DISCLAIMER: Characters of Veronica Mars, any recognizable dialogue, and the canon events of their storyline belong to Rob Thomas.

A/N:

Chapter 1 occurs near the end of Season 1. Chapter 2 takes a look back at #1.10 "An Echolls Family Christmas."


Chapter 2

See, the thing about me is … being a badass is learned behavior, a very carefully cultivated persona.

But the truth that lies beneath the surface – and my primary problem – is that I'm really just a marshmallow.

And that means when I get too close to fire, I go all gooey on the inside.

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Back before Christmas, there was a poker game. For some reason, when they had an empty chair, it never occurred to them to ask me. Amazing that I was able to keep my card shark status under wraps while dating Duncan and being in that social circle. But Lilly knew. She and I used to play heads up poker. She wanted to improve her skills so that when she played strip poker she could control how the game went. She was much better than she ever let anyone else know, but then again, sometimes she wanted to get naked. Easier to pretend to play badly and occasionally have a "lucky" hand. What a hustler she was!

When she and I played, it was cutthroat. We didn't play for money. Sometimes, we'd play for … well, that's a story for another time.

Maybe if they had invited me in the first place, the thief wouldn't have been able to steal the $5,000.

I spent days questioning the guys who had been there. Duncan Kane. Logan Echolls. Conner Larkin. Sean Friedrich. And Weevil. Quite a motley crew.

I probably would have helped solve the mystery anyway, but I must admit that Duncan had me a bit nervous when he told me about the journal he kept on his computer.

When I went to talk to Weevil and asked him to let me handle it, he studied me carefully while we were talking. I realized right then how much I would love to play cards with him. I had gotten the info I came for and was about to go when he nodded to the other guys, indicating that they should leave the room.

After I sat down next to him, he leaned toward me. "Why do you care so much? I don't think you're concerned about me getting my money. Trying to figure you out. You cut that boy down from the flagpole. Waved your magic wand to give us a good reason to leave him alone. Why did you care about him? I know you wouldn't just help us – help me – if there weren't another reason. What do you get out of this? I don't figure you get paid for most of these jobs that are more like favors. So why are you poking your nose into this poker game? Who's the favor for this time? One of the 09ers? Trying to get back in their good graces so they'll let you sit at their lunch table again?"

I had held his gaze throughout his monologue, trying to decide how honest to be. "After the way my former friends have treated me, I'm more likely to do favors for anyone but them. What can I say? I like an underdog. New kid vs. PCHers – I side with the new kid. PCHer vs. 09ers – well … that's a no brainer."

"In what world do you imagine that I'm the underdog … in need your help? Top of the food chain, baby." He pointed to himself. "Tell me the real reason you care so much."

"Well, I'm all about fair play. If you win, you should get the prize money."

"Not buyin' it. Try again."

"That's the truth."

"But not the whole truth. Is it, V?"

I was becoming more and more uneasy. Could I trust him enough to ask him to keep Duncan's laptop under lock and key? Trust him to not look at it himself?

As he watched me, I watched him. His expression changed. I gave him a nervous smile and just like that, I was transported back to the Sheriff's Department when we were kids. When I looked into his eyes now, I saw the same kindness I had seen then.

"I'm not done with that topic, but I got another question for you." He waited to see if I would respond. When I didn't, he charged ahead. "What the hell happened? I mean, I know that your best friend was murdered and your dad lost his job and your mom ran off. But why did your friends turn on you? You know, other than the obvious – they're assholes."

"That pretty much covers it."

"And then, you get a makeover," he gestured to my appearance, "and a new personality."

Something in his eyes made me feel safe and defensive at the same time. I felt like any moment he could either offer me comfort for all that I had been through or turn on a dime and start recounting the various rumors that circulated about my reputation. Is that what he meant by "new personality" or did he mean the attitude I had adopted, my defense mechanism?

"Short version: I thought they were my friends, but I was wrong. Circumstances sometimes help people develop character, but it will always reveal character. All the stuff that happened showed me who they really are."

"Then, why are you trying to get their stuff back for them?"

I looked at him again trying to assess how much I could trust him. I looked around to be sure we were indeed alone and that the door was closed. "Cards on the table? You and I have something in common. Trust does not come easy for us. That wall we put up is a protective measure. It's necessary for survival – especially in Neptune." I paused, continuing to assess. "The way I see it, you and I have stumbled into a mutually beneficial arrangement. We could continue with it purely as a favor exchange or …"

"Or what?"

"One of us could go out on a limb and decide to trust the other."

"I trust my boys and I trust my family – well, most of my family. But not many other names on that list."

"Well, then I guess I'll make the first move." I could not help but laugh when he raised an eyebrow at that. "Not that kind of move, vato. Look, I know under all the tattoos, leather, and male bravado, there's a heart. I've seen it with your grandma. I've seen it … well, I just have. So I'd like to ask that while I'm working on getting your money back, would you please …"

"I like it when a girl says please." He looked like a panther ready to pounce, but I could see a hint of a smile.

"I'm trying to be serious here. Please make sure that Duncan's laptop …"

He tilted his head and studied me carefully, trying to read on my face what I was not saying aloud. "What does he have on you?" His voice was concerned, protective.

Although whatever Duncan might have written in his journal could be embarrassing, it's not like he had naked pictures of me or anything. But for the moment, I decided to let Weevil make assumptions if it would ensure that the contents of the laptop stayed confidential.

"Ex-boyfriend. Bad breakup. I'd rather whatever he has on there not become public knowledge."

"Really think you can get my money back?"

"I do. It's gotta be one of the four. I like my odds."

He stood and began walking toward the door. "You comin'?"

I wasn't sure why he wanted me to follow him, but I was curious. He led me to the shop. He asked me to wait near the door. I heard noises, but was not sure what I was hearing. Then, a metal door slammed. A locker, maybe? A minute later, he was standing in front of me with a folded brown paper grocery bag.

He glanced around before saying, "I've got one condition."

I didn't know what he was asking me to agree to. But in that moment, I knew that I could trust him.

"You hold onto this until I get my money."

"What?" I asked as he handed me the bag. I felt the weight of it – heavier than I expected a folded bag to be. I opened it and saw a laptop inside. I looked up at him, stunned and speechless.

"I'm gonna choose to trust you on this. Don't make me regret it." He tried to lace his words with warning, but his eyes were soft.

"Thank you." My world had turned upside down. I no longer trusted my old friends, but I trusted a gang leader. And he had just shown that he trusted me.

I didn't plan it, it just happened. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. And I'm pretty sure he blushed. But I didn't get a good look, he turned quickly, walking away.

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It should come as no surprise that I solved the mystery. When Weevil and Sean left to have a little chat, I dealt the first hand. I guess I could have played it coy – you know, like Lilly would have. However, I decided that although I would continue to wear a mask most of the time – my carefully cultivated air of mystery – I would openly own my status as a badass poker player. Hell, I didn't even cheat – well, not exactly. I mean, no second dealing … no dealing from the bottom … nothing like that. But they were so easy to read – all of them open books. Not difficult at all: "See Dick and Jane play cards. See Dick try to bluff. See Dick bet on a lousy hand. See Jane take his money." Almost felt bad separating these rich fools from their money. Almost.

Weevil returned to the game with his signature smirk and swagger. Well, until I started to kick his ass and take his money. I think at one point, I may have caught a glimpse of respect and amusement in his eyes as he watched me play with these guys.

When we took a break to get food at the Christmas party Logan's parents were having, Weevil stayed close to me, making conversation. I had to apologize to him at one point. I got distracted when I saw Jake Kane and missed something that Weevil was trying to tell me. He held my plate when I left the room to talk to Jake. Not long after that, chaos ensued – Aaron got stabbed, his stalker was arrested, party guests gave witness statements. But what Lynn would want you to remember is that there were carolers in Dickensian costume.

Those of us who had been playing cards went back to the pool house to settle up. Conner and Duncan had suggested to Logan that we not finish the game. I was not surprised when he agreed, but I was surprised when they handed me the full $5,000. Then, Logan added (and the others nodded) that he never wanted to see me at their poker game again.

As I was walking to my car, Weevil caught up to me. "They really didn't know that you were a card shark?"

"Nope. I'm pretty good at throwing a pool game, too." I winked at him.

He laughed, saying, "My kinda girl. We should hang out more often." He became noticeably uncomfortable when that slipped out. After shifting his weight, he looked away as he changed the subject. "Uh, thanks for figuring out who stole my winnings. Nice time of year to have some extra cash."

Nodding my agreement, I got my keys out.

"Mind if I ask whether you're gonna delete the stuff on Duncan's laptop before you return it?"

"Now that you mention it, that's not a bad idea," I said in a breathy voice. Even though it may have been overkill, I added a head tilt.

I was about to get into my LeBaron when he asked another question. "What was that with Jake Kane earlier?" When I didn't answer him, he pressed further. "You were distracted before you left the room and you seemed upset when you came back."

I went into evasion mode – avoided answering, avoided eye contact. But Weevil is no dummy.

He simply nodded. "I'm gonna give you a pass for now. But V … you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me. And don't be surprised if I ask again sometime."

As I drove home, I was still trying to figure out this puzzle of a man. And I asked myself if I could trust Weevil with the things I was unearthing while investigating Lilly's murder.

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Trust. It can be built, created, established, cultivated.

It can also be lost, destroyed, allowed to disintegrate.

It's enough to boggle the mind. Strong and fragile at the same time.

Trust. A puzzlement.

That night … that night when he showed up at the club … when we found ourselves in that bathroom stall …

That whole night was one very long trust exercise.


A/N:

Thanks for reading! Until next time ...

~Jen

30 June 2016