“Raise your hand if you believe that when our ceasefire with Colton Langley expires in May, he will leave us alone.” Matt said.
Nervous shuffling. Side glances from one guy to the other. Not a single hand went up.
William shrugged. “We’ll deal with that situation if and when it arises, dahling.”
“I know you will,” Matt said to William. “What I’m asking, though, is if you believe that situation will arise? You know Colton better than the rest of us. If you think he’ll leave us alone, please raise your hand. It will only take one hand, and we can all go home.”
William shrugged, then toasted Matt with his tumbler. “You’ve made your point, Matthew. Go ahead and tell us how you would handle things better.”
Matt looked around at the other members. None would meet his eye. This was the moment they expected him to make his move against William. That would never happen. William was hisfriend and mentor.
Matt shook his head in frustration. “This isn’t about you, William. And it isn’t about me. Everyone here needs to understand that. When we leave this clubhouse tonight, you will still be Godmother. The only question is whether the GM will have approved my plan.”
“Look guys,” he continued, now addressing the larger group, “up to now we’ve been playing small ball against Colton, which was probably the best strategy—all things considered.”
“What’s small ball?” asked Paul.
“I think it’s a sportsball term,” William said. “As opposed to a genital one, like ‘He’s been playing pocket pool with his small ball.’”
Several guys snickered.
“William’s right,” Matt said. “It’s a sports strategy. Think of baseball. Instead of going for homeruns, the team focuses on tiny victories, like advancing a player to second base, hoping the little things will add up to a win.”
“Small ball is a perfectly acceptable strategy,” Matt continued, “especially if the teams are evenly matched or while you’re waiting for the other team to get sloppy. When that happens—when the other team gets sloppy, you go for the kill.”
“And guess what happened?” Matt said. “Colton got sloppy!”
“How?” echoed from several voices around the room.
Matt counted off the reasons on his fingers. “One: It was Colton’s idea to fire Debbie. Two: He had SGA pass a resolution about family values. Three: He wrote a letter to the editor of theBeakly Newsencouraging the administration to take action. Four: He used his family’s influence to pressure the administration.”
Matt continued, “Debbie’s firing was an unmitigated public relations disaster for MCU. The administration will think twice before they hitch their wagon to the Langley golden boy again. They’ll cut him loose at the first sign of trouble. That’s what tonight is about: a plan to take down Colton—not William.”
Evan shot Matt a discreet thumbs up.
Matt went on to explain his plan. All of it, except the part where Molly Hatchet McGee would be the photographer. He was saving that news—and her conditions—for after the GM approved the plan, a sort of small ball, baby-step-by-baby-step strategy of his own.
“Holy SHIT!” said Josh, when Matt had finished. “That is crazy brilliant!”
Luke started clapping. Others joined in. Everyone but William and Paul.
As soon as the applause died down, Paul spoke. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?” Matt demanded.
“The whole plan hinges on Colton Langley deciding to get in a car with you. You’re his arch enemy. You’re the guy who punched him once and triedto punch him again the last day of finals. You’re the guy who outsmarted him on the Debbie firing. And you think he’ll go for a joy ride with you? Not happening. No joy ride, no take down.”
“I can be very persuasive,” Matt said. He tried to sound confident but was actually embarrassed he had missed this obvious point. How would he talk Colton into taking that ride?
Paul crossed his arms. “Colton Langley is not stupid. Arrogant? Yes. Stupid? No. What you need here is not a sportsball move, but a chess one. This situation calls for a classic queen sacrifice.”
“Again with the chess?” William sighed. “Honestly Paul, dahling, your obsession with chess is becoming almost as tiresome as Matthew’s preoccupation with Colton Langley.”
“Ignore William,” Matt said to Paul. “Tell me about this queen sacrifice.”
“It would be easier if I had a board and could show you,” Paul said.
“We’re gays, dahling,” William purred. “If we get bored, we play pocket pool—not chess.”
