Greek: Double Date, page 7
“Then you just have a natural complexion that people would kill for,” Casey said to her little sis. “Nothing that can’t be enhanced.”
“Why am I doing this again?”
“Because being beautiful is not just about looking hot and having guys fall all over you. It’s about self-esteem and presenting the best of yourself. You’re a ZBZ—you are not expected to look your best all the time. You just do.”
“A paradigm of womanhood?” Jordan smirked.
“I have other things to do,” Casey said, adding, “though helping out my little sis is always the most important. Now, red or pink lipstick? I’m thinking something subtle, because of the color of your dress.”
Jordan managed to control her gag reflex through the entire procedure, which took longer not because of her indecisiveness but because she deferred all opinions to Casey, who insisted she make her own choices. When the work was finally done, she was amazing—radiant, really—but nothing Casey could say could really convince Jordan of that, and she thanked her and scampered away, Rebecca passing her on the way.
“Big problems with little sis number two?”
Now Casey had to control her gag reflex. “You know how pledges are. Especially ones I seem to be in charge of,” she said, in reference to Rebecca’s near disastrous pledge year.
Rebecca took her place in front of the mirrors. She didn’t have much makeup to put on, but she needed no instruction, and she spent a lot of time getting it perfect—something Casey was familiar with. And since Rebecca was solo—as far as Casey knew, and didn’t want to bring up—she was putting on an extra shine.
“So am I really going into this thing without you revealing the mysterious past of the infamous Mr. Howell?”
“Yes.”
“Did you date him and he dumped you in public?”
“No.”
“Did he work for your father?”
Rebecca grimaced. “No.” But her face said that touched a nerve.
“Does he have photos of you during your fat years?”
“I did not have ‘fat years,’” Rebecca said with all the self-confidence that would make one assume that she truly hadn’t and had no reason to lie. Of course, Rebecca always sounded that way, even when she was lying through her teeth. “Though remind me to bring that up in the next game of ‘I never.’ I would find that interesting.”
“Did he humiliate a young, impressionable Becca Logan at summer camp?”
“You already asked that one.”
“Did you have a crush on him?”
“Try again.”
Casey closed her case of blush with an extra-hard snap created by indignation. “You know it’s your sisterly duty to inform me if I’m walking into a disaster zone. I would do the same for you, if you didn’t go ahead without telling us first.”
“Just keep him away from me, and you’ll be fine,” Rebecca said, not so reassuringly. “If he knows what’s good for him, that shouldn’t be hard.” With that vague warning, she left.
Casey was still cleaning up—a clean house was a well-run house—when Ashleigh entered. “Which situation should I ask about first?”
“Dale’s taken care of. I left two messages on his voice mail and sent him a text. What more can he ask?” Casey checked her phone again. “No response. He must be really upset.”
“He’ll get over it. What did Rebecca say?”
“That she never had fat years, and nothing else.”
“Ooo, this gets juicier by the minute.”
“Maybe not. Maybe it was something not dating related that she’s still upset about. Or maybe he’s grown up and is simply the sweet, hunky guy I’ve met and invited to the formal.”
Ashleigh shrugged. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“Are you trying to sabotage my date?”
“I’m just looking out for you. Which Rebecca apparently isn’t doing.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
Ashleigh qualified it with, “If it was really terrible, she would say something. So just chill, go to the formal with your new hotness monster, and maybe it’ll all come out in some dramatic moment that everyone remembers for years.” She continued, “Ew, that didn’t sound good. I meant for it to sound better.”
“I know you did. And I am probably overthinking this because I met a new guy and he’s not a Greek and I don’t know anything about him and he’s not—”
“Cappie. Or Max. Or Evan. Or even the original hotness monster.”
“Right. Exactly. So I need to just…relax.”
Casey succeeded in taking her mind off it, sort of, by giving the speech to remind pledges to be on their best behavior in front of the other Greeks and especially members of the Panhellenic board, who would be there. She tried to do so without making too many references to their disastrous newspaper exposé and the horrible restrictions on campus life that had followed, and the pledges seemed to get the point. Either they were antsy by the end of the speech or some of them just weren’t so used to heels and needed to sit down, because they were squirming.
Then it was time to go. Some of the sisters were picked up by their dates, and some had to make their own way to the formal. The pledge class went together, and Casey saw them off from the porch. Most of her sisters had left when Rob appeared, almost a phantom in the night in his black tux on the poorly lit streets—the university was trying to save energy—but his smile lit up the night, or at least her night. “Hey,” he said, a little bit nervously.
“Hey,” she replied, standing gracefully, or trying to. The responsibility to her sisters sometimes left her feeling like a mother hen.
“What’s bringing you down? Or am I reading you wrong?”
“Just making sure my little sisters find their way,” she said. “Kind of leaves me the last woman standing.”
“I thought the president went down with the ship?”
“Ashleigh’s the president, so she’s supposed to get there early and stay through to the end. Also, her date lives ridiculously close to the university ballroom, and she is therefore picking him up. They’ve been dating for a while, so she doesn’t expect any dramatic, romantic gestures like Fisher arriving on his motorcycle to take her.”
“Should I have been dramatic?” he said. “Because a horse and carriage is really expensive. I checked.”
She accepted his hand. “I’ll manage without the dramatic gestures tonight, thank you. In fact, I would appreciate a lack of them.” He had no idea how close that comment had struck to a previous formal-transportation disaster. Max had been romantic and dramatic….
Walking close together, they headed in the direction of the main campus, where student cars were not allowed without a special permit that neither of them had.
“So,” Rob said, his hands in his pockets, possibly a sign that he didn’t know where to put them. Maybe he was nervous because he liked her? “You’re not a big romance type? I sort of had you pegged differently.”
“When it’s good, it’s good. When it’s bad, it’s very bad. And awkward. And then you break up with the guy because he’s creeping you out. Or he’s overcompensating because he’s a mess and he doesn’t know what to do with his life.” She frowned. “Wow. Bad way to start the evening.”
“A nice walk?”
“My dating history. Forget what I said.” She took his arm. “Tonight is fresh and new and all about new beginnings. Or just an open bar and schmoozing with Panhellenic.”
He laughed. “If you want. I haven’t found them that interesting. Mostly administrative. They have a lot of memos to be copied.”
“My recent interactions with them have been when my house has done something wrong,” she said. “Which, admittedly, has only partially been on my watch.”
“I read about last year.”
She stopped. “You did?”
He smiled to reassure her. “Yeah, having wild parties and fooling around on campus? Who knew? I was wondering why everyone was so scandalized. I’ve seen bigger scandals in 1950s educational films, though those scandals are usually everyone rushing off to get married without their parents’ permission. If Cyprus-Rhodes doesn’t want to admit it’s a normal university, then it has a serious complex about itself.”
“Really?”
“Really. Maybe it would have been scandalous if this was a Mormon campus, where guys have mandatory haircuts and the vending machines don’t sell soda with caffeine. But we’re in college. Glorified summer camp,” Rob said, and they continued walking. “I think the reaction was because, you know, they had to react like it wasn’t the status quo because then it would be like they were saying it’s okay. It’s all about presentation—especially for the alumni. Dean Bowman is serious about how we look to the alumni, especially the ones who can’t seem to remember what they did in their campus days. Speaking of which, I’ve heard legends around the office about Dean Bowman’s wild years as an undergrad.”
“I thought those were rumors. Or something Cappie made up.”
“Who’s Cappie?”
“The president of Kappa Tau.” She grimaced. “And I might as well just tell you—my ex-boyfriend from freshman year.”
“The president of Kappa Tau? That’s not the name on the info at the registrar’s office.”
She stopped dead and faced him. “You know Cappie’s real name? Oh, my God, you can’t tell anyone.”
“No worries. Student confidentiality and all. Seriously, I need this job. It’s the reason I had such an easy time with transferring my credits and my source of housing.”
“Seriously. You have to keep it a secret.”
“I don’t remember it, anyway. I just remember it was weird, and his file in Dean Bowman’s office is huge.”
She patted him on the arm. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re a really great guy.”
Dale knew he was late. Far too late. He arrived at the ZBZ house running, huffing because his tie was too tight for this kind of physical activity. Approaching the ZBZ house was always a little intimidating, but it was Dale’s responsibility to pick Casey up. Worse, she didn’t even know what time he was coming.
Casey did not answer the door. It was someone he didn’t know, in a bathrobe. He wasn’t that late, was he? “Um, hello?” she said.
“Hi. I’m here…to pick up Casey.” He tried to catch his breath without leaning over or possibly collapsing on the front steps. “She’s expecting me. But maybe she isn’t. I was going to call her but the phone company repairman for the house line didn’t show—”
“Uh-huh.”
“—and my cell phone, okay, it doesn’t hold up to water. It’s dead. I tried to call to give her a time, but I couldn’t. So I thought maybe I could e-mail her, but the phone company is owned by the cable company and they said the reason they couldn’t send the repairman was because he was busy fixing the cable lines for Internet—”
“Uh-huh.”
“—and if we had only stayed on campus, we could have reliable service! Except for that time it went down because someone overloaded the campus server trying to download every Star Trek episode ever made in HD format—”
“Uh-huh.”
He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “I think he got halfway into Next Generation. Anyway, so everything was down and Rusty was already gone so I couldn’t reach her and I figured I would go over early, but band practice was held up—do you know we’re playing tonight? Anyway I think my watch is slow. I should have gone digital but it was my grandfather’s watch.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, I tried to take the campus bus and the times posted are completely wrong. No wonder I’ve never taken them—”
“Uh-huh.”
“And…wait, am I at the right house?” He thought maybe there was no way he could panic more, but maybe he could.
“Oh. Yeah. I’m Betsy.” She closed her robe tighter as if she was suddenly self-conscious, even though it didn’t truly need closing. “I’m a ZBZ. But I didn’t have a date. Or a dress.”
“Okay.” He was confused by her air of befuddlement. Maybe she just didn’t understand how critical this moment was. “Where’s Casey?”
“She left. For the thing.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “At least she won’t be late. Thanks!” Without spending more time while his date was waiting, he took off in the direction of the social hall. Maybe his luck was finally changing.
“Professor Hale—nice to see you. Yes, I was in your class last semester. Third row. Great TA. Mr. McFadyen—thank you for coming. I hope you’re feeling better.” Rusty’s current job as he stood by the trimmed hedges leading to the cocktail hour outside the meeting hall was supposed to be checking invitations, but was turning into more of a greeter job, as his advisor had given him specific instructions to record who, of the alumni and professors stricken by the mysterious illness, actually showed up. He even had a clipboard. Fortunately he was good with names and faces, and knew most of the professors anyway. “Professor Girard. How are you?”
“Please, it’s Nick.” The paleontology professor shook his hand. The event was open to all professors, though few outside of the hard sciences attended. Rusty had taken Girard’s class for a social sciences credit first semester. “Is it me, or do these things get bigger every year?”
“I think it’s more for the alumni than the students being honored.”
“And the job market. You youngsters need those connections. I’m just here to see some old students.”
“Well, enjoy.”
Professor Girard nodded and entered. Next up was Associate Dean Devora Kessin, still pale from her adventure in mercury poisoning. “What’s the ice sculpture this year?”
“A satellite.”
“Last year it was a swan. Lazy sculptors.”
He nodded and felt his phone vibrate. It was Jordan texting him. Rather than spend all the time it would take typing, he ducked behind the bushes and called her. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. How goes?”
“Not bad. I think it was, like, a twenty-four-hour thing. Everyone seems pretty recovered.”
“Where’s your Man-Date?” Jordan asked.
“Cappie’s not here yet. I mean, if he is coming. I didn’t tell him Casey was going to the formal instead, but he might have figured it out.”
“Aw, your loyalty is cute. What about Dale?”
“I haven’t seen him. I’m stuck at the entrance for alumni and professors. Students go in the other door. Did Casey let him down easy?”
“She sent him a bunch of messages. He hasn’t called or written back.”
“That’s weird.” It didn’t seem like Dale, but Rusty couldn’t answer for his whereabouts. He’d been too busy and hadn’t seen him all day. “I miss you. How’s the formal?”
“I don’t know. The pledges are going together, but we got held up by a stocking emergency and we’re at the campus drugstore. Not very formal.”
“If I can get out of this thing, I promise you I will.”
“You should stay. Make contacts. Get deans to like you.” She was really trying to be encouraging. “Enjoy.”
“Talk to you soon.” He hung up in time to greet his advisor. “Professor Hastings.”
“Mr. Cartwright.” He always called people by their names in a way that seemed calculated to make them flinch. “How is our attendance looking?”
“Not so bad. Most of the people who got sick yesterday are already here. Everyone else is straggling in.”
“And the caterer?”
“I specifically told them ‘no fish,’ and they came very highly rated by the president of the university.” That had been a very awkward call. “So, okay, I think.”
His advisor actually showed a hint of a smile. “Good job, Cartwright. Keep your grades up, and you may well be just attending next year.”
A backhanded compliment if he’d ever heard one. Rusty just said, “Thank you, Professor.”
Rusty was watching his advisor turn around the corner when someone said from behind him, “Jerkwad.”
“Hey, Cappie.”
“Just because you can’t say it doesn’t mean I can’t, despite my great esteem for the professors of the engineering department,” Cappie said. He was dressed appropriately for the event, which was not black tie but still quite formal.
“Students are supposed to go in the other side.”
“I am not a student. I am either a connoisseur of the hard sciences or your date. Pick one.”
Rusty rolled his eyes, but he had to be honest with his big brother, now that he was facing him. “You know, I heard Casey is going to the formal instead. ZBZ responsibilities and all.”
“That’s sad,” Cappie said with remarkably little remorse. “And if my sole intention in attending this fine event was, as you say, to stalk Casey Cartwright, then I would be quite disappointed and tempted to desert you and relieve Heath of his presidential duties at the formal. But, as I have always maintained, your sister’s well-being is not my only concern in life.” He said it so smoothly that it almost sounded true.
“So you’re avoiding the formal.”
“Spitter, you’re so quick to judge sometimes.”
“You are totally avoiding the formal.”
Cappie rather hesitantly nodded. “Rebecca’s been texting me all day to be her date.”
“Rebecca? As in Rebecca Logan? Did you get back together—”
“No. The answer is no, but her messages were insistent. Whatever her scheme is, I would much prefer the comfort of the warm bosom of engineering—”
“Please never say that phrase again—”
“—to suiting her needs at the formal. I’ll take my chances with the poli-science—”
“Polymer science—”
“—majors. Thanks for the invite.” He patted Rusty on the back, then strutted in as only Cappie could, as if he owned the place.
“Remind me why I’m doing this.”
Calvin barely held back the mandatory eye roll that now came so often when dealing with Evan, as he entered to find, with some surprise, Evan perfectly dressed for the formal. Giving up your trust fund apparently didn’t affect your ability to properly position a cummerbund. “Because you’re president of Omega Chi.”
