Two Nights at xxxxxxx Studios or Party Hard in Private Spaces

You pass this space or a space much like it everyday if you drive up and around Highland Park, Glassell Park, or Eagle Rock.  They’re not public public, but if you’re a friend or a friend of a friend--as I am--then you can get an into some great events.  Entrepreneurs take a chance on a space like this converting them into commercial enterprises that are galleries or studios by day, but by night they host private parties and events.  Most won’t last more than a few years before either converting into a full fledged business or rotting on the vine due to poor planning and organization.  In the meantime people like me get to enjoy the heck out of them while they do last.

I end up here at random when a friend says our mutual friend’s space is putting up live music.  If you’ve read my bit about live local music recently then you know I’m reluctant to come out for random music.  I wouldn’t come out at all save for the fact that many of my friends--all two of them--will be there as well as other acquaintances.  Sometimes you just have to grit your teeth and roll the dice.  Besides that night I’m the one driving and if I needs an escape hatch I has it.

We roll up to the space with an an hour to kill so I say we walk up to a local bar just down the street.  It’s just down a ways really.  Of course five minutes into said walk, I realize I really don’t have a clear idea what I mean when I say “just down a ways.”  Apparently what I really meant was let’s walk halfway down to Figueroa grab a round and a taco then walk back to the party.  My two friends bear with me--god love them--and we do just that.  It’s not the best way to kill an hour, but it’s a lot better than standing around chain smoking cigarettes.

Back at the space, the event’s slowly building up.  The music’s set, but there are only a handful of people just arriving.  We meet the producer for the night’s headliner Dan and shortly after the headliner himself Cormac.  We get to riffing about things rather too vulgar and obscene for the page, but it’s amusing nonetheless.  They’re busy setting up their event.  Apparently it’s something like a record release for an album name Black Tie Affair.  Having not heard a note of it, I really couldn’t speak to them of it.  I didn’t even know that Cormac is a Hip-Hop act.

Into the space we go and after stopping for refreshments, we settle into the foyer.  The main room itself is too much filled with music to hear conversations and by far a comfy red sofa beats standing around the lights and loud noises.  No one else we know have arrived yet, so it’s still just the three of us.  Eventually two random women take a chance and sit nearby.  I’m perfectly happy to leave people alone, but I always want to take a shot and see what happens.  You never know what interesting stories and conversations might be shared with strangers.  My first attempt to start a dialogue ends in flames.  After a brief discussion about music--I swear it was like pulling teeth getting band names from her-- we agree that the Arctic Monkeys are pretty good, and then we disengage.

I follow my friends outside and then return inside to explore a part of the space I’ve never been in before.  Just above the main room where the performance happens, there is a small room.  We climb a spiral staircase with narrow treads.  Without the security of a safety rail I carefully climb up and down several times through the course of the evening.  There we find a couch, easy chair, and loft with comfy pillows.  I’ll call it the Lair.  From the Lair I can see out into the main room where more and more people are arriving.  Up in the Lair my friends can relax.  Me, I can feel the vibrations rattling through the floor and the chair I’m sitting in.  It unnerves me such that soon enough I leave the Lair and brave the narrow treads down to the main room.

Returning to the comfort and safety of the red couch in the foyer, I am happy enough to relax and observe the party evolve.  I enjoy my refreshment sharing the couch with the woman I spoke with earlier about the Arctic Monkeys.  Her and her friend--playing some sort of game on her phone--are likely doing exactly what I’m doing and I’d rather not distract them.  Maybe she’s bored because she lacks someone’s attention, but she starts a conversation with me this time.

I relish a second chance to interact and connect with people especially when my first attempt falls so flat.  I want to believe people are interesting and exciting.  She asks me the basics.  I give them to her.  She asks me to do the “pitch” I had to learn for my very brief telemarketing gig last week.  I comply.  I ask her the basics and she reveals she is a student at UC Pico or Santa Monica College.  It’s not intended to be insulting; it’s just one of those funny sayings you hear about like when you call USC the University of Spoiled Children.  She says she’s a dual major Psychology and English.  Both topics I’m familiar with.  I hope to connect on Psychology alone so I talk about some of the things I’ve read over the last year like The Invisible Gorilla and Predictably Irrational.  She hasn’t touched either book so I try to explain some basic ideas.  And somehow I fall into lecture mode and she’s really not having it.  Despite how interested she says she is, I know from her posture and tone she’s really not about it.  So I move onto English and we talk about books neither of us have read and one we both have.  She mentions Kundera and I’m like, “Yeah...I just don’t get it.  Couldn’t get into it.  Sorry.”  At least we both read Love in the Time of Cholera.  I name other works by Marquez that she hasn’t read.  I especially recommend the first volume of his memoirs.  Why won’t he finish the second volume already?  I’ve been waiting ages for it.  At this point I think I’ve put a good faith effort into it and disengage again.  I don’t think she enjoys this.  Later in the evening I find her again hoping to connect her to my friends who are up in the Lair; maybe one of them will have more patience than I.  But she Fake Boyfriends me and I walk away.  C’est la vie.

I wander about some.  Cormac is still some time away from taking the stage.  Everyone I know is up in the Lair and I’m just wandering seeing if I can find an interesting conversation.  I settle in front of a pass through window that looks into a kitchen and past that is the refreshment stand and the main room.  I’m closer to the action now, and I’m hunting for an opportunity to break into a conversation.  Ideally I’ll find one person, much like me, hanging back alone vulnerable.  I’ve had plenty of interesting conversations start off like that.  Just a few weeks ago I shared most of an evening with a local resident who just discovered his woman was pregnant with twins.  That was super fun times.

This might take some time and my patience is wearing.  I can’t quite find the right spot, but someone interesting comes up to me.  She’s not talking or starting the conversation, but she’s got a camera and she seems particularly interested in one gentleman.  His face fills her camera’s viewer, so I throw away a line like, “Should I warn him your stalking him?”  And she explains that she’s just documenting the night.  How attractive is that?  Professionalism and simple passion is so cool.  I would have loved to sit her down and chat about that for awhile, but who am I to distract someone who is focused and on the job.  After that I cut my losses and retreat to the Lair where me and my buddies wait for Cormac to take the stage.

When Cormac takes the stage I’m happy to say that they’re not too shabby.  They have a definite Tribe Called Quest vibe that I kind of enjoy.  Their beats are simple and very accessible.  Their rhymes flow well and are easy to follow along with.  It’s simple Hip Hop that many fans can easily connect with.  While in the Lair they were good background music to chill to while relaxing with my friends.  

I wasn’t able to stay for the whole show.  It was midnight or so when I Ieft because I had a job to go to the next morning.  From what I heard I sort of wished they were more ambitious.  Their hooks weren’t as catchy as they could have been likely because they wanted to avoid risk.  I say take a leap and see if a beat or hook flies in front of an audience.  I also wonder how connected they are to the Underground Hip Hop community in Los Angeles.  I myself, save for a Project Blowed 10yr Anniversary show, have never been able to connect to that local music scene the way I’ve connected to the Silverlake indie rock community.

And that’s that for this night at an amazing space you’ll never get to go to and on to Shotspeare.

The first time I rolled into this place I was with one of my friends and Shotspeare had just finished up.  I could see from the debris that littered the floor that some good time had been had just recently.  There were cups and empty shot glasses just lying about.  Everyone was in good spirits and happily conversing with each other despite the slightest hint of slurry speech.  It seemed like something worth checking out.

It rolled around this past Valentine’s Day and though I’m not about that particular holiday I wanted to see what was there to be seen.  Both my two friends were unavailable for this event so I roll up to the space solo.  I greet the two guys who run the space.  They’re both so smart and cool.  Some time after that a couple of other acquaintances arrive, but they look like they’re on dates and I happy enough to leave them to that.

I pass the time chewing gum and looking about the crowd of fifty people or so.  It’s a mixed one that pleases me.  I hate going somewhere and just seeing the usual scenesters and hipsters.  It’s always so cool to see the older folk come out to play.  I direct you to www.shotspeare.com for an accurate description of the format of this event.

This is not for any of you Shakespeare snobs.  I imagine the market for this event are fans of Rocky Horror Picture Show; if you’ve been to that before you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.  Shotspeare is one part improvisation and one part Romeo & Juliet shaken with two parts of Jack Daniels.  Audience participation is expected and even demanded.  A fearless soul was required to join the cast for the play’s duration.  I do not envy him that task, but he did prove himself worthy of the honor.  That sort of “on the spot” stress would break a lesser person like me.

Two noteworthy highlights of the evening include a shadow play performed during the “love scene” from Romeo & Juliet with Reznor’s song Closer playing in the background.  I myself did not care for the vulgarity of it all--I imagine Shakespeare himself would disagree with me--but I do appreciate the care and detail of setting up that complete sequence.  The other highlight of the evening was Juliet taking direction from another cast member.  It was pure outrageous improvisation.   Juliet suffering the loss of Romeo is directed to motorboat an audience member in the first row; wet willie someone else in the third row; and scissor a woman in the last row.  I do not envy them their experience, but it was rather amusing and entertaining to watch.

After an hour or so the performance ends and I head out for some fresh air only stopping to be greeted and to greet the lovely woman who was documenting the evening on video.  Outside I meet a remarkably familiar man.  He’s quite well spoken and easy to converse with.  A relatively new resident of the area we discussed various local eateries.  Eventually I learned he was an actor.  I asked him what I might have seen of him.  “True Blood.”  I know of it, but I don’t follow that show.  “Gilmore Girls.”  Suddenly struck by how I knew him, I was much more impressed by his casual accessibility.  Todd Lowe, of “Zach and Lane’s three weddings in one day”, is a really cool guy.  He plays guitar and mandolin in a band called LA Hootenanny that’s just about to finish a series of gigs at Villains Tavern in downtown.  I’ve seen I See Hawks In  L.A. and that was worth checking out a couple of times; I’ll likely check out his band in a couple of weeks if they’re still playing at Villains.

Anyway the night quickly wears on me and I head out again into it soon after.

Veronica Mars Fan Fic 1 or Bitch From The Future

    Sitting in her nondescript beater--a car she drives only when she needs to not be noticed--Veronica Mars eyes the doors of an underground bar not far from the 90 just outside Englewood.  It’s the place every cop and crook knows about, but  V would never think about busting the place down.  Why would she ever make it harder for herself to find the bad guys especially when they were silly enough to gather together all the time in the same place?
    She stifles a yawn as the doors open yet again.  It’s been a late night now, slowly easing into early morning, for her waiting for that special someone to leave that nameless place.  A couple stumble out the open doors.  He’s a archetypical loser in his thirties who looks like a man in his fifties.  She’s the exact same save for gender; too many years of hard drinking has etched a monument to bad choices over both their faces.  But they’re not the one she’s looking for.
    He’s in there she knows that.  She may not be at the top of the law enforcement food chain anymore, but her snitches still sing when she pays them to.  Her people told her that Bobby, a “loser’s loser” if his mother can be believed, is in that place drinking himself to oblivion again.  Maybe she should just walk into the joint and pull him out--it’s a thought she’s considered--but that would just leave witnesses and hassles she doesn’t need right now.  Doing that might make it more difficult to leave this godforsaken city of Chicago.
    Veronica considered the possibility that her target would have smartened up since that last time she spoke with him.  It might have occurred to him that V would be looking for him again after he started doing what he’s been doing.  But it’s never good to bet on the intelligence and foresight of a crook like that.  Still it was a good idea just in case for her to park where she could see the other exit that no one ever uses because a moment later the doors pop open.  A crowd of three or four guys vomit out the.  It’s hard to tell just what’s happening but when they start punching each other the story tells itself.
    She focuses her eyes on the faces of each brawler, and the third one is exactly the face she’s been waiting for.  Climbing out of her car she strides quickly over to the group.  Her hand rests loosely on the handle of her piece tucked into a holster clipped to her waist.  It will likely not be necessary.  Everyone knows better than to pull a gun on her, but on the off chance that one or more of them are from out of town it never hurts to take a few precautions.
    “Hey guys!” she calls out to them when she’s in earshot.  “Having some fun tonight I see.”
    One of them, not her mark, turns to look at the source of those words and is promptly punched in the face.  He’s down and out for now.  The guy doing the punching won’t let the poor guy alone though, he lands a few more punches before V catches up to him.
    “C’mon man.  I think you’ve won this argument.”
    The guy looks at her and takes a swing that V easily dodges.  She steps into him and lands a heavy blow to his solar plexus; she follows that up with an elbow strike and a leg sweep.  The guy lands next to his erstwhile opponent; both are out cold and resting peacefully now.  She’s finally gotten the attention of her mark.  The other guy left standing raises his hands and edges backward out of the scene.  With a wave of her head she dismisses him and he takes off running into the early morning light.
    “As for you Bobby we need...” she starts.  He doesn’t hear her finish because he takes off running.  V finds that rather amusing.  She gives hims a count to three headstart; it’s not like Bobby could outrun a toddler in the shape he’s in.

When she starts the chase, Bobby’s about ten paces in front of her heading over to a junkheap that makes her beater look like a Rolls.  He stops to try to escape into the car.

“Bobby.  Bobby.  Bobby.  Can’t we talk like civilized people do?” she asks him.

The chase begins again; it won’t last much longer.  Bobby’s lead slowly dwindles; V isn’t even really trying.  She paces him just a few steps behind.

“I’m really glad you’re concerned I don’t get enough exercise, but really I just want to have a little word with you Bobby.”

    Wheeze.  Cough.  “Stay...away.”
    “Looks like you need a breather; let me help you out with that.”
    Veronica sprints for a beat or two and catches up to him and kicks hard at his left foot just as he picks it up.  Bobby tumbles to the ground in a heap winded and insensible.  She’s strong for her size but she can’t pick up the lout, so she slaps the senses back into him and walks him back to whatever that is that passes for his car.
    There she props him on his hood and stares him down.  Bobby’s eyes knows there’s no escape; the only hopes he has is that whatever happens next won’t hurt too much or otherwise leave a permanent injury.
    “I know you’ve been asking around about Mary.”
    “Whatever.  You heard wrong.”
    Veronica pops him one aiming for nerves to maximize the pain without leaving serious injury.
    “Okay.  Okay,” he says.
    “You’ve been talking to Mary’s family again haven’t you?”
    “She stole my last paycheck.”
    Veronica doesn’t have to hit him again; she just stares at him and he breaks.
    “Fine.  I promise not to do it again.  Are we done yet?  I got a job to get to.”
    “I really wish I could believe you Bobby.  I really do, but your word’s just not going to cut it.  I know I’ve been fair.  I only asked one thing from you and you disappointed me Bobby.  We’re going to have to think of a way for me to help you truly understand why you should never disappoint me.”
    “You’re not even a Fed any more man.  You can’t do shit to me.”
    “Really Bobby?  I didn’t think you scumbag like you could ever surprise me like that.  Tell me Bobby do you really think I can’t do shit to you?  Am I more dangerous with a badge or without.”
    Bobby’s brain really tries to parse Veronica’s words, but the best it can come up with falls far short of the snuff.
    “Hey isn’t that a line from Shaft?”
    Veronica sighs before proceeding to beat the shit out of Bobby.  It’s a beating he’ll walk away from but not a beating he’ll soon forget.  He rolls to the asphalt.
    “I really don’t think this is the time to note pop culture references Bobby,” she says as she gets her daily workout  by dragging the limp bastard about hundred feet away from his junker.  Before Bobby gets propped up by a wall she tears his jacket off of him then walks back to the junker.
    “Okay.  Here’s what I’ll do,” she yells.  From out of a pocket she finds a multi-tool and pries off the junker’s gas lid then cap.  She cuts several narrow strips of cloth from the jacket and twines them around each other before she stuffs them into the junker’s gas tank.
    “If I ever hear how you’re anything but the model example of an ex-husband that is one who is silent and ever far removed from their ex-spouse, I will do to you what I’m about to do to this miserable excuse of Korean engineering.”
    Veronica pulls a zippo out and lights the fabric up.  She walks back to stand next to Bobby.
    “You ever see a car go up Bobby?  It can be a very beautiful thing.”
    They watch silently as flames engulf the junker.  There’ really isn’t much of an explosion; Bobby must not be able to to afford much of a tank of gas.  Still it’s a pretty sight all reds, oranges, and smoky grays.  It’s kind of pretty when the fire’s going full on and the sun’s just above the horizon, but it’s really only the shadow of a fire that Veronica remembers.

    It’s cave dark and silent when Veronica awakes.  The sweet smell of gasoline or some other volatile chemical is the very first sensation she has.  The first thing she hears is Logan.
    “Veronica.  You there?  Where are we?  What the fuck have you gotten us into?”
    “If I apologize can we just move along and try to figure out how to get out of this fucking thing I’ve gotten us into.  Follow my voice.”
    He does and when they’re close enough they smother each other in an embrace.  It’s a kind of intimacy they haven’t shared in a long time, but they’ve never forgotten it.  They are each others warm and comfortable blankies, just what the other needs in a situation as perilous as this.  Hand in hand they explore the darkness and come across a wall.  Wherever they are it’s as cavernous as a real cave, but more likely it’s just some sort of vacant warehouse.
    “This wall just goes on and on...” Logan remarks.
    “Let’s just wait a bit and see if anything else happens.”
    They don’t have to wait very long before a voice in the darkness begins to speak.
    “I may be dead Mr. Logan and Miss Mars, but that doesn’t mean I’m done with either of you,” booms the disembodied voice of Gory Sorokin.
    If only they could see the look of shock and surprise on each other’s face, that would be a comfort.  It would be something they could share before the darkness erupts into flames.
    “I know.  I know.  I could have just killed the both of you.   I could have killed that sexy intern you’ve been seeing Logan or that firefighter Veronica’s been booty calling three times a month.  It would have been easy and simple, but that just doesn’t work for me.”
    These revelations are no betrayals.  Both know how much a failure they’ve been as a couple.  Regardless these truths do wound them both.  Simultaneously they squeeze each other’s hand and whisper apologies.
    “Let me be clear then.  Only one of you will leave this place alive.  I hope whoever survives remembers the other fondly whenever they see a sight like this.”
    On cue small flames erupt all around them.  At least they shed some light on their surroundings.  Small flames dance together and form large flames until there is a wall of fire all around them.
    “I’d say you have ten minutes to escape this place.  Good luck and as always my fondest regards.”

    There’s always about a half an hour of peace and quiet at LAX.  Sometime between one and six in the morning something random clicks and a hush falls everywhere.  All that can be heard is the soft snores of the stranded and canceled passengers that litter the lounges and terminals.  A nameless maintenance guy enjoys this period of time; it’s the best part of his shift, but it always ends too soon.
    A plane lands and the terminals come alive again.  Veronica Mars arrives in Southern California fragile but ready to face the next part of her life.  Unlike the last time she came by for a visit her father, who would abuse his sheriff’s privilege to get past security to greet her, is no where to be seen.  If she gave herself any amount of time to consider that significance she would not be able to function at all.  Instead she pushes it out of mind and looks at the people waiting in the terminal.
    “Veronica!  Hey V!” a deep but still feminine voice calls out to her.
    Apparently her father wasn’t the only one to be above abusing the privileges that come from being a person of substance.  Mac stands there a few feet away from the  jetway.  Veronica comes up to her and Mac takes her into a deep embrace.  Having kids has definitely improved her sense of warmth and kindness.
    “C’mon V!  Let’s go and get your luggage and we’ll take you back to the guesthouse.”
    “We?”
    “You remember little Rebecca?” Mac says pointing to a nearby stroller.  “We’ll just get your bags and be on our way.  I’m so excited you’re going to be staying with us.  Max is away so often it’s going to be so good to have another adult to talk to.”
    Veronica examines the contents of the stroller smiling approval at the toddler.  Here was something that was missing from her life in Chicago: family.
    “No luggage.  Everything I wanted to keep I had shipped; it’ll arrrive tomorrow afternoon.  Everything else is either in storage or Goodwill by now.”
    “Great then let’s get moving.”
    They make their way through LAX quickly.  Mac pushes her child’s stroller with an ease that Veronica finds comforting.  She knows she could not help feel fear and worry for something so precious traveling through the uncertainty of the airport.  They exit the airport.
    “We’re outside,” Mac says to thin air.
    Veronica gives her friend and odd look.
    “It’s a bit of tech Max found in the Philippines.  I’m wired for sound and it’s automatically heard by my driver who should be just about pulling up right now.”
    A minivan comes to a stop in the loading zone, and a man who presumably is a driver exits.  Mac picks her baby up and the driver loads the stroller and V’s carry-on into the back.  Something about the driver piques Veronica’s sense of danger.  By the cut of his suit and the way he moves, this driver is more than a driver.
    When they’re both belted and seated inside Mac explains, “Max insisted that we have a driver/bodyguard.  Adam here is ex-Israeli Military Intelligence.  Adam this is my best friend in the world Veronica.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” a voice comes out of a speaker.
    “Me too you,” Veronica answers before continuing, “He’s not here for me, is he?”
    Mac shoots her a funny look before saying, “Please V.  You’re not the only one in the world who’s a target in somebody’s sights.  I’ll have you know that Max and I have about as many powerful enemies as you do.”
    “Okay.  Didn’t mean to offend.”
    “Not at all.”
    The conversation lapses into silence for minutes as Mac fusses with Rebecca who just won’t settle down into her car seat for the long drive south to Neptune.
    “Is it okay if I nap a bit; I just couldn’t get a bit of rest on the plane.”
    “Not at all V.  We’ll have tons of time to catch up later.”
    Veronica shuts her eyes and starts to let her mind wander.  It’s a trick she learned from one her of Quantico classmates.  It’s a sort of meditation that blanks the mind and let’s time just flow and flow.  Minutes pass like seconds when she’s in this state.  Usually she can ignore any distractions that bother her when she’s under, but the faint sound of a police siren drags her back to reality.
    “Everything’s fine V.  Just got pulled over.  Adam will take care of it.”
    “I’m sure.”
    Some time has passed now they’re far from Los Angeles.  In fact they’re on PCH just inside the borders of Neptune.  She can see the ocean from here and the sight of it brings her some small comfort.  This ain’t no Lake Michigan she’s looking at; it’s the mighty Pacific that stretches out before her.  Somewhere there at the other end of the water is another world not just Canada.
    Whoever pulled them over is taking their time walking up to them.  From the uniform Veronica can’t tell who it is, but from the walk she knows exactly who to expect.  Leo D’Amato appears to be more confident now; a couple of years of being Sheriff has seasoned him somewhat.
    “I’d like to speak to your passengers for a moment Adam,” he says through the driver’s open window.
    “Open the door Adam, let’s hear what the Sheriff has to say,” Mac whispers before the door opens.
    Leo stands before them with a strange unsure expression on his face.
    “Sheriff,” Mac begins.
    “Mac.  How’s everything?”
    “‘Bout the same.  Anything I can help you with today?”
    “Just wanted to welcome Veronica back to Neptune and tell her she has the full support of her father’s Department.”
    The way he says that is just insulting to Veronica.  Rage fills her for a moment before she regains her composure.  To everybody else it’s just a blink of her eyes.
    “Thanks Sheriff.  I appreciate that.  I’m sure my father would have been proud to see his number-one-go-to-guy succeed him,” she says these words the best she can, but she can’t help but inject some small amount of venom into them.
    “I...Your father,” Leo sputters.  “He was a great guy.  I miss him everyday.”
    “Me too!” V snaps back a tad too harshly then she had intended to.
    “I also wanted to let you know that I don’t believe a single word of what anybody says about what happened in Chicago.  I knew your father; I know you, and I can’t imagine that what they’re saying can be true.  I’d loved to hear the whole story from you sometime.”
    “I’ll pencil you in after I get settled in.  Is there anything else?”
    “Nope.”
    “If that’s all then,” Mac says before whispering to Adam.  The doors slide shut, and Adam drives them away from the Sheriff who’s still standing there as their cloud of dust swallows him.
    “The nerve of that guy,” Mac starts.  Veronica only has enough self control to shrug.
    “Well I’m going to talk to someone about this.  I will.”
    “Don’t bother let’s just move it along.”
    The drive continues in silence, until Rebecca falls asleep.
    “Thank god,” Mac says.  “Now if we talk quietly we can actually have an adult conversation.”
    “So that’s what with the act?”
    “You know me good old Mac.  Same old same old underneath the mommy mask.”
    “You had me going there awhile.”
    “Whatever.  I know I didn’t have you fooled for a sec,” Mac says before continuing, “I don’t know if you want to but Dick wanted to host at thing for you if your up for it.”
    “Good old Dick never lets any opportunity to party pass him by.”
    “I could tell you it’s not like that, but I don’t think you’d believe me.  He’s been a very different person since Logan...” she coughs to hide the awkwardness.
    “It’s fine,” Veronica says.
    “He’s been very good for us finishing some of the things that Logan left behind.  He’s not the idiot you remember and he’s not talking about a party.  It’s just a small dinner thing he wants to do.  You, me, the kids maybe Cliff if he’s around.”
    “Something like that sounds fine.”
    “One more thing...”
    “Yeah.”
    “Charlie Stone called us up the other week.”
    Veronica doesn’t know how to respond to that.
    “He and Logan got pretty close,” Mac continues.  “He just wants to know what happened.”
    “Now we’re talking about something I just can’t deal with right now.  I’m sorry about it.  That’s just too much.”
    “No problem.  There’s no rush.  Look we’re almost home.  We’ll talk more later.”
    “Sure.”
    Veronica’s eyes drifts to the streets and buildings around her.  So much has changed here but so much has not.  There are still the same class divisions that have existed for as long as she can remember, but it just doesn’t seem so bad right now.  Maybe someone’s been working on fixing that problem lately.  Considering all the recent Occupy hostility she’s surprised that Neptune hasn’t erupted in violent protests.  The more things change and all that, she thinks.
    Her mind drifts back to that conversation with Sheriff D’Amato.  So much of that reminds her of her father.  It can’t be helped.  The uniform alone is enough to trigger her memories.

    “You have got to stop this!” her father tells her.  This isn’t exactly the warm reception she was expecting for her first trip to Neptune in three years.  She had imagined something more cozy and comfortable than Interrogation Room Two.
    “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
    “You know damn well what we’re talking about,” he says pointing at his deputy Leo D’Amato who’s standing in behind him.  “You’re in town checking into Gory Sorokin’s background.  Everybody knows it.  Gory himself called me to tell me he knows about it.”
    “Are we really on a first name basis with monsters like Gory now?  When did that happen?  I thought our job was to put away monsters like Gory.”
    Keith Mars takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax.  Getting upset is not the way to convince his stubborn daughter of anything.

“I’m sure you know that Gory clipped a whole cartel crew, right?”

V nods.

“You know why,” he asks.  She shakes her head.  “Because they didn’t return his phone call.  He clipped a fucking cartel crew for not returning his phone call.”

“So he’s a crazy monster.  We’ve put away people like that before.”

    “And you know what the cartel did to retaliate?” Keith continues.  His daughter shrugs.  “They did nothing.  They did nothing because if they knew that if they tried anything Gory Sorokin would have just hooked up with one of their rivals and kill every last one of them.”
    “So he’s a crazy, influential monster.”
    “I don’t know how else to explain it.  Gory Sorokin is just a businessman as far as the rest of the world cares.  He’s a developer.  He’s a corporate executive.  No one knows he’s one of the most influential mobsters on the West Coast.  To the likes of us in law enforcement, he’s virtually untouchable.
    “He snaps his fingers and people disappear.  But his hands are clean.  He nods his head and lives are ruined.  I’ve looked at some of the books, and you can’t tell where Gory’s legitimate businesses end and where his mob ties begin.  You look at him the wrong way and you’re happy if the worst thing he does is break your legs.  He’s done far worse things to people for far less rational reasons.”
    “We’ve covered that with crazy, but don’t you see that’s exactly why I have to take him down.”
    Keith takes a moment before he tries a different tack.
    “He called me a couple of years ago, you know,” Keith admits.  “I knew who his father was, but I hadn’t heard a thing about him before.  But he calls me and tells me that he’s willing to overlook certain insults to his sensibilities that you and Logan are responsible for.  He’s willing to do this as long as you leave him alone to do his work in peace.”
    “You can’t possibly believe that’s a good offer.”
    “I don’t know,” Keith says softly.  This whole conversation has left him exhausted.
    “And if I don’t leave him alone?  What’s he going to do?”
    “I don’t know.  But you better be prepared to live with whatever happens if you don’t.  That’s all I got to say.”
    Before she can form a witty response to that, he kisses her on her forehead.  Her father continues, “C’mon Leo.  We’ve some real work to do before I meet my lovely daughter for dinner later.  Let’s go.”  Deputy Leo stands alone for a moment.
    “See you’re still single there Leo,” Veronica ventures.
    “Can’t quite quit thinking about the one who got away and all.”
    “Flirt!  You’ve got my dad’s back, right?”
    “Absolutely, I’m his number-one-go-to-guy.  I wouldn’t let anything ever happen to him.”
    “Good to know.  You better catch up with dad before he starts yelling for you.”
    He nods and exits the interrogration room.

    “You have quite a reputation here at Neptune High Miss Mars.”
    Veronica’s a little bit lost in her conversation with Ella Borys the principal of Neptune High.  Walking these halls again is a bit of a distraction.  There are some memories here.  Not all of them good, but the good ones are the ones that do standout.
    “I’m sorry what was that?”
    “I said that you have a quite a reputation.  Some of your former teachers remember you quite fondly.  And some of your former classmates...let’s just say that they don’t share the same opinion.”
    “You’re talking about Madison right?”
    “For one I suppose, but I really shouldn’t gossip.  Regardless of what people have to say I must admit I’m very excited to have someone with your background teaching here.”
    “You’re in dire need of a ex-FBI agent I suppose?”
    “No, not that part of you background.  I’m referring to your Journalism Awards that you received while attending Neptune High--we still have those on display in the office--and those other awards you received while you attended Hearst College.  I’ve seen those on display in the O’Dell Admissions Hall.”
    “Oh.”
    “Don’t get me wrong that other background of yours is also exciting, but I have to wonder why you never tried to pursue a career journalism.”
    “Let’s just say I had a different calling.”
    “Sure.  Well here’s the room.  Before we go in and introduce you to your class, let me make some demands of you if I can.”
    Veronica stares at the petite woman before wondering if she was for real or not.  It wouldn’t surprise her if she were to show her her pointed elfin ears.  She shakes this distractions off and nods to acknowledge the Principal's words.
    “I would like you to take this newspaper back to the top.  We were once the envy of every district for hundreds of miles in every direction, but we didn’t quite figure out the Internet and all very well.  So we’ve got issues, no pun intended.”
    “Well I promise I’ll do my best to make that happen.”
    “That’s all I can ask for.  Shall we?”
    Veronica nods and Ella Borys opens the door and shows her inside.  The class is just a little bit out of control.  Borys calls for their attention and the rooms quiets.
    “Let me introduce all of you to Miss Mars.  She will be taking over as your journalism advisor.  Be sure to pay her the same attention and respect you would to Mr. Sauzig,” she says in her authority voice.  To Veronica she adds in an aside, “We’ll find you more classes to sub just as soon as we see how this is working out for you, okay?”
    Veronica nods and Boryz leaves to do whatever Principals do, probably administrate.  She takes her place behind the podium and eyes the kids.  Reading the room is something she’s used to doing as a Fed, but she’s not exactly looking to see if any of these kids are going to pull a gun or a knife on her.  There’s Buddy, Mac’s eldest son.  These high school years won’t be kind to a child of nerds.  That blond sitting in the back corner must be Madison’s daughter.  She doesn’t quite have that vacant stare she remembers Madison having; that must be Dick’s genes.  In the opposite corner is a Hispanic girl.  She’s has a face that reminds her of someone but she can’t recall who.  Maybe it’s all that make up--eye shadow and mascara--and teased hair that confuses her.
    “Let’s get started then with attendance.”
    She reads off the names in alphabetical order.
    “Cassidy Casablancas.”
    There’s an odd expression on her face when Veronica says her name.
    “Here.”
    “Is everything alright,” Veronica asks.
    “Everything’s fine,” Cassidy responds.  “It’s just that I though you’d be taller.  From what my Mom said I thought you’d be tall and more angry than you are.  You seem normal to me.”

“Well thank you then Cassidy.  Tell your Mom that I’ll make sure that you’re well taken care of.  Let’s continue then.”

The names continue on.

“Lily Navarro.”

The Hispanic girl raises her hand.  Before she can read off the next name one of the boys on the other side of room says, “Ladybug.  She’s called Ladybug.”

Lily Navarro rolls her eyes.

“Is Ladybug what you would prefer to be called?”

Lily shrugs.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a related to Eli Navarro?”

“He’s my father.”

“Weevil is your father?”

Lily shoots her the nastiest look.  It’s enough for Veronica to backtrack some.

“Eli was a friend of mine.”

“I know.  I really thought you’d be taller and maybe tougher looking.”

“Anyway then, I’m glad to see Eli has such a precocious child.”

“Whatever.”

She continues with the names again until she reads Buddy’s name.

“Max Walther-MacKenzie.”

“Here.”

“I’m happy to be here with you too Buddy.”

Something about what she says makes the whole room laugh.  It takes a second for her settle it out and she reads more names until she comes to the last name.  Her Fed skills are buzzing a little because she hasn’t figured out who this last name belongs to.  She must be sitting behind that tall kid.

“Melody York,” Veronica repeats.

From somewhere behind that tall kid a girl says, “Present.”

“Can you stand up please, I can’t quite see you.”

When she stands up, V is almost knocked to the floor.  Melody York is the spitting image of her friend Lily Kane.  She has the exact same wide eyed face and full mouth.  Her long blondish hair hangs from her shoulders the same way Lily’s hair did.  She has the same shade of blue eyes.  The moment is leaving her feeling strangely feverish.  It’s been years since this ghost has haunted her, but if there were ever a good time for it to return then now would be perfect.  She’s feeling more crazy than sane anyway these days.

“Miss Mars,” Melody says.

That voice isn’t Lily’s voice.  That one difference is enough for her mind to reel itself back into place.  Suddenly she sees the differences.  Melody is not quite as short as Lily was.  She carries herself a little more formally, more rigid than the way Lily loosely did.  There’s something a little different in her eyebrows too.  Veronica notices now that despite their shared hair color Melody’s hair is not naturally that tint.  She can see a few of her brown roots.

“Miss Mars,” Melody says again.  “May I return to my seat please?”

“Sure.  Sure.”

The spell is broken and Veronica settles back to her class.

“That’s taken care of.  Let’s talk about what we’re working on then.  Who’s in charge of what?  Who writes what and all that, but let’s also talk about what your interests are.  If we can’t connect what you care about to what you write about, no matter what we do this paper won’t work.  Who wants to go first?”

    It’s evening now and Buddy’s riding his bike home.  He’s just been riding around Neptune going to places he probably shouldn’t, but he feels the need to explore every part of this place he calls home.  He’s seen some strange things on these bike rides of his.  Maybe he’ll talk to Miss Mars about writing a column.  It could be call Riding Around With Max or something.
    Ahead of him something out of the ordinary is happening.  It’s obviously some kind of burglary or robbery.  He’s particularly oblivious to this because he stops to watch the action.  There’s crowd of five or six guys in front of a biggish house; it’s not a mansion or anything but it has at least three bedrooms.  There’s a white truck parked in front of the place.
    The crowd of guys walk into the house empty handed and exit the house carrying big white boxes.  They stash these boxes in the back of the truck then head back into the house.  Even if Buddy thought this might be fishy, he’d dismiss it.  If something like that were happening wouldn’t these guys be wearing masks or something?  He can see their faces and clearly identify them.  When it starts to get boring, Buddy continues to bike home.
    Hours pass and Buddy is reading in the study when the doorbell rings.  He goes to answer it and sees that it’s a couple of Sheriff deputies.  He opens the door and tells them he’s going to find his mother.
    “Max Walther-MacKenzie?”
    “You’re looking for my dad?  He’s out of town.”
    “Max Walther-MacKenzie, we have an eyewitness that puts you at the scene of a burglary.  We’d like you to come down to the station with us to answer a few questions.”
    Mac walks into the situation only hearing the Deputies last few sentences.
She steps between the Deputies and her son and says, “No!  You tell us what’s going on right now or leave my son alone.  Adam!”
    Adam rushes into the middle of this,but he can’t interfere with the police.  He says, “I will be accompanying you to the station until Max has proper representation.”  To Mac he says, “Call Max.  Call a lawyer.  Then call for a babysitter and meet us down at the station.  We’ll work it out there.”
    Mac doesn’t understand why Adam would let this happen, but it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.  The deputies agree to Adam’s suggestion.  When they are gone Mac calls her husband, who will call Dick Casablancas, then she calls for someone to watch her other two kids while she’s taking care of this nonsense.  As she waits for her babysitter to arrive she realizes there is one perfect person she can call in a situation like this and as luck would happen she is sitting in her guest house right now.
    “Veronica!” she calls out.