21 - Grey
“Grey, I can't.”
“You have to, Porter. You're the only one who can do this.”
“I'd do it,” Wyatt says. “Dude, your sister's hot.”
Which gets him a slap upside the head from Holden. These guys are good. They're like my apprentices now. I've taken them under my wing, or my cape, or however the fuck this works. I don't know. We're still hammering out the details, but so far so good.
“I really don't think this is a good idea,” Porter says.
“It's a great idea,” I tell him. “You're the only one I can trust to do this.”
“It's your sister, though! I... I can't do it.”
“Look, it's not like you're going to have sex with her. You're just making sure that no one else tries.”
“What if she tries to have sex with me, though?” he asks, turning his eyes towards the stage.
“She's not going to try and have sex with you,” I tell him, point blank. “No sex is happening. This is a no sex zone.”
“You realize this is the Sigma Epsilon Chi frat house?” Holden chimes in. “It's the opposite of a no sex zone.”
“Alright, this zone,” I say, clarifying. I wave my hands around us like I'm creating some invisible bubble. “This is a no sex zone.”
“You won't be in the room with us, though,” Porter reminds me. “What then?”
“Dude, let's make this simple. Do you want to sleep with my sister? You don't, right? So what's the issue?”
“Is that a serious question?” Porter asks. “Do you want me to tell you the truth or am I supposed to lie?”
“Alright, uh... let's try that again,” I say, trying to figure this out. “Out of everyone here, I trust you the most as far as not sleeping with my sister. How's that?”
“Grey, that's the problem,” Porter says, struggling. “I'm not going to try, you know? But... so if she tries I don't think I'm going to be able to say no. I'm not that strong.”
I have the weirdest admiration for him right now. I'm not sure why, because we're talking about sex with my sister, and this is completely off limits. Not happening ever. Emily can have sex when I'm dead. That's plenty of time. More than enough, really.
“Have you had sex before?” I ask him.
He doesn't answer with words, but just shakes his head.
“Alright, Emily hasn't either, so the odds of her going full seductress on you are pretty low, right?”
“I guess so?” he says with a shrug. “I don't know.”
“Here's what you do,” I tell him. “The odds are low, so in order to lower them even more you have to get her chatting. Emily loves to talk about stuff. Tell her how much you like her shoes, and she'll basically tell you everything about her shoes and how much she likes them, too. Ask her about how she likes college. That kind of shit. Between those two questions, I think you'll easily waste away seven minutes, and then you'll be out of there and you won't have to worry about it.”
“What if I tell her that you're here?” he asks. “That'll help, right?”
“Uh, yeah... no. No fucking way. No one is telling Emily I'm here. Out of the question. She'll be pissed. We've salvaged this, and we're going to finish salvaging it, but after that I'm going incognito. As long as no other bullshit pops up, we're just going to hang out here or whatever, do nothing even remotely sexual, and then go home. Alright? That's the deal, guys. I got you into this party and now I need your help keeping everyone in line. Are we good?”
“Good,” Porter and Holden say together.
“When you say nothing even remotely sexual, what exactly do you--” Wyatt starts to ask, but then gets a double smack upside the head. “Alright, fine!”
“Glad we're all in agreement,” I say with a grin. “You're up then, Porter. Do your thing, my man.”
“I... alright, I guess...” he says. And then in the meekest attempt at an auction bid ever, he mumbles loudly. “A thousand.”
All eyes are on him. We just went from a hundred-something right to one-thousand. The guy on stage who took it upon himself to auction off my little sister and Fiona stares into the crowd, trying to find the owner of that last bid.
“Uh, what? Can you say that again?” he asks.
“A thousand!” Porter shouts. Yeah, there we go. Much better. Good job.
The auction ends after that. We've won. I'm not exactly happy about paying two grand to get my sister and Fiona out of being sold to the highest bidder. I mean, in this case I'm the highest bidder, but still. I guess it's for charity so that's cool. I'm doing my part for the community?
Fiona's ass is going to pay me back in spades once I'm alone in that room with her. I hope you're ready for this, baby girl...
“The girls are going to get ready while we sort out the payments,” Frat Bro Announcer says. “If you guys could head over to the payment booth we'll get this squared away.”
Porter and I walk to this table, which is apparently the payment booth. Some people lead Fiona and Emily off the stage, bringing them to the room or rooms or whatever. I really fucking hope this isn't another closet situation like that other frat dude's room we used earlier. I kind of feel like it will be, and I guess I'll deal with it, but...
“Do you have two-thousand dollars on you?” Porter asks me. “I forgot to ask.”
“What, in cash?” I ask, looking over at him. “I'm sure they take--”
Shit. I don't have my checkbook on me. Who even writes checks anymore? And yeah, I'm not in the habit of carrying around massive wads of cash, either. Seems like a terrible idea.
“Hey guys,” this girl in glasses says behind the payment table. “That's one-thousand each! Thanks so much for your contribution. It's going to a great cause.”
“Yeah, uh...” I say, trailing off.
She tilts her head down and stares at me over the rims of her glasses. “You've got the money, right?”
Hey there, Little Miss Money Mafia, calm the fuck down. Seriously though, this girl is scary.
“Look,” I tell her. Time to be truthful, Grey. “I do, but I don't carry that much in cash and I don't have any checks on me. Do you take credit cards?”
“Dude, do you see a credit card swiper? That's not how this works.”
“Is there an ATM nearby?” I offer.
She sighs like she's already tired of dealing with me even though we've only been talking for thirty seconds.
“Who uses an ATM anymore?” she asks. “That's for my parents. If you don't have the cash on you, you can send it to one of the frat house funding accounts. We have accounts with all of the major cash apps, so whichever one you use is fine.”
“My preferred cash app...?” I say, looking over at Porter. What the fuck?
“I use Venmo,” he says. “Lots of people use that one. It's really easy.”
“Venmo,” I tell Miss Mafia.
“Here's the info,” she says, sliding me a card.
Porter helps me out and we get Venmo downloaded onto my phone, hook up my credit card to it, and send way more money than I really want to send over to the Sigma Epsilon Chi frat house charity account. Little Miss Money Mafia accountant over here confirms the payment on her end once we're through and then she nods.
“Nice doing business with you!” she says, chipper. “Enjoy the party, guys.”
“Hey, uh... just wondering, but why are you the one managing the auction payments?” I ask.
“Huh?” she says.
“You know... you're a girl, and this is a frat, so...”
“That's kind of old school thinking, isn't it?” she asks.
“I mean, it's a frat,” I say. That's my point. That's the entire point I'm trying to make.
“So?”
“Yeah, you know what? I don't know,” I tell her. “Alright, where do we go?”
“That way,” she says, pointing to the far end of the room.
An open door leads to an empty hallway, and a pair of football player looking jock dudes are standing outside, guarding the entrance.
“This is a terrible idea,” Porter says. “I just want to go on the record as saying this is a really bad idea.”
“It's fine,” I say to him. “Calm down. Talk about her shoes. Everything's fine.”