But Iamdetermined to find Vivienne.
To do what? I don’t know. I’ll decide when it happens. But before any boozy stalking can take place, I gotta pee.
I find a bathroom upstairs, since there are so many people at the Entrepreneur party tonight, the downstairs restrooms have become loitering spots for high school boys toexchange their father’s business cards. Unzipping at the urinal, I let my head fall back and the relief flow, ready to think about what I’ll say to Vivienne if I find her, when the door whooshes open. Three guys come stumbling in, laughing about something I’m sure isn’t actually funny but because they’ve been sipping champagne all night, they’re buzzed.
I’d love to play the college student card and look down my nose at them right now but the truth is, I’m not much better off. I’m tipsy and a little stoned, so when they line up at the urinals near me, I ask them what’s so funny.
“Even when they have money, they’re still so eager to fuck a guy if they think he’s gonna be the next Bill Gates,” one of guys says, laughing as he shakes his dick over the urinal.
“They?” I ask.
“The chicks. I mean, these girls are all pure-breds, right? They’re at Dulce and Mansly, all of them signed to ivy leagues, smarter than all of us combined,” he says, zipping up, forgoing the hand wash element of using the restroom. Disgusting. “But we’re gonna go in those suites right now and find them waiting for us, waiting for us to tell them exactly what we want and the way we want it. Because at the end of the day, it’s all about bagging the best guy.”
Not only do I disagree wholeheartedly with this douche bag’s take, but it immediately makes me dislike him. A lot. A whole lot.
“I don’t think the girl you’re with is that way, though,” one of the others said as he flips his tie over his shoulder, turning on the sink. “She seems… Uptight. Like she isn’t gonna put out.”
My mother has dragged me to this club too many times to count. Because of this, and because of how last year’s Entrepreneur party went, I’m aware that these guys have a plan. One that most likely involves the members suites up here.
And more alcohol.
And sex.
“We’ll see,” the big guy says through a laugh, tugging his sleeves to adjust the fit of his suit. “My dad got champagne in all of our rooms, and it’s not even nine.”
One of the other guys pats him on the back with a laugh. “Alright man, let’s do it.” He smooths a hand down his chest. “Ricky is fuckin’ hot. No doubt in my mind she’s gonna put out.”
Ricky.
Oh my god. These guys are meeting up with Vivienne and her friends.
Which means one of these spoiled cuntpops is going to try and fuck Vivienne.
I follow them out, stopping them in the hall, grabbing the biggest guy by the arm. “Hey, uh, I overheard your conversation in there, about meeting up with girls right now.”
“Sorry man,” one of the others says. “We only have three and eighteen year olds don’t really know about double teaming yet.”
Disgust crawls over my skin. These morons are talking like they’re older and far more experienced, but the truth is, they’re all eighteen. And they’re all one pump fucking chumps, no doubt.
Though if I had access to Vivienne right now, I’m not sure I’d be much better.
“No, I, uh, I overheard you guys talking, back there,” I say casually, nodding back toward the bathroom. My dress shirt clings to my back as beads of sweat form along my spine. Guilty sweat. So much guilty sweat. “I know Ricky and uh, I’d be careful with her, and her friends. Especially tonight.”
Their faces fall. “Don’t tell me they have a pregnancy pact or something?” The football player smacks one of the others in the chest. “Trying to get access to the WAG box early, guys.”
I really want to roll my eyes, but I can’t. Brooke, Ricky and Vivienne are all beautiful, attending the equivalent of ivy league high schools, and they all come from solid families. The idea that any of them would have to fuck one of these tools for a secure future is actually laughable.
“Yes,” I nod, going along with it because he’s served up a way out, letting me off the hook to come up with some lie. My altered brain will take any help it can get, and I’d do just about anything to keep these tools away from Vivienne. “I was just going to say,” I tell them. “Watch out. In fact, if I were you guys, I’d party downstairs. Ten minutes in the suite, eighteen years of child support.”
The football player’s jaw goes slack. “Seriously? I mean I was kind of kidding but…” he shakes his head, looking at the other two idiots. “I mean it makes sense.” He smooths his hands over his lapels before checking his cufflinks, puffing out his chest. “I will probably see playing time on the field by sophomore year.”
He thinks that any of those classy women are trying to get pregnant tonight because he’s a bench warmer at Cal next year? I swallow the lump of amusement forming in mythroat, and nod. “Yeah, man, you’re a total catch. That’s what they’re looking to do–bag a catch. Whoever does it first, wins.” Sweat slides down the back of my neck as I lean in. “Heard they poke holes in condoms, too.”
At this point, someone should askwins what? Or,what’s the rest of the bet? Or,why? They should ask something. They should question me in some form. They should at least bring the needle to the balloon and attempt to poke holes in this disastrously thrown together excuse.
But they’re high school seniors with champagne in their veins and the risk of teenage fatherhood put in their brains. They ask no questions.
“Dude, thanks man,” one of the others finally speaks up, “you really saved us.”
