Page 22 of Seeds of Friendship
One of the Alpha Pi guys laughs. “Vandalism? We're just decorating for your little party. Though I heard no one's coming, anyway.”
They're spreading out slightly, that subtle intimidation formation. Six of them, four of us. Roland's got probably thirty pounds on me, and his boys aren't small either.
“You know,” Alfie says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like ice, “this is fascinating.”
Everyone turns to look at him.
“Six grown men sneaking around at night to spray paint a house like middle schoolers.” He pulls out his phone, and I realize he's been recording. “Roland Matthews, right? Senior, business major, president of Alpha Pi?”
Roland's eyes narrow. “Put the phone away.”
“No, I don't think I will.” Alfie's voice is conversational, almost bored. “Now, I know you’re planning on joining an investment bank after graduation this year.” His face pales. Oh shit, Alfie must be right. “But…Vandalism, harassment, conspiracy to commit property damage. And with video evidence?” He smiles, and it's genuinely unsettling. “Your daddy's dealership money won't mean shit when the internet is done with you.”
The silence is deafening.
“Who the fuck do you think—” Roland yells.
“I’m Alfie Spencer.” Alfie examines his phone like he's checking the time. “And you’re out of time. Now, you have two choices. Leave now and never come near this house again, or I make one post on twitter and destroy your entire future. Your fraternity's charter, your graduation, your job prospects—gone.” He finally looks up. “Your choice.”
Connor steps forward. “You can't just?—”
“Connor,” Roland cuts him off, not taking his eyes off Alfie. “We're leaving.”
“But—”
“Now.”
They retreat, but Connor can't resist one last shot. “This isn't over. Your party's gonna be a disaster.”
“Looking forward to you watching from outside,” I call after them.
We stand there until they're out of sight, then head back inside. The “LOSERS” tag is still dripping on our steps.
“How did you know that about him?” Troy asks quietly.
Alfie shrugs uncomfortably. “My family…this is how they’ve taught me to deal with shit. Always make sure you know what your enemy wants and you’ve got power over them.”
“Dude,” Ethan says. “That’s fucked up. You’ve seen your family do this?”
Alfie’s eyes darken. “They’re not good people. I’d prefer if we don’t talk about them. I don’t like using their tactics, but…”
“But it fucking worked!” Troy claps him on the back.
Alfie shifts away from Troy and heads inside to the closet, pulling out cleaning supplies. “Now are we going to clean this shit up or you guys gonna continue staring at me like I've grown a second head?”
We grab supplies and head outside. It's weird—four guys who barely knew each other three weeks ago, scrubbing spray paint off concrete at midnight. But as we work, something shifts.
“Thanks,” Troy says to Alfie. “For that.”
“They touched our house,” Alfie says simply. “That's unacceptable.”
“Our house,” Ethan repeats, grinning. “Hear that? Alfie admitted it's our house. We’re becoming a real family, you guys!”
“Shut up and scrub.”
The paint's stubborn, but we work at it methodically.
“You know,” I say, “Connor's right about one thing. They're gonna try to sabotage the party.”
