Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Time!” he says, tapping his phone. Then he laughs. “See that? You flunkies are in good hands no matter how the vote goes in January. With that, I draw this meeting to a close. Hockey and dogs for all!”
A whoop goes up, and I rise from my chair.
“Nice job, man. Top shelf,” Ahmad says as he slaps me on the back. “Great party, too.”
“Dude, it was sick,” enthuses Owen Rickman, another one of Hayworth’s pals.
“That’s high praise, my man.” I manage to keep a straight face.
“Hey, Bailey? Hayworth? Wait up a second.” Tim Hoffman is waving us over. “I need party receipts from you guys.”
“Oh sure.” I dive into my pocket, happy to be asked. I fronted the money for the party, and I’m counting on the reimbursement to make rent this month. Plus, I blew off Friday night’s shifts, too, so I could witness Keaton’s Dance-off. “Here’s all my receipts, plus a spreadsheet printout with the totals.”
“Thank you kindly,” Hoffman says. “Keaton?”
“Oh, uh…” Keaton frowns. “I’ll run upstairs and see what I can find. What was the budget? I’ll just bring you receipts for that much.”
“Twelve hundred,” Hoffman says. “But dude, that was the whole budget. You weren’t allowed to go over.”
“I’m covering it,” Keaton says.
“No.” Hoffman shakes his head. “The point of the Dance-off is to throw a killer party inside that budget.”
In the silence that follows, I realize what just happened. Keaton broke the campaign rules. Badly, if the color of his face and neck are any indication.
And I might have just won the presidency.
“It’s right there in the chapter handbook,” I say slowly. But I’m suddenly cheering inside.
Our treasurer frowns. “Hey, Reed?” He beckons to our president. “We have ourselves a situation. Hayworth overspent the budget, which is against regulations.”
“Really?” Reed’s attention swings in our direction. “How much over was he?”
All eyes shift toward Hayworth.
Keaton hangs his head. “I easily spent triple that.”
“It’s a blatant violation of the rules,” I say, just in case that’s not clear.
“I didn’t know!” he snaps. “Jesus. I was just trying to throw a good party.”
“Uh-huh. Nice job.” My laugh is merciless. “We definitely need to elect a president who doesn’t bother to read the handbook.”
His hazel eyes flash, and his big hands open and close again. The dude would like nothing better than to grab me and hurl me across the room.
So of course I smile at him. Because I never did know when to shut up.
“Guys?” Reed puts two fingers in his mouth and lets out a piercing whistle toward the TV room. “Come back here for a second! We’re not done.”
A collective groan rises up among the brothers. I can feel their frustration. So close to freedom.
After Reed explains the situation to the guys, it doesn’t take long for most of them to draw their lines in the sand.
My buddy Jako leaps into the fray. “Obviously Keaton should bow out of the race.”
“Says who?” Keaton demands
“Says common sense,” Jako answers with a smile. “And honesty. Decency. Respectability…”
“Bow out?” Judd snaps, stepping in. “Nobody’s bowing out.”
“Keaton cheated,” I growl.
“Unknowingly,” Keaton says quickly. “You make it sound like a plot to overthrow the government. Chaos reigns! The plunger will never be found!” He rolls his eyes. But his neck is still the color of an embarrassed tomato.
“This is stupid,” Judd declares. “K is as honest as they come.”
“Damn straight,” says someone else, and there are noises of agreement. I feel all my new allies slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
And I now realize this is not so simple. Keaton ought to bow out immediately. But if he doesn’t, and I make a big stink over it, I’m going to look like a tight-ass for pushing him out on a technicality.
Goddamn it.
“I know,” Owen says, brightening up. “Let’s have another round of parties! It’ll be a do-over.”
“No,” both Keaton and I snap in unison. Then we look at each other with identical frowns of irritation. But hey, at least we agree on something.
“There’s no budget for two more parties,” I point out. “And budgets matter. That’s kind of the point.”
Yup, I sound just like a tight-ass.
“Not to mention that winter break starts in four days,” Judd says. “Are we done here yet? Keaton made a mistake. He’s sorry. Would you really want to exclude the probable winner from the race on a technicality?”
As a matter of fact I would. But everyone is staring at me. They all want a hot dog and a view of the TV screen. I’m in the way of it.
“You know what?” I decide in a hurry. “Let’s just say that candidate Keaton ought to go read the rules of the fraternity he’s so keen to run. But it’s true that the Dance-off isn’t the most important measure of a man.”
“Right.” Owen nods. “We have dick measurements for that.”