Текст книги "Games Frat Boys Play "

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 2

Iswallowed and steeled my nerve, resisting the urge to get out my cell phone.

You wanted to do this on your own, I reminded myself. You can’t call Jeff and Blair now and beg them to take you to Beta Kappa. They’ll think you’re an idiot.

It was the first night of Rush, and I was standing at the end of Fraternity Row. Ten fraternity houses facing each other across a pedestrian mall stood in front of me. Guys were strolling along the sidewalks, a steady stream going in and out of each house. You can do this. This isn’t St. Bernard, this is somewhere you’re going to fit in and have lots of friends. This is why you came to school here. Jeff and Blair have thoroughly prepped you on what to say, how to act. You can do this without their help.

I took a deep breath and started walking. Beta Kappa was at the end of Fraternity Row, right across the mall from the Sigma Chi house.

The first week of school had been remarkably easy. None of my classes seemed particularly challenging, as I’d suspected. According to Jeff and Blair, pledge semester would be rough and time-consuming; not having a conflict with studying would make it much easier on me. My main fear with my classes was actually being bored; I’d found myself nodding off a few times in my eight a.m. Comp class. My Biology class was so basic as to be laughable, and my History of Western Civilization class looked to be equally easy. I’d already gotten a good start on my term paper for it. I didn’t think I would have a problem with Algebra—I’d gone much further at St. Bernard in math—and Intro to Sociology looked simple.

I’d bought some new clothes and gotten a haircut. My new clothes fit well, but I hadn’t been able to style my hair the way it looked when I’d left the salon. I finally gave up and didn’t bother with the gel, combing it flat and parted on the side. I thought it looked okay.

Blair and Jeff had offered to take me to Beta Kappa and introduce me to the brothers, but I’d said no. They thought I was crazy, and said so in no uncertain terms.

“I want to get a bid on my own,” I’d insisted. “You guys have done enough for me already.” As I walked now up the mall toward the house, my stomach began to knot up. Stay calm, it’s just a fraternity house, and it IS Rush. They’re going to be nice and friendly because they want people to join. This isn’t St. Bernard. These guys aren’t princes and nobility and the sons of billionaires. These are just normal, typical guys, and they aren’t going to look down their noses at you. It was important to me to get a bid on my own, without any more help from Jeff and Blair. The “Rush boot camp” they’d put me through had already given me a leg up on the other guys rushing. At my insistence, Jeff and Blair had even agreed to not show up for the first night of Rush. I was on my own, and as I walked past the other houses I started to relax. You’re getting yourself all worked up for absolutely no reason. Just because you didn’t fit in at St. Bernard doesn’t mean you aren’t going to fit in at Beta Kappa. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you have a lot to offer, just like Blair and Jeff said. Just be yourself and don’t be nervous, I said to myself over and over as I drew closer and closer to the end of the mall.

And before I knew it, I was standing in front of Beta Kappa.

I swallowed nervously again.

Just go up the walk and inside, I told myself. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Yet in spite of myself, I flashed back to being ten years old and arriving at St. Bernard. I remembered my roommate, a French kid named Guy deMontespan, looking at me as though I were something he’d stepped in. “I am descended from Louis XIV, the glorious Sun King,” he’d said, his lip curling into a sneer, “and they put me in a room with some nobody American?”

It was the last time Guy spoke to me. He’d complained and gotten switched to another room. I wound up with a single room because no one else wanted to be my roommate. And I’d stayed in a single room for eight long, lonely years.

That’s the past, Jordy. No one here knows you were the most unpopular student at St. Bernard. No one here is going to judge you because you don’t have royal blood or because you can’t trace your ancestry back to the Crusades. This is the United States and things like that don’t matter here. Here you’re judged on your merits, and that’s what the brothers will do. You’re an A student. You speak four languages.

And my parents were stinking rich.

I put that thought out of my head. Mom and Dad always drilled into me the importance of standing on my own. So what if I was a failure at making friends at St. Bernard? This was a whole new world. No one here knew I’d been lonely and picked on there. I was making a fresh start.

Maybe I should have come with Blair and Jeff. Why am I so stupid? They already know everyone. They could have introduced me around, and it wouldn’t be like I’m a total stranger.

I shook my head and forced the negativity out. I squared my shoulders, bit my lip, and took a deep breath. The front door of the house was wide open, and I could see a table set up just inside for registering. The house wasn’t like the others on the mall—the others looked like plantation houses with wide verandas and columns. The Beta Kappa house was more modern looking. To the right of the entryway the house was about a story and a half high; the wall facing the mall was all glass but hidden behind curtains. To the left it was two stories high. That was the dormitory side—two floors of rooms to house the brothers.

A group of guys brushed past me and headed up the walk to the front door. This is it, I told myself, and followed them. Just inside the door I could see the entryway into the larger room, and over it was a sign reading WELCOME PROSPECTIVES TO CASINO NIGHT! I could see a couple of blackjack tables set up, and the dealers were relatively attractive young girls. The group of guys who’d passed me had stepped to the side, filling out application forms while a guy seated behind the table was making name tags for them. I took a deep breath and walked up to the table.

The guy making name tags was good looking, wearing a tight red polo shirt over a pair of jeans. His dark hair was gelled so it stood up in the center of his head, and he had a light dusting of pimples on his face. His ears stuck out a bit, and he had a gap between his front two teeth. His own name tag read BRANDON BENSON, RUSH COMMITTEE. He looked up at me and gave me a strained smile. “Hi.” He slid a stapled form and a pen toward me. “Your name?”

“Jordy Valentine,” I replied. He started making out a name tag for me.

“You need to fill out the application,” he said without looking up. He was having trouble fitting VALENTINE on the tag, having to squish TINE onto the end. He handed me the name tag as I filled out the form. It was relatively simple, actually, but I hesitated when I got to the part about my parents’ annual income. I didn’t have a problem with writing 4.0 as my high school grade average (which was what my grades at St. Bernard translated to), and I didn’t have a problem with listing my address at the Alhambra, but my parents’ annual income? I laughed to myself. Truth be told, I actually didn’t know what their annual income was. I hesitated, and said, “Um, Brandon?”

He looked up.

“I don’t know what my parents’ annual income is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Then estimate. It’s not rocket science.” He gave me a strange look.

“Okay,” I replied, scratching my head. Okay, be conservative. If Dad and Mom have assets of about seven hundred million and earn a basic 6% interest per quarter, that would be forty-two million per quarter, which would be about a hundred twenty-five million per year. Pleased with myself, I wrote that amount in the blank and was about to continue filling out the form—the next section was Hobbies and Interests—but paused as I noticed someone else walking up to the back side of the table. I glanced up at him and did a double take.

Gorgeous was probably not a strong-enough word. There had been a lot of good-looking boys at St. Bernard, I’d done my share of looking at men on Internet porn sites, and both Jeff and Blair were handsome enough to be underwear models. But this guy was in a completely different class than anyone I’d seen before. He was tall, a few inches over six feet, and he had thick blond hair parted in the center and hanging down almost to his chin on either side. Like Brandon, he was wearing a tight red polo shirt that hugged a strong chest and biceps. His bare arms were lined with veins under his darkly tanned skin. His eyes were wide and blue, his hair bleached white blond by the sun. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow, his stomach completely flat. He didn’t look like he had an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. His teeth were strong and white, and he had deep dimples in both cheeks. He didn’t acknowledge me at all—all of his attention was on Brandon. His name tag read CHAD YORK, RUSH CHAIRMAN.

“What a bunch of losers we’re getting,” he said, slipping into the chair next to Brandon. “I’m starting to think we might be better off not bidding anyone this semester, the way this is going.”

“Tell me about it,” Brandon muttered as I slid the application back to him.

Chad chose that moment to notice me. He looked me over from head to toe in a slow-moving glance that made me shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. One of his dark blond eyebrows went up, and the corner of his mouth also went up. He stood up and stuck his hand out at me. “Chad York, Rush chairman. Welcome to Beta Kappa.” It sounded canned and insincere.

“Jordy Valentine.” I shook his hand and gave him a smile.

“You have spinach in your teeth.” His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes widened.

Mortified, I closed my mouth.

“The bathroom’s just down the hall.” He gestured over his shoulder. “You probably want to do something about that.” He turned back to Brandon, made a face, and they both laughed.

I wished a hole would open in the ground and swallow me whole.

“Seriously, go do something about that.” Chad didn’t look at me, just waved his hand in dismissal.

My face felt like it was on fire as I stumbled past the table and down the hall. Nice going, way to make a great first impression, why oh why didn’t I check my mouth before I left the apartment, would it have killed me to brush my teeth again, you just made a complete ass out of yourself in front of one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen, thank God Blair and Jeff aren’t here. I reached the saloon doors that led to the communal first-floor bathroom and shoved my way inside. Standing in front of a mirror, I bared my teeth. Sure enough, there was some spinach lodged between the canine and the front tooth. I grabbed a paper towel with my shaking hands and removed it, taking some deep breaths, fighting the urge to leave and forget all about Beta Kappa. I turned on the cold water tap and splashed some water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror and could see tears filling my eyes. This is going to be no different than St. Bernard, you were so stupid for thinking you could get a fresh start, it wasn’t the guys at St. Bernard, it was YOU, you’re never going to have any friends and you sure don’t belong here, you might as well just slip out and head home, no one would notice you were gone anyway . . .

“Hi,” a voice said from behind me. “You rushing?”

I jumped.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice said.

I turned and found myself looking at a guy about my height. He was heavier than me, and his shirt was a little too small for him. His stomach strained against the front of it. His arms were thin, and his skin was very pale. His mousy brown hair looked a little greasy, and angry red pimples were scattered over his face. He was wearing a pair of tortoiseshell glasses that had slid partway down his nose. His teeth weren’t straight, and his lips were narrow and thin. His name tag read ROGER DEVLIN. His face was expressionless. “Yes,” I replied. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m Roger, one of the brothers here.” He shook my hand. His hand was soft, warm, and a little moist. “Nice to meet you, Jordy.” He narrowed his eyes and examined my face. “Are you okay?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Just a little overwhelmed, I guess. I’ve never been to anything like this before. . . .”

A sardonic smile crept across his face. “And let me guess, you met our estimable Rush chairman, Chad.” He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Charming, isn’t he?”

“He seemed nice,” I said cautiously, remembering Blair’s advice—“Never criticize a brother, even if one of them invites you to. Don’t criticize the house under any circumstance, even if you think the paint is hideous and the carpet an abomination. All it takes is one brother to blackball you and keep you out. No matter how tempted you are, no matter how friendly a brother might seem, remember they are evaluating you and deciding if they want to let you in. Even as a pledge you don’t criticize a brother to another brother. Once you’re an active, you can do or say whatever you want, but until you’re initiated you can be bounced at any time. Don’t forget.” “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him. But he did seem nice.”

“Then you’ve got pretty low standards,” Roger replied, still smiling. “He didn’t even give you the time of day, did he.”

What? “I didn’t ask,” I replied, confused. “I have a watch.” I held up my arm to show him. “See?”

He gave me a funny look, and got a look at my watch. His eyes widened and he whistled. “Dude, that’s a TAG Heuer.” He threw back his head and started laughing. “I’ll just bet Chad didn’t see that—if he did you sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to ditch his ass.”

“What does my watch have to do with anything?” I was puzzled. I looked at it. It was just a watch. I’d gotten it for my last birthday.

“Oh, Jordy.” His smile broadened. He was actually kind of cute when he smiled for real. “Your parents have money, don’t they?” He pointed at the watch. “That watch cost enough money to pay for a year’s tuition, books, and lodging here at Polk State.” He cocked his head and examined me from head to foot the same way Chad had—but it was different. I didn’t feel like I was under a microscope. He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Your clothes are nice, nothing too expensive, but they are definitely new. But you’re wearing a watch worth about ten grand.”

“I don’t really care about clothes,” I replied. “I mean, I guess I do. But I’m used to wearing a uniform. I—” I let my voice trail off. I heard Blair saying, “Don’t offer too much information, and don’t talk about yourself too much. If someone asks you a question about yourself, answer it but be brief. You don’t want them to think you’re self-absorbed.” Instead, I added, “I have a lot to learn, I guess.” I looked down at my pale blue pullover and the new jeans. I’d thought they were perfectly fine—Blair had picked them out for me.

Maybe Blair picked them out on purpose, so people would—

I dismissed that thought. Blair and Jeff had been nothing but nice to me. They weren’t the kind of people to play mean jokes.

Or were they?

“Obviously.” He seemed absolutely delighted. “In fact, I’d pay good money to see Chad’s face when he reads your application.” He was practically dancing in place. “He probably treated you like you were something he stepped in, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t seem particularly interested in me, if that’s what you mean,” I replied. “But he’s probably meeting so many guys—”

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s probably it.” Roger smothered another grin. “Look, take some advice, okay? Chad York can’t be trusted. We were pledges together, and I know Chad pretty well. Believe me, once he reads your application, he’s going to be sweet as sugar to you.” He started laughing again. He stopped when he saw my face. “Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at Chad.” His face darkened. “I told everyone making him Rush chairman was a mistake.”

“But why would reading my application make a difference?” I was confused, trying to remember my answers to the questions. “I don’t understand.”

“Never mind.” He waved his hand. “I never said a word. Want me to show you around?” His eyes glinted. “Being a Beta Kappa is like having fifty best friends,” he said in a singsong voice as he held the saloon doors open. “Joining Beta Kappa is going to be the smartest decision you’ll make in your entire college career.”

“Okay.” I was really confused but decided to let it go. I’ll figure it out later, I told myself as I followed Roger out of the bathroom.

The tour didn’t take very long. Beta Kappa was a nice house, and I liked that it was homey rather than palatial like the other houses on the mall. Roger kept up a steady stream of chatter as he showed me around. The building was in the shape of an L, with the long side being the two-story dormitory where the bedrooms were. The rooms were small, and it was amazing that two guys could share such a small place—all the rooms were about the size of the spare bedroom in my apartment—but there was a welcoming feel to the place that I liked. Roger never gave me a chance to say anything—he’d ask me if I had any questions, but before I could answer he’d start talking about something else. He introduced me to other brothers we encountered—also leading a prospective around—but other than “nice to meet you” I didn’t get a chance to talk to any of them. They all seemed really polite and genuinely interested in me. I felt my own confidence starting to come back. So who cares if you had spinach in your teeth when you met the Rush chairman? You’re making a good impression on the other brothers. And Chad probably wasn’t being mean—you were just being oversensitive. He was doing you a favor—and what WOULD be the polite way to tell someone “you have food in your teeth”?

I felt a lot better when the tour ended. Roger led me back into the big room, which he said doubled as their dining room and the party room. They’d done a good job setting up Casino Night. In addition to blackjack tables, there were a couple of roulette tables, and a crowd had gathered around a table where a pretty Asian girl was playing craps. “I’ll go get you some chips so you can play. Wait for me here.” Roger gave me another smile and wandered off. I stood by myself, taking it all in. Everyone looked like they were having a good time, and Blair and Jeff had been right. I liked Beta Kappa, and I wanted to join. I felt like I belonged, despite the rough start.

I leaned back against the wall, watching the Asian girl as she continued her hot streak, the crowd around the craps table cheering her every toss of the dice, when Chad York suddenly loomed up in front of me. “There you are!” he said, his face wreathed in a huge smile, his eyes open wide.

I inhaled sharply. He was so damned handsome that it almost hurt to look at him. “Here I am.” I smiled back at him.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he went on. “I wanted to apologize if I seemed rude when you got here.” He put his right hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “I’ts just that I’m in charge, and I’m under a lot of pressure—the whole success of this semester’s Rush is my responsibility.”

My knees felt weak as I stared back into his impossibly blue eyes. “It’s okay.” His hand felt hot on my shoulder—like an electrical current was flowing through it into my body and down into my groin. “I would imagine that would be a lot of pressure.” I shifted a little bit. His cologne smelled fresh and clean.

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to put my hands on his thick chest. I wanted him to push me up against the wall—

“That’s very kind of you, and understanding. Thank you. I’d hate for you to get the wrong impression of Beta Kappa because of me.” He waved a hand around the room. “So what do you think of Beta Kappa? Has anyone taken you on a tour?”

“I like it. I like it a lot,” I replied. “Roger showed me—”

“Oh, I’m so glad. We’re really the best house on campus.” He went on in that vein for a while, but I wasn’t really listening. I was watching his face, the way his chest muscles rippled under his shirt, how his arms flexed with every movement. He was gorgeous, a Greek god come down from Olympus to mix with mere mortals. I wondered what his stomach looked like. I wondered if he had golden hairs on his chest. I wondered what it would be like to kiss his lips. He finished his spiel. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Um—”

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” He gave me a pleading look, and when I nodded, he said, “I’ll be right back with a Coke for you, I promise.” He walked over to another group of guys and separated one of them from the rest. He put his arm around the guy’s shoulders and led him away.

I couldn’t stop staring at his ass.

His jeans were tight and hugged his round butt like a rubber glove. It was big and hard and perfectly round.

“Earth to Jordy,” a voice said behind me.

Startled, I caught my breath and smiled at Roger. “Sorry.”

“He does have a phenomenal ass, doesn’t he?” Roger looked over to where Chad was standing with his back to us, talking to some other guys I didn’t recognize. “Unfortunately, it’s attached to the rest of him.” He handed me a stack of chips. “I was right, wasn’t I? Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, right?”

“That doesn’t make sense.” I frowned. “Body heat and saliva would break down butter in anyone’s mouth. It wouldn’t be possible.”

“It’s an expression.” Roger frowned at me. “It means—well, hell, I don’t know what it means. You’re right, it’s dumb.” Roger laughed and clapped me on the back. “Come on, Jordy, let’s play some blackjack.”

To be honest, I’ve never understood the appeal of blackjack. It’s so incredibly simple. All one has to do to be successful is simply keep track of the tens and the face cards and bet accordingly. It’s really all about the law of averages and calculating odds. Out of fifty-two cards, there are sixteen with a face value of ten, and of course the four aces. You have a one in three chance, basically, of getting a ten from the dealer every time you take a card. All you really have to do is count the cards. I started counting and calculating, accumulating a rather large pile of chips, when Chad came up behind me and said, “Wow, you’re doing well.”

“It’s easy,” I replied. “All you have to do is—”

“Yes, yes.” His smile never faltered. “Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”

I grabbed my pile of chips and walked with him out of the party room.

“So,” he said as we walked down the hallway. “Your application said you went to St. Bernard of Clairvaux Academy? Where exactly is that?”

“A little town called Inhofen.” When he got a puzzled look, I smiled. “No one really knows where Inhofen is. It’s a little village about twenty miles from Gstaad.”

“Shtod?” He looked confused.

“Switzerland,” I replied. “It’s in Switzerland. Most people have never heard of Inhofen. I mean, it’s no wonder, all that’s really there is the school. The skiing isn’t very good there, so no one ever goes there. It’s not one of the big tourist destinations in the country.”

“Okay,” he said, a strange look on his face. When we reached the staircase to the second floor, he knocked on a door to the right of it. He opened the door. “Go on in.”

I walked in. A muscular guy in his early twenties was sitting behind a desk. In a chair next to him sat another guy about the same age. The guy behind the desk gave me a dazzling smile. Is everyone in this house drop-dead gorgeous? I wondered.

“Hi, Jordy,” the guy behind the desk said, rising and offering me his hand. I shook it. “I’m Chris Moore, president of Beta Kappa.” He was about six feet four inches tall, with dark blond hair and a muscular body. His eyes were gray, and his smile was warm.

“I’m Eric Matthews, the pledge marshal.” The other guy offered me his hand. Eric was a little shorter than Chris, with dark hair and brown eyes. I shook his hand. His biceps bulged as we shook hands. “Have a seat, Jordy.”

I sat down in an uncomfortable, hard plastic chair.

“I was looking at your application,” Chad said, closing the door behind him. “Your parents have an income of one hundred twenty-five million per year?”

“I really don’t know,” I replied, getting a little nervous. “I just estimated. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was going to be asked, so . . .”

“Estimated?” Chad’s voice was low. “You just estimated?”

“Well, I know their net worth is about seven hundred million, give or take,” I went on. “So, I just figured if their money was in a basic savings account at 6% interest per quarter, that’s what their annual income would be.” I shrugged. “We never really talk about money much, honestly.”

“How did your parents,” Eric asked, “make their money?”

“Did they inherit it?” This was from Chris.

“Oh, no.” I laughed. “My dad was a software designer and started his own company when he got out of college. He invented EZ Accounting . . .”

“Oh, my God.” Eric gasped. “Is your father Terry Valentine?”

I nodded, looking from face to face. “Yes. Is that a problem?” I swallowed. Maybe Beta Kappa is no different from St. Bernard after all. They don’t want me because of who my father is—but why? My heart sank. I closed my eyes and wished I were a million miles away.

They exchanged glances.

“Well, we’d like to offer you a bid to pledge Beta Kappa,” Chris said, smiling. “Would you like to accept? You don’t have to accept right now—”

“Oh, yes, I accept!” My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest. They want me! “I can’t think of anything I would rather do than be a Beta Kappa!”

Eric cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to check out any of the other houses first? We don’t want you to think we pressured you into joining us without giving the other houses a chance.”

In my head, I heard Blair saying, “If someone asks you if you’ve checked out the other houses, even if you haven’t and don’t want to, tell them yes. Don’t seem too eager to join Beta Kappa. We’re also required by Interfraternity Council rules to encourage prospectives to look at other houses.”

But they’d already offered me a bid.

I took a deep breath and forced Blair’s voice out of my head. “I really like it here,” I said. “The moment I walked into the house I felt like I belonged here. I’ll be the best pledge you’ve ever had. I’ll be the best brother you’ve ever had. I really, really want to pledge Beta Kappa. I mean, I’m an A student, and I can help brothers study and tutor and . . .” My voice trailed off.

Idiot! I yelled at myself inside my head. Blair said not to seem too eager. You’ve blown it. They’re going to change their minds and ask you to leave.

“In that case,” Chris said slowly, pushing a small piece of cardboard across the desk to me. I glanced down at it.

The brothers of Beta Kappa fraternity

would like to cordially invite you

to accept a bid to pledge our house.

Underneath those words were the signatures of Chris as president, Eric as pledge marshal, and Chad as Rush chairman.

There was a blank for me to sign my name.

I took the pen Eric was offering me and signed.

“Welcome to Beta Kappa, pledge,” Chris said with a big grin.

I smiled back at him. “Thank you.” I fought back the tears I knew would be inappropriate.

I remembered Guy deMontespan and his friends sneering at me.

I remembered all those meals eaten at a table by myself those eight long years at St. Bernard.

I remembered all the slights, the veiled and not-so-veiled insults, the teasing, and the pranks.

Finally, I had fit in somewhere.

Things were going to be different from now on.