It's Raining,It's Pouring

I dragged myself into the apartment with a sigh of relief and plopped down on the Goodwill reject couch we scrounged up a few weeks ago. My feet were killing me after an hour long wait followed by a three mile walk from the bus stop, but Mom had to work herself and couldn't pick me up.

If Vinnie didn't pay so damn well I wouldn't have taken this job, but fourteen fifty an hour to sit there and look "pretty, young, and blonde" for answering his phones was a sure sight better than eight fifty at the Java Hut. Fortunately, as sleazy and unethical as he is, my boss wasn't about to pimp me out to his less than credible clientele and made sure to tell me to "beat it" before one of the Fitzpatricks showed up. Even as new to Neptune as I am, I knew he was playing with fire by doing anything for them, but I sure as hell wasn't about to tell the man how to do his job, especially when I really didn't want to know what the Irish mob needed a private eye for anyway. It also didn't bode well that my mom knew Vinnie from the "old days," but that was a headache for another day. I was Goddamn grateful for a job and that's the line I'm sticking to.

The debate about dinner versus dessert was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. I' reflexively grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the arm of the couch – Max and Weevil were staying in the city this weekend and wouldn't be coming to see me, so there was no reason for anyone else to come to the apartment.

"Yeah?"

I looked around and was grateful to see the slim shape of my phone on the counter, well within my reach if needed. Neptune wasn't as dangerous as other places I'd lived, but it always paid to be cautious.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in."

"Not by the hair on my chinny chinny chin."

"Little pig -"

"Call me little pig one more time and you won't like the results," I warned, the bat resting comfortably against my shoulder as I unlatched the door to swing it open.

Logan lounged against the frame with a smirk which widened into a grin when he saw my weapon.

"Hey slugger." He eyed the door its with four locks. "You got gold in thar hills? You're certainly locked up like its Fort Knox."

I shrugged. "One of those things. Why are you here?"

"Can't a guy just stop by to say hi to a friend?"

"A) We're not friends and B) you're dressed a little too nicely for this to be a hang out moment."

He preened beneath my regard, the silver aspects of his tie and vest set off nicely by the dark blue material of the suit.

"I'm here awaiting your pleasure, milady."

"Damn, she really doesn't give up does she?"

I had protested all week about my non involvement with the dance much to Lilly's disregard. I'm beginning to see why no one is able to say no to her: she's relentless and deaf when it suits her. Case in point, Logan on my doorstep.

"As you can see, I'm not dressed to go out and party, so thanks for stopping by." His eyes skipped down my body and I suddenly felt the reasonably business casual blouse and knee-length skirt was lingerie for all the protection it afforded me from the burning heat of his gaze. I instinctively reached for something to cover myself and found wood in my hand.

A well-shod foot stopped the door from closing entirely and I resisted the urge to slam my head against it repeatedly. I was so close, so close, to having a nice evening devoid of anything more pressing than Rocky Road ice cream in my jammies while watching horrible reality tv.

"Lilly's waiting in the car and isn't going to let this go."

His winsome "Nope," and "I have full authorization to drag you out by your hair," weren't comforting.

"Why is this so important for her?"

"She wants you and Dick to fuck."

The baldness of his statement startled him as if it wasn't what he intended to say.

"I see."

And I think I did.

When Lilly convinced me to go to one of the 09er blowout parties, I had agreed because I was curious to see if the rumors going around at school were true. The results were mixed: yes there was a lot of alcohol, illegal drugs, and tons of sex, but it wasn't really any better or worse than other parties I'd been to, just minus death and destruction and the police. I had noticed Logan there with stick-thin Caitlyn, and other than hand-feed her a sandwich (or a dozen), nothing else of particular interest and I wanted to go home.

Before I could, however, Lilly had stopped me with a hand to my wrist and a pitying smile on her face.

"He's so out of your league, it's not even funny."

Apparently she saw me see him and felt it her duty to warn me off.

"I'm not even trying to play ball with him, Lils."

I figured if she can call me "Ronica" I can call her "Lils," especially since it seems to annoy her as much as her nickname for me. Friendship is a tricky thing between girls.

"Good 'cause I would hate to see you get hurt."

Female to female translation: stay the hell away from my ex or I'll end you.

What I didn't understand was why exactly she seemed to think of me as a threat. Logan didn't treat me like any of the other 09er girls; our conversations were filled with sharp-tongued mockery no matter what subject we discussed. He never flirted with me, overtly checked me out (he was a guy after all and teenaged boys are pre-programmed to look at pretty girls regardless of their personal feelings for them), or thought much of me aside from some white trash overreaching her place. He and I had reached a comfortable place where spite and derision made up ninety-nine percent of our interactions, so I wasn't quite sure how she interpreted the same situations so radically different.

Of course, her reasoning for Dick of all people to sleep with me was a lot easier to understand; he was Logan's lifelong best friend and both religiously followed the bro code of never taking up with each others' exes or hookups. If Dick touched me then there was absolutely no possibility of something romantic or sexual ever happening with Logan.

I snorted, ignoring Logan's questioning brow or his "Want to share with the rest of the class?"

There were no words to explain the depths of my burgeoning fury or extreme fatigue so I didn't bother. Lilly would still be Lilly and I would still be a pawn. It wasn't often anymore I found myself in situations I couldn't control and I had allowed this to happen by not rejecting Lilly's initial overtures of friendship earlier in the year. Apparently I was lying when I told myself I was a strong and independent girl who didn't need anyone to bolster my self-confidence. I wanted so badly to fit in and pretend last year hadn't happened, I fell into a cleverly laid trap despite telling myself I had Lilly's number. I could've made friends with Wallace, my Chem partner, or gotten to know Mac, the one Max crushed on so hard and was still in constant contact with, but I had to be at the top of the social pyramid because I liked being there. Being popular, or tangentially connected to the popular kids, made school life easier and helped me forget what fucking hell my home life could be. It wasn't an excuse for being so stupid, but it helped calm me so I could plan.

Lilly wanted to play, so lets play.

"Mars, this is Control. Earth to Mars, Earth to Mars."

I snapped out of my self-actualizing wanderings and tuned back into Logan's presence. I had my epiphany while staring dazedly at his dimpled tie, idly noting how the white of the shirt made his skin look even tanner.

"Can you go wait with her? It'll take me fifteen minutes to get ready."

"Yeah right, I've heard that before."

The puzzled look had faded to be replaced by disbelief.

"Seriously, give me fifteen."

"Uh huh, I'll be checking my watch."

I waved him away and locked the doors before rushing back to my room. I quickly thumbed through the contents of my closet until I reached the back where the rubicund dress hung. It wasn't anything like the one Lilly tried to get me into – for one, a lot more modest – but it was the right color.

It was something Weevil had bought me as a belated birthday gift, an uncharacteristically gallant gesture which had turned his cheeks nearly the color of the dress. Back before everything went to hell at Pan High, he'd dragged me to the mall after he learned I'd been asked to a dance. He knew as well as I did that I didn't own anything suitable to wear and made me try on different outfits because he wanted me to have "a normal fucking girl experience for once, Vee."

We both despaired as I rejected dress after dress – wrong color, ill-fitting, too short – until we finally found ourselves in a little boutique with some fancy French name. The clothes on the mannequin looked stylish and pretty, but not fussy like so many of the larger department stores' merchandise. As soon as we walked in, I'd seen it displayed before one of the racks, the headless and armless torso somehow not as creepy looking with it on. The halter neckline, with a button closure at the nape, was loosely fitted to enhance a small bust-line or downplay a large one and had a small keyhole in the bodice; the soft silky material then gathered at the waist and fell to the knees in a fluid drape. I had nearly balked when I tried it on and discovered it was backless, yet Weevil's enthusiastic reception to it changed my mind. In the end, however, I never wore it for Trey and it hung unused ever since.

I grabbed the hangar, the slender pointed black heels bought as a complement, and pearl earrings my grandmother willed to me when she died. It took me five minutes to change, five to arrange my short hair into adequate hairstyle, and another five to spritz on perfume since I wouldn't have time for a second shower. I debated about doing my makeup, but opted for simplicity for practical reasons and merely brushed on some mascara and dabbed a little sheer gloss across my lips. It wasn't the best I'd ever looked, but it would have to do.

I twisted around to see if it hung okay, but realized I was just stalling. I rarely showed as much skin as I was right now, and it was even harder to remain bare since I was showing off Weevil's art sketched across my back. The tattoo was private and meaningful and I didn't want to have to explain it since it was doubtful anyone would refrain from commenting. I only had a white sweater to use as a wrap and it definitely would clash with my outfit, but I felt more comfortable as soon as I put it on.

My breath caught when I saw the stretch limo – the one Lilly told me her family owned - idling in the parking lot filled with run-down and beater cars, and I keenly felt the gulf between our zip codes in a way I hadn't ever before.

The surreal moment was broken when the back door popped open to reveal Logan.

"Wow a woman who's true to her word. Fifteen minutes on the dot."

I rolled my eyes at him as I slid in beside him, seeing Lilly on his other side and the Casablancas on the bench seat. I suppose I could've sat opposite of them, but I had every intention of throwing a monkey wrench in Lilly's plans, so I stayed where I was, absurdly aware of his long lean warmth against my arm and thigh.

"Given the company you keep – excluding dear Lilly of course – that's not saying much."

"Wooo buuurn," Dick snickered.

"Ronica, what the hell are you wearing?"

"I get easily chilled."

"It's in the low seventies!"

"But we're gonna be near the water so."

"That's a hideous sweater. Dick give her your jacket."

"I don't need it, Lilly."

"Dick don't be rude."

"Dick don't listen to her."

"Dick wants to be left out of this," he announced as he huddled deeper into his seat and further away from the two of us.

I'm pretty sure Beaver flashed us an amused glance, but by the time light from a passing streetlamp fell across his face through the window, he looked impassive.

Logan remained weirdly silent, but then I guess he was literally stuck between the two of us and probably didn't want to draw our attention. It was absurd of course because he was six feet of obstacle, but predators are drawn to movement so maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

"So, uh, since I'm here who do I owe for my ticket?"

It wasn't the best opening but I didn't want to spend the rest of the ride in awkward silence.

Lilly's laughter was a shade condescending and I restrained myself from smacking the shit out of her.

"As if we actually go to dances." The like losers went unspoken but easily heard. "We're going to the beach."

"Uh okay so why did I get dressed up if I'm just gonna get sand in uncomfortable places?"

"I'm sure you will," Lilly murmured sotto voce.

Logan spoke loudly, probably hoping to drown out the barbed-tongue blonde. "Because it's tradition. You wouldn't want to break with tradition now would you?"

"Who else is going?"

"It'll just be us and I'm providing the lubrication." Even though I couldn't read the label in the dark, I'm sure it was an expensive bottle of wine or champagne because that's how my friend did everything. To excess and without the thought of the cost.

"Fun."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot, you're a tee-teetotaler."

There was a taunt lurking in her voice which pissed me off even more. I didn't drink because I worried I had the alcoholic gene built into my mother's murky DNA or because I worried about the legalities of underage drinking, but mostly because I had seen the consequences of what happened when you drank with the wrong people. It was more a trust thing than anything else.

"Nope," I said, with a long-drawn out popping p sound. "So who's gonna open this bitch?"

The first drag of liquid burned my throat and settled in my stomach with a sour tang, but it wasn't due to the quality of the alcohol.

"We should play a game to go with this lovely Rose."

Lilly reached across Logan and took the bottle from me, her eyes never leaving my face as she took a swig. We were stopped at a red-light so the interior was lit up and I could hear someone's muffled groan at the obscene way her mouth was stretched around the opening.

"Let's play Truth or Dare."

I could tell the game wasn't an offhand suggestion so I was incredibly wary.

"Who goes first?"

"I will," Beaver unexpectedly volunteered, no doubt trying to put the brakes on the situation rapidly approaching the Cliffs of Insanity. Lilly pouted briefly as she was suddenly reminded there were others in the car with us, but didn't make a snide comment other than asking "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Are you gay?"

"Lilly!" was shouted from two different sources, but Beaver appeared unmoved.

"No."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Sorry Lilly, but he already answered your question and you only get one per round."

"He could be lying, Logan. It wouldn't be the first time someone hid in the closet. "

For some reason I didn't think Lilly was talking about Beaver, but I flicked the odd thought away because Dick defended his brother passionately, and quite eloquently for him.

"I would know if he were gay or not and I can definitely tell you he cashed in his V-card."

"Dick that's enough."

"No, Dude, she doesn't get to imply without verifying."

"Did Dick just paraphrase Reagan?"

"He's unexpectedly witty at times."

"So I see."

"Did you have to pay for it?"

"Unlike you Lilly, there are actually girls who don't require payment up front. It's called dating, you should try it."

I could feel Logan choking at Dick's heated words and I dug my fingernails into my palms so I wouldn't utter a sound. Beaver calmly reached out and pulled Dick back away from his confrontational pose, head aggressively thrust forward and a finger in Lilly's face. Lilly didn't respond, probably too surprised by the insult. Unfortunately for her, she broke a Cardinal Rule: you don't fuck with a Casablancas brother and not expect some sort of retaliation. I'd say she got off light. I heard what happened to the last kid who made fun of Beaver: his car ended up on the roof of the Neptune High's gym in pieces. There's a reason Dick and Logan are best friends, after all.

"Truth or Dare, Veronica?"

"Dare," I responded, thankful Beaver was willing to work through this worsening situation. I definitely had no intentions of speaking truth in this company tonight.

"I dare you to kiss Logan."

On second thought, if I'm fast enough Dick can't stop me from pushing the little shit out of the moving limo.

TBC

A/N #1: You can thank/blame the three day rainstorm for the unexpected deluge (get it, get it?) of chapters. Apparently gray over-cast wet days appeals more to my Muse than perpetually sunny and hot days. Who knew?

A/N #2: Fixed continuity and spelling errors. Don't hesitate to point 'em out if you see them.