"Were you aware that your story caused such a massive fallout? They call you LoVe. Some have posters from magazines, some have collages…how does that make you feel?" It is at times like these Veronica wishes she still drank. Amy Caruso, the bottle blonde reporter sitting primly on the couch before her was smiling as if she knew a secret. Veronica could barely stop her eyes from rolling. My secrets are all padlock protected, honey. You couldn't get in if you tried.
"I wasn't. That was never our intention. While we're certainly flattered, we appreciate our privacy above everything else." It's one of her less colorful answers, what without the obscenities, but it accomplished its goal. Stumped for a moment, the woman's face goes slack and Veronica is granted a momentary reprieve, a moment of utter silence that she hadn't had for the past-twisting her wrist only slightly under the worn brown caftan she's draped over her shoulders, she holds in a sigh, a hour and 45 minutes. With a fucking tape recorder in her face-there was going to be hell to pay when she finally managed to throw out this nosy Amy woman. Hell.
"Your husband has such adoring fans, how do you feel about all the female attention he gets-especially now?" There's a light in her eyes, a hungry all consuming light Veronica would have identified with a few years ago. It's a scary light, and she realizes reason #998 why she doesn't like this woman. This is turning out to be such a long day.
"He loves it." She smiles to herself for a moment before reschooling her features into Bland Mode and looking the Amy square in the eye. "If I can speak frankly," She pauses, raising her eyebrows and waiting for the woman's acquiescence. She isn't disappointed and of course the damn hyper obsessive light is back. She would have never agreed to this if she'd known she'd have a Logan Echolls fanatic on her hands. Or a-what was it they called themselves? LoVe fans? Veronica prefers to pretend they don't exist, because the thought of people actually cutting her face out of magazines and the Internet freaks her out a little bit. Maybe it's just a small cluster. "My husband is very good at what he does, and the outpouring after his latest incident…" She lets her voice trail off for a moment, trying to think of a suitable way to end her sentence and sound sympathetic at the same time. "The response has been just awing." She adds a little Breathless Wonder in her voice and smiles demurely, ducking her head and wrapping the caftan even more tightly around her.
"So you aren't upset." It's a statement rather than a question, and Veronica wants to note that while she isn't Stanford educated, which is how this particular piece starts, she did still go to college, and statements cannot be answered. Or well, they can be, but it isn't standard sentence protocol. Now she doesn't roll her eyes, but coughs slightly, ducking her head before Amy can actually see her. It wouldn't do for her amusement to be shining through. This interview is serious business. She still has to bite on her lip to keep from laughing out loud. If CNN were here, it would be serious business. ABC, the Post, with Fox News, even, she'd show some interest, but Cosmo? She honestly isn't very impressed, even though before this she used to always get a good laugh by reading her horoscope in their reader's section. Guess that'll have to change, obviously.
"I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure what there's to be upset about." She annunciates her words just enough to belie the aristocratic upbringing she didn't have. This woman is seriously getting on her nerves.
"Your husband…" Amy is positively giddy. So this is the bomb. And she's expecting me to what? Be so overcome that I break down and spill all of my secrets while simultaneously becoming her best friend? I don't think so.
"My husband."
"He was seen…he was seen in a compromising position with someone who was obviously not you." Vaguely, Veronica wonders how this is possible-the thought of Logan cheating never even entering her brain.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure I understand what you're talking about." The Breathless Wonder makes another appearance, but this time some Subtle Panic begins to set in on her face, and her eyes widen, just the teensiest bit, as if to say, my husband? No! Are you sure? What should I dooo? And she doesn't even have to utter a word. Sometimes she thinks she deserves that damn Oscar as much as he does.
"On Tuesday, the 27th he was seen leaving the rehabilitation facility with a-" She pauses to thumb through her notes, which Veronica automatically knows as a cop out. She's done it herself a million times. "A slender brunette of intermediate size."
"Oh, but that could have been anyone. I'm not worried." She smiles brightly. Uncomplicated, sunny, open and completely fake. This Amy has seriously got to be new to this racket.
"Ms. Mars, they were seen in a compromising position." Veronica is very glad that the woman isn't looking at her. Her lip is bleeding because she's biting it so hard. If she were a balloon, she would have exploded by now.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Caruso, there is no doubt in my mind that my husband hasn't been unfaithful." This much is true. She would beat him senseless and them kill him if he even thought about it, and he knows it.
"Ms. Mars-"
"Mrs. Echolls." She responds, just to be petulant. She's never really said it out loud before, but she just wanted to contradict her so badly…
"I'm sorry." It's the reporter's turn to look ashamed now. Veronica isn't sure where it's real or an act. She hopes that her disguise wasn't as easy to see through. Obviously not-although when she became intermediate and not small, she couldn't pinpoint.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Caruso, we'll have to continue this another day. If what you say is true…I'll need to speak to my husband right away." She bites her tongue accidentally, so the tears in her eyes are real as she stares back at the reporter.
"I was under the impression that Mr. Echolls-Logan, if I may-" It's at the tip of Veronica's tongue to say No, you may not. But she doesn't. She may not want to talk to the people from Cosmo-or any entertainment related source, but Logan relies on the press, and as Wife she has a job to do. "Was on location in Cambodia."
"Video phone."
"This is a conversation best to be had face to face, isn't it?" Oh no you didn't. Amy is scribbling furiously in her notepad, the light brightly flickering from her tape recorder. If Veronica had had her say, she would have smashed the thing the moment she walked in the door. Needless to say, she hadn't.
"I'm sorry Ms. Caruso, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Please call our publicist if you'd like to set up another appointment. Obviously stunned by the swift change between Hurt Housewife and Powerful Wife, Amy leaves without a word. Veronica lets the door slam loudly behind her.
"Was that really necessary?" She doesn't even bother turning around as Logan saunters into the room, apple in hand.
"She was being annoying."
"Veronica, she's the top entertainment journalist in the country. It wouldn't have killed you to give her something good." She snorts, she can't help it-her husband, the Diva. "You let her think…" His eyes flash, making them deeper and darker than before, and even after three years of marriage, her breath still catches. "You don't think I would ever-"
"You do and I break your legs. Maybe crush the little guys a little."
"Veronica-"
"I know," She giggles back, wrapping her arms around his neck and scooting closer to him on the one couch not facing the window. The less paparazzi can see, the easier her life is. "Never underestimate the size of your cojones. I love how, instead of freaking out at the prospect of being crushed, they're offended that I called them little." She's fighting really hard to keep a straight face.
"They're very sensitive." It's an open invitation, and she doesn't even blink as she snakes her hand down the front of his pants.
"Don't I know it," She mutters under her breath, losing it completely when he leans forward and kisses her, tipping her backwards on the couch.
"I love you," He murmurs when her shirt is a puddle on the floor and he's kissing the white column of her throat. She laughs-she can't help it.
"So sex is funny now?"
"Laughter makes a marriage stronger."
"Because we need strength?"
"Every little bit helps."
"Veronica!"
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. It's just… they call us that."
"Who calls us what?" His eyes are hooded and she can feel the outline of his dick in his pants, and she just wants to go go go and wishes she hadn't laughed in the first place. It was so not worth it, even though he will get a kick out of it, once she manages to speak again.
"They-" She responds, taking a staggering breath and waving her hand in front of her, unintentionally hitting him square in the quest. She giggles when he rolls his eyes at her. "Your fans."
"My fans call us what? Love?"
"Uh huh." He looks at her, his face blank. She rolls her eyes, sitting up slightly, and leaning against the low back of the couch.
"I don't get it."
"Obviously."
"Because we've been together for so long?"
"Because your name is Logan and I'm Veronica." Her answer isn't meant to be suggestive. It isn't even meant to be anything other than what it is, a simple explanation, but his eyes melt into the decadent chocolate category and as he lips settle on hers again, there isn't much room for thought.