Bishop (A Frat Chronicles Novel)

by B. T. Urruela

  She frowns, her arms crossing.

  “Who am I to judge myself?” I say, trying to keep the peace, softening my features and hoping my words didn’t hit too hard. “I don’t know where I’m headed. I don’t know where I should be. I follow my heart. Wherever it takes me, I follow it. What else am I gonna do?”

  “Maybe acting is your thing. Maybe it isn’t. But I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be around this drinking culture. Not if it’s something you struggle with.”

  “So, maybe I head to LA and struggle to become an actor. Get addicted to cocaine and sell my body for sex to pay rent.” I laugh, but her expression remains unchanged.

  “I never said going to Hollywood and trying to become an actor was your thing, but maybe it is. Maybe you find something else you love more, but being in a fraternity, in that sort of environment, it’s not good for you. I’m certain of that.”

  I shrug again. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. We’ll see.”

  “Well, you need to keep yourself out of trouble these next few months. You know that at least, right?”

  “I do. And I will. I just have another month of this pledgin’ shit. Another month, and I’ll figure out where I go from here.”

  “Another two months you spend in that chair right there, talking shit out with me. Another two months you spend away from the drugs, and away from the bottle,” she says matter-of-factly, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Seven weeks, Carleigh. And language, please.” I smirk, giving her a wink.

  She lets out a heavy sigh, saying, “I have a feeling this’ll be a long seven weeks.”

  A laugh breaks free from my lips. “Oh Doc, you got no idea.”

  IT’S BEEN A HELL OF a week. Yesterday was my first appointment. I went straight from there to class, and from there, I went to the DIK house for study session and to clean. After that, we had the joy of picking up bits of confetti and separating them into colors, six in all. Considering the basement was filled with the confetti, so much so that the concrete floor could barely be seen, it was around midnight when we finally finished. I slept like shit and then had a long day of classes, so the social tonight is just about the last thing in the world I want to do. Unfortunately, for me, all socials are a requirement for pledges, mostly so we can play ‘clean up after the pigs’.

  At the social this week, one without another fraternity involved, thanks to a stern talking to Trevor had with Brady, we are all dressed in early 90s fashion—acid wash jeans, parachute pants, and side ponies aplenty. I settled on AC Slater; I’m wearing a curly black wig and a short-sleeve button up with a ludicrous pattern, the sleeves rolled as required.

  I can’t help but look for Ember, wanting to see her even if it’s just so I can apologize. I’ve texted more times than I should’ve, still with no response.

  The social is in the DIK basement this week, a byproduct of my previous actions, not that any of us mind. Most of these guys get to stumble up the stairs to their rooms, some to fuck their revolving girl, others jerking off to MILF and BBW porn. The younger brothers have the benefit of an active cab system and close proximity to the dorms and apartments. It’s a win-win.

  I tilt my head toward Mac, who’s dressed as Urkel. “You think she’ll show?”

  He shrugs. “Give it time, dude.”

  “Where’s your girl?”

  “Studying for tests.” He frowns. “She’s on her period anyway.”

  “Jerkin’ it to internet porn tonight then?” I ask.

  “Or working for a blow job.”

  “Good luck, bro,” I say doubtingly.

  “I have my ways.”

  “A forceful hand?”

  “Study stress relief.” He wriggles his brows and it brings a laugh out of me.

  “Hard sell.”

  “We’ll see.” He takes a drink of his beer. I motion mine toward the couch where a few of the brothers sit.

  “You see who Brady’s with?”

  Mac chuckles. “Yeah, chick looks almost unconscious.”

  “For real. And he’s still all up on her. What the fuck is he thinkin’?”

  “Wait.” Mac points, studying them. “Her eyes are open. A little bit.”

  “Well, she’s obviously trashed.”

  “She is grabbing at his dick,” he argues, and I see she is, in fact, cupping his testicles at the moment, but she doesn’t look to be even aware her hand’s there.

  Or am I seein’ things? If it weren’t Brady, would I see things the same way?

  “I still don’t like it,” I mutter.

  Mac sets a hand to my shoulder as Carter and Jeremy approach with fresh beers.

  “You don’t want to find yourself in anymore trouble,” Mac reminds me.

  “What’re y’all talkin’ about?” Jeremy asks, and I wave him off.

  “Nothin’. Just bullshit.” My eyes remain locked on Brady.

  “You okay, Bish?” Carter asks, and my eyes trail to his.

  “I don’t like what I’m seein’ over there.” I motion my head toward the couch, and they both look.

  “I ain’t ever seen him with her before,” Jeremy says, turning back around and shrugging.

  “Neither have I,” I agree. “Where’d she come from?”

  “Beats me,” Jeremy responds. “I didn’t see her with him earlier.” His eyes fall on me. “Bro, ya need to stay outta trouble.”

  “That’s what I was saying,” Mac adds, and I shoot him a glare.

  “I understand the predicament I’m in. I experienced it already yesterday, having to spill my damn guts to a stranger. It don’t mean I’m gonna let a woman be raped.”

  “Whoa!” Mac’s mouth goes wide, his eyes flitting around the room as he puts two hands up. “Watch the r-word, man. I don’t think that’s what’s going on over there.”

  “No?” I scrutinize him with my eyes. “What do you call fuckin’ an unconscious woman?”

  “He’s not fucking her,” Mac responds.

  “Yet,” I hiss.

  “And she ain’t unconscious … much,” Jeremy adds.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Y’all gotta lot to learn about the real world and how a real man operates. I’ll tell ya that much.”

  “You’ve never fucked a drunk chick before?” Mac asks.

  “A drunk chick while I was drunk too? Yeah. A drunk chick who can barely keep her eyes open and is borderline unconscious? No, bro. Not a fuckin’ chance. I grew up with morales. Obviously, you fuckers weren’t.”

  “I think they’re just worried about keeping you out of trouble. Shit’s been going around about Brady and his feelings about you,” Carter says, playing devil’s advocate, much to my dismay.

  “I think y’all need to stop worryin’ about me and start worryin’ about what you’re willin’ to look past,” I respond, shaking my head.

  A brief awkward silence passes between us as I sip my beer and continue watching Brady and the girl on the couch intently.

  “How about we get out of here and smoke a J?” Mac asks, breaking the silence. He pulls his Crown Royal bag of joints from his pocket, his brows wriggling.

  “Temptin’,” I respond, eyeing the joint as he removes it from the velvet bag, desire sweeping over me as I look back over to the couch. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere until I make sure fuckface behaves himself. And you know I can’t be smokin’ durin’ this counselin’ anyhow.”

  “C’mon, Bishop. We’ve got one month left,” Mac pleads. “One month and we’re made men. Can’t you just keep out of trouble until then?”

  I point to Brady. “That motherfucker’s the only one who’s gotta be worried about trouble findin’ him tonight. I’ll be alright, gentlemen. I have a habit of gettin’ outta shit.”

  “And a habit of runnin’ into it a time or two as of late, my friend,” Jeremy adds, chuckling. “I’ve seen the blood to prove it.”

  I smirk, tilting my head and arching an eyebrow. “And what repercussions came out of those two scenarios? A few the
rapy sessions?” I shrug. “Fuck it. Bring ’em on. It ain’t gonna dictate how I operate. Never will.”

  “Alright, man. Alright,” Mac says. “Well, I’m going out to the porch to smoke, for whoever wants to join me.”

  As Mac turns to head toward the steps, Jeremy shrugs. “That’d be me, fellas. I’ll see y’all in a few.” He throws up a peace sign and follows behind Mac.

  I look over at Carter with an eyebrow cocked. “Well, you goin’ with ’em?”

  Carter shakes his head. “Somebody has to watch your ass.”

  “Ain’t nobody gotta watch my ass. Especially not some guys about half my age.”

  His lip curls back. “I’d like to think we’re your friends first. And we aren’t trying to fuck with you here. Just trying to watch your back.”

  I put my hands up in retreat. “Alright, alright, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. Just don’t like bein’ told what to do.”

  “Shit, I’m definitely not trying to tell you what to do. Just throwing out suggestions. Take them or leave them.”

  As he says this, I spot Brady helping the girl to her feet. Her body is slack, her shoulders and head slumped, and he has to stabilize her with his own body as he helps her along in slow steps toward the stairs.

  I jab a finger toward them. “See! I fuckin’ told you, dude.”

  I start to follow them, but Carter grabs my shoulder. “Bro, are you sure about this?” There are wrinkles of concern in his forehead, his worried eyes flitting from me, to Brady, and back. “You may not make it through pledging if something were to happen.”

  I shrug. “So be it. I couldn’t give a fuck a about pledging.” As I try and turn, he tightens his hand on my shoulder.

  “Maybe he’s just putting her to bed, man. Maybe they’re dating or something.”

  “I ain’t ever seen her here before, man. Jeremy said so too. And he was just gropin’ her like they were shootin’ a fuckin’ porno. If he’s not takin’ her up there to fuck, I’ll give you my Jeep.”

  “Tempting offer, but seriously, what are you going to do, bust his door down?”

  “I’ll knock and see what’s up.”

  “And if he doesn’t answer?”

  I look back and see Brady and the girl are gone now. “Damn it, Carter. He’s probably already up there fuckin’ her.”

  “So what if he is, Bishop? C’mon, man. Let’s go smoke with Mac and Jeremy.”

  I tug my shoulder away from Carter’s hand and shake my head. “Carter, if you don’t see a problem here, I don’t know how to help you. I can’t sit idly by and watch this shit go down. Go outside with the guys. I’ll be fine,” I say, turning and making my way to the stairs that lead to the brothers’ rooms.

  I stride up the steps, two by two. Reaching the top, I charge down the hallway toward Brady’s door. A few of the rooms’ doors are open and music blares from one of them. Once I reach Brady’s door and turn, I notice some heads peeking out from down the hall.

  “Brady just bring a girl in here?” I ask, pointing toward his door, and one of them nods.

  I knock on the door hard.

  No response.

  I knock again, harder this time, my foot bobbing relentlessly, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

  “What do you want?” a faint voice calls out from the other side.

  “Brady, it’s Bishop,” I yell. “I need you to open this fuckin’ door.”

  As I hear grumbling on the other side of the door, I notice more heads peeking out now, and a few of the brothers standing out in the hall. At the end of the hallway, I see Carter standing at the top of the steps, a worried expression on his face.

  “Brady?” I repeat.

  “Fuck off, man,” he responds.

  Knocking again, I say, “Brady, you need to open this door right fuckin’ now, or I’ll break it the fuck down.”

  “Fuck off!” he repeats, and I scoff, taking a step back and shaking my head. I then heave a boot into the door with a loud thud.

  “Bro, what the fuck?” a voice calls out down the hall.

  I don’t respond.

  “What’s that pledge doing?” another one asks.

  Abruptly, Brady’s door opens a crack, and he glares at me from the other side, his face beet red.

  “Are you fucking deaf, pledge? I said fuck off.”

  “Oh, I heard you. I just don’t give a fuck what comes out of your mouth, other than tellin’ me whether that girl is in there or not.”

  “What girl?”

  “You know exactly what girl. The one who was pretty much passed out while you were gropin’ her.”

  “Oh, fuck off. Get the fuck away from my room, pledge,” he says, trying to shut the door, but I put a shoulder into it, surprising him and muscling the door open.

  He looks at me, his face scrunched in both confusion and anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he barks, shoving me back against the wall as my eyes take in the girl, lying there, braless, panties mid-thigh, her eyes completely closed, a little vomit on the mattress beside her lips.

  My wide eyes trail from her to him as he has my shirt balled up in each fist, his face just inches from my own. Squatting a little, I charge forward, throwing my palms into his chest and shoving him down hard onto the floor. He lands and the air drains out of him. He takes a deep breath, looking up at me now with wild eyes. There’s commotion from the hall behind me.

  “No. Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, bitch?” I jab a finger toward the girl passed out on his bed. “How old is she, eighteen? Nineteen years old? She’s passed the fuck out, dude, and you’re gonna fuckin’ rape her?”

  He looks over at her, and the anger in his face dissipates. “S-she was awake a second ago, dude.” He sits up. “Rape? What the fuck are you talking about? Get the fuck out of here.”

  As he slowly rises to his feet, I respond, “Not without her, scumbag,” as I make my way to her side. I pull her panties up and set her legs straight on the bed, careful not to lay her in the throw-up.

  “Oh, fuck you, you judgmental prick. Who are you to come into my fucking room?”

  The door opens behind me, drawing my attention, Trevor poking his head in. “What’s going on in here?” he asks, looking around as he opens the door wider. There are about twenty brothers behind him, eavesdropping. Carter’s one of them.

  “This motherfucker is tryin’ to rape this chick and I’m gettin’ her the fuck outta here,” I say as I take a knee near her still body and collect her clothes off the floor. Setting them on the bed, I put two fingers to her neck. There’s a steady beat.

  “Fuck you!” Brady roars, and his incoming steps draw my attention. He stops just in front of me, the vein in his neck bulging, his muscles flexing, hands clenched in tight fists.

  “Brady, calm down,” Trevor says, stepping forward and putting a hand out.

  I turn back toward the girl and begin putting her clothes on.

  “Bishop, what are you doing in his room to begin with?” Trevor asks as I wipe a little vomit away from her cheek with Brady’s bedspread.

  “Yeah!” Brady adds, jabbing a finger at me.

  I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the girl as I figure out the best way to get her out of here.

  “Fuckstick here decided to take a nearly unconscious girl up to his room to fuck her, and I didn’t let him. That’s what I’m doin’ in his fuckin’ room.”

  “She wasn’t unconscious, bro. Not when we were hooking up. When she got sick I just laid her in bed so she could get some sleep. That’s what I was doing when he fucking burst in here.”

  I glance back at him with a sneer, shaking my head. “Give me a fuckin’ break. When I got to the room, her underwear was half off. She was literally lyin’ on the edge of your bed in the missionary position, you fuck.”

  “Bullshit. This motherfucker has had it out for me since day one. He’s just making shit up to try and get me in trouble,” Brady says.

  “Yeah, I guess I put the throw-up there too, huh? You�
��re a fuckin’ idiot. I haven’t been the one with a chip on my shoulder. I couldn’t give two fucks about you, Brady. All I care about is gettin’ this girl home and out of the room of a fuckin’ rapist.”

  Brady charges forward, soccer kicking my stomach.

  He hits me square, but I’m able to absorb most of the force with my arm. It stings like fuck, but I take a deep breath and stand, clenching my teeth against the pain. Trevor has two hands on Brady’s shoulders now, pulling him back.

  I take another deep breath, forcing a grin. “That one you get for free, Brady. But understand this. The next time you put your hands or your feet on me, I will fuckin’ end you. That ain’t a threat. Never has been in my life, never will be. It’s a fuckin’ promise. I will make you feel a whole fuckin’ world of pain, boy.”

  I turn back around, looking for the girl’s purse. Spotting it at the end of the bed, I take a seat and go through it, looking for her phone, but keeping Brady in my peripheral.

  “Bishop, you really shouldn’t be in here,” Trevor says as I locate her wallet first.

  “About two more seconds and I won’t be.” I open her wallet, reading her ID. I look back up at Brady with a snarl on my face. “Yeah, eighteen, like I thought, you sick fuck.”

  Brady scoffs as I toss the wallet back in her purse and pick up her phone. The screen is filled with text and call notifications. Dozens of them. Pulling up her text messages, I see twelve unread from a contact titled, ‘Bestie.’

  Hey April, where did you go? We’re ready to leave.

  Ape, I’m getting worried. Text meeeeeee.

  Seriously, I will call the cops.

  What the fuck?! April … CALL ME NOW!

  April?!?! Please!

  “Bishop.” Trevor’s voice rings throughout the quiet room.

  I pull up ‘Bestie’s’ contact information and press call, lifting the phone to my ear.

  “What the fuck is he doing?” Brady scoffs, raising his palms into the air. “Trevor, get this stupid fucking pledge out of here.”

  “April?!” a concerned voice comes over the line. “April, are you okay?”

  “Hey, this ain’t April, but she’s with me at the DIK house. I was tryin’ to get her home.”