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Logan lays on his bunk staring at the ceiling lazily strumming his guitar. It'd been a long tiring day. Two shows back to back. First an afternoon matinee and then an evening show without much of a break in between. By the time the last of the fans had shuffled out of the autograph session, the bus was loaded, and they were finally rolling, it had been nearly midnight. He's not sure what time zone they're in.
As he plays, the rumbling of the engine and the rhythm of the road under the tires slowly lull him towards sleep. In his relaxed state he's almost figured out the chord progression to fit with the new lyrics from Carrie when the bus comes to a screeching halt, nearly dumping him through the curtain into the hallway.
"What the hell, Vinnie?!"
"Sorry, Logan! Carrie added this stop to meet up with the new security detail before tomorrow's show. The turn snuck up on me." Vinnie replies back from the driver's seat.
The grizzled driver had been with the band long before Logan joined. In Logan's five years as guitarist the two have become something resembling friends.
Logan could care less about meeting the new detail as long as the job gets done. Carrie needs them to keep her ex off her back. The most recent restraining order was proving ineffective and the asshole had disturbed several of the band's recent meet and greets trying to get to Carrie.
Settling back into his bunk he continues working to perfect the chord progression. It's more challenging in a still bus. The activity around him has become much more distracting. He can hear Carrie and Casey arguing in the back bedroom, and the TV is on in the front ‒ no doubt some cooking show that Dick has fallen asleep watching.
Logan's lucky to have fallen into this gig. They work consistently, turning out albums and touring nearly year round. It was just the break he'd needed five years ago ‒ it got him out of Neptune and away from his father. Carrie writes the lyrics, Logan and Casey write the music, and Dick is a genius on sticks.
Logan loves the rush of performing. The energy. The noise of the crowd. The adulation of the fans. He'll never get enough. He's found his calling.
Suddenly he realizes Carrie has moved up the aisle past his bunk toward the front and is talking animatedly with a new voice. A new female voice. He can't help his curiosity and lifts the edge of the curtain to peek through the gap. The new voice is shorter than Carrie who is blocking his view, but he catches a glimpse of blond hair.
Casey, stumbling from the back bedroom past Logan, grumbles, "What's so important it couldn't wait five minutes, Care?"
As Carrie turns Logan catches sight of a pretty blond woman dressed in snug jeans and a black leather jacket.
"Case! Come meet our new head of security." She gestures to each of them in turn, "Veronica Mars, this is our bass player, Casey Gant. Case, Veronica. She'll be joining us on this last leg of the tour to deal with Mercer."
Logan groans to himself. This little thing is going to handle the asshole? Yeah. Right! Too tired to deal with new people and security protocols he rolls towards the outside wall, sets his guitar gently against it, closes his eyes, and is asleep almost immediately.
As Veronica watches the show from the stage wings she observes each band member in turn. Dick, with his long shaggy blond hair and feverish drumming makes her think of Animal from the Muppets. Carrie’s long sleek dark hair shimmers in the blue light as she sings in her smooth clear voice. She uses her beauty to her advantage, working up the crowd with seemingly little effort. The vibrating bass from Casey’s guitar thrums the floor under Veronica's feet.
On the opposite side of the stage, the lead guitarist takes a solo. She watches his long fingers work the fretboard effortlessly. Like a caress, his large hand strums the strings. The results are mesmerizing. Veronica is no musician, but she knows talent when she sees it and this guy has it. It doesn't hurt that his broad, fit body curves sensually around his instrument as he grins and winks and works the crowd up into a frenzy.
She finds herself hypnotized watching him. She hasn't yet met him in person as he was already asleep when she boarded the bus early this morning, and when she woke he had already left for a band interview at a local radio station. Since then the flurry of activity to set the stage, complete mic and sound checks, and a pre-show autograph session had kept everyone too busy for introductions.
She had observed him from across the room during the autograph session. He looked each fan in the eye and talked with every single one. He seemed invested in each person he met.
Currently he finishes his solo, flicks a guitar pick into the crowd, and nods at Carrie as he steps up to his microphone. Their voices blending on the chorus send shivers up Veronica's spine.
It's evident they work well together. Even between songs their banter and teasing at the mics hint at a long standing camaraderie. Veronica wonders if there's ever been anything more between them; then chastises herself for even allowing something to bother her that is so irrelevant to why she is here.
This job is all about Carrie. Even before she'd joined the tour this morning Veronica had worked several days doing a complete workup on Mercer Hayes. Carrie’s ex is a real piece of work. Veronica had been able to find him in a dingy trailer outside Hattiesburg, Mississippi where she managed to attach trackers to both his truck and cell phone. If he gets within one mile of Carrie, Veronica will know immediately.
In the meantime, she's hanging with the band somewhere north of New Orleans. She's never fancied herself a country music fan, but this band seems to have its own flavor and so far she's really enjoying it. The bluegrass style harmonies of the vocals backed by the rocking guitar and drums is a unique combination. It doesn't hurt that the lead guitarist is easy on the eyes. She'll have to be careful not to get too distracted from the job.
"Great set man, your solo was hot tonight!"
The two friends are approaching one another between the bus and venue. Logan spins as Dick passes by to address him briefly before continuing on to the bar.
"Thanks man. Felt good tonight for sure."
They'd played this tavern before, the large dance floor adds a level of energy to the performance that Logan particularly enjoys. He knows the owner will keep the bar open for about another hour. The parking lot has thinned out considerably already.
They'll be sleeping on the bus again as they travel to the next town and while that's never ideal, a drink or two will help calm him after the adrenaline rush of the show.
He orders a whiskey, neat, then spots Carrie across the room and heads her way. Some nights are better than others and everything clicks on stage ‒ tonight had been one of those nights and he wants to celebrate.
As he approaches, Carrie leans over to pick something up and Logan notices the new security chick sitting across from her at the high top table. Valerie? Victoria? He can't remember her name. She's been hovering all day and he'd hoped to avoid the awkward introduction. But now they've seen him and he can't turn around.
"Logan, get over here, you need to say hi to Veronica."
Veronica! I knew it was a V name. I could call her V to avoid any embarrassment when I forget again.
"You're the guitar player."
He only just stops himself from rolling his eyes, nods instead in greeting. "Yep, that's me, the guitar player."
"Great show tonight."
That reminds him why he's here in the first place and he turns to Carrie. "Man, Care, we killed it tonight. The crowd was really feeling it!"
Carrie gets it. She's all smiles and exaggerated hands. "It was awesome. Whatever you added at the end of the solo on "Charmed" really worked tonight. You should always do that." She punctuates her words with a friendly poke to his forearm.
He takes a deep swallow of his drink and notices the new chick watching him intently. It's a bit disconcerting, like she's reading him, and figuring out all his secrets. Suddenly uncomfortable, he shifts in his seat.
He has to admit, she's quite stunning. But he learned long ago that women are only after one of two things ‒ his money or his name. Quite frankly, he just wants to make music.
"So, how's a little thing like you going to handle the asshole?" He reaches for a tortilla chip off the tray between the girls and pops it into his mouth.
She winces almost imperceptibly, "Oh, don't you worry that pretty head of yours, I have my ways."
"You hear that Care, she thinks I'm pretty." He leans back on his stool, hands clasped behind his head.
"Everyone thinks you're pretty Lo' ‒ everyone." She lays a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she slides from her stool. "I think I'm ready to head back to the bus, you?"
He empties his glass and decides, "Naw, I'm going to have one more. Jim Beam, 9 outta 10 roadies recommend it for a good night's rest." He raises his glass at a passing server and turns back to the table. Carrie’s already wandered off shaking her head at his antics, but V is still sitting there eyeing him. Figures.
"You don't like me much, do you?" She's studying him.
"I just met you, I don't know you. I reserve judgment."
"Want to get to know me? We could play 20 questions," she suggests.
He shakes his head at her and changes the topic, "Where'd you sleep last night?"
"Under you." She says it with just a hint of suggestion and a raised brow as if in challenge. He's surprised by the image that flashes in his head of her under him in his bunk, blond hair splayed over his pillow.
He covers quickly with a lift to one side of his mouth. He should've known, the bunk under his is the only available one right now.
"Ever been on a tour before?”
"Not like this. I did a presidential campaign once, but you're my first…” she sighs on a pause before continuing, “...band."
She's good. She doesn't crack. Just keeps looking him in the eye. Suddenly he's fighting the urge to reach out and run his fingers through her hair. Is it silky? It looks silky.
He shakes his head to clear it and accepts his drink from the server. "Where was Casey tonight? He's usually hanging with Carrie after a set."
"I don't know. He wasn't around when Carrie offered to buy me a drink to welcome me to the team." Logan figures Casey and Dick have fired up the Playstation on the bus to chill out after the show.
"First thing you need to know about band tours, the bar? Will be someplace different tomorrow night. You just follow the sound of revelers."
She smiles at him and he experiences an odd feeling in his chest. A tightness. Jesus, I'm too young for chest pains.
Emptying her glass, she hops off her stool. "I'm going to head for the bus. Good night Logan."
"G' night V," he says to her retreating back while admiring the sway of her hips. Damn, I'm screwed!
Less than thirty minutes later Logan is hefting himself into his bunk. From between the gap in her curtain Veronica catches a glimpse of his abs as his snug t-shirt rides up a bit before he disappears into the bunk above her.
She feels the heat rise up in her cheeks as she thinks about their conversation at the bar earlier. Under him! Where the hell did that come from? I should not be flirting with the guitarist. I should NOT be flirting at all.
She should be sleeping - they have a long day ahead of them tomorrow. Instead she’s wide awake. Hyper aware of every sound and movement from the bunk above her. Is he asleep already? She sighs and rolls over in a futile attempt to get comfortable in the narrow bunk.
When Logan wakes early the next morning, after a restless night, he thinks he smells bacon. That can't be right. He sticks his head through the curtain and looks toward the kitchenette at the front of the bus. There she is, Veronica, in a long night shirt, her hair piled on top of her head, standing at the small counter stirring a bowl of batter, bacon sizzling on the stove top. Since when do we have a frying pan on the bus? He jumps from his bunk in only his boxers and heads to the coffee pot.
"Mornin'." He says, squeezing past her in the tight quarters, scratching his chest with one hand and reaching for a mug with the other. He pours his coffee then turns to face her, leaning back on the small countertop behind him. She's standing, facing him, mouth agape, forgetting to stir her batter.
"Ahh… hey, nice tatt."
He smiles knowingly and glances behind at his shoulder blade as he pulls his arm across his chest.
"Ya' like that? Yeah, it's pretty cool."
He loves his tattoo. It's an image of his guitar. A ribbon of music notes wrapped around it. Music saved him, and he immortalized the image on his shoulder. He turns to find her staring and very still.
"You okay?"
"Huh?" She shakes her head from side to side. "Oh yeah, I'm…I'm good. You hungry?"
"I don't normally eat breakfast, just coffee.” He gestures with his mug. “Sure does smell good though."
She turns back to the stove, plates the bacon, and pours a generous portion of batter into the sizzling pan. Logan takes advantage of her diverted attention to admire her legs.
Veronica is trying to stay focused on her pancake. Hot damn. Someone works out. I want to lick maple syrup off his abs.
She tenses as he squeezes by her again. Just then the bus hits a bump and swerves left knocking them into each other, her back to his front and he braces himself on the cupboard in front of her, his muscled arms clenched on either side of her head, coffee mug still gripped in one hand. She’s not sure how he managed not to spill it all over her. She holds her breath. He moves his free hand toward her.
"It is silky, just as I imagined." The low timbre of his words, barely a sigh against her ear, elicit shivers through her whole body.
And then suddenly he's moving, down the aisle away from her. She takes in his magnificent back. His tattoo rippling, the music notes vibrating as he moves. Jesus Christ!
He’s only up this early because a local magazine has been scheduled to do a spread for their latest issue. Logan’s not usually one for photos. The memories of family portrait sessions gone awry has left a bad taste in his mouth. He spends the morning grumbling and complaining and wishing he could’ve had a bit more sleep and some time to work on the new songs. Tensions are high. They’re all stretched thin and looking forward to a few days off next week to catch up on sleep.
When they get back to the bus at lunch time something doesn’t feel right. He notices as they approach that someone has written “Carrie is a skank” across the side of the bus in spray paint. The asshole strikes again. Logan turns to question Veronica as he gestures wildly to the bus, “I thought you were supposed to be taking care of this? We can’t drive this to the next city tonight."
Veronica’s already on her phone talking urgently with someone he thinks she addressed as “Mac”. When she hangs up she does a sweep of the perimeter and interior before allowing the rest of them back on board.
“I’ll arrange for a crew to come out and get this cleaned up while you’re on stage tonight. It’ll be taken care of before we pull out. In the meantime, I’ve got my tech department looking into why I wasn't alerted if Mercer was in the area. Maybe he hired someone to do this?”
Carrie shakes her head, “That doesn’t sound like Mercer. I don’t think he has the funds to hire out, and I really doubt he’d consider that option anyway. He's not what you'd call clever or creative.”
“He takes great joy in torturing Carrie,” Casey agrees, “I’m sure he’d want the pleasure of handling it himself.” Casey paces up and down the bus aisle as he talks, clenching and unclenching his hands like he’s spoiling for a fight. “I don’t like it. It’s not safe to have Carrie on stage if he’s close by. We need to find him and stop him.”
Logan turns to Veronica, “Look, this seems to be escalating, and fast. Are you going to have any additional muscle at the performances? How are you planning to keep him away from her?”
Veronica glances at her phone, then back at Logan and Casey who stops pacing and wraps his arms protectively around Carrie from behind. “I assure you all, I’ve got it covered. Our firm specializes in this kind of thing. We’re good because we blend. If you don’t know my guys are there then they’re doing their jobs. Mercer will not be able to get within three blocks of this place tonight.” And with that she turns and leaves the bus, passing Dick and Vinnie on her way out. She's already accepting a call before she clears the steps.
“Hey Mac, what’s up?”
“Bond, we may have a problem. All the trackers you placed are accounted for and working properly so either he’s driving something other than his own vehicle and left his phone at home, or he’s got someone working for him or with him.”
“Yeah, hiring it out doesn’t seem like his MO. Can you look into any aliases and see if he’s rented any vehicles in the last few days? Also, we need to run the close contact list again. I only have a few hours before show time and I can’t afford another surprise attack.”
“Sure thing, V. Anything else?”
“Any idea what’s taking Weevil and Wallace so long to get here?”
“No. But I'll check in with them as well.”
“I need them posted on the stage doors tonight, but I need to coordinate that with venue security ‒ I have a meeting with their head guy in 20. I'll bring them up to speed. I had hoped the guys would be here by then.” Veronica sighs deeply and turns back to face the bus, hoping she's not in over her head with this one.
It occurs to her that they were across town when the vandalism occurred. Perhaps Mercer was able to pull this off and still stay outside the tracker's parameters. Feeling better about her chances to catch this guy she strides confidently to her meeting with the venue security team.
Mic and sound check go off without a hitch, but Logan is feeling increasingly anxious as show time approaches. The venue put out a fancy spread for the band and crew for an early dinner but he is finding it difficult to stomach anything.
He glances around. Dick is eating and carrying on with a few of the crew members as usual. He isn’t one to let too much bother him. Carrie and Casey have plates of food in front of them, but neither of them are eating. They have their heads together and appear to be deep in conversation. Logan studies the rest of the room. No one is here that shouldn’t be. Everyone is with the band. The sound crew and tech guys are all accounted for. Where is security?
As the opening band finishes their set and Logan approaches the stage from the wings he notices Veronica in the shadows talking into her headset excitedly. She had been right earlier, her team does a good job at blending, he’d been on the look out all evening and hadn’t noticed anyone that appeared out of place.
The chords of the opening number vibrate under his fingers and he feels eyes on him. Before he can dwell on it for long he’s pulled under by the music. For the next two hours he is all about the music and the pull of the fans. It's like surfing ‒ he rides the waves of adrenaline from one song to the next. Playing off of Carrie’s vocals, hamming it up with Casey during the solos, and jamming to the driving beat of Dick’s drums. He is consumed by the music, all other cares slip away.
Veronica had switched positions for tonight’s show. She tries to tell herself it gives her a better vantage point of the floor, but really who is she trying to fool ‒ it's a better view of Logan. She can tell that he is lost to the music. And it is sexy as hell.
Tonight he is wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt. His powerful arms are nothing short of elegant as he works. His tattoo is just visible on his left shoulder blade. And his back, dear Lord, his back! Veronica forces herself to turn away. She scans the area and checks her phone. No alerts. No alarms.
Later, as the encore applause dies down and the lights cut out Veronica moves quickly across the dim stage to Carrie.
“Come on. We need to get to the bus and get everyone clear as quickly as possible.” She ushers the band through the backstage area and out to the back parking lot before the first fan has left the venue.
“I think it’s best if you four just hang out right here for the duration. Let the crew handle the break down and load out. The faster we can get on the road the safer Carrie will be.”
She checks her phone as she moves to the driver’s seat to keep an eye on things in the meantime. She can feel four pairs of eyes on her back.
“Dude, who else needs a drink?” Dick is the first to break the tense silence as he pulls down a bottle and four glasses. The band sits around the small table and waits. It's a very different mood from the post show high of the night before.
About an hour later, Vinnie boards the bus and indicates that the trailers are loaded and the crew is ready to pull out. Veronica joins the band but declines the offer of a drink. Slowly, one by one, they each drift off to their bunks for the night.
The next morning while eating her breakfast her phone chimes. Mercer! She opens her tracking app to find the blinking dot about a mile south and slowly getting closer. She moves carefully to the front of the bus.
"Hey, Vinnie, are we almost to the venue?"
"Yes sirree, ma'am."
She studies her app.
"Listen, I need you to continue past the venue and pull into the police station. It's three blocks further. Ok?"
"Sure thing, boss!"
Veronica calls ahead to the station and reports Mercer’s violation of the order of protection. She also tells the officer that he is currently following behind the bus and they'll lead him directly to the station.
When Logan emerges from his bunk to head to the shower, he expects to already be at the venue. Instead, he looks out the window to see two uniformed officers leading the asshole away in handcuffs. A small crowd has gathered on the sidewalk outside the bus, and Veronica and Carrie are each giving statements to NOPD officers. Well I'll be damned. She did it.
He dresses quickly and joins the others outside the bus. He catches Veronica’s eye, and they share a smile. He nods in her direction feeling oddly proud of her. Statements given, they all reboard the bus and he joins Veronica on the short couch across from the kitchen. The tenseness of the night before has eased and everyone is in a jovial mood.
"That was some mighty fine security work."
"Thanks. I lucked out that his timing was bad!"
She glances down at her phone before shifting to put it in her pocket. Logan catches a whiff of coconut shampoo and… toasted marshmallows?
Their hands, which he's certain weren't close a moment ago are just barely touching and he glances down to see the goose bumps on Veronica's arm. He slowly lifts his pinky and strokes hers gently. The touch is barely a graze, but the electricity running up his arm cannot be missed.
She looks over at him and he notices the pink flush on her cheeks, "Hey, I'm looking forward to the show tonight. I was a bit distracted last night with all the excitement, but I'll be posted on your side of the stage."
He winks, "Didn’t get your fill last night, huh?”
She rolls her eyes and grins. “Meet me after, help me find the bar?"
"Sounds good."
"Yeah."
The bar tonight is nestled next door to the venue they played. It's small and dark and not too crowded this close to closing time.
Logan leans across the table to hand Veronica a second drink. “So, what’s next for you? Another campaign tour?” She lifts an eyebrow in response.
“I was rather enjoying this gig actually."
"Do tell." He encourages, smiling.
"Yeah. Carrie hired me for the duration of the tour.”
“Did she now?” His eyes drift to her lips and he notices how close they suddenly are.
“She neglected to share that with you?”
“She did.”
"You know, coordinating with venue security, scheduling, that kind of thing. Seems I’m taking up permanent residence under you. At least for the time being.”
“I might have something to say about that.” His lips touch hers and he kisses her, shifting on his barstool to deepen the kiss. When they part he continues, “I may want to be under you.”
She grins. Yes!
They laugh and tease their way back to the bus. He spins her down the aisle kissing her as they go and lifts her easily into his bunk before he levers himself up behind her and through the curtain. She giggles and it's music to his ears.
Later that night Logan lays on his bunk staring at the ceiling lazily running his hand up and down the back of the beautiful blond laying atop his chest. He holds Veronica close on the narrow bunk. His hand skims over her silky hair.
It's been a long tiring couple days. He's not sure what time zone they're in, but the bus engine rumbling beneath him, the warmth of the woman in his arms, and the rhythm of the road under the tires are slowly lulling him to sleep.
