“That’s Katrina, man,” Elder laughed, clasping his hand on Texas’ shoulder. “She will chew you up and spit you out. Don’t mess with the tiger, bro, unless you want to get clawed.”
Texas laughed loudly and strutted towards her, glancing back at me and the boys. I crossed my arms and shook my head, ready to watch him get shot down quickly. To all of our surprise, as he moved onto the dance floor and started dancing next to her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and started dancing with him. He threw back his head and howled as his arm went around her back.
“Give it time. He’ll crawl back licking his wounds in a few minutes,” Elder said, amused as he watched the scene knowing it would end as a tearjerker for poor Texas.
“I’m gonna walk around.” I glanced over and noticed that Hawkins had disappeared. “Where the fuck did the golden arm disappear to?”
Elder shrugged. Elliot pointed over to the pool table. “He chugged his beer like a pro and grabbed another, and headed over towards the townies. Guess he’s gonna show them how bad a freshman can lose at pool.”
I laughed as I walked around the house. I spoke to a few of the guys I knew for a bit. One of the brothers was in my public speaking class, and he told me how nervous he was about having to get up in front of the class this next week. I wasn’t worried about that. My charm usually got me through that kind of thing. I may not be the best, but I could bull shit with the best of them.
“Yo, McKendrick!” Joe York pointed at me before pretending to spike a football and raise his arms in the air. “That was badass, man! You brought us close, bro!”
“Sup, York? How’s training going?” York was on the baseball team and was a damn fine third baseman. We had most of the same classes together as we were the same year. He was one of the few study buddies I had.
“Ah, you know. Whipping those freshmen into shape as best we can. Spring will be here before you know it. We had this freshman come in from Mississippi this year with a speedball that puts everyone to shame. Poor Birdsong’s worried he won’t be starting in the opening game. It’s messing with his head. You should give him a call and talk him down off the ledge.”
“Sure. Birdsong’s a good guy. I’ll see if he wants to grab a beer sometime soon. You could join us if you want. I think I’d prefer that, honestly,” I laughed. Birdsong was a great pitcher, but he was a mental mess. One bad inning could throw him for a loop. York laughed and agreed, and I told him that I’d call him next week.
I figured I better go and check on Hawkins. He had never come out with us before, and shit, this might have been his first college party, ever. He took everything way too seriously. If he wasn’t on the field, he was studying. I think his parents expect A’s from him. That’s crazy. We practice too much, and in the fall, we travel every other weekend. Straight A’s should not be expected.
I see Hawkins walking back from the keg. Damn, how many beers has he drunk? I walk over to Elder, who hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there with a hand in his pocket and a beer to his lips. Texas must have lasted longer than any of us expected.
“Wait for it…” Elder laughs. “Look at her face. She’s already annoyed by his pawing at her. Should be any sec… OH! Shit!”
I look over at the dance floor, and Texas was on his knees, holding his crotch. Katrina spun around and walked off the dance floor, leaving him there holding his nuts. It was bound to happen. Katrina was a beast. She may have looked like a sweet little kitty, but she was a fucking tigress. Texas wasn’t the first football player to feel her knee or her nails. Texas was lucky. Katrina’s nails could leave fucking scars.
The problem was she liked to dance and have fun out on the dance floor with whoever danced with her, but after a short time of grinding with her on the dance floor, the guy always went too far. A hand on the ass, a graze of her boob, and the boy always went down to their knees. Served them right. The problem wasn’t Katrina, it was the guys who thought her carefree attitude was an invitation. It wasn’t. The bros needed to learn to manners. Texas was definitely that kind of bro. He was used to girls throwing themselves at him, so this was a good lesson for him to learn.
He walked funnily over to his, holding his sore nuts in his hand. “Damn! She hits like a fucking linebacker, man.”
“Told you,” Elder laughed snidely, enjoying our friends’ pain. “Katrina is not to be toyed with. She’s a special creature, and one day she’s gonna tame the right guy.”
“MOTHER FUCKER!” We hear from behind us. Shit someone was about to get into a fight. It always happened at these parties. Someone probably hit on the wrong girl.
I turn around and immediately start running towards the commotion. Hawkins is on the floor, and some tall redneck is standing with his fist clenched. Elder sprints past me and puts his wide, muscular body between them, his arms outstretched, trying to diffuse the situation. I get to Hawkins, who’s already getting back to his feet, his fists clenched, a look of rage upon his face.
“What’s happening, fellas?” Elder says calmly, his voice a deep warning that whatever happened here was now over.
“Your friend there decided to throw a punch at me,” the tall redneck said smugly. “We were talking about the game and…”
“Fuck you, asshole! You told me that I was a shitty quarterback,” Hawkins growled. Good for him, standing up for himself, but fists never really solved an argument. They only escalated them.
“That’s not true,” the handsome man that I noticed when I came in said forcibly as he stepped in front of his friend. “He said you couldn’t run a play very well, and you tried to punch him when his back was turned.”
“He missed?” Elder smirked, asking the guy who had gotten even more gorgeous as he defended his friend. I did notice that he had a hold of his arm and was forcing it downward. He must be the peacemaker of his group too, or maybe he knew better than to get into a gang fight with the overly muscled football team. Elder was impressive, and no one in their right mind would pick a fight with one of the twins.
“Yep. Just like most of his passes,” the tall one shouted over his friend.
“Chad!” handsome warned, but it was too late. Hawkins launched himself at them, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him into a bear hug as he squirmed. I had about thirty more pounds of muscle than he did, so it was a losing battle on his end.
Elder pressed his big finger into Hawkins’ chest. “Done. You hear me, Hawkins?” Elder glanced behind him. “Cowboy here might have been a bit of an ass, but you don’t come into a frat party and start trashing the place, you hear me. We’re guests here, and I don’t like me or the team to look bad.” Elder turned to the tall guy, I now knew was named Chad and frowned at him. “You know, man… We do our best out there, and sometimes it might not go down the way you want, but what we don’t need is someone putting us down. Capiche?”
“Whatever, man. I didn’t start it, but I was sure as hell gonna finish it,” Chad said as he cracked his knuckles. I bet he could have too. He looked like he could handle himself, even if he was drunk as shit.
“Figures,” handsome said. “You guys get everything you want anyway. Look, I go to the games, and I’m a fan, I am, but I don’t really like the way you guys get treated on this campus. Like your shit don’t stink. We get told all the time on this campus that we’re not as important as you, and if we have a critique or decide to criticize a play or a game, it's totally our prerogative,” he said sternly. “I bust my ass to pay my way through college and get straight A’s, and I don’t like how you guys seem to get a pass on anything and everything that has to do with being a student.”
“You, I like,” Elder laughed, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man, there’s a lot of asshole jocks, trust me, I know. I hate most of them. But it’s not all of us. I actually care about my grades and study all the time. I have plans, too, just like you. Hawkins, over there, can’t get his nose out of his books, either, because his parents expect him to have a high GPA too, but yeah… I get it. It’s not fair, and the only reason we get treated the way we do is that the athletics department brings in high donors and a lot of money in concessions and ticket sales. But you know that, don’t you?”
