My whole demeanor changed, and I put on my most charming smile. “Oh, hi, Ms. Maligner. Nice to meet you.” I glanced up at the house. “They’re out right now, but I’d be happy to pass along a message.”
Judy’s eyes narrowed. She appreciated how my attitude had changed when she’d dropped that she was the HOA president, but she was still suspicious. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
I tightened my smile. I looked familiar because I’d been Preston’s friend through high school and spent every summer hanging out in his dad’s pool—not to mention Dr. Lowe had been nice enough to let me crash there for a few weeks after the prom debacle. Judy was fucking nosy and watched her neighbors’ houses like she had nothing better to do, so she’d seen me plenty of times.
But we’d never been introduced. “No,” I said, “I don’t think so.”
It was clear she didn’t believe me, but she couldn’t place me either. She gestured to the side of the house. “Please tell them they will be fined if their units don’t match.”
My gaze went to the three AC units that sat in a row on concrete pads beside the house. One of them was brand new, installed this morning, and had been pumping out icy cold air upstairs ever since. The large box was shielded in a gleaming dark metal, when the other two were smaller and a dull gray, probably original to the house.
“They’re different brands,” I pointed out. “I was around when the service guy was here. Sticking with the same brand was going to cost fourteen hundred more, and the output isn’t as good as this one.”
She wasn’t deterred. “They need to match.”
My brain was slower than my mouth, and it just slipped out. “They’re air conditioning units on the side of the house. Who gives a fuck?”
Judy gasped like I’d just spat at her. “They’re unsightly.”
What she was asking was insane. To get them to match, they’d have to rip out the new unit and replace it with an inferior one . . . or upgrade the other two units that worked perfectly fine. I knew I should stop digging, but I couldn’t. “But you can’t even see them from the road.”
That didn’t matter to her one bit. “The HOA rules are clear. Tell them to expect fines until they have this corrected.”
I clenched my jaw so hard it was a miracle I didn’t break any teeth. “All right.” If I could have told her to get fucking lost, I would have. Instead, I let ice creep into my voice. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Thankfully, she understood it was time for her to go. She flashed a vindictive smile, telling me she’d won this battle, before turning and starting her long walk down the hilly driveway.
My irritation rose when I got to the Sig house and discovered Riley wasn’t there. It was early, though. The party didn’t start until ten, and it wouldn’t really get going until eleven, so I had a few hours to kill. I spent my time hanging out with Jorge and a few other guys, helping them finish their ‘not-clothes’ for the evening.
It was weird to be back in my frat, and I nearly went upstairs to my old room to change before remembering I didn’t live there anymore. But there were things that never bothered me before jumping out at me now.
Like, how a house full of college dudes was fucking gross—especially the bathrooms. In the short month I’d been with Petal Productions, I’d already become accustomed to the weekly housekeeper service they used. I only had to share a bathroom with Jaquan instead of five other guys, so it was always decent.
The one I currently stood in was filthy, and who knew what decade it had been the last time someone cleaned it.
I stripped down to my underwear and pulled on the half apron, using clear packing tape to seal the waistband closed around my hips. It was gladiator style, with pleat things dangling down to create a skirt and hide my junk, but it also kind of looked like a tutu. That was because it was made from glossy, pink striped paper, and the Victoria’s Secret logo was branded right across the front of the waistband.
One of my sister’s friends worked at the lingerie store and had the hookup over spring break, giving me as many extra bags as I wanted to create my costume. I completed the look with a matching paper bowtie and checked myself out in the mirror.
I looked awesome.
And hilarious. My cut chest and abs were the perfect contrast to the girlie pink skirt.
“Shit, bro,” Jorge said, eyeing me with jealousy when I came out of the bathroom. “Do you even work out?”
His costume consisted of three small donut-shaped pool floats stacked around his hips and thighs, each float a different color. He’d developed a bit of a beer gut this last semester, and his belly rested on the top float like he’d had to squeeze himself into it.