The Shameless Hour (21 page)

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:

Several things happened at once.

There was a roar of surprise and laughter from the opposite side of the stadium and a scramble as everyone reached for his or her phone. In the student section, people were holding up the souvenir cups and passing them around for inspection.

Lianne’s models began their speedy getaway, jogging quickly down the stairs. But their progress was slowed by all the other people crowding those steps, coming and going from the bathrooms and concession stands. Bella and Lianne stayed put, watching their girls retreat, like captains willing to go down with the ship.

“Come on,” I whispered to myself. The sooner Bella was out of there, the better. I saw her rise to follow the last model down the steps, and I tracked her progress as she wove through the crowd. I found myself walking slowly toward the staircase, as if to meet her at the bottom.

That’s when I saw him — a guy I recognized from the Casino Night party at Beta Rho. He was wearing his football jacket slung over his shoulders because one of his arms was in a sling. The jacket had “Whittaker” printed on the arm. In his good hand he held a molded tray with three drinks on it.

His face broke open in shock as he took in the sight of his fraternity’s declaration. And then his features morphed into rage. “What the FUCK?” I heard him yell. “Guys! Put those down!”

Now I was moving faster, weaving between people, trying to get to Bella.

“Hey, watch it!” somebody said as I swerved past.

There was no time to apologize because Whittaker was sweeping the stands with his eyes, his mouth still open from shock. He was turning… toward Bella, who had almost made it down to ground level.

I ran the last few paces, deciding not to slow down as I approached him. Instead? I collided with his drink tray, smacking right into him. The result was an instant curse, followed by the splash of soda all over my upper body.

“You asshole!” Whittaker yelled. “What the…”

“Oops,” I said quickly. I righted what was left of the tray in his hands. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. Can I buy you another one?” As I apologized, I braced myself for a punch. I’d gotten him all wet, too.

But the dude couldn’t decide where to put his eyes or his temper. His baffled gaze kept jumping between the soda running down his arm and the horrors of his fraternity’s unfortunate public statement. “Hey!” he yelled toward someone in the stands. “Who did this?”

He tried to step around me, but I blocked him, because I couldn’t see whether Bella was clear of the place yet.

“Look,” I said, taking a ten out of my pocket. “Take this, I’m sorry about the drinks.”

“Whatever, asshole. Just
move it
.”

I tucked the ten in his shirt pocket and then cut around him, heading for the exits.

Neither Bella nor Lianne was anywhere in sight. By the time I made it out to the tailgate lot again, the van’s engine had started, its taillights glowing cheerily in the evening light.

Feeling the first whiff of relief, I watched it drive away.

I
drove
the van through the streets of Harkness while laughing like a maniac.

Apparently the body’s physiological response to getting away with pranking a fraternity was an epic attack of the giggles. I hadn’t giggled so much since the ninth grade, but here I was, losing my shit in the driver’s seat, while Lianne lost hers beside me. And in the seats behind us, a dozen models laughed and chattered among themselves.

“Oh God, these shots are perfect,” Lianne said between laughing jags. “Your friend Graham sent photos
and
a video. I can’t wait to see these in high-res. There’s a bunch of texts from him, too.”

“What do they say?”

“There’s… ‘Oh my God, Oh my God. You are a genius. Best idea since fortune cookies.’”

That one made me laugh.

“And the last one says ‘marry me.’”

I snorted. “There was a time when I would have.”

“Really? I need to meet this guy.”

“I’m sure you will. And his boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.” I stopped at the last traffic light before the train station. My heart was still thumping with adrenaline, even though the fun part of our mission was over. It was just dawning on me that maybe I was about to get into
so
much trouble. Anyone from Beta Rho could have spotted me in the van with the models, or sitting across the aisle at the game. “Hey, Lianne? Can you see us in the pictures Graham sent?”

She manipulated my phone, squinting down at the screen. “Yeah, but just barely. And we’re off to the side. And so what?”

“I’m not letting you take the fall for this,” I said, already bracing for the consequences.

Lianne reached across the gear box and put a hand on my arm. “You do
not
need to worry about me. I’m serious. If this gets out, my manager will be pissed, but my publicist will do a happy dance.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m her most boring client. I mean, it’s not like she wants to see me land in rehab. But it’s hard to get media attention for someone who never leaves her room.”

I swung the van into the train station drop-off circle and killed the engine. Lianne turned around in her seat. “Thank you for your service, ladies. It’s been a pleasure. Paychecks are coming from your agency.”

One of the models opened the sliding door and another called out a question. “Can we keep the sweatshirts?”

“Sure!” I called. “But I wouldn’t wear them on the train. It’s unlikely, but there could be Beta Rho guys onboard, and they might give you a hard time.”

“Oh, I’m wearing mine,” said a statuesque redhead named Amber. “Fuck it.”

That set us off on another round of laughing, and the models climbed out of the van. Lianne shut the door behind them and I drove off again.

The final steps in our plan took another hour and also made me feel like a criminal.

In a dumpster behind the van rental place, we threw away the extra Beta Rho shirts and the instructions we’d printed out for the models. Then, after checking the van for incriminating evidence, we turned it in. Finally, we called a taxi to take us back to campus.

“I’m starving,” Lianne admitted while we rode back in the cab. “Let’s order something the minute we get home.”

“But the dining hall is serving for another fifteen minutes,” I pointed out. “We can just run in there right now.”

“Well, okay,” Lianne said quietly.

When we walked into the dining hall entryway, Lianne went straight instead of climbing the stairs. “Um, where are you going?” I asked.

She spun around, looking sheepish. “Lead the way.”

“How have you never been to the dining hall?” I demanded. “It’s
November
.”

Her face closed down. “I just order in. It’s easier.”

“March.” I pointed at the granite steps. “You just need your ID. It doesn’t get any easier than that.” I showed her where to swipe in at the doorway, then herded her into the kitchen for a tray. “And don’t forget silverware,” I said. “That’s a rookie mistake.”

An older woman behind the serving counter lifted a plate off the stack. “What’ll it be?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” Since a look of horror was dawning on Lianne’s face, I pointed toward the doorway. “Don’t panic. There’s a salad bar out in the dining room. And the soup is right there.” I nodded at the self-serve pot.

“Hold up,” the serving-line lady said, her spoon halting above the meatballs. “You look
just
like that girl in those movies. The magic princess.”

“Mmm,” Lianne said noncommittally. Then she put her head down and wandered toward the soups.

When my plate was handed over, I thanked the server and turned to find Lianne waiting for me. She had a bowl of Mexican chicken soup and an anxious frown. “Come on,” I said.

In the dining room, I spotted Graham at a table with Rikker and Corey Callahan. There was only space for one, but I stopped for a second anyway. “Hey, guys!”

Corey slipped her tray to the edge of the table and then stood. “Hey! I’m on my way out,” she said. “Take this spot…” her voice trailed off when she realized who was standing next to me. “Oh, um, hi,” she said, recovering quickly. “I’m Corey.”

“Hi,” Lianne said softly.

I put my tray down. “Corey, Graham, Rikker, this is Lianne.”

“Hey,” the guys said. But Corey was still staring.

“Do you need help with that?” I asked, pointing at her tray. She walked with a cane, and once in a while she needed an assist if there were too many things to balance on the tray.

But she seemed to snap out of it. “Nope. No problem. And congratulations!” She gave me a big smile. “Graham was just telling me about…”

I gave my head a quick shake. “I wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Of
course
you wouldn’t. How ridiculous.” With another big smile, she hefted her tray in one hand and carefully moved toward the exit.

“That was…” Graham was grinning at me, too. He whispered the last word. “
Spectacular
.”

Rikker leaned in close to me. “Would it have killed you to
warn
a few people? I never go to football games. And I’m pissed that I missed it.”

Graham squeezed his wrist. “But I got excellent pictures. After dinner I’m going over to the newspaper to file my story. Front page, of course.”

My stomach gave a nervous flutter. “We are in such deep shit.” I yanked the other chair out for Lianne. “Sit down already. Wait — I promised you rabbit food. The salad bar is right there.”

Lianne set her tray down and walked toward the salad bar in the center of the room.

Then the weirdest thing happened. At the table nearest to the salad bar, I saw a couple of people nudge each other. The whole table went quiet. The same thing happened at the next table. Thirty seconds later, everyone who sat lingering over the last half hour of Sunday dinner was staring at Lianne.

“Wait,” Graham said, following my gaze. “She looks really familiar. Isn’t she that…?”

“Yeah,” I said. “She’s my neighbor on the fourth floor.”

He sat back in his chair. “She’s in
Beaumont
House? I’ve never seen her before.”

I reached across the table and gave his hand a warning stab with my fork. “Don’t stare.”

Lianne returned a minute later, sitting down with her salad. After a few beats, the ambient sound of conversation returned to the room.

“That was trippy,” I said.

She sighed, lifting her soup spoon. “I had this weird idea that I could just blend in here. It took me about an hour on move-in day to figure out that wasn’t true.”

“I think it is,” I insisted. “But you have to actually
blend
if you want to blend. If you came in here every night, it wouldn’t be interesting.”

“I have no idea how to blend,” Lianne admitted. “I’ve never gone to school before.”

“
What?
” Rikker sputtered. “That’s impossible.”

Lianne shook her head. “I finished kindergarten in a regular school. After that, my mother dragged me to whichever continent she thought would amuse her most. I had private tutors. And then I
worked
all the way through high school. The only people I saw every day wore capes.”

“Wow. I thought my high school years were fucked,” Rikker muttered.

Lianne waved a hand, as if brushing the whole conversation aside. “Thanks for sending us the pictures, Graham,” she said.

He grinned. “You were in on it, too?”

“She was my partner in crime,” I said. “The models were her idea.”

“And the sweatshirts,” she added.

“The
cleavage
,” I agreed.

“Remind me never to piss you two off,” Rikker said. “Can I tell the team that you’re my new idol?”

“I wish,” I said. “But please don’t. I have to be careful.”

Graham’s face got serious. “Shit, you’re right.” He tapped my hand. “There’s your hot neighbor.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rafe remove a couple of pans from the salad bar. How anyone could look that good doing kitchen work was really a mystery.

“He stood guard today,” Lianne said. “I saw him.”

“
Did
he now?” Rikker asked, smiling at me.

“Yep,” Lianne said even as I kicked her under the table. “He’d like to help Bella with some other things, too. But she turned him down.”

“Lianne,” I warned. “What do you care?”

“Because,” she said, with a toss of her shiny hair. “The tension is
killing
me. You two look at each other like you wished clothing was never invented. When we’re all in the same room, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“Well you’re
not
,” I insisted.

“Uh-huh.” Lianne stabbed an olive on her plate.

“New topic,” I suggested. “What is your newspaper article going to say?”

Graham chuckled. “Let’s see. We lost the game, because our quarterback threw three interceptions. Also, two hundred Beta Rho brothers proclaimed themselves to be idiots. And nobody argued.”

“I dare you to write that, babe,” Rikker said.

“Oh, I’m going to. I need a good headline, though. ‘Frat Gets Bitchslapped’ probably won’t make it past the editorial board.”

“That’s missing the point, anyway,” I argued. “‘Frat Bitchslaps
Itself
While Ogling Models’ Boobs.’ Nobody made them do it.”

“True, but that’s too many characters for the headline typeface,” Graham said. “I’ll think of something, though.”

“I’m sure you will.” I cut a meatball with my fork. “Hey, Lianne? I signed for a FedEx package for you yesterday. I forgot to tell you, but I left it in the bathroom so that you’d see it.”

“Cool. It’s a script.”

“Yeah? A new film?”

She shook her head. “A play. Romeo and Juliet. Isn’t it funny that they FedExed me a copy for Saturday delivery? As if I couldn’t find a copy in Harkness, Connecticut.”

“You’re playing Juliet? Do you have to stab yourself in the heart with a dagger?”

“Yep!” She jabbed her salad with glee. “That’s the best part.”

“Can I watch? When is this happening?”

“Over Christmas. And you
can
watch, because it’s at the Public Theater.”

I dropped my napkin. “You’re doing Juliet at the Public Theater? You
are
fancy.”

“It’s a good gig,” she admitted. “I’m doing it because there’s a part I want in a new film adaptation of Shakespeare. But it sure kills Christmas break. I’ll have ten days of rehearsal and then fifteen performances.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It’ll be a grind. But, hey! New and different take-out foods.”

“And New York,” Rikker offered. “You can’t beat that.”

She shrugged again. “New York is fine. But I’m not looking forward to staying in a hotel for three weeks.”

“Why not?” Graham asked. “Sounds like easy living.”

My neighbor looked uncomfortable. “It’s not enough privacy. My manager is, like, Hitler. And he can just walk through the front door anytime he wants.”

Her manager must be a serious piece of work She almost sounded afraid of him. “Lianne? Do you need a place to stay? I have a guest room. You’d have to share a bathroom with me. It would be just like we have it now.”

She gave me the side eye. “For three weeks? Your parents would freak.”

“No they wouldn’t,” Graham said, crumpling up his napkin. “Bella’s got the whole second floor of this sick townhouse to herself since her bitch of a sister moved out.”

Rikker nudged my foot under the table. “I want to stay at Hotel Bella sometime. Where’s my invite?”

“Come. Seriously. If you visit over Christmas, we can see a Rangers game. You too, Lianne. If you don’t want to be in a hotel, stay with me. Your manager can kiss my ass.”

She stared at me, her face coloring. “Wow. I’m liking this plan. Now finish your carbs. We need to get home and see how many pictures of this got tweeted already. And I want to edit Graham’s video.”

“We can’t post it under our own names,” I said quickly.

“You think?” She rolled her eyes. “I want it for posterity. The music will be a tricky choice, though. I can’t think of any songs about stupid frat boys.”

“‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’” Graham suggested.

“Huh.” My neighbor looked thoughtful. “I’ll try it on.”

W
hen we got
up to leave, the dining hall was almost empty. The four of us deposited our trays on the conveyor belt then headed for the door.

“Wait up.”

I turned to find Rafe walking towards me. Everyone stopped, which meant there were four pairs of eyes watching him approach. And I probably wasn’t the only one who noticed how perfectly his faded jeans clung to his hips or how taut all that muscle looked underneath his Harkness T-shirt. “Hi,” I said, feeling self-conscious.

“Hey.” He hesitated, those dark eyes studying me. It was going to be awkward between us for a while. There was no getting around it. “I, uh, just wanted to suggest that you don’t go anywhere alone for the next couple of days,” he said.

I held Rafe’s gaze, but I swear I could feel my three friends nudging each other behind me. “I’m not, um, alone,” I pointed out.

“Good,” he said, wiping his hands on the towel he held. “Just be careful, okay? We don’t know how pissed off they are. I’m stuck here another half hour, but…”