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“So who do we have then?” Vysell asked.

“Just us four,” I answered nervously. “Hopefully Rawlings isn't committed yet. Maybe we can still get him. If we can, who's left?”

“Grossberg.”

“Who's side is he on?”

“He said he's abstaining. Not going to vote any pledge out no matter what.”

“So Rawlings is the key vote now,” I answered slowly, wondering how to get out of this mess. “We got to have Rawlings. Is there any chance we can get him to go with us?”

Rainey shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know but I don't
think so.”

“Why is he so loyal to Lyman?”

“Because Lyman helped him with his assignments all semester; even helped him with his term papers and got him through finals. He said plenty of times that he'd never have made grades without Lyman.”

“But all that's over now, right?”

Rainey nodded. “Yeah. But so what?”

“So I have something that Rawlings wants now.”

“What?”

“It's a secret. I'll deal with him directly.”

“But what about what Lyman did for him?”

I finally got a chance in this conversation to smile. “You idiot. Lyman is like yesterday's newspaper; Rawlings doesn't need him any more.”

_____

“Why aren't witnesses enough to prove it's a guy,” Bookie whined to Christianson.

Most of the actives and pledges were in the living room watching TV and listening to Bookie receive more phone calls than some radio talk-show hosts get in a week.

“Over two dozen people all said that Jody was a guy,” Bookie persisted. “Some even said they saw his dick.”

“Got to have better proof,” Christianson answered. “Bring him in or get a nude photo.”

Bookie's answer was interrupted by the ring of my cell phone. It was Gussie.

“Somebody's been calling the number on the poster to sell Jody's address but the line is always busy.”

“Wait a minute.”

I walked outside, onto the lawn. “Where's Jody now?” I whispered.

“Back at my place. But he'll be at your fraternity house waving hello to everybody with his eleven-inch dick as soon as I find your address unless we renegotiate our deal.”

“Now how much?”

“Three thousand within the hour. I'm not waiting any longer.”

“But it's nearly 5:15 now.”

“Want to see Jody flash your fucking friends?” she asked laughing before hanging up on me.

_____

5:45
P.M.

“She'll never stop bleeding you as long as Bookie's on the trail,” Vysell said, driving along with me and Batman heading to the pier again.

We hurried down the wooden-planked runway, rushing into Gussie's shop where the sound of a crying brat broke the silence.

“I'm back here,” came Gussie's voice. “Check my work.”

She was busy in the back room tattooing some topless bottle-blonde on the wrong side of forty, whose faint, dark mustache likely matched the hair below her waist. In red script, Gussie was printing the word HOT under this debutante's right nipple that was circled in red, orange, and yellow flames. Already under the left one was the word COLD, surrounded by about a dozen ice cubes.

This pig smiled proudly while occasionally moving the rusty handle of a baby buggy back and forth even though the little bastard in there kept screaming.

“Wait in front,” Gussie ordered. “Be done in a few minutes.”

Five minutes later Gussie joined us seconds before Castle walked in, carrying a pile of wanted posters.

“Reward's up to four thousand,” he said smugly. “Seem's Bookie will pay anything to get you guys out.”

An instant smile appeared on Gussie's greedy face. “Great.”

“You know where Jody is?” Castle asked anxiously.

“Maybe four thousand will make me remember.”

Castle handed Gussie a reward poster. “Good. Call the number here immediately.”

“Fuck you,” Vysell snorted at Castle before Castle turned
around and left.

As soon as the woman with the new plumbing directions on her tits wheeled out her screeching kid and paid Gussie and left, I didn't have to guess what was coming next.

“It's five grand now. Your last payment ever.”

I stared at her in silence for a few seconds before speaking in a loud whisper. “We'll be right back.”

The three of us huddled outside.

“When's this shit going to end?” Vysell asked. “She'll bleed you forever.”

I rubbed my nose in the damp night air. “Of course you're right but I've got a lot riding on this. Besides the three of us will get kicked out too.”

“So what're you going to do?” Batman asked anxiously.

I already knew. “You'll see. Come on back inside.”

The smug son-of-a-bitch already had the electronic charge machine in her hand.

“The card, sonny,” she demanded.

Reluctantly I handed it to her and she started punching in the numbers. Seconds later the words on the small black screen read CALL FOR APPROVAL. She quickly dialed an 800 number, spoke a few words into the phone and handed it to me.

Some guy with a big radio announcer's voice asked me a bunch of personal questions thinking I was my father whose name was on the card. Luckily I knew all the answers until he came to the last question:

“What's your social security number?”

I slammed the phone down in disgust.

Gussie's eyes got big. “What's the matter?”

I'd had it! I took a few steps toward her with my right arm outstretched, touching the mole on the side of her nose with my forefinger. “Listen you fucking bitch!” I snarled. My eyes tightened and my voice was a whisper like from
The Godfather
. “I already paid you, I don't even know how much, to keep your fucking mouth shut.” She kept backing up a little as each sentence was punctuated with my fingertip poking the tip of her nose again. “But you kept demanding more and more money
from me. Stupidly, I paid you. But no more.” By now her back was against the wall and she started twitching a little, finally showing the beginning of fear. “Now we got a new deal. Here's the good news: before Monday, if Jody shows up at the fraternity house or if a naked picture of his dick gets there, I'm going to assume you double-crossed me. Then I'm coming back here and burning this place down.”

This bitch was terrified now, breathing in short gasps while standing ramrod-stiff with her eyes opened fully wide like she was in a trance picturing the fire. She was silent as I continued.

“Now the bad news: After I burn down your shop, I'm going to your trailer on Stewart Street, space 425 and burn down that fucking trailer too. And you know when?”

She shook her head weakly.

“When you're sound asleep on your futon, you dirty blackmailing cunt!”

8:00
P.M
.

A
DAMS WAS SMILING, STANDING THERE IN THE PLEDGE DORM,
looking down at all of us seated on the cold floor. He looked directly at me.

“So far, Bookie's got a lot of tips, but nothing solid. A woman called half an hour ago claiming that the person in the photo is her son and she's bringing him here sometime tonight.”

I didn't answer as Adams looked over at Batman and Vysell who sat there silently.

“Anyway,” he continued, “tonight's Pledge Elimination Night, the worst night for the pledges because you guys are going to vote out one of your own pledge brothers.”

Everybody was wearing their regular clothes except me. For some reason when I got here tonight Parker made me change into the same Marine Corps camouflage uniform that they made me wear on Costume Night.

I kept trying to sneak looks at Rawlings for some kind of sign to see what side he was on. He didn't know it but he held the fate of my five million in his forty-five IQ brain. It was unfair as hell. And Grossberg was a big question mark, too. He couldn't ride the fence forever either.

Grossberg looked real concerned about something. “What if we don't vote anybody out?” he asked Adams. “What then?”

Adams took another drag from his cigarette. He was holding it as usual, like he was cupping a joint. He exhaled slowly, looking directly into Grossberg's eyes. “It happened once, about two years ago.”

“So what'd you do?”

“We passed a rule that if a pledge doesn't vote anybody out, he's the pledge that gets voted out.”

“Shit,” Grossberg muttered, looking away. “That's not fair.”

“Yeah, well, look who's in the White House.”

Adams reached into the front pocket of his red plaid shirt and removed some playing cards held together with a rubber band. “I'll call out everybody's name and when I do, take the card I hand you.”

He reached into his other shirt pocket and took out a small sheet of paper. One-by-one he called out each guy's name and handed each of us a card face down. Mine was the eight of clubs.

He held up the white sheet of paper for an instant. “We got a list of what pledge got what card so we can see how each of you voted. But keep the vote secret among each other.”

From the back pocket of his khakis, he removed a bunch of black felt tip pens also held together with a rubber band. He passed them out too.

“I'm leaving now. Meanwhile, each of you guys write on the top of the card the pledge's name that you want kicked out. I'll be back in a few minutes to pick them up. Then we'll start Daisies and The Ritual.” He left the room and closed the door behind him.

The tension in the room was electric. Both factions were divided by an invisible line on the floor with Rawlings as the pivotal vote, too dumb to know it, and with Grossberg still a big question mark.

Grossberg stood up facing everybody. “They're testing us. I'm sure of it.”

“But what if they're not?” Rickshaw Boy asked. “You willing
to get booted to find out?”

Grossberg bit his lip as he looked around. “We've come a long way together. I really like all you guys. I'm not voting anybody out. The hell with that. I'll take my chances.”

“Me too,” Dung squeaked. “I love all you guys. I'm not voting nobody out either.”

“Me either,” I said, mimicking Dung. Then one-at-a-time, I looked at the group that hated me. “I love all you guys.”

“I agree with Grossberg,” Castle said. “They're bluffing.”

“So what do we do?” Batman asked.

“Let's each guy write nobody on the card,” I suggested, looking around. “They'll never kick everybody out; especially Grossberg. He held the whole pledge class together all semester.”

Adams walked back in before anybody said anything else. “Give me the cards,” he said, reaching his outstretched hand toward Castle who was next to him.

“We didn't vote yet,” Grossberg said. “We were just about to.”

Adams looked impatient. “Everybody do it now. Spread out a little so nobody sees what anybody else writes. When you're done, leave the card face-down on the floor. I'll pick them up. Remember: voting out nobody means that it's your ass that goes.”

We made a good showing of moving away from everybody else and wrote the victim's name on the card, turning it face-down afterward. Adams bent over, picking up each card carefully so as not to show us what was written on it.

As soon as he collected them, he put them into his shirt pocket. “Everybody go downstairs and stop at the bottom.”

When we got to the bottom landing, Adams said, “Grossberg, you get in the front of the line. Everybody else behind him single-file.”

I was about in the middle of the line, behind Batman and in front of Lyman.

As soon as we formed a line, Adams said, “Left hand on the left shoulder of the guy in front of you.” As soon as we did that,
he stood in front of Grossberg, who put his left hand on Adams' left shoulder. “Here's the directions: as you walk up the stairs, you chant in unison:
Pushing up the daisies, pushing up the daisies, where will I be in a hundred years from now?
Let's try it.”

We slowly walked up the stairs saying that stupid chant.

“When we get to the top of the stairs,” Adams called out, still leading the march, “stay in line, slowly turn around and go to the bottom. Then you turn around and start over again. And remember, all the time you march, you keep the chant going too.”

We made one continuous round trip. “Stop,” Adams directed. As soon as we stopped, he asked, “Any questions?”

“How long we got to do this?” Castle asked. “I'm tired already.”

“Until the last guy's Ritual is finished.”

“What's a Ritual?” Dung asked.

“Where the actives question each pledge individually before the final vote.”

“What if we get too tired to keep marching and chanting?” Castle-the-idiot, persisted.

“Then you can stop and sit down and rest, then get a beer and then get the fuck out of here. Anyway, at least one guy's getting kicked out tonight anyhow. Maybe more. Who knows?”

Right when I almost forgot about Jody and his mother, Bookie came walking in from the Chapter Room smirking. He looked at all of us but at me the longest.

“Lady who said she's the faggot's mother called again a few minutes ago. For the four grand reward, she's driving all the way here from San Diego. Said she's got some naked pictures of her son that somebody posted on the Internet. Christianson said that's proof enough.”

Fuck!

_____

It seemed like we'd been marching and chanting for a couple of hours already.

“Time, Castle,” Grossberg called out.

“Ten-twenty,” Castle answered from the back of the line.

Adams came out of the Chapter Room and walked over to us. Naturally we stopped everything.