Oh Plumbobs. What. A. Night.

Nicholas Hart managed to drag his eyes open and remember that the weekend had only just started. He groaned and sat up, automatically reaching for a hair tie that was usually placed on his nightstand. He gathered up his shoulder-length hair and pulled it back to secure it into a bun. He had grown it out partially because he was too lazy to bother getting a haircut, and partially because the length annoyed his father's preferred, sensible, clean-cut style.

"Ugh, last night was a blur," he heard a female's voice in the room and looked over his shoulder to see a leggy and bronze-skinned blonde clad in very teal underthings. She touched her head to indicate that she was suffering from an acute hangover as she began to search the floor for her discarded clothes.

"Tell me about it," Nick groaned and proceeded to get out of bed and then decided he was not awake enough to be walking around. He let his long body fall across the mattress with his legs and arms hanging off the edges.


"Why don't you stay a bit longer?" he asked and reached out to his companion as she was kneeling on the floor, possibly looking under the bed for her shirt. She sighed and gave him a smile while reaching out and taking his hand in hers, "I have places to be, it's already noon, you know."

The fact only made him groan louder. He'd wasted half the day but that was a consequence of staying awake until 2 in the morning entertaining his very lovely party guest.

Once they had both dressed, he walked her to the entrance of his fraternity house to bid her farewell.

Hoh Fruhm was the frat to be in at Sim State University. The waiting list to join was insane and basically, all members were legacy, meaning they'd had a family member in the frat before them.

Nick originally was loath to pledge, only doing so at his father's insistence. No surprise that his father also was a Hoh Fruhm member when he attended college, which put Nick on the fast track to the top of the list. But over the three years since Nick joined, he found out it really was a fun place to be—the parties, the girls, the status, the perks—it wasn't as bad as he'd imagined.

It was better.


"Well, maybe I'll see you back here later? We're throwing another rager tonight to celebrate the end of midterms."

"Then what was last night celebrating?"

He shrugged with a laugh, "I don't know, the start of the weekend?"

"We'll see then," she grinned and then gave him a quick peck on the cheek, "Bye Nick."

"See ya, Tina," he replied and her expression dissolved into displeasure.

She crossed her arms, "My name is Tara."

He was quick to put on a charming smile for his mistake, "Tara, that's what I meant to say."

She didn't look convinced and left out the front door without another word.

He made his way to the kitchen in search of food as he'd slept past breakfast and his stomach with now grumbling in need for sustenance. Luckily, someone already made a plate of sandwiches. He grabbed one and promptly sat at the counter to devour it.


They really had thrown a party last night for no real reason except they could because it was Friday, and Nick had probably overdone it on the rum and coke but thinking back, he had a great time—met Tina—no, Tara. He hoped she would come back. Or that Tina would. Tina must have been the blonde he woke up with from the weekend before.

"By the Great Green Plumbob, use a plate you slob," Nick was suddenly being chided by the fraternity's president, Marshall Cosgrove.

Marshall could be a blond nightmare sometimes. He came from a family with 'old' money and his father was a businessman who owned a collective of upscale venues in the region. Nick couldn't tell if the guy held real disdain toward him or was just being sarcastic most of the time. Nick decided it was only sarcasm and didn't make any move to get a plate for himself.

Marshall also grabbed a sandwich and sat next to him, though with a plate under it to non-verbally emphasize how non-slobby he was. He bit into his sandwich and gave Nick a studied look, "Did you just wake up?"

Nick nodded, mouth full of sandwich.

Marshall gave a wry laugh and raised his brows, "With that fake blonde right? Tina?"

"Tara," Nick corrected after swallowing his food.

Marshall waved his hand unconcerned, and finished off his sandwich, "Lucky for you, she had enough to drink."

Nick raised an eyebrow, not really understanding what Marshall meant; if it was a veiled insult or not that suggested Nick couldn't get a girl without the aid of inebriation. Nick could, he had enough charm and charisma to win many girls over during his tenure at the frat. He bet he could even give Prince Charming a run for his money. Marshall was probably just jealous. So he shrugged in reply.


"Listen, I need you to mix drinks tonight—we have a special keg for the ladies and trust me, it's going to be the wildest party yet. It's funderwear-themed," Marshall pointed toward the counter behind them, where an old-looking keg and various liquor bottles were set out. Where did he get a keg like that? Probably the internet.

Nick smiled, he did love the 'funderwear' parties they had thrown about once every semester. They invited the entire campus's Greek Society over and everyone stripped down to their skivvies and had a blast. The hook-up chances doubled at those parties too.

Marshall gave Nick a slap on the shoulder, put his plate in the sink, then mumbled "Use a plate next time," and left the kitchen.


Nick had been in charge of party drinks before and he'd learned enough from the house parties that he'd gotten to be a good bartender. He took note of the bottles of alcohol on the counter. The standard whiskey and rum, and other types of hard liquor that mixed well with other flavors. Ladies usually liked strong fruity flavors. He wondered what kind of fruit mixers they still had and was going to open some cabinets to look when something else caught his eye.

A blue pill bottle was laying next to the assortment of alcohol. It was open with a few pills spilled on the counter. He considered it curiously for a moment before stuffing the pills back in, capping it, and reading the label.

'Torporia'

He'd never heard of it before. Then again he wasn't a pharmacist. He pocketed the bottle and continued to search for drink mixers. Damn it, they were clean out. Leave it Marshall to give Nick a task that he couldn't complete.

He needed to find his bro, Rafael. Rafael Lavillos had pledged a year ahead and was a rarity in the house because he didn't have a wealthy family. Rafael was also in charge of getting groceries that week. It seemed like he was tasked with the most remedial household duties because he had no legacy to boast about.


He found Rafael in the trophy room polishing some awards that the fraternity had won throughout the years—the best float for homecoming, first in intramural basketball, and so on. Nick rolled his eyes, it looked like Marshall had put him on cleaning detail too.

"Yo bro," he waved as he entered the room.

"Hey Nick," Rafael replied.

"I need you to grab some drink mixers from the store. Fruity types like strawberry and whatever else they have. Get, like six of them," Nick instructed.

Rafael nodded, "I'll go shopping after I polish these trophies."

Nick took the rag Rafael was using to shine them and stuffed it in his back pocket, "I'll polish, man. If you get groceries now I'll have more time to mix drinks before everyone arrives later"

He heard a small rattle in his pocket and was reminded of the bottle of pills that were also there. He then remembered Rafael was a chem or biology student. He maybe knew what the pills were about?

Nick pulled the bottle out of his pocket and tossed it to Rafael, who caught it easily and looked at it. His brows rose in surprise, clearly recognizing what it was.

"I found this up by the drinks, what is it?"

"Torporia, it's an unregulated substance that sort of—I guess the best way to describe it—blanks out the mind? We had a lab on it a few weeks ago. It increased lethargy in womrat test subjects so much that we could hold the ones usually too vicious to touch."

"So what are you saying? It makes them easy to handle?"

"Yeah and causes disorientation and slight memory loss too. The womrats navigated a maze and then after a dose of this, crawled around not seeming to remember where they had previously been. I mean, in some of them, some were also unaffected which is why it's still in clinical trials."


Nick then connected the dots of Tara's seeming forgetfulness of the night and Marshall's odd comment about her having 'enough' drinks.

Nick felt anger bubble into his throat and simultaneously disgust in his gut. He turned around and slammed his knuckles into the edge of the pool table, which caused Rafael to look at him with concern.

Did Marshall really expect Nick to add these drugs to the keg so he could take easier advantage of the female party guests? What other excuse was there to have these lying about? It was sick. Guys like Marshall were the reason frats got bad raps in the first place, and Nick refused to have a hand in it.