Bishop (A Frat Chronicles Novel)

by B. T. Urruela

  Bra

  Bowl filled with weed or a joint

  A McDonald’s employee badge

  Homeless Hank’s dirty underwear

  Another fraternity’s letter

  2.Record one of you doing the following:

  Steal food from a restaurant

  Kiss a stranger

  Sing karaoke

  Drink a beer with Homeless Hank

  3.Take a selfie of the following:

  With a topless stripper

  From the top of Archie’s Tower

  With a mulleted man

  “Well, fuck. Where do we even start?” Mac asks as I hand the list over to him and take another pull of my cigarette.

  “We start with a cab,” I say, pulling out my phone and going to work on the screen. “Can you guys find a traffic cone in the time it takes me to grab my Wrangler?”

  “Yeah, shouldn’t be an issue,” Carter responds. “Could probably locate a car tire, too.”

  “And I’ve got the joint covered.” Mac laughs, his eyebrows dancing as he points to his pocket. “I’ve got a Crown Royal bag full of them.”

  “Well, fuck,” I say, motioning to his pocket. “Let me have one.”

  He frowns, letting out a heavy breath and reluctantly pulling the bag out. He opens it and grabs a fat joint, reluctantly handing it over.

  “I’ll get you back, Red,” I say, snatching it from him and smiling, slipping it behind my ear.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says, sulking. “Just know you’re taking a man’s medicine right now.”

  “Oh, fuck you.” I laugh.

  “I have glaucoma!” he reasons in a sincere voice then busts out laughing.

  I shake my head, waving Mac off as the cab pulls up beside us. “Alright, I’ll see you guys in a few. One of y’all give me your number, so I can text you when I get back.”

  Jeremy rattles off his number, and I punch it into my phone before I climb into the cab and it departs.

  After making my way back to my apartment and getting my Wrangler, I return to the frat house, smoking part of the joint along the way. As I pull up to the Delta Iota parking lot, I see my fellow pledges in a circle around a traffic cone with a ragged old car tire slipped over it. Mac spins a white lace bra on one finger and grips a lit joint with the other.

  “Where’d y’all find that?” I ask, hopping out of the Jeep and motioning toward the bra as I approach.

  “We ran into one of my exes,” Jeremy responds with a quick wink.

  “Must not have been a bad breakup, eh?”

  “Nah, it was a fuckin’ mess, man, but what can I say? I’m a smooth talker,” Jeremy responds, flashing his ghost white set of perfectly aligned teeth. It makes me wonder how a man who dips as much as he does can carry such an effervescent smile.

  “Good work!” I take the bra from Mac and inspect it, guessing it’s a D-cup, maybe even larger, though I have no clue really. “You sure it wasn’t a mistake lettin’ her go?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and tossing the bra at Jeremy’s face.

  Mid-catch, he replies, “Way more to a lady than her tits, my friend.”

  I laugh. “Way to make me feel like an asshole.”

  Jeremy shrugs. “I’ve been doin’ that to guys my whole damn life by just bein’ me, my friend.” He flashes a smile, gesturing toward the Jeep.

  “Well, let’s get a move on. I wanna get this shit done as soon as fuckin’ possible,” I say.

  “Where to first?” Mac asks, climbing into the Jeep after me. The others are close behind.

  “Liquor store,” I respond. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m doin’ this without a drink.”

  After grabbing a fifth of Jameson, we cruise down the main strip, which is alive with activity as the Friday night festivities pick up. I’ve traded seats with Mac, who now drives us as I nurse the bottle.

  “Let me get a draw on that,” Jeremy says from the back seat with gimme fingers.

  I pass it back and he snatches it from me quickly, tipping the bottle back and letting out a pleased sigh as he hands it over to Carter.

  “Thank ya kindly,” Jeremy says, swiping an arm across his lips. “So, what’s first?”

  I think for a moment. “Walgreens.”

  “What the hell we getting at Walgreens?” Mac asks.

  “A six-pack and hair clippers. And then y’all gotta tell me who the hell Homeless Hank is and where I can find him.”

  “Well, that’s easy,” Jeremy says. “He sets up right outside of Walgreens most days. It’s the only place they let him be for the most part.”

  “Well, that works out.”

  Arriving at the Walgreens parking lot a few moments later, Mac parks the car and I spot who must be Homeless Hank, seated against the building, just beside the entrance. He’s got a stringy gray beard, raggedy clothing with holes throughout, and dirt smudged on his face.

  “That our guy?” I ask as Mac switches off the engine.

  “That’d be him,” Jeremy responds.

  “Perfect. You guys let him know what we’re doin’ here, and I’ll grab what we need from the store.”

  “Oh, Hank knows what we’re up to. He’s been around these parts forever. And this isn’t his first scavenger hunt,” Carter responds.

  “Alright, well, start gettin’ your money together then, boys. I’ll be right back.” I exit the vehicle and enter the Walgreens as the others empty the Jeep behind me.

  A short while later, I leave the store with two large, overstuffed bags in my hands.

  “What the hell did you get?” Mac asks, eyeing them.

  “Enough shit to make me feel okay about all this,” I respond, my eyes shifting down toward Hank. I set the bags down and put out my hand toward him. “Hank, is it?”

  Hank examines my hand for a moment before taking it and giving it a quick shake.

  “That’d be me,” he responds in a gruff voice.

  I look back at the others behind me. “Got the money?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy says, digging in his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. “What’s it for?”

  I take it, inspect it with scrutiny, and then look back at them, rolling my eyes.

  “What the fuck is this? Twenty bucks?”

  “Twenty-four,” Mac corrects me.

  “That’s all you fuckers got?” I ask.

  Mac shrugs. “We’re college students.”

  I chuckle as I pull my wallet out and add two twenties to the pile. Returning my wallet, I look back toward Hank.

  “I’ve been told you know why we’re here?” I ask, not so much a question as it is a statement.

  Hank nods.

  I hand over the wad of cash, and after momentarily eyeing my hand with confusion, Hank snatches the bills from me and stuffs them into his pocket.

  “I don’t like any of this. It feels exploitative as fuck, but if we gotta do it, I wanna make it worth your while,” I say, rifling through one of the bags and pulling out a package of underwear, some t-shirts, and a bag of socks. “I’d like to trade you all of these for your underpants. The ones you’re wearin’ right now. Would that be okay?”

  Hank looks surprised and then nods.

  “There’s a bathroom inside. You can change in there once we’re done here. Does that work?”

  Hank nods again, grabbing the clothes from me and setting them to the side.

  I pull a six-pack out of the other bag and set it down on the concrete in front of him, saying, “I’d like to share a beer with you as well, and I’ll let you keep the rest for yourself. I hope Sierra Nevada is okay. I can’t drink the watered-down shit most everyone seems to enjoy in this country.”

  Hank cackles. “Beer is beer,” he reasons as I open a bottle and hand it over to him. I then slide my back down the side of the building, seating myself next to him and opening a beer of my own. I tilt it in Hank’s direction.

  “Cheers,” I say, and he clinks his bottle against mine before we both tilt them back.

  Lowering his bot
tle, Hank eyes the beer label and looks over at me with bewildered eyes as he smacks his lips with pleasure. “Fuck, that’s good!” he says, taking another big gulp.

  “I know. A lot better than Bud, I’ll tell you that much,” I say, laughing. “I just have one more request, or two more, I guess, and then we’ll leave you be. For your efforts”—I grab the bag that held the clothes and hand it over—“There are a few cans of SpaghettiOs and soup in here. There’s soap, toothpaste, and a toothbrush in there, as well.”

  Hank takes the bag with his free hand, peeks inside for a moment, and then sets the bag on top of the clothes.

  “What do you need?” Hank asks. “A picture, right? What else?”

  I hesitate, pulling clippers and double-A batteries from the bag that was holding the six-pack. I remove both from their packaging and set them in my lap, tossing the trash to the side. My pledge brothers look at me with brows scrunched in confusion. I take a long pull from my beer, setting the bottle on the ground beside me and letting out a sigh of contentment.

  “If it’d be alright with you, I’d like to shave your head. Into a mullet first, and then after we get a picture, I can shave the rest. Would that be okay?”

  Hank nods. “Shit yeah, I could use a haircut. Do we gotta shave it all the way after though? It’s cold as my ex-wife’s heart out here.”

  I laugh. “You alright keepin’ the mullet?”

  “Yeah, who the hell am I tryin’ to impress?” he reasons.

  “True. Well, much obliged, my friend. We appreciate you puttin’ up with this shit.”

  “Don’t even mention it. Other people ain’t been so nice about it,” he responds, taking a drink of his beer. He lets out a pleased sigh, adding, “Well, let’s get ’er done, yeah?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Once I shave Hank’s hair into a mullet and take the selfie we need, I send him inside with his new clothes in hand. He brings the toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap with him.

  “Mac,” I say, as I pick up the loose hair and trash from the ground to toss in the garbage can. A smirk builds on my face. “Can you go in after him?”

  “Sure, but why?”

  After disposing of the hair and trash, I grab the empty bag from the ground and hand it over to him. I shake it vigorously for him to take.

  He inspects it for a moment without moving, and then his face goes white—even whiter than his already ghost-like complexion—as he realizes what I want him to do with the bag.

  “Fucking hell, guys. Why does this fall on me?” he asks, a bit of a whine to his tone.

  “You’re the youngest one here, no?” I ask, an eyebrow quirked.

  Mac lets out a heavy breath.

  “Twenty here,” Jeremy says, raising a hand. “Twenty-one in six months.”

  “I’m nineteen,” Carter adds, his head rolling over toward Mac who just pouts.

  I look at Mac, too, and though I already know his answer, with a smile I ask, “Well, how about you, Red?

  “Eighteen, whatever. I’ll do it, fuckers,” he says. Snatching the bag from me, he adds, “If I catch something, though, I’m spreading it to you ass-cancers.”

  “Can’t catch something you already have,” Carter jests as Mac makes his way inside, holding up a middle finger with his free hand as the automatic doors close behind him.

  A few moments later, with bagged dirty underwear pinched between two fingers and as far from his body as his arm will allow, Mac makes his way outside. A much-cleaner looking Hank comes out a few moments after him. Mac tosses the tied bag at my feet and crosses his arms with a frown on his face that just gets a laugh out of the rest of us.

  Hank plops down where he sat before, picking his beer back up and lifting it toward me. “Well, thanks, fellas.”

  “Thank you, Hank. I’ll see you around, eh?” I say, motioning for Mac to unlock my Jeep as I retrieve the bag from the ground.

  “You know where to find me,” Hank says with a wink, and I pass him a two-finger salute, making my way toward the Jeep with the others.

  As we climb inside and shut the doors behind us, Mac says, “Smart thinking, killing two birds with one stone.”

  “Fuckin’ brilliance,” Jeremy adds.

  “Work smarter, not harder, gentlemen. The Army taught me that,” I say, smiling, then fling the bagged underwear toward Mac in the driver’s seat.

  “Fuck, man!” Mac screeches, batting the bag away like a cat attacking a stringed toy dangling in its face. “This is some messed up shit.” His voice cracks as he backs away from the bag even more. “I get driving duties and dirty underwear duty? That’s not fucking cool!”

  “Life’s not fair, my friend,” I joke. “I was nineteen in the Army once, remember. Shit rolls downhill. That’s just how it is. But”—I pick the bag back up as Mac cowers away from it—“you make a good point.” I throw the bag back toward Carter. “Since he’s driving, Carter, you’re next in line for underwear duty.”

  Carter tosses the bag behind the back seat and shrugs. “I promise not to cry like Mac did.”

  “I’m not crying. There’s just something in both my eyes.” Mac laughs, pulling the Wrangler out of the parking spot. “Where to next, Prez?” he asks me.

  “McDonald’s,” I respond, garnering questioning glances from my pledge brothers, but I simply point toward the golden arches a short distance down the road.

  Pulling into the lot, Mac parks the Jeep, and then I glance back at the others. “Alright, guys, this is gonna be more of the same. I wanna knock multiple items out at once. It’s gonna be pretty fucked up though, unless we can do it right,” I say, lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, cracking my window just a bit. “I don’t wanna go ruining any McDonald’s employee’s night, and definitely don’t want to get caught up with the cops over a fuckin’ hamburger.”

  “So, what is it we’re actually doing?” Carter asks.

  “Mac, you’re gonna record.” I look out the windshield and through the plate glass windows that cover the front of the McDonald’s. “I’ll distract the one on the left there. Gonna offer her twenty bucks for her name tag. Carter, you and Jeremy will be waitin’ in line, like normal customers. When I clear my throat, I want you two to start pretend fightin’. Make it as realistic as possible, though. I want them freaking the fuck out. During the commotion, I’ll sneak in and grab one of those burgers from the warming tray. Then we get our asses on out.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” Carter says, his tone dipped in sarcasm.

  “You got any better ideas?” I ask, and he shrugs.

  “I got nothing,” he responds. “Better than dining and dashing like I was thinking. But why do we need to distract them? Can’t we just take it?”

  “I’d rather not be seen doin’ it if I’m able to. No way to do that if those employees are standin’ right there.”

  Carter nods. “Alright, then. Let’s do it.”

  I lead them out of the Jeep, tossing my cigarette into the ashtray beside the door before making my way inside.

  After chatting with one of the employees for a moment, I watch Jeremy and Carter come through the doors and get in line from the corner of my eye. I turn back fully for a brief moment and see Mac follow in after them, walking right to an empty table and taking a seat. He pulls the phone out of his pocket when I turn back toward the employee.

  “So, twenty bucks will do it?”

  She nods her head. “No sweat off my back. Only costs me five to replace.” She removes the tag from her uniform top and hands it over.

  I swap her with the twenty and pocket the name tag.

  “Much obliged,” I say, clearing my throat loudly. “Thanks, Alesha.”

  “No problem, darlin’.” She smiles, and I smile back before my eyes flit over to my buddies in line. Alesha looks too.

  Carter eyes the menu board, pretending to figure out what he wants to order when Jeremy groans, “Fuckin’ hell, boy. Could you take any fuckin’ longer to make up your goddamn mind? Are you ha
vin’ reading problems up there or something? I’m fuckin’ starving!”

  Carter looks back, fighting a smile from forming. “Screw you, redneck,” he snarls. “Go fuck your sister or something.”

  “That’s old damn news, kid. I’m too busy fuckin’ yours these days,” Jeremy grunts.

  Carter’s jaw drops, and he responds with a stiff push, shouting, “My sister would never touch an inbred like you!” His lips quiver, the laughter desperate to escape. “She’s got standards.”

  Jeremy shoves Carter back against the counter. “If, by standards, you mean my sweaty balls in her eager fuckin’ mouth, then yeah, I guess she’s got them in spades.”

  “Can y’all please settle down?” Alesha asks, letting out a heavy sigh.

  It’s too late.

  Carter charges forward, tackling Jeremy to the ground, and begins punching him in the side. They look like real punches, and hell, maybe they are.

  “Eat my dick, Deliverance! I will fuck your soul!” Carter yells, and the two employees meet them on the other side of the counter, trying their best to break it up with interjecting hands. A few other employees from the back crane their necks to catch the action as I glance back toward Mac. He’s getting the whole thing on video while laughing his ass off.

  I turn and slink through the opening in the counter, the cook’s eyes moving toward me as I grab a Big Mac from the food warmer. He shrugs, and I shrug too as I nonchalantly walk with it back to the other side. Mac is upright now, camera held high, and I abruptly toss the Big Mac toward him. Surprised by the throw, Mac stumbles a bit as he barely catches the box. Once he recovers, he runs toward the exit with it, carrying the phone in his other hand as he records his escape.

  As he reaches the door, he looks back and holds the Big Mac box high above his head as if it’s a title belt, all eyes on him now as he yells, “Attica, man! Attica!” There’s a touch of crazy in his eyes, his hair splayed out in all directions, as he runs out the door, and it garners uproarious laughter from my gut.

  Jeremy and Carter cease fighting, and they burst out in laughter too, separating from each other but remaining on the floor.