I stepped around the corner and let my considerable height and width fill the arched doorway. “We having a meeting?”
Hushed silence filled the room, and I felt all eyes on me. I didn’t look around. Not yet. Instead, I stared straight at Con, who was standing at the podium.
My spot. The president’s spot.
“I’ve called a house meeting,” Con announced.
I didn’t like his haughty tone.
“Kinda hard to have an Omega meeting without the Omega president,” I said casually.
“Under the bylaws of Omega house, as written by our founding fathers,” Conner stated as if he had rehearsed this speech a hundred times before, “I am exercising my right stated under the presidential code of conduct that any house member can make a movement to have any president voted out of his position with due cause.”
I chuckled. He was trying to get me unseated.
How cute.
I was pretty sure the sound of my laughter raised the hair on the backs of some necks in here because people started shifting uncomfortably and clearing their throats.
“And what due cause are you claiming to have?” I lifted my eyebrow and stared directly at Con.
“Disloyalty to Omega.”
I laughed again. This time it was a little deeper, a little harsher sound. I pushed out of the doorway and stepped farther into the room. “Is that so?” I drawled.
Some of the confidence Conner carried just seconds ago seemed to evaporate, and a look of doubt crossed his eyes.
Good.
“So you think I’ve been disloyal to this house?” I stated, making sure my voice carried over the entire room. “You claim I’m somehow a traitor to my own brotherhood and therefore should be unseated as the president, a position I’ve held for almost two years?”
“He wants you out of the frat completely.” One of the upperclassmen nearby spoke up.
I crossed my arms over my chest. It was getting harder to contain my anger. This was some serious shit.
I moved to the podium, walking with deliberate care. When I got there, I stood right at Con’s back, my excessive height and weight towering over him, and I enjoyed it. “You’re in my way,” I intoned.
He moved.
Once in my rightful place at the podium, I made it a point to make eye contact for several seconds with everyone in the room. Some of them were hesitant to look back. I just stared at them until they relented.
I would not be pushed around in this house. Hells no. I would not be pushed around by some angry lower classman that was acting like someone took away his shovel in the sandbox.
“On this day, my loyalty to the Alpha Omega frat of Alpha University has been called into question. The accuser, presidential candidate Conner Nichols, under bylaw three five section one, has called a house meeting.” I glanced back at the turd. “I assume you planned on taking a vote?”
He nodded curtly.
“I’d like to know the evidence you have to support my alleged disloyalty.”
Conner’s face flushed. “You left brothers’ night! It’s a sacred and time-honored tradition.”
“Ah.” I turned my back to him. “This past Friday was brothers’ night. I left. Something came up, and I needed to leave. It was the first brothers’ night I’ve ever missed in my four years at this fraternity.”
Low murmurs went around the table.
Conner took that as a sign he was losing and making himself look like an ass. “That’s not all!” he shot out. “He’s stretched himself way too thin! He puts other people—people who are not members of this house—ahead of his own brothers! As a president, the men in this house should come above ALL others. This weekend was just an example of how you put us second!”
I kept my back turned to Con because I was sure if I looked at him, I’d deck him in the face. “I don’t like the fact my integrity is being called into question here.” The anger in my voice could not be missed. “I’ve spent the better part of two years dedicating myself to this fraternity. I’m the one who built the case against Zach to get him out. I’m the one who made sure there was sufficient evidence to make sure he stayed gone. I spend hours and hours every single week going to meeting after meeting and representing this house in a respectable manner.
“We all know once Zach left, no one wanted to associate with us. The Omega name was sullied. I’m the one who turned that around. I fought to get us invites, to get us to events where people could see us doing good. If you want to question my dedication to this frat, perhaps I should pass around the official logbook. Every single hour I spend on Omega business is documented. If that isn’t enough, I’d be happy to call the dean, on his personal cellphone, and ask him on this fine Sunday morning what he thinks of this bullshit.”
My chest was heaving when I finished talking. Shit. I was pissed.
“Maybe we should call Drew. Ask him how much time you spend with him.” Conner taunted.
Like a frayed string, I snapped. My hands made a sharp sound when I slapped them on the podium and gripped the edges until the wood dug into my hands.
“Just what the fuck are you implying?” I growled.
“That maybe the brothers of this house don’t want to be represented by a fag.”
The earsplitting sound of wood cracking splintered through the room when the podium hit the floor. I spun so fast to face Conner that my vision was actually blurry.
But I could still see enough.
“What did you just say to me?” I bit out.
His eyes widened.
Before he could say anything, I grabbed him up by the front of his shirt and lifted. His feet came up off the ground easily, and he dangled there like an empty piñata.
I couldn’t stop myself. I was like a train already derailed.
The sound my fist made plowing into his face gave me nothing but satisfaction. When I let go of his shirt, he sagged to the ground, and I yanked my arm back again.
I was so enraged I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel.
Hurt. Anger. Confusion. Betrayal.
“Whoa!” A few of the upperclassmen who’d been with me since rush restrained me and pulled me back.
Con sat up and pressed his fingers to the gash on his cheekbone. I’d split the skin open with the force of my hit.
The blood was what brought me down off the ledge. The sight of the red stuff oozing out of his face and the look of it on the tips of his fingers.
I didn’t regret it. Like fuck I would.
I wanted—no, I itched—to punch him again. But once could be considered a lack of judgement. Twice would be considered a choice.
“I’m good,” I said to the guys holding me. “I’m straight.”
Reluctantly, they let go but stayed at my sides. I turned to the rest of the men all sitting there and watching with interest.
“It’s clear to me the real traitor in this house is the douche who’s trying to get me cast out secretly. I find it funny he didn’t find fault with my leadership until Friday night when I backed Jack for president, not him.”
Another murmur went around the room.
“But I digress. Y’all want me out, it’s your call. Just know I won’t be around to clean up the mess he makes next year like I was when Zach left.” To the guy next to me, I said, “Put it to a vote.”
He cleared his throat and stepped forward. “All those in favor of dethroning the current president of Alpha Omega, say aye.”
No one said shit.
I made sure I waited several long, silent minutes to make it clear as day that Conner was a complete loser.
“That’s bullshit!” he spat and jumped to his feet.
“All those in favor of removing Conner as a presidential candidate for the upcoming election, say aye,” I boomed over the room.
Everyone lifted their hands and spoke.
I glanced at Con. “You’re out.”
“You can’t do that!” he cried like the little bitch he was.
; “Since you seem so familiar with the bylaws and codes of this fraternity, I am sure you are well aware that I can.”
“You can’t kick me out!”
“You’re not out,” I said mildly. “You’re still a brother, but you won’t be president of this house.”
He started to say something, but I made a slashing motion in the air with my hand, and he flinched.
“We now have only one candidate for house president,” I stated. “Is there anyone who would like to throw their name in the ring for election? You will be welcomed.”
Conner laughed. “Are you kidding? Everyone is scared of you now!”
“The only person who should be scared of me is you,” I replied.
“That was a threat!”
“I didn’t hear any threat,” the guy beside me said. Everyone else started to say the same.
“Anyone?” I asked after a few moments.
No one came forward.
I glanced at Jack. “That means Jack will be our next president. Hope you’re up for the job.”
“I’ll do my best,” he spoke out.
Conner started talking again.
“Get him the fuck out of my sight!” I yelled.
He was carted away.
“We’ll still hold a formal vote to make it official,” I said to the remaining men in the room. “And I’ll start mentoring him now.”
Everyone nodded and shifted like they weren’t sure what to do.
I cleared my throat. “I’d like to thank everyone here for their loyalty today. You did the right thing by not following him. I’m thinking that’s enough house drama for one day. Meeting adjourned. Enjoy what’s left of your weekend.”
No one left the room. It was like they were all glued into place.
I glanced down at the cracked podium.
“We’ll take care of that,” my buddies offered.
“Thanks. I’m just gonna go get some air. Be right back.” I walked out of the room, my neck prickling the entire way.
Soon as I turned the corner for the front door, people started talking. It was low whispers. Some excited and some filled with awe.
I heard the word “gay” whispered by more than one man.
I walked right out the front door into the frigid morning air.
I kind of sensed what Con believed on Friday when he told me to say hi to Drew. Such innocent words spoken with so much underlying meaning.
I ignored him. I thought he was just being an asshole. I never thought of it as a threat.
Not only had that little pecker head just tried to get me kicked out of my own damn fraternity, but he also told everyone I was gay—and he said it using language that made me cringe.
I wasn’t gay.
I yanked my cell out of my back pocket and texted Drew.
Can’t make it to breakfast. Frat business.
Everything okay? he texted back.
Yeah. TTYL.
After my terse reply, I shut my phone off and shoved it back in my pocket. I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.
Especially Drew.
I wasn’t gay.
Except… maybe I was.
Drew
The day job was the actual equivalent to a soul-sucking grim reaper.
Every morning I got up and put on my dress pants and button-down shirts. I had a drawer full of ties with stripes and “professional” patterns. I hated wearing a tie. What was the point? Like a scrap of silk hanging around my neck was supposed to make me more capable of doing my job?
Felt more like a noose.
Some days when I got to work and the boss wasn’t there, I took it off and shoved it in my desk drawer. And every day, I wore my leather jacket on the drive to the office because at least it made me feel a little bit more like me.
It was getting harder and harder to get up every morning and go to a job I really hated.
Okay, to be fair, I didn’t hate the actual job. I didn’t mind messing around on computers. I was good at it. But doing it all day, every day, to the tune of someone else’s instructions?
Fucking torture.
I needed this job. It paid well, even for a basic position, not at some fancy company like my father wanted me to be at. That’s why I stayed. With the salary I was paid, I was able to cover the portion of the rent and shit at the house and still have a lot left over, which I could put into my car.
Granted, I probably wouldn’t have so much left for the car if I had to pay actual rent. Especially for a house like the one I lived in. A four-bedroom, two-story in one of the best neighborhoods in the entire state. We had our own gym, an updated kitchen, big family room with a fireplace, and a fenced-in backyard. The driveway was big enough for all our cars, and there was even room in the garage for me to store all the tools and shit I used on the Mustang.
‘Course, I wished I could park my car in the garage, but that’s where Romeo’s lime-green Hellcat was kept.
I wasn’t mad about it, though. The guy paid an entire year of the rent up front and then moved in the entire family (except Trent). The only thing all of us split was the utilities. So yeah, I was lucky because I had a lot left over for my car and shit.
I wasn’t sure how much longer we’d be living here, though.
Romeo and Braeden were building some big house they were calling a “compound.” It was a huge place with a wall around the entire property (which was several acres).
For realz.
Being they were both pro football players and now my sister had her own column with People magazine and a popular YouTube channel (all about fashion and girl stuff), the press never left them alone.
Soon as Ivy announced she was pregnant with my niece (a total surprise, by the way), the plans for the compound were moved up, because everyone agreed we all needed the privacy and the protection.
Rimmel, Romeo’s wife, had been through a lot of shit over the years, and Romeo was like a freaking lion with a den full of cubs when it came to protecting her. Even though they didn’t have kids, the press hounded her, following her around and sometimes staking out the animal shelter she ran just hoping for a picture of a “baby bump” she didn’t have.
Hell, even on pancake Sunday, it was getting hard to have a family meal because my family was a bunch of celebrities.
Soon as the house was done, this place wouldn’t be needed anymore, so I wasn’t sure where I’d go. I’d probably just rent my own apartment or maybe a one-bedroom house with a garage for my car.
I’d been putting aside money out of every paycheck so I’d have a decent amount saved for a deposit and shit.
I think Ivy assumed I’d be coming to the compound with her and the fam. I wasn’t sure that was in the cards for me. I didn’t want to impose on the couples. Sometimes I felt like a fifth wheel. Not that I’d ever say that to my sister. She’d give me a lecture.
I’d miss the baby, though… My niece totally stole my heart from the day she was born. I’d never been a kid person, but she wasn’t just a kid.
Nova had me wrapped around her tiny pink finger.
Sometimes I was on uncle duty with her so B and Ivy could get out and be alone. I liked it, though. She was a good listener, and unlike most women, she never gave me crap.
I figured that might change when she started talking, but I’d enjoy it while I could.
Maybe after Trent graduated, I’d see if he wanted to throw in on a rental with me.
He’d been quiet lately.
I’d barely talked to him since we got back from the meeting with Gamble. He texted to bow out of pancake Sunday, and I hadn’t talked to him at all the rest of the day. When I texted him this morning, he hadn’t answered, so I called.
Fuck how early the clock said it was. He always answered my texts.
I didn’t realize how uptight I’d been feeling until his gruff, half-asleep voice came on the line. Even if he was being a grouchy bastard, just hearing his voice relaxed me.
We didn’t talk long ‘cause he was sti
ll half asleep (and a grouchy bastard) and I had to go to work and protect my soul. I asked him if everything was okay. He said it was.
I wasn’t sure I believed him. Something was up. I wanted to know what it was.
I’d looked at my phone several times today. And the clock. I knew T’s schedule. We’d been friends long enough I knew his general daily routine. Every time I knew he was in between classes, at lunch, or likely not to be in the middle of something, I picked up my phone.
I set it back down right after, though.
I didn’t text him. I didn’t call.
He didn’t either. He was avoiding me.
I was starting to think I was avoiding him, too.
Maybe that’s why I was in even more of a disgruntled mood today. Maybe it wasn’t just the tie around my neck, this stupid desk, the bright glow of the desktop computer in front of me, and the shitty coffee at my elbow. Might as well drink an ashtray.
“Seriously, though!” I yelled over my cubby. “Who made this coffee?”
The only reply was a few muffled laughs and some mumbled agreements.
On my lunch break, I flipped through the latest issue of GearShark and read the feature article on Roger Bones, the new king of NASCAR.
It didn’t help my mood either.
The more excited I got for our new revolution in racing and bringing the underground scene out of the dark, the more pissy I felt toward the pros.
There was a clear line drawn between the two groups. On one side lived the pro racers, loaded with sponsors and money. They got the spotlight and all the attention. Then on the other side were all the indie drivers like me. We weren’t “professional” because we didn’t have the money and the backing of big companies. Because my leather jacket didn’t have a million logos proving my substance, I wasn’t worth a dime.
What a double standard.
I did the work. I drove more than the pros did. They didn’t get as much track time as I logged on the streets weekly. They likely didn’t do the work on their own cars because they had a team to do it for them. They didn’t have to get out there and talk to pit crews, men who worked at the raceways, etc. because they already had the attention they needed.
#Junkie (GearShark #1) Page 11
