"Don't be an idiot."
Dick whipped some residual ocean water from his hair, which was now just a little longer on the top than the sides but still managed to cling to his eyeballs whenever he surfed.
"Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from you." He shot back at Logan, shoving a splash at him. It missed.
"Dick, I'm serious. I've known you for nearly 20 years, and I have never seen you act so weird around anyone. Mac is one of the good ones. She's smart, and she's nice, and –"
"And she's Bobcat's best friend?" Dick interrupted. He had already clocked all the ways in which Mac was too good for him; he didn't really feel like his ego could take hearing it from his best friend too. That would make his fears real.
Logan flushed a little at Dick's use of his private nickname for Veronica. Well then they should be quieter, Dick thought sardonically.
"Yes, but that's not what I mean and you know it. She likes you, Dick. And not for your money or your body or your reputation. She likes you in spite of all that, and she wants to be close to you, at least in part, because you shared Cassidy. And if you do something to fuck that kind of good up, I swear to God man, Veronica won't be the only one looking for a place to hide your body." Logan finished, sending a weak splash back in Dick's general vicinity.
"Chill dude! I know what you're saying, but there is nothing to fuck up, as you so gently put it. She only ever comes around to hang with you and Ronnie." As he said it, Dick realized that he wanted Logan to refute him. Luckily –
"That's bullshit. She's there for you too. I guess what I'm trying to say is…make sure that you're there for her too, no matter what happens, because you know that she'd go to the mat for you. And I know you love that that's true."
Dick stared out at the horizon, thoughts swimming through his head like the dolphins in the distance. Sometimes he hated how presumptuous Logan could be about giving him advice, but mostly because he knew Logan was always right when he did. Dick just hoped this time was no different; he hoped to whatever power was out there that Logan was actually right about Mac's care for him. It was nice, and terrifying, in equal measure.
"Do you think she'd be up for a Pi Sig party this weekend?" He asked, slightly irritated that his eager tone betrayed him.
Logan just laughed loudly, evidently satisfied with his mentoring session. "Normally, I'd say 'fuck no'. But if you asked, I think she might just oblige." He shoved Dick on the arm, shaking off their heart-to-heart with a dose of bro-yness before sputtering a little. "Wait, did you say this weekend? You mean the annual Pi Sig couples costume Halloween bash?"
Yeah. Yeah, he did.
She had dodged out of her twelve o'clock lecture early, consumed with a desire for vegan nachos and unable to shake the Stacia Kissinger mystery from her mind long enough to focus on what her over-eager professor was pitching. The class had some sensationalized title like "The Next Generation: Emerging Markets in Technology" or something, but it was basically a whole course dedicated to overviewing the possible careers paths comp sci majors could pursue as they rapidly approached their push from the nest and into the big bad world. Not really a mandatory attendance, as far as Mac was concerned.
Stopping at one of the few vegan-friendly places in Neptune on the way, she went back to MI intent on getting a jump on the Manning case while everyone was out. Something about the situation just wasn't reading right to her, in part because she had seen the way Veronica stilled beside her when Stacia revealed the clients. Her Bond had been saved by another meeting with the psych department head, but she must know that they couldn't solve the case with Mac only half-informed.
Her craving satisfied, Mac begins to dig a little into the Mannings. Stewart's congregation's page is rife with repugnantly sexist religious strictures that make Mac wonder how Meg had turned out so sweet and confident, but it doesn't look sketchy in any other way. People post on the church's forum almost daily about how attending services have improved their family dynamic, how their kids are more respectful; there's even a photo of Mr. Manning laughing with a bunch of kids at what looks like a baseball park, like on a youth group trip. He seems beloved, even if his views on women and child-rearing are outdated and misogynistic.
Rose, it seems, plays her part as the doting, supportive wife well. The church's website and her Facebook page are chock full of photos of her at various community outreach programs, from food banks to animal shelters. She seems busy, but not employed. Shocker, if Stewart actually practices what he preaches. A cursory glance at their financials indicates wealth that no man of God should possess, but nothing off-shore or Swiss to point her in the direction of corruption. Chewing absently on a Red Vine, Mac excavates a little more and discovers that Rose is an heiress; her father was a highly successful televangelist in the seventies. Her only brother passed away from a freak infection after a routine appendectomy when they were in their teens, prompting her father to gift her with enormous financial gains but no stake in the family business whatsoever. Clearly, she married someone just like him. Mac feels a pang of disgust and pity for the course Rose Manning's life must have taken. Under all those philanthropic smiles lurked a woman deeply harmed by self-righteous men who, in the end, manipulated her into inequitable, sexist positions. Still, she managed to raise very kind daughters. That's no easy feat.
Rough, but nothing remotely suspicious pops out. Even Rose's father's empire, disgusting and predatory as it was, was totally legal.
The familiar frustration of banging her head against a wall began to wear on Mac's still slightly hungover mind. She pushed out from her desk, spinning once in her chair, and grabbed her book and pencils from the bottom drawer. She booted up Pandora on the desktop before lying on her stomach on the hardwood floor behind her desk, intent on clearing her head.
Naturally, that's when Dick crept through the MI door, with uncharacteristic silence.
He stepped gingerly over to the desk, hoping to do this without arousing Ronnie's suspicions. A quick peak around confirmed that she wasn't there, but he didn't see Mac either. He went over to check her computer, hearing David Bowie's "Heroes" softly emanating from the speakers, when a small movement caught his eye.
Her black Converse, the ones he remembered lying near the door on the floor of his parents' house on more than one occasion, were swinging up and down gently, like a kid might do on a swing. He leant over the desk, saw her lying on the floor propped on her elbows, and finally broke his stealth mode with an unrestrained laugh. Suddenly, he was more confident that he was here for the right reasons.
"Mackenzie, are you coloring?"
Her small body jolted a little at the burst of sound, but she recovered quickly and just smirked up at him, totally at ease.
"Yes, yes I am. It helps me clear my head sometimes. I was getting nowhere on this case and I just needed a break." The way she said it, with such easy assuredness, made the situation seem less childish but no less adorable. His hand instinctively reached out to help her up as she stood, and she took it even though she clearly didn't need it.
"Anyway, besides catching me in the act, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Casablancas?" She shuffled the colored pencils into even rows before sliding them carefully back into the carton. Damn good thing she wasn't looking at him, because the chilly nervousness had returned to his body.
"I have a question for you."
"Something you couldn't ask over text? Uh oh, is it illegal? No, Dick, I can't help you track all the Thetas' phones. Well, I can, but I won't."
"Ha ha, very funny Mackie." Her cute, self-satisfied half-smirk took the bite out of her jab. "I actually came, uh, to see if…maybe…you wanted to go to a Pi Sig party this weekend." He finally looked up at her through his falling hair; he couldn't control his heartbeat when her grin turned into a full-blown smile of acceptance. The room seemed brighter with that smile in it.
"Sure, Dick. I'll go to a party this weekend. Logan and Veronica coming too?"
He rushed to tell her the rest of the proposition, afraid that he might abandon the whole endeavor if he didn't push the words out now. "Well, yes, but I meant, would you maybe want to go with me? I mean, it's the annual Pi Sig couples costume bash, and I thought maybe you'd want to be my date."
Mac's face flushed a little, and she brushed some hair out of her face. But her smile stayed put. "Uh yeah, I guess that would be cool." She watched in disbelief as the tension flooded from his frame, replaced by that SoCal surfer ease that he had mastered in elementary school. "Did you have a costume in mind?"
Now it was his turn to smirk, but it was much more devilish than she could ever manage. It raised her body temperature in an instant, like he flicked a switch. She wasn't so sure how to feel about that, but Mac had a sneaking suspicion that she could grow to like it. Love it, maybe.
"As a matter of fact, I did."