Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Come on, Wolf.” His hand fell to his side. “I know you guys supply the other frats. We just want a good party. Same as the rest of you.”
“And you think I give a shit about your parties?”
The gate behind us creaked, followed by the clang of metal. Winston’s gaze shot in the direction of the noise. His face went stark white, and he took a cautious step back. Followed by another. At least he wasn’t completely stupid.
“You…” Rogue rounded the bench, his finger pointed angrily at the dipshit. “Can fuck off! I told you before, your pussy-ass frat isn’t getting any pills.”
Winston froze like a memorial statue erected in honor of all entitled pricks who had come before him. “Come on, man.” His voice cracked. “You know, Tommy thought you’d broken up.”
Oh, wrong thing to say. Wrong thing to say… I bit the inside of my lip, waiting for Rogue to throw a punch. To my surprise, he dropped beside me on the bench.
“It has nothing to do with that.” It had everything to do with that shit. The flick of a lighter sounded. “I just don’t like your fucking frat.”
Lifting a brow, I turned to look at the billboard of petty, the blue sky behind him, sun shining. “Seriously, dude?” I leaned closer to Rogue. “We could make so much more money…” I whispered in a mocking tone. If he was willing to piss off Gator for the extra money he didn’t need, he couldn’t cherry pick clients.
Rogue’s eye twitched. “I don’t do business with shitheads.” He motioned toward Winston, still frozen a few feet away, money clutched in his hand. Rogue stood. The moment he took one menacing step forward, Winston took off, blades of grass kicking up in his wake.
A boom of laughter left our group as we watched the little rich boy flee.
“Seriously, dude,” I said, thumbing toward the cowardly cum stain. “He had cash. You are the second pettiest person I’ve met in my life.”
Hendrix Hunt would always hold first place in that regard…
“It’s called a smart business decision.” He tapped his temple. “Tommy is an untrustworthy asshole who would rat us out in a second.”
“All those frat assholes are untrustworthy. We still supply them.” Trust tended to be bought when they knew breaking it would result in a baseball bat to the knees.
“You know why Tommy was valedictorian of his wannabe-prep school? Because he paid off the proctor during final exams to accuse the competition of cheating.”
Jesus, him and his idea of corruption. Bellamy used to sell old exams to students in high school, and we all gave him shit for being a good Samaritan. Paying off someone to lie was literally nothing.
“We have a fake penguin charity to deal drugs and clean our money, for fuck’s sake,” I said.
“That’s not even close to the same thing.” Rogue ashed his joint, his attention drifting to the cheerleaders. “He’s a snake. Theta Kappa won’t get shit from us.”
Rogue’s not wanting to sell to that frat had nothing to do with Tommy being a “snake,” and everything to do with his ego.
Not that I could talk.
Mine had me stealing that Challenger and risking jail time.
Three
Jade
I turned down Cassie’s horrible pop music as my Jeep’s lone headlight reflected off the stop sign. It had been fourteen hours since Wolf stole that car from right under my nose, and now here I was, just down from the Omega Dicksolon house. Self-named, and stupidly so, by the frat president, Rogue Van De Kut, a disinherited rich boy.
Instead of being located on fraternity row, Omega Dicksolon was smack-dab in the middle of a neighborhood because it wasn’t a “real frat.” Nonetheless, it seemed to attract the most pledges and the most frat-chaser girls. Cassie included, apparently, seeing as she was screwing said rich asshole.
I found an open spot on the street and parked across from the two-story colonial-style house.
A few decades ago, it had probably been pretty. I could picture potted flowers and a wicker porch swing. Now, though, college students stumbled around the dark lawn with Solo cups, and colored lights from inside flickered over a guy clutching the broken porch railing and hurling into the dead bushes. The whole place was my personal hellscape. It still baffled me that Wolf and Bellamy had become involved with someone like Rogue Van de Kut. Sure, Bellamy was dating Rogue’s cousin, but Wolf used to hate rich kids—and frats. Then again, he used to have some kind of honor. The kind that followed the unspoken rule of, “Thou shalt not steal that which someone else wants to make a bonfire with.”
“You good?” Cassie asked from the passenger seat.
No, but I’d walk into that cesspool to rip Wolf a new asshole. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Just as I reached for my phone in the cupholder, it rang. Brent’s name flashed across the screen as if I needed more of a reason to be pissed off. I declined what must have been the tenth call from him that day.