“Why, hello, Tilly!” Brad Carroll said in his careful voice. “Hi, Rod. I didn’t know you two were acquainted. Rod, we decided this was the day to take you up on your standing invite.”
“Hello, Brad,” Tilly said, “And Bill. I met Rod in our writing class. The guy is persuasive.”
“We’ve noticed that,” Bill said. “Tilly, you’re looking wonderful.”
“Thank you,” she said gravely.
There was a moment of awkwardness. I said, “The bar is the kitchen shelf, mates. Select your venom and some for us. Till’s is rum and coke and I’m on bourbon and water if you feel industrious. You can change in the bedroom.”
They went inside. Tilly reached over and touched my arm. “Joe, darling. This is going to give them a very choice bit of gossip.”
“Do you really care?”
“Uh uh.”
“That’s my girl.”
They came back out bearing drinks. Bill clowned it his towel over his arm like a waiter’s napkin. He bowed low as he handed Tilly her drink, murmuring, “Madame.” In trunks he was deeply tanned, whip-lean, with long smooth muscles. Brad was whiter, softer, thickening a bit in the waist, with a small roll of fat over the top of his yellow trunks.
Bill sat on the edge of the terrace turned toward us, with one eyebrow still high enough to give him a knowing look. Brad said, “We didn’t do this right. We should have come armed with charming blondes and a couple of jugs to salve our conscience. We thought you hadn’t had time yet to live dangerously, Rod.”
“I keep telling you that we’re underestimating the guy,” Bill said.
“Where’s Al Siminik, Brad?” I asked. It seemed odd to see Brad without his shadow.
“By the time we see him again, we’ll have forgotten what he looks like. He’s earning his keep, throwing his muscles around,” Bill answered.
I eyed Bill. “What’s your sport, Armand?”
He laughed. “Molly.”
Tilly bristled. “That isn’t a nice thing to say, Bill?”
“Protecting your sisters?” he jeered.
I was amazed at how cold Tilly’s gray eyes could get. “The only thing I have against Molly is that she’s stupid enough to find you attractive, Bill Armand.”
He held up his hands in mock defense and ducked his head. “Hey! Take it easy.”
Talk became more casual. After a while Bill drove to the main road and phoned Molly. He came back and said that Brad’s girl, Laura, was coming out and bringing Molly with her. Shortly after that, Bill and Tilly went in for a swim. Brad moved over into the chair where Tilly had been.
His smile was very engaging. “Rod, you strike me as being a pretty canny guy.”
“Oh, thank you, sir.”
“No gag, Rod. I mean it. You’re smart enough to see how things stand at the chapter. Arthur is one of the best friends I’ve got.” He was working the knife out of the sheath very slowly and I knew why he’d decided to come out. Carroll, the tireless politician.
“But...” I said.
He gave me a quick look. “Oh, you see it too?”
“Better tell me what you see, Brad.”
“I’ll be frank. I wouldn’t want this to go any further. I see a sweet guy who completely lacks the executive touch. He’s too heavy-handed. Now take Harv Lorr. There was a great president. We used to have a penny-ante poker game going on weekends in his room. Will Arthur go for that? Not for a minute. It says in the book no gambling in the house. The boys resent that rule-book attitude, Rod. But a lot of the fellows figure it this way. They say that Arthur was elected and he’ll graduate in June, so why not play along with him.”
“And what do you say?”
“I say that this is a whole year out of our lives. Why let Arthur make it a poor fraternity year? Every member has a vote. Right now, because of some people’s sense of duty, Arthur swings the majority. But if the rest of us who don’t quite agree with some of his measures could consolidate our vote, we could do just about any thing we pleased.”
“In other words, let Arthur have the title and let you have the real push.”
“I didn’t say that!” he said in a hurt tone.
“Doesn’t it amount to the same thing?” I asked disarmingly.
He pretended to think it over. “Well, it would be one way to put it, Rod.”
“Let’s get it out in the open. You want me to vote with you.”
“Only if you sincerely believe that it’s the thing to do.”
“Let’s take the gloves off, Brad,” I said. “I’m a transfer. I’m a senior. I’m not living in the house. As I see it, there’s no reason for me to get messed up in local chapter politics. With either you or Arthur running things, the food is going to be good, the lounge is going to be comfortable, the dances are going to be fun. I don’t care about anything else.”
“That,” he said firmly, “is what I consider an irresponsible and selfish attitude.”
“Consider it anything you want to.”
“Then I may take it that you’ll vote with Arthur?”
I saw I had hurt his feelings. Or at least he had decided that should be his attitude. “You may take it this way. I’m not for you or again you. When I attend chapter meetings I’ll refrain from voting. Then you won’t have to worry about a counterbalancing vote.”
His smile was full of satisfaction. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Frankly, a lot of the younger boys would be willing to follow; your lead in preference to mine, even. You’ve made quite an impression, Arlin. Quite an impression.”
“Do you want some advice?”
“What do you mean?”
“Take it or leave it. You’re creating tempests in teapots, Carroll. You’re misdirecting a very strong itch for power. Find some new direction for it.”
He dropped all expression. “Am I to judge from that that you consider the fraternity to be unimportant?”
“Take it any way you please.”
“You damn veterans are all alike. Everything is a big joke. Arthur is the only one I ever saw who takes things seriously. Just because you fought a war, you’ve got this superior attitude. Frankly, Arlin, it makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Vote for Carroll!” I said. “Vote for a square deal!”
“Go to hell!”
“Now you’re being stupid. Offend me too much and I’ll get interested enough to bust a few spokes out of your big wheel.”
He chewed that around in his mind for a while. I was rewarded with his most charming smile, an outstretched hand. “Sorry, Rod. I get too worked up.”
“Forget it,” I said, yawning.
He stood up. “I’m glad to see Tilly dating, Rod. Poor girl. She needs a few good times.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
He flushed. “You’re damn difficult to talk to sometimes.”
At that point a car stopped behind the house. We heard a girl’s voice over the sound of the surf. They came around the side of the house. Bill and Tilly came out of the water to meet them. Molly had a trim little figure, chestnut hair, a set of large trusting eyes and a vulnerable mouth. Her eyes glowed as she watched Bill Armand walk toward her. Laura was as dark as Tilly, but taller, a shade leaner, with a face so patrician that it looked inbred. Her speech was a finishing-school drawl.
Molly was a giggler. Bill treated Molly with affectionate amusement. Brad treated Laura as a girl who had earned the right to share in his reflected glow as a large wheel around the university. Both girls tried without success to conceal an intense curiosity about Tilly and me and our current status.
Tilly turned feline on me, and in the process she was as cute as a bug. I saw her wondering how to handle the problem. Finally she gave me a meaningful stare and said, “Rod and I are so glad you could come out here. What are you drinking? Rod, fix them up, like a dear, will you?”