More Logan/Weevil
Part Two
Eli woke to the sound of someone moving around in the apartment. He went tense until he remembered two things: that his days of gang violence had ended years ago, and that Logan Echolls had brought him off in his bathroom last night. It wasn’t exactly a comforting realization, but at least he didn’t need to worry about being burglarized.
He picked up some clothes off the floor and pulled them on before walking out into the kitchen. He was met with the wonderful smell of fresh coffee and eggs. Unfortunately, instead of some gorgeous girl with a soft, round ass, it was Logan standing at the stove, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other. He turned to Eli with a shit-eating little grin on his face and said, “Good morning, darling.”
“I thought I told you to get the hell out.”
“I was about to-when I noticed that your eggs were going to expire in a couple days. Can’t have that, now, can you?”
“You cooked breakfast?”
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do the morning after?” Logan asked, his right eyebrow curved in a wry arch.
“I didn’t realize you rich boys knew how to feed yourselves.”
Logan smirked. “You’d be surprised all the things I know how to do.”
Eli had been trying to avoid the whole issue, hoping Logan would just drop it, but that was just too much. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What?” Logan asked, spreading his hands.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I thought we established the fact that I was cooking you breakfast.”
“Don’t get smart, Echolls.”
“Sorry, I’ll try to speak in small words so you can understand.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“I just don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is, I don’t want anything to do with you, and I don’t have any idea why you’re pretending to give a shit about me.”
“Oh, well, if you say so,” Logan said with a smug little laugh.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing . . . Just, seemed like you were pretty interested in having something to do with me last night.”
Eli couldn’t help it. He reached out and shoved Logan hard in the chest. He stumbled back and hit his head on the cabinet.
“Ow!” He put down his beer, which had spilled over his rumpled dress shirt, and felt the back of his head gingerly. “Jesus, man. Chill the fuck out.”
“I don’t take this kind of thing too lightly, Echolls.”
“Evidently not,” Logan said, checking his fingertips for blood. They were clean. “You’re lucky that didn’t do any serious damage.”
“I’m terrified,” Eli snarled. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
“Is that what you call this? Hovel, maybe. House, not so much.”
“You want me to do some serious damage, white boy? Just keep talking.” He took a menacing step forward.
Logan just looked at him, a strange half-smile on his face. “You know, you’re not half as intimidating as you used to be.” He paused, tipped his head to the side as if considering. “Which isn’t saying much, but-still.”
Eli snorted. “Yeah, well, you never had it to begin with, so don’t go throwing stones.”
“Big words, my friend.” Then, as if the past few minutes had never transpired, Logan picked up his beer, took a swallow of it, and proceeded to dish eggs onto a plate, just as some toast popped out of the toaster with a perky clank. “Hungry?”
“Not with you around.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Logan said, dropping a plate full of food onto the counter. “Do I disgust you?”
Eli scoffed. “Do you care?”
Logan glanced away from him, pursing his lips briefly. “Look, what do you want?”
“What do I want?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
“You really are unbelievable, Echolls.”
“Are you waiting for a written apology? A compensation check?”
“I’d like for you to get the hell out of my face,” Eli snapped.
“Sorry,” Logan replied, curling his lip, “no can do.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, pendejo, but this ain’t exactly Neptune High. So what the hell makes you think you can come in here and act like you own the place? It sure as hell isn’t your sparkling personality, or your great prospects. You ain’t king of the hill anymore-And even if you were, it’d be a pretty small fuckin’ hill.”
“Jesus,” Logan said with a sigh, shaking his head, a small, inscrutable smile on his face. He finished off his beer and set it down on the counter. “Look, I’ve got a hangover like you’ve never even had in your worst nightmares, and things are looking pretty shitty in the harsh light of day, so humor me, why don’t you, and eat your breakfast like a good boy.”
Eli leaned back to take a good look at Logan. He looked thoroughly worn out, hair messy, suit wrinkled every which way, dark smears under his bloodshot eyes. Whatever vitriol he’d been exercising on Eli a minute ago seemed to have burned out. Eli considered the ground he’d lose if he gave in, but it was no good. He took the plate from the counter and sat down at the table. The table had been cleared and a glance at the dish rack confirmed that Logan had done his dishes.
“Now that’s what I like to see,” Logan said as he put the rest of the food onto the other plate. “Want something to drink?”
“Milk.”
“Isn’t that sweet.” The way Logan stuck out his lips when he said this was, surprisingly, not as irritating as it should have been.
“Hey, man, you gotta have your calcium.”
“Thank you for that public service announcement. As for me, I’m having another beer. Hair of the dog, you know.” A moment later, he set a tall glass of milk in front of Eli and sat down across the table.
The food wasn’t bad, the eggs a little rubbery, but no worse than what Eli cooked for himself. They ate without speaking, hardly even looking at each other, the scraping of their forks the only noise. Eli was keenly aware of Logan’s presence across the table, could practically smell him, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
When Eli put the last of his breakfast in his mouth, Logan got up. “Here,” he said, taking the plates and the empty glass. He put them in the sink, pushed up his sleeved, and quickly washed the dishes. Eli leaned back in his chair and marveled at the sight. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he mused as Logan dried his hands.
Logan chuckled and tossed the towel onto the counter. “That must be my cue. Have to leave before you get all mushy.”
Eli snorted. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Logan picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on. Then he stepped forward and put one hand on Eli’s chest, easing him back in the chair. Before Eli could shove him off, Logan leaned down and caught him in a searing kiss. The longer it went on, and the more Eli let himself get drawn into it, the less he wanted Logan to leave. But then Logan pulled back and, with a quick nod, let himself out of Eli’s apartment.
Logan was willing to admit to himself that maybe that last kiss had been a mistake. But, then again, Weevil wasn’t chasing him down the street with a crowbar . . . and his eyelashes had looked so long as he watched Logan leave . . . it just couldn’t be helped. Probably nothing would come of it. He’d never see Eli Navarro again in his life.
Once he was out on the street, he realized that there was a fatal flaw in his plan to beat a hasty retreat from the Navarro household. He still wasn’t exactly sure where he’d parked his car. But, he told himself, it was a nice morning, and he could afford to take a walk around the neighborhood until he found the Porsche.
On balance, it didn’t take long to find his car. He was pleased to find it ticketed but intact. He tossed the ticket into a nearby trashcan and guided the car back down the bright, early-morning streets.
Back at the hotel, Logan let himself into his room and quickly shucked off his clothes. He turned on the shower and stepped under the scalding water with a sense of relief. As he stood there, letting the water pound against his stiff muscles, he wondered what he’d been thinking the night before. The short answer, he had to admit, was not much. He’d been pretty far gone, all things considered, so maybe he shouldn’t worry too much about what he’d done. But on the other hand, he couldn’t deny that he found Weevil genuinely magnetic. The feel of his warm body, the faint smell of engine oil, those delicate eyelashes . . . He also couldn’t deny that he’d had thoughts like this one or two times before, back in high school. What would that smooth head feel like under his palms? Would those expressive eyebrows draw together as he came? Was it really so strange that Logan sort of did want to see Weevil again?
After his shower, Logan dried off, put on a fresh pair of boxers, took two aspirin with a tall glass of water, and went to sleep.
He woke around sunset, feeling considerably more human than he had when he arrived back at the hotel. He took a piss and pulled on a robe before calling room service and ordering himself some dinner.
Once his formidable hunger had been assuaged, he called the front desk for his messages. He had three messages from his lawyers and one from his secretary, each frantically reminding him that he had a nine-thirty meeting with the bank tomorrow that could not afford to be missed. There was a fourth message from Dick Casablancas, which amounted to Dick insisting they hang out while he was in town. Of all the things Logan desperately did not want to do while he was in Neptune, meeting up with Dick came second only to hobnobbing with Madison Sinclair and her brain-dead ex-linebacker husband.
But Logan wasn’t going to worry about that until tomorrow morning. For the time being, all that he wanted to do was lie back down and watch a little television while his dinner settled.
“A little television” turned into the sub-par Pierce Brosnan version of “The Thomas Crown Affair,” then “Showboat,” and, finally, “Erotic Confessions 12: Too Hot to Handle” on Cinemax at four in the morning. Unfortunately, Logan was too exhausted to really enjoy the “sizzling adult series about a sexy author whose fans write her letters detailing their erotic experiences.” He requested his wakeup call from the near-catatonic night clerk around five AM, and fell asleep to the chirpy sounds of morning children’s programming.
When he was woken three hours later, it was an unpleasant affair, but Logan knew it had to be done. He got up, took a quick shower, and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, cursing his father’s name at every step. By nine he was handing his number to the valet outside the Neptune Grand.
He arrived at Neptune Bank & Trust at nine-twenty-five sharp, and was shown into an office by a pert secretary in a grey suit.
By eleven-thirty, he was newly possessed of eleven million dollars, and decided to spend a little bit of his windfall on a nice lunch. He drove himself to the nearest In & Out and stopped at a liquor store on the way to the beach. He sat down near the surf and ate his burgers with red wine straight out of the bottle. The sand was warm under the early autumn sun, and a crisp salt breeze passed by, leaving his skin sticky.
By the time he’d polished off all of the burgers and most of the wine, it started to seem like a good idea to call Weevil and ask him over for dinner. He called information on his cell phone and said, “Neptune, California. Yeah, I’d like the number for Wee-Sorry, Eli Navarro. What is it?” He repeated it silently to himself, and when the operator said, “Would you like me to connect you, sir?” he realized that maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to call Weevil, so he quickly said, “No, no, don’t bother,” and hung up. All the same, he programmed the number into his cell phone under “Weevil.”
Logan sat still for a little longer, then decided the rest of the day was officially a wash. He was too tired and too drunk to be of any use for the rest of the day. So, sluggish from the sun and beer, he picked up his garbage and trekked back to the parking lot. He got into his car and drove carefully through town to the Neptune Grand.
When Eli returned from taking Brutus on a walk, he put on the TV and looked in the fridge for something to eat. There was nothing but some week-old enchiladas, which he just didn’t trust. So he got out the milk and the cereal, and sat down on the sofa to a bowl of Corn Pops. It reminded him of weekday afternoons the year he turned six, just after his father started making enough money to afford cable and right before he was pinched for drug running. He and Chardo and the other kids would sit on the couch and eat cereal for a snack and watch the programming on Nickelodeon, enjoying the luxury while they could.
After dinner, Eli did some dishes and decided to turn in early. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking over the day, the slights from snotty 09ers at the Gas & Sip, the demeaning way people spoke to him at the auto shop-If he thought much more about it, he’d be too angry to sleep. Huffing, he turned over and tucked his pillow more securely under his head. But the damage was done. Tired as he was, he was too irritated to sleep. So, knowing he had to get up early for a double-shift tomorrow, he resorted to the old stand-by.
Eli sat up and retrieved the swimsuit catalog from the drawer of his bedside table, slipping his hand into his boxers once he’d settled on a particularly tantalizing spread. But instead of meditating on the latest runway model’s pert tits barely contained in a skimpy bikini top, Eli got to thinking about the way Logan Echolls’ breath had ghosted over his throat when he leaned down to kiss him yesterday morning. He thought about the hot press of Logan’s mouth and the way it’d sent a burst of pleasure through his gut. He thought about Logan dropping down between his legs and sliding Eli’s cock into his mouth. And he thought-what was the harm in entertaining the idea, really, as long as it was just an idea?
He brought himself off quickly, the toes of his right foot curling so tight his foot cramped. When he’d cleaned himself up, he dropped back into bed, relaxed and sated, and fell asleep.
In truth, Logan didn’t really know why he was lingering in Neptune. He’d done his business, and it wasn’t as if he had anyone to entertain him around here. In fact, the longer he stayed the higher the risk was that he’d get roped into seeing Dick or somebody else he’d rather slit his wrists than socialize with. But all the same, he couldn’t quite bring himself to go home.
Home. It was odd, thinking of Sacramento as home when Neptune had all the eerie familiarity of a ghost town revisited. It wasn’t exactly home now, any more than the house he’d grown up in in Malibu was home, but still he felt some bond, or at least felt as if he should have a bond.
He drove back to the Gas & Sip, thinking that maybe what keeping him in Neptune was the same thing causing him to drive an unnecessary distance across town to fill up his tank. He didn’t like to admit it, but as he got out of the car he couldn’t help gazing in through the glass doors to see if Weevil was inside.
He filled up the Cayenne’s tank and headed into the convenience store to pay, since the credit slot on the pump was still broken. He wandered up and down the narrow aisles, casting his gaze over at the counter. He collected some Funyons, a bottle of 7-Up, and a bag of Reisens before he resigned himself to the fact that Weevil just wasn’t working right now, and that he wouldn’t be coming to take over the next shift, either.
When he dropped his purchases onto the counter, the kid who rang him up looked at him with vague recognition. Logan smiled curtly and said, “Pump 3,” before handing the cashier his credit card. But as he signed his receipt, he had an idea. “Hey,” he said as amiably as he could when dealing with the hoi polloi, “you know a guy name of-uh, Eli? Eli Navarro?”
The kid looked surprised. “Sure,” he said.
“Is he around? He said he was working today.”
“Oh, um . . . I don’t think so. I-I could check the schedule?”
“Would you mind?” Logan asked with a falsely sheepish smile. “I was supposed to meet him today, and, silly me, I guess I got his schedule wrong.”
The cashier stepped into the back room briefly, and came back. “He worked a double yesterday, but isn’t in today. He’ll be in around tomorrow, though.”
“Damn,” Logan said, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I’ve got his cell phone number, if that’d help.”
“Hey, man, that’d be great. I’ve got his home phone, but, you know-”
The kid nodded understandingly and read Logan the number. “And, uh-He works part-time at European Motors on 24th St. That’s probably where he is right now.”
Logan gave the kid a big smile, picked up his bag, and said, “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”
As he got back into the Porsche, he chuckled to himself. “Well,” he said, starting the motor and pulling onto the street, “damned if I didn’t learn a thing or two from that rascal Veronica Mars after all.”