Chapter 11 Memory Avenida

Special Agent Horatio Waletski sat on the ratty bed in his dingy hotel room at the less than illustrious Camelot motel in Neptune California. He was going over his case notes, unable to believe the conclusion he was being forced to come to; Logan Echolls had been in and out of trouble for years; a thorn in the side of the Balboa County Sheriff's department, getting picked up for possession, vandalism, public drunkenness, disturbing the peace, underage drinking, destruction of public property and every other nuisance crime imaginable right up until the moment he was cleared of murder charges. After that, one instance of vandalism, which had been dropped by the very deputies whose windshield he had bashed in, was the only blemish on what could now be considered the record of a model citizen.

He chuckled, thinking of the story he'd gotten out of a Deputy Sacks regarding that little vandalism incident.

FLASHBACK

"No, that kid hasn't been in here in years, not in cuffs, anyway. He spent every other weekend here when he was in high school but…maybe he just dint wanna go home." Sacks said, downing the fifth beer Wally had bought him at the dark little bar on the edge of town. "The last time he was in, I thought he'd lost his mind completely. It was right before the Holidays in '06. I 'member 'cuz it was the same day we nabbed the campus rapists. Boy that was bad, I'll tell you. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but if Sheriff Mars had been in charge, we'da caught those scum bags like, a year sooner than it took ol' Lamb. Poor Don. He was a crap Sheriff but a good 'nuff guy. Nobody deserves to get cracked like that. Nobody. Not even a bad dog. Nobody."

"Echolls." Wally had prompted the tipsy deputy, who seemed prone to becoming a maudlin drunk, "You were gonna tell me about the last time Logan Echolls got himself arrested."

"Well see, that's just it." Sacks said, in wonder. "He really did GET hisself arrested. We had picked up these two muh-fuckers who had been druggin, rapin' and get this; SHAVIN' THE HEADS offa these poor girls-"

"Wait, What? " Wally sat up, sure that if there had been a rash of beheadings in California a few years ago, the FBI would have heard about it.

"Nah, nah, not the heads off; the HAIR offa their heads. Left the poor li'l things all raped and bald. I can sorta see the rapin' part but where's the fun in humil…hum…embarrassin' those girls? Thas just mean. Mean, I tell ya."

"That is mean. I guess rapists aren't really known for their compassion, are they? What did Echolls have to do with the rapes?" Wally bought Sacks another beer.

"Nothin! Nothin. 'Cept the last girl they attacked? They didn't rape her, they got caught before they could. That was V'ronca. Sheriff Mars girl. She's a good girl. I've known her since she was a li'l kid. Smart. Kinda scary."

"Good thing they got caught." Wally nodded sympathetically. He knew all about Veronica's part in the capture of more than one serial rapist and the first degree murder charges for the death of a Hearst Dean brought against one of them. He had thought that Veronica's untangling of the rapes and allotment of some of them to Mercer Hayes and others to Tim Foyle had been a brilliant bit of detective work. What he needed to know and was determined to get out of Sacks before the deputy passed out was what Logan's part had been.

"Yep. Damn good thing." Sacks went on. "'Parently, that last one really pist Logan off. We put the two shits in holding. See, Echolls knows how things work around here; he was in ALLA TIME when he was a kid. 'Logan Echolls' was symbolonymous with 'trouble maker' back in the day. Shit, once he shared a cell WITH HIS OLD MAN. See, that was Lamb's sense of humor. Sick bastard. Mean, sick sonnabish. He's prolly rottin' in Hell with the meth head who killed him. Oh, I saw those tapes. Ol' man Echolls was guilty as SIN. He killed that girl. Hope he's in a worse Hell than ol' Lamb. Maybe Lamb's okay…stupid's not the same as bad, is it?" Sacks stopped, looking like he was about to cry.

"How did Echolls get himself arrested?"

"Huh?" Sacks looked at Waletski as if he'd forgotten the other man was there. "Oh, yeah! Mornin' after we arrest the two shit cakes, Echolls finds hisself the nearest cop car and right in front a two deputies, goes Fred Flintsone on the front window with a Louisville slugger! Shattered that thing like it was a EGG. No reason." Sacks shook his head. Then he pointed at Wally. "So they haul his ass in and do EZACKLY what Echolls knew they'd do; toss him in holding. So there he is; locked in a cell with the two coskussers who been rapin' and shavin' girls and drugged 'Ronca. Hour later, not only do the dep'ties drop the charges, one of 'em said he thought Echolls oughta get a medal or somethin'. He shoulda, too. 'Cept we can't really give medals to guys who beat the shit outta rapists in jail 'cuz, you know; we're the Sheriff's depar'ment. Looks bad. Trial was even pos' poned 'cuz one a those turds was in the hopsital so long. Good thing he dint die; woulda been hard not to charge Echolls with murder one."

"Justifiable homicide?" Wally suggested.

"Oh, hell yeh." Sacks burped. "Glad he dint die. Woulda been…prolembatic."

END OF FLASHBACK

Wally looked at his notes and sighed. There were a few different ways to interpret the information he had in front of him. He began to write down his thoughts.

Scenario A; Logan Echolls was a spoiled rotten brat desperately trying to get the attention of his parents and failing at every turn. All things considered, may have been for the best. Parents die within eighteen months of each other and the kid gives up the bad boy routine.

Scenario B; Logan Echolls is a spoiled rotten brat who starts dating the former Sheriff's daughter. Bad behavior continues but loyalty to Keith Mars causes the department to circle the wagons around the rich little shit.

Scenario C; Clichéd or not, the love of a good woman actually turns the psychotic jackass into a decent guy.

Wally looked at what he had written. The facts supported the first scenario and the third scenario didn't contradict the first. Logan Echoll's police record actually fit fairly neatly between the deaths of Lilly Kane and Aaron Echolls. It's possible that he was suffering a sort of post traumatic stress during those years. It didn't seem likely that the death of his father, whom he had testified against, would have jolted Echolls out of the behavior, although stranger things have happened. More likely, it was the experience of being arrested and charged with the murder of Felix Toombs that scared the kid straight.

That seemed more realistic than a Sheriff's department deliberately covering up for someone. Even a department run by as slippery a character as Vinnie VanLowe. First of all, there didn't seem to be any reason to suspect collusion between Mars and VanLowe, who had run against each other in the special election. They had been competitors before the campaign as well. It seemed like a real stretch that VanLowe would cover up for Echolls just because he dated the daughter of the new Sheriff's former rival. Wally didn't doubt for a moment that Echolls could have bought off VanLowe but he couldn't find a shred of evidence in either of their financial records to support the theory.

And Wally knew from long years of experience that money only buys a certain kind of loyalty. No amount of money buys the concrete wall of silence that Wally had run up against over and over here in Neptune.

Sacks had been the only member of the Sheriff's department that he had been able to wring any useful information out of at all. Buying VanLowe drinks at the River Styx had netted him bupkis. The Sheriff seemed to get drunk but not one injudicious word passed his drooling lips. Wally had tried repeatedly to get him to talk about famous folks he'd incarcerated but VanLowe seemed to deliberately steer clear of talking about Logan. When Wally had asked him point blank, the Sheriff had simply said that Aaron Echolls was dead long before he'd become Sheriff.

D'Amato, the deputy who had once been fired over the fiasco of the Kane/Echolls sex tapes disappearance, had seemed a likely source but had given Wally nothing more than a cold stare and the back of his head.

The only employees at the Neptune Grand who were susceptible to bribes had nothing first hand to say about their most famous long term guest. Turns out, Mr. Echolls had been careful about who he allowed near him even in those days. Reggie, the head of security, said his job was to protect the privacy of all the Grand's guests and the only staff employee Mr. Echolls let anywhere near him, one Jeff Ratner, no longer worked for the hotel and in fact, after graduating from Hearst, had left Neptune. During his five year stay, Logan had managed to turn the Penthouse Suite into a very private domain.

Posing as a reporter, Wally asked the girl at the front desk how unusual that was. "Guy that paranoid's gotta be hiding something, right?" he suggested.

"Well, you can thank one of your own for that," Tina said, her cheerful, friendly manner disappearing the moment he said he was a reporter. "Logan wised up after one of you actually masqueraded as his long lost brother to get close to him. I don't think it's paranoia when they really are out to get you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

That was the most he got out of the Neptune Grand.

Another avenue that Wally had pursued had been at Hearst College. He looked up transcripts and financial records. He stalked professors and Deans. Those academic types could drink like nobody's business but not one of them had anything but praise for their former student. Apparently, when he bothered to show up, he had been a charming addition to the classroom. It crossed Wally's mind that none of them wanted to risk alienating an extremely wealthy alumnus, thereby jeopardizing future donations to the school, but some of the praises sung in his ears seemed too much for such a mundane explanation. A Professor Corrigan in particular, had downed half a bottle of single malt scotch and with each shot had been more effusive in his praise of young Mr. Echolls.

"He may be a bad ass, but he's a good judge of it!" Corrigan had cryptically cackled.

"He didn't get in any trouble at school? No problem with authority figures? Cheating? Fighting?"

"What, that thing in the spring of his freshman year?" Corrigan asked, waving a hand dismissively. "That was nothing. Yes, there were rumors that he'd broken into the sound booth of the campus radio station and gotten into a dust up with one of the on air personalities, but Mr. Piznarski laughed it off. Then there was the incident in the food court but again; school authorities couldn't find a single witness. The alleged victim never even filed a complaint. I don't think it ever happened. True, Mr. Sorokin didn't return to Hearst but his family insisted it had nothing to do with Mr. Echolls."

A bribe to a custodian secured the possession of digital archives of student broadcasts from the spring of '07. After many hours of listening, Wally finally heard Stosh 'Piz' Piznarski talking about the conundrum of Purgatory one evening, when there was a loud crash on the tape, some muffled thumping and then nothing for the remainder of his broadcast hour. Wally felt he'd finally hit pay dirt.

He traced Piznarski to a radio station in Golden, Colorado, where the young man had landed a job as a late night DJ. Wally called, pretending to be a journalist doing a piece on the difficulties of getting started in radio in the age of Limbaugh and Beck. He asked Piznarski if he had any interesting stories about being a campus radio jock. He asked what was the weirdest broadcast he'd ever done? What was the biggest surprise Piz had ever experienced in the booth? He asked the question a dozen ways but Piz wouldn't bite. Wally finally came right out and asked "You were at school with Logan Echolls. You ever talk about him on air?"

"No, man!" Piz had scoffed. "I don't use my friends to further my career."

"So, you consider him a friend?" Wally had pressed. There was a pause on the line.

"Is this interview about me," Piz finally asked. "Or am I just someone to pump for information on Logan?"

Before Wally could answer, Piz continued, "You know, you vultures make me sick. So the guy's Dad was a psycho! He shouldn't have to spend the rest of his life apologizing for who his father was. He's just trying to live his life now, and you whores won't leave him alone. None of you are interested in the real story of Logan Echolls and you wouldn't believe it if you ever heard it, which you never will because it's none of your GOD DAMNED BUSINESS. You just want to perpetuate the myth of the Hollywood brat. Go pick on Lindsey Lohan, she at least seems to enjoy it! You people are the reason American newspapers are dying! You give journalism a bad name! You know, most people now consider you guys to be less trustworthy than used car salesmen or ambulance chasers? That's right, and it's all because of shit heels like you! WHY DON'T YOU GET A REAL JOB?"

At that point, Piz had hung up on him and Wally knew he'd hit another dead end. On the other hand, he thought the kid had a bright future in radio.

Finally, just to be thorough, Wally had spent an evening at a Biker bar out on the PCH. He knew of the bad blood between Echolls and the local hoods, due to the old murder charges. Someone else had been made for the death of Felix Toombs but bad feelings like those engendered by the murder of a fellow gang member toward a privileged white boy were unlikely to go away entirely. Wally knew the opinion of such gang bangers wasn't worth much but he wanted to hear what they had to say. He was dying to get the local criminal element's take on Mr. Logan Echolls.

He couldn't find a single person who would talk about Logan at all. The only lead to come out of a fruitless evening was a name he overheard.

"Shut your mouth!"One biker snapped at a younger man. "You know Weevil says no one talks about Echolls. Not ever!"

Weevil. It took Wally most of a day to track down the owner of the nickname to Eli Navarro, former leader of the PCHers. Looking over Weevil's sheet, Wally let himself hope for a moment.

According to prison records, Eli Navarro, a high school class mate of Echolls, had a tattoo on his left clavicle that said "Lilly". Lilly Kane had been Logan Echolls girl. That could have been a source of friction.

High school records showed that Navarro had been briefly expelled after serving detention with Echolls. No bad blood? But wait; not only had Navarro been reinstated, both boys names had been credited to a prank that was now a Pirate legend. Wally shook his head. It didn't make sense.

Navarro had even done his prison time in a case connected to the murder of Felix Toombs, a crime for which Logan Echolls had been the prime suspect for most of a year.

Navarro had worked as a custodian at Hearst College during the time of the alleged fist fights on campus in the spring of Echolls freshman year. Fights were messy. Someone had to clean up after them.

Wally was feeling better and better about his evening at the road house.

Then he got to the end of Eli 'Weevil' Navarro's sheet.

Currently employed as an apprentice P.I with Keith Mars Investigations.

Fuck.

Wally felt his head crack against the concrete wall, again.

"What the hell." He had shrugged and gone looking for Eli Navarro.

He found him right where he'd expected; in the outer office of Mars Investigations. Wally had timed his entrance for a few minutes after he saw Keith Mars drive off. He went in, pretending to be a potential client.

"…my boss is sure his wife is cheatin'." He told Navarro, who was listening intently. "He doesn't care about the infidelity so much as that the prick she's bangin' might be a pigeon worth pluckin', you get me? The cock sucker's from Neptune. My boss sent me to find out whatever I can about the guy. I figured you local guys could get me the full scoop; his history, habits and financials while I work on gettin' a money shot of him banging the wife."

"That's what we do." Eli nodded, taking notes. "So who's the mark?"

"Name of Logan Echolls. I don't have a photo."

At the mention of Echolls name, Navarro closed his eyes briefly, sat back in his chair, a strange little smile on his face.

FLASHBACK

Weevil knocked on the door of the Penthouse Suite. He shook his head, still unable to believe his errand. After a moment or two, the door opened.

"Logan," Weevil nodded civilly.

"Weevs! What harbinger of the Apocalypse brings you to my door? Wait. Is this it?"

"May I come in?"

Logan stood aside. As Weevil walked into the room, he said "You understand; I'll have to have you searched before you leave."

"Funny." Weevil smiled sourly. Logan swung the door shut and walked into the living room.

"Seriously, dude; what do you want?"

"My Grandma died a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, I was sorry to hear it."

"You weren't at the funeral."

"I didn't think the family would appreciate my presence." Logan dropped onto the couch. Weevil stood in the middle of the room.

"You're probably right," he nodded. "but seeing as you two were so chummy, I kind of expected you there."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Logan blew out his cheeks in a show of bored exasperation.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Rewind to ten seconds ago…hit play."

"My Grandma didn't have much so it's not like she had a big will or anything but she did leave instructions for certain things that she wanted people to have. Jewelry and stuff."

"Thank God. I'd hate to think of the barrio erupting in violence over the macaroni necklace."

"You mean the one you made her?" Weevil raised an eyebrow as Logan looked at him in mild surprise.

"I was six." Logan shrugged. "Even at that age I knew my mother wouldn't want it. Did she will it back to me or is it now a Navarro family heirloom?"

"She was buried in it."

That got the reaction Weevil hoped it would; for a moment, just a moment, the mask of the smart ass fell away and Weevil knew he was seeing the kid his grandmother had loved. It was only an instant but it was enough for Weevil to know that that kid existed; that he was real.

"I suppose it was the nicest thing she owned?" Logan smirked, the mask firmly back in place.

"She was buried in a pewter bracelet I made for her my first year in shop, the silver brooch Chardo gave her…"

"Which he bought with the stolen credit card that cost your grandma her job."

"…and the necklace you gave her. In her instructions, she said she wanted to be buried in the jewelry her boys made her. She considered you one of her own."

Logan looked over his shoulder out the glass doors to the balcony and the sky beyond. Then he turned back to Weevil and nodded.

"I always hated you for that." Weevil shook his head and smiled.

"Oh, you hated me for a lot more than that."

"Yeah. There was always so much to choose from." Weevil nodded, his grin widening "But that was enough. You were the rich white boy whose house she cleaned and whose ass she kissed. You had everything anyone could possibly want and all I ever had was my grandma. Why in the hell did I have to share her with you?"

"Is that why you went after Lilly?" Logan asked quietly.

"NO, are you nuts?" Weevil laughed. "I never went after Lilly! Lilly came after me."

Logan nodded once, as though he had no trouble believing that Lilly had been the aggressor.

"And that had nothing to do with you. At least, not on my end." Weevil continued. "I loved her. Or, I could have. You never crossed my mind when I was with Lilly. But when she kept going back to you, it was one more reason to hate your white ass."

"So...what? You decided to punish me by coming over here and dragging me down Memory Avenida with you? Sorry; I don't know how to say 'lane' in migrant worker."

"Yeah, you can insult me all you want, it ain't gonna do you no good. I came here because I know you now. How come you never told me?"

"Remember back a few minutes ago, when I had no idea what you were talking about? We're there again."

"How much was the monthly rent my Grandma paid you?" Weevil demanded.

"That's none of your business."

"I just spent the last couple a weeks cleaning up her accounts. You never charged her a dime! How come you never told me?"

"Because it was NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS."

"She was MY Grandma!"

"It's MY house!"

"For three years it's been gnawing at my guts that you held the power of eviction over her head; that any wrong move, a late payment, too many maintenance requests, whatever! And you'd throw her out on the street! Hell, so many times I wanted to get in your face and I didn't because I was afraid you'd retaliate against her and now, NOW I find out you were supporting her? That was MY JOB."

"Oh spare me the Latin American macho bullshit and go take care of your nieces and nephews. Frankly, the amount of rent I could've collected on that roach trap wasn't worth the paper work to draw up a lease agreement."

"It's not the money, it's –"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Letty paid with currency besides money?" Logan raised an eyebrow and smirked lasciviously.

"I know she did! That's why I'm here." Weevil reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he held toward Logan, who crossed his arms and glared back at him.

"The deal your grandma and I had was between us." He snapped. "You got a problem with it, take it up with her."

"Take it." Weevil grinned, still holding out the envelope. "It's not what you think."

Reluctantly, Logan snatched the envelope out of Weevil's hand. Still glaring, he ran a finger under the flap and reaching inside, frowned. He looked down at it as he drew out an old, yellowed card. When he realized what it was, he started to laugh, pressed the card against his heart and looked up at Weevil.

"I will treasure this to the end of my days." He said, seriously.

"You better!" Weevil laughed. "My Grandma made the best chocolate chip cookies in the world."

"That she did." Logan nodded, tucking the recipe card into his shirt pocket. He sighed, then stood and walked over to the bar. "Let's drink a toast to the passing of Letitia Nevarro. Tequila?"

"I'd prefer the Glenlivet, if you don't mind." Weevil said.

"Oh. A man after my own heart." Logan cocked one eyebrow. "You'll like this." He reached for a small square bottle of Cardhu.

Twenty minutes later the two of them were sitting on the balcony, drinking whiskey, smoking the cigars Logan had dug out of his humidor and reminiscing about Grandma Letty.

"She would never let us bad mouth you in the house," Weevil said, blowing a smoke ring into the sky. "I thought it was from fear that word would get back to you and you'd throw her out. Now, I find out it's because she owed you."

"I owed her, you dumb ass," Logan said around the end of his stogie. "I'd have given her back her job if you hadn't burned my house down. Asshole."

"That fire was an accident!" Weevil batted his eyes, innocently.

"Right." Logan snorted. " Insurance doesn't pay out on arson. So it was a win-win. Except for the part about me being homeless."

"Cry me a river." Weevil said, holding up a thumb and forefinger to play the world's tiniest violin. Then he looked over his shoulder back into the suite. "Although, this place does suck."

Just then, Logan's phone rang. He pulled it out and seeing who it was, answered.

"Hey, there, Sugarpuss! Oh, just sitting on the balcony sharing a snort and a smoke with Eli, toasting the late, great Letitia Navarro… Yes, really… That's what I said! Yep… Okay… See you later." He ended the call and pocketed the phone.

"Veronica wanted to know if Death and Pestilence were on their way over." he said, taking a long draw off his cigar.

"I guess that makes you War and me Famine." Weevil nodded. "That sounds about right." Then he took the cigar out of his mouth and peered at Logan. "Although V wages a decent war, herself. You have no idea what she risked for you."

"What do you know about it?" Logan asked.

"She's the only person who ever got away with punching me in the face."

"Good for her." Logan chuckled. "When did this happen?"

"When that Ruskie nabbed you," Weevil said, "She asked for my help and I said she was better off without you. Punched me right in the face. That girl was crazy."

"Yeah, I've seen Veronica bat shit crazy. You're lucky she wasn't holding a tire iron."

"Was I?" Weevil raised an eyebrow. "I've wondered about it for years but I guess V always knew, didn't she?"

"Probably. Knew what?"

"That underneath that jackass's exterior you work so hard to cultivate, you're actually a decent guy."

"How dare you. I've killed men for less."

"Right." It was Weevil's turn to snort.

"Bet I could toss you over that railing and convince everyone you jumped."

"You're all talk, Echolls."

"I hate to repeat myself, but as I told you once before; NEVER underestimate the size of my cojones."

"I remember." Weevil chuckled.

"Your Grandma was a helluva woman." Logan sighed and tossed back the rest of his scotch . "There was a name she used to call me. I never asked her what it meant. Every night, when she went home she'd say to me, 'Buenas nochas, Tekerro."

"Te Quiero?" Weevil asked.

"Yeah, that's it."

"It means 'I love you' you fuckin' idiot." Weevil took another sip of his own drink.

Logan took a long drag on his cigar.

"Your grandma called me a fuckin' idiot every night?" he finally asked.

"Yup." Weevil nodded.

END OF FLASHBACK

Eli Navarro opened his eyes and looked at Wally. "You're a lying shit bag," he smiled. "We don't take lying shit bags on as clients. There's the door."

Wally sighed. His head was really starting to hurt.

An hour later, he sat at the bar in the Neptune Grand, his bag in the trunk of the rental car, having dinner and a drink before catching the red eye back to Minneapolis. A couple of young women came and sat at the bar a few stools down from him. One was a pretty brunette and the other an overblown blond whose large, unfettered bosom couldn't help but catch his eye.

"I don't know why we always have to come here." Said the brunette. "He's long gone."

"Shut up." the blond said. "it's still the best place in town. God, where is that bartender?"

Wally watched the pair of them as they ordered drinks. Cosmos. Is that all the Sex in the City generation ever drank? Did they have no imagination at all? He peered at the pair of them. He had initially thought they were about thirty but on closer inspection saw that they were much younger. Early twenties. He pulled out his cell and checked the time. He still had an hour to kill before heading to the airport. The brunette slipped off her stool and sashayed toward the ladies room. Watching her go, he had a hunch.

He stared at the blond and as she scanned the room, she caught him staring.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked.

"Do you know Logan Echolls?" he blurted.

"Who wants to know?" she demanded.

"Enquiring minds." Wally smiled.

"Really?" She smiled the most calculating smile Wally had ever seen. "Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all you want to know about Logan Echolls. We were lovers."

"Oh, so you know him well." Wally grinned, sliding onto the stool beside her. He couldn't believe his luck.

"He chased after me all through high school. But I was dating his best friend. He dated my best friend for years. Then she died. You remember; Lilly Kane? The local slut accused his dad of the murder but Aaron was acquitted, of course. Like anyone would believe a guy that hot would kill someone. Truth is; I think she went after Logan's dad because Logan dated her for like, three minutes and then dumped her pasty ass. Her dad was the sheriff when Lilly died and he went after Jake Kane after Duncan dumped her. I swear, for a couple of years there, the most dangerous thing a guy could do here in Neptune was have a son who dumped Veronica Mars. Dick only made out with her and his dad went to prison... She's probably the one who told them to go after Logan when Felix Toombs was murdered. That slut was crazy. I'm so glad she's gone. Anyway. Logan and I didn't hook up til we got to college. He was sweet but the last thing I wanted was to end up with someone from Neptune. It's a big world out there, you know?"

The brunette had returned from the ladies room by then. She raised an eyebrow but didn't look terribly surprised to find her friend in conversation with a strange man. Wally had a feeling that this was not a rare occurrence.

"Shelly knows Logan, too." The blond said. "Shelly, this guy works for the Enquirer."

"Hi. Doing another story on the Scandal of the Decade? God, I wish Mel Gibson would just kill someone so things could go back to normal around here."

"So you knew Logan in high school, too?" Wally asked Shelly.

"Yeah. He was always nice to me." She shrugged.

"Did you date him, too?" Wally asked.

"'Dating' is hardly what Logan was into in those days. No, I…wait a minute." she looked at the blond, skeptically. "Madison, you never dated Logan!"

"Fine; I'm being delicate." Wally explained.

"We never slept with Logan, either." Shelly shook her head.

"Madison here says they were lovers." Wally nodded at the blond, who was looking daggers at Shelly.

"What?" Shelly demanded of Madison. "When?"

"Aspen?" Madison made the word sound like it had three syllables. "I told you about it!"

"Christmas vacation, freshman year?" Shelly demanded.

"Uh, yeah." Madison said. "He was all over me!"

"He was so drunk he couldn't stand!" Shelly said. "You told me he passed out the second he got to your room."

"Well maybe we did it when he woke up." Madison spat. "did you ever think of that?"

"I think we come to this stupid bar every damn week because he's the one that got away! You've spent the last four years trying to get another shot with him because you can't stand the fact that he couldn't get it up for you. And not wearing panties when we go out is a sign of desperation. That's what I think! "

"God, you really are a bitch, aren't you?"

At that point, Wally sighed and tossed a twenty on the bar. "Enjoy your drinks, ladies." He said, using the word loosely, then stood and headed for the parking lot as the two women hissed and spat at each other at the bar.

He tossed a handful of change in the tin can next to the homeless guy asleep near the parking lot fence because he liked the guy's sign.

On a piece of cardboard, scrawled in black crayon, it read "My name is Dom and I exist."

To be continued...