Page 8 of No Saint
If Rogue saw him, after I’d told him Cassie had been at that frat, it would start a fight I wasn’t in the mood for. Rogue hated every single member of that stupid frat just because they were associated with Tommy.
I stared in disbelief as the idiot continued straight toward us.
“He has a death wish,” Petey mumbled.
Winston gave the cheerleaders a fleeting glance before he stopped in front of Petey.
“What the fuck do you want?” I said.
“We, uh…” Winston’s pale cheeks washed a little pink, his nervous attention pinging between the three of us. “We want to buy some pills.”
“We?” I said, lifting a brow.
“The frat.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, his hand shaking when he held it out. “I have cash.” No small amount, either.
My focus drifted from the money to his stupid face. “What the hell does this look like to you? A fucking McDonald’s drive-thru?”
“Come on, Wolf.” His hand fell to his side. “I know you guys supply the other frats. We just want a good party. Same as the rest of you.”
“And you think I give a shit about your parties?”
The gate behind us creaked, followed by the clang of metal. Winston’s gaze shot in the direction of the noise. His face wentstark white, and he took a cautious step back. Followed by another. At least he wasn’t completely stupid.
“You…” Rogue rounded the bench, his finger pointed angrily at the dipshit. “Can fuck off! I told you before, your pussy-ass frat isn’t getting any pills.”
Winston froze like a memorial statue erected in honor of all entitled pricks who had come before him. “Come on, man.” His voice cracked. “You know, Tommy thought you’d broken up.”
Oh, wrong thing to say. Wrong thing to say… I bit the inside of my lip, waiting for Rogue to throw a punch. To my surprise, he dropped beside me on the bench.
“It has nothing to do with that.” It had everything to do with that shit. The flick of a lighter sounded. “I just don’t like your fucking frat.”
Lifting a brow, I turned to look at the billboard of petty, the blue sky behind him, sun shining. “Seriously, dude?” I leaned closer to Rogue. “We could makesomuch more money…” I whispered in a mocking tone. If he was willing to piss off Gator for the extra money he didn’t need, he couldn’t cherry pick clients.
Rogue’s eye twitched. “I don’t do business with shitheads.” He motioned toward Winston, still frozen a few feet away, money clutched in his hand. Rogue stood. The moment he took one menacing step forward, Winston took off, blades of grass kicking up in his wake.
A boom of laughter left our group as we watched the little rich boy flee.
“Seriously, dude,” I said, thumbing toward the cowardly cum stain. “He had cash. You are the second pettiest person I’ve met in my life.”
Hendrix Hunt would always hold first place in that regard…
“It’s called a smart business decision.” He tapped his temple. “Tommy is an untrustworthy asshole who would rat us out in a second.”
“All those frat assholes are untrustworthy. We still supply them.” Trust tended to be bought when they knew breaking it would result in a baseball bat to the knees.
“You know why Tommy was valedictorian of his wannabe-prep school? Because he paid off the proctor during final exams to accuse the competition of cheating.”
Jesus, him and his idea of corruption. Bellamy used to sell old exams to students in high school, and we all gave him shit for being a good Samaritan. Paying off someone to lie was literally nothing.
“We have a fake penguin charity to deal drugs and clean our money, for fuck’s sake,” I said.
“That’s not even close to the same thing.” Rogue ashed his joint, his attention drifting to the cheerleaders. “He’s a snake. Theta Kappa won’t get shit from us.”
Rogue’s not wanting to sell to that frat had nothing to do with Tommy being a “snake,” and everything to do with his ego.
Not that I could talk.
Mine had me stealing that Challenger and risking jail time.
