Page 41 of Big Man on Campus

“The incident was never properly investigated. You were given a free pass by the cops.” She stops, draws in a breath and then spits out, “Because you’re a fucking jock.”

“Me being a jock never entered into it. I never asked for any favors.” I’m not lying completely. I didn’t ask Joe the cop for any favors, but it’s sure as shit possible he did me one, entirely possible that he gave me a break because I’m on the hockey team.

“Maybe you didn’t ask. I can see you’re half decent. I’m not a hater.”

“You’ll never prove that by me,” I say, it’s my turn to go on the offensive. “Everything you’ve said about the incident and me is designed to make people think the worst without any proof whatsoever, only your nasty little imagination.” I’m breathing hard now and I know I let my frustration take hold when Dooley puts a hand on my arm.

“Look, Mad” Dooley says, “you are doing a great deal of harm to an innocent person, to his friends and family. His father has seen your posts and now he’s worried. Do you understand the ramifications of what you’re doing to a person who is innocent? Who at the very least, by your own standards, might be innocent?” He lets that sink in and his words have far more effect than mine. The hard lines furrowing her brow soften, her jaw slackens a fraction.

This is about as receptive as I’m going to get her, so I may as well go for what I came for.

“Where did you get the video clip?” I ask.

She snaps her head to look at me and her mouth slowly draws up, then she laughs, one of those crazy laughs. “Is that what you’re after? Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re not going to like the answer.” She pauses and I want to shake her. Instead, I curl my hands into fists at my side and clench every muscle to keep in control. A couple of beats go by, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to beg her.

“Romeo Antonelli.”

Her words punch a hole in my gut. The image of Romeo leaving the party with a girl with long dark hair explodes in my head. I vibrate with anger and hurt, the feeling of betrayal making me sick.

“He texted me the photo. I believe you know him—he’s a friend of yours, right? From BMOC House?” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she slips her phone from her pocket and takes a photo of me. I’m standing here fuming and lost at the same time and I wonder what she’s doing and why.

“Shit,” Dooley says and grabs for her phone which she slips behind her back as she backs away from us. “Erase that photo right now. You did not have permission to take it—”

“I don’t need permission. We’re in my apartment. Besides,” she looks at me with a cat-and-canary look, “the big man on campus here is a public figure, isn’t he? Isn’t that why he’s president of the Big Man on Campus House, the self-proclaimed big shots?”

“Fuck,” I mutter. I’m not sure what she’s going to do with the innocuous photo, but I am fucking certain she’s up to no good. Romeo could have told her all kinds of shit. I only hope he kept his mouth zipped even when his pants were unzipped.

“Let’s get out of here, Dooley,” I grab his shoulder and turn him around as I reach for her door.

“Stay out of trouble, you two,” she says, the note of triumph ringing out like a church bell at noon.

* * *

Back at BMOC House the football players are gone, traveling to the West Coast for a game. It’s probably better that I don’t talk to Romeo right now. I settle for talking to Fitz and bang on his door. It opens and he’s on the phone, his hand down his pants, and I turn the other way. He laughs at me.

I go back to my room and contemplate calling Glory. My chest tightens with conflicted emotions. No matter, the problem is solved as soon as I fall into my bed and my phone pings. It’s a text from her. I hit the call button, not even reading it.

“Can you get a ride here from Dooley?” I ask before she says hello. He’ll fucking kill me, or try to, but I know he’s got a heart of gold and I swear I’ll pay him back for all he’s doing. The best tickets to every game all season.”

“Sure. Good luck, lover boy. Since I probably won’t see you—”

“Yes you will. Later tonight. Count on it.”

* * *

It doesn’t take long for Fitz to knock on my door and walk in. Unlike him, I have my hands on my phone, checking out IG because I’m a glutton. He saunters in and sits in the chair. I toss my phone aside.

“Who was it on the phone? A porn call?”

“No.” His smile is lighter than I’ve seen in a long time, so I believe him.

“Then who?”

“You know better than to ask.”

“I’m curious.” I pause a beat and add, “As long as it’s not Phoebe, I’m cool.” My protective streak won’t let my mouth keep shut. Fuck. His face storms up, his jaw tightens.

“You don’t get to have a say about Phoebe anymore. Remember?” His voice is stern, but I’m up to it. He calms a notch and says, “What do you care anyway?”