Chapter 5: Room Service

Veronica avoids the sight of Logan’s smirking mouth by refilling her shot glass. Half full, this time. Her throat burns a bit from the first shot, and she hopes that she does not lose this game. The different ways in which she could ‘lose’ make her head hurt. She could blurt out things that Logan could turn into additional fuel against her. She could pass out. She could do any of a list of things she doesn’t really want to contemplate.

“Well?”

“Yes, it is your turn.” Her voice is a bit more snappish than she intended and he knows he got to her a little. Showing weakness in front of Logan is like bleeding in a shark tank. Bad idea to whet the appetite. He circles her slowly.

“Aw, Veronica. Sore loser? I would have thought all the practice would have honed your skills to a razor’s edge.”

“And I would have thought you would have tired of the sound of your own voice by now. Clearly we were both mistaken.” Veronica lifts one eyebrow, challenge written there.

Logan starts to say something else, but hesitates. Veronica can’t think he is feeling guilty, as he has said much worse to her. The only explanation is that he does actually want to play the game.

Just then, there is a knock at the door. Both of their heads whip towards the sound, confused. After a few seconds, a voice comes through the door.

“Room service.” Veronica frowns, partly ticked off she didn’t get to work up a really good comeback to Logan’s slam on her purity. As Logan bounces up from the couch, Veronica pops up to follow him.

“Logan! Wait...” She trails behind him, wondering just how much longer his legs are than hers. “Damn it. Slow down.” Veronica reaches for his arm, small fingers closing on firm, tanned muscle. The sudden contact startles them both into stopping. Logan glances at his arm where her hand rests and then down at her.

“God, Veronica. I thought you weren’t even hungry.”

She shakes her head in exasperation. “I’ll get the door.” Veronica holds up one finger. “Ah! Not one word about the woman’s place or me being the ‘help’ or any of that. I’m trying to help your ass out, so do yourself a favor and let me.” Logan’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “You were recognized downstairs. Think it’s a good idea to answer the door shirtless with your hand bandaged like you’ve been in a bar fight?”

“You just can’t stop thinking about me sans shirt, can you, Veronica Mars?” Before she can smack him down, another knock at the door interrupts them.

“Room service?”

“Just go back over there.” Veronica glares at him and lets her hand fall from his arm. Logan snaps his heels together and salutes her before turning back towards the couch. “Wait. Give me a tip.”

“Sure. You know those plaid pants you have? Out. If they were ever in.” Logan shakes his head in disapproval before Veronica interrupts him.

“Ha. Ha. Give me tip money for the room service guy. Now.” Logan slides his hand into his pocket and slaps a random bill into her hand without even checking. Veronica sees it is a twenty and shakes her head. Rich boys and their money are so easily parted.

“Am I excused again?”

“GO!” Veronica makes a little dash for the door and slings it open to find a fist in mid-air, preparing to knock again. The slightly annoyed expression on the waiter slides away quickly and his professional mask returns.

“Good evening, ma’am.” Veronica hears Logan snort at the word ma’am. The young man looks down at his bill. “I have a room service order for Mr. Echolls?” Veronica smiles at him in her most disarming fashion.

“Right here, please.” She points to a spot just inside the door, glancing toward the couch. Veronica is relieved to see the back of Logan’s head. For once, he listens to me. It’s a miracle.

The waiter pushes in a cart laden with covered trays and bottles of juice and soda. He pauses just inside the door, eyes darting over to the figure on the couch. Veronica steps between him and Logan with the same smile. She presses the twenty into his hand and opens the door a bit wider. He smiles and thanks her, turning to leave.

“Sugarlips, is that my dinner? I’m fucking starving. Bring it and your cute little ass back over here, would you?” Veronica’s eyes widen as the waiter tries not to react to Logan’s words. She swears he is smiling as she quickly ushers him from the room and closes the door. I’m going to kill him. Slowly.

Veronica leaves her hand on the door, facing it. Her shoulders shake slightly. I’m still going to kill him. And it wasn’t funny. Not in the least. Veronica bites her lip. Not. Funny.

When she finally turns, Logan is standing up, hands on hips. “I won’t think less of you if you laugh, Veronica. I mean, I already...” Logan stops, somehow unable to proclaim how little he thinks of Veronica Mars right now. His stomach tightens and it has nothing to do with his hunger. He just realizes he doesn’t want to lie to her.

Veronica frowns the tiniest bit at his unfinished insult. “I’ll be sure to laugh if you say something that’s actually funny.” She turns to the cart, lifting the trays to find her sandwich. Taking the plate and a bottle of cranberry juice, she comes toward the couch. “So, you didn’t think that was a bad idea, huh?”

“Oh, please, Veronica. I’ve been tabloid fodder since the day my parents brought me home from the hospital as a baby and it turned into a photo shoot. At least I gave that guy something funny to tell his buds.”

“I told you, it wasn’t funny.” I still can’t believe he referred to my ass as cute. Since when is Logan rating the cuteness of my ass?

“It was and you know it. I saw you trying not to laugh.” Veronica arrives at the couch to face the again smirking Logan.

“Just get your damn dinner.” She pushes past him to her place on the couch, pushing her smile back down, head shaking. “Sugarlips.” The last word is muttered, but Logan still snorts a little as he heads to the room service cart. Damn, he has good hearing.

A minute later, the couch shifts as Logan flops back on it with his sandwich and a Coke. “Guess you were hungry after all, huh?” Before Veronica can answer with her mouth full, Logan continues. “So, I believe it was my turn before we were interrupted?”

Veronica looks up from a bite into her sandwich and nods.

“Fine. I scored a 63 on the purity test.”

Veronica chokes on her sandwich until Logan has to smack her on the back. After a swig of cranberry juice, she snorts in disbelief. “Bullshit. You scored a 57.” She cocks her head to the side. “So, do you prefer the term man-slut or man-whore? I’m a stickler for these kinds of things.” Veronica smiles sunnily at Logan as he glares at her and reaches for the shot in front of him. He takes it, eyes never leaving hers and with barely any reaction beyond a tightening of his lips afterwards.

“I bow to your greater expertise in the finer distinctions between slut and whore, Mars.” He gestures to her with a flourish of his hand and a bow of his head. As has been the case most of tonight, the full bite is missing from his words.

“Ouch. Now your sore loser is showing, Mr. Echolls.” She winks at him as she splashes more Jack Daniels into his glass and sits back to think.

He blurts it out before he can stop himself. “Do I even want to know how you knew that?”

“Doubtful. I know people, Logan. People who know things. But let’s not get too far off point here.” Veronica glances at Logan from the corner of her eye. The ground he’s on tonight is not exactly holding steady, so she’s got to be careful. Not provoke him quite as much as normal to prevent some kind of breakdown. Again. But at the same time, never let him see her go easy on him. He hates pity nearly as much as weakness.

“Not getting any younger over here, Veronica.”

“Patience is a virtue, Logan.”

“And when have you known me to be virtuous?” And the smirk returns.

“Touché. Okay, try this one on for size: I went skinny-dipping on Homecoming night.” In a rush, Veronica’s memory is flooded with the previous Homecoming. She wants to kick her subconscious mind squarely in the ass for bringing up that particular past with this particular boy. Despite the memories filling her mind’s eye, she strives for a blank expression as she feels Logan’s scrutiny.

She turns to face him, and can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He knows, if he remembers, that she had never been skinny-dipping as of last Homecoming. His awareness of her activities this Homecoming would rest on the loose lips of a certain Troy Vandegraff. She knows Georgia and Wallace didn’t tell. She threatened Troy with the ruining of his life if he told. Not long after Homecoming, she made good on that promise, but it had an awful lot more to do with steroids than it did with impromptu nakedness.

Besides, if Logan knew, there’s no way he would have kept it to himself all this time. Too many choice jokes in there.

“Troy never mentioned skinny-dipping on the slate of Homecoming activities...” Veronica smiles and cocks her head at him. “Fine, I know. No hints, no extra questions.”

Veronica happily eats more of her sandwich and takes a demure sip of her cranberry juice while she waits. Logan studies her. She may be a lot different than the Veronica of the Homecoming they spent together, but he’s still not sure she’d do it. And trying to imagine her dropping her clothes to jump in the ocean is not helping him think it out.

“Bullshit. I’ll go with Bullshit.”

“Then, I suggest you eat up, mister. You’re not going to want to drink so much on an empty stomach.” Veronica leans over and nudges the full shot glass closer to him.

“Why, Veronica Mars. I’m scandalized.” Logan puts his hand up to his mouth in pretend shock.

“No, you’re not.”

“Impressed, then.”

“Oh, you flatter me. Now, drink.”

“Is there any proof?”

“Do I need any?”

“No, I’ll drink. I’m just wondering.”

“Three witnesses. Four if the limo driver peeked.” It’s Veronica’s turn to smirk as Logan eyebrows shoot up. He nods at her with a little smile and takes his shot. He refills it and sets it back down.

“Okaaaay...try this. I’m allergic to shellfish.” Logan sits back, satisfied smile on his face.

Veronica waits all of two beats to answer. “True. Good thing you’re not allergic to Jack Daniels. ‘Cause he’s looking like your new best friend.” She gestures at the shot glass in front of him.

Logan sits up. “Confident, aren’t you? I didn’t even tell you if you guessed right.”

“I didn’t guess and I know I’m right, Logan. So, carry on.” Logan reaches for the glass, frowning at her in consternation. “Fine. You ate a shrimp off the buffet at one of your parents’ parties when you were 8 and nearly died. Trip to the hospital and everything. Last time I checked, that meant a person was allergic to shellfish. Either that or pretentious Hollywood parties. I’m going with the shrimp.”

Logan’s mouth falls open as he looks at Veronica. “How the fuck do you know that story?”

Veronica ducks her eyes, fingers tugging at the crust on her sandwich. Her knowledge of his near-death experience is starting to embarrass her. “You told me, Logan. Back when we were...” Veronica swallows the word friends and shifts gears. “...about 14. We were at the Kanes waiting - as usual - for Lilly to be ready to go to the movies. And...do you remember this?” Veronica really wants to stop talking. There is something truly uncomfortable about reminiscing with Logan right now. Like she shouldn’t know such things about him. Things friends know.

“Veronica, we waited for Lilly to get ready to go everywhere. You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

“Oh, right. We were all in the kitchen and the caterers came in to deliver trays for a party the Kanes were throwing. There was this big shrimp tray. Duncan and I tried to snag a few before Celeste caught us. And...and you told the story, then.” Veronica trails off, trying to ignore Logan’s look of amazement.

“Well, fuck me.” That had better be a figure of speech and not a request. Logan takes the shot and pops the lid off another few tiny bottles of J.D. “Can’t believe you remember that.” Veronica’s eyes snap towards his. The tone of his voice is not biting or sarcastic. It’s a little surprised. A little bit...touched.

Veronica takes charge of the moment to get them back on track. Towards where, she has no idea. But the return of snark would be good now. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you suck at this game, Logan. You’re going to be wasted in no time.”

“Trying to get me drunk and take advantage, Veronica? You already got me half-naked.” Ah, there we are. Innuendo, my old friend.

“You know what they say, Logan. I like to win. Anything worth doing is worth doing well.” She takes a swig of cranberry juice.

Logan answers in his most fake offended voice. “Oh, now I’m a thing, am I?” Veronica spits a mouthful of juice across the table and looks at him, mouth agape as she figures out his meaning. Logan laughs, pointing at her face. Looks like he is half-drunk now, too. And still funny. I mean, not funny.

She looks at him laughing for a full five seconds before her mouth starts to tug upward in the corners. And finally, Veronica lets herself laugh along with him. Okay. It was a little bit funny.



On to Chapter 6: Tell Me No Lies