THERE IS NOTHING WORSE than throwing up.
I usually don’t even let my thighs touch the toilet seats at Ralph’s, yet here I am, backstage bathroom, face resting against the dirty, cool porcelain. My head is spinning, I have to go on stage in less than ten minutes, and I can’t stop vomiting.
“Goddamn it, Erin.” Jess closes the bathroom door behind her and locks it. The first wave of nausea hit me so hard I didn’t even have time to close the door when I rushed in. “Get your shit together, dude. You have to go on stage and you look like hell. Come here.”
She helps me stand, instantly going into caregiver sister mode, which is a rare form for Jess. She’s the party girl, we all know it, but when she needs to be there for someone — she pulls out all the stops. She’s one of the best friends anyone could ever have.
I watch her carefully as she uses a wet paper towel on the back of my neck, whipping out her makeup bag at the same time. “Thank you.”
She smiles, but her usually playful brown eyes are sad. “You have to take a test. You can’t keep avoiding it.” Jess shakes her head, patting my face dry with a new paper towel before applying a little cover up under my eyes. “I know it’s scary, but we can handle it together. You should have already taken a test by now. Hiding from the problem isn’t going to make it go away.”
She keeps talking, but my ears go fuzzy, along with my vision. I feel myself slipping into a sort of numbness, a dark hole, a place where I just need to be alone.
“It’s fine.” I cut her off mid-sentence, forcing a smile. “I took the test, Jess. I’m not pregnant. Must just be a stomach flu.”
Jess’ eyes are hard on mine, like she’s searching for something, but then a sigh of relief leaves her lips. “Oh, thank fuck.” She shakes her head, still working on my makeup. “A stomach flu we can handle. When did you take the test?”
“Sunday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been there with you.”
“I tried calling, you weren’t answering.” Jess swallows, her eyes flitting from mine to focus on her hand where she’s reapplying my lipstick. Something tells me I’m not the only one who has something to hide.
“Sorry. I think I was with my study group, now that I think of it.”
“Yeah.”
“Erin?” My Big knocks on the bathroom door. “You’re up. Are you okay?”
“Fine! Be right out.”
Kelsey is absolutely slaying it in her new position as president, and I know I can’t let her down. I’m next in line. Every KKB in our family line for the past several years has held the position of president. This is my year to prove myself, and I’m not letting anything get in my way.
Pulling my shoulders back, I turn from Jess to the mirror, giving myself a once over before pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime, Ex. Now go raise some money for charity, you fine piece of ass.” She smacks my butt as I open the bathroom door and I laugh, throwing her a wink.
I don’t have time to get nervous, because Kelsey immediately leads me to the stage, helping me walk up the back stairs before Siomara, My Grand Big and last semester’s president, starts speaking into the mic to begin my auction. Even though her term ended last semester, she stuck around for one more so she could graduate in the spring. Then, she’ll be headed to Antigua for medical school.
Everything is changing.
“Oh boys, you’re in for a real treat with this one,” Siomara begins and a few whistles ring out. I shake my head, but pull on my mask, the one that lets everyone in the room know that I can handle anything — everything. “Our new Recruitment Chair is classy, beautiful, and smart. There’s a reason her nickname is Ex, boys, so beware.” Laughter rings out and I flash a smile at the crowd, playing into it. “And, of course, she’s the one in charge of choosing the hot group of freshmen ladies that will make up the next pledge class of Kappa Kappa Beta in the fall!” The crowd cheers, and I take a mini bow before laughing softly.
“We’ll start the bidding at one-hundred dollars.”
A paddle flies up in the back, but I can’t see the hand attached to it. Siomara keeps raising the price, and paddle after paddle goes up in response. I should be happy, flattered, but I just feel so numb. I think I’m smiling, but I can’t be sure. When the amount gets up to five-hundred, I focus enough to see who’s still in the race.
The paddle that goes up for five-hundred is Clinton.
He smiles at me, that heart-stopping, white-teeth-blazing-against-dark-skin smile that had me more weak in the knees than I care to admit the night he took me to semi-formal. He winks, and a sharp pang shoots through my chest. I know he’s just doing it as a friend, he’s just being sweet, because that’s the kind of man he is.
He would have made a great father.
He will make a great father. Someday.
But when Siomara raises the price to six hundred, a new paddle goes up. I recognize the face below it, perfectly symmetrical like a Ken doll, defined jaw, baby face, sandy blonde hair combed over and perfectly styled. Landon Turner is practically the definition of a frat daddy. Vice President of Mu Beta Chi, pre-med with a focus in plastic surgery, dressed in coral shorts cut just above his knee, a white polo, and Sperry’s — when it comes to who my parents think I should marry, he’s my mother’s wet dream.
Landon is standing with some of his friends, elbowing them with a wide smile as he wins the auction. He makes his way through the crowd, helping me down from the stage as a few of my sisters take his cash donation. He has light, almost crystal-blue eyes, and he’s not too shy to let me know he wants me with them.
“Looks like I get the privilege of taking you out on a date,” he says with a slight southern drawl. Yep, my mom would have officially lost her mind.
“Looks that way.” I smile, but it’s still a mask. “What do you have in mind?”
“I want it to be perfect, so I need some time to think. Can I have your phone number, Erin Xander?”
This time I smile and it’s somewhat genuine. Landon is cute, sweet — he could be fun. I just need to clear my head. Hopefully I can do that before he calls for our date.
I jot my number down in his phone and he gives me a soft kiss on the cheek before returning to his friends so I can join my sisters backstage. Kelsey hands me a clipboard immediately and puts me to work, organizing the rest of the sisters going up for auction and keeping a running tab on the funds raised. For the first time tonight, I feel in my element. Slipping into organizational mode, I push everything else out of my mind and focus on the tasks at hand.
It’s the best kind of escape.