Page 20 of Best Man on Campus

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When I get to BMOC House I walk through the lounge, where a group of guys are watching a golf tournament, and I take some shit for being MIA all day, but I don’t care as long as no one mentions Jazzy.

“You spend all night in the library, Weaver? Picking up where Jack Hunter left off?” Billy says. He misses his old bro from the football team. We all miss Jack. I’m supposed to be filling his shoes as the house leader, but there’s no way. Jack was a certifiable genius, for one thing. I’m still trying to figure out why all the guys voted me as president of this non-frat house we call home at St. Paul’s. I voted for Kace.

“Anyone seen Kace around?”

“In the kitchen,” someone grunts. The room is clearly resting up from whatever their weekend activities have been, spent and half alive. That’s how I should feel. Except for the tension that fills me because of how I left Jazzy. And the unanswered question of what I’m going to do about her.

Walking through the dining room, I enter the kitchen to find Kace and Stone each watching their phones and eating the remains of a chocolate peanut butter cake, one of Majik’s specialties.

“Sorry. You’re too late for cake.” Kace looks up and grins at me. “But I don’t suppose you give a shit about cake right now.”

“Of course he doesn’t. He’s full up on—”

I kick Stone’s chair before he finishes whatever he was going to say and take a seat.

“I had macaroni and meatballs, if you want to know, and it was damn good.”

“You went out with Jazzy?” Stone is genuinely surprised and I contemplate smacking him.

“No. She cooked. And she’s a damn good cook. Turns out, Majik taught her.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Majik? Our Majik?” Kace slips his phone into his pocket and leans forward.

I nod. “Jazzy is Majik’s foster kid. Or was until two years ago when she turned eighteen.”

“Majik’s foster kid? Jazzy?” Stone shakes his head. “Un-fucking-believable. On so many levels. Majik with a foster kid. Jazzy… what the fuck?” Stone says.

Kace nods. “What he said.” He studies me for a few beats. “Are they tight?”

“She worships Majik.” She never said so, but it didn’t take a magnifying glass to see it. “Majik bought her a fucking Wolfe range for her shit-hole apartment, so I’d say they’re pretty fucking close. Majik cares about her like a parent.” Even more than she cares about us, which is considerable. She’s known for the protective streak she shows in her own tough-as-nails way.

“You going to talk to Majik about Jazzy? Tell her about your night?” Kace asks, cutting through the shit and getting to the problem. Or one of my problems. We both know the answer. I nod.

“Don’t do it, dude. She’ll kick your ass out of here,” Stone says.

“She can’t throw me out,” I say.

“No, but she can quit,” Kace says, then heaves a sigh. “Do whatever you have to do, but try not to piss her off.”

“Me piss her off? I thought I was the Best Man on Campus? The guy that can do no wrong?”

“I thought so too,” Kace says. “I didn’t think you’d… never mind. It’s not like that. Not a one-nighter.”

“Yes it was,” Stone says. “It was totally a random hook-up on a bet—and that’s what Majik is going to be fucking pissed at all of us about.”

“You’re both wrong,” I say.

“Then what was it?” Kace asks.

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out.” Scraping my chair back, I stand and make my way up the back stairs from the kitchen, heading to my room. This is something I need to figure out on my own. I know what Kace and Stone would tell me to do. In fact Stone yells up the stairs after me.

“Run the other way, buddy, fast.”

He’s not wrong. It’s probably good advice. But he doesn’t know me as well as Kace does. Kace doesn’t yell any advice at me. Too bad. When I get to my room and close the door behind me, I eye the desk holding my computer, iPad and a stack of organic chem books all neatly arranged and waiting for me.

The books are compliments of Dad. He sent them with a note telling me good luck with the toughest class in premed and to call him if I need help. But he’s the last person I would call for help. How could I take him away from his suffering and dying patients to answer a few organic chem questions? Besides, it’s mostly a matter of memorization. Of thousands of fucking terms. I pull out my desk chair and sit, then fire up the iPad.