Blood Games

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Now let’s calm down, everyone,’ Finley said as Cora grabbed the front of her tank top and yanked her up.

‘No need for violence,’ she said as Cora drove her across the room and rammed her back against a wall between two of the showers.

‘Is my camera okay?’ she asked as Cora clutched her throat.

Abilene had picked it up.

She located Cora and Finley in the viewfinder. ‘I guess it’s all right,’ she said.

‘Then tape this,’ Cora said, and punched Finley in the stomach.

The girl’s eyes bugged out. Her mouth sprang open. Her shoulders lurched off the wall as she bent at the waist, her neck thrusting against Cora’s hand.

‘Hey!’ Abilene snapped. ‘Don’t.’

‘Quit it!’ Vivian cried out. ‘For Godsake!’

‘Leave her alone,’ Abilene said.

Finley, pinned to the wall, wheezed for air. Her face was twisted with pain.

‘Let go of her,’ Abilene said.

Cora dropped her hand. The girl leaned forward, rump against the wall, and hugged her belly.

‘What’s the big idea, huh?’ Cora asked.

‘What are you, a pervert?’

Finley shook her head. She gasped something that sounded like, ‘Ontra.’

‘What?’

‘Let her catch her breath,’ Vivian said.

They waited. At last, Finley stopped holding herself, stood up straight, and said, ‘Entrepreneur.’

‘What?’

‘It means she…’

‘I know what it means,’ Cora said, casting an annoyed glance at Vivian.

‘This guy… he offered me two hundred bucks.’

To film us taking showers? ’

‘Videotape, actually. For his VCR.’

Cora didn’t bother to dry. She didn’t bother to put on her robe. Stark naked, twisting Finley’s arm, she guided the girl out of the shower room and dressing room, past the toilet stalls and sinks, and through the door to the hallway.

Abilene dried herself as fast as possible. Helen, flushed with excitement, didn’t bother to towel off. She struggled to pull the nightgown down her wet body, and finally succeeded. The fabric looked transparent where it clung to her skin. Abilene put on her robe, picked up her toilet articles and lifted the camera. Vivian, who’d also taken time to dry, belted her own robe, then gathered her possessions along with the robe, towel, and other things that Cora had left behind.

The three of them rushed into the corridor.

Helen carried the gorilla mask. It swung from her fist, dripping, like a severed head fresh from the guillotine.

Several other girls stood around, looking perplexed. Some were peering into the room Vivian shared with Cora. It looked as if Cora had caused quite a stir, hustling by with her prisoner.

Those who asked questions were answered with a brusk, ‘Never mind’ from Vivian. Who shut the door and locked it after Helen and Abilene were inside.

Finley sat on one of the beds, regarding her captors with a quizzical look.

Cora loomed over her, hands on hips. She was shiny and dripping. Her buttocks were red from the fall she’d taken trying to apprehend the girl. Vivian held out her robe. She snatched it away. Muttering ‘Thanks,’ she shoved her arms through the sleeves.

‘I hope this isn’t going to get ugly,’ Finley said.

‘Depends on how you look at death,’ Cora told her.

‘I must inform you, there’s a letter in my safety deposit box with instructions to be opened in the event of my demise.’

‘Cut the comedy,’ Cora said. ‘Who paid you to film us?’

‘Actually, he’s supposed to pay on delivery. At this point, I don’t expect that to happen.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Darryl Rathbone.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘A senior. He’s a Sig.’

‘What did he want the film for?’

‘I guess he figured it’d be a hit with his frat brothers.’

She shrugged, then frowned as if thinking about something. ‘Do you want to know what really happened?’

‘That’s the idea.’

‘Cause there’s a little more to it than the two hundred bucks.’

‘Tell us everything,’ Vivian said. She sounded as if she felt a little sorry for the girl.

‘Okay, here’s the thing. I’m over at the student union having a Pepsi, and I see him watching me. This is tonight, by the way. I’ve got my camera along — which is why all this happened in the first place. Anyway, I leave the union and I’m heading back here across the quad when he comes running up behind me and grabs my shoulder. I go, “Does this mean we’re going steady?” And he turns me around and goes, “Which dorm are you in?” I tell him, and he gets this big grin. He asks if I know her.’ Finley nodded toward Vivian.

‘Me?’

‘Yeah. He goes, “You know that honey, Vivian Drake?” I say I know who she is. I mean, who doesn’t? And then he tells me there’s like a pool going at the Sig house. Five hundred bucks, and it goes to the first guy that comes up with videotape of Vivian in the raw.’

Vivian’s face went crimson.

‘Those bastards,’ Cora muttered.

‘What a bunch of pigs,’ Helen said.

Vivian’s face was still bright red, but now her eyes shimmered. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her chin trembling.

‘He says I can make him the winner,’ Finley continued, ‘and he’ll give me two hundred. I tell him to get fucked, so then he grabs my camera away and holds it up like he plans to smash it on the concrete. “I’m not asking that much,” he goes. “It’ll be easy. Just keep your eyes open. Next time she’s taking a shower, just walk in and nail her and run. Wear a mask, or something.” So I tell him okay, just so I can get my camera back. He gives it to me. I start to walk off, and he tells me I’d better come through — or else.’

‘Or else what?’ Cora asked.

‘He said he’d put a bounty on me.’

‘A bounty?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What did he mean by that?’ Abilene asked.

‘He didn’t say. But I guess I’ll find out. Unless you gals want to do me a big favor and let me have the tape.’

‘When hell freezes over,’ Cora said.

‘Somehow, I thought you might say that.’

Vivian sat down on the other bed. She wiped her eyes with a sleeve of her robe. She sniffed. ‘The whole Sig house is in on this?’ she asked.

‘I guess so.’

‘If they’ve got that pool,’ Abilene said, ‘somebody else’ll be trying to collect. It won’t stop till they get you.’

‘We could report them,’ Helen suggested.

Vivian wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t want the administration finding out.’

‘We’ve got to do something,’ Abilene said.

‘Those slimebags,’ Cora muttered.

‘Do you know what I think we should do?’ Finley asked.

‘We know,’ Cora said. ‘Give them your tape.’

Finley shook her head. ‘I think we should torpedo the whole damn fraternity.’

‘We?’ Cora asked.

‘Whose side do you think I’m on, anyway?’

‘Your own.’

‘Yeah,’ Abilene said. ‘You didn’t have to go along with it.’

‘He threatened her,’ Vivian pointed out.

‘That’s no excuse.’

‘I wasn’t going to do it, not even after he came up with that bounty crap. But then I got to thinking. You know? I can always use a couple of hundred bucks. Also, I figured somebody else would do it, if I didn’t. So why not me? That way, I get the money and Rathbone leaves me alone. And then I sort of got caught up in the whole idea. A challenge, you know? Could I get away with it?’

‘Obviously not,’ Cora said.

‘But I figured it’d be fun to try.’ With a somewhat sheepish smile, she added, ‘It was. It was a gassaroonie. At least till you guys nailed me.’

‘I could tell you were having a good time,’ Abilene said. ‘Oh, yeah. Haven’t you ever done something really outrageous? There’s nothing like it. A blast. I do all kinds of stuff just because it’s risky. You oughta try it. We all oughta try it. And we can start by taking on the Sigs. We’ve gotta stop ’em in their tracks before somebody collects on the pool.’

Vivian, frowning, gazed at her. ‘Have you got any ideas?’

The young man who opened the front door of the fraternity house two hours later looked stunned. As if the last thing he expected to find on the porch at midnight was a group of five freshman co-eds, all wearing fancy, low-cut gowns, all but the girl with the video camera hanging onto beer bottles, mugging and swaying as if they were quite drunk.

‘Do y’know who I am?’ Vivian asked, slurring her words.

‘Uh… sure.’

‘These’re my friends.’

‘Yo!’ Cora blurted, and raised her bottle as if toasting the guy.

‘Pleased to make yer ’quaintance,’ Helen said.

‘Howdy,’ Abilene greeted him, and winked.

Finley, behind them, said nothing as she videotaped the scene.

‘What are… what’s going on?’

‘Come t’see the fellas,’ Vivian said. ‘Hear they’re hankerin’ t’see me.'

‘Gonna let ush in?’ Helen asked.

‘We’re gonna give ’em a show,’ Vivian said. A roll of ohe shoulder sent a strap of her gown sliding down her upper arm.

A frat brother appeared behind the guy in the door and looked out. His mouth fell open. ‘Holy shit,’ he said. ‘What gives?’

‘We do,’ Abilene said, winking as she shook her beer bottle at him.

‘They want to come in.’

‘For Godsake, who’s stopping them? Step right in, ladies.’ He pulled his friend out of the doorway. ‘Go get the others, Bill. I’ll escort these ladies into the parlor.’

Whirling around, Bill dashed to the stairway just beyond the foyer. He sprang up the stairs two and three at a time.

‘I’m Doug,’ said the other. He held the door wide and swept his arm, gesturing for the girls to enter. ‘This is certainly an unexpected surprise.’

‘It’ll get even bedder,’ Vivian said, giving his cheek a brief caress as she staggered by.

‘You gals have been partying, huh?’

‘Just gettin’ started,’ Cora said.

‘Feelin’ wild ’n homy,’ Helen said.

Abilene halted, facing Doug. With a slanted grin, she said, ‘We know you Siggies’re wild ’n homy, too.’ Doug proved her point by fastening his eyes on her cleavage. ‘Yer gonna see a lot more’n that preddy soon.’

He blew through his pursed lips. ‘Whew. Can’t wait, if I do say so myself.’ Abilene walked on.

Looking back, she saw Finley poke her lens into the guy’s face. ‘I’m the official historian. The tape of tonight’s proceeding will be copied by my own self and sent to your esteemed fraternity.’

‘Great. Fabulous.’

Doug led them into the ‘parlor,’ a dimly lighted, plushly furnished room to the left of the foyer. As he scurried about, turning on lamps, the sounds of voices and thudding footfalls came from above.

Abilene heard whoops and yells.

Someone yelled, ‘You gotta be shitting me!’

Another voice shouted, ‘WHO?’

‘Fuckin’ A!’

'Five of ’em?’

‘I be died ’n gone to heaven!’

‘Let me at ’em! ’

‘Bombed? Oh, man!’

Doug laughed and shook his head. ‘Sounds as if the guys’ll be along any minute. Would you ladies like to be seated and make yourselves comfortable?’

They all glanced around at the sofas and easy chairs, as if considering the offer. Finley panned the room with her camera.

‘We can’t very well do what we’re gonna do,’ Vivian said, ‘if we’re sitting down.’

‘Sides,’ Cora said, ‘you guys’ll wanta be sittin’ for our show.’ Doug pursed his lips again and scrunched up his eyes. He appeared to be in an agony of expectation.

Abilene, standing shoulder to shoulder with her friends, watched a herd of young men stampede down the stairs. They let out whoops and war cries. Only a few were fully dressed. Some wore robes. Many were bare to the waist, some wearing only shorts or pajama bottoms. A few wore nothing but skivvies. What’ve we gotten ourselves into here? Abilene wondered. Her heart slammed so hard that she felt dizzy, and she struggled to catch her breath.

As those at the front of the crowd reached the parlor’s entryway, Vivian raised her beer bottle. ‘Greetings, fellas!’

A cheer went up.

‘Quiet down ’n take your seats,’ she announced. ‘The show will not begin until you’re all seated and we have your undivided attention.’

‘You’ve sure as shit got that,’ said a leering thick-neck who looked like a body-builder. He wore black, bikini underwear. He peered at the tops of Abilene’s breasts as he sauntered past her.

I’m gonna have a coronary, she thought. I’m gonna drop dead on the floor and they’ll gang-bang me while they wait for the paramedics.

Every single one of the Sigs — and Abilene figured there must be more than twenty of them — ogled her and Cora and Finley and Vivian (especially Vivian, of course), and most of them even gawped at Helen, whose massive bosom threatened to pop free of her low-cut dress.

A lot of the guys had red faces. Some looked nervous. Others grinned. Abilene saw plenty of shaking heads. She heard sighs and a few low whistles.

At least they’re all strangers, she thought.

She’d seen most of them around campus, but Rush Week hadn’t taken place yet so there were no freshmen among them. It was daunting that they were all upper-classmen, but a relief that nobody here was in classes with her.

Turning around, she watched them scurry for easy chairs and crowd onto the sofas, pushing and shoving. Several of them ended up sitting on the floor’s plush, burgundy carpet.

Soon, all of them were seated except one. He was a tall, slender guy with short hair and a smirking face. He wore faded blue gym shorts and sandals. He stood in front of an armchair that looked like a throne.

‘On behalf of my somewhat astonished brothers,’ he said, ‘I bid you welcome to the Sig house. I’m Cliff Rogers, President.’ With that, he sat down.

Vivian raised her beer bottle toward him. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Vivian Drake, but I suppose all of you know that.’

Nods, murmurs, grins.

‘I’m Cora Evans, Viv’s roommate.’

‘Abilene Randolph.’

‘Helen Winters.’

‘Finley here. Virginia Finley.’ As she spoke, she swept the audience with her camera.

‘We want you all to know our names,’ Vivian said. ‘Know them and remember them. And remember what we do here tonight.’

‘And what, exactly, is that?’ Cliff asked.

‘First, we collect.’

‘Collect?’

She smiled broadly and nodded. ‘Five hundred bucks. That’s the amount, right?’

‘Does anyone know what she’s talking about?’ Cliff asked, scanning his frat brothers.

They all shook their heads, murmured disclaimers, and tried to act innocent.

‘Whoever’s keeping the kitty,’ Cora said, ‘had better run and fetch it.’

‘Or the show doesn’t go on,’ Vivian added. ‘The way we see it, a live show with the five of us’ll be a lot more fun for you fellas than a plain old videotape of just me.’

‘In addition,’ Finley announced, ‘you’ll get a tape of the festivities. To help you remember.’

‘You aren’t serious,’ Cliff said.

‘Watch and see,’ Vivian said.

‘Money first,’ Cora said.

Eyes narrow, Cliff regarded the girls. Then he nodded toward a husky guy on one of the sofas. ‘Rathbone, go get it.’

A cheer went up.

Rathbone rose to his feet, hitched up his sagging boxer shorts, and strode toward Finley. He jabbed an index finger at her lens. ‘You,’ he muttered. ‘You’re meat.’

‘I’m trembling,’ she said.

Several of the guys booed and jeered.

‘Hey Boner, she beat you out?’ someone called.

Rathbone flipped his middle finger at his detractors, then hurried from the parlor. Swinging around, Finley taped his exit.

After he was gone, the room fell silent. The girls stood motionless, side by side. The Sigs stared at them, eyes darting about, never settling, focusing briefly on breasts here, faces there, then moving on but coming back a few moments later.

This was a very stupid idea, Abilene thought. Should’ve just let Finley hand over the shower room tape.

We’re out of our minds.

She suddenly ached to whirl around and run for it.

But she stood her ground.

She’d agreed to the plan. It had seemed like madness from the instant it came out of Finley’s mouth. But Vivian had fallen for it with vengeful glee. They’d all fallen for it.

Now we’re gonna get reamed, Abilene thought.

Rathbone came back into the parlor, stepped in front of the girls, gave Finley a murderous glare, then offered a thick stack of money to Vivian.

She set her beer bottle on the carpet at her feet, and took the money. She counted it. Finished, she smiled. ‘Is everybody ready?’

The Sigs went wild, clapping, stomping their feet, shouting and whistling.

‘Could we have some music?’ Vivian yelled. ‘Something lively.’

One of the guys rushed over to the stereo.

Michael Jackson came on, singing ‘Bad.’

The girls began.

They danced, writhing sensuously, bobbing their heads with the beat, rolling their shoulders, thrusting out their pelvises. Finley taped the guys as she danced. Abilene, Helen and Cora smiled and waved their beer bottles. Vivian flapped the stack of money in front of her face like a fan.

‘Take it off,’ Cliff called.

The others started chanting it.

‘Take it off, take it off, take it off!’

‘Ladies?’ Vivian asked.

They nodded.

Vivian switched the bills to her left hand. She slipped her right hand slowly, very slowly, down the top of her gown. Abilene, following suit, reached inside her own gown and caressed her breast. So did Cora. So did Helen.

The guys went wild, cheering and hooting.

Vivian’s hand came out with a Bic lighter. She kicked over the beer bottle at her feet. Abilene, Cora and Helen upended their bottles. The fluid burbled out, splashing onto the carpet.

A stench of gasoline filled the air.

Fire erupted from Vivian’s lighter.

She touched it to the money.

The Sigs went silent.

Shouting, ‘Don’t ever fuck with us!’ Vivian hurled the fiery bills into the air.

Abilene glimpsed them fluttering down toward the fuel-soaked carpet. Most of them seemed to be burning. Most of the Sigs looked as if they’d been kicked in the nuts.

She didn’t stick around to watch the outcome.

None of the Sigs pursued them when they fled the house. They must’ve been too busy — as Finley had predicted — trying to extinguish the fires and maybe save some of the money.

Fire trucks never came.

The fraternity house didn’t bum down.

The following week, a new carpet was installed and a rumor went around campus that a drunken Sig had fallen asleep in the parlor while smoking a cigarette.

Finley, as promised, mailed a copy of the videotape to the boys.

Abilene, Helen, Finley, Cora and Vivian stuck together after that, their friendship welded by the madness of that night — welded, too, by determination to protect one another from avenging Sigs.

During the remainder of their undergraduate years at Belmore, they ran into many Sigs. Sigs gave them strange looks. Sigs muttered things, always out of hearing range. Sigs never asked any of them for a date.

And Sigs never, ever fucked with them.