A/N: I know that this chapter is slightly shorter than the last two, but it seemed like the right place to cut it off. Thank you all so much for your reviews and story alerts. I only own the plot line and the 'young deputy', but please feel free to enjoy.
We drive off to our old favourite haunt, and it feels really weird not to have to use a fake ID to get in.
"I know it seems really lame, but sometimes I use my old fake Ids just to see if they still get me into places." I admit to Wallace. "Its especially stupid since on most of them my age is younger than I am now!"
"Trust me, V, its not lame." He laughs. "I do it too occasionally."
"God, we're incredibly sad people aren't we? Two fake ID using adults who are going to a bar to drink away their sorrows." I sigh, dramatically, but there is a lot of truth about what I'm saying, at least about myself. Wow, I'm really introspective tonight. "I'll have a vodka martini, please." I say to the bartender, as we take seats at the bar.
"Well, at least we aren't doing it alone." That is quite a comforting thought – however sad and lonely I feel, there will always be Wallace to pretend that he feels just as bad and keep me company. "So I was thinking that at, say, eleven o clock we could go check out this new club down the road?"
He dropped the time in subtly, but I can immediately tell that something is going on. I'm not a Private Investigator for nothing. I wait to see where this is going, but it appears that the suggestion is the only clue as to whats going on that I'm getting. Ah well, its easier just to ignore the obvious signs of impending doom and just focus on getting drunk.
By eleven o clock I'd gone through three vodka martinis, a beer, and done four tequila body shots, and I was starting to realise that what Lilly had always said, 'you only start realising that mixing your drinks is a mistake when you stop mixing them', was very true indeed. I don't think I've ever been this drunk, and Wallace is in a worse state, having substituted two more beers for my martinis. I'm not really sure how I'm thinking so straight.
We stumble out of the club, and Wallace insists on keeping me waiting on the pavement. Ah, so this is the mystery that Wallace was keeping from me earlier. I try to walk off in the direction of the new club that Wallace has been babbling on about, but he grabs my arm to stop me.
"No way, Supafly," He slurs, "How's Logan gonna try and win you back if you're trying to wander off down the PCH?" It all becomes clear, or as clear as it can be through my alcohol befuddled brain. This is all some elaborate plot for Logan to show me that 'he's changed' or 'he's sorry'. Well I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him sweep me off my feet when I'm not in a state to coherently refuse him.
"Wallace! You said you'd keep my mind off him, not help him with whatever stupid stunt he's got planned!" I moan, searching desparately for a corner shop, or somewhere that seels bottled water. I need to sober up, and fast. Although I was kind of forgetting why I didn't want to see Logan. Maybe his attempt at winning me back would make me feel better…No! This is why I need to sober up! I'm a nice drunk, and more inclined to forgive and forget than I am when I'm sober.
But before I can protest even more, or find some safe-to-drink water, a limo pulls up, and Logan winds down the window, beckoning for me to get in. Wallace shoves me towards the open door, and I drunkenly fall inside.
"Want anything, or should I say anything else, to drink, Ronnie?" Logan asks, obviously amused by my state of intoxication. God, I'm a bad drunk. I mean, what kind of drunk uses words like 'intoxicated'? I should just crawl into my circle of hell and die. "Ronnie?"
Damn, must have zoned out. Back to the present, Veronica. Ask for some water.
"Just water."
"You sure? I mean, why stop the bender when you can carry on in style with Pinot Blanc?" He laughs.
"Just water." I don't trust myself to say anything else before I've sobered up abit.
"So, I guess you know why I'm doing this?" He waits for me to answer, but I'm too busy guzzling down gallons of water to answer. "I'm doing it because I want to speak to you. Without Wallace, without Mac, and without Keith. I need a chance to explain, and frankly so do you."
I'm not used to such a serious Logan. Sure, we had serious moments, but for the most part he was playful and sarcastic. I'm unsure how to deal with this, but he seems completely secure and in control.
"I have nothing to explain to you, Logan. I was always going to leave for Princeton." I reply. My head starts to ache as I sober up.
"Yeah, but you were also going to come back." He replies, staring at me intently.
"I think you knew when you slept with Madison that I wasn't coming back, Logan." Why am I getting into this? My one night of not thinking about anything and I'm having a deep, meaningful conversation about my past with my ex. Just my luck.
"That night, it was an accident. I got really drunk, and really sad that you were leaving and I just couldn't let the temptation pass." If he thinks this is going to redeem him then he is way off. Its practically making him seem worse.
The limo stops, and Logan opens the door. We walk out onto the sand of Dog Beach, my old favourite haunt. He knows that the memories of this place will soften me up, and make me more likely to forgive him. Damn, he's a sneaky b*s*t*rd. Its not gonna work though. He had a better chance of forgiveness when I was drunk, but the combination of water and the cool night air is making me incredibly sober, although my hangover is already starting.
"I just wish you'd given me the chance to explain before you left, instead of letting it get elavated into a big deal in your mind." He continued.
"How dare you assume that I made it into a big deal after I left. How dare you assume that I gave you a moments thought after I left?" I'm getting so mad now. What right does he have to kidnap me and then expect me to answer all his questions, put his mind at rest. "You know what, Logan, this is one time when you aren't going to get your way. I'm gonna 'explain' anything to you, nor am I gonna forgive you. What I am going to do is leave!"
With that I turn and walk down the beach, in the direction of the Sac n Pac, where I'm either going to buy some more water, and sober up completely, or some beer and get drunk again. At the moment, I'm leaning towards the beer.
I stumble along the sand, and stop to take off my stilettos. Tonight was a real waste of an outfit. I'm not thinking about the fact that anything could happen to me; alone, drunk and on a deserted beach. Although really, since this is Neptune, bad things could happen to me in a crowded street when I'm sober, too. When I reach the Sac n Pac I compromise, buying two can sof beer and a bottle of water. I really don't want to go back to the Camelot like this, and so end up going back to the beach to drown my sorrows.
I didn't go back to the Camelot at all last night, but nor did I sleep on the beach. I'm back at the Grand, taking a larger part in the investigation than I had expected. Looks like my trip is going to last until the end of the week at least. I'm hiding behind my large shades, drinking gallons of water, and trying not to wince every time anyone speaks, so I'm hoping that Sheriff Incompetent can't tell just how bombed I got last night.
"Now, if you compare this piece of evidence with that waiter, José's, evidence, then we can trace the time of death to about 2.45 am." I explain, to one of the deputies, who reminds me startlingly of Leo. I decide that it wouldn't hurt to ask, "I don't suppose you know Leo D'Amato?"
"Uh, yeah, actually he's my uncle." The surprised deputy replies. "How do you know him, Miss Mars?"
"Oh, please, call me Veronica. I met your uncle-" He cuts me off.
"Oh! Veronica Mars! I remember him talking about you, when I came to visit him. I must have been about fifteen." He is ecstatic about making the connection. "You broke his heart, you know." He accuses, mildly.
"Yeah, well, karma got me in the end!" I laugh, trying not to let my head ache too much. "Got my heart broke, too."
"I didn't know you had a heart, Ronnie." Logan's hollow laugh comes from behind me.
"Odd, I thought you knew I had one, considering you ripped it out and danced on the pieces several times." I snap, turning to face him. He looks almost as rough as I do, if that's possible, and isn't even trying to hide his hangover behind sunglasses. He does have the advantage of clean clothes however, and he picks up on this.
"Too busy servicing strangers to get changed?" He snipes. Wow, I feel like it's high school all over again. Strangely, I kind of miss these exchanges of barbs and insults.
"Isn't that your job?" I smirk, and turn back to my new friend the deputy.
"This isn't over, Mars." Logan says, ominously, as he wanders upstairs, presumably to Dick's room.
"Wow, you know Logan Echolls?" The deputy is impressed. "He's like, famous!"
Yeah, he's always been famous. His dad's famous, his dead girlfriend is famous, in high school he was famous, I assume he was famous when he got to college, but I'm not really sure what a deputy, several years younger than us, would know him as famous for.
"Famous for what, exactly?" I ask, curiously.
"Didn't you know? He wrote a book, it's a bestseller down here." He replies, pulling a copy out of his bag. "I'm rereading it for the third time."
I skim read the blurb, and then open it to the first page. It's the dedication, and I gasp as I read it.
"Dedicated to Ronnie, who, wherever she is, was the one who first made me realise that I could make something of myself. For that, I'm forever grateful." Oh dear, I think I've made a huge mistake in judging Logan so quickly.