The Burning Bush (16 page)

“I thought college was all about books and boring stuff,” Angel confessed, as we strolled up the dusty path. “If I knew it was about getting drunk, I would have done much better back in high school. You think you’re up for this, Miss Pink?”

“I’m used to the fraternity life,” Cassie announced, even though her eyes popped open, drinking in the scene with a deliriously excited grin plastered on her face. “All my sisters are in Beta Gamma Beta, the guys’ sister sorority.”

“Really? How many sisters do you have?” I asked.

“Six.”

“Wow. Zulu only told me about you.” I headed up the steps.

“Well, that’s because I’m the only one that talks to him.” Cassie averted her eyes.

“I’m really not liking Zulu’s family,” Angel mumbled to me, forcing me to smack her back.

“That’s okay.” Cassie twisted. “I don’t think it’s right that my sisters made him an outcast. I’m moving out next year as soon as I graduate from high school. My mom and sisters are poisonous people.”

“Well, no one’s family is perfect.” I moved my locks out of my eyes and spotted a frat brother vomiting in the hedges toward the backyard.

“Why not move out now?” Angel offered, as we climbed up the concrete steps. She now had my purple coat tied around her waist. Her skin had returned to its normal vanilla hue. Sadly, Vee had informed her about the marker on her face, so Angel had washed it all away.

“Cassie’s too young to just move out,” I said.

“And besides, Zulu told me I couldn’t,” Cassie added.

As we made our way to the porch, a short, chubby Shifter sleeping on the top step opened his eyes.

“What time is it?” he whimpered.

“Time to stop drinking.” I jumped over him since he didn’t seem like he would be leaving the steps any time soon.

“Was this second victim, Shelly, a member of Gappa Kamma whatever?” Angel asked.

“Beta Gamma Beta,” Cassie corrected and then covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

“Yeah. Shelly was in the sorority,” I said. “MeShack probably knew her and could give us some more information.”

“He’ll probably give you something else too since Zulu isn’t around.” Angel winked. “Maybe something long and hard. Perhaps something that will make you moan and him purr.”

I knocked on the door with my right hand and gave Angel the middle finger with my left.

Hello, Angel! Zulu’s sister is here.

“You used to date MeShack Hooshmand, the leader of Mahogany Groove?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah. And please don’t call him MeShack.” I wagged my finger at her. “Around here he’s King Cheetah. If you call him MeShack, the brothers will just start singing this stupid song about a mighty cheetah that conquered the world. It’s irritating and makes me vomit blood.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool.” Cassie bounced her head to the rock song that was blasting from inside the house. “The cheetah song I mean, not the bloody throw-up.”

I banged on the front door again, sure the frat brothers couldn’t hear me over the noise.

To my luck, a Were-dog I had grown up with named K-9 peered out. “Lanore! Holy Shango and Oshun put together! I haven’t seen you in a year.”

K-9 towered over us with a jade-and-brown suede cowboy hat propped on top of his head. He didn’t have MeShack’s thick, bulky muscle, but he was still gorgeous, with midnight curls and gray eyes that sparkled when the sun hit them just right. I won’t lie—I had a tiny crush on him in high school.

His real name was Kenneth. He told everyone on campus that the girls called him K-9 because he was guaranteed to deliver nine orgasms in one night, but MeShack swore his name was K-9 due to the nine times he’d pissed himself during their initiation month.

“What can I do for King Cheetah’s main pound?” K-9 tipped his hat at me.

“I’m not his main pound, and we’re not together anymore.” I peeked inside the house. “Is he here?”

Please say he’s not here.

“It’s initiation night. Of course he’s here.” K-9 pushed the door wide open. “But first, what are the names of your beautiful lady friends?”

Oh, great.

“Well, this underage friend of mine on the left is named Illegal.” I pointed to Cassie. She grimaced at the gesture.

“Gotcha.” K-9 scooted away from Cassie and closer to Angel. “And your name, gorgeous?”

“Do you have beer and weed?” Angel asked, as if she hadn’t already lifted that bag of marijuana from Onyx’s room.

K-9 nodded. “I have lots of both.”

“Then my name is Angel.” She held out her hand and displayed a wide smile.

“This way, you sexy goddess.” K-9 grasped Angel’s hand and guided her to the kitchen area, ignoring Cassie and me.

“You two go ahead. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find King Cheetah myself,” I called out to K-9, glad that he was busy.

My actual reason for coming wasn’t to see MeShack. But reminding the brothers of my relationship with MeShack was the only way to get into the frat house without being molested and approached by every guy in sight. MeShack had made it clear that none of the brothers were to come near me for anything more than math tutoring or a friendly hello.

My real motivation for being here was the frat’s huge Pound Chart in the basement. Any girl that had sex with one of the brothers was represented on the Pound Chart in alphabetical order by their school identification picture. Every female was rated in different sections of the chart, from ability to noise level. Luckily, MeShack was too possessive of me to put my picture up and grade me.

“This is my first time in a fraternity house.” Cassie ogled every frat brother that went by.

“Good. Hopefully, it’s also your last. These guys are nothing but womanizers.” I led us through a crowded hallway overflowing with half-naked muscular men in different shades of jade green and dark brown.

The house had been donated to them by the Shifter Council since most of the members were frat brothers. The scents of beer, vomit, and marijuana made up the frat’s usual odor. Fake plastic grass served as the house’s carpet. Coffee-brown paint adorned every wall. Framed pictures of famous frat members hung on the walls next to posters of swimsuit models in barely-there bikinis. Hard-hitting heavy metal music blasted from the kitchen, making the windows quake with the screams of the lead singer whose voice battled with the wails of an electric guitar.

While Cassie and I wandered through the house, I noticed most of the fraternity brothers wore jade-and-brown cowboy hats with their fraternity nicknames taped to the fronts. I knew from many nights of hanging out at the frat house with MeShack that a brother would put his hat on the female he planned to have sex with. Any girl that had a cowboy hat on her head was off limits to the other brothers for that evening.

“Why do they all have on cowboy hats?” Cassie asked. “Is this party a western theme or something?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I squeezed by a frat brother and the girl he was making out with on my right.

“Well, I hope I can get one of those hats. They’re really groovy,” Cassie declared.

I halted and faced her. “If I see a hat on your pretty little head, I’m setting the hat’s owner on fire, and then I’m telling Zulu.”

“Yikes.” She flashed me a funny grin. “You must really hate cowboy hats.”

“They’re using the hats to mark who they’ll be having sex with tonight.”

Cassie covered her mouth with her hands. “Awesome! That tears the dopeness radar apart.”

“No, it’s not awesome, and nothing happens to the . . . dopeness radar.”

Freaking high school kids and their slang.

“So you really think MeShack knew Shelly?” Cassie’s cheeks turned rosy. “Shelly was homecoming queen at Maya Luna University every year until she graduated. My sisters hated her. She was so popular, and I bet you anything that MeShack probably knows everybody.”

I gave her a sidelong glance. “Why are you blushing?”

“We’re going to see
the
MeShack,” she exclaimed, patting her hair down. “I play his song
Celebration
in my car a hundred times every week. He’s so hot.”

“Great.” I clapped my hands together. “You’re a fan.”

We walked by two Shifters. They stood in front of each other. The dark brown one spotted me. “Hey Lanore, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Jungle.”

Jungle handed me a hundred dollars and snatched off his cowboy hat. “If I don’t get up, give the money to this sewer rat bastard.”

“Alrighty.” I rested my hands on my hips, clutching the bills in my right hand.

“Okay. Give me your best shot.” Jungle tilted his face forward.

The Shifter in front of him punched Jungle in the face. It made a loud popping sound. I flinched. Jungle’s head slammed into the wall, putting a dent in it. His body crashed into the green carpet, flattening the blades of plastic grass.

“Congratulations,” I muttered and gave the guy the money. “Let’s go, Cassie.”

She shook her head as she followed me. “What was that about?”

“That’s the punch game. They bet money, and then punch each other until someone becomes unconscious.” I twirled my hand in the air. “It’s a game of intelligence.”

“Now
that
destroys the dopeness radar and breaks it into tiny little pieces,” Cassie giggled.

I may have to set this freaking dopeness radar on fire by the end of tonight.

“You hang out here a lot?” Cassie asked.

“When MeShack and I were together.”

As we journeyed farther into the huge house, the heavy metal song changed to rap music, which boomed from the living room. I arrived at the basement door.

Cassie was no longer with me. My body tensed. My heartbeat increased with the rap music’s tempo as I frantically raced back and found her in a doorway with her mouth dripping drool. All of her attention was centered on two gigantic Shifters with their clothes off, wrestling in what was meant to be the dining room, but actually served as the frat’s fight area. The brothers liked to wrestle naked, so if they shifted, their clothes wouldn’t rip.

“Come on,” I insisted, straining as I tried to tow her along. Although Cassie appeared to be a slim teen, she had enough Shifter strength to keep her rooted to the floor no matter how hard I tried to pull or push.

“Can I just stay here . . . forever?” She sighed, cocking her head to the side as she peeked around the doorframe.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll just stay here, and you can come back and get me,” she suggested, bobbing her head to reassure me.

Cassie was too gorgeous. As soon as I left her alone, five brothers would swarm around her. And with the drinking and drugs, I doubted the guys would remember to ask Cassie what her age was. Then I would end up setting the whole frat house ablaze, and Zulu would descend upon the frat with obsidian wings, ripping hearts and flesh at will. I shook the images away.

Nope. She can’t stay here by herself.

“If you come with me now, you’ll get to meet MeShack,” I said. “I’ll also introduce you to these two guys wrestling.”

It took ten more minutes of begging until finally Cassie yanked out her camera, snapped a few pictures, and then reluctantly followed me.
Unbelievable.

We got back to the basement door with no further incident and headed down the steps. The whole staircase was enclosed in cedar walls with track and field plaques and campus awards nailed at the top.

I’d hung out down in the basement before and was always impressed with the size. The area was divided into three huge rooms complete with a wine cellar and small place to keep the Pound Chart. Being that most of the land in Florida was swampy, I wondered how the builders had put the massive basement under the house.
Maybe they did it with magic.

I could hear grunts and yells coming from deep within the basement, but we would have to turn the corner to see who was actually in there.

“Yes, big brother King Cheetah!” several guys yelled around the corner.

I paused on the steps.
Of all the places in the house, he had to be near the Pound Chart.
There would be no avoiding him now.

“Why are we stopping?” Cassie asked.

Before I could explain, MeShack called out, “You might as well come down, La La. I can smell you from over here.”

I dragged myself and Cassie down the rest of the steps, not sure what would happen next.

Is he still mad?
I rolled my eyes.
Probably.

MeShack and I had been fighting since we were nine, so I knew from experience that the rest of tonight’s scenario could go down two different paths. The first path would be for us to continue the argument from last night, which I was already tired of doing. The second path would be to pretend like everything was okay and bring our hurt feelings up during the next disagreement, which was bound to happen sooner or later. I was hoping for the second path as I arrived at the end of the stairs and rounded the corner.