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“I’m focused on the game against CU,” Levi answers. His years of media training come in handy now and then.
“Course you are.” The driver winks. “Shit. I never made the connection when I heard the Audley name. Mind if I get you to autograph something for my son?”
“Be happy to.”
“I’ll be right back.” The driver catches up to his assistant and the two proceed to whisper excitedly.
“I guess you aren’t going to do anything dumb, are you?” Tank says. He looks mildly disappointed.
“Don’t worry. I bet there will be a few stragglers who will need some encouragement.” I leave the movers in Levi’s hands and bound up the steps of the frat house. There’s no doorbell, so I tell Tank he can work out some of his aggression by banging the door down. It takes only one well-placed kick and the wooden door pops open.
I stroll in. A floppy-haired boy looks up from his pipe and shrieks.
“Hi there. Your president around?”
“Wh-what?” The boy tries to shove his pipe under his leg. It burns him and he jumps to his feet, slapping at his ass.
I rub my forehead. I guess I should’ve guessed these boys were dumb as shit given that they came after Olivia again. Most people would’ve taken one look at their brother’s fried balls and kept everyone away from our girl. Most people wouldn’t be smoking a hash pipe in the living room of their frat house in a state where that shit wasn’t legal.
“H-h-he’s sleeping.”
“Better wake him up.” I pretend to be interested in the room, kicking the baseboards and opening up cupboards. Tank heads for the kitchen where he claimed all the good stuff would be stored.
“You can’t do that,” the boy tells me.
I turn to face the kid, who is so thin a stiff breeze could snap him in two. I fold my arms across my chest and peer down my nose at him. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“Um, well, this is our house and you can’t just—”
“Lots of liquor in here along with some of whatever this is.” Tank holds up a baggie of white pills.
“Those are pain pills,” the boy cries. “It’s a legit prescription.”
“Where’s the bottle?”
“I d-d-dunno.”
“Good find, Tank.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy kick something under the sofa.
“Let’s see what else they have around here.” With a cock of my head, I motion Tank over to help me.
The boy wisely gets out of the way and disappears. As he loudly clambers up the stairs, Tank and I lift and move the sofa. On the floor lies a bunch of wrappers, an empty pizza box, a dead mouse and a box where we find weed along with other, harder paraphernalia. Tank takes it over to the table in the entry where he dropped the booze and pills.
They have a meeting room somewhere in this house. I bet there are more drugs there. Before I can find it, someone older stumbles down the stairs, pulling the lapels of a robe around his body.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to get out. This is private property.” He says this with authority. Some people probably listen to him. The guys hovering behind his shoulder are nodding emphatically.
“I know it is.” I pull the packet of papers out of my back pocket. “And I’m going to need you to be off my client’s property in the next hour. I know it’s short notice, which is why I’ve hired a moving van for you.” I point toward the front door, which is limply hanging off only one hinge.
“Your client? You must be mistaken. This is the Alpha Gamma house and I am the Alpha Gamma president. You will need to leave before I call the police.”
“Sure. Call the police, if it’s going to make you move faster. I’ll be sure to show them this.”
Tank steps to the side so the president can see the stash of illegal drugs we’ve gathered. “This is all we could locate in the first five minutes of being here, but once the police arrive, I bet they’ll do a better job than us.”
The president turns ghost white, but I’ll give him credit that he doesn’t turn tail and run immediately. Instead, he descends the stairs and stops about five feet from me.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to move out.” I shake the papers.
He rips them from my hand. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a deed of sale. See—” I run my finger along the top where the words “DEED OF SALE” are written in all caps and bold lettering.
“I can read that. What does that have to do with—” He cuts off as the words in front of him start registering. “Our building got sold?”
“That’s right. One Olivia Moore now owns it, and on her behalf, I’m here to inform you that it’s time to gather your tiny, limp dicks in your hand and get the hell off her property.” I really need to see about getting her last name marked with ours.
