Title: Some People Die Who Aren't Lilly
Summary: Something had to happen that night with or without her.
Notes: This takes place at the time Lily was killed.
Logan was never much for whining. Manly bitching followed by action was more his style. But there are some things that even if he wanted to bitch about, he wouldn't, and whining was out of the question. So, very masculine pouting would have to do the job. He also wasn't much for self-reflection but here he was sitting by Lily's pool under a tree waiting for her to come home with his back covered in welts he wasn't going to think about. He felt like such a little bitch.
When ever him and his dad got into fights he always sort of wished that he was Duncan. Not for the family part, he always got that cold fish slash reptile vibe off of Duncan's mom, but for Veronica. He really dug Lily but they were way too much of the same; wild, crazy, and with a bastard parent. He wouldn't get much sympathy and while the bitching circle that would ensue would be nice. He didn't want to have that sort of thing hanging over his head with her.
Veronica on the other hand was a girly chick, who wouldn't tell a soul and would go out of her way to make him feel better. She did that all the time with Duncan; whenever he had some problem like colleges or how it sucked to be perfect. Then again like with Lily, he doesn't want to be anyone's object of pity.
He knew he was stupid and acted even more stupid but a man has his pride. So, he'd count the days until he was eighteen then have his dad pull some strings to get him on a sitcom before he writes a tell all book about his family while his father is still on top. That would get him a bestseller, wreck his dad's career, and maybe even a movie. Then he'd retire with his trust fund and royalty checks.
Logan Echolls never saw the person behind him. He hardly had time to feel his temple being crushed. His last moments on earth were spent looking at the grass and telling himself that in a second he was going to get up and kick that punk's ass.
Some nights were worth being alive. This was one of them. Weevil was kicking back beside a fucking mad pool. The white folks his Nana worked for were gone and the house was theirs, at least for a few hours. If they came back sooner he'd just say he was here helping his grandma, who was currently watching a TV taller then him and practically wider then his room. But really who gave a flying fuck? The stars were out and shiny and grass was soft and green and he was going on like a poetic bitch but it was cool. As long as his crew wasn't watching he didn't care.
He wondered what would happen if the Kanes came home early. Weevil wasn't in awe of them like most of the town was. The dad was slick and rich, the mom was a cold fish, the son was boringly white, and the daughter was crazy. He'd put on the poor boy act and say how dark it was and how his grandma was scared of driving in it. He would lay it on thick. What would he get for that dance? Besides enough time for his grandma to look like she's finishing up. He had heard the stories about Lily... Then they'd be going back to the barrio and he'd be pissed off on principle.
Going to this house was like watching Cribs except when you saw how nice ever fucking thing was you really saw in 3-D with all the fixings. He'd never understand why Chardo liked that show so much. It just pissed him off and sent him swearing that one day he'd have a place like that. Don't even get him started on the garage of cars those celebrities had.
Weevil was starting to get angry but he couldn't hold on to it. It was just too nice out and he was too relaxed. Then something hit him on the fucking head. When he whipped around he was clubbed again. He didn't feel himself hit the ground. Blood was in his eyes and he couldn't even see the asshole that had got him. He was fucking pissed.
The house was empty but Keith knew that Jake and Celeste would be home soon. He pulled the cruiser up the gravel driveway and stopped by the pool. That would be pleasant place to sit and think about what he was going to say to Jake. A nice spot of grass by a tree would help him get centered. Sure, he seemed like the very picture of manly law enforcement but there was a time in his twenties when he was more granola and hemp than donuts and nightsticks.
Keith knew that Lianne wasn't able to get anything from Veronica about her relationship with the Kane boy so he decided that it was time to take matters in hand. Calmly but firmly he'd explain to Jake that he would chop his son's hands off if they inappropriately touch his daughter. Veronica was slowly moving away from him and he was trying to stop it. Lily wasn't helping his cause either. He liked Lily in all but she didn't help anything by her wild behavior. He found the girl to be fun and sweet but that didn't mean that he'd let Veronica act that way.
Maybe it was nothing but he needed a project to take his mind off Lianne. He loved her just as much as in the beginning but she was distant and the urge to investigate was stronger every day. He wasn't going to lose both his wife and daughter. So, if his project was defending his daughter's virtue against her wishes so be it. This might be something him and Lianne could bond over; nothing like late night stake outs and annoying a teenage girl to bring people together. Besides one day Veronica will thank him for saving her from the ferocious, hormonal beasts that are teenage boys. Or not.
The crowbar that hit him on the back of the head sent him to the ground with a thud. He could feel the blood flowing down his neck and around his ear. Keith flipped himself over and was greeted by a blow to the temple. He thought of Veronica and Lianne and how they would do without him.