Page 50 of Something Like Winter
And of course it was Quentin who had called this meeting. He stood at the speaker’s podium they normally dragged out for rituals, waiting for all the brothers to file in the room. Quentin was the consummate frat boy: white as the suburbs—despite the fake tan—and decked out in a polo shirt tight against his muscles. When he smiled, his teeth were just as bright as the gold chain around his neck. The All-American Boy look was shared by most of Tim’s other fraternity brothers, enough that they could have been clones. Lately, when Tim looked in the mirror, he felt disturbed rather than proud.
That’s one reason he liked Travis. That Huck Finn vibe really stood out. Travis was already in the common room, the only person other than Quentin who was showered and alert. Everyone else was still recovering from the excess of drinking and drugs the night before.
“Fund raising,” Quentin said, his booming voice answered by a number of groans, Tim’s among them. “Stop your bitching! The roof isn’t up to code, one of the air conditioners stopped working, and the floor is completely fucked. If you pussies want to keep living here, you’ll get out there and bring in some money. No fraternity house, no fraternity.”
Tim kept looking over at Travis, hoping to catch his eye. He was sure, from the way he moved his head slightly, that Travis saw him. Naturally, Travis then turned away, which Tim supposed was all the answer he needed.
“We’ve got a number of schemes this year,” Quentin continued. “Some of you will be hitting the streets, selling scratch tickets. People can’t win money, but some of them have invitations to our best parties and events, so don’t forget to remind them how much booze and pussy we get here. Charm the hell out of girls to make sales, but for fuck’s sake, don’t give away any tickets. I know how many there are, and it’ll come out of your wallet if any go missing.”
Tim let Quentin drone on. He knew the drill. Quentin always made up excuses as to why they needed money. It was always the roof, curiously enough, but no one here seemed to remember him saying that the year before or didn’t call him on it. The truth was, most of the money went to the parties, but whatever. One week of work for all the benefits they received wasn’t bad.
And Tim knew he wouldn’t get one of the crappy jobs like selling tickets or working the car wash. Quentin came from a long line of Alpha Theta Sigma brothers and took it seriously. Most guys here just wanted status, but Quentin upheld a tradition started by his great-grandfather. That Tim’s father was also a brother earned him major points.
“Each of you will be paired with your roommate. Only one of you report for your assignment. Figure out who’s talking to me. Don’t both come up here or it’ll piss me off.”
Tim looked over at Travis, who grudgingly made eye contact. Tim pointed at himself, and Travis nodded. Now Travis would have to interact with him today if they were going to be hitting the alumni for money. That was by far the easiest fund-raising job. All they had to do was talk to some old geezers and listen to their fondest memories or whatever before a fat check was cut.
Tim waited behind a few other guys, and sure enough, when he talked to Quentin, this was the assignment he was given.
“Get out there today,” Quentin said. “A lot of these guys still work, so the weekend is your best chance. You should be able to get them all by the end of tomorrow.” He handed Tim a list, glancing at it first and smirking. “Eric Conroy is on there. Start with him. He’s loaded and always happy to dish out cash.”
“No problem.”
Tim scanned the list of names and addresses, glad that all were in Austin. Last year he had to drive an hour out of town for a lousy hundred dollar check. He looked up when he reached Travis and grinned.
“Good news. We’re spending the weekend together!”
* * * * *
The interior of the 3000GT felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls, only the muffled sounds of traffic outside invading the silence. Every movement felt deliberate and awkward. Tim had tried everything to make Travis unwind. Music didn’t help, since Travis wouldn’t speak over it. Any conversation he attempted was met with grunts or silence.
Travis wasn’t in a slump. At the last house they visited, he’d been as animated and charming as ever. The alumnus there was from Kentucky as well, giving them plenty to talk about, along with a five hundred dollar check. But as soon as they were back in the car, Travis clammed up again.
“What do you think the trade-in value on this car would be?” Tim asked. “I mean, I wonder if selling it would get more cash.”
He wasn’t really planning on getting rid of his car. He had taken the best possible care of it. Not that he wouldn’t mind trading up, but he doubted his parents would fork over the cash to get something new. Travis was a car enthusiast, jabbering nonstop the first time he rode in Tim’s car, talking about tweaks he could do on the engine or cars he had driven back home.
“What do you think?”
“You always get more selling,” Travis said, looking out the passenger window. “If you do it right.”
Okay. That was a start. “It just sounds more convenient going to a dealership and driving away with something. What sort of car do you think I should get?”
No answer. Tim waited, hoping Travis was mulling it over, but nothing. They were only minutes from the house Quentin suggested they visit first. They’d hit a few others on the way, since Tim didn’t want to waste time driving back and forth through the city. Plus, Tim didn’t want to ruin a good prospect with Travis acting moody. Now the idea of him returning to his usual chipper self at the next house was irritating.
“Look, I don’t get why you can’t be yourself around me, of all people.” When there wasn’t a response, Tim pulled over to the side of the road. They were in the West Lake Hills area, where homes had multimillion dollar price tags. The house ahead was a sprawling one-story ranch with so much land there were no neighbors in sight. “Travis! Would you fucking look at me?”
Travis did, his eyes angry and accusatory. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Because if I do, the same shit will keep happening. You’ll ignore me for a while before you loosen up again. Then we’ll be friends until the next time you decide to get trashed, and you know damn well what happens next.”
“It won’t. Not again.”
“Why not?” Tim said. “We both have the same secret! I won’t betray you to anyone. Ever. You don’t have to be drunk to hook up with me. You don’t need an excuse.”
“I don’t want to be with you!” Travis snarled, ripping at the door handle. “I want a family!”
And then he was out of the car, tromping down the road. Tim let him go, figuring he needed to blow off steam. Travis was almost over the next hill when he stopped and leaned against a brick pillar of the cast iron fence. Still Tim waited, giving him time. Then he put the car in park, got out, and went to Travis, hearing the sniffs and seeing the tears before grabbing and hugging him. To Tim’s relief, Travis hugged him back.
