Lightbulb

Logan crossed the video store parking lot and slid into his yellow X-Terra, slinging the bag of DVDs and console games onto the passenger seat. He turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.

"Fuck!" He slammed a hand down on the steering wheel.

He tried the lights; they still worked, but it looked like one of the headlights was blown out.

"Shit," he muttered this time.

He popped the hood, then climbed out of the car to check it out. Which would have been all well and good, except, other than being able to prop up the hood, he knew fuck all about cars. He'd always had people on hand to do that for him. And of course, it was late and he didn't even have a flashlight with him.

With a sigh, he peered uneasily under the hood, barely able to see the engine, let alone figure out what was wrong with the car. Hands on his hips, he took a step back to survey the damage, and noticed the driver's side headlamp had been bashed in.

"Fucking PCHers."

It was payback, he supposed… for, well, everything. For the whole Felix thing, for the 09er-PCH gang feuds, hell, probably even for what he did to Veronica's car last year. He patted his pocket, feeling for his phone… only to find it wasn't there. Shit. He'd left it in his room at The Grand.

"Fucking perfect."

"Well, well, well…" came a voice from behind him. Logan turned to see Weevil appearing out of the shadows. "I wonder… how many rich boys does it take to change a lightbulb?"

"Was this your doing?" Logan demanded to know, squaring his shoulders and staring down the Hispanic biker. "Some twisted sort of revenge?"

"Hey, don't look at me, man." Weevil held his hands up, jutting out his jaw as he sneered at him. "If I wanted revenge, I'd do a hell of a lot more than fuck up your car."

Logan's eyes narrowed as he advanced on him. "Is that a threat, paco?"

Weevil shrugged. "Nah, just an observation."

"It'd better be."

"Look, we called a truce, didn't we, Opie? We're playing nice now."

"That's what I thought," Logan responded, looking at him suspiciously. "But you never can be too careful."

Weevil ignored him and instead nodded toward the car. "Looks like you're in need of some help there. What, no mechanic on speed dial? Daddy's connections all dried up?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Chill out, man." Weevil rolls his eyes. "I'm here to offer my services."

"Sorry, pal, don't swing that way," Logan quipped sarcastically.

Weevil shook his head, his lip curling up. "You know what, rich boy? I was gonna be nice… but fuck that. You can fix your own damn car."

He turned, started walking away, leaving Logan scowling after him, who was on the verge of spewing another rude and likely inappropriate retort when he realised he was letting his only chance of actually getting his car running tonight slip away.

"Hey, wait!" he called out, stepping forward in the direction Weevil had headed.

Weevil stopped, then turned back around slowly, regarding Logan smugly. "Yes, White Boy?"

"Can you—?" Logan started awkwardly, hating that he was having to do this. "Can you get her started?"

"Oh, oh, oh…" Weevil looked like he was trying not to laugh as he sauntered back over to Logan. "Now you want my help? Well, I'm not so sure about that." He cups a hand around the back of his ear. "Think I might need to her a certain magic word.

"Come on, dude." Logan shook his head in frustration. "Will you just help me?"

"Nuh, uh… still waiting to hear it."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." He sighed, before adding a reluctant, "Please?"

"That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Weevil grinned, pulling a small flashlight out of his jacket pocket as he approached the car and peered under the hood. "See what being polite to other people gets you?"

Logan's mouth drops open as he looks up to the sky in annoyance. "Remind me again why I agreed to work with you?"

"Because you need to get off those pesky murder charges. Again."

"Ah, yes, I remember now." Logan sighs. "What is it with this town?"

"Beats me, man."