“I didn’t make it! You were right. I sing like a sack of shit on fire, and I defamed the good name of Alpha Chi!” She yelps it out at the crowd as if the reprimand was meant for us all along.
Holy crap. Are these people for real?
“Now”—Aubree gives a soft clap while that stupid wicked smile plays on her lips—“the sisters and I are looking forward to getting to know each of you better. State your name and the reason you’d like for us to consider you as future members of Alpha Chi. Honest answers only.” Her eyes reduce to slits, and suddenly I’m fearing for my room at the haunted inn. “I have an exceptional radar for liars.” Her thin lips set in a line, and somehow I believe her.
The girls at the far end start in on the fun while Laney leans into me.
“Aubree and I grew up together,” she whispers. “She’s been hot and bothered over Bryson for as long as I can remember, so I wouldn’t mention him—Cole either just to be safe.”
I give a barely-there nod. “What do I say?” I zip the words through the side of my lips like a ventriloquist.
“Say that you’d die to live here,” she whispers. “That you came to Whitney just for Alpha Chi.”
“Excuse me?” The brassy bitch snaps her fingers in our direction. “It looks like someone here likes talking out of turn.” Her dark eyes narrow in on us, her jaw roots itself to the ground, incredulous that we even bothered tobreatheout of turn. I half-expect her to punch us in the throat. “Why don’t you two go next since you’re so excited, you could hardly keep your pie holes shut. You first.” She hardens her gaze at me.
“Baya Brighton, and I would l-o-v-e to become a member of Alpha Chi—” I thought spelling it out would be a cute touch since Jules seems to be addicted to the alphabet. Wait...do I really want to be a member of Alpha Chi and have more of thisf-u-n?
“Why?” Aubree’s eyes expand the size of baseballs. “Spit it out.”
Lynn and Jules drape her like bookends, albeit frightened, quaking in their patent stilettos, bookends.
“I would really love to become a member of Alpha Chi…”—now would be a great time to dream up some craptastic answer, but, truthfully, I’m a little short on lies at the moment so I go for the truth—“so I don’t have to witness Jeanie Waters fornicating herself into a cardiac episode.” Thing One and Thing Two blink through my mind as if they were waving hello.
The room lights up with laughter, and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
That’s a good sign right? Adding levity to the situation and all that good stuff? I can feel a bite of perspiration under my arms because I seriously doubt inciting a laugh riot is a very good fucking sign.
Shit. I can’t believe I just said that crap about Jeanie out loud. It was one thing to tell a few people but an entire crowd of questionably stable girls? My mouth has officially morphed into the rumor mill.
“Also”—it’s like I’m on autopilot, and my lips won’t stop moving—“sharing a bathroom with my brother and his roommate is growing a little old.” I manage to leave the parade of sluts out of the equation for now, although Bryson did mention he was handing the keys to the carnal kingdom to my brother.
Aubree narrows her gaze at me. She leans so far in my direction, I’m positive she’s about to flop over. Her jaws cut back like razors, her lips are pulled into a thin line of hatred, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just reduced my stay at this glorified mortuary to zero. Why don’t I just tell them I hate tea length dresses and pearls? Or really go out in style and swing a sickle from the second floor balcony while screaming,die bitches!
“So let me get this straight?” Aubree takes a few steps toward me, and the room echoes with the click of her heels. “You want to join our sorority because you ran away from your romping roommate? And you don’t like the bathroom accommodations at your brother’s place?” Her pink glossy mouth contorts in disapproval.
Oh, what the hell. “Yes.” I bite down on my lip in an effort to block my vocal cords from spewing any more hardcore truths, but it’s no use. “And, I happen to hate tea length dresses and pearls.” A circle of gasps titter around the room. “Thisisthe hall of truth, right?”
She sucks in a breath and darts her finger toward the exit.
Laney and I laugh our asses off as we speed over to the Black Bear Saloon.
“You were brilliant.” She shakes her head into the dark two-lane highway.
“Sodo you think they’ll let us in?” I can’t even finish the thought before the two of us hack out another round of good old-fashioned air laughs. Laney swerves momentarily before pulling into the parking lot.
“If they did let us in, I’m pretty sure Alpha Chi would be a lot more fun. Seriously though”—Laney wipes the tears from her eyes with her pinkies—“you’ll probably wish you didn’t blow rush.”
“What are you taking about? That girl had I-specialize-in-breaking-lady-balls written all over her face. There’s no way I’ll ever regret not scoring a room at the mansion of misery.” Well, maybe I’ll regret it a little.
“I know, but I was just thinking, you might be right. If things get serious between you and Bry—you know, once you’re officially together, you’ll want to find someplace else to stay to maintain that air of mystery for a while.”
“Officially together,” I whisper. Just the thought of being with Bryson sends me soaring. I’d be the envy of every girl at Whitney Briggs. Hell, I’d be the envy ofme.
Laney and I hop out of the car and head on in. The Black Bear is jammed packed with bodies tonight. Music pulsates through the speakers at lethal decibels, and Holt lifts a drink to us from behind the black granite bar. It’s just this side of creepy the way he looks almost exactly like his brother—I guess being fraternal twins will do that. Then I see him—the real deal. Bryson’s smile expands as his eyes lock onto mine. His jaw cinches tight. He’s got that five o’clock shadow peppering his cut features, and his entire face lights up when he sees me.
“Would you look at that?” Laney muses as she ties on her apron. “He’s like a kid on Christmas morning with you around. Looks like someone’s about to get l-a-i-d,” she sings that last part before disappearing into the crowd.
Right. More likepaid,as in, by the patrons. At least I can almost guarantee that’s going to happen tonight. Not that I would mind getting “laid,” but something about the word makes me squirm. I’ve always envisioned my first time to be in a bubble of perfect love with someone who wanted me as much as I wanted them. And, with Bryson, I feel an emotional push in the opposite direction, I don’t know why.
