Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Dude, really? It’s generous, but… Really?
My stomach drops. Why am I getting all these thank you texts? I have to ask.
When his answer arrives, it’s even worse than I would have guessed.
Your dad sent everyone a $50 gift card for the Darby Brew Pub. Kinda glad you didn’t know about it. Because it’s kind of an asskisser thing to do.
What the fuck?
Please tell me you’re joking. Are you sure it’s from us?
A minute later I get a screenshot of Tanner’s email. Your gift card is waiting, courtesy of Keaton Hayworth Jr.
I let out a loud groan. So much for paradise.
I jump off my lounger and stomp inside the villa, where my parents are side-by-side, drinking coffee and reading their respective books. “You sent everyone gift cards?” I accuse my father. “Bribing them? What were you thinking?”
“It wasn’t a bribe,” he replies, chuckling. “It was a holiday gift.”
“Bullshit.”
“Language,” my mother chastises.
“Sorry, Mom. But that’s total BS, Dad. You’re seriously trying to buy a fraternity house election? Like it matters?”
“Keaton.” He looks up at me over his reading glasses. “I did a generous thing, and you’re bent out of shape over it? The presidency will look great on your résumé.”
My goddamn fucking shittastic résumé! “It’s disingenuous!” I shout. “It’s probably against the rules! And I already broke the same damn rules accidentally.”
He blinks. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“Yeah, because it’s so much fun to look stupid in front of you!” I thunder. “You’re always so generous with your opinions when I make a mistake.”
Dad makes a face like he’s tasting something bitter. “Calm yourself. It’s not against the rules if an alumni gives every active member the same gift. If you did the giving, then maybe I would understand the argument, but...”
Anger crackles through me like electricity snapping out of a damaged wire. “You should have asked me. This isn’t your election. It doesn’t have a thing to do with you.” Except it does, and we both know it. I would never have run in the first place if he didn’t want me to. “I look like an asshole now.”
Dad shrugs. “So what? Assholes win. You know you’re the best man for the job. Don’t make this more complicated than it has to be.”
I spin around and stalk back outside before I say something I’ll regret. I’m stuck here with him for seven more days. And that’s about six more than I can stand.
Unfuckingbelievable
Luke
Unfuckingbelievable. Fifty dollars at the Darby Brew Pub? If I received one of these, then so did every sitting member of Alpha Delt. Who does that?
Keaton is a giant, epic dickface.
I roll over on my bed and groan. I shouldn’t spend it, right? If I spend it, that’s taking money from the enemy. Well, not money. Thick, juicy burgers and the kind of beer I can’t really afford.
“Fuck you, Keaton Hayworth the third!” I yell at the ceiling.
Luckily, nobody else is here to witness this moment of crazy. I’m the only member of Alpha Delt with no place better to be on Christmas.
Earlier I did swing by my former home, where I had the good fortune to find my mom home alone. I let her feed me a piece of pumpkin pie while I handed over the money she’d asked to “borrow.”
“This is your Christmas gift,” I said as I passed her the bills.
“Lukey! You know I’d pay you back!”
I know nothing of the sort. “Merry Christmas, Ma.” Honestly it’s a gift to myself to avoid the disappointment when she doesn’t pay me back.
Her Christmas gift to me is a winter hat with the Patriots logo on it. I’ve never been interested in football, but that’s my mom for you.
Before I left, I’d put a sealed envelope on Joe’s pillow with the hundred bucks he asked me for. Then I texted him a photo of it, because I don’t really trust my mother not to take it.
Seriously, who needs family? They’re exhausting.
The whole thing took maybe an hour, including travel time. Now I’m rattling around in my empty fraternity house, feeling like a lonely loser. Since all the stores are closed, I did some provisioning yesterday. I have food, and downstairs I get the seventy-inch TV all to myself.
When this place is full of frat boys, I usually wish they’d all shut up. But God it’s so quiet right now that the silence is pressing in on my eardrums.
I pick up my phone and unlock it, wondering if LobsterShorts is around. What are the odds?
Good, as it turns out. There’s a new message from him.
LobsterShorts: I fucking hate holidays and what is really the goddamn point?
I laugh out loud.
SinnerThree: Preach, brother! It took me way too long to realize that Christmas is a fucking crock. I finally got it when I was thirteen. Not only did I finally realize that nobody was ever going to surprise me with a decent present, togetherness makes people crazy. Mom and Grandma used to get drunk and scream at each other.