Sorority Girls With Guns (13 page)

"Okay." Richard turns around, grabs the fruit-and-veggie tray off the nearest cart, and hands it to me. He then removes the tray of champagne glasses and hands it to Morgan.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Just help me out and stand there for a second, please," he says, as he hops up onto the cart. He stumbles for a moment, but finally finds his balance and gestures for Morgan to hand him a glass. "And a piece of silverware too," he whispers, as people are starting to look around again.

Morgan looks around and finds a tray of silver. "You want a knife, a spoon, a-"

"Just something I can bang against a glass," Richard says.

She hands him a fork, and he whacks it into the glass. I think he's trying to be enthusiastic, but he's used to eating with plastic spoons and the cheap flatware found in the school cafeteria. Also, he rarely goes to parties, and when he does they tend to be college parties, where people typically drink out of aluminum cans or plastic cups, not fragile glass wine flutes.

So when he whacks that fork into the glass, of course it shatters, champagne pouring over his hand as it clutches the still intact stem. "It's all right," he says, shaking shards off onto the floor. "Just a few scratches. I'll be fine. I have health insurance!"

This time the room really is silent.

"Well, anyway, I wanted to get your attention, and, uh, well now I've got it," Richard blathers on, and I'm once again reminded of all those suicidal deer prancing into the glare of my headlights. Have I mentioned how frustrating it is to be a vegetarian who accidentally kills animals with her car?

Unlike the deer, Richard at least knows he needs to veer sharply away to avoid a collision. "I wanted to introduce everyone to my friend Tiffany here," he says hastily, gesturing for Tiffany to come closer. She does, and he offers her a hand to climb onto the cart with him.

I'm really not sure the cart was intended to hold the weight of two twenty-one-year-olds, but hey, as Richard pointed out, he has health insurance, and so does Tiffany. And amaziangly, the cart holds, even as Tiffany struggles to catch her balance in her five-inch fake Prada stilettos and waves awkwardly at the other party guests, most of whom she doesn't know.

"I'm introducing Tiffany because she's looking for a date tonight," Richard says. Immediately, every male in the room starts making catcalls. A few indicate that they are particularly well-equipped to satisfy her needs.

"Hang on, hang on," Richard says, waving his hand to quiet the crowd. "Let me tell you a little about Tiffany first. She's decided to turn her back on material wealth, at least for the time being, and she absolutely refuses to date any rich guys."

"Good idea!" Morgan yells, apparently thinking about Biff.

"So she will not date anyone whose income exceeds $25K a year," Richard says. "Or anyone with a trust fund, or rich parents who fund everything. Proof of lack of income will be required," he adds. "Now, if you meet Tiffany's requirements, she'll meet with each of you at that table in the corner." He points at the only empty table in the room. "She's interested in making a real connection, so there's no telling how long it will take her to get to know you, before she decides if she wants to go out with you. All interested parties, please line up here." With that, he hops off the table, helps Tiffany down (she needs help with shit like that only because of the five-inch heels), and escorts her to the empty table, while men line up at the recently vacated cart.

Chapter Sixteen

 
"Is she actually verifying the amounts in their bank accounts?" Hoolio asks, as we watch Tiffany's offline dating service commence. He's talking about Morgan, of course - she's taken charge of screening suitors, walking up and down the line and taking cell phones.

"Yes, I am," she says over her shoulder, fingers flickering over a screen. "Everyone has their bank account on their phone now, so it's easy. And in case anyone made any outgoing transfers, I'm checking activity for the last week."

"That's smart," Richard says.

Hoolio shuffles his feet. "Well, this was one hell of an interesting party, but I think I should call it a night."

I look at my cell phone. It's nine-fifteen.

Richard raises an eyebrow. "I hope it wasn't something I said? I really didn't mean to offend you earlier."

Hoolio shakes his head. "No, no, it's not that, it's just..." His face is getting redder than Tiffany's did that one time she fell asleep in the house tanning bed.

Well, this isn't going well for me. What the fuck happened? "Hoolio, what's wrong?" I ask, stepping closer to him. "If you're bored, we can go take that walk on the beach together. Alone."

He shakes his head. "It's not that I'm bored either, it's just..." He sighs and stares down at his shoes. Oh, crap, I've seen that look before. "You're a really great girl, Shade, and I'm glad I met you. But I just don't think this is going to work out between us. I...think we should just be friends."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?”

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes." No, I don't, but I can't say no in front of everyone. And maybe I kind of do.

He tugs at the strings on his hoodie. "Because I don't think that my life sucks just because I'm not rich, Shade. And I don't get why you think that, either. I don't want to be with someone who thinks money is essential for happiness. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were this shallow."

With that, he ducks his head, turns and walks off toward Tiffany's table. I see Morgan's eyebrows shoot up under her excessively-sprayed bangs at the sight of him joining the line of potential suitors.

I should be thinking of something brilliant I could do to make this an awesome viral video. But all I can think about is how, once again, Tiffany has upstaged me.

I glance around the party, desperate for an idea. What can I do to wrestle the spotlight back onto me? Unfortunately, all I see are people sneering at me and whispering to each other, probably agreeing with Hoolio. And then there's Richard, leaning up against the counter, drink in hand, smiling smugly at me.

Well, I have to do something fast before I wind up looking like the loser in this breakup. For lack of a better idea, I pull out my cell phone, open the GluedToYou app, and press the LiveStream! button.

"I'd like my viewers' opinion on something," I say, so loudly that even Tiffany looks up from the corner where she's holding court. "Do you think it's super rude to dump someone and ask out their best friend in the same breath? Like, I go to a party with someone, I say something that indicates I have some ambition for my life and career, and this doofus decides he'd rather go out with someone whose only ambition in life is to find a rich husband. Well, that's been her ambition her whole life until today. Today she's decided she no longer cares about money and wants to date poor guys, so this guy who came to the party with me ditches me for a chance at going out with
her
. I just hope they can schedule a date before she changes her mind again."

I pause, letting my phone's camera follow my eyes around the room. "And I really hope she doesn't have any ulterior motives."

Hoolio looks over at Tiffany. "Is that true? Did you always want to marry a rich guy?"

Tiffany jumps up, knocking over her white wicker chair. Now
she'
s starting to look like she did after falling asleep in the house tanning bed that one time. "Of course not!" she yells at Hoolio. "And for the record, I had no intention of dating you, either. Did you really think I'd be impressed by an asshole who dumps a girl for another girl mid-date? What is wrong with you?

"And
you
," she says, spinning around to look at me so fast that her cheap, mall-kiosk hairpiece slips off-center. "I can't believe what you just implied about me. I make an effort to change my life, to become a better person, and you make fun of me. Worse than that, you imply this is some sort of master plan, when you
kno
w I'm not smart enough to manipulate people the way you do."

Wait...what the fuck? Is Tiff actually jealous of me? Why? And her excuse is that she's stupid?

"I thought you were my friend," she continues, her chin trembling. "And I could forgive you for thinking my plan to change my life was stupid. But to accuse me of somehow trying to trick a rich guy into dating me by pretending to want a poor guy - that's the sort of underhanded thing
you
would do,
not
me."

"But is it true?" Hoolio pressed. "
Did
you always want to marry a rich guy?"

Tiffany barely glances at him before she goes back to giving me the glare of doom. "I used to, yes," she snaps, still not looking at him. "But if I had half the intelligence and talent you do, Shade, that thought would never have crossed my mind. I don't know why you always feel the need to steal what little attention I can get from a guy when you can have any man you want." She finally shoots the glare Hoolio's way. "Well, almost any man." She picks up the nearest glass of champange and flings it in his face. Then she storms past him, slapping Morgan's hands away as she tries to run after Tiffany.

When Tiffany gets like this, the best thing to do is leave her alone until she cools off. So I do the only thing I can think of: I go back to my live feed.

"You know, I've noticed something," I say to my viewers, noting that the number has jumped from twenty-four to forty-seven in the last five minutes. "You know all that crap you hear about how you should just be yourself and the right person will find you and love you and appreciate you? Well, I'm here to tell you that it's just that - crap. Be yourself and your date will leave you for someone fake, who will then proceed to get mad at you. Shade out."

Chapter Seventeen

After I close the feed, I go out to the terrace to think. I can't believe what Tiffany said. Is she really trying to "change her life for the better", or is this just another act to get our vlog viewers' attention? And where does she get off thinking I'm stealing attention from her? Guys circle her like paparazzi circle Justin Bieber with a joint in his hand. I'm lucky to catch the eye of one of them, let alone all of them.

I pull my personal chocolate stash from my purse and eat a piece, calories be damned. Here's the thing: I am not ugly. In fact, I'm very attractive. I have good skin, great tits (especially considering that they're real, which no one believes, but it's true) and a tight ass. But I lack the one trait that all truly beautiful women have.

It's hard to define what it is. It's sort a glow, a tendency to smile all the time, an easy confidence that can only come from having things go your way most of the time. Tiffany has it. Morgan has it. Half the girls in the sorority have it. They smile without considering it first. They assume any guy they want will want them back, and they're usually right. They assume they'll get a grade changed because they ask for it. They may find out they're wrong, but they make the assumption in the first place. That's the quality that confers real beauty, and I do not have it.

I've tried to figure out why, and it took me a while, but I finally got it: You get that quality when you're not constantly frustrated, when you don't spend all your time hearing that you're not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not
something
enough. Just not right for us. Not right for the part. If you'd only work at it, you could do so much better.

I'm not saying that those other girls don't get rejected. Of course they do. They just haven't been getting rejected constantly for years.
Som
e things have gone right for them. When you never get a break from rejection and failure, well, that's different. That wears on you. You know all that crap they start telling you in kidnergarten about the little engine that could, and if at first you don't succeed, try, try, again and all that other utter bullshit? Why don't they tell you stories about the person who tries, tries again, and fails, fails again and
never
succeeds? I am
that
person, and every time I force myself to try again, to go to one more audition, to make one more video, and I fail one more time, another little piece of me goes permanently numb.

And that's why I'm not a beautiful guy magnet, and Tiffany is. And that's why her accusations at me are not only ridiculous, but downright cruel. True, she probably has no idea how I feel all the time, but-

"A penny for your thoughts." Richard's voice startles me and I almost drop my chocolate over the balcony. "I can afford it."

"Yes, you can." I turn around to look at him. "You definitely can."

He joins me at the railing and leans on it, looking out at the beach. "You notice there's no trash down there?"

"I noticed. I assume they pay someone to collect it every day." I shrug. "I guess it's more expensive than waiting for the drunk drivers to swing this way, but more effective, too."

"So how did things work out for you tonight?" Richard asks.

"Obviously, not well." I stuff the chocolate bar back in my purse before I can finish the thing. "Are you here to gloat? Because I'm really not in the mood."

"No, I'm not here to gloat." Richard rolls his eyes. "And I'm not here to steal your chocolate, either, despite what you may have heard about us low-income scholarship kids. I'm here because this is my balcony."