Chapter 1

Philadelphia

Rand

The elevator doors parted and—

Whoa. A sea of nerds.

I took a step into the hotel lobby, dodging a flow of people, most at least a head shorter than me, sporting khakis, plaid shirts, Star Wars and Marvel T-shirts, glasses… Jesus, there was even a Darth Vader costume. They carried books, tablets, and every variety of super-tech phone invented, and all of them surged in one direction—exactly where I needed to go. To the final Quiz Bowl matchup between Harvard and U of W, Madison. My team. Well, sort of.

One guy in a blue knit beanie, who automatically made me tense because he reminded me of my least favorite person, sported a T-shirt that said, I could explain it to you, but I can’t understand it for you. He glanced up at me like I came from another planet. That about summed it up. Rand Charles, jock stranger in a strange geek land.

Taking a breath, I plunged into the flow of humans and let the river take me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand or appreciate intelligence. Hell, I hadn’t made Dean’s List and Summa Cum Laude on my looks, plus some of my fraternity brothers, the Alpha Lambda Alphas, were damned smart. It was just that we also happened to be athletic and didn’t wear our brains on the outside. In addition, we tended to hang out together. Did that mean I’d been living in a bubble? The immediate evidence suggested yes.

I scooted out of the crush and slid into the back door of the room where the finals were happening in time to hear somebody at a head table saying, “This mathematician names a homology sphere which results from +1 surgery on the right-handed trefoil knot.”

Holy crap. Total immersion.

I pressed back against the wall, squeezing between two guys clutching phones. The huge room was filled with people gripping their pens and gazing at the two teams seated at the tables up front as if they could transmit the answer to the question telepathically. As if getting it right would result in world peace and the salvation of baby seals.

My belly clenched with tension, which was clearly catching. Hell, I liked seals.

I caught my breath as Dobbs, the head of “my” team, slammed a hand on the buzzer and said, “Jules Henri Poincaré.”

An official at the head table said, “Correct.”

And I yelled with half the people in the room, “Yes!”

I didn’t know much about Quiz Bowl, but I did get that we just scored a point in a super-tight match in the finals. I clapped loudly. Even more important, I knew that winning this championship would not only fulfill the agreement of my fraternity with Dean Robberts to cooperate with our rivals, the Sigma Mu Taus, it would also mean we won the bet that half the school was invested in. The bet was that our two ALA frat brothers, who’d been placed on the Quiz Bowl team, were just as smart as the SMT nerds and would be able to help them win the finals. Booyah. Sweetest of all, it would also prove, once, for all, and evermore that Jax Johnson, president of the SMTs was a big-mouthed, untrustworthy Poindexter who thought he was god’s gift and couldn’t lead his fraternity to lunch.

Winning sounded damned good.

But we hadn’t won yet.

I focused on the four UW Madison guys at the table, three SMTs plus one awesome ALA jock, aka Jesse Knox, who I was there to support. Jesse was not only my fraternity brother, he was also my friend, to the extent that the super-private Jesse ever made close friends.

Of course, he had one other close friend now. Jesse’s arm snaked around Dobbs’s shoulders and gave a squeeze as the team leaned their heads together for what I was figuring out were the bonus questions. Other people watching might assume that Jesse’s gesture was just an “attaboy” from a teammate, but Jesse and Dobbs were newly minted boyfriends, lovers, sex slaves, whatever. It still surprised the shit out of me. Maybe it shouldn’t have since I was also gay, but those two seemed like such opposites. Honestly, though, not as different as another of my frat bros, Bubba, who was now dating one of Dobbs’s Sigma Mu Tau housemates, Sean. While I had to admit, the Poins had a certain brainy appeal, the trend was still highly disturbing.

Our team answered their first bonus question for ten points, and people around me said “Yes” and “Good” under their breath. It was something about the Republic of Imagination, which I’d heard of but couldn’t answer the question about.

Another bonus question. They got that one too. And then the third bonus question was up. I caught my breath. Getting this one right would put Madison ahead.

The moderator looked at a card. “Among the three American novels discussed in Nafisi’s The Republic of Imagination is this 1940 book, in which John Singer—”

Jesse hit his buzzer, then leaned in to the microphone. I felt my lips saying with him, “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.”

“Correct. Ten points.”

I fucking cheered. Seeing Jesse nail it in this brainiac company was damned sweet.

The score was now 90 to 60 with Madison ahead. The Madison supporters clustered on the right side of the room gave subdued claps and high fives, while the large group from Harvard on the left sent worried glances our way.

As I was looking over toward the Harvard side, a big guy in one of the front rows stood up and made his way to the aisle. I froze, my fist in midair.

Even in a sea of beanies, somehow I’d recognize that beanie instantly.

Sitting in front of the seat the guy had vacated was Jax Johnson—President of the Sigma Mu Taus aka the Poindexters, and the one dude among all humans destined to enrage me on sight, the arrogant, know-it-all, fake, flaming asshole. He’d just given his own fist pump and was knocking shoulders with another guy beside him. Heat filled my chest and I couldn’t help it. My fists clenched—like always. Damn the man. Damn. I should have expected him to be here, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

The Quiz Bowl game continued, but I couldn’t see it because I kept staring at the back of Jax’s head. Maybe the dude’s bald and he just has hair in the front attached to the beanie? Could be that’s why he always wears the hat. Just the thought made me laugh, but it sounded loud in the quiet room. The guy standing next to me gave me a look, and I crossed my arms over my chest to keep my heart from beating so hard.

I should leave, but no way I wanted to bail on Jesse. The team was huddled again so they must have won another toss-up.

Jax leaned over to the guy beside him and whispered something to him that made him laugh. I recognized the guy as belonging to SMT. I thought his name was Jorge. He had dark hair, was kind of chunky, had glasses, and the word “nerd” practically flashing on his forehead. Was he Jax’s boyfriend? Yeah, that’d be about right. Jax was a hipster type, and I knew all about them. They fucked anything that moved. The thought made me catch my breath.

Quit it, Rand. You’re obsessing.

I needed to get out of there, start driving to the flag finals. Somewhere, anywhere Jax wasn’t.

At that second, everybody in the room freaked, some cheering and others moaning. Since I’d lost track of the game, I looked at Jax and he was standing applauding like crazy. That had to mean Madison had just won this round, so I cheered, too, and added a piercing whistle for good measure. That did, however, mean I couldn’t leave Philadelphia yet. Madison was still in the game. No point coming to Quiz Bowl if I didn’t watch the final round.

Come on, Rand. Grow up. You can do this.

I pushed away from the wall and ran straight into PJ Roark. Along with Jesse, PJ was the other ALA human sacrifice that we’d put on the Quiz Bowl teams because Dean Robberts required two of our guys on Quiz Bowl and two of theirs on flag football. The dean thought that would end the decades-long feud between our houses. That, or we’d just kill each other and solve his problem.

PJ grabbed my arm. “We won the round! Now we’re tied with fucking Harvard to win the whole shebang, man. We’re on fire!”

“Yeah, it’s great.”

He pulled my arm. “Come on. We’ve got a little time for lunch. Right after that, the division-two team I’m on does its final, and then the final round for the div-one squad is the big finale. So we need to stuff our faces fast. It’s a long afternoon.” He laughed. PJ’s first priority was always stuffing his face.

We walked into the hall where people were rushing in every direction. As he hurried me along, I said, “You’re really into this Quiz Bowl stuff.”

PJ’s smile faded a little. “Well yeah. You work on something this hard, you figure you ought to marry it and have kids.”

I snorted and we walked into the hotel restaurant. PJ stared around, spied a waving hand in the back, and pulled me toward it. We walked up on a big round table packed with Poins plus Jesse and Bubba, of all people, and some other Madison students that had likely bought tickets from PJ back on campus and were there to see the outcome firsthand.

They’d left some empty chairs, and Jesse jumped up and pushed one out. “Rand, hi. Glad you came. Sit here, bro.”

“Thanks. You guys did great.” I looked around at all the Poins on the team. Awkward. Sitting on the other side of Jesse was Dobbs, the Poin that Jesse had fallen for while they practiced Quiz Bowl. No accounting for taste, although he was cute in a very Poiny way. Next to Dobbs sat Sean, the little redhead they called Hedgehog who played on our flag football team. Sean was a supposed genius, but somehow he’d gotten to the gooey, teddy-bear heart of giant Bubba Merkofsky, one of our key flag players, and the two were now an item too.

PJ had tucked in on the other side of the table between the weird dude who wore black leather and the uber nerd named Sai who always looked constipated. Both of them were on the team I’d just watched. I had to admit. They were damned good at Quiz Bowl.

Dobbs said, “There’s a buffet, and that’s probably the easiest way to fill up you bottomless pits in a short time, so everybody on the teams go grab a plate. The rest of you can do your own thing, but if you want to see div two, you probably need to buffet.” He took Jesse’s hand and marched toward the buffet line. All the rest of the guys at the table scraped back their chairs and followed.

I let them go first, since it didn’t matter if I got to division two a little late, plus I might bail on the whole thing, go back to my hotel room, and watch a movie. Hell, when did I ever have a chance to do that? As chapter president, living in the ALA house, I was almost never alone.

The buffet had a few too many things made with mayonnaise, but I managed to create a big green salad, add a few hard-boiled eggs for protein, concoct my own dressing from some olive oil, vinegar, and chunks of bleu cheese, and call it a meal. While the Poindexters paid for the Quiz Bowl teams, I paid for my own, walked back to the table, and stopped.

Where there had been an empty chair, Jax sat with a plate piled high with veggie pizza and salad, talking to Dobbs real seriously.

All I wanted was to turn and walk away, but how weird would that look, wandering around the restaurant carrying a plate with no place to sit. The whole place was packed with avid Quiz Bowl fans. Plus Jesse was smiling up at me, expecting me to sit down next to him—and directly opposite Jax. Great.

I sat.

Instantly, I gazed at Jesse. “Good job on that Heart is a Lonely Hunter question. I’m impressed with how you hung in there. Some of those questions, I didn’t even understand the words. Talk about specialized knowledge.” I laughed, viciously keeping my gaze fixed on Jesse. Not a hardship, since he was totally fine.

He smiled in that shy way he had. “Truthfully, I spent hours memorizing questions and answers with Dobbs.”

I must have raised my eyebrows because he barked a laugh. “I swear, that’s what we were doing—most of the time. The SMT guys have been participating in Quiz Bowl since grade school, so they’ve run across variations on so many kinds of questions. I just had to cram the best I could. I’ve learned a lot.”

I gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, man. Though I do take credit for being smart enough to assign you to the team.” I winked at him and looked across the table. “You, too, PJ.” Big mistake. Huge. Because looking across the table at PJ meant I was practically looking at Jax.

This close and head-on, I got that reaction I never liked to admit I had. One-half fury and one-half sizzling lust. I didn’t want to remember it, but there had been a time when the hipster-type with beard, beanie, and soulful eyes had done it for me down to the ground. But that was a long time ago, and now, seeing Jax’s smug, cooler-than-thou expression just made me want to smash his face.

Staring straight at me, he said, “Since I’d never be arrogant enough to imply I take any credit for the team’s exceptional brilliance, I’ll just say it’s obvious you all worked really hard. You should be proud of yourselves.”

As red crawled up my neck, Dobbs beamed. “Thanks, Jax. That means a lot to all of us.”

Jesse cast a quick side-eye in my direction. Yeah, he knew that the asshole had just thrown enough shade my way to prevent my tanning for a year. Whether anybody else got it, I couldn’t tell.

I dug deeply into my salad as Jesse and Dobbs and the other team members strategized for the afternoon sessions. It might as well have been bleu cheese-flavored plastic for all I tasted it, but I tried to raise my eyes as little as possible, because when I did, Jax wore a small, self-satisfied smile.

I could hit back. And normally, I would. But I was feeling a little outnumbered at the moment. Besides, I told myself the fucker wasn’t worth it. We were only a couple weeks from graduation, and then Jax Johnson would be a nonentity in my life.

After polishing off some desserts, the team gathered up their stuff to go to the division-two final. PJ was running off at the mouth he was so nervous. The SMT guys Jorge, Billings, and Johnson were also on the div-two team, and even they looked a little pale.

I let them get ahead of me but used their leaving as an excuse to bail. Jax stayed at the table sloshing down iced tea, and I had to go before I grabbed his glass and fucking drowned him in it.

As I followed the team through the hotel lobby, a voice called, “Rand! Hey, Rand Charles.”

I looked around and spied a bearded guy in glasses wearing a sports coat over jeans and holding a cell phone in front of him like he was videoing. He yelled, “Hey, Rand, what do you have to say about the charges that American Eagle poisoned the water in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, and injured two kids?”

People around me stopped and stared, like maybe I was a secret terrorist. I held up my hands. “Sorry. I’m a student. I’m not up on the latest developments with my father’s business.” But I sure as fuck was going to find out.

The same guy called, “But aren’t you planning to enter your father’s company when you graduate?”

“I’m going to graduate school next year. That’s all the comment I can give.” I headed straight for the front desk. The clerk looked up, and I said, “Do you have a newspaper?”

“Of course, Mr. Charles. I’ll send one to your room.”

“Thanks.”

Not even daring to look over my shoulder, my heart pounding in my ears, I toggled the elevator button and bolted into the first one that arrived. What the fuck has my father done now? I wanted to get some information before I called him. Scrolling through my phone wasn’t getting me far, but the guy with the newspaper arrived at my room at the same time I did.

“Thanks.” I tipped him and let myself in.

Except for financing extra beer and pizza for the frat, I almost never used my money, at least not conspicuously. But hell, if I got to stay in a nice room with a king-sized bed and view of the City Hall, by myself, after living with twelve guys all year, I’d gladly charge it to my considerable line of credit.

I kicked off my shoes and flopped on the bed with the paper. I sure as fuck didn’t have to search to find the story. Right on page one, above the fold.

Fracking Company Poisons Ground Water. Two Children Hospitalized.

I sighed long and slow and gripped the bridge of my nose. “Oh fuck, Dad.” Flopping back against the pillows, I picked up the phone and pressed send.

It rang twice, and then that familiar voice that was Tommy Lee Charles said, “Rand! My son actually calling me. Whatcha need?”

“I just saw the news. What the hell is going on, sir?”

He blew against the phone. “The Williamsport site was using excessive chemicals and leaked into the groundwater. We caught the chem imbalance and corrected it, but we didn’t know about the water issue.”

“Fuck, Dad. You’re supposed to be testing.”

He was quiet for a couple seconds too long, then said, “We did.” He sighed. “It didn’t get in the drinking water. The kids were in a swimming pool.”

“In April?”

“It was indoor. And the papers make it sound worse than it was. Goddamn bloodhounds. The kids won’t have any lasting damage or anything.”

Je-sus Christ. I forced my fingers to unclench. “Are you at the site now?”

“No, but I will be in the morning. Look, I’m taking care of this. Don’t worry about it.”

No way was I going to not worry about it. Not when reporters were dogging me in hotel lobbies—and when two kids were hurt. “I’m going to meet you there tomorrow. I’m in Philadelphia so it’s on my way.”

“What the hell are you doing in Philadelphia?”

“Fraternity business. I’ll see you at the site. And I hope you have one solid-gold remediation plan and a way to compensate the families.” As if anything could compensate for harming two kids. And what if they hadn’t been okay? What if it had been worse?

“I said don’t worry about it. The lawyers are lawyering. All a part of doing business. No big deal.”

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal to be a big deal. That’s the point. I’ve got one word for you.”

“Plastics?” He laughed at his play on the old line from The Graduate.

“Renewables. We’ve got to move on this, Dad.”

“Yeah well, fracking ain’t going anywhere in my lifetime, junior. And after that, you can worry about it.” He hung up.

I threw my phone across the bed. “Fuck that. I already am.” Frustration burned inside me. I had to find a way to get him to listen. And I would. After I completed my MBA, I’d be around him and the business all the time—enough to make myself heard.

My watch said I’d probably missed the second-division group, but I could still catch the big finale. It’d be nice to just lay back and watch TV for a while, but I’d come all this way to show support for Jesse and PJ, and I shouldn’t blow the chance. After all, they’d obviously worked their asses off for Quiz Bowl. In Jesse’s case, pretty literally.

Man, Jesse and Dobbs doing the deed.

Dobbs was openly gay.

Like Jax.

That thought made me shiver so hard, I grabbed my phone and hurried out the door.

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