to hold a cakewalk, we’re not cakewalking here because Milasy couldn’t book it. I can’t remember why, but the cakewalk is in a large study hall on the second floor. I’m pretty sure it’s near some bathrooms, plus a lot of little conference rooms, which works out perfectly for me.
We ascend the stairs slowly, as Lora and a few of the other junior girls chat about the effectiveness of the Diva Cup. The yucky conversation ends when we reach the top of the stairs, walk between two giant ferns on either side of the staircase, and behold the sprawling study area.
It’s got industrial mauve carpet and is normally cluttered with couches, recliners, and tables. Tonight, the furniture is pushed up against the gray cinderblock walls. A chunk of the floor is partitioned into masking-tape squares for the cakewalk. All around the squares are fold-out tables bearing cakes and refreshments.
I make a beeline for the younger girls who’ll be working the cash boxes, and give them specific instructions for how I want them to keep track of everything.
Then I walk around the bustling room, smiling and chatting like the biggest thing on my mind is how much money this dumb cakewalk makes. I’m also looking for Brennan, who indeed seems to have skipped tonight’s event. Thank the Lord.
After a few minutes, I slip into the bathroom with two clients. I emerge with fresh lipstick, then chat with Steph about her disastrous calculus exam while the guys set up the sound system. I don’t really remember what a cakewalk entails: some sort of hop-scotch kind of thing and numbered slips of paper, plus a boom box. A quick look at the tables around the cakewalk floor reveals two dozen or more cakes, and I guess people think this is a cool pastime, because girls and guys from other sororities and frats start spilling into the room.
I catch the gazes of my clients and begin subtly steering them into the bathroom or the conference rooms. Milasy is playing announcer, so she definitely doesn’t notice. I don’t think anyone else does, either. Sometimes I feel stares from the guys, but that’s normal, I tell myself. I’m wearing jeans that make my ass look awesome, and I’m newly single too.
I take care of Jordan, Elizabeth, Julie, Forrest, Kelsey, Chloe, Ricci, Sarah, Molly, other Molly, Joanna, Anna Maria, Solena, Christy, and Neda, all in various conference rooms, before Lora and I go into the ladies’ room—not because the conference rooms are a bad place to do this, but because both she and I need to pee.
“You making bank, girl?” she asks from the other side of a stall wall.
“You know it,” I say.
“You little twat.”
“You are. Jealous,” I tack on.
She snorts. “I don’t need that money.”
True. Lora’s dad is a lumber tycoon, and on the school’s board of trustees.
“You wish you were buying yourself Louboutins for Christmas like I am.”
“I’ll steal my mom’s.” She giggles.
“Or steal mine.”
When Lora and I have washed our hands with the school’s citrus-scented soap and I’ve got her money added to the growing wad in the inside pocket of my bag, we latch arms and walk back out to cakewalk central.
“Win a cake for me,” I tell her.
“Good luck with your shit, girlie.”
I watch blonde-haired, pixie-small Lora walk across the crowded room toward Harrison—a tall, dark-haired hottie who plays soccer for our school and has a complete, pervert obsession with taking pics of Lora’s ass and putting them on Tumblr.
Harrison and I are still cool, I think, but I’ve noticed he doesn’t talk to me much since Brennan and I split, and when Lora hangs out with him, I’m never invited. I guess it makes sense, since I’d be a third wheel without Brennan... but it’s still kind of sad.
I spot Megan by a window that overlooks the quad, chatting in a group of junior and senior Sig Alphas. I walk up behind her, smack her butt, and hiss into her ear: “Room one-A in five.”
She giggles as she walks through the door seven minutes later. “I feel like I’m on a covert mission!”
I smile. “You are.”
She gets her weed, I get my money, and then I have to talk down her nerves for a full two minutes.
“There’re so many people here! Next time I want you to drop it off at my room again like last time....”
I slip out a minute after her and repeat my covert message to Katy, who wraps her arm around my waist and tells me