Chapter Twelve

After his encounter with Veronica, Logan had spent a long time in his office at Casa de Caring just staring at the books. His foot tapped on the floor to the same rhythm he created with his pen on the desk. The numbers on the page were completely jumbled to him. Instead of making any kind of financial sense, they seemed to create various unique versions of spelling out Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls at random angles across the paper.

He was still sitting there, trying to make some sort of sense of the situation he'd found himself in, when there came a brief rap at the door. Without looking up, he called, "Come in," and waited for the person who entered to make their identity known.

"So studious," a sensuous female voice teased.

When Logan looked up, the well-dressed and highly fashionable brunette was sitting on the edge of his desk with one leg crossed over the other. She reached a beautifully manicured finger to lightly trace his jawline as she asked with a smile and a gleam in her eyes, "Are the numbers really that fascinating this month?"

He gave her a closed-off, tight-lipped smile that didn't reach his eyes before saying, "Numbers are never that fascinating." He studied her a few moments and weighed his options before saying in a flat tone, "I saw Veronica."

Immediately, the woman frowned and stood from the desk with Logan rising from his seat right behind her. "Are you kidding me, Logan?! What the hell were you thinking?"

Reaching for her before she had the chance to turn and leave, Logan grabbed her elbow and said with sarcastic, self-deprecating annoyance, "Gee, Carrie, I don't know. Oh wait, I was thinking I was on my way in so I could work on the books. I was thinking there was no way in a million years that Veronica Mars would come to town for a Neptune High reunion. And then, I wasn't thinking anymore." His last words were a bit strained but only someone who knew him to the depths of his soul would recognize it. In other words: only Veronica.

Twisting her arm away from his grasp, Carrie moved back from him angrily before whirling toward him again, snarling indignantly, "Wake Up! That girl had you pussy-whipped in high school! Are you really gonna let her get your testicles in a vice grip again?!"

Logan's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed an ominous warning as he released her arm with more force than he intended. "I'm with you, Carrie. I want to make this work. You want me to be less than honest with you? You want me to lie and tell you that she doesn't still mean something to me? You know I can't do that. I'm trying, though, goddammit," he spun away from her and then back again, his hand going through his hair as a bit of his mask slipped. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, questioning but not pleading. "Isn't that enough?"

She narrowed her eyes and studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly, saying, "For now."

"Then can we change the subject and talk about your alter-ego being the face of the 'Casa' for publicity purposes?" Logan asked as he moved to take a seat again, looking weary as he did so.

"Sure, Sugar," Carrie purred, sounding much more like her stage persona than the high school gossip Logan first knew her to be. She sat in the office chair across from his desk, crossed her legs again, and rested her elbows on the armrests, folding her hands in front of her, "Now, what can Bonnie De Ville do you for you?"

"Besides being our number one donor?" Logan asked cynically as he seated himself behind his workspace, leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the desk.

"Yes, of course besides being your number one donor," Carrie responded crisply, a heated warning in her words. She didn't have time for him to play games with her.

Logan's feet came down and his hands came together, elbows propped on the gleaming mahogany in front of him so that between his hands, elbows and the flat surface of the desk a triangle was formed. His dark eyes pierced her annoyed and challenging gaze as he said dramatically, "Casa de Caring would like to offer Bonnie De Ville the exclusive opportunity to be its celebrity spokesperson," he paused for effect before adding, "It would be a win-win situation, Carrie. Your alter ego doesn't mind the spotlight and I'd like nothing more than to avoid it as much as possible. Your name, or Bonnie's rather, inspires the masses. Mine is still smeared with notoriety and murder. Apparently the public couldn't care less whether a person is acquitted or not." His voice turned bitter now as he waxed poetic, his hands moving fluidly with his words as if one would not exist without the other, "Evidently, the son must do penance for the father's sins as well as the transgressions of his own youth for not one but all his natural born days."

Carrie's eyes softened for a split moment before she shrugged demurely, her eyes haughty and her tone careless, "Screw them all. Why do you think I came up with a doppelganger for myself to begin with?"

"Because nobody would listen to a pop star named Carrie Bishop," Logan responded derisively, one side of his mouth turning upward in a sneer as his eyes dared her to deny his words.

"Beside the point," she answered airily, waving a hand dismissively. "Even if my name were Marilyn Monroe or simply Roxanne, I still would have wanted a pseudonym for remaining anonymous when I so chose."

"Whatever you say, Carrie," Logan said with a disbelieving smirk, "The fact remains that Bonnie De Ville is a much more palatable spokesperson for the Casa than Logan Echolls is. What do you say? Are you in or are you out?"

"In," she replied matter-of-factly, "But you knew that before asking. Now," she began as she stood and moved to draw the blinds on the office window, locking the door as well, "Let me ask you, Mr. Echolls," she turned toward him seductively, a twinkle in her dark eyes and a sly 'come hither' look edging her countenance, causing the corner of her luscious lip to curl upward as she sauntered toward him and asked, "Are you in or are you out?"