Page 11 of Single Girl Rules #ThreeHeadedMonster

Chad looked like his head was going to explode.

“Babe, I’m just joking. I’m so excited to see your dorm and meet your friends and get you into the Gryphon Club.”

“It’s not that simple. Yes, I got punched. But it’s still a long road to initiation.”

“Punched?” asked Ash. “I thought they’d outlawed hazing?”

“Not actually punched,” I said. “Punched is what it’s called at Harvard when you get invited to pledge a final club.”

Ash looked at me like I was crazy. “Why don’t they just call it pledging a frat?”

Chad gasped. “The Gryphon Club is not a frat. I mean…technically it is a fraternity of brothers forever bonded by love and respect.”

“Brotherhood of man sex?” asked Slavanka.

I stifled a laugh.

“No!” screamed Chad. “It’s…you know what, never mind. Let’s just get going.” He checked his Rolex. “My boys should be here any minute to give us a ride. Since we flew, we have extra time. And we’ve planned an amazing afternoon for you girls.”

“Oooh!” I said. “Fun! I can’t wait to see the new Odegaard boutique in downtown Boston.”

“Huh?” asked Chad. “Who said anything about shopping?”

“I’m pretty sure you did.”

“No. This is gonna be even better.”

Better than shopping? Boston wasn’t known for their spas, but maybe he’d found a hidden gem. And by a hidden gem, I mean a masseur with magical hands and a huge dick.

I rubbed my hands together. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go!”

Two guys in plaid shorts and polos with the collars popped were waiting for us on the tarmac. I wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but they’d had enough time to roll out a putting green and light some cigars. The skinny one let out a huge puff of smoke as his overly-jacked friend lined up a putt. The putter looked comically small in his massive hands.

“Hey boys!” I called from the top of the stairs.

The big one totally flubbed his shot. “God damn it!” he yelled, slamming his putter against the green hard enough to bend the shaft. “You can’t yell at a man while he’s taking a stroke!” He chucked the putter and it went directly through the windshield of an electric blue Lamborghini.

Ash hid behind me.

“Dude,” said Chad. “Don’t talk to my girl that way.”

“I won’t if you tell her not to…” The angry guy looked up and his eyes landed on me. The cigar fell out of his mouth. “Sweet lord, Chad. You didn’t tell us you were dating a super model.”

“Nah,” said the skinny guy. “There’s no way his girlfriend is that hot. That’s just some model he hired to be his flight attendant.”

I laughed. “That’s very nice of you. But I really am Chad’s girlfriend. I’m just dressed up as a flight attendant because Daddy gave the real flight attendants the day off. You must be Chad’s friends?”

“Trent Donahue,” said the skinny one. “Son of Senator Kenneth Donahue. Democrat, Massachusetts. Vice-chair of the finance committee.” He shook my hand with perfect technique.

Well that’s a lot of unnecessary information, but okay.

“And this idiot is Scooter.”

“Hey girl,” grunted the beefy one. “I have something for you.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ticket.

I took it and looked down. It had “ADMIT ONE: The Gun Show” printed in jokerman font. “The gun show?” I asked.

When I looked up from the ticket, Scooter flexed. “Welcome to the gun show, baby.” He kissed one of his biceps.

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