The door cracked, and when Jules’ vibrant green eyes spotted me, he opened the door the rest of the way. No words were necessary between us. He snatched a beat up, vintage leather jacket off of his desk and stepped out into the hallway. Then he locked his door with an old iron key and waited to see what I would do.
I walked down the hallway, greeting brothers with smiles and head nods. The perfect, charming president. The one who everyone loved, both within the frat walls and the university halls.
“Emmett was getting his dick wet again. I guess I should be thankful he ended his session short. Remember that time he refused to leave his bedroom until he nutted?” I glanced back over my shoulder to see a quick flash of white teeth before Jules settled into his standard grim expression. For him, that was the height of hilarity.
“Yeah. He’s gained some self-control since last semester.”
We climbed in my Cadillac SUV, and I fumbled with the air and music while we waited for Emmett. I stopped on SAD!, letting the beat wash over me. Finally, he came racing out of the house and dove in the backseat like we were trying to get away from a dangerous job. Not that that hadn’t happened. It was just unnecessary tonight.
The tires squealed as I reversed before his door was completely shut. I grinned as Emmett cursed. Yeah, I liked to act like we were on the getaway from time to time, too.
“Milo, I forgot to tell you, your dad called. He was looking for you about an hour ago.” Emmett propped his elbow on the edge of Jules’ seat and flicked his ear. Jules slapped him on the forehead and left it at that. It was hard to work him up, man. He was so good at keeping a level head. Exactly why he complimented our trio.
“Fuck him,” I growled. “I’ll call him when I’m ready.”
“Yeah, yeah. I thought I should let you know.”
“Noted.”
The drive to Freddie’s was quick, located a few blocks off campus. This neighborhood was shit, but the club was legit. The top two levels were for dancing, and the basement was for fighting. A perfect combination for entitled brats to get off.
“What’s the plan?” Emmett drummed his fingers on the back of my seat. It was probably a blessing that he loved women so much. With as much restless energy as he had, if he didn’t spend his time fucking, he’d probably build bombs and scatter them under bridges for the fun of it.
“We lay low until I say otherwise.”
“Smartass,” he grumbled, then grinned. Emmett always asked the same question, and I always gave the same answer.
We approached the door, and Vinny, the veteran doorman, unlocked the chain and waved us through. Ninety percent of the time, beautiful women received the VIP treatment. If you were gorgeous and had a decent rack, they let you in, cover free. The idea was all these poor dickheads would be even more willing to pay the cover to join the beautiful women they watched enter. Then they were willing to lay down tons of cash on drinks on the hopes that they’d get a fuck buddy for the night.
But we were the exception. Alpha Delta Omega was royalty in this town. Pockets were deep, alumni were connected, and the precious members were not to be fucked with. All in good fucking fun, of course.
I breezed past the door and got swallowed up by the thumping bass and moving black lights. Girls smiled coyly at me, and douches lifted their drinks or chins in acknowledgement. I did my thing, smiling politely and doing my own version of acknowledgement. These fuckers had to think they were important. That they had some kind of connection to me, because it made them feel better about themselves. They did. Just not for the reasons they thought.
The edge of the dance floor came into view, and instead of pushing through the crowd of gyrating bodies, I took the VIP lane right past the red rope until we reached our table. It was our fraternity table. Several guys were already there. Charles, the suck up whose dad did business with mine. Derek, whose family donated the money required to build the new art building this year. Then the unfortunate twins, Johnny and Jaime. Unfortunate, because their family had more money than God, but for all that money, they were ugly as sin. Good fighters though. And they were on tonight.
Johnny reached out a hand to slap me on the back. “Milo, glad you made it. We have about an hour before the show.” That was code for the fights. Everyone knew they happened, but they were never referenced as anything other than the show. Self-preservation maybe, but probably more like spoiled brats wanting to feel like they had access to something held separate from common society.
“Great to see you,” I grinned, and made a point to make eye contact with every single guy at the table. “We’re going to kick ass tonight. I can’t wait to see the faces of their fraternity president. I hate that fucker.” The fighters weren’t always frat boys. In fact, most of the time they weren’t. It was the rare moment when it was frat against frat. Space was going to be nonexistent in the basement.
Chuckles drifted around the table. I slid onto the fancy leather seat at the back of the table as Jules followed me. Emmett stayed standing as he tracked the sexy piece strolling up to take our orders. He tilted his head down as she stepped right into his space.
“Drink?” Her voice was husky and hopeful.
“Yeah, babe. Blue moon, extra orange slice.”
She slid her gaze to Jules, seeming to note his short but messy dark brown hair and light eyes, and her tits pushed against her skintight corset. Here was a classic case where Emmett could make panties drop, but Jules was on a completely different cloud to these women. Emmett caught it and shrugged good-naturedly.
“He’ll have a coke and amaretto.” Emmett trailed a finger over the lace barely covering her tits. Oh, he definitely noticed when she took in a deep breath at the sight of Jules.
She sighed. “Sure. And you?”
“Whiskey, neat.” It was all my father ever drank. My grandfather, too, before he passed. A bunch of pretentious assholes, and no matter how far I distanced myself from them in personality and goals, this was the one damning mark I inherited.
But I wouldn’t be drinking tonight. On these nights, I never did.
The waitress left and the table watched her leave.
Jules nudged me. When I glanced at him, he showed me his phone.
Who is the target tonight?
No one was paying attention, the rising high for the fights tonight already bleeding over into my frat brothers. The dance floor was nearly electric with the same dangerous vibe.
I took the phone from Jules, erased his message and texted back one word.
Fuckface
He raised his head, searching the table on the far side of the VIP section. Delta Psi Delta claimed that table. After us, they were the next largest fraternity here. Only they had none of the elite alumni we had. None of the connections. If Alpha Delta Omega was the equivalent of old money, then Delta Psi Delta was the new up and comers trying to find a spot in this world.
Emmett, Jules, and I, we never used real names. Not in the conversations that mattered. Sure, we nicknamed nearly everyone and everything, but some were exclusive to our trio. We all took some kind of sick satisfaction from doing it to our potential targets. This one, Fuckface, was Jules’ pick. He had a run in with him at some party Jules attended on his own. I was otherwise engaged that night, and according to gossip, Fuckface had been mouthing off about the fucking Mute of Alpha Delta Omega. Jules was quiet, that was a given, but more than that, he made no sound when he wanted to blend into the background. Fuckface hadn’t even known he was there.