ONE
Ben
Somehow,the right place wrong time has become my own birthday party in my home. I know this for sure when I see one of the younger guys on the football team launch himself off the top step of a Jell-O slip and slide set up on the main stairs of the house. It’s a problem in and of itself, but the fact the man who owns the home I live in is currently at the bottom of said stairs, and he and one of our biggest linebackers are about to experience a very important lesson in physics, all set to the background track of cop sirens? Yeah. Right place, wrong time: population me.
I grimace as I watch it happen from the overlook upstairs, white knuckling the banister as I see the explosion of Jell-O, flailing limbs, parts of the drywall, and what I am fairly certain is an expensive Italian leather loafer go flying. I immediately yell for one of the slightly more sober guys downstairs to help, and then take off down the hallway banging on the doors as I go. One of them has their window open, letting the smoke vent out, and I can hear the sirens getting closer in the distance.
“That us?” His pupils are wide, and I nod.
“Fuck!” He immediately starts gathering his shit up and nudges the half-naked girl on his bed. “Time to go, baby doll.”
I vault down the back stairwell. One of the benefits of the old house is even when the main stairwell is a mess of Jell-O and linemen, the old servants’ stairwell is still neat and tidy. When I get to the bottom of the steps I see Colton—our quarterback since Liam graduated and he transferred in— standing immobile, eyes wide with horror.
“Get Jake and any of the rest of the guys and get out. The cops are on their way, and Old Man Griffin just ate shit on the steps thanks to one of the junior guys. We’re royally fucked.”
“What about you?” He looks me up and down.
“No hope for me. It’s my house and my birthday. Just get the guys out.”
Colton frowns, but he takes off through the kitchen toward the main part of the house.
“Eric!” I yell across the room to one of the frat brothers who’s currently still swigging keg beer like nothing interesting’s happening.
He jerks his chin up to me like we’re just saying hi, and I shake my head.
“Cops,” I mouth the word, using my hands to imitate the lights on a squad car, and he puzzles for a minute until he understands and nods.
“Everybody get the fuck out!” He screams at the top of his lungs. “Exit drills now! Jones! Thomas! Brown! Get it cleared!”
The frat has their own little method of madness in preparation for raids and since it’s never been a problem for us before, I’m gonna let them handle it. Especially since right now I am deeply regretting the fact we didn’t just have this little get together at his place. This party has been way over capacity for hours and has been out of control for almost as long.
“Benny Boy?” A very drunk Chelsea stumbles into me.
“Sweetheart, you gotta go.” I nod to the door.
“What? Why?” She looks at me like I’m making zero sense.
“Cops.”
“What?” Apparently, everyone is going to act wide-eyed and confused when I say this tonight.
“Hurry up.” I give her a little helpful shove out the door. “And trash the beer first or you’re gonna get cited for public intoxication.”
Jake slams into me as I turn the corner.
“Come on Ben, let’s go.”
“It’ll look worse if I leave. Everyone’s gonna say it was my party. Just save yourself, okay?”
He shakes his head giving me a forlorn look as he turns to head out the door, and you would think we were going down on a sinking ship. Like I’d just volunteered to stay behind on the Titanic and play everyone out.
And I guess I might be. The athletic department is going to be furious, especially if it makes the news and depending on the severity of Old Man Griffin’s injuries, the university consequences are going to come down hard. He’s big money for the university and the athletic department in particular. He owns this house and lets football team members stay rent free because he loves the team so much. But I have a feeling that love affair might be over, or at least on a long-term break after tonight.
I walk toward the staircase, listening as the sirens get louder and obvious that it’s more than one car coming at this point. I’m dreading seeing what’s become of Griffin and the sophomore linebacker. A linebacker who is no doubt underage, and I’m praying hasn’t been drinking.
Taylor, another one of my roommates, is standing over them at the bottom of the stairs. Griffin is cursing up a storm at him and the sophomore. I try to remember his name. CJ? DJ? EJ? I honestly don’t remember, but it’s one of those, is on his feet, rubbing his ass.
Griffin’s eyes land on me the second I’m in his field of vision, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead on the spot.
