Previously: The Neptune 3 head to Dallas to throw the FitzP's off their East-bound trail. Due to damage from the car chase with Liam Fitzpatrick, they're stuck in the city for 3 days while Weevil's cousin Antonio does body work to disguise their truck. When Liam is lured towards Florida by the arrest of a pair of look-alikes, Logan and Veronica take drastic action to bring him back to Dallas, cashing in on their folk outlaw status, by making a public appearance. While they're at it, they plant a few clues to send the search up North towards Chicago/Cleveland. Logan reveals just a hint of the hell Aaron put him through. Antonio returns the truck, and Logan and Veronica have spat #459, but make up at bed time.
A/N: Not my favorite chapter. This is only half of what I wanted to accomplish. Unfortunately, the second half was getting way too long, so had to split it somewhere. Most of my favorite parts take place in the second half. Sorry. :(
A/N2: Reminder, this is September, 2004.
Chapter 22 – Day Seven - Welcome to Bluebell, Alabama
Veronica – Day Seven – Country road 20 miles out of Mobile, Alabama
Veronica slammed the hood of the Explorer in annoyance, turning to the two boys waiting for a diagnosis.
Logan's thumbs were hooked in his jean pockets, and his smirk bordered on predatory. "Well?"
"Broken belt."
"What does that mean?" Duncan asked. He stood hunched, chewing on a fingernail.
"A. Belt. Is. Broken." Veronica enunciated slowly.
"So what can we do about it?" Logan asked, following her to the back of the truck.
"I can't fix it. We'll need to get it into a shop." Veronica glanced to the right and left, seeing only a two-lane blacktop road and grassy fields in both directions.
She lifted the rear hatch, and dug out a small bottle of hand sanitizer from her bag.
"So uh…you still have to go to the bathroom?" Logan smirked and pointed at a tall strand of weeds.
"Strangely enough, I just don't have to go anymore," Veronica answered with a palms-up 'whadya-gonna-do?' gesture.
He would have to point out that she'd gotten them into this mess. How was she to predict that the area around (and ten minutes down the road from) the exit would be devoid of gas stations, fast food joints, or any other sign of civilization? She'd really needed to go at the time.
She squirted a dime-sized dollop of sanitizer gel into her palms and rubbed them together, tossing the bottle back into her bag.
Duncan joined them behind the Explorer. "So...who should we call?"
They all glanced at each other, lost for ideas.
"Well we can't call Triple A," Veronica hopped up to sit on her duffel bag in the rear compartment. Despite the sweltering heat, she felt half-naked in her black graphic-printed tank top and denim short-shorts.
Lesson learned. Next time your perverted... whatever the hell Logan is…sets out clothes for you, double-check his choices before he stashes the rest of your stuff in the truck.
Logan had woken them at 6:00 AM, practically dragging Veronica to the bathroom to brush her teeth, she was so drowsy. After an emotional goodbye with Peggy, and promises to keep in touch, they managed to be on the road by 6:30 AM, with a bag full of foil-wrapped baked goods. They made good time for the first eight hours or so. Until Veronica's bladder insisted they find a restroom immediately.
And here they were.
Logan lifted his foot to the bumper to Veronica's left, and shifted his weight forward, leaning his forearms on his knee. Duncan took a seat on the other side of Logan.
Veronica had no idea what to do next. She supposed calling 411 to get the number for the nearest auto shop was one option, but she didn't even have a nearby city to name.
"Let's wait fifteen or twenty minutes and see if anybody comes along," Veronica said. "We can ask them to send a tow truck back for us."
"Can we at least turn on the AC? It has to be at least 100 degrees out," Duncan asked.
"105," Logan said. "At least. And I can barely breathe."
"Unfortunately, no," Veronica said. She could barely breathe either, but she wasn't sure what kind of damage turning the truck back on might do. She pointed up. "The lift gate is about the best we can do for shade."
Logan nodded and crawled up into the cargo area, kneeling on the overstuffed duffel bags and leaning over the back seat to reach for the mini fridge. Veronica couldn't help but admire his ass sticking up in the air, but with Duncan looking on, she had to cover by turning and reaching for her box-o-disguises. Yesterday, while preparing her mall disguise, she'd found a long-forgotten and never-used pair of dark brown colored-contacts buried under the curly brown wig.
Logan lifted back up and stretched to hand Duncan a bottle of some vile looking carrot juice.
"Thanks," Duncan said, shaking up the bottle.
"Now I'll get something for you, Ronnie." His voice was honey sweet, but his self-satisfied grin told her he was well aware she'd been checking him out.
How does he do that?
This time when he bent over the back seat, Veronica made sure to keep her eyes focused on the interior of the box, digging around until she found the contact lens case.
"How did you learn so much about cars, Veronica?" Duncan asked, by way of being conversational.
"You're kidding, right?" She glanced up, glaring.
Duncan frowned and bit his lip. "I'm kidding?"
Logan turned back around, handing Veronica a Skist and making himself comfortable on the duffel bags.
Veronica accepted the drink without looking away from Duncan, popping the top and taking a sip of the fizzy orange soda. "You know...once you and Darth Vader here declared war against my car, I had to learn pretty quickly how to fix things."
"I swear..." Duncan put up a hand in protest. "I never declared war on you or your car."
"But you can't say you didn't know what they were up to, right?"
"Wait, I get to be the Dark Lord, right?" Logan asked.
Veronica's anger fizzled as quickly as it flared up. Freaking Logan. In a moment when he should be contrite and asking for forgiveness, he goes for the joke.
And stupid me for being amused by the charming bastard.
"You were born for the role." She patted him on the knee reassuringly. She was melting in her barely-there outfit, so Logan had to be dying in his jeans and snug black long-sleeved tee shirt. Then again, this was the guy who wore leather racing jackets in California.
"If I would have known people were messing with your car, I would have stopped them," Duncan said.
"Right…" Veronica said, letting out a breath, and pointing her thumb at Logan who was sitting a little too close. "Just as easy to stop a hurricane, or some other force of nature."
"For the record, I prefer volcano," Logan said, licking his finger and touching her arm with a sizzling sound effect.
"Ewww Logan, will you keep your spit off me?"
He bobbed his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she flashed him a flirtatious smile before she could help herself.
Quit encouraging him, Veronica.
Veronica shivered at the visual. "Hold this," she told Logan, handing him a hand mirror and lifting his arm to eye level.
Staring into the mirror, she carefully inserted one of the colored contacts. "Didn't either of your parents ever teach you anything about cars?"
"I pay other people to worry about my car," Logan answered, lifting her chin with his free hand to examine her face with two different colored eyes. "Creepy, but strangely hot."
"My dad tried to teach me some car basics once, but my mom went on a tirade about getting grease on my hands and bringing it into her house. Duncan said.
Logan glanced over at him. "Your mom is a freak."
Veronica inserted the second contact lens, and blinked several times, before tossing the lens case into her messenger bag.
"She's not so bad." Duncan said.
Veronica held up the shoulder length brunette wig and the longer fluffy blonde Jessica Simpson style wig. "Which one?"
Logan pointed to the blonde wig.
Of course.
She tossed the brunette wig back into the box and placed the blonde one on her head, adjusting its placement before taking the mirror from Logan.
"Dude, your mom is so uptight she could stick a piece of coal—"
"Logan…" Duncan warned.
Veronica smothered a laugh. "She is an ice bitch."
"She's just reserved."
"She has serious issues. No wonder your dad's getting a little something on the side." Logan said.
Duncan's alarmed eyes flew up to Logan's. "What?"
Dammit Logan! Try thinking before you speak.
"Nothing, man. Just a guess." Logan looked away, pretending to be interested in watching Veronica apply makeup in the hand mirror.
"That wasn't a guess. What do you know?"
"Fuck! Why did I say anything?"
Veronica glared. "Good job, Logan," she said under her breath.
Duncan's voice was like steel. "Tell. Me. Now."
"Fine." Logan lifted his hands in a 'you-asked-for-it' gesture. "I was in Veronica's bedroom, and she had a photo on her bulletin board of your dad coming out of a room at the Camelot."
"Oh." Duncan seemed to slump in upon himself.
Will I be able to lie to him about my mom?
"She wouldn't tell me who was in the room with your dad, though," Logan said.
Out of sight from Duncan, Veronica lightly pinched Logan's side to get him to shut up. "I never saw her. The woman didn't come out of the room,"
Logan pinched her back. Not hard enough to hurt. "Yeah, but you know who it is anyway. I could tell."
"Leave it alone, Logan," Duncan said.
His reaction surprised Veronica. Why isn't he asking any questions?
"Dude, I'm telling you, she knows who your dad is banging on the side."
"I said leave it alone." Duncan's voice held a hint of a growl. "I know who he was with."
"You do?" Logan and Veronica asked simultaneously.
Veronica felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her lips pressed together in a slight grimace. How could he possibly know? Did he see my mom with his dad?
"Yeah, and let's just forget about it. Okay?"
"Wait," Logan said. "You know who it is. Veronica knows who it is. And neither of you will talk about it. It's not my mom, is it?"
Duncan snickered and shook his head. "No man, it's not your mom."
"If it is, I'm okay with it," Logan said, quickly. "It's not like my dad hasn't cheated on her a thousand times. I'd be happy for her if she found somebody to make her happy. You know?"
"It's not your mom, Logan," Duncan repeated.
"So then who is it?"
"Ask me again, and I'll start walking," Duncan said, pointing vaguely down the road.
"Like hell you will," Logan snapped. "I didn't spend days changing your diaper for you to die of heat stroke on some Alabammy back road."
Duncan looked ready to resort to violence. "Heat stroke might still be preferable to listening to your mouth."
"Sore subject?" Logan asked in his cockiest tone.
"Ya think?"
"BOYS!"
They both turned to Veronica.
"Stop it! We can't afford to be fighting among ourselves."
"Unless it's you and Logan, and then it's perfectly fine," Duncan muttered.
"She does love a good fight, doesn't she?"
"Daily, it seems."
"Wait. You're turning this around on me?" Veronica asked incredulously.
Both boys smirked, and executed a well-practiced blind fist-bump.
Assholes.
The truck became silent. Duncan retrieved his mystery novel and alternated between reading and fanning himself with it. Veronica spent several minutes applying eye makeup in the mirror - a little more than usual. In thanks for getting her charges dismissed, Loretta Cancun had given Veronica a few tips for using makeup to change her appearance. She wasn't sure where they would end up this afternoon, how long they would be there, or how many people would see them, but she didn't want to take any chances. As she applied a sparkly pink lip gloss, she sensed eyes upon her. Glancing up, she found Logan staring intently at her mouth.
Wondering if it's flavored? You like watermelon, Logan?
When his eyes lifted, Veronica got the impression that he would like watermelon very very much. Her heart began pounding as their eyes locked.
Every instinct in her body told her to close the distance and kiss him. Every instinct in her head told her that was the stupidest mistake she could make.
At the sound of an approaching vehicle, the spell was broken. Logan broke the eye-contact with a heavy exhale, slipped on his fake glasses and dug around in his bag-o-disguises for a hat, coming up with the black fedora he hadn't worn yet.
Damn. If I wasn't tempted to make out with him a minute ago…
"Hey, if they stop for us, don't forget to use your aliases." Veronica reminded them.
"Duh?" Logan said, moving out into the road to intercept the approaching truck.
"Duncan…?" Veronica said. "You haven't really had any practice."
"Um…Declan…Marshall?" he answered, fumbling in his bag for his own cap and rectangular glasses.
"Right. And you're my…?"
"Brother."
"Older or younger?"
"Younger, by twelve months."
"And we're from?"
"Seattle, Washington."
"Good."
Veronica climbed out of the back of the truck to join Logan by the road, and Duncan followed.
The approaching truck slowed and pulled to a stop and the driver got out.
"Car trouble?" he asked. He was a good-looking guy, around Duncan's height with dark hair and blue eyes. He looked to be two or three years older than they were.
"Yeah, broken belt under the hood," Veronica answered. "Could you possibly call a tow truck for us?"
"I could, but you'd probably be waiting for hours." He spoke in a soft drawl. "Hop in, I'll give you a lift to town, and we can send a tow truck back for your truck."
"We can't get into a car with you," Veronica said.
"If it helps, I'm a law student, not an axe murderer," he flashed a blinding white smile, and held out a hand. "George Tucker."
"Victoria Marshall," Veronica said, taking the offered hand and shaking. "My fiancé, Nolan," she gestured to Logan, "and my brother Declan."
George Tucker shook hands with the boys. "So now that we're all acquainted, it wouldn't be neighborly of me to leave you stranded out here in the heat. Hop in."
"How do you know that we're not the axe murderers?" Veronica asked.
George snorted in laughter. "Are you an axe murderer?"
"No."
"Well then…" He motioned to his truck.
Veronica aimed a questioning glance at the boys.
Logan shrugged, "If he tries anything, there's three of us."
Veronica still hesitated.
"Air conditioning," he said under his breath.
"Okay," Veronica said. "We'll accept your offer. Thank you for stopping to help."
Logan and Veronica slid into the back seat, while Duncan climbed into the front.
"Ahhh…." Veronica let out a deep sigh. "I have never been so thankful for AC."
"It's our annual autumn heat wave," George said. "Makes people a little crazy around here.
"So where's 'here'? Where exactly are we headed?" Veronica asked.
"Bluebell, Alabama. Founded 1702 by Cyrus Lavinius Jeremiah Jones."
"Ahh…" Veronica said. "I was going to ask about the founding next, but you just read my mind."
George flashed a smile in the rearview.
Still tired from waking so early, Veronica leaned her head against Logan. He glanced down at her with soft eyes and then swung an arm around her and pulled her closer. They sat quietly, drowsily, while George and Duncan conversed in the front seat. George explained how he was considering some New York law firms after finishing law school, and Duncan expressed a mutual love for the city. The conversation took off from there.
After five minutes of this, Veronica whispered in Logan's ear. "They're so much alike, it's spooky."
"They're like the same person," Logan whispered back.
"They look alike, they have the same opinions, and - other than the accent - they even talk alike. Maybe they're long-lost brothers."
"Almost there," George announced, as they passed the Bluebell, Alabama sign, which incidentally, also paid homage to the great Cyrus Lavinius Jeremiah Jones.
Driving through the town's main street, Veronica realized that half the residents – from the elderly man in a wheelchair to the toddler being pulled in a wagon – wore royal blue and white.
"You forgot to mention the dress code?" Logan asked. "They going to run us out of town?"
"Homecoming weekend," George explained. "Hopefully the heat will break before tomorrow's big game."
He drove past a town square that looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, with the tall steepled church and white painted buildings on its far side and the quaint octagon gazebo in its center. Laughing children leaped through sprinklers, while older ladies with hand fans lined the park benches.
A small group of young women congregated on the sidewalk, dressed as if they'd just stepped off the set of a 50's family show.
"It's like the land time forgot," Logan whispered.
"I know."
Two blocks later, George pulled into the parking lot for Rusty's Wrench.
Yes.
Rusty's Wrench.
George Tucker followed them inside and introduced them to Rusty.
After Veronica had the chance to quickly use the restroom, she explained what she'd found under the hood, and Rusty agreed to send a tow truck for the Explorer.
"So…how many hours do you think it'll take?" Logan asked.
Rusty met George's eyes and they both snorted in laughter.
"What?"
Rusty wiped his hands on a greasy rag that Veronica couldn't help but think of stealing and leaving on Celeste Kane's kitchen counter. "It's Homecoming weekend. It ain't getting fixed tonight."
Logan pushed. "What if we paid extra?"
"It's not about money, son," Rusty said. "It's about team spirit. Homecoming weekend is a national holiday in Bluebell."
Logan partially turned away, running his free hand through the front of his hair in frustration.
"Tell you what," Rusty said, holding up a hand. "I'll get up early tomorrow. I can probably have you back on the road by 11:00 AM."
"Thank you very much. We appreciate it," Duncan said, and Veronica mouthed a 'thanks' as well.
"So I guess we'll be needing a motel," Veronica said.
"You'll never be able to get a motel room today," George said.
"Let me take a wild guess," Logan said. "Homecoming weekend?"
"Guessed it in one." George said.
"So have any suggestions?" Duncan asked.
"I'll call over to the bed & breakfast. They should still have a few rooms available," George said, stepping away and pulling out his cell.
"Y'all be careful tonight," Rusty warned. "The heat wave makes people a little crazy around here."
"How so?" Duncan asked.
"Heat wave fever. Lowered inhibitions. More reckless accidents. Much more baby making." He nodded at Logan and Veronica.
Um...no! No baby making happening here, thank you very much.
"I don't understand the connection between weather and behavior," Duncan said.
"It is what it is," Rusty said. "Bluebell is virtually crime free 99% of the year - except for homecoming pranks, and heat wave recklessness. I don't envy Sheriff Pickett over the fact that they're falling on the same weekend this year."
"Doesn't he have backup?" Veronica asked, still not quite buying heat-influenced bad behavior.
"Only if you count one deputy as backup. We're a small, quiet town. Nothing ever happens around here."
The Whippoorwill Blossom Inn was a white, three-story Victorian structure with a huge wrap-around porch, a large second story balcony, and three roof gables.
Inside, they waited in a spacious formal living room with gleaming hardwood floors, lace drapes, and Chippendale furniture arranged on a red oriental carpet. The cloying smell of old-fashioned potpourri emanated from several scattered bowls. A radio nearby played a soft rock channel.
Luckily, the AC is fully functional here.
George and Duncan talked quietly on mauve damask loveseat.
Veronica stood by the window, flipping the pages of a small full-color Bluebell, Alabama brochure she'd snagged from a stack on the windowsill, while Logan looked over her shoulder. Page four was an advertisement for the very B&B they were currently standing in, showing three mugs of coffee with graduated degrees of whiteness.
Logan read the text aloud. "Your home away from home in Bluebell. Enjoy complimentary breakfast and over 200 books to read in the lobby."
Veronica glanced dubiously at the nearby paperback book spinner full of ancient Harlequin Romances.
Try more like 25.
"I have to read them in the lobby?" Logan asked. "Guess that rules out 'War and Peace'."
Veronica rolled her eyes. "As if you'd even have the attention span for a comic book."
"You wound me." Logan tugged the brochure out of her hand. "I'll have you know I've read Tolstoy."
"Oh yeah?" Veronica tried to tug the brochure back. "Like what?"
"Anna Karenina. Well… half of it."
Of course, he has. Why do I ever bother questioning him?
"Why would you read Anna Karenina?"
Logan's eyes dropped and he took on what Veronica had come to recognize as his embarrassed voice. "Because it was supposed to be about this great passionate love affair. I thought it would be...spicy."
She suppressed her urge to smirk. This was the same boy who'd cried last night watching The Notebook, after all. "So then why did you stop?"
"Because it was about a crappy mother. I already had one of those at home. Didn't need to read a 1000 page book about somebody else's."
"Lo—" Veronica stopped herself from finishing the name and lowered her voice. "Your mom is sweet."
"Sure she is." Logan nodded, but she could tell he only half meant it. "And hey, at least she hasn't abandoned me for a Russian Count. See? Anna even makes my mom look good."
"But not mine." Veronica said quietly.
"Crap," Logan said. "I wasn't thinking."
Veronica nodded.
Logan persisted, touching her arm. "Hey. I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry? You planning to abandon me for a Russian Count?" Veronica yanked the brochure away with a grin and turned her back to Logan.
"Depends on how cute he is." He smirked, reaching around her for the booklet.
Loud footsteps approached, and the proprietress spoke in a voice that seemed to bounce off the walls. "Hello, ya'll. Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Kitty Wallis, and I run this place. Which of you are the newlyweds?" She was in her fifties, of medium height with cropped salt and pepper hair. Her piercing blue eyes landed on Logan and Veronica, still playing tug of war with the brochure. "Oh never mind."
"Who us?" Veronica asked. "We're not newlyweds. Yet."
"Hmm, I must have marked you down wrong." Kitty double-checked the clipboard in her hand. "I have you in the Rosebud room"
"Rosebud?" Logan mouthed to Veronica, and she shrugged.
The manager turned to their companion. "Hello George, how's law school?"
"It's going well. Good to see you, Kitty. Let me introduce Declan Marshall, his sister, Victoria, and her fiancé, Nolan Ellis."
"Nice to meet you."
George said his goodbyes, while Kitty collected their room keys. "Follow me, and I'll show you to your rooms."
She guided them to a staircase. "Watch your feet. I have six cats running around here."
The three Neptunians exchanged glances.
Six?
Kitty led them to the second story. She stopped to open a door on the right, flicking the light switch. "This is the bathroom for the floor. Obviously, you'll want to knock before entering, and lock it when you're inside."
"Wait," Logan interrupted. "What do you mean 'the bathroom for the floor'? What about in our room?"
"This is a B&B, dear," Kitty said, turning the light back off and closing the door. "You share a bathroom with the other guests."
Veronica almost laughed at the horrified expression on Logan's face. She whispered in his ear, "You'll survive, princess."
"How many other guests are there?" Logan asked.
"On this floor? Only you three." The manager took a few more steps and stopped near a door to the left. She glanced down at her clipboard. "Declan? This is our Buttercup room." She unlocked the door, and handed the key to Duncan.
"Thanks. I'll catch you guys later," Duncan said, closing the door behind him. He held his mystery novel and his sketchbook, so Veronica had a feeling they wouldn't be seeing him for a while.
She continued down the hall, unlocking the next door on the left, and handing the key to Logan, before opening the double doors. "Welcome to our Rosebud room. I'll call in the morning before sending breakfast up. I suggest you stay in, but if you choose to go out, there's a great band - Bayou Circus - playing nearby tonight. Bluesy Rock."
"Why do you suggest we stay in?" Veronica asked.
"Heat wave."
"You too? You really think the heat affects people's behavior?"
Kitty shook her head, sadly. "Heat waves make us do stupid things we almost always regret. No reason you have to succumb. I suggest you stay in and let the moment pass."
"That's the plan," Logan said.
"I hope your stay here at the Whippoorwill is satisfactory."
Kitty left, and Logan and Veronica examined their room. A wrought iron bed with a champagne colored comforter dominated the space. Gold brocade curtains covered the windows, while the walls were painted a golden yellow.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Logan asked.
"You bet I am," Veronica said. "Naptime!"
"Actually, I was thinking about sex." Logan waggled his eyebrows. "But naps are nice."
He took a flying leap onto the bed lying diagonally, and tested each of the pillows until he found one he liked.
"God Logan, how much bed do you need?" Veronica asked, nudging him to make room for her.
"Like it matters." He hooked an arm around her and yanked her onto the bed and slightly underneath him. "You always end up in my arms anyway."
"What?" Veronica pushed against his chest halfheartedly. "We're not even bothering with a pretense anymore?"
"Why bother with pretense? I know what I like." He kissed the tip of her nose.
I'm starting to get an idea about what I like too, and that only goes to prove that I'm losing my mind.
"Move, so I can get under the covers," Veronica said, lifting up onto her knees.
Logan wiggled the covers down enough to slide underneath and tugged her back into his arms.
"It's not exactly cold out, Veronica."
"You're fully dressed. Thanks to somebody, I'm half naked."
"We'll just have to remedy that." Logan's hand on her hip moved to inch up her tank top, in a manner meant to be teasing, rather than serious. "You know what they say about heat waves. Lower inhibitions and all that."
"God, Logan!"
He laughed when she slapped his hand, and rolled onto his back, pulling the fedora down to cover his eyes. "Now quit babbling so I can take a nap." A grin spread across his face.
Veronica couldn't help but laugh as she snuggled against his side. He was warm and comfy, and smelled delicious.
She was struggling to maintain her objectivity when it came to Logan. Sure she had offered him forgiveness for the sake of being able to live together. It was the forgetting that was coming a little too easily. She needed to constantly remind herself that a week ago they were adversaries. And that he'd rejected her - not only after Lilly's death, but at every other opportunity as well.
But something primal inside her just kept saying: This. Good.
Especially in the last twenty-four hours. Had something changed between them in that mop closet? Was their embrace when he came to bed last night as intimate as it had felt?
Stay strong, Veronica. This is Logan.
She had almost dozed off when a knock sounded on the door.
"Get the door," she told Logan.
"I will for a kiss," he mumbled, without moving the hat from his face.
She lifted up on her elbow and kissed his cheek.
"Mouth. Tongue."
"Keep dreaming," Veronica said, sighing and climbing out of bed.
"That's what I thought," Logan said, and she realized he'd just manipulated her into getting out of bed.
"Ass."
He grinned. "What's that about my ass?"
A tall, very attractive blonde waited in the hallway. She wore an A-line floral printed dress with a paperweight cardigan, and looked Veronica up and down when she opened the door. "Well aren't you just the most adorable little thing," she said in a Scarlett O'Hara drawl.
"I like to think so," Veronica said. "How can I help you?"
"Lemon Breeland." The girl held out her hand and Veronica wasn't sure if she were supposed to shake it, or kiss her ring. Lemon? For real? "You met my boyfriend, earlier. George Tucker."
Ahhh. She thinks her boyfriend rescued a damsel in distress and she's here to scope out the threat level.
"Nice to meet you," Veronica said, going with a handshake. "George was very helpful. I'm Victoria Marshall. The bum on the bed is my fiancé, Nolan." She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb.
"Hey." Logan waved, without moving his hat.
Rude little jackass.
Down the hall, the door to the shared bathroom opened, and Duncan came out. He wandered over to see what was going on. "My brother, Declan," Veronica said.
"Nice to meet you," Duncan said.
Logan finally got out of bed to join Veronica at the door.
"So how can I help you?" Veronica repeated.
"George mentioned that you were trapped here for the night."
"That's true."
"Well then you just have to join us at the Rammer Jammer tonight. There's a great band playing."
"The Rammer Jammer?" Veronica repeated in amusement. "Thanks for the offer but…"
"Vickie and I were planning on a quiet night alone," Logan said, sliding his arms around her, leaning his chin on her shoulder.
"Nonsense," Lemon said dismissively. "You'll have the rest of your life to spend time alone. As the leader of The Belles, it's my job to ensure that you thoroughly enjoy your stay in Bluebell."
Or to make sure outsiders don't have designs upon your boyfriend?
"We really cant…"
Lemon persisted. "I insist on showing you a good time tonight."
"I wouldn't mind getting out," Duncan spoke up, surprising Veronica.
"Really?"
Duncan and George had hit it off earlier, but Veronica suspected his decision had more to do with Lilly's ghostly visitation and something about swearing more.
"We do have to eat, Sweetie," Logan said.
"Well the Rammer Jammer has the best burgers in all of Alabama."
Veronica hesitated. She could tell that behind the saccharine-sweet voice, Lemon Breeland had a core of steel. She was not used to taking no for an answer, and resisting any further might call more attention to them than just giving in.
Logan and Duncan were both still disguised. She checked the wall mirror to the right of the door. Her makeup had survived the almost-nap, and with the brown eyes and long hair, she was barely recognizable.
"I don't have anything to wear," Veronica said in a last-ditch attempt to get out of it. "I can't go out dressed like this."
Lemon eyed her clothing. "You're right. That won't do at all. We'll just have to head over to Collette's and find you something new, won't we?"
"I don't need anything new. I have clothes in the truck"
"Over at Rusty's? They're locked-up tight for the night. Now grab your pocket book and let's go."
Veronica shot Logan a beseeching glance, but he only grinned and handed her the green messenger bag. "Your pocket book, Sweetie," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and guiding her out the door. "Have fun shopping."
"We'll be back for you two," Lemon pointed at the boys before linking her arm through Veronica's and dragging her away. Veronica glared at Logan over her shoulder but he only laughed.
Logan – Day Seven – Bluebell Alabama – The Rammer Jammer
The walk from the Whippoorwill Blossom Inn to the Rammer Jammer took less than ten minutes. Despite the stifling heat, Logan didn't mind walking. Their route took them past such locations as the town square, Bluebell Community Church, The Dixie Stop, Fancie's Restaurant (Bluebell's #1 place for fine dining, he remembered from the brochure), and the Mane Street Beauty Salon (The bigger the hair, the closer to God) where a woman coiffed to resemble Scarlett O'Hara preened happily in a mirror. Main Street Americana at its finest.
Every so often, teenager-packed muscle cars flew past honking horns - already reveling for tomorrow's big game. Homecoming in Neptune had never been this…infectious. In fact, nobody ever even attended the games. Funny, these kids were probably his own age, but a decade behind in life experience.
"Do you think we could have been wholesome if we'd have grown up here?" Logan asked, idly.
"Duncan and I? Probably. You'd probably still be the town bad boy. Just...less bad," Veronica answered.
He wasn't sure if he should be hurt, but at the look on his face, Veronica reached for his hand. "Come on, Logan. Wholesome? You don't want to be wholesome."
"I don't?"
Duncan joined in. "No, you just want to get laid. As often as possible. By as many different girls as you can."
Is that what you believe? Logan asked Veronica with his eyes.
No? she answered with hers, but it seemed more a question than an answer.
His arm slid around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. "I could have been wholesome," he said.
"I kind of like you bad," Veronica answered, quietly enough for only Logan to hear. She wasn't looking at him, but her lips were curled up in a tiny smile.
As they approached the bar, Logan wasn't sure what to make of it. The brown-painted building was clean and decently maintained, but strands of bare bulbs lining the roofline gave the bar an undeserved ramshackle appearance, and in case you didn't know where you were, the large red neon sign spelling out Rammer Jammer in curved cursive letters would be your first clue.
Veronica kept sneaking glances at him as they walked.
Must be the fedora. She'd definitely been encouraging when he'd purchased it.
Not that he wasn't sneaking glances himself. He'd noticed Lemon Breeland and many of the women of Bluebell dressed like fifties housewives, but he had to admit the Grace Kelly style looked hot on Veronica. Her dress reminded him of something...
That white dress she wore to Shelly's party.
His gut twisted painfully at the memory. He usually tried not to think about that night, but sometimes little flashes of memory forced their way past his defenses. The way he'd felt when she'd arrived. Cold rage mixed with a grudging admiration. An intense desire to finish the job of 'breaking her'. For closure. So he could move on with his life.
Little had he known at the time, but Veronica would soon start fighting back - sneers and smack-downs, choppy hair, and boots. Closure would become the last thing he wanted.
Sometimes he remembered how ethereal she'd looked stretched out on that lounger. The way she'd tasted on his tongue. He'd done body shots off dozens of girls over the years, but nothing had ever felt as...depraved...as running his tongue across Veronica's skin. His enemy, who he still remembered loving.
He'd thought her degradation would feel like victory, so the utter lack of satisfaction in the moment felt like a punch to the gut. When Rams leaned over her to take a turn, Logan had felt an intense desire to beat-in his face. It wasn't supposed to be that way. He hated her. Possessiveness had no place here.
His own weakness infuriated him even more. So he waved over more guys. Laughed and cheered and dug his fingernails into his palms as he watched two more tongues lick the drunk girl in the chair. His girl. They pushed him forward for another turn, and he perched at the edge of her chair. And then she opened her eyes and looked into his, and...
Stop thinking about it, asshole. I'm not that person anymore. Neither is she.
Tonight's dress wasn't really that similar anyway. The cotton fabric and the A-line shape, maybe. It was strapless, a delicate embroidered pattern in black on a white background, and flared out slightly, with some kind of under-layer that peaked out an inch or two below the scalloped hem.
He usually liked her tough and edgy, but this feminine look was great as well. Hell, she could wear a garbage bag and he'd still want her.
But does she want me?
Time to find out.
As they stepped into the bar, - blessed air conditioning - Lemon Breeland lifted a hand to wave them over to an already packed table. Logan held Veronica back, allowing Duncan to go ahead.
"So hey…you remember our little bet?"
"Our little bet?" she tilted her head, playing dumb. Her exposed skin, gleaming from the humidity was sexy as hell.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. That night at the Moonglow, I bet you I could make you act like a jealous girlfriend."
"Oh. That bet. What brings this up?"
"Can you think of a better opportunity?" He said.
She tilted her head to the left, thinking. "What kind of stakes we talking here?"
Logan considered for a second and then grinned a little too widely. "A kiss. To collect any time I choose."
Veronica laughed. "So much for your over-confidence that I'm going to kiss you first."
First? You're slipping, Veronica.
He stepped forward into her personal space, running the side of his thumb over that spot on her neck. "Oh, you will. Count on it."
Veronica stared up at him, clearly shaken, and he had a moment's satisfaction. Then she recovered, smirked at him, and said, "Fine. It's not like I'm going to lose anyway."
"What are your terms?" Logan asked, although he was fairly confident he'd be winning this bet. She might have a poker face, but he had much more experience in pretending not to care.
She took a moment to think it over. "Another neck rub. No - a back rub. A good one. At least thirty minutes."
Logan nearly laughed out loud. "So let me make sure I heard this right. I either get to make out with you or put my hands all over you? Now I'm not sure whether I want to win or lose."
"Funny, Romeo. Way to try to make everything sexual."
"It's kind of what I do."
"So it's a bet?"
Logan shook the hand Veronica held out.
He was turning to join Duncan, who was having an animated conversation with George, when she stopped him again. "Wait."
He turned back. Veronica was rubbing the back of her neck and looking at her feet.
"Hey," she glanced up with large, nervous eyes and put her hand on his arm. "You're leaving with me, right?"
How does she go from smug to vulnerable in two seconds flat?
Logan took a turn playing dumb. "Well, I thought we'd stay for a while. Get some food and stuff."
She sighed in annoyance. "Just promise me you won't take off with some bimbo and leave me behind, okay?"
"Wow, we haven't even started, and you're already getting jealous?" he said.
You still don't get it Ronnie, do you? All I want is you.
"No. It's just…" For a fraction of a second, something almost like fear crossed her eyes. "I wouldn't mind having a little fun myself tonight. Maybe have a few drinks."
"Okay…?"
"It's just…" she looked away, exhaled, and then looked back up at him. "I don't drink very often, and drinking around strangers still makes me a little nervous."
Is she thinking about that night? Does she think I would let somebody do body shots off her in this bar? I'd kill anybody who tried to hurt her.
Like I did.
"You deserve to have fun, V."
"But you'll keep an eye on me, right? We can split up and mingle, but no matter who you flirt with, and no matter who I flirt with, we leave together, okay?"
He could tell this was important to her. "Absolutely. It's a deal."
"Thanks."
"One more thing," Logan said. "Bet ends when we leave."
"Obviously."
"No, I mean anything I do tonight to bring out your jealous side doesn't get held against me later. No hard feelings."
"Why would there be hard feelings?"
Logan grinned and touched his forehead to hers. "Because you're crazy about me."
Veronica laughed. "One of us is crazy, but it's not me."
"De-ni-al." He pulled back and glanced over at the table. Duncan was in the midst of an animated conversation -or at least animated for him - with George. "Now come on, I'm thirsty."
"You sure nobody's going to recognize me?" Veronica asked.
"Nobody's going to recognize you. Between the hair, and the makeup and the eyes, you don't look like you."
She smiled at him then, and he wanted to call the whole bet off and spend the entire night at her side. But he couldn't do that. Not only had they shaken, not only was the bet a win/win for him, but he needed some kind of sign, because she sure as hell wasn't going to admit anything.
Was it already getting hot in here?
Veronica
The interior of the bar was larger than it looked. Another neon Rammer Jammer sign hung on an exposed brick wall along with a stuffed shark and multiple posters of a pig gritting his teeth announcing CLJ Jones High School Homecoming Week. Large-bulb Christmas lights hung everywhere.
Veronica trailed Logan to the table where Duncan sat chatting with George, Lemon, and a handful of big haired beauties.
Damn. Too many blondes. Logan will be in heaven.
Luckily, Lemon - who was more likely to be Logan's type than the others - blonde and dominant - was off the market.
He was looking entirely too good, in his jeans and snug long sleeved black tee shirt. She'd always liked him best in black. And then there was the hat. Not that he didn't look good in the usual baseball caps he'd taken to wearing every day, but the fedora… It wasn't so much the hat as the fact that he wore it so well. The boy didn't have a self-conscious bone in his body.
She wanted to drink tonight. She felt safe in this town. From what she'd gathered from Lemon, watching TV was not a common pursuit in Bluebell. People got out into the community here - between celebrations, contests and charity work - the locals kept busy.
She trusted Logan to keep his word, and for once, she didn't want to be responsible. She wanted to be seventeen, doing something illicit. She wanted the weight on her chest to lighten. She wanted an escape from the constant...tension...between herself and Logan.
Lemon and company had several tables pushed together near the stage where the band was setting up equipment. She stood as they approached, waving at her girlfriends to move down and make room. Veronica took the chair to Lemon's left, and Logan sat to Veronica's left at the head of the table.
She hated to admit it, but shopping with Lemon earlier had not been unbearable. After she'd ascertained that Veronica had no designs whatsoever upon George Tucker, Lemon had thawed considerably, keeping up a steady stream of chatter about the town and her charity work.
Beneath all of Lemon's false gaiety and Type-A behavior, Veronica sensed both strength and vulnerability. And luckily, she wasn't one to linger. Within two minutes of stepping into Colette's, Lemon had her in a fitting room with three dresses to choose from (all flattering for her body type), and appropriate strapless lingerie. She'd wanted to balk at being 'handled' that way, but had found it strangely comforting. Lemon Breeland was about as different from Lilly Kane possible, but they both shared a certain way of being formidable.
"I've already introduced Declan to everybody," Lemon said, motioning for attention. "Everyone, this is Victoria who I told you about earlier, and…"
"Nolan," Veronica supplied.
"Nolan," Lemon repeated. "You've met George already. This is my closest girlfriend, Anna Beth." She motioned to a pretty girl with rich auburn hair.
"Nice to meet you," Anna Beth said with a genuine smile.
"My dear friend, Cricket." Lemon pointed to a longhaired blonde.
"Pleasure," Cricket said.
"And my cousin, Betty." Lemon motioned to the final blonde at the table.
Betty gave a little wave. "Hi."
Lemon reached for a nearby pitcher containing a pale green frosty liquid and topped off her own glass before filling two glasses and sliding them to Veronica and Logan.
Veronica took a tentative sip.
"Yummy!"
"Margarita. Wade's special recipe." Lemon started to point, but found the chair empty. "Where'd Wade disappear to this time?"
"Mr. Maynard needed his help lifting something in the back," Cricket said.
"Oh, well then you'll just have to meet him later," Lemon said. "Although...you won't be missing anything if you don't. He's a real pain in the backside."
"How so?"
"He's an uncultured, unmannered lout who thinks he's God's gift to women."
"Ahh...I know the type," Veronica nodded towards her 'fiancé'.
Lemon examined Logan thoughtfully. "I can see it," she said finally. "There's a certain...arrogance there."
"My only competition for his heart was his mirror."
Logan overheard that, and made kissy lips at her.
The air conditioning that had felt so wonderful when they'd first entered the bar felt almost nonexistent now. The ceiling fan directly above their heads barely made a dent in the heat.
But her margarita did.
Absolutely delicious.
The consensus at the table seemed to be that the Rammer Jammer had the best burgers in the state, so when their waitress - an adorable Asian girl name Shelly with a scarf tied around her head al 'a vintage Madonna arrived, Veronica and both boys took the advice and ordered burgers and fries.
She glanced around the table. Duncan appeared to be deep in conversation with George and Anna Beth. Logan was chatting up the two blondes. Of course. Lemon was searching for something in her purse. Pocket book, she corrected herself.
She scanned the rest of the bar. The band was still setting up, but most of the tables were already filled. The clientele seemed to range from barely legal to retirees.
A tall guy emerging from a hallway at the back of the bar caught Veronica's attention. Blondish hair, tight jeans, a set of dimples to die for. She watched in shock as he whipped off his tee shirt and used it to dab at his forehead. He had the kind of abs that made her want to do laundry - the old-fashioned way. Gorgeous. And he knew it.
Oh yes. He will do nicely.
"Who's Mr. I'm-Too-Sexy-For-My-Shirt over there?" she asked Lemon in an low voice.
"Where?" She followed Veronica's sight line and then rolled her eyes. "That would be Wade Kinsella. George's best friend. You do have a type, don't you?"
Well, assuming Logan and I were actually a couple, I could see where you might assume that.
"I'm still stuck on the fact that he took his shirt off in a bar," Veronica said.
"That's just Wade. His shirts have a tendency of just falling off." She made a little poof gesture with both hands.
The guy in question redressed, hiding the eye candy.
Who am I kidding? He's eye candy from head to toe.
"Is he single?"
Lemon's eyes narrowed. "I thought you and Nolan were engaged. You aren't like...swingers or something, are you?" Her opinion on that was obvious by the distaste on her face.
Veronica snorted. "Nothing of the kind. Nolan and I are happy. Our relationship is solid. Except for one thing. Neither of us can agree which is the jealous one."
"And you think if you flirt with Wade he'll be jealous?"
"He literally made a bet with me that I'm the jealous one. I don't intend to lose that bet. I have a thirty minute massage riding on whether I can bring out his jealous side."
Lemon's glare turned into a twinkle. "Well…" she drew out the word as if she had something delicious to share. "If anybody can help you in a jealousy bet, it's Wade Kinsella. Ask me who he went to prom with."
"Um…who did he go to prom with?" Veronica wasn't sure why she should care.
"Nobody. Ask me who he left with."
Sure, I'll play along. "Who'd he leave with?"
Lemon lowered her voice as if spilling something scandalous. "Three other guys' dates."
"Oh yeah, he will do nicely," Veronica said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
"You be careful, hear?" Lemon warned with a hand on Veronica's arm. "It's a heat wave."
"And everyone goes crazy?" Veronica rolled her eyes.
"Heat Wave Fever is an actual phenomenon," Lemon said. "As a matter of fact, my daddy is the town doctor, and his office is just overflowing today with people who got a little too reckless. Look around." Lemon flicked her hand towards a group of a dozen or so scantily dressed women on the far side of the bar. "People in this town treat the heat wave like a free pass to do things they normally wouldn't do in a million years. You had better keep an eye on your man."
"I trust Nolan not to take it beyond flirting," Veronica said.
But do I really? He's not really mine. He's under no obligation to keep it to just flirting.
"This jealousy bet could end up backfiring," Lemon said, with a warning shake of the head.
Duncan:
Alright, Lilly. I'm out. I'm having a drink. I even ordered a cheeseburger. Hope this qualifies as 'living a little'
Alabama felt like a completely different country than California. Southern Belles, a reverence for history, football and apple pie.
Heat waves that make people crazy?
He admired the gentility, but feared crossing invisible boundaries. You had to be born here to understand the social conventions.
He understood that the girls at their table were all legacy members of 'The Belles', an elite society chosen to keep Bluebell's history alive. Mostly, it seemed, they did charity work and liked to dress up in Civil War era costumes.
They all seemed a bit high-strung, but he liked Anna Beth. She had a warmth to her Duncan found appealing, and with her auburn hair, stood out in the sea of blondes, with the sort of beauty found in old Hollywood movies.
Across the table, Veronica and Lemon were speaking in hushed tones. Logan was flirting with the two other blonde Belles, Cricket and Betty. Duncan wondered which one he'd end up going home with.
Who am I kidding? It's Logan Echolls. He'll probably go home with both of them.
"So Declan is an interesting name," Anna Beth said in a drawl.
"Oh, um...thank you. I was named after my father. Uh...Declan Marshall the first."
"What do your parents do, Declan Marshall the second?"
Oh, you know, normal stuff. Inventing streaming video. Charity work.
Lilly, what should I say?
"Um...they're divorced. I live with my dad, who's a...plastic surgeon."
Why did I say that of all things?
"Has he ever worked on you?"
"No, not me. But Nolan..." he pointed at Logan. "That's not his real nose."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. You ever see Adrian Brody? Imagine that nose."
"Your father must be very good at his job."
"Oh, he's a regular pioneer in his field."
Anna Beth leaned forward to speak to Logan around Cricket and Betty to her right. "Your nose looks very nice."
And this is what I get for trying to be funny.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Um...thanks?"
"Was it very painful?" Anna Beth asked. "The rhinoplasty? My cousin Matilda has been considering...work."
"The rhinoplasty?" Logan asked, eyes boring into Duncan.
"Ohhh." Anna Beth covered her mouth. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"
Oops. Duncan tried to look contrite. "She was asking if my dad had performed any plastic surgery on me. And I accidentally let slip about your nose job."
"Right," Logan said, dryly. "My nose job."
Veronica let out a loud cackle, and Logan turned to her. "I don't know what you're laughing about. I'm pretty sure you paid for that A Cup."
"I did not!"
"Sure you didn't."
Duncan laughed at the flinch on Logan's face. Veronica must have stomped on his foot, or pinched him really hard.
His laugh broke off when they both turned their glares back on him.
"To answer your question," Logan said. "I didn't feel anything due to the anesthesia. And then the pain meds helped for the first day or two before Declan over there stole the rest of my pills."
"Oh yeah," Veronica joined in. "That was back before he went to rehab, wasn't it."
"Ha ha!" Duncan said. "Real funny." He turned back to Anna Beth. "Don't listen to them. They're just messing with me."
"Of course they are, hon," Anna Beth drawled. "I can tell teasing when I see it. So are you in school, Declan?"
Should have thought more about my cover story. There has to be more to me than being Victoria's little brother… And Veronica's…What am I, 21?
"Yes, I am, actually. I go to a small liberal arts school in Seattle called…um…Vandergraff College."
Sounds legit, right?
"I've never heard of it. What do you study?"
"Art. Mostly drawing and painting."
Anna Beth's eyes widened in interest. "Well isn't that delightful? Are you good?"
"I like to think so," he answered.
"I wish I could see your work. Do you have any with you?"
"No, it's all back home. Except for my sketchpad at the B&B."
"How about you?" Duncan asked. "You in school?"
"Business major. University of Alabama. Go Tide!"
"What do you do for fun?"
"Oh who has time for fun?" she slapped him on the arm, playfully. "The annual debutante balls need to be planned, my charity work with Homeless Hunting Hounds of the Hurricane Coast, and of course, being a Belle takes up most of my time. Bake sales, car washes, estate sales, turtle races."
"I can relate," Duncan said. "I overachieved in high school. Soccer, student council, editor of the school newspaper."
"Oh! I write too. I write Anna Beth's Blog on the official Bluebell website."
"I'll have to check it out sometime," Duncan said.
"You're just saying that." She grinned and touched him on the arm again.
"No! I really will." He protested.
They were interrupted by the arrival of their food. Duncan eyed his plate dubiously. He hadn't had a burger and fries since…at least since before Lilly's death.
When he took his first bite, juices dripped down his chin, and he thought he might have died and gone to heaven.
I don't remember food ever tasting this amazing.
Logan
The barbecue bacon burger was the best Logan ever tasted. If he ever decided to become a food critic - not likely - he'd send people here. He finished off his margarita and wiped this mouth on a napkin. He'd have to switch to beer soon. Resting his chin on his palm, he leaned forward, and angled his body towards the two blondes to his left. Any outside observer might believe him to be fascinated by their conversation, but to be honest, he could not be less interested. Betty seemed nice enough, but Cricket made Caitlin Ford look like a genius.
The blondes to his right were much more interesting. Veronica and Lemon had their heads together, whispering like two conspirators. He shuddered to think what these two might be capable of were they to stay in Bluebell more than just the one night. He would have to throw some extra money at Rusty tomorrow to be sure they made it out of this town as soon as possible.
"Hey! Golden Boy!" a voice called from off to his left, and both Duncan and George turned around simultaneously.
Relax, DK. Nobody knows you here. Although it's probably obvious at a glance that you're a Golden Boy.
The corners of Logan's lips curled up in a cruel smirk at the sight of the tall blond guy approaching with a slow swagger – obviously meant for effect. He carried a margarita pitcher in each hand, and most eyes turned to follow him as he passed, one woman dramatically fanning at herself.
We get it, dude. You've got game.
He turned to give Veronica a ' get-a-load-of-this-guy' look, but her attention was already riveted. In fact, she was nearly drooling.
Oh come on, Ronnie. The way you read people? You should know better.
"I had a feeling we'd be needing refills by now," the man said, setting the pitchers down on the table. Lemon reached for one immediately, refilling Veronica's glass and her own.
Is this number three for Ronnie already?
The Walking STD stopped to say something to George that Logan wasn't close enough to hear, and then turned his attention to the strangers.
Logan nearly groaned. He saw it all in an instant. The guy's immediate interest in Veronica. And why not? She's gorgeous and won't expect him to call her in the morning. The way he'd been dismissed as a threat due to his feigned interest in the blondes to his left. The slight narrowing of the eyes as if the guy had decided on his night's mission.
"And who do we have here?" The hayseed flashed Veronica a mega-watt smile and reached a hand across the table to shake. "Wade. Wade Kinsella."
Wide?
While George Tucker's accent had a cultured tone, Wade's was a sharp twang that made Logan's teeth grate.
Straight from the trailer park, huh?
Veronica smiled back and shook the offered hand. "Victoria Marshall. My brother, Declan." She gestured. "And my…cousin…Nolan."
Cousin?
"Hey," Wade gave a small wave, no more interested in shaking hands than Logan was.
Logan felt a small measure of satisfaction when he felt Veronica's hand reaching for his under the table, but it evaporated when she deposited his mom's engagement ring in his palm and folded his fingers around it.
Really?
Really?
Tucking the ring in his jeans pocket, he leaned close to Veronica, keeping his eyes on Wade as he pushed back a strand of her hair, and whispered. "Game on…cousin."
He smirked when she shivered. She always shivered when he whispered in her ear. It might have something to do with the way he purposefully breathed the words.
Wade, not sensing the tension - or perhaps just ignoring it - snagged a chair from an adjacent table, placing it at the corner between Veronica and Logan, and straddling it.
Don't they teach you how to sit in a chair down in the holler?
How am I supposed to get rid of this yahoo?
"So darlin', where you from?" Wade asked. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the back of the chair and leaning on them with his chin.
Classic 'aren't-I-cute-and-harmless?' maneuver. She's not stupid.
"Some place where strangers don't presume to call me darlin'," she answered, softening her words with a smile.
Wade's eyes lit up and he grinned.
Of course, he takes that as a personal challenge. I would.
Take your $5 drugstore cologne and your $10 haircut and get the hell away from my girlfr—
Wade snuck a French fry from Veronica's plate with an impudent grin.
Now you're in trouble buddy. Nobody comes between Veronica and her food.
He waited for the consequences, but Veronica only laughed at his behavior.
What the hell, V? You're supposed to stab him in the hand with your fork.
He didn't realize he was following along in his head to the song on the jukebox until it turned off abruptly. At the front of the room, an amp squealed from being powered on.
Logan turned his head towards the noise as a woman stepped up to the mic to introduce the band as Hoodoo Circus.
In her late twenties, she stood about average height with broad shoulders and no discernible waist. Her light brown hair flowed out from her head chaotically in thick springy curls to her shoulders. Technically, this woman would never be called beautiful - or even pretty - but there was a certain charisma about her. As if in her mind, she was actually the most beautiful woman in the room.
There was something about her he recognized, but couldn't quite put his finger on.
Interesting.
The singer's eyes fell upon Logan and held. She raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Very interesting.
Logan glanced at Veronica, who was now ignoring Wade and studying the singer with narrowed eyes.
Game fucking on, cousin.
A/N Veronica's dress (top left) mysilverylining dot tumblr dot com/post/49716992018/1950s-vintage-cocktail-dresse s
A/N2 For those of you who realized that chapter was a crossover, congratulations, you have great taste in TV. For those who didn't, Lemon Breeland, George Tucker, Wade Kinsella, AnnaBeth, and Cricket are characters on Hart of Dixie. Two more (Tansy and Lavon) will be introduced in the next chapter. I didn't spoil anything. This takes place seven years before HOD canon. When I first mapped out the route from San Diego to Miami and saw how they'd be driving right through Mobile, Alabama, I became excited at the prospect of dropping our three cynical, noir characters into the most wholesome fictional town on TV. Unlike Dallas, this is only a one-night stopover. The last stop before they reach their destination in Florida.
A/N3 As always, massive appreciation for ShanghaiLily for beta-ing, and a million other things.
A/N4 I mentioned at the end of Neptune chapter, but will mention here as well - I will try to publish a WIP status update at least once a week on my Tumblr (see my profile for a link). Check SilverFic link in right sidebar.