Disclaimer: So, I just watched the Season Premiere and I really really really wished I owned even like Piz's unwahsed car but I don't.

Reviews: Thank you still to all those who R and R. For those that caught the Bones shout-out; ya'll just rock. And there is always more to art than what we know.

Author's Note: Okay, I owe a bit of thanks to an old Beta friend for pushing the block out of my way. I also owe deep thanks to Rob Thomas for the latest episode of Veronica Mars. I am smitten all over again. A BIG thanks to LoVeAngel97 for pointing out my major error---oops. Also, I mean no personal attack against LOST, some of my best friends are LOST watchers. I am also a HUGE J.J. Abrams admirer!

KANE Household

FOYER

It's raining. If I were superstitious I'd assume that this would be a bad omen. The real bad omen is the Ann Taylor blouse and skirt I have on with matching pumps. My usually messy and urban hip hair is neatly curled and held back with a deep green barrette. I look like a politician's wife.

Kill. Me. Now.

The thing is we haven't even gone inside yet; we're still standing here outside the door waiting to be let it in. The picture perfect New York family- including successful legal father, domesticated over-bearing housewife, two twin intelligent athletic boys and if you buy now, get the adopted black sheep rebellious teenage daughter absolutely stink'n free! Seriously.

The moment the under-paid domestic servant opens the door for us I take in my surroundings. The Kane Castle is huge. I mean Donald-Trump-Couldn't-Afford-It-Huge. The large foyer is done in a design that reminds me of Pemberly from the Pride and Prejudice BBC Mini-series. (I have expect Mr. Darcy to appear in a dapper coat. You know cause Colin Firth would make this whole experience worth it.) There are photographs of the happy family everywhere. Baby pictures of Scott. Hannah as a toddler. Nichole and Duncan's wedding photograph. A picture of the whole family skiing at a posh resort. All the time smiling and happy and I wonder if they are medicated. Nobody can be this happy, I conclude bitterly. I begin looking for teenage pictures of Duncan hoping to catch a glimpse of Keith's elusive and famous daughter.

C'mon stupid, you really think he's gonna have pictures of his ex-girlfriend on his walls, I think soberly. I am treated to one teenage picture of Duncan. I lag behind my family, who are oohing and ahhing as Mrs. Kane enters greeting us, and look at the photograph. It's Duncan and a girl. Duncan is standing with his arm around her and she has her head on his shoulder wearing a goofy grin. They're sitting in the sand in summer outfits but they're not really posing for the photo. It was like if the photographer caught them when they weren't noticing her.

I wouldn't see a picture of Veronica Mars, but I have found "her" picture because she took the picture I'm staring at. And looking a little more, I would bet my signedcopy of In Cold Blood that the girl is Lilly Kane, Duncan's dead sister and Veronica's dead best friend. The picture has captured me because I wonder what things were like for her, Duncan and Lilly and what happened? What happened beyond the news stories, TV movies, and best selling books?

"My sister." A deep voice snaps me back to reality. I jump around startled to the face of Duncan Kane.

"Oh…I'm sorry." I squeal. Did I just squeal? I take a minute to force my stomach back down my throat and size up Mr. Kane. Okay, so we know where Scott got the looks from…no doubt about it---- Duncan Kane, even though almost as old as my dad, is good looking in a George Clooney kinda way. He's 6'3 maybe, with a full head of dark brown hair and a perfect symmetrical face. His looks are unassuming and All-American. His smile could melt a polar ice cap. It's pleasing yet after what I know, I'll admit I'm scared of it, too. I stick out my hand properly for a hand shake. "I'm January Grant." I sound like Mary Tyler Moore.

Duncan Kane smiles once more and shakes my hand---pleasantly. It's not firm or flimsy, but almost polite. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you from my kids.

I laugh nervously. Yeah, I bet you have. "Don't believe everything you hear." I mutter.

He laughs quietly. "I won't."

"I'm sorry about back there, but I was fascinated by the photograph."

"With what? How much Scott looks like me? Or my sister?"

"Actually neither…" Careful January. "The photographer. It looks like it might be an early Veronica M., I mean Mars…Veronica Mars."

Duncan Kane should have been shaken by my statement. I want to shake him. I want him to know that I am in the battle and I am armed. I want him to be afraid of me or if nothing else, never write me off. I want to get back at him for what he did to my hero. Yet Duncan isn't shaken but his look turns dark for a moment and then a straight poker face. "How did you know who took that photo?" His even tone voice replies, looking past me to it.

"Veronica had a show in New York at my friend's mom's gallery. I went and have been in love with her photographs since. I can spot one of her photos or a real one very easily. Her style is unique. But obviously, since this had to be when you were teens she wasn't quite a professional…"

He gave a small wry small. "Professional is the last word, I would think of…" He mumbled, thinking I wouldn't hear him.

"I have one of her photographs in my room…Shot of Three. It's amazing how she captured three people who seem still but move in the photograph. You see they move in an area of stillness- a graveyard. The photo looks like someone stole a moment from the three and they never knew why it had to be stolen." I play the part of naïve girl and act as if I am merely going on about a favorite artist. And the Oscar goes to…

Silence permeates the air as we begin to walk towards the living room. It's a moment before he speaks- a defining moment. "She stole a lot of things."

I leave it at that. I could push harder and I could get in over my head. I'm brave but not stupid. Somehow, I know he's not saying Veronica was a klepto. Just what did she take from Duncan? What did she take from the three people in my picture? I should change the subject but I don't get a chance as the moment we arrive the living room, my mother begins to introduce me to Logan Echolls.

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Kane Household

LIVING ROOM

Logan Echolls. In case you have just resurfaced from that stupid island from LOST or another J.J. Abrams series in which you will never really understand what's going on; let me enlighten you.

Logan Echolls was the former boyfriend of Lilly Kane (Duncan's sibling) and Veronica Mars (Duncan's ex and Keith's daughter). His father was Aaron Echolls- alcoholic, child-abuser, murderer, and murder victim. (They never did catch his killer but rumor had it that it was a Kane Corporation hit. Everyone in Neptune considered his death a win-win situation.) Logan's mother was Lynn Echolls-dearest mother, neglected wife, and bridge jumper. All this and his sister Trina is not his sister at all. Logan became a rich boy who lived in a penthouse suite. He spent three years at Hearst University before dropping out and leaving for L.A. With his money and family connections he started a production company- a Fortune 500 Production Company we all know and love---Epic Stories Corporation.

If you've been to the movies and you waited two hours in line to see it; it belonged to them. Logan became the next Brian Singer. He moved from blockbusters to television with his hit show, We Use To Be Friends. Alright, I lied; it's a critically-acclaimed-Emmy-winning-I-watch-rather-than-TIVO-show.

Yet for all his success, which he undermines with monk-like and psychotic-jackass behavior, he lost the girl. Logan Echolls has the extreme pleasure of being Steven Spielberg's ex-son-in-law. Ouch. Rumors and Page Six have it that Steven backed out of Logan's latest film because of the family ties being severed and Logan sold the "family modest home" and moved out of L.A.

I guess we know where he moved. So, to recap, I am standing in the living room in a Halloween costume meeting a big time producer; who if my nose tells me right, is a little drunk. Good Lord man, find some mouthwash! I look at him and place out my hand once again. "Hi, I'm January Grant."

"Are you now?" Okay that's rude, I thought.

"Duncan…" Nichole's voice seethes as she sense Logan's attitude slipping.

"No, I'm not. I'm actually your AA Counselor. Obviously, someone's forgotten the 12 steps- I'm here to remind you. First step…ADMIT you're a drunken slob who does not want to be here." I reply sarcastically. Did I mention I'm not best with first impressions?

Logan sobers up a little and stares me down. "Duncan, you didn't tell me there would be children here? I would have hired a clown." He smirks. He leans down to me, the smell of Jack Daniels almost has me wearing a lampshade. "And what do you want little girl--- a pony or a Barbie dreamhouse?"

"I'll take the pony but seeing how there is already a jackass in the room- I'll save you the trouble."

Logan backs up and laughs more. Duncan is standing further back, concealing his own laugh and placing a firm hand on his wife. Nichole has her arms crossed with an expression unsure of she wants to correct my language or hug me. My parents are sitting on the sofa pretending I don't exist.

"Really, I mean it- it's so cute to hear a twelve year old cuss."

"I bet. I guess that means your date with Dakota Fanning didn't go well, though right?"

"It went well enough- at least her mommy isn't dressing her these days. Do you have a matching purse because if you did…that would be so special."

"No matching purse." I shrug. "They sold-out---you know…" I lower my voice. "Kinda like your career."

The room was silent. Logan's face no longer held amusement- it didn't hold anger either. Duncan's hands were in the pockets of his neatly pressed khakis; a sure sign from him I was in trouble. Nichole was retreating as fast as she could to the kitchen to menial tasks. My Dad was standing and walking towards me with a furrowed brow. This was his bluff. The look was supposed to scare me into apologies and other niceties. I never bought it. My Mom was sitting at the edge of the couch gulping her wine back. But before the situation could explode; the bell rang.

Saved by the bell. Or rather Coach Casablancas and his wife and kids.

What circle of hell is this?