Sorority Girls With Guns (3 page)

Tiffany glowers at me over the rims of her Ray-Bans. “And how much money did you spend on Miss Me skinny jeans on your last trip to the mall? I’ve seen five different butt-flap designs in the last five days.”

“It’s pocket-flap bling, and you know it, and how much I spend on jeans is entirely beside the point.” I slam my palm down on the table in what always comes off as an authoritative demand to get down to business on corporate-tycoon TV shows. In the campus Tenbucks’ coffee, it just elicits a lot of glares from hungover students – and a few professors.

“Now do we have a deal or not?” I ask Richard.

He tears his eyes away from the menu board. “I agree to the monetary amount. Now let’s get back to the terms of your new lifestyle.”

"We can't use our credit cards, debit cards or prepaid cards, so we have to pay cash for everything?" Charlie asks. "What if we go somewhere that doesn't take cash?"
"Like where?" I never carry cash, so I have no idea.
"I can't think of any place that wouldn't cost more than $500," Charlie admits after pondering it for a moment.
"Sounds fair to me," I say. "Do we just all go to the ATM together to make sure no one cheats?"
"That sounds okay." Matt scrunches up his face like a drunk trying to remember his own name and coming up with Jack Daniels. "What about the cash we already have in our pockets?"
He's right - the ATM isn't going to give random amounts of change. The only fair thing to do is empty our pockets, purses, wallets and Dior money clips onto the table. And now we've arrived at the awkward part:
"So do we surrender all our cash, checks and credit cards to you for a week?" Morgan asks Richard with her usual tact and delicacy. "How do we know you won't just take our money and run?"
"What's a check?" Tiffany asks.
"They're like legally binding paper IOUs. I remember seeing my mom write them in stores when I was really little." I whip out my cell phone. "We'll record him taking the money, including exact amounts from each person and post it on our vlog."
"So three people besides us will know about it?" Tiffany starts to roll her eyes, winces and winds up giving me a sort of cross-eyed glare.
"We all have online access to our accounts, so we'd get a text immediately if he started charging on them, " I point out. "And there isn't enough cash here for anyone to run away on. You couldn't even buy enough gas to make the Mexican border with this." I wave a hand at the pitiful pile of crumpled tens, twenties and ones. Judging by the way Charlie's ones are individually rolled, I'm guessing we're staring at his stripper stash. "The worst that can happen is we report our cards stolen, give the cops the video and the card companies reverse the charges."

Richard is staring at all of us, his disarming dimples MIA, his nose crinkled up like he just stuffed his feet into loafers someone puked in at the last party (I've seen that happen - always look before you stuff your feet into shoes. Or put on a hat.)
"I can't believe you all just assume I'm going to steal from you because I'm of a lower socioeconomic status than you, " he says, pulling out his Tommy Hilfiger wallet and slapping it on the table. "Tell you what, you can each hold onto one of my cards. I know you won't charge anything on them because they're all maxed out. Now we're all equal, right?"

I’m pretty sure giving us his maxed-out plastic doesn’t make us equal, but that’s not what’s pissing me off right now. “You know, not every fucking thing is about you or your financial status,” I tell him. “For your information, rich people steal from each other all the time. Look at Bernie Madoff. Hell, some of the people he stole from were closer to
your
income bracket. And the rest of his victims were other rich people.”

“
She’s right,” Matt says, scooping up one of Richard’s worthless cards. “People, both rich and poor, are always trying to steal from you when you have money. It’s
not
personal.”

“
Your attitude toward us, on the other hand,
is
personal,” I say, pulling Richard’s ID from his wallet. Squinting at the birthdate, I see that he’s a fellow Aquarius, born less than a week before me – but, judging by his constant whining, in very different circumstances.

He snatches his ID back and stuffs it in his wallet, obviously sensing that I’m about to make fun of his DMV picture hairdo (I am). “We haven’t discussed your vacation plans.”

“
Well, you're going to have a hard time buying a plane ticket to the Caribbean on your new income,” Richard says. “And don't think you're going to drive your expensive cars to our new destination.”

“
We can't take our own cars?” Matt asks warily. His silver Beamer is honestly nothing to be proud of – his dad wanted to teach him a lesson after his second driving-too-fast-in-the-vicinity-of-a-parking-meter accident, so he told Matt he’d have to pay for the repairs himself. Consequently, Matt’s grille and hood were replaced with parts from a black Beamer and all the scratches are still there. Matt just can’t bring himself to take the money out of his beer budget to
really
fix the thing.

“
Well, most people who make twenty-five grand a year aren’t driving around in Mercedes' and BMWs,” Richard says, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest with a smug little grin on his face. “But I’m willing to let that slide. You do have to pay for your own gas and oil changes though. And any necessary repairs,” he adds, shooting a look at Matt.

“
I can handle that.” Matt does that nostril-scrunching thing guys do when they’re trying to look tough.

“
Now, where are we going on vacation?” Richard asks.

“
Now this isn’t fair.” Tiffany pouts, and I’m not doing it justice. She’s had a lot of collagen injected into her lips, so when she pouts, it looks like JLo wearing pink spandex pants and sticking her ass out a window sideways. “We shouldn't have to tank our whole summer.”

“
No, we shouldn't,” Charlie says. “You girls clearly have the advantage, though. You can all go out and get a rich boyfriend anywhere you go on vacation.”

I’d like to say that money is the only thing once again keeping Charlie from getting that thing that would make him happy for at least three minutes, but honestly, this time it’s his big, stupid mouth.

“
I can’t believe you just said that, you pig!” Tiffany yells, and a hungover student at the other end of the coffee shop shoots us a glare that probably hurts him a lot more than it hurts us.

“
What’s to stop them from getting a rich girlfriend?” Richard asks. The corners of his mouth are twitching like they’re trying to leap up into a grin but he just won’t let them.

“
The publicity from everyone watching this video – which is streaming live on the GluedtoYou channel I created for it – should slow everyone down on picking up rich dates,” I say, waving my phone around.

“
But it’s easier for women to take advantage of men,” Charlie says. I swear, the guy has no idea how much his mouth is keeping another part of his anatomy very lonely.

“
Why?” I figure I might as well make Charlie’s grave-digging an assisted suicide. “Because men have such one-track minds that they can only think about sex, and don’t have enough brain cells left over to wonder if they’re getting screwed in more than one way?”

At this point, Matt finally decides to give his buddy an assist. “Charlie, man, you should just quit while you’re ahead.”

“
I just googled “vacation spots” within a hundred miles of here,” I say. “That's driving distance – even in a crummy rental car. The best one looks like South Padre Island – eighty-eight miles away. From the reviews, it gets tons of college students from all over the state each summer, so we'll have a lot of opportunities to socialize.” And by socialize I mean party.

Richard shrugs. “Sounds okay to me. You can probably afford the gas to get there.” Matt, Charlie and Morgan nod assent.

Tiffany sighs. “All right, we’ll downgrade to South Padre for the first month of our vacation. But after the bet is over, we're still doing the Caribbean. Does that cover everything?”

“
No loans, unless you have to pay them back during the bet period,” Richard says. “So do we have a deal?”

   “
Richard, I assume you're coming with us so you can make sure we don't cheat,” I say. “What if we made the bet even better?”

“
What do you mean?” Richard asks.

I shove the pile of credit cards in his direction. “Well, the bet isn’t really fair because you don’t have to do anything. What if you used one of these cards to buy yourself a ticket, then used them to live like a rich person while we live like poor people?”

“
So I can experience the hardship you all go through every day?” Richard asks. I hate it when he gets sarcastic – that’s
my
job.

“
So you can see how people treat you when you have money,” Matt says.

“
Yes, I’m sure the rich are really looked down upon,” Richard shoots back.

“
No, think about it,” Tiffany says. The coffee is starting to wake her up. “People treat you like a walking ATM. At least on the rare occasion that someone’s nice to
you
, you know it’s because they like you and not your money.”

“
Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Richard asks.

Tiffany opens her mouth to answer, then looks confused, then shuts her mouth and turns her attention back to her coffee. I don’t think she’s actually sure of the answer herself.

“
Well, if we’re going to live on $500 a week while we’re on spring break, I think you should have to put up with us constantly begging you for money,” Charlie says. “You can still say no, but you’ll get a taste of what our lives are like.”

“
But how could you even afford to go to Florida on $500 a week if you had to pay for school, rent and all that crap?” Richard asks.

“
Well, we can’t stay here,” I say quickly, aware of where this is going. “Everyone knows us here, so it will affect how people treat us.”

“
If your vlog actually got any viewers, by some miracle, people in South Padre might know, too,” Richard says.

All of a sudden, I get one of my brilliant ideas. “I know how to kill two birds with one stone,” I say, turning to Tiffany. “You know how we were trying to come up with an internship project to enter in that Green Day contest? The one where they want fresh ideas on saving the environment?”

“
Yeah...” Tiffany looks confused.

“
Well, here's our project: We show people how they can save money by reducing, reusing and recycling!” I say. “We could call it...B Green 2 Save Green. Our rich friends will think we're living like paupers for the internship contest; everyone who doesn't know us will probably assume we're poor. The people from Green Day will see that we're showing people how saving the environment actually saves money in a lousy economy. If there's one thing people care about, it's not the environment – it's money!”

Richard snorts. “I wish that wasn't so true.”

 
Tiffany shrugs. “I guess it could work. I really want our project to win so we can be interns for Green Day.”

“
And your dad canceled your vacation trip because he cut you off, anyway,” Charlie says to Tiffany.

It’s almost like the guy is trying
not
to get laid.

‘”
We’re all still going on a trip that someone making $25,000 might not be able to afford,” Richard says. “You’d have to save all year to visit South Padre, but I’m willing to overlook that.”

“
I’ve been to South Padre,” Matt says. “It’s nice, and it’s not as crowded. We might actually get better service and wait in fewer lines.”

“
Then we’re all in agreement?” I ask, looking around the table.

Everyone nods, some more reluctantly than others.

“
I guess the youth center will understand,” Richard says. “I volunteer there all year round, they’ll be okay without me for a couple weeks.”

“
Then we’re all going to South Padre and switching places,” I say, making sure to get a good shot of my face with my phone.

Chapter Four

There are disadvantages to being a vegetarian. People call you a treehugger, a dirty hippie, a carrot-killer. They tell you your diet is unhealthy when they have more health problems than you can count on both hands. An idiot frat boy once told me it was impossible to get enough protein without eating meat, but when asked, he couldn’t tell me how much protein he should be getting in a day, or how much protein he had eaten at his last meal.

Another guy, who was about five-foot-three and about as wide as he was tall, informed me that every vegetarian he’d ever known eventually ended up looking sickly. This was a guy who couldn’t walk from his car to the door of the student union without panting like a dog. And he always parked as close to the door as possible, and walked at the pace of a turtle on valium. I told  him that if being sickly meant being able to walk twenty feet without gasping for breath, I was all for it.