ONE
Leela
Kharlee Binghamton can tryto intimidate me all she wants with her crazy eyes, but her Botox injections have rendered her expressionless, except for looking scared and surprised.
“You can’t discriminate based on size,” Kharlee informs me. Her legs planted as straight as the columns on this stately Victorian wraparound porch. I am halfway in, halfway out of the open front door of the Beta Beta Psi sorority house, listening to her nitpick. I hope she hurries up so I can go back to curling my hair.
Kharlee juts out one size-zero hip and gestures with her chin to the sign that I’ve proudly mounted above the address numbers of the house in bright, bold white letters on a black background. “BBW.” Beta Beta Psi is home to the world’s first full-figured sisterhood. Sure, I’m playing fast and loose with the literal Greek alphabet, but it sends the message. Students who are sizes 14 and up, only.
I smile serenely. “I’m sorry, Kharlee. I wasn’t aware you were pledging to join our house.”
She looks horrified, which is no mean feat considering the puffiness in her forehead. Whatever she paid for that injection, it was too much.
“You are mistaken, dear. I am the treasurer of Mu Kappa Chi,” she huffs.
“So you’ve said,” I reply with a yawn, examining my manicure and low-key going over a last-minute to-do list in my head. Tonight’s charity fundraiser, a first for our sorority that will solidify Beta Beta Psi’s standing among Pine Mountain University’s administration, needs to go off flawlessly. “Which makes me curious about why you are inserting yourself into a brand new sorority.”
Kharlee crosses her arms over her disproportionately large chest. “I come from a long line of Mus, dating back over a hundred years,” she informs me by correcting my misunderstanding. “There’s no way I would pledge for a house like yours.”
Blinking, I retort calmly, “I think what you mean to say is you wouldn’t want to be plus-sized or pledge loyalty to women who are. So what exactly is up your ass today, sweetheart?”
She’s fuming now. But she reins it in and says sweetly, “I’m just letting you know it’s against the university’s rules to discriminate.”
I arch an eyebrow, something she is unable to do at the present moment.
“Is that so?” I ask.
I am barely listening already. Suddenly, I’ve fully tuned her out because, behind her, something loud and rumbly pulls up to the curb in front of Beta Beta Psi. Some man on a big, loud motorcycle has arrived. He’s probably here to pick up one of my sorority sisters early before the party begins. Which is just too bad, because we all have to have a team meeting before guests arrive. No one is dipping out for a bite to eat until all the party arrangements are under control. I narrow my eyes at the motorcyclist, deciding this is definitely not someone coming to pick up a date. The driver has long, mussed hair and thighs so thick that they almost bust out of his ratty jeans as they hug his loud, shiny Harley Davidson. I get ready to roll my eyes, and then I see it. The outline. Not just any outline. The outline of what must be a rolled-up sock. If that’s a flaccid dick, I can only imagine…but no. No, that’s definitely a rolled-up sock in there. What a weirdo, I think.
My disgruntled visitor, Kharlee, is still talking about Mu Kappa whatever’s humble beginnings, thanks to her great-great-grandmother or someone. I already know all of this—her sisters and I have a particular history that I’ve tried to black out of my memory. They wouldn’t even consider me when I first applied during Rush Week, my first year. This sent me straight into DIY mode, and now, here we are. I’m only in my second year, and I’m the proud mama of the baddest group of bitches on this campus if I do say so myself.
I go back to studying my manicure. Hm. Hanging the sign scratched up my paint job; I’ll have to buff that out again later.
“Seems to me Mu Kappa doesn’t have a problem discriminating based on size. Or any other identity you deem unworthy,” I say blandly.
“That’s not true. Our discrimination policy is in our bylaws. Do you even have a policy in place yet?” Kharlee asks.
I look up from my nails and level her with my gaze. “A piece of paper is nice, but your actual numbers don’t bear that out.”
As I listen to Kharlee explain civil rights to me, the man on the motorcycle revs his godawful engine and drowns her out completely. His eyes make contact with mine, and all I see is trouble. He’s revving on purpose to drown her out. An asshole, sure. But he’s up to some assholery I can get behind.
Because he isn’t wearing a helmet, I can see a pair of intense, dark eyes boring into me, and a smirk playing on his lips. He’s got tattoos on the backs of both hands that rest on the handlebars. His tee-shirt, his jeans—everything is too tight. His overall look is too much trouble for me on a Saturday night.
Unfortunately, Kharlee is still here on my porch, making noise. “My father is a lawyer, and I’m pre-law. I should know.”
I don’t like to point out who my parents are. It would be relevant in this case, but it still feels unseemly. So, I do not bother to explain that her father is a personal injury lawyer. While there is nothing wrong with that, there’s no comparison. My mother is a former public attorney who now runs one of the bigger civil rights teams in the country, and my father is a corporate litigator. The dean of Pine Mountain University isn’t going to brook any complaints of discrimination about my sorority if he doesn’t want Pine Mountain U to make national headlines for the wrong reasons.
I should tell Kharlee all this. But I don’t. I rather enjoy the idea of her wasting her time.
Flashing her my sweetest, most natural smile, I tell her, “Well, I suppose you’re right. You would know a thing or two about the law. What you might not know, Kharlee dear, is that I do not give a fuck.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” she says before toddling away in heels too high for her. Bless her heart.
Motorcycle Guy idles behind Kharlee’s BMW, looking too proud of himself.
She gives him a once-over as she opens her car door, sneers, and drives away.
Does he want a gold star for being an ass for my benefit? What the hell is he waiting for?