Wicked Frat Boy Ways

by Todd Gregory

  Marc. I love Marc.

  I have to remember that.

  It’s a good thing Joni’s going to be here.

  I don’t know that I would be able to resist him.

  I don’t know that I want to.

  Oh God, what am I going to do?

  BRANDON The champagne was the perfect thing to do.

  The party’s in full swing, the dance floor is wall to wall sweaty bodies, everyone’s getting drunk or getting high or doing lines somewhere, and Joni, that bitch, and her fugly friend Madison have been monopolizing Dylan ever since they got here, they’re the kind of girls that make me glad I’m gay, the kind who laugh and squeal in a high-pitched tone that makes dogs howl for miles around and jump up and down when they’re excited, and I think I’m going to see if I can point Joey Henderson and his horse dick Madison’s way—she’s perfect, the kind of girl he likes to stick it to—and that will get her out of the way.

  But Joni’s not going anywhere.

  She makes me feel sorry for Kenny. I can’t imagine having that bitch for a sister. I’d have pushed her in front of a bus or something.

  What a bitch.

  She thinks she’s hot shit, with her little-bitty waist and her perky little boobs with the erect nipples showing through her tank top and her tight shorts and her apple-shaped hard little ass, she’s pretty if you’re into that preppy sorority slut look with too much makeup and a spray tan, and she’s over there dancing, bopping and thinking she’s hot shit. She was rude to me, too, when Dylan introduced her to me, and I noticed he was drinking beer in a red cup even though he told me he doesn’t like beer and she gave me the stink-eye and I just smiled back at her and she was rude and Dylan noticed and frowned but Madison, her little friend, was friendly enough and it’s okay, Joni, you’re possessive and protective, but you don’t own Dylan’s dick.

  There’s nothing sadder than a straight girl in love with a gay guy.

  Dylan’s so oblivious he doesn’t even realize his “best friend” is in love with him, the pitiful thing, and if she wasn’t so determined to cock-block me I’d almost feel sorry for her. But what Dylan does with his dick is none of her fucking business. You’re out of your league here, girl.

  I see Phil over at the keg, dancing as he gets another beer. I know he’s stoned out of his gourd and probably coked up too, and I wonder who he’s got his eye on. His shirt is off and he’s got a rag or something tied around his head and I watch him as he takes a big drink from his red cup and smiles at someone, and then I see my prey for the night.

  Ricky Monterro.

  Phil’s right, he is even hotter in person than he is in pictures, and that’s saying a lot. Ricky just may be the hottest guy at this party. He’s got a T-shirt on and shorts and is sweating from being on the dance floor, but the shirt is so wet with sweat it’s clinging to him, and damn he’s fine, I can’t believe he’s a virgin, but Catholics will do that to you, and he’s smiling and dancing in place and I wonder where Kenny is.

  I told Phil to get Kenny wasted so he’d pass out.

  It’s too early in the evening for that.

  I think I’ll slip off to my room and do a line, smoke a bowl, refill my cup.

  RICKY I think I’m drunk.

  I…I kind of like it.

  The party is everything I imagined parties to be like, but it doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t. I know it’s supposed to be a sin to drink and dance and everything, but…this is fun. I’ve only had one beer but my head feels a bit woozy and light and my legs are a bit wobbly, but everything is kind of funny, and I can’t stop smiling. The music is pretty loud but I am enjoying this party and am really glad I came here.

  This has to have been God’s plan for me.

  It’s so hot I want to take off my shirt like all the other guys have, but I don’t know if I should.

  Phil is so cute and nice and kind and he is getting me another beer and I don’t know where Kenny is but nothing really matters, I know I’ll run into him again at some point, right, and I take the beer from Phil and he yells at me over the music, “Take off your shirt!”

  “You’re wearing yours!”

  He smiles and puts his cup down on the beer keg and pulls his T-shirt up over his head, tucks it into the back of his shorts. I just gawk at him for a minute or two. “Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re in really good shape.”

  “Thanks!” He laughs back at me, grabs the front of my T-shirt. “Your turn! I did it, now you have to!”

  I hesitate.

  “It’s not a sin, altar boy!” he shouts back at me. “It’s not any different than going to the beach.”

  He’s right.

  I give him my cup and pull my shirt up over my head and do like he did, tuck it into the back of my shorts. It feels so much better, even though it’s hot and sweaty and everyone is dancing and the body heat from the crowd of people out on the dance floor is intense. I’ve met so many people I’ll never be able to remember all their names and I am so glad I’m here, I’m so glad Uncle Rubin talked me into being a Beta Kappa.

  I belong here in a way I never did at Notre Dame or high school or even at home.

  My eyes fill with unexpected tears because I’m so happy, and Phil hands my beer back to me and asks me if I’m all right and I start to cry and then he grabs me by the arm and rushes me down the hallway and is unlocking his office where it’s so cold from the window unit and then we’re in his bedroom and he smiles at me and hands me a tissue to dry my eyes.

  He kneels in front of me and asks me why I’m crying and he’s so concerned and so obviously cares that I start crying even more and he puts his arms around me and holds me and his skin is wet but it’s warm and his body his muscles they’re solid as rocks and I feel like an idiot but he keeps holding me until I stop and I say I’m okay and he sits back and smiles at me.

  “It’s the beer,” he says gently, still smiling. “You’re not used to being tipsy, are you?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never drank before.”

  “It can make you emotional.” He sits on the edge of his bed, opens his nightstand drawer. “You’ve never smoked, then?”

  He pulls out what I assume must be marijuana. “No.”

  “Do you want to try?” He holds it in his hand, gets a lighter in his other hand, puts it in his mouth. “I’m going to have some. You don’t have to, but don’t tell Uncle Rubin.” He winks at me and lights it, sucking in. The end flares and a sickly sweet smell fills the room. He blows out an impossibly large cloud of smoke and grins at me.

  I put out my hand. “What do I do?”

  “You’re going to cough, so put your cup down.” I did. “Now, you’re going to put it in your mouth,” he places it in my mouth, putting my fingers on it to keep it in place, “and now breathe in—don’t suck, breathe in deeply.” I do as he says, and my lungs feel like they are on fire. He takes the cigarette away from me just as smoke starts exploding out of my lungs as I cough and cough, my eyes water and tears streaming down my face and it feels like I’m never going to stop coughing and he smacks me gently on the back, telling me to just keep coughing, go with it and finally I stop and wipe away the tears and my whole body is tingling and my head feels light, like it was barely attached to my body and could float away at any minute, and he hands me my beer and I drink from it and the cold liquid feels good on my throat and I smile at him and finally can say “Wow.”

  “That was a good hit,” he says as he takes another one himself, then pinches it out. He blows out smoke. “How do you feel?”

  “Good.” I start to giggle because it’s funny, everything seems funny to me and I can feel the wind from his window unit on my skin and I can actually feel the goose bumps coming out on my skin and I look at them in wonder, they’re amazing how have I never noticed that before and he’s saying something and I shake my head which doesn’t feel so light anymore now it feels really heavy and my throat feels dry and I take another drink and Phil smiles at me and says let’s go
back and dance some more and in that moment I love him I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone before I want to hug him so I get up and put my arms around him and I tell him I love him and he laughs and says you need to be careful with that you’re just high and he’s leading me back out of his room and I can hear the music thumping and I thank him and he just smiles at me and we walk back down the hallway and—

  KENNY I hate my sister so much.

  I think she came to this party specifically to ruin it for me.

  Her friend Madison isn’t much better.

  I lost Ricky at some point because she dragged me out of the party and out onto the lawn to lecture me about making sure Dylan stays away from Brandon and I told her to go to hell he’s not my problem and she called me an asshole and I told her she was a cunt and she needs to go back to LA and never come back up here again I hate her and her stupid friend and to go fuck herself and now I can’t find Ricky anywhere.

  I see Phil when I come back inside and I ask him if he’s seen Ricky and he says no but he can see I’m upset, so he asks me what’s wrong and I say nothing and he doesn’t act like he believes me and he says I think Ricky’s out on the dance floor why don’t you come to my room and we can talk and I say okay and I start crying once we’re in there and it all comes pouring out of me and he doesn’t laugh at me he just listens and I know I’m making a big fool out of myself but Phil is so kind, he’s so very kind I can see why everyone likes him so much and I think maybe I’m too drunk and maybe I need to find Ricky and Phil offers me a joint and I think what the hell and I get high and now I am so wasted everything is spinning and I don’t know what to do and Phil puts me into his bed and says to just lie there until everything stops and puts a bucket next to the bed and I don’t know why he’s being so nice to me and it makes me want to cry and I can’t believe I’ve ruined the whole night for myself and I don’t know where Ricky is and all I want to do is cry.

  “Shhhh,” he says, kissing the top of my head softly. “You’re just a little wasted, is all, just lie here and rest for a little while, okay? I’m going to go back out to the party. I’ll come check on you in a moment, okay?”

  I am so embarrassed I wish the ground would just open and swallow me whole because he is being so nice to me and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it I don’t know why I am such a loser and why I let my sister ruin everything for me why did she have to come and where is Ricky and then Phil is closing the door behind him and I put my head in his pillow and just have a good cry and I wish Ricky was with me everything would be so much better if Ricky was here with me but I can’t ask him to give up his night because I’m being a baby and having a breakdown and I wish I were dead I do I wish I were dead.

  BRANDON There’s no way to separate Dylan from his pathetic fag hag and her friend, so I keep my distance. I pointed Joey Henderson in Madison’s direction and he’s dancing with her. If I didn’t know he was a straight boy, just watching him dance… You’d think a swimmer would have some sense of rhythm, but Jesus fucking Christ, the way he dances is a hate crime. Little Miss Madison is going to get boned by Joey by the end of the night if I’m not mistaken, and I’d find someone to fuck the fag hag but it’s pretty clear the only dick she’s interested in is one she’s not going to get.

  But she’s sure as hell not going to let anyone else have it, either.

  I bet she hates Marc. I bet she’s polite to him and makes nice while she seethes and waits for the chance to break them up. God she’s pathetic, and she would never in a million years admit she’s in love with him but somehow thinks no one else can notice.

  Oh, I’m on to you, Miss Fag Hag. I’ve seen your type before. And before I’m done with you, you won’t even know what happened. You’re done. You’re not going to keep cock-blocking Dylan for the rest of your life.

  I wonder if she does coke.

  Ryan Bradford is doing some good business tonight, I bet. Plenty of people dancing with that clenched jaw or rubbing their noses, and maybe it’s time for me to do another line since I’m not going to fuck Dylan tonight, which is fine—I know how to play this; it’s so damned predictable it would be sad if it weren’t so easy and funny—he’ll want to know why I stayed away from him all night and I’ll say his Fag Hag, who I will have to call Joni, I can’t call her Fag Hag to him or maybe I can, I’ll have to see how it works out but I’ll let him know she made it clear I wasn’t welcome to hang out around them, and in fact, before I go find little Ricky and make him a man tonight I’ll dance over there so she can be a bitch to me so he can see it for himself.

  Stupid little fag hag, you can never outplay a fag.

  I head over to the kegs to get another beer. I see Phil coming back across the foyer with a shit-eating grin on his face and he meets me at the keg. I haven’t seen him in a while so I ask him where he’s been and he winks at me and says, “I got Kenny wasted and put him to bed in my room, so the coast is clear for you,” and this is exactly what I mean, little fag hag. You will always get outplayed by a gay man.

  Always.

  “Thanks,” I say as I get another beer and hand him the tap. I take a drink and wink at him. Time to show Dylan what a bitch his little hag really is. “Watch this.”

  The dance floor is crowded and the deejay has moved into his 1980s greatest hits set, which always starts with Billy Idol’s “Mony Mony,” which I am sick to death of listening to, and then it will be the Go-Go’s and the Romantics and Dead or Alive and everyone will dance and sing along like they’re the first people to know these songs or shout hey hey what get laid get fucked between every line of Billy Idol, and I roll my eyes as I work my way around drunk and stoned and coked dancers and try not to slip on the beer-slick floor and it’s so hot out there from all the body heat that I start sweating all over again and can feel sweat running down in the crack of my ass because I’m not wearing underwear, and I know my shorts are riding low and people can see the top part of my ass but that’s okay because I want them to and some dopey blond bitch runs her hand down my chest as I walk past her and I smile at her and keep going where Dylan is dirty dancing with the hag and Joey is grinding on Madison and she’s got that glazed look in her eyes because she can’t believe someone as hot as Joey wants to fuck her so she’s going to put out the way ugly girls will always put out to a hot guy because they have no self-esteem and they think fucking a hot guy will somehow magically turn them into a hot chick.

  And then I move around Joey and Madison, and Dylan sees me and he smiles and turns his back to me and wiggles his ass and I know he wants me to grind on him wants me to dry-hump right there on the dance floor and I see the anger flit across the hag’s face for a moment and she gets in between us pretending like she’s dancing and not doing what she is really doing and I just give her a weird look instead of laughing in her face and turn to Joey and Madison and start dancing with them and Joey yells “DUDE” right in my face and he reeks of sweat and pot and sour beer and we high-five each other and start dancing around Madison with me in front of her and him behind her and he’s grinding on her fat ass and I’m bumping and grinding and smiling at her and she puts both her wet hands on my chest and she looks dazed and I know she’s died and gone to heaven and if I was into that, me and Joey could take her back to his room and we could both have her and she’d be into it the way the not-so-pretty girls always are, and for a minute I think about it because I know Joey likes having his dick sucked so I could suck his dick while I fuck her and I could pretend she was a dude but I know I’m just high and drunk and horny and the last thing I’m ever sticking my dick into is a pussy.

  Been there done that, no thank you.

  Dylan turns around and looks confused because he was expecting me to be grinding on him and I’m not and he doesn’t understand why the hag is there instead of me and he meets my eyes and I just shrug and make an I-don’t-know face and he doesn’t look happy and I shrug again and kiss Madison on the top of her sweaty head and high-five Joey again and make
my way off the dance floor, and when I get to the big doorway to the foyer I look back over and Dylan is not happy and he is talking to the hag excitedly and she’s acting all defensive and this is a good time for me to duck out to my room for a line. I head down the hallway and put the key in my door and open the door and go inside and wipe myself down with a towel because I am soaked and I drop my shorts off and dry my ass and my balls and sit down at my desk naked and open the top drawer where I keep my mirror and there’s a little pile of coke on the side and I spread it out with my ATM card and make a line and pick up the hollowed-out pen and suck it all up in my right nostril and it explodes in my head and it tastes kind of like bubblegum and I feel my entire body tingling again and I pull out my little pipe as I can taste the drip on the back of my throat and I take a big hit off the pipe and exhale and when I’m finished coughing I take a drink of my beer and put the mirror back away after rubbing the residue on my gums to numb them and I close the drawer and I get up and look at myself in the mirror.

  I look fucking hot.

  I’d totally fuck me.

  My dick is getting hard.

  Some guys think coke gives you limp dick, but that’s never been a problem for me.

  I’m horny and I need to get laid.

  I find another pair of shorts and pull them on. I drain my beer and put my key in my front pocket and head back out to the party.

  I’m in luck because as soon as I close my door, Ricky stumbles through the swinging doors from the bathroom and he’s got a silly look on his face, goofy, and he’s lost his shirt at some point and he is hot, Phil was right, and my dick is getting harder and he gives me his goofy grin and stumbles down the hallway to me and puts both of his hands on my chest and says, “hey there, I think I’m wasted,” and I say, “yeah you kind of are, come on, let’s sit in my room for a minute,” and I unlock the door and steer him pretty easily to the bed and he falls down onto it and starts giggling and I tell him to not move I’m going to go get us both a beer and I can’t believe how easy all of this is, he just literally dropped into my lap but I’m not one to question fate or whatever the hell you want to call it, and I head back into the foyer and have to wait a minute for my beers behind some of my brothers who are wasted and probably should be cut off but it’s their hangover not mine and they’re shouting PARTY and WOO HOO at me and I smile back at them as they head back out onto the dance floor and now it’s the Romantics and “What I Like About You” and I wonder if the same deejay has been playing these songs at Beta Kappa parties since they were like actually hits being played on the radio and I don’t understand straight people at all they’d probably be pissed if these songs weren’t played and I carry the beers back down the hall and don’t bother to look for Dylan and the Hag because I don’t care the damage is done I planted the seeds and if there’s any luck in the world they won’t be speaking by the end of the night and she’s going to call him a whore at best and it’s not my problem, is it?