Part II - Chapter 4
There had been times when Veronica had railed against the prevalence of plea bargains in the criminal justice system, that vengeful part of her always wanting to extract the maximum amount of retribution for any crime. But that Friday morning, after a nearly sleepless night, Veronica felt ragged.
So when she arrived at the courthouse for what she had thought would be the last day of trial and was told that the defendant, Mr. Patterson, was willing to plead to voluntary manslaughter, Veronica rejoiced. She hadn't been certain of winning this one; the evidence had been highly circumstantial. But apparently Mr. Patterson had decided not to take his chances with the jury.
Veronica was so tired that she would have fallen asleep during Patterson's allocution if one of her colleagues hadn't jabbed her with his elbow. A lot of paperwork followed, and then finally it was over.
It was nearly noon by then, but for once Veronica wasn't hungry. In fact, her stomach churned as she thought about that evening's dinner with Matthew. And Logan. She needed some rest. She needed a nap. She needed to go into hiding.
Veronica sighed. She knew that last wasn't going to happen, but it was possible she could manage to get Len to let her take the rest of the day off so she could get some much-needed sleep. As it turned out, her boss wasn't hard to convince, especially when he saw how worn-out she looked.
"Great job, Mars," he said. "I wasn't sure we had enough evidence for a conviction, but I guess you scared Mr. Patterson so much he was afraid to take his chances with the jury."
He winked at her, but this was definitely a case of the truth spoken in jest. Len had seen Mars in action in the courtroom, and he was consistently amazed that someone who was so small in stature and who looked like she should be on the red carpet instead of in a courtroom, could be so damned intimidating. She was always sure of her facts, she never backed off, never got ruffled, and saw right through obfuscation and evasion.
In short, Len Rosetti had no doubt that Veronica Mars was a born prosecutor, and he was damned glad she'd picked Marin County to take up the charge.
But today, she definitely looked a little the worse for wear.
"So am I gonna have to call Garcia and tell him to ease back on the late nights? You look like crap, Mars." He smirked at her as she sat with her head in her hands.
"Well gee, thanks, Dad, that's just what a girl wants to hear." Veronica gave her boss a quick smile. "You can't lay this on Matthew, Len. I just didn't sleep well last night."
Rosetti's right brow quirked up in surprise. "You, Mars? I thought you always had your life under control?"
For just an instant, an expression crossed Veronica's face that Len Rosetti had never seen there before. A little sad, a little afraid...and then it was gone, and she smirked back at him.
"A girl, and by that I mean a very successful prosecutor girl, could use a little time off," she said, her head tilted just so.
Rosetti had seen that head thing before and knew when he was beaten.
"Pack it in, Mars," he gave in gracefully. "We'll see you on Monday."
She grinned at him, batted her lashes, and said fawningly, "You're just the best boss ever."
Len sighed. "Yeah, right. I always am when you get what you want."
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Matthew Garcia had also endured a night in which sleep had been elusive. He had pills in the medicine cabinet for these rare episodes of insomnia, but Matthew hated to take them. He would swallow one only when it was absolute necessary, when business demands required that he be alert the following day, when he couldn't afford to give himself time off. But last night had not been such a night.
At 4AM, after several hours of frustrated tossing and turning, Matthew had left a message on his secretary's phone asking her to cancel that day's appointments, then managed to drop off just as the sky was lightening. After four hours of uneasy sleep, he finally dragged himself out of bed, only to find that he had a new problem, and she was sitting at his kitchen island, drinking coffee and eating cold cereal.
"Daddy! Finally! This must be the first time in the history of the universe that I got out of bed before you did. Are you sick or something?" She looked at him speculatively. "Unless of course you couldn't stand to leave your bed because that blonde you've been shagging is still in it."
Eyebrows raised, she smirked at him, waiting for the embarrassed anger she was sure she'd provoked.
But for once, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison had read her father wrong. He was too busy trying to come to grips with fact that his difficult daughter had put in an appearance to worry about one of her signature outrageous remarks.
"Evie," he said, "what are you doing here?" Dammit! He did not need any other complications right now. Madeleine had promised him she'd keep their daughter out of the way at least until after the primaries.
"Duh, I live here?" Evie continued spooning the contents of the cereal bowl into her mouth. "And listen, can we get some Fruit Loops or something? This granola shit seriously sucks."
Matthew sighed. "Evie, can you try not to be quite so vulgar?" He reached for a K-pack to brew himself a cup of coffee, and felt the first stirrings of pain behind his eyelids.
Evie quirked one eyebrow as she finished the last spoonful of cereal. She got up from the stool and dropped her bowl and spoon into the sink with a clatter.
"So nobody can say 'shit' in this house now that you're running for office?" She turned from the sink and gave him a sly grin. "Or was it the 'shagging' comment that you objected to?"
Things never changed, he thought, quickly losing patience with his daughter. "I sent you to London to absorb a little culture, maybe acquire a cosmopolitan patina, but the only thing you seem to have learned is the British slang for..." He stopped suddenly.
Evie's eyes glinted and her mouth quirked as she leaned against the sink, arms crossed in front of her. "For what, Daddy? British slang for what?" she asked, challenging him to finish his sentence.
Matthew ran his hands across his face. He was tense, exhausted, and now he had to deal with his recalcitrant daughter. He took a quick sip of his coffee, hoping the jolt of caffeine would calm his nerves.
"Is there a particular reason why you came home just now, Evie?" he asked. "I thought your mother told me you wouldn't be back until late summer."
"Well, I got bored, okay? Can't I just come home if I want?" Her chin rose in defiance and she banged her coffee mug onto the counter. "Maybe I want to meet this...woman...you're planning to marry."
"You have met her. When you were here for the holidays."
"Yeah, but she was just one of your women then, not my new 'mommy-to-be'. Or did you plan on keeping us apart until you got her down the aisle?" Her mouth twisted in hurt. "Don't want to scare her off by subjecting her to the 'wayward daughter'."
"Of course not..." he began.
"Well, where is she then?" Evie demanded. "Is she still in your bed?"
"Evie!" Matthew snapped, finally provoked to his limit. "That's enough! You know very well that Veronica has her own apartment. But right now, she's probably in court."
"Well, when will I get to see her, then? Don't you want to give us a chance to bond?" She was equal parts petulant and mocking.
"Tonight," he finally conceded. "She's coming for dinner tonight." Too late, he remembered who else was coming to dinner. "With an old...friend," he added as though it were an afterthought.
"Oh, goody," Evie said, rolling her eyes, as she flounced out of the room. "Two of them. I can hardly wait."
With a sigh, Matthew picked up his mug from the counter. "I, too, can hardly wait," he muttered, sipping his coffee.
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"You could at least have given me some warning, Madeleine." He could hear the frustration in his own voice as he spoke to his ex-wife. He was sitting in the reading chair in his bedroom, the only room in the condo in which he could be certain he wouldn't be interrupted by Evie.
"This is really not a good time for a visit," he said directly. "I have neither the time nor the patience to rein in every one of her outrageous impulses."
He paused, sighing, listening to her litany of excuses.
"How unsuitable was he?" he asked. Matthew wondered how it was that his daughter inevitably attached herself to the least acceptable man in any room...and in any town. "You're supposed to be keeping an eye on her, not running around Europe with your boyfriends..." He wondered why he even bothered.
His phone beeped to alert him that he had another call, and he checked out the caller ID.
"Look, Madeleine, I have another call coming in, but this conversation is not over." He sighed. "I'll get back to you early next week."
Matthew switched to the new caller.
"So what did you find out about Logan Echolls?"
When Matthew hung up the phone several minutes later he leaned back in his chair and tried to piece it all together, tried to make sense of it. Because it was nothing like what he'd expected.
He'd expected to find that Echolls was an old friend, or even an old boyfriend. He hadn't expected to find that at one time Veronica had been near the very center of a maelstrom of scandal and controversy.
He supposed he should have remembered the name Echolls. It was an uncommon name, and Aaron Echolls had not only been a famous movie star, he had also been accused of murdering his son's girlfriend. The same son that Matthew was expecting for dinner that evening.
Matthew remembered the case now. Aaron Echolls had been acquitted, but later he'd either been murdered himself or committed suicide. The authorities had never been able to agree one way or the other. The mother was dead, too, a presumed suicide, because her body had never been found.
And then there was the money. He'd inherited from both parents and had been orphaned and a multi-millionaire by the time he was eighteen. And with the money, and that upbringing, and all the scandal, Logan Echolls should have been the most fucked-up culo in Southern California. But somehow he wasn't.
Sometime after college he'd started that business, LEA, and every fucking thing the guy invested in had turned into a goldmine. It just proved what Matthew had known his whole life: the rich just kept on getting richer, and everybody else stood in line for the scraps.
Matthew had known that Veronica was from Neptune, but he knew she'd had a middle-class upbringing. So he would never have imagined that she'd mingled with a software heiress or the son of movie stars, that the murdered girl, Lilly Kane, had been her best friend, or that she'd dated someone like Echolls in high school, and then again when they'd both been at Hearst. Matthew wondered why she'd never told him about it.
Surprisingly, beyond the barest of information, his investigator was unable to find out much about Echolls's current personal life. But he'd found any number of people who would talk about his business ventures, about LEA, usually to sing the guy's praises. Matthew had smiled cynically when he'd heard that. He knew from long experience that there were unpleasant skeletons in everyone's closet. And if he found he needed to put more effort into this investigation, he had no doubt he could find the ones that lurked in the back of Logan Echolls's wardrobe.
Matthew pondered how all this might relate to Veronica's life today, but he could see no connection at all.
He didn't give a damn if she'd been at the periphery of a notorious murder case a decade ago. She'd had no culpability, and it had left no taint on her. It didn't affect who she was now, the woman who had graduated near the top of her class at Stanford and who, according to Maggie Rosetti, was a rising star in the District Attorney's Office.
Neither did he give a damn if the son of two movie stars had been an old flame. Echolls still lived in Neptune and Matthew knew that Veronica hadn't been back there in years, so any attachment between them, any adolescent infatuation, would have been over and done with long before he himself met Veronica.
No, Veronica was still suitable, which was a relief because he needed this to work out with her. Matthew doubted that he would be able to find another woman on the planet who met his requirements so perfectly.
So there remained only one minor irritation with tonight's dinner party, one small prick to his pride. Matthew was used to being able to impress his guests with his condo on Nob Hill, with its full-time concierge, and it's panoramic view of the city. But he knew that nothing he had, nothing he owned, was ever going to impress Logan Echolls.
He could live with that, he decided, because after tonight, he didn't expect to have to see Mr. Echolls again. He would come to dinner, say whatever it was he needed to say to his old friend Veronica, and then disappear from their lives forever.
Matthew Garcia picked up his glass of very old, very expensive, single malt whiskey, and toasted Logan Echolls's imminent departure from his life.
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Veronica had managed a couple of hours sleep that afternoon, and she'd woken up with a renewed purpose: to protect the life that she'd so carefully constructed. She had a job that she loved, she had a few friends that she enjoyed, and she had Matthew. A man she could be with who would ask nothing more of her than she was willing to give.
Matthew demanded fidelity, but not undying love. He wanted a physical relationship, but could live happily without real intimacy. He required her presence when the occasion demanded it, but he didn't want to own her soul. Veronica knew that she could meet those expectations and still retain a part of herself that was hers alone. A safe place, where no one could hurt her.
So she'd awoken with every intention of getting Logan Echolls out of her head once and for all. She couldn't afford any more sleepless nights.
She decided to get to Matthew's early so that she could explain about Logan. Not everything, of course. At one time, she'd envisioned telling Matthew that she'd been married briefly. But she had never intended to provide details, not even about who it was she'd been married to. Most especially about who I was married to.
Now that he'd met Logan and there was every chance he might connect the dots, she'd changed her mind. She was determined to retain at least that much privacy and besides, the marriage had been so brief. And of course there would never be a need to mention...
Veronica inner voice stopped at the same place that it always did. The words wouldn't come, even inside her head, so there was no chance she'd be telling Matthew anything he didn't need to know.
She shook her head. After all, she wasn't planning to keep him completely in the dark. She could certainly explain about Lilly. About Aaron Echolls. Everything that had happened a decade ago was part of the public record anyway, so with Matthew running for office, it would be best if he knew before some zealous reporter dug it all up.
Determination in every step, Veronica was feeling refreshingly open and honest by the time she got out of the cab at Matthew's building that evening. She waved to the concierge, rode the elevator up to the penthouse condominium, and used her own key to open the door. Only to have the wind taken out of her sails by the sultry brunette lying on the couch in the living room.
"So I guess I'm not surprised that Daddy gave you a key," Evie said by way of greeting, a sly grin in place. "It must make booty calls a whole lot more convenient. I mean, you certainly couldn't expect him to take himself off to whatever hole in the wall you call home."
Veronica's lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. "Nice to see you, Evie," she said as pleasantly as she could manage, sitting down on a nearby chair.
Matthew appeared, carrying a bottle of wine and some glasses, and Evie's expression challenged Veronica to rat her out to her father, to repeat to him what Evie had said to her. But Veronica was ever adept at playing the long game.
"Oh, I see I don't need to reintroduce the two of you," Matthew announced to the room at large, the relief in his voice palpable.
"No need at all, "Veronica said pleasantly as he kissed her cheek. "Evie is not someone I'm likely to forget. I have a pretty good memory for faces...and for conversation."
"Attributes that are no doubt useful to a prosecutor," he said, opening the bottle and pouring a small amount of wine into one of the glasses, swirling it around the bottom.
Evie eyed Veronica closely. She remembered the doll-like appearance, but she certainly didn't remember the sharp claws or the pointed remarks.
"Where are you going, Evie?" her father asked in surprise, as she slid off the couch and turned toward the hallway. "I thought you would want to have a glass of wine with us."
"Gotta change, Dad," she said, waving a hand at him as she disappeared from the room.
When Matthew turned back toward Veronica, he could scarcely ignore the raised brows and the quirked mouth. He sat on the couch his daughter had just vacated and sighed in frustration.
"She was supposed to stay with her mother in London for at least a couple of more months, but she was sitting in the kitchen when I got up this morning." He explained, his expression conveying that it had not been a pleasant surprise. "I spoke with Madeleine, and apparently Evie became...involved with a very unsuitable man. Madeleine thought the best solution would be to send her to me."
He continued, annoyed. "Of course it never occurred to Madeleine to ask if it was convenient, or at least let me know..."
"Matthew," Veronica finally broke in. "I don't care that Evie's here. This is her home, after all. I just wonder why you didn't give me some warning."
Matthew was somewhat taken aback. People rarely criticized his actions. Or inactions. Not even Veronica, although he'd known for a long time that she was extremely direct, and unlikely to hold back if she felt strongly about something.
He was displeased by her attitude, but neither did he want to provoke her. And perhaps she was at least partially right.
"I'm...sorry, Veronica. I didn't sleep well and I've had a busy day. But I should have made it a point to let you know." He wondered when the last time was that he'd actually apologized to someone.
"Okay," she said, prepared to be conciliatory, since she had her own agenda and wanted to get it out before Evie returned to the room.
"Matthew," she began, "you, uh, may have wondered how it is that Logan Echolls and I know each other." She looked down at her hands, took a breath, looked up, smiled slightly. "The fact is that he's...an old boyfriend. I haven't seen him since...we graduated from Hearst. We, uh, went to high school together, too." It was close enough to the truth to serve, she decided.
Veronica studied Matthew, trying to determine how he was reacting to this information, but his face told her nothing.
"Something...horrible happened when we were in high school." Veronica paused, folded her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "A...murder. Logan's...father was Aaron Echolls, the movie star. He...he killed my best friend, Lilly Kane. Lilly...at the time, Lilly was Logan's girlfriend. It was a terrible ordeal for all of us."
Veronica paused now that she'd gotten the worst out. "Logan and I didn't start dating until long after that. We dated off and on toward the end of high school and at Hearst, but nothing...nothing ever came of it."
She stopped and looked at Matthew for a reaction. He nodded.
"I'm a little surprised to hear you say that the movie star killed your friend," he said. "Wasn't he acquitted of that murder?"
Veronica's eyes narrowed suddenly, and her mouth hardened. "I could have sworn that last night you had no idea who Logan Echolls was," she said carefully, "much less who his father was. Or anything at all about his murder trial."
"You're right," he said, "I didn't. But I like knowing who's coming into my house."
"So you had him...Logan...investigated?" Her voice rose and her manner was decidedly frosty.
"I wouldn't say 'investigated'. I had him...looked into," Matthew equivocated.
"Is there a difference? You might have just asked me, Matthew."
"And would you have told me?"
"I just did, didn't I?" Veronica's tone was curt.
"But I don't think you've told me everything."
Veronica paled suddenly. "What...what do you mean?" Her eyes looked wary.
"You didn't mention that the father was subsequently murdered or that the mother had committed suicide," Matthew said, and for a second he could have sworn that she looked...relieved.
"No, I never got that far, and besides those things had nothing to do with me."
"And the murder case...the arrest of Aaron Echolls...that did have something to do with you?"
"Yes, it did," she said, her chin coming up stubbornly. "I'm the one who figured out who killed Lilly. And I don't care what the verdict was, Aaron was guilty."
Matthew just stared at her. She figured it out? But she couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 at the time.
Evie returned to the room just then, and the discussion was necessarily suspended. Matthew took a good look at his daughter and groaned inwardly. Whereas before he'd thought her attire of jeans and t-shirt a little too casual for dinner, this new outfit was daring in the extreme. Matthew knew it was supposed to be a dress, but it hardly seemed to cover enough of the lower part of her body to warrant that description.
Short, tight, low-cut. He sighed, knowing he probably wouldn't be happy when he saw the charge on his Amex bill, either.
"Is this what you wear for a family dinner, Evie?" he demanded. "How is this...dress...appropriate?"
"Really, Daddy?" she said with a smirk. "It's Friday night. Did you think I was going to hang here all night? Melissa's picking me up later. We're going to a club."
The doorbell rang just then, and before anyone else could move, Evie said, "I'll get the door. That must be your friend, Veronica. Maybe she'll like my dress."
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When Logan alighted from his taxi and entered Garcia's building carrying a bottle of what had always been Veronica's favorite Cabernet, it was clear that the concierge had been told to expect him. He was shown to the correct elevator and the proper button was pressed for him. Top floor, Logan noted, the penthouse condo. Obviously Attorney Garcia would settle for nothing less than the best.
Logan smiled wryly at the thought and shook his head at himself. The man was, after all, engaged to Veronica.
When the elevator reached the top, he saw that there was only one door on that floor. He'd barely pressed the bell when the door was opened by an attractive girl whose brunette waves cascaded past her shoulders and whose dress was so short that he wondered how she would be able to sit down without revealing territory that was better left uncharted.
"Weeeeell," she said when she saw him standing there, her grin showing a beautiful set of what were probably very expensively-straightened teeth. "And who might you be?"
Her smile widened when she saw his answering grin.
"I was just going to ask you the same question," he said. "It's possible that I'm at the wrong condo."
But then the door opened wider and Garcia appeared, an expression of annoyance on his face.
"Mr. Echolls," he said somewhat reluctantly, "I'd like to present my daughter, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison."
"Oh, Daddy," she said, rolling her eyes and holding out her hand to Logan. "Hi, I'm Evie Garcia. And you are...?"
"Logan Echolls," he said, shaking her hand.
"Here, Daddy," she said, relieving Logan of the bottle of wine and handing it to her astonished father. Then she looped her arm through Logan's and pulled him into the room.
"So...you're Veronica's old friend?" she asked, quirking a brow as if not quite believing it.
"I am," responded Logan. "Is she...?" But before he could finish his question, he saw Veronica standing just a few feet away in black slacks and an off-the-shoulder red sweater, an outfit that was far sexier, he thought, than the revealing one on the girl standing beside him. His breath caught as he recognized once again how beautiful Veronica had become.
Veronica flushed at his expression, and Evie eyed them quizzically, but Garcia appeared not to notice anything amiss.
"Hello, Veronica," Logan said, his mind still reeling from the fact that he'd now had occasion to use that phrase twice in the past two days.
"Hello, Logan," she responded tentatively, as though she, too, were having trouble accepting that they were really in each other's presence again after so many years apart.
"Ah, now that you're here, I think we should eat immediately," Garcia announced suddenly. "The caterer left everything in the oven, so we just need to remove it and serve."
He smiled suddenly, playing the gracious host, and Logan realized it was the first time he'd seen Garcia smile since they'd met. He wondered fleetingly if his own presence had somehow soured Garcia's mood, or if the man was just naturally dour.
The condo was designed in the very modern open concept style, and had no separate dining room, but a small round table had been laid for four near the end of the room that was closest to the kitchen. Logan shot an amused glance at Veronica as Evie pulled him toward the dining table.
"Here," she said, "sit next to me." Evie favored him with another huge smile that he was sure she had employed often to get exactly what she wanted.
Garcia moved to the chair on Logan's left, leaving the seat across from him empty for Veronica. Logan wasn't sure which was going to be the greater torture: the fact that she was too far away to 'accidentally' touch, or that he'd have to look at her directly for the entire time they'd be dining.
Garcia eyed his daughter and said, "I could use your help with the serving, Evie."
"What are we having, Daddy?" Evie asked, rising. "It smells really good."
Garcia smiled, certain that he'd made the right choices for his impromptu dinner party. "Veronica never turns down Italian, so I thought we'd have a couple of her favorites."
Father and daughter moved into the kitchen area to retrieve their dinner, and Garcia called back confidently, "We're having lasagna, and for dessert, tiramisu."
Veronica gave her head a little shake and looked down at her plate, wondering what cruel god of irony had prompted Matthew to choose that particular menu. But then her head came up and she found herself searching Logan's face because it suddenly became important to know if she was the only one who remembered.
When he smiled at her softly, she could see that they were both reliving the same memory, and she couldn't help returning his smile.
When Veronica's eyes dropped to her left hand, Logan was certain that she was seeing not the enormous glittering rock that sat there today, but the flat platinum band with the tiny diamond chips that she'd twisted and turned around her finger all the way through their simple wedding dinner.
"Veronica," Logan said, his voice barely a whisper, and without thinking he stretched his hand across the table toward her. But before he could touch her, Veronica jumped up and excused herself, practically running towards the bathroom.
Evie brought in the the food and began to serve it while Garcia uncorked the Cabernet and poured it into their glasses. When she returned a few moments later, Veronica had regained her composure and she smiled at her fiancé and studiously avoided Logan's gaze.
"It looks delicious," she said.
"So, what do you do, Logan?" Evie asked him, demanding his attention, just as he was shoveling a forkful of pasta and cheese into his mouth. "Or do you do nothing at all but sit around looking hot?" She practically purred at him.
"Evie!" Her father nearly choked on his wine. "Behave yourself."
"Oh, Daddy, I'm sure it isn't anything Logan hasn't heard a million times before," she said, with a wink and a shrug in Logan's direction. And while the others were occupied with her brazen question, under cover of the tablecloth Evie was busy stroking up and down the calf of Logan's right leg with the edge of her very expensive designer shoes. For the moment, Logan gave up any pretense of eating.
She was right. He had heard it before, all of it. He'd had women throwing themselves at him since he was in his early teens. He'd never been sure if it was his famous name, the millions in his bank account, or just his personal appeal that drew women to him, but it had become something he'd gotten used to dealing with.
But these days, most of the women who came onto him were a little older than Evie, and none tried to hit on him with their fathers sitting three feet away. So despite his years of practice in fending off advances, while Logan was amused, he was also just a little bit embarrassed. His brows quirked and he shot a smile over to Veronica, sure that she'd be amused, too. But there he found he was completely wrong.
Veronica looked nothing like amused. Veronica looked pissed. Veronica looked...jealous?
Logan's heart began beating faster when he realized that jealous was exactly how she looked.
Garcia failed to notice Veronica's expression as he poured the last of the wine that Logan had brought into her glass. "I'm sure I've got some more Cabernet in the other room. Will you excuse me?" he said, rising to fetch another bottle from the supply he kept on racks in his home office.
Evie took advantage of her father's temporary absence to return her attention to Logan.
"So," she said with a smirk, her hand reaching out to stroke his arm. "I'll bet you do something really exciting for a living?"
Logan laughed. "I hate to disappoint you, Evie, but I actually own a business."
"I'll never believe it!" she teased. "Businessmen are fat and pompous and can't possibly be any fun."
"Well," he said, "not every part of my business is boring and stuffy. Have you ever tried surfing? My company owns the most rad surf shop in Southern California."
"Duuuude!" she laughed, drawing out the word. "You surf?"
"Since I was a kid," he assured her with a smile.
"Logan," Veronica broke in suddenly. "I was surprised to hear that Dick was actually running the surf shop and not spending all his time surfing and chasing t...uh...women."
"He's surprisingly good at it, Veronica. He has a way with people." He gave a little laugh at her look of disbelief, and conceded. "Well, with most people. Even Dick had to grow up sometime."
"Funny he didn't say anything to me about it," Veronica muttered, her brow wrinkling slightly, then she looked up quickly as if realizing what she might have revealed.
Too late. Logan had heard her and was looking at her quizzically. "Say anything to you...when? When did you see Dick?"
"I...ran into Dick not far from the courthouse last year. He said you'd sent him here because you were too busy to come yourself."
"Too...busy?"
"Yeah," she said, picking up her glass of wine. "Dick said you were busy with LEA. That it was your 4-year anniversary." She set her glass down and tried to avoid his eye.
Logan's head was spinning as he finally made sense of her remarks to him the previous evening. She had run into Dick last year, and from whatever Dick had said, she'd thought that LEA was Leah, and that Logan had had a 4-year relationship with a woman, which would have had to begin...
As Logan did the math, his stunned eyes held hers. "So," he said carefully, "you heard about the 4-year anniversary of LEA and thought..."
He could see the mottling on Veronica's face as she finally caught his eye and flushed with embarrassment. Logan's mind reeled at the implications of this revelation. Was this before she'd met Garcia? Did it have anything at all to do with...?
Garcia returned then with another bottle of wine, but Logan was thinking so furiously that he barely heard him. He forced himself to focus; he could sort out everything else later.
"So your company seems to deal with a lot of very diverse products," Garcia said politely.
Veronica added with a smile, grateful for the change of topic, "I kind of wondered where you got the idea for the helmets. You've never really been a football fan."
Logan quirked a brow at her. "Now that's the one adventure I thought you might have heard about," he said.
When Veronica just looked at him blankly, he said, "Wallace never told you?"
Veronica was startled. "What does it have to do with Wallace?"
"Wallace was the one who brought me the project." He grinned suddenly, knowing what her reaction would be to his next disclosure. "Wallace and...Weevil."
"Weevil!?" Veronica expression was everything he could have hoped for, and Logan laughed softly.
"What the hell kind of name is Weevil?" Evie asked, injecting herself into the conversation.
"Evie, language!" Her father closed his eyes, sighing.
Veronica answered her question. "It's a...nickname. His real name is Eli." She turned to Logan. "You've been in touch with...Weevil?"
"Weevil's cousin got hurt playing football and Wallace's friend had designed a new helmet. They came to me with the idea and...I ran with it."
Logan looked at her oddly. "You do still see Wallace, right? You're in touch?"
"Yes, of course," she said, "but we never talk about...Neptune."
Why do I think that what you're really saying is that you never talk about Logan?
"Well," he said aloud. "Weevil and Wallace each own 5% of that part of the business. Kind of a 'finder's fee'. I thought Wallace might have mentioned it because I'm pretty sure he's planning to buy a house with his profits."
"You...keep up with Wallace?" she asked faintly.
"Veronica," he said quietly, "we're all friends. Wallace and Weevil and I. We have poker nights and barbecues. I went to Weevil's wedding last year."
Veronica looked stricken, and Logan felt as though he'd taken something away from her. But he knew that the only thing he'd really done was to force her to alter her perceptions about people - and relationships - that she'd thought were immutable. Wallace and Weevil? Wallace and Logan? Weevil and Logan? He could see it all dancing around in her head just by the expression on her face. But he couldn't help her.
The doorbell rang suddenly and Evie jumped up. "That must be Melissa," she said.
"Where is it that you're going, Evie?" her father asked.
"Really, Daddy," she tried first, and then, reading his expression, "dance club with Melissa," she threw over her shoulder on her way to let her girlfriend in.
"Don't worry," she added when she saw his expression, "I'll get an under 21 wristband at the club door."
Evie slung a small purse over her shoulder and was almost out the door when she ran back with a request for Logan that was accompanied by her brightest smile.
"It was so great meeting you, Logan," she gushed. "Uh, do you have a card or something, just in case I run into a, uh, business opportunity you might be interested in."
Logan smiled at her and quirked an eyebrow. "A business opportunity, huh?" he said, fishing a card out of his wallet and handing it to her.
"Thanks," she said, putting the card away in her purse. Then she was swooping in to kiss his cheek before running out the door with her friend.
Logan laughed and shook his head, Matthew Garcia closed his eyes in embarrassment, and Veronica Mars looked like she'd swallowed a goldfish.
"Why don't we have coffee and dessert in the living room and Logan can tell us whatever it is he came here to say," Matthew suggested almost as soon as the door had closed behind his daughter.
He rose quickly, clearly expecting the other two to follow him to the seating area across the room.
With a quick glance at Veronica, Logan rose also. "I think perhaps I'll decline on both counts," he said. "Dinner was great," he added politely, "but I'm watching my waistline." His trademark sardonic smile was in full evidence.
Veronica was still seated, and Logan pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "Why don't you just key in your number, and I'll call you tomorrow?" he said. Veronica took the phone and silently entered the digits, then called herself so she'd have his number, too.
But Matthew Garcia was not used to being ignored. "What the hell is going on, Echolls?" he asked, his displeasure evident in his tone. "You came here to discuss something with Veronica, and now you're leaving without speaking about it?"
"No," Logan responded, and the genial tone he'd used all evening had all but disappeared. "That's why you invited me here. My reasons for coming were entirely my own. And any conversation I have with Veronica will be in private unless she says otherwise," he added, glancing at Veronica, who handed his phone back to him wordlessly.
"That is completely unacceptable," Garcia fumed. "I've been more than reasonable about this, but I simply won't have another man..."
Veronica got up so fast that her chair nearly tipped over behind her. "You won't have another man what, Matthew? Talking to me? Is that what you were about to say? That I can't have a conversation with an old friend without asking your permission? What comes next? Will you employ a duenna to watch my every move?"
Logan stood there for a moment, amused, as Veronica slid effortlessly into full-on attack mode. It was clear from the expression on his face that this was a facet of her personality that Garcia had never encountered before. Then he moved toward the door, more than ready to leave before he said something unpleasant to Garcia himself.
Veronica followed in his wake, with Matthew on their heels, outraged that he'd lost control of the situation, until all three stood just inside the front entrance.
"An old friend? Is that the fiction you're trying to sell here, Echolls?" Matthew scoffed. The gloves were completely off now.
He turned toward Veronica, affronted. "Don't you see what he's trying to do, Veronica? He's trying to come between us. He's in the past. You're my fiancée, now."
While Veronica had been angered by Matthew's attempts to bully her, she understood that he'd reacted that way because he felt threatened, so she consciously softened her voice and tried to reason with him.
"Matthew," she said, as calmly as she could manage, "if Logan has something to say to me, then I have a right to hear it, whatever it is. And if we choose to have our conversation in private, then you'll just have to accept that. I'm not a child, or a possession. You can't dictate my life."
But her words didn't have the desired effect. In fact, Matthew Garcia couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And this is the respect you show me?" he bit off, incensed that she could so completely disregard his wishes, particularly in front of...this man.
"I have a right, as your fiancé, to know what is going on in your life!" His voice rose as outrage overtook him. "I have a right to understand your...your relationship with any other man! I have a right as your fiancé to prevent another man from trying to take advantage of an old friendship to come between us! I have a right as your fiancé..."
And it was at that point that Logan Echolls had Just. Had. Enough. He'd spent years learning to rein in his temper. Learning to curb his impulses. Learning to think before he spoke, before he acted, before he did something the would surely set loose the hounds of hell.
But at that moment he was simply pushed beyond his limits. So although he knew that it would probably make things worse, and that Veronica deserved better from him, there came that split second where none of that mattered, because Matthew Garcua had uttered the words 'your fiancé' one too many times. And the voice in Logan's head and the blood singing in his veins were both shouting 'I don't give a damn'.
"Shut the fuck up!" Logan roared suddenly, turning on Garcia. The words practically exploded out of his mouth. "She's not your fucking fiancée! How can she be your fucking fiancée when she's my fucking wife!?"
Veronica gasped, and her entire body swung toward Logan.
Suddenly, there was dead silence.
Matthew recovered first and pivoted slowly toward Logan. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice a strange mixture of bewildered hostility.
"I said," Logan moderated his voice with difficulty as he felt Veronica's eyes boring into him, "I said that some people might find it a little...unorthodox...that you keep referring to her as your fiancée when she's still married to me."
"Is this true, Veronica?"Matthew demanded, turning towards her, his temper rising as he began to understand that she had hidden something of great importance from him. "Are you...are you...married to this man?"
Veronica's chin lifted. "It was a long time ago, Matthew," she answered, her voice hollow. "And we were divorced."
"Then why is it that Echolls claims you are still his wife?" His anger was palpable.
Veronica rounded on Logan, wordlessly demanding an explanation.
And now remorse was setting in, and Logan was almost as distressed as Garcia. Dammit! How could I have let myself lose control like that?
"Veronica," he said, "I'm...sorry doesn't even begin to..." He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and tried again.
"That wasn't exactly how I planned to break the news," he said, sighing, "but...the bottom line is that our divorce was never recorded. We've been legally married for nearly six years."
For just a moment, Veronica said nothing as she let that sink in.
"And you've known about this...how long?" she asked finally, her voice clipped, uninflected. In a heartbeat, she had moved into cross-examination mode.
"I found out last week," he said.
"How? How did you find out?"
"I'll be happy to tell you everything, Veronica, but do we have to do this right here, right now?" And in front of this audience, he added silently.
She glanced at Matthew then as though she'd only just remembered where she was and who was present.
"Matthew," she said, turning to face him, "you have every right to be angry that I kept this from you, and I'll understand if you want to break our engagement."
"Veronica, no!" His answer was immediate. "This is just some kind of a...a technical glitch. We can get it straightened out..."
She frowned in thought, coming to a decision. "In the meantime," she said, "I'm not really comfortable wearing this. I don't have a right to it."
Veronica removed the ring with the enormous diamond from her left hand and placed it in Matthew's palm.
"But I just said..." Matthew looked down at his hand, bewildered.
"I'm not...breaking our engagement, Matthew. I...just now, I don't feel right about wearing your ring."
Before either man could predict her intentions, Veronica had grabbed her handbag and was out the door. Logan turned to follow her, but Garcia's hand on his arm stopped him.
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm letting you get away with this, Echolls," he said. "I know you have manipulated this situation somehow. Or at the very least you're using it to your own advantage. But Veronica will have my ring back on her finger as soon as she realizes what you're up to."
Logan glanced down at Garcia's hand on his arm. "I think you might want to remove your hand from my arm," he said, his voice dangerously low.
Garcia let go abruptly, as though Logan's arm were burning his fingers. Logan took a couple of steps toward the door, then changed his mind and turned back to face the other man, determined that he was not quite finished.
"You know, Garcia," he said deliberately, "you may think that you have some control in this situation, but let me tell you how it's going to play out. Veronica may decide that you're what she wants, in which case we'll spend some time straightening out our legal mess, and then you'll have your fiancée back. Or else she'll decide that you're not what she wants, in which case you'll have to find some other woman to escort to all your political fundraisers."
He paused, hoping his words would sink in. "In either case, there's not going to be a fucking thing you can do about it, because Veronica Mars makes her own decisions and runs her own life. If you don't know that about her, then you don't know anything."
Logan opened the door then, but as he'd expected, Veronica was already gone.
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Veronica huddled on the sidewalk outside Matthew's building, trying to gather her wits. The events of the last couple of days had left her bruised and battered emotionally, and by now she simply didn't know what to think.
She and Logan were still married. That's what he'd said. Still married. He hadn't known either, he'd said, not until last week. But...how? How had it happened? How was it that he'd found out now? Veronica shuddered to think that she might have married Matthew, not knowing she was still married to Logan.
That's what was bothering her, wasn't it? That she might have unknowingly entered into a bigamous relationship? It couldn't be anything else.
Veronica wrapped her arms around herself. She knew she couldn't just stand there forever. She needed to find a cab, get home...
"Veronica?" She'd never heard him approach, didn't know he was there until he was standing right next to her.
His voice was soft, but then it always had been when he spoke to her. She turned to face him.
"Veronica," he said again. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to blurt it out...like that..."
"But that's why you came to San Francisco, isn't it, Logan? To tell me. Your being at that dinner last night - that was no coincidence." Her voice was soft, too, as she searched his face for the truth.
Logan sighed, admitting it. "It was no coincidence." He paused. "Look, Veronica, can't we meet tomorrow sometime, so I can explain everything to you? I know I owe you that. More than that."
His eyes pleaded with her.
"I can't...I can't think right now," she said, fatigue and distress rendering her incapable of even the smallest decision. Her face softened as she looked at him. "I'll call you tomorrow and we can...decide then."
She sighed. "But right now, I need to go home and sleep."
"Did you come by taxi?" he asked. When she nodded, he stepped closer to the curb and hailed the next empty cab to take her home.
Veronica got into the cab, surprised when Logan closed the door behind her. "But...aren't you coming?" she asked. "You don't have a car here, do you?"
"I'll get the next one," he said, pausing for a moment. "I'm pretty sure that what you need the most right now is some space to process...everything."
He was right, of course. He still knew her well. But..."Just a moment," she said to the driver, stepping out of the cab and back onto the sidewalk to face Logan.
"I won't be able to sleep, Logan, if I don't at least say this. I should have reached out to you years ago. Called. Or written. Something."
Veronica took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Thank you," she said.
Logan smiled at her, but his eyebrow quirked inquisitively.
Veronica returned his smile. "For Stanford," she said. "That was such an incredibly generous thing for you to do. And at first, I was so...angry." Her smile softened. "But...I shouldn't have been. I know you did it because you wanted to make my life easier. And you did. So thank you."
Logan smiled down at her and, on impulse, Veronica reached out and softly touched his hand. It was just a light stroke across his palm, but Logan caught his breath in surprise. It was the first time she'd touched him in nearly six years and for a moment neither of them could move, or look away, or even breathe.
Then Veronica shook herself a little, stepped back into the taxi, and was whisked away into the night.
And Logan was left standing on the sidewalk, wondering how, if a single touch of her hand could have such an effect on him, he was ever going to be able to part with her yet again.
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Matthew Garcia had not had a good evening, and if he were another sort of man, one whose entire life hadn't been focused on maintaining control of himself and his surroundings, he might even now be flinging things around his condo or drinking himself into oblivion. But Matthew knew he couldn't afford such self-indulgence. What he really needed to do was think, because this situation had disaster written all over it.
He knew he'd have to tell them. He hoped that Veronica would be willing to continue accompanying him to dinners and other political events, because she had said she wasn't breaking the engagement. But she'd taken off the ring, and that would be noticed immediately.
Matthew needed to do what he could to cover himself, to control the situation, and that began with a phone call.
"Good evening, Padrino," he said, his voice ingratiating, "I hope I'm not calling too late."
A pause.
"Yes, well something has come up, Padrino, and I thought I should let you know right away that perhaps...perhaps I won't be marrying Veronica after all. At least, not right away."
Another pause.
"No, there is no one else that I could..."
"Yes, I understand how vital this is, how long the plans have been in the making..."
"Tomorrow? Of course, Padrino, it's always a pleasure to see you. I look forward to it."
Matthew hung up the phone. Fuck, I hadn't thought things could get any worse. But they just did.
