by Sarina Bowen
For a second I just blinked at her. It was easily the longest speech I’d ever heard Lianne make. “You make a few good points,” I said eventually.
She had the strangest look in her eye. It was a little wild and a little fierce. “Good guys like that are as rare as vampires on a sunny day, Bella. I’m not kidding.”
“I know,” I said quietly. It was true. And I was attracted to Rafe. So much. But it was hard for me to go there. The second I decided I loved someone, they always let me down.
She came all the way into the room and sat on the bed. “You sound afraid to be with him. And that’s not like you.”
“Yeah? If you’re so brave, what are you doing up here in Lonelyville with me?”
Lianne gave me the side eye. “I didn’t say I was brave. I’m a total chicken. But you’re with guys all the time…”
I snorted. Lianne still thought I was the biggest slut in the world.
She held up a hand. “Okay, that came out wrong. I just mean that you’re not intimidated. You know what to say to a guy. And Rafe’s the best one! So how is that tricky?”
“Because…” Lianne was not going to understand. “In order to be with him, it’s like I have to reform. I have to be the girl that everyone always told me to be.”
“Do you think Rafe is trying to reform you?” Lianne asked.
“No,” I said immediately. In my gut I knew it was true. He wanted what he wanted, and he wasn’t afraid to say so. “But the rest of the world would like to.”
Her young brow furrowed. “I get that. But it just comes down to the question of who matters more? If you want to be with Rafe, nobody else’s opinion should count.”
“Lianne, if this acting thing doesn’t work out, you should consider litigation.”
We sat there quietly together for a moment. “We’re still going to prank the football game, right?” Lianne asked eventually.
“Absofuckinglutely.”
Twenty-Six
Bella
For several nights in a row, Lianne and I plotted like Churchill and FDR. Focusing on my little revenge plot was just what I needed. Even though our Urban Studies project was due soon, Rafe and I were avoiding each other. And I was still ducking the rest of the world. But Lianne enjoyed planning with me, and I sure did appreciate it.
We’d just finished our dinner — sushi this time — when Lianne’s phone rang. “I gotta take this before we talk about transportation,” she said. Startling me, she answered the phone, “God! What do you want?” She listened for a moment, her eyes darting around like an angry pinball. “Yeah, I haven’t decided where I’m going for Thanksgiving. Bermuda sounds nice, but I might fly out to Palm Springs to be with Mom. Or I might go home with a friend.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a he. And he lives in Massachusetts.”
I was eavesdropping like mad, of course. Lianne never said much about her life. And come to think of it, I’d never heard her phone ring before.
“Bob, I haven’t been able to make up my mind. Cross me off your guest list, if you need clarity. I’ll go elsewhere.” She smiled to herself, as if she’d scored a point in some game that only she knew how to play. “Don’t nag me okay? It’s so unattractive. Later.” She disconnected the call.
Damn. And here I’d begun the year thinking Lianne was meek.
“What?” she asked, and I realized I was staring.
“Who just got a beat-down?” I asked.
She wrinkled her world-famous nose. “My manager is a pain in the ass. And I talk tough, but somehow I always end up doing whatever he wants.”
“Do you not have plans for Thanksgiving?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll probably go to Palm Springs, where my bitch of a mother lives. But I can’t tell him in advance because then he’ll show up there. And he’ll drum up some parties or appearances or some other crap that I don’t want to do. So I need to keep him guessing.”
Ouch. “I’d vote for going home with the guy from Massachusetts. Sounds like fun.”
Lianne picked up her clipboard again. “Bella, if he were real, he’d be at the top of the list.”
“Oh.” Oops. “You were very convincing.”
She sighed. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Now, back to our plan. The models can take the train up from the city, and we’ll pick them up in the rental van.”
I sat down next to her and looked over her shoulder at the notes. “Don’t forget that we’re going to need an excellent parking spot — between the tailgate tent and the stadium, with quick access to the road,” I argued. “The van has to be in position well before the train comes.”
“Good point.” She scribbled a note on her clipboard.
“The girls will have to take taxis to campus. It’s better if they don’t arrive until the game is underway. I want them to attract attention, but not until go time.”
“Gotcha.”
“Hi,” said a voice behind me.
Whipping my head around, I found Rafe leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. “Where did you come from?”
He raised his eyebrows. “We still need to finish our project. You want me to go back downstairs?”
A somewhat awkward silence followed, during which Lianne looked from me to Rafe and back again.
“No,” I said slowly. “It’s just that we were plotting something, and you startled me.”
“Plotting what?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his beautiful chest. I got a little lost for a second staring at the way his T-shirt stretched across his lickable abs. And by the fact that I knew if I stood up and went to him, he’d wrap those long arms around me.
I checked that urge, though. Because that way lay the abyss.
“What are you plotting?” he asked again.
Lianne beat me to it. “The best thing ever! I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.”
Rafe lifted an eyebrow at me.
“Maybe we should talk,” I said.
We went into my room for a little privacy. Rafe listened to my plan with a serious expression in his dark brown eyes. “What if you get into trouble for this?” was his first question.
There was a very real chance that I’d end up in a dean’s office trying to explain myself. “I’ve thought of that. And I think I’d just come clean. I’d show them the photo on Brodacious. And…” This was not going to make Rafe happy. “I’d tell them that I was roofied that night at the Beta Rho house.”
Rafe stood up so fast that I jumped. He went over to the window. As I watched, he took a long, slow breath and then let it out. When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “Did I just hear that correctly? They drugged you?”
“I think so,” I whispered.
“Jesucristo. How did I miss that?”
“I think you were busy carrying me up the stairs. And I purposefully didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want you to go to the cops.”
“But why, Bella? That fucker should be in jail.”
“I was mortified, Rafe. I was ashamed, okay? I finally understand why girls who are sexually assaulted don’t report it.”
His fists clenched on the window frame. “Were you assaulted?”
“No sir,” I shook my head. “But I’m still ashamed.”
He dropped his head, blowing out another gust of air. “Please report him. I’m begging you.”
“First I want to do this thing at the football game. I want to make a point.”
“He’ll get the point when his ass is in jail.”
“But it’s all of them!” I yelped. “They do what they’re told! And I can prove it with two reams of colored paper and a dozen rent-a-babes. It’s poetry, Rafe. Their ugly prank begets mine. It’s just like that gravestone you showed me. ‘Killed by a log he made.’”
Rafe scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “Your plan is brilliant. You're the cleverest girl I know. But it’s also risky.”
“All good things are risky,” I countered.
Slowly, Rafe lifted h
is eyes to mine. Our gazes locked. Rafe lifted an eyebrow in that maddening way he had.
Shit. All good things are risky, I’d said. And yet I wouldn’t even take a risk on him. I was such a shit.
“I don’t expect you to be there,” I said quietly. I’d been such a shitty friend.
“Oh, I will be. You don’t have a choice.”
“Why?”
His eyes practically bugged out. “You think I can just go about my Saturday business, take in a movie or whatever, all the while wondering if you and Lianne are going to end up roofied in some closet at a frat house?” In a rare fit of temper, Rafe delivered a swift kick to the foot of my desk chair. Then he put his hands on his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” he managed.
“I promise to be careful.”
He dropped his arms, looking grumpier than I’d ever seen him. “Yeah? Well I’ll just be watching to make sure that you are.”
I wondered what Lianne would have to say about that. Rafe stood in front of me, looking ten different kinds of hot. He had a sort of maddening alpha-male scowl on his face. I wanted to launch myself at him. I could kiss that frown off his face. I could scale him like a tree until I had him muttering Spanish curses in my ear. I could strip him down, and finish what we'd started the other day. And when we were done, I could lay my head upon his chest — my boyfriend's chest — and go to sleep.
The urge was strong. But I didn’t give in to it.
"Do you happen to have any graph paper?" I asked instead.
Twenty-Seven
Rafe
I aged about twenty-seven years on the day of the football game.
Bella and Lianne had begun their day by renting a van and parking it at the edge of the tailgate lot. As far as I could tell from their plan, they wouldn’t be in any danger until halftime. But I showed up about two hours before game time anyway, because I wanted to be present if any assholes arrived on the scene.
When I found the girls, Lianne was busy signing autographs for all the models they’d hired, and Bella was handing out matching V-neck Beta Rho sweatshirts.
I could see how this would go down. Those assholes in the Beta Rho section were going to take one look at those models’ tatas and do anything they asked. And then when they discovered they’d been tricked, they were going to be pissed. At Bella.
Que desastre.
Marching over to the van, I saw Bella look up in surprise. “Hi,” she said. “You know this game doesn’t start for a while, right?”
“Then you have plenty of time to listen to me.”
Bella gave me a look. But then she followed me around to the back of the van. “What’s the deal?” she asked, folding her arms. Her cheeks were flushed in typical Bella style, her eyes flashing with mischief. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this girl. But apparently I hadn’t convinced her. Or worse — she didn’t care.
“Please don’t do this,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not a good idea.”
Her eyes flared. “It’s an amazing idea. You said so yourself.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to be calm. “It’s just not safe. I know you want to make your point, but anything could happen.”
Bella squared her shoulders. “I’m doing this my way, and I’m going to say what I came here to say. But thank you for your input.” With one more irritated glance, she disappeared around the nose of the van.
Dios. I’d been dismissed. How utterly familiar.
So of course I spent the next three hours standing at a distance, watching for trouble and thinking of all the ways it could all go wrong.
Over at Bella’s mission control center, the crowd of models around the van had swelled considerably. Each of them was taller and more stunning than the last. They were all wearing the type of full-on makeup that a guy didn’t usually see at a Harkness football game. If only my stomach would stop churning, I might be able to enjoy the show.
Bella sat inside the rental van, aiming a pair of binoculars into the Beta Rho tent where the anniversary party was held. When the football game started, partiers began streaming into the stadium. I watched them walk past me, faces red from the November chill and from drinking a few too many beers.
The Beta Rho guys were the drunkest of the lot. I wasn’t sure whether that made things easier or more perilous for Bella’s big plan.
Please let this work, I kept saying to myself. Because bargaining with God was always an effective strategy for success. And if things went bad, the phone jammed into my pocket was the only weapon I had.
There was only one saving grace — Beta Rho was a football frat. And since Bella intended to pull off her stunt during halftime, that meant that a good portion of the current membership would be in the locker rooms when it went down.
So that was something.
After the Beta Rho tent had emptied and I’d heard the crowd in the stadium roar quite a few times, Bella and Lianne got busy. They lined up the tall women they’d hired to help them and spent a good long time explaining their plan. Lianne kept checking her phone, probably keeping an eye on the game clock. Announcements echoing from inside the stadium let me know that the second quarter of the game had already begun.
Bella and Lianne pulled two long rolls of fabric from the back of the van. Each roll was mounted on poles. They were obviously banners of some kind, though I couldn’t see their design. Each banner was assigned to a pair of models. The tricky part came next. Bella handed out burgundy-colored file folders to each of the remaining girls. With animated hand motions, she explained what to do. And then she explained it again.
I couldn’t decide if I was more worried that Bella’s plan would fail, or more worried that it would succeed. If it failed, she’d be crushed. If it succeeded, she’d be in danger. My stomach was in knots now.
After the pep talk, the tall girls shed their sweatpants, revealing tiny little shorts underneath. Then Lianne passed out Beta Rho baseball caps, which they donned. Finally, all the women picked up a shopping bag from the back of the van and began walking toward the stadium entrance. I waited for them to pass me, and then I jogged to reach Bella. “Hey,” I said. “Good luck in there.”
When she turned her face to mine, there was a soft expression on it. “Thank you.”
I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Please don’t take any chances. If this goes bad, just get the hell away.”
“Okay.” Her eyes dipped, then met mine again. “I promise.”
“Go get ’em.”
Bella held up a hand. “Hold up. I need to make a call.” She yanked her phone out of her pocket and dialed. “Graham? You’re in the press box, right? I need you to get yourself somewhere you have a good view of sections six and seven. That’s where all the Beta Rho guys are sitting together. And bring a video camera.” There was a pause. “I can’t tell you why. But the minute you see people passing out papers over there, start filming right away. This is important.” She listened again. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, Graham. But get over there, okay? You’ll get a great story out of it. And if anything goes wrong, I need that on video, too.”
My stomach gave another lurch.
She stowed her phone and clapped her hands. “Okay. Let’s go!”
I followed fourteen of the most attractive women in the zip code through the stadium arches. An usher ripped my ticket, and I was inside. But where to stand?
I settled on a spot beside the end-zone bleachers. I could see the stands from there yet was also quite mobile. Half time had just begun, and the Harkness band was marching onto the field.
When the models first approached the regular student section I was confused. They dipped into their shopping bags and began handing out empty plastic cups — the kind that were often sold as souvenirs at a sporting event. They were burgundy, though, which probably meant they were Beta Rho swag.
After passing out all the cups, the models took places in front and along the sides of the Beta Rho sections.
/> Meanwhile, Bella had tucked herself onto the end of a bench in the student section, while Lianne did the same a few rows up.
Then Lianne put a coach’s whistle to her lips and blew.
Immediately, the models bent over whichever guy was seated on the end of the nearest stadium row. With animated hands, they explained what they wanted, and then they passed a stack of cards into each man’s willing hands. After only a small amount of prodding, I saw those cards begin to travel down the row, some burgandy and some white…
My heart thumped like crazy.
On the ground level, two models had recruited a couple of people to hold the ends of a banner which read, SINCE 1915. And at the very top of the stands, a similar banner was unfurled, this one reading, BETA RHO FRATERNITY.
Now came the tricky part of the operation that would only work if Bella and Lianne had executed their graph-paper design perfectly, and if most everyone sitting in those twenty rows of seats held up his card as he’d been told to.
When all the cards had made it across all the rows of seats I heard Lianne give another blast on her whistle. That’s when the models began lifting their folders into the air, pantomiming the action they wanted to see down the row. They did this with come-hither smiles on their faces. It was quite a sight—and one that several decades worth of frat boys did not fail to notice.
As my breath stuck in my chest, several hundred white and burgandy sheets of cardstock were raised into the air.
For a heart-stopping second, I couldn’t decipher a pattern. But as two hundred fraternity members and their dates raised their arms into position, it became obvious that the card mosaic formed letters. Bella’s message was unmistakable. Together with the banners, the frat boys had unwittingly spelled out:
Beta Rho Fraternity
THINKING w/
OUR DICKS
Since 1915
