Chapter 27 Olivia
Loud thumping music is the first indication that we're getting close to the party.
The second is everyone walking around us dressed in short dresses and nice shirts, whispering to each other excitedly about what's to come—something I haven't prepared for.
I'm not sure what I'm expecting at a party set in the middle of a graveyard with booze and food. But I guess I'm about to find out.
"So, a graveyard party?" I cringe at the thought of who in their right mind would want to spend their night drinking, eating, and being merry at a damn cemetery. Partying over dead bodies isn't my idea of a good time. Especially since my name sits on one of those gravestones.
My dead body, specifically. Did they do this to gloat about their evil ways?
Show everyone who they really are? Fuck.
I need to keep my wits about me tonight and not drink so much.
Even though my body calls for the numbing effects of the alcohol.
It's a bad crutch to have. I know that. But my vices are mine to carry.
Also, I think I'll have to babysit Simon. From what little I know about him, he's a lush. With junk food, alcohol, and binge-watching our favorite shows. He can't get enough. Plus, I kind of want to keep him safe. He's my ally, after all. And I can't lose my newest best friend. Take that, Jordy.
"They do it every year," Simon snorts, lifting his chin with a grin, looking over the heads of the people slowly walking before us toward the guarded gates of the graveyard.
"It's a tradition for them or something.
They throw another one around Halloween.
Right before everyone leaves for a week's break.
Hell, they do it whenever they want, really. But this is the important one."
"Every year, huh?" I question as we march through the grass. "Why's this one so important?" Even though I already know the answer.
Because it's the initiation party where they try to convince the people on campus to join their frat.
Pick me! I need in. I need to figure out how they're streamlining their frat members into becoming gang members, too.
The question for me is: how? How is that fucking happening?
And why doesn't anyone else talk about it?
Do their frat members run jobs for them?
It's the burning questions I need to figure out before I jump headfirst into their damn frat.
But I can't if no one knows the answers on the outside of it all.
Damn it, this is going to be harder than I initially thought.
My only worry was facing them again and again, which I'd rather not do.
Give me an acid bath or something, rather than seeing them daily.
Simon grins. "It's their initiation party. Drink, fuck, and be merry. Also, drop your name into their little sorting jar of destiny." Jar of destiny? What an interesting way to bring people into your gang. A jar. It used to be proving yourself to Franco by taking a life or bloodying someone up.
"And what happens when they pick your name?
" We come to a halt in the grass just outside the iron fence surrounding the booming graveyard.
He wasn't kidding when he said they had an all-out party.
There are people everywhere with drinks in their hands.
Food tables are set up around the perimeter.
How the hell aren't people falling over their feet on the gravestones? Especially the drunk ones.
Simon snorts. "Oh, they're very selective with who they pick.
Some years, they don't pick anyone." He rolls his eyes.
"Have to have connections. Daddy's in all the right places.
Moms, too. If your parents can further their dad's pockets, then count yourself in.
" Well, fuck. I don't have parents who can further Franco's pockets. Not anymore.
"Have you tried?"
Simon eyes me and frowns. "Twice. But I was never selected. But that's okay. My dad wanted me in for the connections and shit, but..." He waves a hand at that. "I'd rather not have to go through their initiations."
I shiver. "What kind of initiations?"
"They're not allowed to talk about them.
But I've heard rumors of kidnappings, deadly paintballs.
.." he trails off, taking in the crowd with a gleam in his eyes.
Yes. This is where Simon flourishes. Within the crowds of his peers.
He's an extrovert, thriving off them to reenergize his soul.
And as for me? I'd rather not. But I'm pretending.
Being someone else is quite exhausting. And annoying.
I can't wait to go home and be in regular clothes with my normal personality.
Unfortunately, with the size of this massive party—I don't see us leaving for a few hours. So, I take a deep breath and press on as Oliver, who just loves socializing and showing his face at events, when my bed is beckoning me back home.
"That's weird... Kidnappings, though?" All the more reason I have to join. If their initiations are deadly, then I need to keep track of them and what they're doing. Maybe send their asses to Devil Head Island, where they can rot with the worst of the worst.
Simon side-eyes me and nods. "I had a friend get in there.
He had daddy connections and all that fun stuff.
He told me about the initiation night. They snuck into his room, tied his hands behind his back, and then dropped his ass out in the middle of nowhere.
.. Naked..." he hisses, shaking his head.
"Poor guy had to find his way back to campus without getting arrested.
Oh, there he is!" He nods toward a large guy standing by a food table.
He has a black shirt with a large snake wrapping around a golden sword with EN etched on the back, incorporating the college's motto printed around it.
He's tall, muscular, but very unassuming.
I blanch. "Naked?" I swallow hard. If that's true, I can't let them undress me. They'll see my goods. Probably my tattoo, too, and their suspicions will rise. Once I've collected myself out of my thoughts, I shake my head. "What kind of connections does your friend have?"
My eyes scan the crowd as we wait in the long line, hoping to get into the party. I only count about six guys with the same shirt on, indicating they're a part of the frat.
"His dad's the president." Simon shrugs.
"I thought Wade's mom was the one in charge?" I ask, continuing to search the crowd for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. There's nothing suspicious, though. Well, if you don't count having a party at a cemetery. Now, that’s awfully fucking suspicious in my eyes.
"The President, Oli. You know, of this country," he says in a low voice.
I startle, turning to look at Simon with a twisted expression that he must read.
He laughs at me, leaning in. "If you notice, there are a few Secret Service guys around the perimeter, watching for any threats against him.
" Now that he mentions it, there are plain-clothed Secret Service members next to him with guns on their hips and eyeing the crowd.
Well, some of them. A few stuff their faces with food, looking more relaxed than they should.
What's the president's son doing at Greenwood University and in a gang? Why didn't Jonathan mention this?
"Why is the president's son here?" I blurt out before I can bite my tongue.
Irritation simmers under my skin, spreading like a wildfire. Until the rage fully consumes me. I've stepped into a battlefield blindfolded. Only told half-truths and misinformation.
How didn't I know the president's son was here? Why wasn't it in my paperwork before I stepped foot on campus?
Everything should have been presented to me on a silver platter. People here with those types of connections should have been named with details, so I knew who I was dealing with. Hell, even having roommates should have been in my main briefing.
Jonathan basically threw me into the deep end with an unknown amount of sharks lurking around and ready to bite my feet off. And there’s a lot of goddamn sharks around me with sharp teeth.
Immediately, I roll my lips together. I shouldn't have said that out loud. I can't bring attention to myself with all those questions. Although I don't think Simon really minds. Or notices that I can't keep my questions to myself. He seems happy to explain it all.
"He got recruited to the Water Polo team," Simon says with a dreamy grin. "You should see them play," he sighs, staring off at the man in question. "He plays, too." He fans himself slightly, nodding toward—Oh, God.
"Mack?" I question, earning a nod in return.
Macklyn Owens? How strange. The baseball-loving little boy with a backwards Cubs hat, grinning as he raised his baseball bat in the air and hit a ball over the fence.
A grin would light up his face as Hux huffed on the pitcher's mound, complaining about the hit. Mack soared around the bases, touching home with a whoop.
Baseball bled through his veins. He wanted to play in high school, but Franco denied him the chance. So, he settled for playing on his own time.
I'd bet a million dollars that Mack didn't get to choose water polo. No. In fact, I'm sure he was placed there intentionally by Franco.
"So, do all the frat members live together?"
It's something I've been wondering about. Mack, Hux, and JJ don't seem like the type of guys who would live in a giant party house with other members. Not with Franco on their asses. He'd never let them off their leashes that easily.
He'd want to isolate them in their own home and keep his eyes on them. Like always.
"Yup. Well, except for the kings. They live in that mansion on the hill. All alone. It's poetic, if you ask me." He waves his hand toward Franco's mansion—the home I'm all too familiar with.
"Alone?" I quirk a brow, hoping Franco is as far away as possible.