Page 32 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
I’d been the recipient of some half-assed research that had sent me down a few rabbit holes, but the housing rejuvenation project had appealed to me. I liked the idea of taking our charity work into the community, beyond the campus projects we’d done in the past. The idea of being able to escape school, work with my hands again—the way I had when I was a teen, building model ships, 3D puzzles, and other gadgets, and working on the car with my dad—had sounded like a great fucking escape.
“Guys, the project works, but this contest requires some extra steps. Like a full accounting of all our expenses, a budget, a long-term proposal to continue funding it—which by the way, requires grant writing and a marketing campaign—and more.”
Just the thought of all that work made my stomach churn with unease. This wasn’t a cake walk, no matter what the guys thought.
“But you’ve done some of that, right?” Kev asked.
“Some,” I said grudgingly. “But just for the frat. It’s probably not up to the professional level they want for this.” I waved the flyer again. “This is going to take work.”
“But you can do it?” Linc asked.
“Not alone.”
“Kev, you’re an accounting major, right?” Tim said. “You could help with the financial stuff.”
“And I can help with writing,” Linc added. “English major.”
“Really?” That surprised me because Linc was just coming into college. How was it he had more clarity about what he wanted from his education as a freshman than I did as a senior? Then again, didn’t everyone have more clarity than me? I was beginning to think I’d spend my entire life in a fugue of what-the-fuck now?
“Yep,” he said, grinning. “Going to teach lit to a bunch of punks like us one day.”
Everyone laughed, but I still wasn’t sold. “I guess…we can meet up in a few days. I’ll gather what I’ve got.” As the guys started high fiving, I felt a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. “Save the congrats for later. I’m not promising anything. I’m me, remember? I’ve got a box full of receipts and a half-baked plan at best.”
Aaron snorted. “Half-baked is how we roll around here, man.”
He threw out his fist for a bump, and I gave him a halfhearted one.
As the guys began to drift away, Kev drew me aside. “I can tell this makes you nervous.”
“I just don’t want them expecting too much. You know all the Greeks do charity. We don’t have it in the bag.”
Kev shrugged. “Maybe, but our charity work is more meaningful. You’ve done good, Coop, even if you don’t believe that.”
“Thanks,” I said hesitantly.
“But there’s more than just bragging rights on the line.” Kev’s gaze was suddenly locked on mine. “This cash prize, the frat can use it for anything, as long as it remains connected to the fraternity.”
“Okay…” I wasn’t sure where he was going with that.
“Like provide a scholarship for a member,” he said pointedly. “Even if it’s only a one-time deal.”
The pieces clicked into place. “You want to give it to Simon.”
Simon had caught me returning to the frat the morning after I’d spent the night with Trace. Mywalk of shamehad really been more of a strut. I’d still been floating after the night of tender care. Trace hadn’t just worked me over, he’d washed me, held me, made me feel cherished.
“Hey man,” Simon had said, “you got a minute?”
I’d hesitated, wanting to retreat to my bedroom where I could linger in the sweet bubble of a blissful night. But Trace was already on the road, and I couldn’t live inside a memory. I’d nodded reluctantly. “Sure, what’s up?”
He’d licked dry lips. “Let me get Kev…”
Over coffee, Simon had haltingly told us that he’d screwed up and lost his football scholarship. He’d gotten into a fight with a teammate, he’d said, a physical altercation. The video had gone viral, which we’d all seen, but what we didn’t know was that his scholarship had a zero-tolerance violence policy and he’d been cut from the team. As a result, he’d probably have to leave the frat in the spring semester.
“What about school?” Kev had asked. “Can you pay the tuition? We could maybe waive frat dues.”
Simon’s eyes had shuttered, but the tic in his jaw had given away his tension. “I don’t know,” he’d rasped. “I’m talking with my parents, seeing what other scholarships or aid I can scrape up. I’m not sure it’ll be enough.”
It’d been hard to watch someone who had always been so confident look so lost. I would have traded places with him if I could have. Simon had athleticism and brains. He was incredibly focused and driven, whereas I floundered at every turn.
