Page 31 of No Saint
I took the posterboard from the chair, taped it to the front of the table, then stepped back to read over it as it wavered in the breeze.
SAVE THE ENDANGERED SPHENISCUS DEMERSUS.
Fucking ridiculous…
I sank onto one of the sunbaked metal folding chairs and stared out over the crowded concourse. My stomach let out a low grumble. The Pop-Tart I’d grabbed on my way out the door that morning had long gone, but at least I hadn’t succumbed to food poisoning.
A group of hipster-looking guys parted, and Rogue shouldered his way through, clutching two cardboard boxes against his—I felt my brow wrinkle—pink shirt?
“Why the hell are you wearing pink?” I swore if this was another of his ideas on how to get more donations for this bullcrap charity, I was going to bitch slap him.
He dropped the box onto the table, grabbed a few of the rubber penguins from inside, and placed them on the tabletop. “Cassie is evidently crap at laundry.”
That girl was vengeful as hell and petty as all fuck. “Somehow, I doubt that was an accident.”
He dropped to the seat beside me and snatched two more penguins from the box. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this shit isn’t worth it.”
Because she’d dyed his Gucci shirt pink… “If one pink shirt is all it’s taken for you to realize that, then you didn’t think this through. At all. I told you, dude. And this is only the start.”
Cassie probably had a list a mile long of ways to try to have us waving a white flag.
His attention drifted to three girls passing the table. “Good afternoon, ladies. Can we interest you in donating to our charity?”
They stopped, wide smiles spreading over their faces. “Hi, Wolf,” the brunette said, twirling hair around her finger. “You played really well last weekend.”
“Thanks.” I forced a somewhat genuine smile. Maybe, had I thought she actually cared about the game and wasn’t trying to hit on me, it wouldn’t have been forced.
The other girl picked up a penguin, squealing how cute it was. “How much are they?”
“Only five bucks,” Rogue said with a grin.
Two of the girls eagerly passed over cash, took a penguin, and walked off, disappearing on the sunny concourse.
Rogue nudged my side. “Tell me this—” He plucked one of the rubber bath toys from the table and held it up against the sunlight—“isn’t genius.”
I couldn’t argue with him about it. Those cheap-ass rubber toys had proven, at least, so far, to be a foolproof way to deal drugs smack dab in the middle of campus. To anyone passing by on the busy concourse, it looked like we were two guys selling crap to raise money for our charity. Little did most people know that the box Rogue had tucked underneath the table was filled with penguins that hadEshoved up their asses. They just had to ask for apingerinstead of a penguin, and we charged them ten bucks for the toy.
Rogue’s stomach let out a loud rumble. “Bro…” He placed a hand on his stomach. “Do you feel okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“My stomach is messed up.”
“Yeah, no shit. You ate food that Jade and Cassie cooked. Bell’s sick, too. The bacon was probably raw.”
“My stomach is made of steel. It can handle some raw pig.”
“Maybe they poisoned it.”
He snorted. “Right…”
“Dude, you really underestimate Cassie.”
“Do I think Cassie may end up smashing the windows? Possibly shit on the bed out of spite? Yes.” He rubbed over his stomach. “Poison me? She likes my pretty face and massive cock too much.”
And thoughts like that were what would get him killed.
His attention went back to the busy concourse, and he cupped his hand around his mouth. “Help save the penguins. Flightless birds need love, too.”
