series of walkways, though each entrance was a sunken pit in front of a kind of communal picnic area. The whole design was so 1970s it might as well have a disco ball hanging in front of it. Though no sooner had he thought that did Kelly spy one spinning slowly inside the lounge of the building where the party was to be held.
He glanced around the quad, taking in the other three buildings in the pod, wondering if any of the residents minded all the noise. He read the names off the individual houses in front of their front doors: Ashburn, Chaney, Clark, Dahmer—
“ Dahmer ?” Kelly repeated, scandalized.
“Vernon, not Jeffrey,” Walter said. When Kelly looked at him blankly, he winked. “You must not have gotten there in your humanities course yet. All the manors are named after dead civil rights activists.”
“Oh.” Kelly blinked, relieved but still a bit thrown. “That’s…different.”
“That’s Hope, honey.” He put his hand on the small of Kelly’s back. “Rose is going to throw her back out trying to wave you over. Go say hi. I’ll catch up after I thank Luna for letting me crash.”
It turned out Walter wasn’t exaggerating—Rose hung out the window of one of the lower floors, a red Solo cup in one hand and a long necklace banging against her cleavage as she gestured wildly to Kelly. For the first time since he’d met her, Rose didn’t have on some kind of hat. Her long hair was curled, even, and she wore makeup.
There was also a lot of cleavage. He stared at it, realizing he hadn’t noticed how well-endowed she was before.
She caught him looking and laughed, leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Kelly, sweetheart! I’m so glad you came. I was too drunk to come get you.” She waved her red cup, sloshing some of her drink onto herself. “Come on in. I’ll get you something.”
“What room are you in? I’ll come around and—” He yelped as she put down her cup and dragged him in through the window.
The room was full of women, all of them as drunk as Rose. Several of them were snuggled together, one group a threesome. They smiled up at Kelly, waving as Rose introduced him. It was the usual get-to-know-you chitchat, Rose’s friends asking where Kelly was from, making the Mayberry joke when he said Minnesota, and they all announced they were from various Chicago suburbs. A few of them started telling random stories about Chicago—at the same time—but when Kelly realized two of the girls in the threesome had their hands down the third girl’s pants, actively getting her off, he shot to his feet and gestured at the door.
“I’m going to go find Walter,” he said to Rose, and beat it the hell out of Dodge.
He found his roommate in the main lobby, sipping water from a bottle as he talked to a cute, short blonde with perfectly applied makeup, more cleavage going on than Rose, and purple streaks in her hair. She waved as he came over.
“Hi, I’m Luna. You must be Kelly. Rose told me all about you. Oh good, I see you already got something to drink.”
Kelly looked down at the glass in his hand, surprised to see it there. “Rose gave it to me, I think.”
Luna laughed—wickedly. “Yeah, she’s been hitting the hard stuff. She’s going to be fun tonight.”
While Kelly tried not to actively recoil from all the lesbian imagery, Walter took the drink from his hands and sniffed the rim. His eyes went wide, and he handed it to Luna. “Babe, do you have something a little less toxic? My boy’s not a heavy.”
“Sure thing.” Luna set Kelly’s glass down and gestured to a makeshift bar in the middle of the room. “Help yourself. Music’s down in my room, number four.”
She drifted away, and Kelly watched her go as Walter guided him to the table of alcohol. “I can’t believe she and Rose are sleeping together. She never even said anything about dating someone.”
“If I know Manchester, and I do, I can’t say I’m surprised. She plays everything close to the vest.
He glanced around the quad, taking in the other three buildings in the pod, wondering if any of the residents minded all the noise. He read the names off the individual houses in front of their front doors: Ashburn, Chaney, Clark, Dahmer—
“ Dahmer ?” Kelly repeated, scandalized.
“Vernon, not Jeffrey,” Walter said. When Kelly looked at him blankly, he winked. “You must not have gotten there in your humanities course yet. All the manors are named after dead civil rights activists.”
“Oh.” Kelly blinked, relieved but still a bit thrown. “That’s…different.”
“That’s Hope, honey.” He put his hand on the small of Kelly’s back. “Rose is going to throw her back out trying to wave you over. Go say hi. I’ll catch up after I thank Luna for letting me crash.”
It turned out Walter wasn’t exaggerating—Rose hung out the window of one of the lower floors, a red Solo cup in one hand and a long necklace banging against her cleavage as she gestured wildly to Kelly. For the first time since he’d met her, Rose didn’t have on some kind of hat. Her long hair was curled, even, and she wore makeup.
There was also a lot of cleavage. He stared at it, realizing he hadn’t noticed how well-endowed she was before.
She caught him looking and laughed, leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Kelly, sweetheart! I’m so glad you came. I was too drunk to come get you.” She waved her red cup, sloshing some of her drink onto herself. “Come on in. I’ll get you something.”
“What room are you in? I’ll come around and—” He yelped as she put down her cup and dragged him in through the window.
The room was full of women, all of them as drunk as Rose. Several of them were snuggled together, one group a threesome. They smiled up at Kelly, waving as Rose introduced him. It was the usual get-to-know-you chitchat, Rose’s friends asking where Kelly was from, making the Mayberry joke when he said Minnesota, and they all announced they were from various Chicago suburbs. A few of them started telling random stories about Chicago—at the same time—but when Kelly realized two of the girls in the threesome had their hands down the third girl’s pants, actively getting her off, he shot to his feet and gestured at the door.
“I’m going to go find Walter,” he said to Rose, and beat it the hell out of Dodge.
He found his roommate in the main lobby, sipping water from a bottle as he talked to a cute, short blonde with perfectly applied makeup, more cleavage going on than Rose, and purple streaks in her hair. She waved as he came over.
“Hi, I’m Luna. You must be Kelly. Rose told me all about you. Oh good, I see you already got something to drink.”
Kelly looked down at the glass in his hand, surprised to see it there. “Rose gave it to me, I think.”
Luna laughed—wickedly. “Yeah, she’s been hitting the hard stuff. She’s going to be fun tonight.”
While Kelly tried not to actively recoil from all the lesbian imagery, Walter took the drink from his hands and sniffed the rim. His eyes went wide, and he handed it to Luna. “Babe, do you have something a little less toxic? My boy’s not a heavy.”
“Sure thing.” Luna set Kelly’s glass down and gestured to a makeshift bar in the middle of the room. “Help yourself. Music’s down in my room, number four.”
She drifted away, and Kelly watched her go as Walter guided him to the table of alcohol. “I can’t believe she and Rose are sleeping together. She never even said anything about dating someone.”
“If I know Manchester, and I do, I can’t say I’m surprised. She plays everything close to the vest.
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