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Weevil has come to enjoy his semi regular espresso at Amanti del Caffè. For a guy whose coffee typically came from a chipped mug with the word ‘instant’ attached, he’s up’ed his coffee game significantly in a few short months.
Hell, some days when it’s hot, he even gets exotic and orders himself one of those fancy Venti Mocha Frappachinos things. It doesn’t hurt that the cute waitress Michelle always serves that to him with a conspiratorial wink, like his less than manly coffee secret is safe with her.
Weevils comfortable here now. A far cry from the early days where he’d slink in and slump down in one of the corner booths, waiting nervously for Opie or V to show up, trying to ignore the sideways looks he used to garner from the upper middle class mommies.
It took ‘em a while but the expensive activewear dressed regulars have become accustomed to seeing a brown guy in their modern Italian styled enclave, he thinks with a wry smile. It’s only the casual patrons he still induces the startled eye widening and subtle tightening of manicured fingers on purse straps in, but who cares what those stuck up bitches think anyway? Weevil shrugs derisively, reminding himself that his money is the same color as theirs.
That said, he’s got that tingly feeling that tells him he’s being observed.
*-------*
Van Clemons is a contented man who doesn’t ask for much.
All he needs to be happy is a well ordered Neptune High, floating calmly on the ocean of scholastic achievement, and a decent cup of coffee where he’s unlikely to have to interact with any of his current or former Pirate charges during his precious time off.
That’s why he chooses this particular venue to bestow his patronage over Java The Hut – there’s no angsty teens lurking in corners, overthinking whatever it is that teens angstily overthink these days.
Plus, the usual clientele of Amanti del Caffè are the type of unconcerned, disconnected, parents who’re unlikely to interrupt their coffee to accost a harried Principal about their little darlings academic progress, or lack thereof.
That’s why the scene in the plush corner booth bemuses him.
Looking oddly comfortable, a tiny espresso cup held daintily in between thick, calloused fingers, one Eli ‘Weevil’ Navarro is an incongruous sight in this mostly upper middle class yoga mommy establishment.
Of course, Eli is entitled to sip his caffeinated beverage of choice wherever he chooses, thinks Clemmons, but it’s not just his former charge’s leather jacket that looks out of place in this coffee culture environment.
Nor is it the wafer thin biscotti, artfully arranged on the plate in front of the biker.
No, it’s the tiny, pale, blonde baby, over who’s head the former gang leader is taking delicate, careful sips, that has Clemmons full attention.
Regardless of the air of disconnected professionalism he’d worked hard to cultivate, Van was at heart, a dedicated educator who genuinely cared for all of his students, regardless of their families ability to donate expensive equipment to his school.
And Eli was one of the charges he’d had a soft spot for. Well, right up to the moment his untimely arrest interrupted his senior year graduation ceremony, the principal thinks objectively.
He’d lost track of Eli after that, which isn’t surprising in the turbulence that followed that memorable grad night. Clemons had been consumed in the aftermath. Between dealing with investigators, caring for his traumatized staff and trying to keep reporters off school property, it had been weeks of chaos until the next big news story broke.
By then though, as is the lot of a Principal, he had a brand new set of Seniors to deal with, leaving the previous students to drift into school legend, only to be seen again in ten years when he’ll be required to front up and see what’s become of them all over legally spiked punch and a cold buffet that is de rigueue at reunions.
Mind you, Clemmons thinks with a wry head shake, the cohort that Eli ran through high school with certainly made up one of the most colorful groups ever to grace the halls of any school!
Neptune High hadn’t been the same since their departure, and thank god for that, he thinks quietly.
A nodded acknowledgement from his former student tells the Principal that he’s been spotted.
Pasting the smile reserved for past students on his face, Van Clemmons makes his way over to the corner booth, Eli rising to greet him, the baby, who is strapped into a fancy looking carrier on the man’s stocky chest, coming along for the ride.
“Eli.” Clemmons says cordially by way of conversational opening.
“Principal Clemmons.” Is the bikers polite response to the man who he’d had so many disciplinary chats with over his high school years.
Weevil kind of liked Clemmons. At least the guy had always tried to be fair, even if he was often overruled by that asshole who’d been in charge before him.
“And who do we have here?” Clemmons smiles genially at the infant who gazes at him with alert, inquisitive brown eyes.
“This little princessa,” Weevils says, tickling tiny blondes cheek affectionately, “is Rosie, apple of our eye.”
“We just waitin’ on daddy to come and join us for the rest of family day aren’t we sweetie?” Weevil coos, before explaining to a slightly stunned Clemmons. “He should be here any moment - had a few things to take care of at home this morning.” Weevil clarifies.
Well, good on Eli, thinks the older man, surprised at Eli’s apparent revelation, but pleased that his former student has found happiness with someone, and isn’t concerned about hiding his relationship. Nor should he in this day and age, Clemmons thinks to himself.
“That’s wonderful to hear Eli, I’m pleased that you’re happy.”
Before a confused Weevil can ask what the man is on about, the infant draws both their attention.
The little blonde’s face breaks into a big, gummy grin that tugs faintly at Clemmon’s subconscious, her tiny, chubby legs kicking excitedly, arms stretched out towards the doorway.
Must be the little ones other father, thinks Clemmons, curious to see who Eli had wound up with.
Following the infants line of sight, Clemmons is taken aback to see Logan Echolls making his way across the café. Logan’s smiling gaze fixed firmly on the little girl, his arms stretched out to let the little girl know her excitement is reciprocated.
In a million years, I wouldn’t have made that connection, thinks Clemmons surprised.
Logan Echolls and Eli Navarro! Well, I suppose they always did have enormous chemistry between them. I just didn’t see it playing out like this, the man decides, wondering privately how the troubled 09er wound up with the troubled 02er, or perhaps ‘troubled’ is the key operative here, he muses.
“Ah, I see, Uncle Eli’s chopped liver now daddy’s here.” Weevil says jokingly to the infant who’s leaning as far forward as her carrier will allow, reaching out to her approaching parent.
Uncle? Wait, what? Van Clemmons throws out his previous assumptions, his sharp mind makes some swift calculations and comes up with a terrifying equation.
Blonde baby girl + Logan Echolls + Uncle Eli can only equal one thing – Veronica Mars!
Surely not? The universe isn’t that twisted, he thinks, disturbed by the possibility.
St. John Baptist de la Salle, patron saint of teachers was clearly asleep at the chalkboard when this went down!
God in heaven, the two of them individually are bad enough! Van doesn’t want to contemplate the havoc that a combination of Mars/Echolls genetics could wreak in the environment that is Neptune High. In fact, the citizens of Neptune in general best watch their backs if his conclusion is correct!
While the High School Principal has a mild internal breakdown, Logan is extracting his daughter from the clutches of the carrier and placing butterfly kisses on the chubby cheeks of the happily gurgling baby.
Ignoring the bystander, Logan casually interrogates the leather clad babysitter. “Did she eat?”
“Nah Opie, the bottle just looked so tasty I drank it myself.” Weevil says sarcastically, shaking his head that Logan had even asked.
“A simple yes would suffice.” Logan bats back baldly.
Clocking the identity of the older man with Weevil, Logan grins with cocky delight as he correctly interprets the man’s perturbed expression.
“Ah, Van, I see you’ve been introduced to the catalyst for your retirement planning.” Logan chirps with snarky joy, waving one of Rosie’s chubby fists at the man, taking unholy delight in his ex-principals obvious consternation.
“Ah, yes, Mr Echolls.” The generally articulate man managed to stutter out before reinstalling his well-used poker face. “Congratulations on the baby, nice to see you both. Give my regards to Veronica.” Van Clemmons says by way of hasty farewell, moving towards the door, already mentally composing the staff memo he’ll be issuing on Monday and calculating how many years he has to pay off his mortgage, cover Butters collage fees and still save something for retirement!
“Where’s V?” Weevil asks a grinning Logan, who’d been amusing himself by waving Rosie’s hand at the departing back of his wife’s occasional nemesis and enabler.
“Taking a walk, she’s going to meet us at the park later.” Logan says breezily, failing to show any of the concern he’d felt when Veronica had texted she needed sometime to herself after her one on one session with Dr Molly that morning.
While Veronica had been off getting her head shrunk, Logan had been at home over seeing the installation of their new, state of the art security system.
All in all, he’s pretty pleased with how that’s turned out. There’ll be no more unwelcome visitors, murderous or otherwise in their place after this.
In typical Logan fashion, he'd spared no expense. This new system went far beyond deadlocks, even requiring a unique code to unlock any of the doors and windows.
He’d really wanted a retinal scanner to round it out, but Veronica had vetoed the idea, saying that there was no way a maniac was scooping out her eyeball to get inside their house.
Logan’s opinion that she should lay off the spy movies was met by a silent look of such intensity that he’d abandoned his quip that she’d look kickass with an eye patch, deciding that Roy T Bennett had it right, sometimes ‘A wise person knows when to be silent’.
“You good now?” Weevil questions the brunette, keen to get on with the rest of his day now Rosie was back in parental custody.
“Yep, here’s your code, I expect you to memorize it then destroy it.” Logan tells him, handing over a yellow slip of paper with a six digit code.
“It ‘aint going to explode Mission Impossible style is it?” The biker quips.
“Not this time.” Logan grins back, handing over a second yellow slip as an afterthought, adding, “Here, this one’s for Claudia.”
Veronica would kill him if he locked Weevils sister out! For a woman who’d been insistent that they didn’t need a housekeeper, Veronica had adapted pretty damn fast to having Claudia come in twice a week, he thinks to himself with an internal chuckle.
That’s it, that’s the last code, Logan thinks, pleased with himself for getting it all set up inside of the morning with no additional stress on Veronica.
Not only was it installed and working, but Mac had set up a new thing on their phones called an app, which let them control who could access their home.
They’d only give out codes to a trusted handful of people. The codes were also time controlled and allocating access had been subject to negotiation.
A negotiation Logan had lost soundly, even though he’s almost positive negotiations aren’t meant to work that way.
Henceforth, Dick would be relegated to pressing his face against the glass of the back door, pouting for entry between the hours of 9 pm and 7 am, whereas Wallace, for reasons Veronica declined to convey to her loving spouse outside of the statement “Because it’s Wallace”, required 24 hour unfettered access.
In the end it’d been easier for Logan to acquiesce and just be thankful that Veronica had agreed that Keith was on limited access as well. Unscheduled night-time visits from his father-in-law could only end badly for Logan’s sexual creativity and marital harmony!
Regardless of the lost negotiation, this new system would allow Logan to sleep soundly knowing his family was safe. That is, right up to the point the obvious flaw in the system was revealed, rending Logan appalled at his own lack of foresight.
The system stopped people getting in - but it never occurred to Logan that it didn’t stop people getting out. A glaring oversight that would be borne home with startling clarity in the early hours of a random Wednesday fourteen years from now……… *** Insert twinkly piano music to signify huge jump forward in time here ***
Both apparently focused on their own clandestine missions, it’s hard to say which is more surprised to be discovered in the faint moonlight, the overprotective father, or the teenage girl perched precariously halfway out of her bedroom window.
For the longest moment the two play possum, each wondering what the next chess move is.
Then it happened.
Using that overly perky, hopeful tone that must have struck dread into Keith Mars heart in years gone by, Logan’s baby girl uttered the words he’d been dreading hearing since the day she was born.
“I can explain.” The teens accompanying exaggerated cheesy grimace and well-practiced, innocent ‘who me?’ expression, the spitting image of her mothers, is met squarely by Logan’s cynically raised eyebrows.
Silently, the concerned father motioned to the busted teen to continue her egress from the window.
Wordlessly, with a large hand on a small shoulder, the pair make their way to the front door, both calculating minds whirling with conjecture.
Daughter rapidly accessing just how much information she’ll need to give to satisfy her perennially suspicious parents that won’t get her grounded indefinitely or jeopardize her ‘project’.
Father desperately praying that in this instance, the apple has fallen much closer to the Mars side of the tree than the Echolls side.
Willing himself to look on the bright side, Logan thinks optimistically that perhaps she was just slipping out quickly to intimidate a local gang leader, maybe indulge in a little light safe cracking, you know, normal Mars girl child stuff!
Fact is Logan would happily take potentially borderline criminal activity over the possibility that his baby girl was indulging in any of the reasons a teenage Logan would have absconded in the dead of the night. Those reasons usually involved alcohol, girls, or both, he thinks with an internal groan, opening the front door and motioning Rosie inside for what will turn out to be a VERY long chat!
But that’s a problem for future Logan. A problem that present day Logan is blissfully unaware of, leaving him free to settle back, relax, order himself a well earned coffee and decide if he'd like a biscotte as well…