BORING EXPLANATION/DISCLAIMER FOUND HERE:
Okay, so it turns out I was wrong about Veronica's age in the last chapter and I tweaked the line referring to it to reflect that. VM was actually 18 at the time of Beaver's suicide. I was confused, because in the USA (at least NY&FL), if your birthday is in the summer or beyond, you have to choose to either go into school later - which means your birthday is a different year than the rest of the kids (ie 1987 when everybody else is 1988) - or earlier - which means your birthday is the same year but you won't turn the same age as most kids until the next school year begins (ie – you may be 15 when you start your sophomore year in September if you have an October birthday, when most other kids already turned 16 earlier in the year). Veronica, apparently, started school late, which is actually fairly unusual. It does happen, but it's not the norm. This doesn't really affect the story much, but it was pointed out and I like to be accurate.
As far as when V was raped, I am positive that Beaver raped her first and then Duncan. Beaver/Dick carried her to the bedroom and Beaver was left alone with her then. Duncan walked by some time later and found her lying on the bed in the room and then went to her. Duncan sneaked out just before she woke up, so there was no way Beaver would have been able to rape her after Duncan unless he crawled into bed with them.
Regarding the STD, Duncan may have gotten chlamydia from her when they had sex during their senior year or he may have gotten lucky and avoided it. Veronica did not have symptoms and only found out after 'Donut Run', so we don't know if Duncan had it, because he could have been asymptomatic too when he left Neptune and had no idea he was at risk. As I said in the comments, I like to pretend he did get it, and then passed it to Kendall. LOL. Am I mean?
Anyway – thanks to all who pointed out the mistake! I usually work within the confines of the canon and want it to be correct, so I appreciate the heads up. Feel free to PM me if you see future errors. And now, without further adieu...
CHAPTER 21
Mac walked into the lobby with leaden feet. If the five hour car ride with Duncan Kane didn't make her feel like shit, watching Dick tear out of the vehicle in a huff that she precipitated surely did.
"I'm going to go see if I can find out which room they're in," Duncan said as he surveyed the lobby for signs of his diminutive ex.
She nodded. "I'll check the bar," she said, knowing full well she would be looking for an entirely different blond than he was.
Duncan's sneakers conspicuously squeaked across the floor of the lobby and while Mac's heels clicked quietly in the opposite direction toward the world's most inauspiciously named hotel bar: 'The Hangman's Folly'.
As marble tiles transitioned into planks of rough-hewn wood, Mac's feet slowed so she could absorb the full impact of the establishment's nautical themed bar. Historical fishing paraphernalia littered the walls, which were also generously peppered with several cheesy signs written in pirate lingo. If the décor wasn't already making her feel queasy, she was sure that the smell of old fish fry oil wafting across the room was doing the trick.
The bar's few patrons were treated to Elvis softly serenading them over a cheaply constructed sound system. Mac unconsciously hummed along and found herself recalling childhood memories of her dad playing 'Blue Hawaii' on her old ghetto blaster during their frequent outings at Dog Beach. She wondered briefly if Big Dick Casablancas liked to listen to Elvis too.
In the corner of the darkened bar, under an oversized hangman's noose, she found Dick cuddled up to a bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses. She slowly approached and waited in vain for him to look up.
"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you've got that handled," she noted dryly.
Dick lifted his head and peered at Mac through red-rimmed eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked with genuine curiosity, rather than the malice she was expecting.
Mac pulled out a chair and slowly sat down in it. "Take a wild guess, Dick."
He turned over one of the empty shot glasses, filled it with spirits and then slid it across the table to her. "Apparently, when I ordered a full bottle, Gargamel, tending bar over there, assumed that friends would be joining me. Guess nobody in Carmel knows how to hold their liquor," he said with a forced, half-chuckle as he shook the bottle to show Mac that it was already ¼ empty. "Not like me, at least."
Mac swallowed thickly and gamely raised her shot glass. "What are we drinking to?"
Dick's laugh was genuine this time. "Let's drink to douchebaggery. Something I'm a little bit of an expert in," he spat out before taking down the shot.
"To douchebaggery," Mac repeated, echoing his performance. The pale amber liquid burned as it went down, but she welcomed the discomfort. She deserved it.
Dick smiled sadly. "You're so cool, Mac," he said earnestly as he fidgeted with the cap of the bottle.
She steadied his hand with her own and lowered her head to look in his eyes. "What's going on with you, Dick?"
He pulled his hand away and swiped his nose with the back of it. "I know Beaver raped Ronnie, okay? I mean, I didn't at the time obviously, but I get it now."
"He also killed a lot of people. Does him raping Veronica honestly make him that much worse in your eyes?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
Dick's eyes welled with tears and he let them roll down his cheeks, unashamed. "Come on," he rasped, urging her not to treat him with kid gloves.
Mac took a deep breath and poured them both another round. "I know you blame yourself because you teased him a lot about sex, but just like the bus crash, what he did that night was not your fault."
Dick rubbed his hands roughly over his face. "You don't get it Mac, this was completely my fault."
"You weren't in the room with him when he did it," she insisted defensively.
He choked back a sob and then forced another shot down his throat. "I was there. Kind of," he admitted.
Mac's face contorted while her stomach rocketed to the ground. She stood halfway up on legs of jelly and braced herself on the table's edge. "Are you telling me that you rap-?"
His eyes bulged. "No! God, no!" he swore. "Do you really think I'd do that?" he asked, hurt than she would even entertain the thought.
Mac's brows knitted and she sunk back down into her seat. "No. It's just, when you said you were there..."
She lifted the shot glass gingerly to her lips before changing her mind and setting it down on the table again. "So, what exactly are you saying then?" she asked, really not wanting to hear his response.
He shook his head at the bottle and pouted his lips. "Look, I know once I tell you, you're out the door, so I wanna say something to you first, okay?"
She could feel her limbs starting to go numb as all of the blood in her body rushed to her head. "Okay," she managed to peep out before her throat ran dry.
Dick seemed to be conflicted on what to do with his body, but finally settled himself forward and grabbed Mac's free hand, which caused her to hold her breath in anticipation. "I know you probably think I'm just some player or that I'm working through some weird Cassidy-based shit by creeping on you, but I actually...Mac, I really do like you. A lot."
Her lips parted as she wrestled with finding something appropriate to say, but she was at a loss for words.
"You're so cool and smart and you just don't give a shit what anybody thinks about you," he continued, flipping his hair back away from his face.
"That's not true..." she said softly.
"I'm scared you won't ever talk to me again when you find out what a huge scumbag I was that night," Dick admitted with a grimace.
Mac squeezed his hand. "You being a scumbag is not exactly a revelation," she assured him.
He laughed and played with the rings on her fingers. "I just...I guess I just want you to know that I'm not that guy anymore, okay? I mean, I know I'll never be Mother Teresa, but I'm not fucking Hitler anymore either. I'm less messed up, now that I'm on my own."
All of this intimacy was beginning to weird her out. "Not Mother Teresa. Not Hitler. Got it," she confirmed.
Spontaneously, Dick pressed his lips to the inside of Mac's wrist and it stole her breath away. It was such a simple gesture, yet it conveyed so much about him to her. Whatever he did, whatever he was in the past, he obviously regretted it, and for some strange reason, he really did care about her.
Why make him suffer more for his sins when he was already punishing himself so savagely? What would be the point?
Mac slid into the booth beside Dick and placed her hand to his cheek. "It doesn't matter okay. Whatever you did, just let it go. Alright?"
His blue eyes were wet but smiling at her now. "I can't let it go. Not yet."
She could have sworn she felt her heart seize up when he looked into her eyes. "Forgive yourself, Dick. Do it for me. If I can forgive Cassidy for everything he did, I can forgive you for much less. Just don't...don't tell me what it was that you did. I don't want to think about it every time I look at you. I don't want to have to get past stuff for us to be friends, because...I, um...I actually kind of like being your friend, and I'd really miss you if I had to ditch you."
"You still want to be my friend?" Dick asked with a grin.
She bit her bottom lip and averted her eyes from his. "If you insist..."
Mac's hand started to side down his face but he held it there beneath his own. "I totally insist," he said, looking at her with unabashed adoration.
She could feel her cheeks grow hot from his gaze, and finally accepted what she had been denying since the first time Dick tried to kiss her on the beach during their freshman year: there was something between them, something unrelated to Cassidy or even Veronica and Logan.
Between the tears, the liquor, and Dick's dazzling expression drinking her in, she had to fight off the urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss him senseless. She had no idea what to do with all of these new feelings she was experiencing, but she had to figure out a way to tuck them away somewhere, because he was clearly not in his right mind at the moment.
"Okay. Consider me your home slice then," Mac declared with a wink and let a hint of a smile play across her lips as the unexpected desire percolating inside of her strained against her legendary self-control.
Duncan wandered the hallway of the 14th floor and double-checked the post-it with Veronica's room number written down on it. It had taken $200 and a sob story about a cheating wife in order to get it, but luckily for him, the front desk staff at the Carmel Cove Hotel was running low on both cash and morality.
As he approached room 414, his heart began to race. It had been six years since he'd seen her, but their sad goodbye still felt as fresh as new snow in his mind. Nobody had ever loved him the way Veronica did, or would have sacrificed for him like she did, except for maybe Lilly, but she was long gone.
He knew his parents loved him in their own way, but neither had ever provided anything more than money to help his cause. If anybody could have forced the Mannings' hand, it would have been Jake Kane. He was not exactly a man who was used to losing.
But his dad did nothing, choosing instead to push the impractical and unwanted dream of him having a successful political career, unmarred by embarrassing tales of epilepsy and murdered sisters and secret love children. Jake Kane put his weight behind what he thought would be best for his son, knowing full well Duncan would lose his daughter through the course of his inaction. For the rest of his life, Duncan would carry the burden of knowing that his parents cared more about their reputation and community standing than for the happiness of their only child.
Duncan lifted a shaky hand and knocked firmly on the door.
After what felt like an eternity, he could see the shadow of a person in the peep hole and waited impatiently for the door to swing out. Several clicks and turned locks later, the door creaked open and he could feel his heart compress.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Logan drawled as he leaned against the door jam wearing a standard issue hotel robe.
Duncan forced a smile. "Hey man. Long time no see."
Logan held the door open and waved his old friend inside.
As the door shut behind them, Duncan felt two strong arms encircle his shoulders warmly.
"Come here, man," Logan said as he pulled Duncan into a rough hug. "God, it's good to see you in one piece. Even if you can't really pull off the sunkist look that well," he teased.
Duncan's arms slowly reciprocated, but his eyes toured the room for blonde hair. "We can't all afford to get our hair highlighted by Vidal Sassoon."
"It was Sally Hershberger," Logan said as he pulled back to assess his friend. "I can't believe you got away from Petrenko on your own. Guess life on the run really has toughened you up, Donut," he remarked with a grin.
He cleared his throat. "The risk of incarceration will do that to you," he said with a shrug. "It's good to see you too." He meant it. It was great to see Logan, just not so great to see him in Veronica's hotel room, wearing a robe and probably nothing else.
"Can I get you a refreshment after your long journey?" Logan offered with a flourished gesture toward the minibar. "I believe we even have a plastic lime bottle floating around in there."
Duncan shook his head. "I really can't do anything until I've seen Lilly. Where is she?"
"Shit, of course. Sorry man, I wasn't thinking." he said as he pressed a finger to his lips and opened the adjoining room door.
Relief coursed through Duncan's body as he watched his daughter sleep. "She looks good," he whispered and smiled softly.
"She's doing well, but she was pretty zonked after the car ride," Logan explained.
"No, I won't wake her," he said as he closed the door most of the way. "So, um...where's Veronica?"
Logan's smile faltered for a moment but he quickly recovered. "She went to buy a couple of burner phones and a few disguises. Seems like old times."
Duncan nodded absently, alternating between anger and joy at seeing his former best friend in the room. "Except if this were old times, I would be the one in the bathrobe," he said, intending it as a joke.
Brown eyes hardened and turned away from him.
"You sure you won't have that drink?" Logan asked curtly. "I'm thinking it might be a good idea for both of us."
Duncan sighed and sat on the edge of the unmade bed, unsuccessfully trying to block out images of what Veronica and Logan could have been doing in it that would have pulled one corner of the mattress bare of its fitted sheet. "I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn't left," he mused, leaning his head against his folded arms.
Logan brought a bottle of beer over and nudged his shoulder with it. "Youth is a blunder; Manhood a struggle; Old age a regret. Benjamin Disraeli."
He took the beer from his mercurial friend and chuckled. "You and your fucking inspirational quotes. Let me ask you something I've always wondered Logan, do they actually make you feel inspired?"
Logan took a swig of his beer and plopped beside him. "Nope, the quotes are merely subterfuge, to keep people from trying to dig deeper into my rat-trapped inferno without a guide," he said, tapping his skull. "Ronnie is what inspires me. Always has."
Duncan felt himself grow sick at the thought of his friend's devotion to their shared love. "Yeah, so I've read."
"Which one? 'Tales from Mount Olympus'? 'Ares Confidential'?" he asked with curiosity.
Duncan shook his head. "Nope. 'Royal Flush'.''
Logan smiled at the memory. "Ah yes, the book that started it all."
"What made you choose to write about her life?" Duncan wondered before taking a sip of his beer.
"I had a few ghosts left to exorcise that hadn't been shooed away by the therapist yet. I figured I'd put my expensive education to good use, it's what daddy would've wanted," he said bitterly.
Duncan's eyebrows rose with interest. "Aaron wanted you to become a writer?"
"Aaron wanted me to 'stop playing around and get serious about life'. Strong words coming from a man who played dress-up for a living," Logan snorted.
"Maybe he actually gave a shit about you for five minutes?" Duncan suggested optimistically. He wasn't sure why he was trying to humanize the monster. He was, after all, the one who paid to have him put down like a rabid dog.
Logan laughed. "No, my friend. He was shooting a movie called 'The Ivory Tower' at the time. You remember that glittering gem of an indie film, don't you? Aaron played a Liverpudlian literature professor who was madly in love with his student, a consumptive prostitute paying for her education the old fashioned way. Guess being surrounded by academia all day really inspired him...or maybe he just liked to fuck co-eds," he bit out, followed by a puff of air.
Both men grew silent as they remembered one particular co-ed whom Aaron was quite fond of.
Duncan noticed a pair of ladies underwear on the floor and his back stiffened. "Can I ask you something weird?"
Logan finished his beer and crossed the room to grab another one. "Ask away."
"Do you think...would things have been different if I'd stayed?" he asked.
"Like, would you be servicing a guy named Bubba in a maximum security prison?" Logan joked.
Duncan shivered at the thought and a shock of fear at being captured momentarily dominated his imagination. "With her, I mean."
"Are you asking me if I think Ronnie would have stayed with you if you hadn't run?" he clarified.
Duncan shrugged. "Yeah. I guess that's what I'm asking."
Logan's eyes widened for a moment in surprise at his friend's ballsy inquiry and he shook his head. "I think you already know what my answer's going to be, man. Dumb question."
"Veronica is my soul mate," he insisted sadly.
Logan ran a hand through his hair nervously and began to pace the room. "Sure. I can see why you'd jump to that conclusion, seeing how she chose not to go with you and all."
Duncan's ire began to stir. "She couldn't risk coming with me. I was wanted for kidnapping and she had to go to college. I couldn't keep her from that."
"Yeah? Well, they would have me down for two kidnapping charges, because there's no way in hell I would have ever left her behind. That's where we differ," Logan snapped, before slamming his bottle down on the counter harder than he'd intended.
"Spoken like somebody who never thinks about anybody but themselves," he retorted.
He cackled. "That's rich, coming from you."
"You'll always be my brother, Logan, but I never stopped loving Veronica. Six years ago, I fucked up both our lives, but I'm going to fix things with her. I have to. I'm sorry man, I don't want to hurt you, but I have to be with her, and that's just the way it is," Duncan admitted with a face full of determination.
A face he was sure Logan wanted to bash in, though he could tell that he wasn't like that anymore...or trying not to be, at least. The old Logan would have tackled him to the ground by now. Maybe stealing Veronica back would be slightly more difficult than he'd anticipated.
Logan leaned back against the bar smugly and let out an impressed whistle. "You don't want to hurt me? Why don't you ask Ronnie who she wants to be with, because I'm pretty sure I heard her screaming my name earlier today when she was under me. And on top," he crowed, then tipped his bottle back and downed half of it's contents in one go.
Duncan grew queasy at the description and his eyes drifted toward the unmade bed once again.
The key card activated the door lock with a loud click, and Veronica let herself in, startling both men.
"I was only able to get a few descent disguises for you baby, but unfortunately for us both, it means you're going to have to dial down the sexy, like a lot..." she chirped, making a beeline directly for Logan and pulling the knot out of his robe's sash in one fluid motion.
Suddenly exposed, Logan quickly pulled the edges of his robe together. An amused Veronica clucked her tongue with faux concern. "Logan, are you shy? You didn't seem so shy an hour ago when you- -"
Duncan cleared his throat loudly to get Veronica's attention, and she spun wildly around in panic as she reached into her gun holster.
"Hey," he uttered quietly, his heart now beating furiously in his throat.
Even with the minor tweaks to his appearance, he could tell Veronica had no difficulty recognizing her unannounced visitor. She brought a hand to her chest in relief and took a deep breath, then tilted her head with curiosity as her face lit up. "Hey, yourself."
Gory leaned against the back wall of his bank, allowing his head to smack against the rough, stucco-covered cement. He needed to wake up and stay lively, because he knew the next 24 hours were going to be the hardest of his life.
Posturing aside, Gory was no gangster. His life was designed that way from birth. Though his father made his wealth on the backs of others, he didn't want the same for his son. Being an old-school style of immigrant, he was willing to sacrifice to create a better life for his children, it was why he had resigned himself to a life of crime. He could have just made a simple life for his family as a butcher, though if pushed, he'd probably admit that he was still a butcher in some capacity.
Gory was to have no contact with the family business. He was reminded of this every day. His one slip-up, during the whole Castle debacle and the subsequent mob-ordered beating of Logan Echolls, had not been appreciated by Papa Sorokin. He wanted his son to be a legitimate businessman who could walk down the street unashamed. Unsanctioned usage of his family's manpower was not going to achieve that goal.
He tried to imagine what his Papa was going to say when he found out his son would never be walking down a street in the USA ever again, unashamed or otherwise.
Gory tore open a package of Marlboro Reds, pulled a stick from the sleeve and placed it between his lips. He wasn't a smoker, at least not more than socially, but a phone call like this called for something to calm his nerves. He brought the lighter to the tip of the tobacco and flicked the flint, then slipped the pack into his pocket and hit the call button on his waiting phone.
He tapped his bluetooth device and the sound of ringing filled his ear.
The call connected after the third ring. "Mr. Sorokin, I presume."
Gory took a deep drag off of the cigarette and exhaled slowly. He was happy to have the cigarette to slow his responses, it would keep him from bumbling through the call at a rapid pace like an amateur. "Last time I checked."
"Your little friend called me earlier. Mentioned something about you wanting to disappear," Wiedman said. "I would've appreciated it more if you'd had the courtesy to call me yourself."
Gory balked. "Yeah, uh, I was a little tied up trying to pull all of my savings out of the bank and sneak my girlfriend out of her daddy's club. You'll have to fucking excuse me."
Clarence exhaled his obvious disappointment. "You get more flies with honey, Gorya."
He took another drag off of the cigarette and began to cough nervously.
"Don't you know those things can kill you?" Wiedman asked, ambiguous in what he was referring to.
"Look, I don't have a lot of time, so can we cut to the chase? What do you want from me, Wiedman?" Gory asked as he threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it like it was a bug.
"Jake Kane needs to find his son and convince him to come home," he answered simply. "I believe you can help us with that."
Gory's face screwed up. "How the fuck am I supposed to locate Duncan Kane when you can't?"
"I never said I couldn't," Clarence snapped at him. "And I wasn't finished."
"Sorry, man," he said earnestly as he ran a rough hand over his face. "I'm a little high strung at the moment."
"After you convince Mr. Kane to return to Neptune, you will approach Alexei Petrenko and tell him where he can be found," he continued.
"Why would I do that?" Gory asked through knitted brows. "Petrenko is going to want to kill me when he finds out I ran off with his daughter."
"Exactly. Duncan Kane will be your peace offering," Wiedman explained.
"Sounds like a pretty flimsy plan to me," he observed as he peered down the street for any sign of Weevil and Katya.
"It doesn't really matter what it sounds like to you. You just need to do it," he said curtly, ending his sentence on an extra hard consonant.
Gory pulled his remaining cigarettes from his back pocket and brushed his thumb over the word 'Red' on the label before chucking them into the nearby garbage dumpster along with the lighter. "Then you'll get us out of the country and help us vanish? You'll guarantee that?"
Clarence covered the mouthpiece of the phone for a moment and Gory could hear a muffled conversation happening in the background before he returned. "I'm a man of my word. I think you know that about me."
Gory ran his hand over his face again and exhaled his new found ease. "I just need to know...you'll get Katya out safely? I mean, even if something...even if I didn't make it. I still want her to disappear, to have a new life."
"Don't worry about Ms. Petrenko, we plan to take very good care of her," Wiedman purred into the phone. "We'll be in touch shortly," he said, then disconnected the call.
Gory stared at the phone resting in his hand and wondered if he just made the best call of his life or the worst. He shoved the questionable object into his pocket and walked to the corner to wait for his ride.
A/N – Hope you all enjoyed reading this one (a little on the short side, but I didn't have much time) – it's my last update from the UK before going back home. Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger in 2012, but luckily the new year is only a few days away.
Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think with a review – you don't have to be a registered user to leave feedback.
Happy New Year!