Veronica Mars Page #5

I really don't think that you should

trust her. She seems kind of skeezy.

- This is Veronica.

- Veronica.

Hi, it's Gayle Buckley.

I'm so sorry to call so late.

How would you feel about coming to

work for us here at Truman-Mann?

I would feel pretty great about

that actually. Thank you.

We need you to start Monday.

Is that a problem?

Where's your date?

She got them to play

a Bonnie single.

Awake and away we go

To find it again

Well, on the bright side...

you are not on a date

with a murderer.

I do take some comfort in that.

How do you know?

Bouncer confirmed it.

Apparently she was outside the club, and

performed Medea when the news broke.

So where do we go from here?

Back to New York, I'm afraid.

I, um... I just accepted my very

first big, grown-up lawyering job.

Good for you, Veronica.

I don't envy opposing counsel.

I really wanted to see this through

with you. To find Carrie's killer.

I can ease your mind there.

- Her dad did it.

- I'm listening.

You know that new tattoo she got?

The Japanese symbol for serendipity?

That's the name of her dad's firm.

The dad she fired as her manager.

She knew he was gonna try to kill her,

she implicated him before the fact.

Her dad was in London.

I checked.

Last theory:

Something awful from Bonnie's

past has come back to haunt her.

Have you guys even

listened to her new album?

Confessional?

The whole thing is about coming clean.

She's racked with guilt.

She went to Catholic school

until the tenth grade.

And she changed her

name from Bishop.

You get what I'm saying.

Not a clue.

She boned a priest.

She was on the verge of telling the

world, the Catholic church silenced her.

What?

Sweet dreams.

I am so sorry.

And so grateful. Heh.

Don't be.

I was into it.

We're going skating next week.

Veronica, you flew across

the country to help me.

This was easy.

Um, we're going out to

dinner tomorrow night.

You should come. Me, Mac, Wallace.

My whole fan club?

No, I don't think so.

So you're not going to the

reunion either, then?

I circled that date in my calendar

10 years ago and vowed to skip it.

You need a ride to the airport?

Promised that to my dad.

I guess this is it.

We should take the long way home.

Do I get a chip for this?

Pouring the drink.

Swishing it.

Smelling it.

Leaving the bar

without taking a sip?

Is this what getting

clean feels like?

My daughter, the big-shot

New York lawyer.

You're gonna have your own office.

You have your own office.

You'll be respected.

You're respected.

- You're the George Bailey of Neptune.

- Ha.

You know the difference between

a lawyer and a prostitute?

A prostitute stops screwing

you when you're dead.

I got a million of them.

Tell me one private detective joke.

Uh...

- I thought so.

- No. Okay, smart guy.

Which one of these

goes over better?

"Dad, I'm marrying a lawyer"...

or "Dad, I'm marrying

a private dick"?

Okay, no one says "dick" anymore.

But what's the difference between a

porcupine and lawyers in a Porsche?

On a porcupine...

the pricks are on the outside.

And a howdy-do to you.

- What's up, V?

- Wow, you guys look good.

You've been to Mama

Leone's before, right?

It's laminated menus and

"I Heart Lobster" bibs.

Hey, I've got something

to show you.

Look, this is from the

talent show our senior year.

The video yearbook

advisor let me see it.

That one is Carrie Bishop. I don't

know who this other girl is.

It's Susan Knight.

Carrie's best friend.

Also dead, strangely enough.

Boating accident...

the year I left for Stanford.

Why are you showing me this?

You'll see.

Della Pugh, the girl whose

file you asked me to dig up...

Come again?

Ignore the dick.

Check this out.

Talent show the year

after we graduated.

She does the same duet, solo.

Then when people boo...

I'm gonna burn this place down!

They didn't let her

come back to school.

She had to take all her

finals as take-home tests.

But her alibi is solid.

I don't know, let's mull this over

while we're wearing lobster bibs.

Um, actually...

When Number One

Daughter was young...

her skills were sharp

like blade of sword.

Now, brain dull,

like blade of plow.

- Heh.

- What the f...?

No.

Yes, ma'am. We are

going to the reunion.

No, I'm not going.

And you can't make me.

You have to go.

We've arranged for Piz to fly in.

It's our gift to you.

Surprise.

Pirates!

Ahoy!

We're here because...

Because you're a high-powered

New York City lawyer now.

You should rub that in

these people's faces.

And because Alexis

Link said that, uh...

if we were still single in

10 years we'd get creative.

And there she is now.

Hey. As a high school

nerd success story...

it is a moral imperative that

I take my own victory lap.

Ahoy.

In a lesser known epic poem, Dante's

Inferno 2:
Hell Freezes Over...

10 years after escaping the

nine circles, Dante returns.

You know, for old times' sake.

Have a couple shots,

catch up with the gang...

Name?

see if Lucifer's still a b*tch.

- Veronica Mars.

- No way.

You look so different.

I barely recognize you.

Really? This look of disdain

isn't ringing any bells?

Let me try looking like

I think you're an a**hole.

Wow.

You are still a total

loser with no class.

How not shocking.

Class is still clearly a

guiding force in your life.

- I'm shocked you even came to this.

- Is that so?

I knew you'd be here.

Tell the truth, you've been sitting

there since graduation, haven't you?

Don't worry about her.

They really should have a

bar right by the entrance.

You can do this, champ.

Oh, look who it is!

Most Likely to Blog

and Class Buzzkill.

Or was it Cutest Smile?

Best Personality. You are

just who I was looking for...

Most-Likely-to-Know-Where-

I-Can-Find-the-Bar.

Well, look no further, pilgrim.

- Gross.

- No.

- What?

- No, no, no, I just feel bad for her.

- You know what I mean?

- Oh, my God, Veronica Mars.

- Hi, Gia.

- So many mixed emotions right now.

I kind of hated you, like,

a lot, but I don't anymore.

I'm trying to remember my progress.

Blaming you for telling the world...

that my dad was a pedophile is what my

therapist calls "misplaced aggression," so...

Basically, we're totally cool.

Just so you know. Hi, by the way.

- You look great.

- Thank you.

Drop by my place while you're

in town. We have to hang.

Wait. Come to my after-party.

You have to, I mean it. And you...

Um...

You should come too, friend.

- Wow. That hair.

- Ha, ha. Gia, Gia. Stu's gonna get a plane.

Okay, I'm not screwing around.

Where's the bar in this joint?

I'll find us a table.

- Here you go.

- Thanks.

Oh-ho! No way. How random is this?

- Corny!

- Dude!

- How's it hanging, brah?

- Aw.

You know, I'm doing my deal,

taking time for what's mine.

I've been making these

duct tape wallets.

- Pulling in kasheesh selling them on Etsy.

- Wow.

Yeah. Um, I make some out of

maps, if you're interested.

Um... Totally. Uh...

- You know what, I need to say hi to...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes