Chapter Six #2
Marlon trotted around my feet. I was wearing the gym shorts I’d stolen from Brody’s giveaway pile and the free blood donation T-shirt that I had washed precisely enough times for it to be exactly threadbare enough.
I had nowhere to go and no form of income.
It was a real no-money-no-prospects-Pride-and-Prejudice moment.
I couldn’t bear the thought of heading back to LA with my tail between my legs.
There was so much I needed to do, but none of it could happen without a job.
“I can plan activities,” I blurted.
Ruby shook her head. “Vera, you do not have a social bone in your body.”
I waved Ruby off and walked over to Morgan, who had turned her focus on me. We both smelled of desperation.
“I was a celebrity assistant for nearly two decades,” I told her. “For Brody Turner. I planned charity events and parties and did so much creative problem-solving. And egos! I am so good at gently managing egos, which I’m sure you have in bulk at a place like this.”
Eli crossed his arms over his chest and looked up to the ceiling, like he had something to say but was literally biting his tongue.
Morgan glanced to Ruby and then back to me. “We do have . . . personalities.” She mulled over her options for a moment, before saying, “Come see me in my office this afternoon.”
“Where’s your—” I started, but I could already see her brain moving on to the next crisis.
“We might have the start of a chlamydia outbreak on our hands,” she told Eli. “We need to get on this before it gets worse.” She began to head for the door and then whispered, “I suspect patient zero is Louise.”
Eli furiously shook his head. “Have you never heard of discretion? Doctor-patient confidentiality?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Obviously,” he muttered as the door shut behind her.
“Louise.” Ruby tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hasn’t she been with Martin, who’s been with Rita? And who you have also been with?”
“You’re thinking of Louise P.,” Hollis told her. “And Louise P. actually died in her sleep two weeks ago, so we should be in the clear.”
“I heard she was a good lay,” Ruby said.
“Put that on my headstone,” I muttered.
Eli grinned to himself and opened the boxes of bulbs. He was so at ease. So comfortable. Like my sudden appearance hadn’t even rattled him.
Meanwhile, being in the same room with him right now was nothing short of a mindfuck.
“Well,” Ruby shouted, so I could hear, “I guess you better get ready for your job interview today. Do you want me to run lines with you?”
I shook my head and started for the bathroom. “It’s not an audition.”
“It sort of is,” Eli said quietly.
From over my shoulder, I gave him the kind of glare that made your lungs freeze. Or at least I hoped so, but something told me I just looked like a feral raccoon.
INT. YOU SCREAM ICE CREAM SHOP—AFTERNOON
She hands him a cone. He forgot his money. Again.
POPPY
Here. Just have it.
ARLO
(tips an imaginary hat)
Milady.
POPPY
Next time you’ll have to pay with something other than charm.
ELIAS BUCKLEY
NINETEEN YEARS AGO
HI, VERA STEIN
Halloween was the goddamn Olympics of the Greek system, and the men of Sigma Chi were the reigning gold medalists. I stood leaning over the balcony of my bedroom, watching the debauchery unfold on the front lawn.
I wasn’t a fraternity guy naturally. My circle of friends back home was more like a triangle. I didn’t like noise. The traditions and unnecessary secrecy felt like playing dress-up. But Sigma Chi was a family tradition. Just like Stanford Med. Just like becoming an interventional cardiologist.
My roommate, Brody, had joined Sigma Chi with pure intentions a year after me.
He wanted the family that joining a fraternity could bring you.
I chose him as my little brother and roommate because he showed up to rush wearing a jacket and bow tie with no shirt under and it made me laugh.
My friendship with Brody was simple and uncomplicated.
He needed someone to keep him in line, and I needed someone to remind me to just fucking breathe.
When alumni came to visit and you’d hear them spouting off about the bonds of brotherhood, the relationship I had with Brody was what they were talking about. Simple and familiar.
Then a mousy girl with riotous brown hair that was neither curly nor straight and glasses as round as her hips showed up on Halloween and ruined everything.
Well, not everything. Just me.
I watched from the balcony as she stood in line wearing black jeans and a black-and-white striped T-shirt with cat ears and a black mask over just her eyes.
A cat burglar. It was the kind of costume that didn’t commit but was clever enough for me to appreciate.
The girl next to her I recognized from a philosophy class I took last semester.
She had long auburn hair and I remembered her taking everything incredibly seriously.
They stood out against the scantily clad throngs of girls.
The two of them waited, their arms looped together. I took a sip of beer as I watched them make it to the front of the line. The cat burglar swayed on her feet a little, attempting to pull away from the line, but her friend held her firmly in place. She was uncomfortable. I could relate.
I hated parties, but more than that, I hated myself at parties. I hated that I couldn’t hear anything, and the only way to avoid feeling awkward was to get so wasted that you woke up with a sense of regret for things you couldn’t even remember.
Dalton, a freshman from Redwood, stood at the door.
He was supposed to be checking IDs and marking anyone under the age of twenty-one with a frowny face stamp on their hand, but really he was there to let the hot girls in .
. . and keep the less than hot girls out.
It was gross, but what had I done in the last three years—two of those as treasurer—to change shit?
Behind me, in my room, a few people stumbled in—presumably to use my or Brody’s bed—and then stumbled right back out when they saw me on the balcony.
The cat burglar and her friend made it up to Dalton and he looked at their IDs closely with his flashlight. “I don’t know,” I heard him say. “Looks a little fake to me.”
“Tess, can we just go?” the cat burglar asked.
“They’re not fake, you dick hole,” Tess, the girl I recognized from last year, said.
He shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. Can’t get caught with fake IDs in the Sigma Chi house. That’s bad for business. You get it.”
Behind them, a group of first-year girls from Tri Pi laughed.
My grip on my beer can tightened, making a small crunching sound.
Then Brody came bounding around from the backyard in a Jack Sparrow costume that he’d borrowed from the drama department after he’d hooked up with someone who worked in costumes. “Vera!”
Dalton’s shoulders slumped a little as he realized he was about to be overruled by an upperclassman.
“Fuck off, Dalty baby,” Brody said as he hauled himself over the railing of the porch and opened the nearest beer cooler. “These two are with me.”
Brody stamped both girls’ hands with a red Sigma Chi logo, which meant they were allowed to be here and could legally drink.
He took the cat burglar’s hand and pulled her out to the front lawn with the other girl following behind, before calling up to me. “Eli, there the fuck you are! Meet Vera Stein. She’s so smart. Like, as smart as you. But way nicer and prettier too.”
Vera looked over her shoulder, trying to hide the sweet blush gathering on her cheeks.
I couldn’t explain why, but she made me feel like a bad person.
Maybe because I should have gone down there and been the one to tell Dalton and the Tri Pi girls to fuck off.
Or maybe because I couldn’t stop staring at her body, even if her plain clothes in a sea of costume lingerie sent the clear signal that she didn’t want to be gawked at.
“Say hi to Vera Stein, Eli!” Brody said with a slight slur. “Where are your manners?”
“Hi, Vera Stein,” I finally ground out.
“Hi,” she squeaked.