17 - Grey
Holly lifts one eyebrow and stares at me. "I'm not sleeping with some college kid."
"What the hell?" I say. "I didn't say you were going to sleep with him. That's not the plan. Stick with the plan and this'll be easier than easy."
"Like me, if I sleep with some college kid," she grumbles.
"You can sleep with me if you want?" Wyatt offers, tossing her a shrug.
Porter and Holden slap him upside the head so I don't have to. It's pretty satisfying to watch. I think we're all working out real well, actually. This plan has merit. I can't say this is my dream team for plans or anything, but we've got some good teamwork going on.
Except, you know, Holly being bitchy about her part in all of this. Look, woman, I didn't ask you to come with me. I didn't even want you here. You volunteered so that's on you. And it's not like we have a lot of time, so we've got to get the ball rolling. Time is of the essence. I've got to get in there, find Fiona and Emily, drag their asses out here, and...
No fucking clue after that. Maybe just drag them all the way back to the hotel, I guess. One over each shoulder should do it. I'm strong, they're small, so it'll work. Or I can look for a wheelbarrow or something and toss them in then push them back. I don't know why I'm thinking up methods to drag them back, because for all I know maybe they'll see the error of their ways and gladly walk back with me. All fucking pouty, too.
I can see it now. Fiona's just being super fucking pouty, bottom lip pushed out as she looks at me under her lashes, batting her eyes every so often. Sorry, Daddy...
And then Emily being a grumpy fuck like she's mad at me because I'm right and I'm smarter than her when it comes to this shit. Look, Emily, I'm a guy. I know guys. Yeah, you're my sister, and I understand that you're a girl, you don't know guys. Have you even fucking dated a guy? No. How do I know? Well, that's a secret, and I'm sure as fuck not going to tell her that Fiona tells me everything. I need my sexy little spy to keep it up so I don't have to worry about my little sister.
So that's how this is going to go. Deal with it, brat.
"Alright, looks like the line is gone," I say to Holly, ignoring everything she was just trying to say to me.
Look, I'm not throwing her to the wolves. She's a grown ass woman and I'm right the fuck here. The frat bro standing at the front door is like... a hundred fifty pounds soaking wet and shorter than Holly even when she doesn't have heels on, which she does, so basically she's towering over him and no one has anything to worry about.
"This is bullshit," she says, but she saunters off towards the door anyways. Yeah, there we go...
"I don't think this is going to work," Holden says, watching her go.
"Look at that ass," Wyatt says without a care in the world.
"We're getting into the party," Porter says, determined.
I seriously have no idea why these guys even want to go to this party. I mean, I can see why Wyatt wants to go. Holden might be some of the same. Porter seems like a good kid, though. Go find a nice girl to date, dude. Have fun with her, ignore this stupid party bullshit.
It seems fun, but it comes at a cost, you know? You wake up the next day with a roaring headache, and maybe you had fun the night before, but you're not going to do anything the day after and who the fuck wants that? You lost a day of potential fun because you wanted to trade it for a couple hours of... I don't even fucking know. Vaguely swaying side to side, pretending to dance, with music so loud that you can't hear anything anyone's saying?
Dancing's cool. Go fucking dance. Go to a club and dance your ass off. Drink a lot of fucking water, lay off the booze for the time being unless you want a few glasses of whatever the fuck to ease the tension and let loose, and then have a great time.
Girls like that a lot more than drunken idiots who only want to sleep with them.
I think they do, at least. I'm not a girl, so who the fuck knows? Just saying, I think they'd be more appreciative of the fun and dancing than the drunken idiocy. Not that girls are immune to drunken idiocy, either.
Fuck, I don't want Emily to turn twenty-one. That's going to suck balls. And she better not even fucking think about sucking balls. That's my little sister, you asshole! Keep your balls to yourself. Holy shit.
"What's she saying?" Holden asks as we watch Holly from our vantage point down the street.
"She's following the plan," I tell him. "Don't even worry about it."
"I'm not worried, but... where's she going to go after this?"
"Inside, probably," I say with a shrug.
"What if he locks the door behind them?" Porter asks.
Uh... fuck. Fucking...
I didn't even think about that? I came up with this plan on the spot, alright? Sorry I didn't have time to make it foolproof.
"Do any of you know how to pick locks?" I ask, casual, like these kids must do that all the time.
"Nope," Holden says.
"Not really," Porter adds.
"Actually..." Wyatt says with a grin.
Yeah, how did I guess that one? This kid. What a pervert. It's cool, though. We can bring him over to the good side. This'll be my Jedi redemption story or something. Not today, Darth Wyatt.
Holly finishes up with her flirtations. No clue why it took so long. Just fucking jiggle your boobs, woman. It's a college dude in a frat. This shouldn't be that hard.
He takes her hand and she bristles, but he doesn't seem to notice. As they saunter into the house, this frat bro looking like he won a free pass to a candy store buffet, she turns to look at us. She gives us a thumbs up, followed by an "okay" sign, and then a wink, and all the other fucking "all good" things she can think of. Thankfully the frat dude doesn't notice, or doesn't care. No clue which.
"Mua ha ha!" Wyatt says, pulling out a pair of lockpick tools from who the fuck knows where. Why, dude? Why?
"Wyatt, can you cool it with the evil maniacal laughter?" I ask him.
"Sorry," he says. "How about this? Mua--"
That's it. He stops at the first one.
"Yeah, that's not really working for me, either."
"How about we get in this party?" Porter asks. "We've been standing outside for two hours and it's getting kind of cold."
You can say a lot about these guys. We've got a pervert who can pick locks, another pervert who is slightly less obvious about it, and then good guy Porter who should probably just find a nice girl to go dancing with. I feel like there's a lot wrong with them, but the one thing they do well is they're dedication towards a common cause.
This is it. This is my A Team. We've got this, guys. Roll out!
We swagger towards the frat house like we own the place. So fucking badass, let me tell you.
It's probably not badass, but let's just go with it. I think Wyatt ran into a bush on accident, but it's dark out and the streetlights here are scarce. Just... no. Don't focus on that.
Focus on how badass we are. Look at this fucking swagger. Confidence! Fuck yeah!
We get to the door, ready to break our way in. Wyatt strides confidently forward, the tools of his perverted trade in hand, prepared for anything. I stand guard, ready to do my thing, and Porter and Holden keep an eye out at the steps in case anyone tries to flank us.
Then Wyatt turns the knob and the door opens. "Oh, it's unlocked," he says. "Cool."
Fuck this. We swaggered over here and for what? Bullshit, that's what this is. Complete and utter bullshit.
"Now what?" I ask.
"Uh, we should be able to get masks in the--"
"My dudes," somebody says from inside. "You coming in or what? Did you see that hot piece of tail Dylan just brought in? Fucking A!"
"Who the fuck is that?" I ask, hushed.
"Sounds like Brad," Porter says with a shrug.
"Who the fuck is Brad?"
"Hey, Brad," Porter says. "We forgot our masks. Is it cool if--"
"Yeah, yeah. I got you," Brad says as we step inside. "Sorry about Dylan. He's a dick sometimes. I would have just given you masks but the whole frat brotherhood thing, you know? Don't tell him I let you in, alright?"
"Sure," Porter says with the most 'nice guy' smile I've ever seen. "Thanks a lot. Are we still on for studying next week?"
"Man, that would be so fucking helpful. I'd really appreciate it. It's like... you'd think people here would study more. I thought frats were about helping each other. But everyone's kind of shit at it, and getting C's is cool for some people, but my parents freak out and I just don't want to deal with that."
"It's cool," Porter says. "No problem, man."
"Thanks, dude," Brad says, then looks at me. "Who's this?"
"Grey," Porter says, introducing me. "Grey, this is Brad."
"Nice to meet you, man," Brad says with a frat bro nod. "You guys can borrow some shit from my room if you want. Should probably dress up or something. If you hurry, the last auction's about to start. Should be cool."
"Auction?" I ask.
"Yeah. These girls came in earlier. Red and white outfits. Matching, but opposites or whatever. Angel and demon? I don't know. But since this is a single's party, part of what we're doing is a fun auction thing for charity. It's all for a good cause. It's actually--"
I don't hear the rest, because, uh... yeah... auction? My sister is being sold off. Fiona, too. Sold off for what? A fucking single's thing for charity? What the hell does that mean?
Who even cares what it means? I don't like it, even if I have no idea what the fuck it is. I don't have to know to know that I hate it.
And it's starting soon. Fuck.
I grab my mask, shove it over my face like Zorro or something, and head out. To somewhere.
"Uh...?" I ask, looking left and right down two completely separate hallways.
"That way," Brad says, pointing right. "Room 105 halfway down the hall. See you guys later."
I think we have a little more than swagger this time. We're professionals walking with our backs to a massive explosion, action-packed movie hero style. There's no actual explosion yet, though. Kind of tempted to just blow up this frat house, to be honest. I'm not going to, but I'm kind of tempted.
Emily's grounded by the way. For life. She's never leaving the house again.
I'll figure out Fiona's punishment after that. Sorry, but it's not going to be good, baby girl. You might never be able to sit again. Or I'll just tie her to my bed, maybe put a leash on her, some kind of fucking... GPS tracking device? I don't know.
I'll deal with it later. Soon.