A Billionaire in Disguise

“I was raised Baptist,” Rae shouted over the beeping, thumping dance music at the yellow-haired frat guy named Ames. He looked like a guy from Ames, Iowa: corn-fed and corn mash barrel-chested. His yellow, even teeth lined up like a corncob. She shouted, “So that means no drinking,” Ames refilled her red plastic cup with vodka and cold orange juice, “and no dancing,” she gestured with the cup at the sophomores gyrating between the pool tables and sloshed iced screwdriver on her knuckles, “and definitely no premarital sex.” Rae raised her cup toward Lizzy and Georgie, her dorm suitemates, who toasted her back from across the room hazy with stinking cigarette and pot smoke. The three girls had planned to stick together at the frat party because the Delta Chi house had a bad reputation. The two white girls were standing next to a black Delta Chi guy, and the girls were laughing hard. The Delta Chi guy was not laughing. His eyes grew startled-huge, like they had just shocked the hell out of him. Next to them, a frat guy and a coed were necking hard, and the guy’s hand groped under the woman’s tee shirt. A Golden Devil, the university’s mascot, was laminated on her shirt, and his fumbling made the Golden Devil look like it was popping and locking. “You still Baptist?” Ames asked Rae. “Hell, no. I am so through with all that ‘Thou shalt not’ shit. I so totally shalt do any shit that I want to.” She did, too. She drank, she had smoked a joint twice, she had danced naked on stage in the musical Hair last year, though her family sure as heck didn’t know about that, and she studied psychology even though Aunt TracyJo thought that Rae was going to Hell because psychology was just another Godless way to justify sin. Not that it mattered now. Rae drank more of the screwdriver. The orange juice, fruity and bitter in her mouth, tasted like it was turning to garbage. “That’s so cool!” Ames said, and Rae thought he might be even drunker than she was. Right now, even talking about religion and psychology and sex seemed like a good idea, so she must have a serious drunk going on. Her previous screwdrivers had been strong, and this one was, too. Good. Maybe she could forget why she had gone to a frat party on a Thursday night instead of studying, because studying didn’t matter anymore. Her eyes stung and teared up. Dang it. She wasn’t going to think about all that. She was here to party away the night. She sure as hell wasn’t going to cry any more. Rae swayed to the music, feeling the drums thump in her bones. “This is a great song.” “Sure is. You feeling okay?” Ames peered at her face closely, and his eyes and nose swam in and out of view. The people who were dancing wavered, and the couples making out around the edges of the room drifted like seaweed on the tide. “Sure, I’m fine,” she said. “Just drunk. I’m gonna get drunk off my ass tonight.” Midterm reports were due out next week, and she had a bad feeling about her statistics class. No, that wasn’t right. The dread wasn’t a random feeling. It was bad knowledge about a bad fact. Failing statistics meant she was going to be kicked out of college, and so she would go back to Pirtleville, and so died her chance for a degree, a chance for a better life, and her chance to build that secret dream of hers, the one that she only told people about when she was drunk. The beer-stained walls wove up and down, up and down, up and down. She watched the walls weave up and down. “That’s good,” Ames said. “You bet it’s good. S’good, it is. This screwdriver’s really strong.” “You want to go lie down or something? There’s a bedroom down this way.” He pointed down the dark hallway. “No. M’fine.” Rae felt fine. She didn’t care about anything anymore. Where were Lizzy and Georgie? Her arm lifted into the air, like it was flying on its own. “You look like you need to lie down,” Ames said. The walls rolled backward past her, and Rae wondered where Georgie and Lizzy were. “M’fine,” she said again. Rae knew that she should answer the frat guy’s question, but she couldn’t remember what he had asked. She couldn’t even remember his name. Lying down, Rae was lying down on something soft, and the bright light overhead was bright. The bright light was really bright, and something tugged at her waist and hips, like pants being pulled off. Bright. Bright white light. It was above her and it was bright and white. “You okay there, Rae?” she heard that corn guy ask. “You’re not going to puke, right?” “M’fine.” M’fine, m’fine m’fine. Bright light in the sky. Bright light went away. And soft went on her face. Bad smell like sweaty sheets. She was lying on her tummy. Her arms and legs were heavy and soft. “Hope you like anal,” Corn Boy said. Goopy stuff, on her butt. Hard thing. Nudged her butt. Soft, still on her face. Hands, too heavy to move. Hard thing again. Slam! Something slammed. “Yeeeeargh!” Really loud scream. Behind her. Sounded like that Corn Boy. Some girl said, “Wow. That Taser left a burn on his ass.” Room spun. Spun around her. And bright light was back above her. Bright light in the sky. Georgie and Lizzy. There they were. They were looking down at her. “Hi,” Rae said. “M’fine.” “Rae!” Georgie said. “What’s the matter with you?” Georgie’s brown hair reached out toward Rae like her hair was floating in water because she was a mermaid. Mermaids were cool. Lizzy said, “Looks like she got rufie’d.” Georgie looked away from Rae, and Georgie’s long, brown hair swung and swung in the air. Georgie said, “Rapist asshole. We should let The Dom have his ass. The Dom hates rapists.” Lizzy said, “Hey! The rapist asshole is trying to stand up!” “Tase him again. I’ll get her pants on, and we’ll get her out of here.” Crickle, crackle, sound of electric tackle. And Corn Boy screamed again.