Chapter 21

Blonde Ambition

12:30 am Saturday September 8

"Love is just a word, and what I feel for you is so much more," Mac begins and then trails off. She and Parker have spent the last hour cutting and combing Veronica in the hotel bathroom. All three of them reek of bleach and dye and are covered in long, brown hairs. She'd started reading her vows right around the time Parker handed her the third glass of champagne.

"It's lame right," she whispers more to herself then to the girls. Veronica is wiping dye off of the corners of her forehead and Parker is snipping at the stray ends around her ears.

"Not lame," Parker shakes her head, "Nothing you say will be lame."

"It's just," Veronica hesitates, loathe to intentionally cause a problem when she does it so well without even trying, "Dick's not going to remember what you said about love. He's going to remember what you said about loving him."

"Well what were you going to say?" Parker asks as she moves on to layering the hair at back of Veronica's head.

"When?" Veronica looks up.

"When you were going to marry Logan," Parker elaborates with an eye roll. Trust Veronica to casually forget a half planned wedding, "You must have at least thought about it."

"I just disarmed a man twice my size with my bare hands and that's what you want to hear about?" Veronica asks incredulously.

Parker makes a noise in the back of her throat, and Veronica starts to fear for her hair, "It feels like your GI Jane moments occur constantly. Your human moments never happen." Parker steps back from what she's going to call her masterpiece to catch Veronica's eyes in the mirror, placing her hands on her hips she adds, "So man up Mars, what would you have said?"

Veronica blinks at her reflection. "I would have told him," she begins, before she pauses and starts again, "I would have told him that I love him the same way he loves me: because of his flaws and not in spite of them."

"What does that mean?" Parker squints at the mirror while Mac looks down at her fingernails. She knows exactly what her best friend means.

Veronica doesn't want to talk about it. For the same reason she never wants to talk about it, because it won't make sense. But Parker is looking at her with a challenge in her eye and Veronica can't back down. "It means that he's damaged, he's flawed, but if he weren't we wouldn't match. It wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be able to love him as much, to understand him." It's not coming out right, she can tell by the look on Parker's face. She decides to appeal to Mac instead, turning even though Parker screeches and pokes her shoulder with the scissors. "It's like Dick right? You can talk about anything and it would be okay? It's the same. If Logan, if we didn't carry the same scars he wouldn't be able to know me so well. So I love that he never sits still and that he's always carrying some asshole comment in his back pocket. It's nice that he's overgenerous with his emotions, that he can act like an open wound, because it makes up for me. Sometimes I even love when he uses his fists to solve problems."

Neither of the girls speak, although Mac holds Veronica's gaze steadily. After just enough time to make the silence awkward Parker lets out a low whistle, "I'm almost relieved you didn't get married. You shouldn't say that out loud to people Veronica."

"It wasn't that bad," Mac replies sympathetically, "It was sweet."

"She loves Logan because he's fucked up?" Parker questions with a flail of the scissors, "She loves that he's twitchy, occasionally violent, and has mood swings? She sounded like the start of a Lifetime movie." Veronica's mouth falls open. This is why she doesn't talk about it, because she's painfully aware of how awful it sounds. That it barely makes sense to her, let alone other people who aren't inside her defective brain.

"You know she didn't mean it like that," Mac shakes her head, finally breaking eye contact with Veronica to finish her glass of champagne. Mind buzzing she leans back in the desk chair she'd stolen from the other room and stares at the ceiling, "It's just Neptune, and growing up the way they did. It's nice to be understood. It's nice to be around people who get what you've been through. And that's a tall order when you're Veronica and Logan."

"Or Mac and Dick," Veronica whispers treacherously.

Parker purses her lips, someday they should all have a contest. Raped in College. Switched at Birth. Veronica Mars. "Yep," Mac agrees without so much as a flinch, "Us too."

"So do you love him because he's fucked up?" Parker asks the now only brunette in the room.

Mac considers it, finger running absent mindedly around the rim of her champagne glass. It's awhile before she straightens up and looks at her bridesmaids, "I love him because, because he was such a surprise. Really the biggest of my life. He's patient with me. He's so sweet and he listens and he shows up. He takes care of me. Really for someone who used to be so childish it's become like second nature. Being around him, after Cassidy, it used to make me uncomfortable. And when he wanted to date me I thought it was a joke." She smiles to herself and shakes her head, "He was such a great surprise."

"That's what you have to say," Veronica whispers, moving again so she can lean forward and squeeze Mac's hand.

"That's exactly what you should say," Parker agrees, blinking back a few sentimental tears, "Oh my god Mac." Parker's so distracted she forgets to scold Veronica for moving again.

Parker looks over her handiwork. Veronica's hair has gone from brushing her shoulder blades to falling just above her actual shoulders. The layers are choppy, framing her sharp cheekbones and the color is a perfect gold. She checks to make sure the sides are even before taking a step back, "All done."

"Wow," Veronica breathes as she stares at herself. She hasn't been blonde in almost half a decade.

"Welcome back Veronica Mars," Mac replies.

3:30 am Saturday September 8

Logan opens the door to the hotel room feeling like he's going to explode. His hands are shaking as he holds Veronica's shoebox under one arm and pushes open the heavy door with the other. Dick is on his stomach, his head falling off the edge of the bed. When the light from the hallway shines on his face he stirs, rubs his forehead, and squints up at Logan, "Dude where the hell have you been?"

"You were right, she's the goddamn devil," Logan snaps as he throws the box on his bed. Along with the manuscript it had held dozens of their old pictures, the jewelry she'd sent back to him that he'd immediately sent back to her, and four letters she'd tried to write but stopped in the middle. And then of course there was the tiny little box he remembers so clearly with her engagement ring. She is impossible. Of course it's the first time in eight years when he has the ability to say goodbye to her and mean it and she's finally refusing to let him.

"Is this her satanic bible?" Dick asks, nodding towards the manuscript.

"No it's her book," Logan sighs as he pulls off his tie.

"The book?" Dick questions as he reaches across to grab it, "Mac had a rough copy, but I wasn't allowed. Or all that interested." He starts leafing through the pages while Logan heads into the bathroom to change out of his suit.

"It might as well be titled all the things I should have said to Logan," he explains through the bathroom door, "Trust Veronica to be honest only when it's anonymous." He emerges in long gym shorts and a T-shirt and collapses on top of his bed.

"So what's she saying?" Dick mumbles as he rolls back towards his pillows.

Logan looks up towards the ceiling, trying to remember exactly what he'd felt when he read certain parts of Veronica's book. It was obvious she had modeled the male protagonist, and occasional antagonist, after him. What also appeared obvious to his still slightly drunk brain was that half the passages regarding his character were actually just things Veronica never had the guts to tell him out loud. "That it wasn't just because of Lily or my mom," he replies, "That there are a million other detailed reasons."

"You were worried about that?" Dick squints over.

"Not for me," Logan shakes his head, "I know the whys. I just wasn't sure if she ever figured them out."

"Anything else she should have told you?"

"That she missed me," Logan adds, "That she regrets things. That she is what I've always known, secretly a marshmallow at the center."

"Wow that's a hell of a hidden language you two have developed," Dick replies as he starts read a section. A single paragraph in he realizes he's actively taking an interest in the interworking's of Veronica Mar's mind and tosses the book away like he's been burned. He stands suddenly, "Fuck it. You and I have been having way too many deep conversations this week. We need the mini bar not anymore of the shrink's couch." He throws Logan a tiny bottle of whiskey.

Considering he's only just about to be totally sobered up after reading the conclusion to Veronica's book Logan takes a moment to consider the alcohol. But only just a moment. "Sounds good to me man," Logan nods before cracking the seal of the whiskey.

8:00 am Saturday September 8

Mac allows herself to be hung over for exactly ten seconds before she shoots out of bed. Somehow they all managed to get drunkenly tangled up in her California king bed. "I'm getting married today," she says as she roots around in her suitcase for a pair of jeans.

"I'm going to be hung over today," Veronica groans from where she's curled up at the foot of the bed with more then her fair share of the blanket.

"Oh my God," Parker's head emerges suddenly from where it had been covered with pillows. She thrashes around looking for the clock, "What time is it?"

"Eight," Mac answers as she yanks off her sweatpants and starts jumping up and down into her jeans.

"Mac," Veronica groans, letting her head fall back down, "honey you're not getting married until sunset. Go back to bed. Hair and make up doesn't even get her until noon."

"I'm getting MARRIED TODAY," Mac repeats, now at a decibel that makes both girls want to die. She pulls on her mother purchased, tacky white sweatshirt with a glittering BRIDE stamped on the back and heads to the door.

"Does that mean we're waking up?" Parker asks in a whine. But Mac only answers with the slam of the hotel room door.

"Where is she going?" Veronica shoots up them. Falling off the bed and onto the floor. Throwing off the pair of boxer shorts she fell asleep in she grabs the nearest alternative available, a pair of Parker's jean shorts, and runs out after the bride.

Parker considers following but concludes, "Well, she didn't make me maid of honor." She falls back asleep instead.

8:00 am Saturday September 8

"I haven't written my vows," Dick sits up in bed like a shot.

"Dude shut up," Logan groans, running the back of his hand over his eyes and rolling over towards the wall.

"No this is serious," Dick shakes his head frantically even though it's pounding, "this is like run away bride serious." He stands, circling his bed to get to the desk in the sitting room.

"What?" Logan asks groggily as he hears Dick banging around in the desk drawers.

"I'm going to be up there, I'm going to open my mouth, and nothing is going to come out," Dick replies as he whacks his head on an open drawer. He finds the stationary though and a pen. His heart is racing as he tries to figure out what he could possibly say that won't make him sound like a moron.

"I need more verbs," Logan appears in the doorway as Dick collapses in a huff on a love seat, "What's the problem?"

"I. Haven't. Written. My. Wedding. Vows." Dick enunciates as he stares at the blank pad of paper.

"You make it sound like it's hard," Logan smirks as he falls into the overstuffed couch, propping up his feet on the coffee table and tilting his head back.

"Not to you," Dick snaps dramatically, "You and your author, secret agent ex make us look like illiterates. I know about the 'epic' speech dude. Whatever you said was so fucking good that she wrote a book about it." Dick writes epic on his pad of paper and then scribbles it out. He starts to think of synonyms. Should vows rhyme?

"The book's not about Veronica and I. Plus I was blacked out when I told her that," Logan corrects with his eyes closed. No matter what he said last night to Dick he's not making any more assumptions until he talks to Veronica. She wanted him to read it so there must be parts he was supposed to find enlightening, but it can't be as much he thinks. It can't be.

Dick throws his pen down and glares at his best friend, "Do you think that's helpful to me right now?"

"Just being honest" Logan replies, serenely.

"Yeah well just being honest, you're an asshole," Dick observes, "Everything you say is a panty dropper."

"Lets avoid those kinds of classy adjectives when were brainstorming the vows you're going to be making to your future wife," Logan advises as his head rolls to the side and his eyes open lazily to connect with the groom's.

"I am so fucked," Dick mutters.

8:05 am Saturday September 8

"I know," Mac says immediately when her frazzled mother opens her hotel room door. She had been banging on that door for a solid three minutes before someone answered. Her mother is in a nightgown and robe, thick plastic curlers stuck in her blonde hair.

"Honey what's wrong?" she asks as she sees her daughter's flushed face. Mac smiles as she wraps her mother in a tight hug.

"I know Mom. And it's okay," she whispers into her mother's ear calmly, "It actually doesn't matter at all."

"Honey what are you talking about?" her mother repeats bewildered, she hugs her daughter back though.

"I'm getting married today Mom," Mac continues as she pulls away, keeping her hands on her mother's shoulders, "To the man I love and surrounded by the people I love. I don't want there to be any more secrets after today. I don't want you to ever be afraid that it would change anything."

Her mother's hands go to the sash on her robe nervously, "What do you know?" Veronica appears out of breath in the hallway alongside the women, having followed Mac's voice. She stops short and doesn't say a word to interrupt.

"I know that I'm so lucky," Mac explains, "because even though I was born to the wrong parents somehow I still ended up exactly where I was supposed to be." Mac's eyes are glittering but only a few tears fall as she speaks. Veronica steps backwards and out of sight.

"We never had any money," Mac's mother shakes her head, "And you were smarter at thirteen then your father and I ever were."

"I wouldn't change a thing," Mac argues, and now she's crying for real, "Not a thing. I was always meant to be your daughter. You knew it when I was three, and I've known from seventeen to twenty-seven." She wraps her mother in a hug again.

"And what I ever did to deserve such an amazing daughter God only knows," Mac's mother sighs, "I love you Cindy."

"I love you too Mom."

8:25 am Saturday September 8

Dick's going crazy. How did Logan not predict that the big bridezilla tantrums wouldn't come from the actual bride but from her infantile groom? Dick had gone through the entire pad of paper trying to pick the right word to describe Mac's smile and then thrown the phone at a wall when the concierge didn't answer by the third ring. Logan had been sent out to run bitch errands. He had to come back with pens, paper, and vending machine snacks or he was ninety percent sure Dick was going to end up in tears.

He gets to lobby and finds that there's already someone at the concierge desk. She's rocking some major bed head and a pair of jean shorts that are tight in all the right places. A hot blonde if he ever saw one.

Wait a fucking second. He squints at her. She's wearing one of his Neptune High shirts. It's gray with the year of his class and a small tear at the back of the collar. He'd recognize it anywhere even though he hasn't seen it in years. Which can only mean one thing. Holy fuck.

"Hi," Veronica leans up on her tiptoes and plants her elbows on the counter. The shorts hike up. The goddamn devil. He barely hears the rest of Veronica's sentence, "I'm just checking to see if the dresses for the Cassablancas and Mackenzie wedding have arrived."

"And you are?" the brunette concierge asks over the rim of her glasses.

"Veronica Mars," she explains, "I'm the maid of honor."

"I have the invitation," the concierge nods, "but I'm going to need to see some identification to release the dresses to you. It's policy."

He doesn't need to see her face. He can tell from her voice that Veronica's expression has turned sour. She glances down at her barely there shorts and the shirt she slept in, "Do I look like I have an ID in this outfit?"

"I'm sorry Miss Mars," the concierge's voice takes on a more formal tone, "Maybe if you find the bride-"

Veronica takes a deep breath and then she start to argue sharply, "The bride is having a moment with her mother, if you expect me to interrupt them to deal with a dress crisis you're-"

Logan steps to her side before it comes to blows. Veronica glances over and pales just ever so slightly, "Logan Echolls, I'm the best man-"

"I know who you are Mr. Echolls," the concierge smiles shyly.

"Of course you do," Veronica snorts.

"I'll go get those dresses," the concierge smiles sweetly at Logan and no one else and then turns to head into the backroom.

"They all know they hate me for breaking your heart, but they never remember what my face looks like," Veronica murmurs before turning towards Logan with a hand on her hip, "How's yours doing?"

"He's fine," Logan replies automatically. He can't help it. He reaches out to touch a blunt end of her new (and old) hair, "Did you lose a bet?"

"No," she shakes her head, even smiles a little. She juts out her chin, the way she always does when she's trying to look brave, "I decided to break the cycle. I'm all in."

"To being blonde again?" he replies sarcastically.

"Logan-" Veronica begins.

"Here they are," the concierge interrupts as a bellboy appears pushing a rack of covered gowns.

"Thank you," Veronica replies politely before turning back to Logan. Right now is not the time to talk about their problems anyway, "You promise he's doing okay?"

"No more surprises Veronica," Logan promises as she heads down the hall with the dresses.

"Hi," Logan turns his attention back to the blushing concierge, "I need some more stationary. And maintenance should probably come and see if the in suite phone is salvageable."

8:30 am Saturday September 8

Dick is on Mac's floor, which holds the nearest vending machine. Logan's taking too fucking long to get the food. He's right about to punch in the numbers to get his cookies when he hears the elevator ding and hears his fiancée's voice. He has just managed to turn towards her when she jumps into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist. He's barely recovered from that and she's already kissing him, long and hard with her fingers stitched in his hair.

The motion sends him back a few steps. He blinks at her dreamily when she pulls away, "Someone told me this was bad luck."

"I'm not in the dress," she shakes her head, a goofy grin on her face. She runs her fingers over the dark circles under his eyes, "You look awful."

"That's so sweet of you to say," he replies.

"I told my mom," she says suddenly.

"About what?" he squints at her. She makes a face and his eyes widen as he understands, "Wow, I'm so fucking proud of you." He spins her around the hallway and then kisses her again.

"It's not that big," Mac shrugs but she's still wearing that silly grin.

"It's huge. Monumental," Dick argues, and now he's smiling back at her, "Way to start the day off right Mac Attack."

"Are you okay?" Mac asks as she stares down at him, body still wrapped around him. Her eyebrows knit together in concern.

"I was perfect before," Dick replies with a smirk, "I'm even better now." She's about to make a comeback to his sappy thought when the elevator dings again and Veronica appears.

"Dresses are here," she announces in a singsong voice. Mac shrieks and jumps off of Dick, sliding her key card into the door so Veronica, the bellboy, and her wedding dress can get into the room.

"See you soon," she waves out the door to a dazed looking fiance. "Love you," she adds as the door clicks closed.

When Dick makes it back to the hotel room Logan is just rolling in the loot: three pads of paper, a dozen pens, and a whole cart full of pastries. The concierge, Rose, had gone a little overboard with the help. "Okay Dude," Logan proclaims, "I got your shit, lets cool it on the bitchy tantrums okay?"

"We're good," Dick smiles, opening his bag of cookies and taking a seat on the couch.

"What does that mean?" Logan asks as he bites into a cheese danish.

"It means I got it. Everything is gonna be perfect," Dick elaborates, "It's time for a nap."

"I love that attitude," Logan smiles as heads back towards his bed. Passing out is the only way he's going to get the blonde ghost of girlfriend's past out of his head anyway.