“Fucking tequila!”



          “Two of the kegs are tapped out and the other one is about halfway done. What do you want to do about getting the next keg?”

          Blake didn’t answer me. He was not interested in the finances or logistics of purchasing another keg. Standing with muscular arms folded across his chest and dark eyes fixated on the balcony above him, my spiky-haired roommate radiated pure animosity.

          “What’s wrong?” I asked.

          Blake snarled. “Yo, if this motherfucker doesn’t stop, I’m gonna fight his ass right now.”

           My hands instinctively balled into tight fists. If my roommate was going to fight, then I was going to fight. Such was our bond.

          “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

          “Thorne! He keeps spitting off the balcony. I already fucking told him to stop. Asshole is ruining our party!”

          I looked up at the balcony and saw an even drunker Thorne than the one I had dealt with earlier in the night. Leaning sideways on the railing, the redneck was holding a beer cup in his hand and snickering with some older brothers. A few seconds passed before he turned and spit beer from his mouth, nearly hitting the couch where several girls were doing upside-down margaritas.

          Blake immediately marched out in front of the couch and glared up at the redneck with furious eyes. Muscular brown arms lifted with palms facing the sky.

          “What!” he yelled. “Spit now, motherfucker! Spit on me! I fucking dare you!”

          Thorne’s lips twisted into a mischievous smile, the same smile he had shown me earlier in the night a few seconds before I slapped him. The redneck continued to laugh with his buddies, but he did not spit any more beer. Once again his manhood had been tested and once again he backed down like a coward.

          Blake shook his head in frustration and walked back to where I stood vigilantly watching. With the altercation now behind him, my roommate was all business.

          “Two of the kegs are out?” he asked. “I’ll go pick up another one if we need it.”

          “I’m not sure we’re gonna need it,” I replied.

          “What does Backstreet want to do?”

          I shrugged. We looked around the backyard for Backstreet and both started laughing when we spotted our blonde-haired roommate standing behind the couch. The kid was pouring tequila and margarita mix into his own mouth instead of the mouths of the girls sitting on the couch.

          “Backstreet!” Blake hollered.

          “Backstreet!” I yelled. “Get over here, playa!”

          The muscular young man lowered the bottles, and with liquor and margarita mix dripping off his chin, he swallowed the liquids with a big gulp. A smile of satisfaction formed on his face as he handed the bottles to an Upsilon brother and started walking towards us.

          “Two of the kegs are cashed,” I reported. “Do you want to get another one?”

          Backstreet glanced down at his sleek silver watch and said, “It’s almost 1:40. We need to pick it up soon, unless you want to drive to Georgia.”

          “Fuck em,” Blake said as he glanced around at the patrons of our party. “This thing will be broken up in an hour anyways. Let’s just sit on the money.”

          Backstreet nodded in agreement.

          “Works for me,” I said and produced a large roll of cash. “We did good tonight, boys. This party cost us a grand total of fourteen dollars.”

          “Hell yeah,” Blake said with a satisfied smile. “Let’s throw another one next week!”

          My girlfriend’s arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind and she whispered in my ear. “Hmmm, Baby…I feel so naughty without my panties on. Are you gonna punish me soon for being a bad little girl?”

          I turned around and grinned. “Soon. Very soon.”

          Twenty minutes later, I was talking with Ripper and Tadd about bodybuilding on the front stairway of my apartment. Our conversation was interrupted when a pledge came bursting out the front door.

          “Bryce! Bryce!” he screamed frantically. “There’s a fight in here!”

          I immediately flicked my cigarette over the railing and sprinted into the apartment with Tadd right behind me. We plowed through the crowds of people until we reached the middle of the living room where my fraternity brother Cortez was on top of some kid, pummeling his face. It was not a surprise to see Cortez fighting. He was a tough Cuban from Miami who liked to play the drums and liked to fight.

          Tadd powerfully shoved spectators backwards as I ripped Cortez off his fallen enemy. Not knowing who grabbed him from behind, Cortez struggled fiercely against my clutch.

          “Get the fuck off me!” he yelled.

          “Calm the fuck down, Cortez!” I exclaimed without releasing him. “It’s Bryce!”

          His body instantly relaxed when he realized the person restraining him was friend not foe. With Cortez now out of the way, a tall and balding fraternity brother of mine named Big E threw a last second cheap shot on the fallen kid, hitting him in the side of the shoulder.

          “That’s enough!” I yelled and moved in closer to hover protectively over the victim of the blow.

          A few of my other brothers were standing on the fringes of the fight. They too looked like they were itching to stomp the defenseless kid.

          I snarled at them. “Back off!”

          Tadd and I grabbed the guy off the floor and carried him through the kitchen to the back door. We set the kid down and told him to leave, but to my surprise, the bruised and battered young man started arguing with us.

          “This is total bullshit!” he exclaimed. “That fucking asshole started the fight for no reason. Kick him out!”

          I was not in the mood to debate proximate causation of the fight. This idiot did not realize the good service we had just provided him by saving him from what could have been a significantly worse beatdown. My nostrils flared and I jammed a finger in his cheek.     

“I don’t give a shit, motherfucker!” I cursed. “You need to leave right fucking now before those guys in there decide to come out here and jump your fucking ass!”

          The young man slowly looked back and forth between me and Tadd, noticing for the first time the intimidating size of our muscles. When he spoke again, the tone of his voice had shifted from aggressive to pleading.

          “I’m sorry, man. I’ll leave. But I lost my shoe, bro!”

          In evidence of this claim, he stuck out his leg and produced a shoeless foot. One of Shoeless Joe’s friends was standing behind me in the kitchen and offered his assistance.

          “It’s inside, dude,” he said. “I’ll go get it.”

          As the skinny young man turned to walk away, I snatched him by the collar like he was my kid brother and yanked him back to the doorway. 

          “No,” I commanded. “You stay here and I’ll go get it. Tadd, don’t let them back inside.”

          Tadd nodded sternly without taking his eyes off the young men.  

          I eventually located the missing shoe, but by the time I returned the lost item to its owner, another conflict had erupted in the living room between Blake and Cortez. Several brothers broke up the scuffle before any landing blows were thrown and I dragged my roommate out the front door.

          “What the fuck was that about?” I asked.

          “I’m sick of him starting shit at our parties!” Blake answered with a fiery look in his dark eyes. “That Miami Vice motherfucker is always brawling in my living room. It’s fucking disrespectful!”

          I recalled that Cortez had been involved with another fight at one of our parties, but before I could say anything to pacify my roommate, we both noticed that everyone standing on the stairway was watching the parking lot. My neighbor Marcellus and several of his large black friends were also gathered on the sidewalk below us and they too were staring out at the street. I looked for myself and was astonished to see yet another fight was brewing, this time between Thorne and the thuggish kid Kurt.

          “You gotta be kidding me,” I said and shook my head in frustration. “Fucking tequila! We’re never serving that shit at any of our parties ever again.”

          I swiftly descended the staircase and headed towards the parking lot, fully determined to break up the skirmish.

          “Nah, yo!” Blake called after me with a laugh. “Let that motherfucker get his ass kicked! I want to see that shit!”

          Out in the parking lot, Kurt and Thorne stood fifteen yards apart with their friends in-between them.

          “What up, nigga?” Kurt yelled. “What up? Let’s do this, dogg! Let’s do this!”

          Thorne threw his hands up and slurred, “I’m right here, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

          These words enraged the shaved head thug who tried to charge the redneck down, but his thug life crew grabbed him and blocked his path.

          Frustrated and furious, Kurt yelled, “What up, nigga! What up, nigga! Tres Deuce Folk right here, nigga! Fort Lauderdale, Tres Deuce Folk. East Side, nigga!”

          Some of Kurt’s friends saw me approach and one of them shook his head with an apologetic smile. I quickly calculated that the best way to defuse the heated situation would be to secure the manhood of the angry thug.

          “It’s not worth it, Kurt,” I said. “Look at him, he’s scared. He doesn’t want to fight you.”

          Thorne must have really pissed Kurt off because the thug did not seem to hear me and he continued to yell at his enemy across the parking lot.

          “Fuck you, nigga! Fuck you! I’ll kill you, nigga!”

          My concern began to grow. Marcellus and his large black friends were probably not going to tolerate the white boy using the taboo word “nigga” for much longer. I needed to do something fast before this conflict escalated into something far worse, so I tried an alternative tactic of appealing to Kurt’s sense of honor.

          “Kurt!” I said more forcefully. “I invited you to my party. We always invite you to our parties. I respect you and your boys and you’re always welcome here, but don’t disrespect my fucking hospitality!”

          These words seemed to register and have the desired impact I was looking for. Kurt looked at me for the first time and his aggressive posturing immediately ceased. A sincere look of guilt formed on his face.

          “You’re right,” he said quietly. “We do appreciate you inviting us to your parties. My bad. I’ll leave.”

          Kurt stuck his hand out, I shook it, and then he and his crew piled into their cars and left. The young man from South Florida may have been too thuggish for me to hang out with him, but he definitely proved he had the class of a gentleman.

          Thorne’s behavior proved no such thing. I walked over to where he stood slumped against his truck.

          “What happened, Thorne?”

          “I don’t know,” he slurred. “I don’t remember.”

          “What happened guys?” I asked the other rednecks.

          Coleman shrugged. “We left him alone for five minutes and then found him out here arguing with that wigger kid.”

          “Can you get Thorne out of here?”

          “Yeah. We’ll drive him home.”

          I could tell from their irritable facial expressions that the rednecks had also reached their limit and wanted nothing more to do with Thorne’s disruptive behavior. One of the young men put Thorne into the passenger seat of his truck and drove him home. The parking lot was dimly lit by street lamps, so I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw the same mischievous smile on Thorne’s face as they drove off. It was a smug smile that said, “I’m drunk right now, so my behavior will be excused tomorrow.”

          Wife Beaters and Skirts was eventually broken up when TPD showed up and kicked everyone out of my apartment. The lone cop was a tall, skinny man with glasses who acted like a rookie right out of the academy. When he first entered the door, he immediately pulled his gun on the roommate of one of my fraternity brothers. This overly cautious behavior greatly upset Tony who just happened to be black.

          “What the fuck, man?” Tony exclaimed furiously. “You went for your gun because I’m black, didn’t you?”

          “No, sir!” the officer ardently replied. “That’s not true at all!”

          “Yeah, it is. You pulled it because I’m black!”

“Imagine you’re me walking into a strange, dark apartment and someone large suddenly emerges on top of you from around the corner. What precautions would you take?”

          “Nah, man,” Tony said and shook his head. “That shit ain’t cool. You a racist, aren’t you? What’s your badge numba? I’m a report yo ass!”

          “No, sir!” the cop answered, his eyes widening. “I’m not a racist and I resent the accusation.”

          “Whateva, man. Whateva. You’re a racist cop!”

          Tony’s ranting was eventually pacified by his roommate who realized that arguing with the police officer was only going to get me and my roommates into more trouble.

Embarrassed by the incident, the cop decided to take out his frustrations elsewhere by sternly berating me for throwing a party filled with underage drinkers. I put my ROTC training to work by respectfully standing in front of the police officer in the military position of attention, nodding my head subserviently, and speaking only to say, “Yes, Sir. You’re right, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again, Sir.”

          The cop must have had a former military background because he responded well to this courtesy and let me off the hook with a warning. Frustrated and annoyed, I walked around the remnants of my party looking for Allison. Most of the guests had left, but a few of my friends were still lingering.

          “Yo, Bryce!” Blake greeted me in the living-room. “Come here, man. You gotta check this out.”

          I followed my spiky-haired roommate towards the outside balcony where I saw Moody leaning over the railing.

          “What’s he doing?” I asked.

          “Come see,” Blake laughed.

          We stepped outside and I observed a carton of eggs sitting on the railing. Moody had one of the eggs in his hand and he was aiming at something.

          “Watch this, Bryce,” he said and grinned at me devilishly. “Milton is snoring on the couch.”

          The egg was released and I watched it fall on Milton’s giant head. It was a perfect shot. Egg shell smacked forehead and yolk splattered. We all burst out laughing and I noticed the blobbish young man’s big barrel chest was already covered with yolk and broken shells.

          Moody grabbed another egg and took aim.

          “Don’t fucking miss,” I said cautiously. “I don’t want any of that shit on our couch.”

          “I never miss,” he said with a cocky smirk.

          “Especially not the Blob,” Blake snickered.

          I watched as Moody dropped another egg on Milton’s forehead. Splat. Another perfect shot and the snoring brother didn’t even stir.

          “Have you guys seen, Allison?” I asked.

          “Not in a while,” Moody answered.

          “I think I saw her go in your room,” Blake said as he picked up an egg. “She probably passed out.”

          “Damn,” I muttered and walked back inside.

          I was still pissed about being grilled by the cop and wanted to sublimate my frustration into some sweaty, drunken sex. Opening my bedroom door revealed Allison sleeping underneath my comforter.

          “Shit,” I cursed and shifted my gaze to the computer on my desk. POV internet porn might do the trick.

          Allison’s eyes suddenly opened and she threw back the covers. My naked girlfriend was still very much awake, was still very much wearing black knee highs, and was still very much eager for round two to begin.

          “You ready, Baby?” she asked with a seductive smile and spread her sexy thighs.

          “Fuck yeah,” I replied and locked the door.

          “Good. I’m so wet right now. I’ve been horny all fucking night.”

          I stripped naked, crawled up between her legs, and we went at it. There were many reasons I dated Allison, but this was probably the most essential. I loved to fuck and she was a sexual freak that loved to get fucked. Damn I loved them boots.

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