For Those Who Don't Believe in Love Songs

Chapter 17 Pt 1- Jello Shots

They made their way up to the crowd. The Sigma Alpha Epsilon house was a Spanish Colonial with white stucco walls and a clay tiled roof. James squeezed himself and Martha around the side of the mob and got the attention of one of the guards. Eyes fervent, the boy looked young – probably a freshman like Martha.

James shouted over the crowd. "Sup, man?! You an active or a pledge?!"

The boy's face turned serious. "Uh... a pledge." It was clear he was trying, but his nerves belied any sense of authority.

"That's cool, right on!" James encouraged. "I'm a brother in town from another chapter! Why don't you grab an active for me!"

"Oh yeah, sure," the boy said and turned to an older, fatter boy next to him. "Mr Foster! This guy's from another... another chapter from, like... another school!"

The older boy frowned at the pledge and then at James.

"Phi Alpha, brother," James said, making use of the charm he'd packed for the administrators. "Illinois Beta house, pledge class '98."

"Yeah?" the older boy said skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm out for my cousin's wedding and the reception was dry. Fucking dry! You believe that shit?!"

"That's fucked up," he said, still unconvinced.

"Hey yo, I got my girl with me." James motioned to Martha whom the boy quickly looked up and down. It gave her the creeps but she smiled for sake of the mission. James continued, "So I'm not even jackin' your ratio."

The older boy took a drag from his cigarette then said, "Yeah okay. Phi Alpha, bro." He slapped hands with James.

James guided Martha up the steps and through the crowd. She kept her head down for fear of making eye contact with James' creepy new 'brother.' They entered the house and came to a foyer crowded with drunken undergrads. Most were paired with the opposite gender. Martha felt James' grip on her hand tighten slightly.

Directly in front of them was a set of double doors. A pair of girls opened them to enter and the treble of electronic dance music escaped for a moment. The doors closed leaving the bass to thump. To their right and left were rooms attached by encased doorways.

"Wanna look around?" James asked.

Martha nodded. They turned right, weaved through the crowd and into a room with a billiard table that currently served as a bench for a half dozen girls as they entertained a half dozen boys' juvenile courtship. Most of the room's walls were filled with framed photographs or photo collages of past and current fraternity brothers. Some were group pictures staged in front of the house. Others were individual portraits arranged in rows and columns. The boys in the photographs wore suits and ties as if dressed for Senate runs. Presently, Martha smelled second hand smoke and cheap cologne with a hint of week old garbage.

"You ever join one of these?" Martha asked.

"Yes," James answered.

"Really?"

"240 lives... There are few things I haven't tried."

"Right. How was it?"

James shrugged. "Not bad. I met some good people. But it's... In a way, it's like high school. In high school, you have a limited selection of peers. So if you're into SoCal punk rock, but your school is full of Vanilla Ice fanatics, you're out of luck. College is different. It doesn't matter your passion or style or ideology... you can find your people."

Her father's stuttering advice from August suddenly flashed in Martha's head. Were her people out there? Had she cut herself off?

James continued, "Remember the party at Scott DiMonte's house?"