Greek: Double Date, page 6
“What did Panhellenic say?”
“‘How many Greeks are engineers, anyway?’ And IFC had a few derogatory remarks about the honors engineering program that I will not repeat. Look, we flew in a bunch of alum and some people from technology companies. I just spent an hour on the phone to the hotel, promising them the university would cover their stay for an extra night if they weren’t booked there anyway. It’s on, and it’s on Saturday night.”
“Then you have to tell Dale I can’t go.”
“That is one thing I do not have to do,” Rusty said defiantly. “It’s something you have to do. You’re the one ditching him.”
“You’re making Jordan miss the formal!”
“No, I’m not. She can go to the formal without me. I can’t make her miss the Greek event of the semester to see some engineers get award certificates. I’ll try to join her at the end, depending on how long the ceremony goes. But she’s off the hook for the engineering event.”
“And so am I.”
“Yeah, okay, but you have to tell Dale that.” He entreated, “Please. You don’t know how crazy this has already made me. Just give him a call.”
Casey couldn’t really refuse. If she did, he would babble for longer than necessary to make her change her mind. “Fine. I’ll handle Dale.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I have to get back to the meeting.” And not specifying what the meeting was, he hung up.
“Trouble in Rustyland?” Ashleigh said, appearing in the doorway, and Casey only sighed and closed her phone.
Rusty Cartwright could name, off the top of his head, five days—all within his one year and one semester of college—that were the worst of his life. Certain days of Hell Week made up a few of them, but there was also the day his little brother Andy had depledged, the day Jen K. revealed she was a spy in the Greek system and the day he was duct taped to a wall. Perhaps he was lacking some perspective at the moment, but that Friday morning possibly rivaled all of them. Dale said he was being dramatic, but Dale had gotten more sleep than he had.
The trouble had started at 6:00 a.m., with a call from an alum who now worked in Silicon Valley named Chris McFadyen. Chris had his cell phone number, as Rusty had chatted him up the previous night out of interest in his work in biopolymers, polymers that were produced by living organisms. It was a hot field because of the green movement and the move toward environmentalism in the hard sciences, even ones involving plastics like polymers, but that wasn’t why McFadyen was calling. He’d had less sleep than Rusty, having been up all night bowing to the porcelain goddess, and said he might not be able to make the event if he didn’t start holding down liquids and maybe solids in the next twelve hours. Rather politely he sent his regards.
The next call came twenty minutes later, from a second recipient of Rusty’s cell phone number, Eric von Riegers, asking if he knew where in town he could find some Pepto-Bismol. He was considerate enough not to ask Rusty to get it himself. Rusty checked his Google maps and directed him to a nearby CVS. Eric also apologized profusely for his possible inability to attend the event that night.
Then a call came in on the main house line. Dale took it, and immediately handed it off to Rusty as though the phone was covered in biohazardous waste. It was Devora Kessin, associate dean of the engineering department, and she was calling from the emergency room, though she said she was about to be transferred to a regular floor. She sounded astoundingly composed for someone with mercury poisoning.
At which point, Rusty began to suspect something.
The caterer didn’t answer the phone. Rusty wrung his hands for another few minutes before the next call came, this one from the dean of engineering. Rusty’s presence was requested—demanded—at his office, pronto. He barely had time to get his clothing all buttoned and tucked in before appearing in the dean’s office, where a pink bottle of Pepto-Bismol, half-emptied, was rather prominently displayed on the desk. Rusty’s advisor, Dr. Hastings, actually showed up, as well, his face rather ashen, as the dean began going down the list and calculated that sixty-three percent of the invited guests of Cyprus-Rhodes currently staying at the Parkside Hotel had called in with what was definitely some form of food poisoning. Fortunately for Rusty, inquiries were not made as to why he had selected that caterer and that menu. There were too many logistics to be handled, some of them by Rusty himself. The dean was either too distracted by illness or uninterested in Rusty’s incompetence, as he selected him to locate a new caterer immediately, and money was no object when it came to safety ratings.
“We’ll recover the money in the lawsuit, I’m sure,” the dean said, planning revenge on the caterer before making use of his garbage can for something other than paper waste. As to Rusty’s question of how he was supposed to find a caterer in less than twelve hours, the dean’s answer—when he recovered—was simple. “The event has been moved to tomorrow night. Attendance will suffer, but we’ll extend the rooms at the hotel for an additional night. It’s the only thing we can do without canceling altogether.”
“But, sir, the All-Greek Formal—”
“Is what?” The dean betrayed not a hint of patience.
“Is tomorrow night.”
The dean exchanged looks with Dr. Hastings, to which their response was a joint shrug.
“Locating a facility to host won’t be a problem. Dean Bowman understands the importance of alumni contributions. Besides, how many engineers are frat guys, anyway?”
Released from the meeting, Rusty called what would almost assuredly be a friendly voice. “Hey, Jordan.” He knew it was not too early for her, as she had a 9:00 a.m. class.
She answered in a rather perky voice, even for her. “Hey, Rus! What’s up?”
“A lot of alumni’s stomachs,” he answered before he stopped himself. “I suspect undercooked fish.”
“What, did they have you running to CVS?”
“Practically. I mean no, they didn’t actually make me do that, but I just got back from a meeting with the dean.” He swallowed. “The event is moved to tomorrow night.”
“Oh, no!”
“I know. Look, you’re off the hook for the awards, obviously. I can’t ask you to miss the formal. Just try not to pick up any cute guys from a more distinguished fraternity while I’m not there to try to punch them and then get my butt kicked.”
“Rus, I would never do that to you. Plus, who would I go for, an Omega Chi? Ew!”
“You’re a ZBZ. That’s the opposite of what you should say.”
“Yeah, and how well do I fit in at ZBZ?” It was true. Without Casey’s constant support, tinged with a hint of desperation—Casey didn’t handle failure well—Jordan probably would have depledged the first week, or not pledged at all. She was the very opposite of the ZBZ image of a perfect girlie girl. Her destruction last week of her pink bunny slippers, a gift to all pledges, via a washing machine accident that might well have been intentional, was a testament to that. Now the slippers looked like little demon cats, all red and eyeless and with torn-off ears, thanks to her not using the gentle cycle. Rusty had won significant points by saying it was an improvement on her evening footwear. Jordan continued, “Do you want me to ditch?”
“No! Totally go to the formal. You probably already have a dress.”
“I can return it. I haven’t worn it outside the dressing room, and it still has the tags. Although, it actually isn’t as uncomfortable as I assumed it would be. Mostly because I refused to get anything with itchy lace and matching heels.”
Rusty actually shivered at the idea of Jordan in lace. “I might make it. It depends if I can leave the engineering event early. But I have to be there, at least for the opener, to make sure things go well.”
“Like you did last night?” She chuckled.
“Yeah, exactly. It’s weird—like they totally forgot who chose the caterer. I think it’s that the dean is as sick as everyone else. Must have been the breaded salmon. I saw everyone eating that.”
“Gross.”
“I know. Hence, my good health.” He sighed. “Look, I’m really sorry to miss the formal. You want to get together tonight? Apparently I’m free.”
“Sure. Anything going on at Kappa Tau?”
“By virtue of it being Friday, I’m sure there’s something going on. Not that the concept of a weekend is a lot different from a weekday to most actives. Besides, Cappie— Oh, crap! Cappie!”
“What about him?”
He put a hand over his eyes. “You have no idea.”
“I have to say, Spitter, you do not disappoint,” Cappie said, somehow towering over a nervous and exhausted Rusty, even though he was slumped on the couch and Rusty was sitting up. “Poisoning an entire guest list is a little extreme, but considering the nobility of your quest, the means to your end can certainly be excused.”
“I didn’t know the fish was bad. Or maybe it wasn’t even the fish,” Rusty said. “Maybe it was the fruit provided by the hotel. I don’t know.”
“I, for one, make it a habit not to include a lot of dangerous fresh fruit in my diet,” Cappie said. “But really. Going all of this way just to fulfill a promise to your big brother and conveniently not have to shun your girlfriend? Exemplary for a pledge, extraordinary for an active. I’m almost tempted to hug you.”
“Please don’t,” Rusty said, knowing Cappie actually wouldn’t, because it would require him getting off the couch. “I only said you could go if Jordan couldn’t because I thought that was impossible.”
“The odds were for you, but fate was against you. A fate designed to get me an invitation to the exciting engineering awards ceremony. Is it even a ceremony? Or just hobnobbing with people who edit Wikipedia for a living?”
“Hey! You have to go to the formal. You can’t play sick if you’re at another event.”
“Unlike certain other people in this room, I may have made contingency plans,” Cappie answered. “In the event that I am unable to fulfill my presidential duties on Saturday night by appearing at the formal, a certain someone will take on the responsibilities—and title—of Kappa Tau president for the hours in question. And that person is…” He looked around, then under the cushions. “And that person is whoever’s name comes out of the fishbowl. Spitter, some help here?”
A quick search of the main room revealed a dry fishbowl, still with the colored rocks and plastic treasure chest at the bottom, filled with people’s names on slips of paper. “And the president of Kappa Tau for the duration of the All-Greek Formal is—” Cappie did nothing if not dramatically “—Heath. I’m sure he’ll do us proud.”
“Is my name in there?”
“Yes, but your prior obligations—mainly, being my date to the engineering event—would disqualify you.” He put the fishbowl back in its spot behind the broken lamp.
“You’re only going to stalk my sister.”
“You are so judgmental when you’re cranky. I have to admit, not one of your better qualities. Have some faith, little bro. Could it be that I have other—perhaps even a litany—of reasons for wanting to attend such a prestigious event?”
“Name one.”
Cappie put his hand around Rusty’s shoulders. “Perhaps I want to spend some time with my fellow engineering majors? A position I held for two days, admittedly, but we bonded a lot during those two days.”
“You were an engineering major for two days? Why?”
“I was young, foolish, and thought that there was a class on how to build a hovercraft open only to majors. But alas, none was offered. Ever since, Kappa Tau has had to make due with the G.I. Joe inflatable set I got off eBay.”
“We have a G.I. Joe hovercraft?”
“We had a G.I. Joe hovercraft. And lost many a brave plastic soldier upon discovering that it doesn’t work very well in a tub of beer.”
“So you’re taking Cappie?” Jordan asked. They were sitting on the Kappa Tau roof, enjoying the sunset after a long day of arrangements and other hassles for Rusty, to be followed by an open night, thanks to some bad fish. “Did he have some excuse or is he just chasing after your sister?”
“He said he was an engineering major for two days.”
“So?”
“Exactly. But I promised him he would be my backup if you couldn’t come—not figuring massive food poisoning into the plan—and I have to keep my promise.”
“I don’t have to go to the formal.”
“You are not going to miss a Greek event for me. Especially the All-Greek Formal. Your pledge sisters will be talking about it for days. I can’t do that to you,” he said. “Besides, I haven’t told Cappie yet, but Casey will probably break her date with Dale to go to the formal. She’s not going to miss out on the event of the year.”
“She is kind of…Super Sorority Sister. If that was an action hero, she would totally be it. But what’s she going to say to Dale?”
“I left that up to her.”
“Aw, Dale will be crushed.”
“I know. And then so will Cappie when he actually does have to make conversation with engineering students. Maybe I should tell him. I would, but then he’ll just go to the formal and do what he was planning to do anyway—publicly moon over Casey and then ruin her date. And possibly get in a fight I won’t be there for.”
“I have a camera on my cell phone.”
He turned his head sideways to face her. “I love you.”
“For my camera or for me?”
“Depends on the megapixels on the camera,” he said, not meaning it at all, but she knew that, and kissed him.
Casey Cartwright looked down at her cell phone for the third time in the last minute. The contact number on the screen cried out to her with its tiny blue light, reminding her and scaring her at the same time. It was Friday night, well after classes, and now she had no excuse not to call. Soon, perhaps, it would be too late to call, and she would have that excuse until tomorrow morning.
“If I tell him in the morning, he won’t cry himself to sleep tonight,” she reasoned, and turned to her laptop to continue her paper, then back to the phone. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Ashleigh, fresh from dinner and a movie with Fisher, entered the bedroom. “Um, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“You are not kicking me out for Fisher. House rules. And friend rules.”
“I mean, hello, engineering event you’ve been obsessing over?”
Talking to Ashleigh at least gave her a reason to close the phone and turn away from it, which she welcomed. “It was postponed.”
“Okay.”
“To tomorrow night. Food poisoning. Rusty didn’t know not to go with the lowest bidder for the catering.”
“But…we’ll all be at the formal.”
“And the deans assumed…mostly correctly…that not many honors engineers with a 4.0 grade point average were invited to an All-Greek Formal. Rather than have the alumni fly back in on the university dime, they decided to just hold it the same night.”
“So you’re out of your date with stalker Dale?”
“He’s not a stalker,” Casey admitted, because it was true. “He just has a crush on me, but it’s not like he follows me around or anything. This was going to be huge for him, I’m sure. I’m going to break his heart.”
“So, duh, have Rusty tell him. Aren’t they roommates? It’s not like they don’t see each other.”
“Rusty said it’s my responsibility to let Dale down, and he’s right. I made the promise. I should be the one to break it.” She picked up her phone. “Is a text message good enough, or is it even worse?”
“You’re not dating him. You’re not actually going out with anyone yet—except supercute Rob, whom you will not be going out with if you miss your first date with him. Rob has potential. He’s cute and you said he’s smart—”
“I know.”
“And he’s a poli-sci major so you guys can talk about…that. What are you going to talk about with Dale?”
“Well, most of the time when we’re in the same room, he clams up.”
“See? And then there’s Panhellenic, which for some reason you’ve been going on about…”
“I just wonder if I should somehow get involved in Panhellenic. It would help me network at Nationals and be good for my postcollege résumé. Or so says Congresswoman and ZBZ sister Paula Baker.”
“The woman who gave you that internship?”
“I may have had a terrible time, but I don’t question her career judgment. So, yes, important social event plus hot guy should win over sisterly duty.”
“And you have the perfect dress for it.”
“And I have the perfect dress. But…I promised Dale first. What should I do?”
Ashleigh huffed. “Uh, lame-ass engineering event with stammering guy and your brother or the Greek event of the year? Plus, new guy who is not weird or an engineer stalking you or a previous boyfriend? Plus, networking opportunities? You owe it to yourself to go to the formal. There’s not really any…I don’t know, decision to make here.”
The phone still in her hands, Casey squeezed it. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am!” Ashleigh was way too enthusiastic about it.
Casey was not so sure. “I’ll tell him in the morning. So he doesn’t have to be upset tonight.”
“Yeah, and where is he going to find a date at this hour? Plus none of them will measure up.”
Maybe she would tell him at the last minute, when he was too panicked about the actual event to further panic. “However I tell him, it has to be smooth. Appropriate. Kind.” And however it was done, one thing was certain—it could be done tomorrow.
chapter six
Casey checked her phone one more time, then focused her attention on the mirror and the pledge at her side. “You seriously have no makeup?”
“I had some, but it expired,” Jordan said. Her gown was amazing, sparkling blue to match her eyes, and there was a napkin around her neck to protect it from any makeup-related disasters. “Did you know it’s only good for five years?”
