The Scavenger Hunt

Chapter 6 finds our boy Travis back on the hunt, albeit reluctantly so. If you're a skimmer, hey, I get it. I try to be succinct with all but the most important of the sex scenes, but sometimes they get a little long and repetitive. Don't skim the sex scene on this one, or you're gonna miss a whole bunch of plot. And actually, that's a pretty good rule for a majority of my sex scenes, in this and all other stories.

Big props to samuraisan, my long-time editor and beta reader. He makes time when he doesn't have time, which is more than I can say for the actual writing of my stories.. I write when motivated. He edits when I ask him to. Same can be said for thatsbogus, who in addition to occasionally beta reading for me while on vacation, is also an award-winning author on this site. His Seinfeld story just won a monthly award. Go read it. Then read everything else he's written.

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The Scavenger Hunt, Chapter 6

After my hot, passionate -- fucking incredible -- night with Beth, I'd decided I was done playing this game with the fraternity. I felt a connection with Beth that I'd never experienced before, and she was where I wanted to spend my energy from now on. I knew I'd have to tell the frat that I was done, but that was a problem for another day.

Or, as it turned out, the very next fucking day.

We had a weekend series against Winthrop and we won Friday night's game 9-2. Lex allowed just one walk and one hit -- unfortunately, the hit was a home run and came right after the walk. Our offense had a great game though -- Jamar, myself and Chet hit back-to-back-to-back homers in the third inning, and I scored three times.

I'd invited Beth and Taylor, but Taylor's parents were visiting and they had weekend plans, so they couldn't make it to the game.

My dad, however, did.

"Uh... hey, dad," I said. "I didn't know you were here."

"Helluva game, Travis," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. Really, I wanted nothing more than to get into the locker room and shed my sweat- and dirt-stained uniform. My dad had come to several games, but this was the first time he hadn't told me in advance, so there was another reason he was here, and I needed to find out what it was. "That homer you hit in the fourth, I don't know if that ball has landed yet."

"I think it did," I said. "I heard glass breaking and a horn blowing on the road that runs behind the fence."

"Serves 'em right," he said. "They should know better than to drive back there when my son's at the plate."

"Damn right," I said with a grin. "So, what ARE you doing here, dad?"

"What?" he asked, feigning offense. "You're not happy to see me?"

"Sure," I said. "It's just unexpected, is all."

"I'm going to your frat party tomorrow night," he said. He could have told me he was scouting for the Yankees and I would have been less stunned.

"Say what?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You know I'm on AKP's national leadership board. We get invited to chapters all around the country. I don't normally accept unless they're close by. That this is my alma mater is just a coincidence. Anyway, I figured I'd come down early and catch your games beforehand."

"Uh, dad," I said. "You know what goes on at these things, right?"

I knew it was stupid as I said it -- after all, my dad had been the president his senior year of undergrad.

He chuckled. "I think so, yeah. Why? Has it changed from the usual drinking, drugs and other assorted debauchery it was when I went to school here?"

"Not so much, no," I said. Shawn had texted me and told me about the party earlier that morning, describing it as "target rich." He didn't mention my pledge task explicitly, but I knew what he was implying. I'd decided right then that I wasn't going.

"Relax, son," he said. "You know I would never, ever cheat on your mother. I won't touch the weed, either. I'll just put in an appearance, talk with the chapter officers for a while and have a couple drinks with my son. I'll be long gone before the orgy starts."

Orgy might have been a stretch, but not a big one. Either way, that wasn't what concerned me.

"Dad, I'm not going to the party." He raised his eyebrows, and I kept going before he could retort. "I just have a lot going on right now. We'll have another game Sunday afternoon, and I have a ton of studying to get to."

I was actually all caught up on my homework, and it would hardly be the first time I drank well into the wee hours before a game. But I wasn't about to tell my dad the real reason I didn't want to go.

"You're a pledge, Travis," he said. "Unless they've changed the rules, you have to go."

I took a deep breath. I didn't really want to do this here and now, but there wasn't ever going to be a good time.

"I think I'm going to drop out of the pledge process, dad," I said. Now his eyes bugged out and he beat me to the next words.

"You... what?" he asked. There was no anger in his voice, not yet anyway. But what was there -- confusion, disappointment, and hurt -- made me feel even worse.

"Dad, I know it's a generational thing, and I know how important it is to you and Grandpa. And I've tried, really hard, to make it that important to me, but... it's just not," I said, recognizing as I said it that I was fibbing. I'd honestly been pretty standoffish toward the whole process from the beginning; the only real enthusiasm I had was because of the pledge task. I'd never really, truly

tried

to embrace fraternity life. "I have baseball. I have a lot of friends in my major. I have the Marines. I'll have plenty of life-long bonds. I don't need or want the fraternity lifestyle."

"Son, I had to pull a ton of strings to get you in as a sophomore," he said. "You know how many non-freshman pledges there are in the country this year? Two. The other one is at Stanford, and his dad is a United States Senator."

"I never asked you to do that, dad," I said. "I mean, I appreciate that you -- "

"I can see that," he spat sarcastically. Now, here was the anger I'd been expecting. "You didn't ask me to pull strings to get you onto the baseball team, either. Are you going to bail out of that, too?"

Now

I

was starting to get a little pissed.

"Hold on a sec, dad," I said. "You called in a favor to get me the tryout. I impressed the coaches, or I wouldn't be on the team. All you did with the frat was get me a spot as a pledge. I was going to have to earn that on my own."

He took a deep breath, released it slowly, and looked back at the baseball field for a second. "Is that what it is?" he asked, much more calmly, when he turned around. "Is the pledge task too difficult?"

I scoffed, but he held a hand up.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "But is it too time-consuming, maybe? You just said, you've got a lot of other things on your plate. If you want, I could talk to the pledgemaster tomorrow night."

I had no intention of discussing my pledge task with my father, of all people... but I appreciated the attempt.

"The pledge task is nothing, dad," I lied, "and you talking to the pledgemaster would just make things harder on me. I haven't 100 percent made up my mind about it, okay? It's just... not where my heart is right now, and I doubt it would ever be as important to me as you want it to be."

"It kinda sounds like you

have

made your mind up, Travis," he said. I couldn't make eye contact.

"Anyway, I need to get cleaned up, dad," I said. "Did you want to get dinner tonight or something?"

He didn't answer for a long moment.

"No," he finally said. "A couple of other leadership guys are in town, and we have plans for dinner and drinks. I'll be at the game tomorrow, but right now, I've got to make a few phone calls."

There was no hug as he turned to walk away, and I could have pretended it was because he was in a suit and I was in a grungy uniform, but I knew better. He was as close to full-on angry as he ever got, and I knew exactly who he was about to call.

I didn't even make it into the shower before the first text message arrived. By the time I got out, three more had joined it. By the time I got dressed, talked to one of the local beat writers about the game, and confirmed the report time for tomorrow's game, there were an even dozen of them.

One was from Shawn, expressing disappointment in my decision and hoping that I'd change my mind, and he'd see me tomorrow night. Others came from my mom, my two sisters, my aunt and uncle, and my grandmother on my mom's side. Most of them were vague and unspecific, just asking me what I did to upset my father and asking me if I couldn't just do whatever it is he wanted me to do and make him happy.

The only one that mentioned details was my mother's:

Travis, you know how important this is to your father. To him, this fraternity and his lasting connection to it are the greatest things in his life, outside of family. It would really embarrass him if his own son decided not to join.

My dad's dad didn't really do texting, and he was more of the nuclear option, anyway -- if these first efforts failed, my grandfather would call, and unlike my father, he never had a problem unleashing his anger.

I stewed on it as I walked home, but in the back of my mind, I already knew what I'd do. I really hated upsetting my dad, but it was damn near impossible to say no to my mom.

When I got home, she'd sent me another text that just drove the point home harder.

Your dad has always been your biggest fan. You know that. He hated you joining the military, but he was your biggest supporter. He knows that whatever you choose, you're going to blaze your own trail, and you're destined for greatness. This fraternity is the only specific thing he wants you to do. Can't you take just a tiny little detour to make him happy?

I let out a sigh I hoped she could hear all the way in North Carolina.

I slammed my bedroom door, opened my sock drawer and took out my notebook. I unfolded the piece of paper that had all the objectives and classes on it, and drew all the lines I needed to update it.

"Let's get this fucking over with."

I thought of Beth, and the look of amazement on her face when she'd seen the sunset last night on the helicopter.

"Quickly."

***********************************

I didn't bother to tell anyone I'd changed my mind. I spotted my dad in the stands at the Saturday afternoon game -- it wasn't quite as great a performance as yesterday, but I still went 2-for-4 with a walk, two stolen bases and scored twice in a 5-1 win -- but by the time I left the field, he was nowhere to be seen. That was OK, because I wasn't really in the mood to talk to him anyway.

I thought about texting Shawn to inform him of my change of heart, but I figured he'd probably tell my dad -- after all, my dad had apparently told him about our conversation yesterday right after we'd had it. I wanted my dad to sweat right up until the end.

Still, I knew he considered it a personal victory when I walked into the Alpha Kappa Pi fraternity house later that night. I damn sure made him wait, making the rounds of the house and accepting congratulations from a half-dozen people on the baseball team's victories. I ventured into the kitchen to grab a beer and flirted with a couple of pledges from our sister sorority for a few minutes. I meant nothing by it -- the pledge task dictated that I sleep with five more women, and those would be the only five I had sex with outside of Beth. But still, it kept me occupied and kept my dad waiting.

Finally, though, I couldn't avoid it. He was sitting on a couch in the living room with Shawn, Tyson, and another older man. I didn't know him, but I could tell by looking at him who he was.

"Travis, great to see you," Tyson said, standing up and shaking my hand. The older man next to him stood up as well. "Dad, this is Travis Temple, one of our pledges. Travis, this is my dad, Richard Sanders. He's President of the national leadership board."

"Nice to meet you," I said, dutifully shaking his hand. "That's odd, isn't it? Two members of the board coming from the same alumni chapter?"

"What's that?" the older Sanders asked, before figuring out what I meant. "Oh, you mean with your dad. No, I did my undergrad at William & Mary, in Virginia. Tyson's mother and I got divorced while he was in high school, and he moved with me to South Carolina. Tyson chose to attend school here."

"Ah," I said. My dad stood up.

"Travis, I'm glad you could make it," he said.

Even though I knew he would, I was still pretty mad that he got my mom and sisters involved in this little power play. I simply nodded at him. I wasn't sure how much any of them knew about our conversation from the day before, or if Tyson and his dad knew I was seriously considering not joining. Either way, I could see this situation getting awkward.

It never got the chance, because I got saved by the bell, so to speak. A bell with a very shapely backside, and the same bell that had given me a thumbs-up the other night in the gym.

"Hey, Tyson," Jamie said, walking up to her boyfriend and tucking herself under his arm.

"Hey, baby," Tyson said without looking at her. "You've met my dad already, and you remember Travis, right? From the baseball game a few weeks ago?"

We made eye contact, and her eyes managed to smile without letting it get to her lips. If Tyson was still referencing that game, then that meant he thought that was the last time we'd seen each other. I'd been working off a flimsy theory that she was only at the gym the other night because he'd sent her there to check on me, but either that was blown to hell now, or he was a great actor.

"Yep!" she exclaimed. "And who is this handsome man?" she asked, pointing at my dad. I made a quick introduction, and in doing so, I had to look in Shawn's direction. I was somewhat surprised to see a pained expression on his face as he watched Tyson and Jamie interact, but he must have noticed me looking, because he quickly smiled.

"So, Travis," Tyson said. "How's that pledge task coming along?"

And that, boys and girls, was when I realized that Tyson Sanders was a huge dick.

Shawn's eyes immediately hit the floor, and Jamie turned a shade of red usually reserved for Alabama football players. Tyson just beamed a set of pearly whites at me, clearly enjoying putting me on the spot.

His dad and mine both looked at me, their interest piqued. I was guessing -- hoping, in my father's case -- that neither of them knew the details of my pledge task.

I handled it as well as I could. "It's going fine," I replied. "About halfway there, and still have a few weeks left."

"Good, good," Tyson said. "Guessing you're here tonight to make a little more progress?"

"I'm here tonight because I have to be," I said, hoping there was enough venom in my voice to properly convey my anger at this conversation, but not so much that he'd get really pissed off. "But yeah, while I'm here, I figure I'll do a little work."

"What exactly is your pledge task?" Tyson's dad asked. I briefly considered telling him all about it, just so Tyson could experience what he'd been doing to me the past few minutes. There were a handful of reasons I couldn't, though. For one, my dad was standing right there, and I would post it on Facebook before I'd tell him. For another, the pledge task said I could only tell one person, and the only one here I knew for sure already knew about it was Shawn, so I'd be telling four additional people, and I'd fail. But the biggest reason was the chess match Tyson was playing with me -- he wanted me to crack, and spilling everything right now would be me doing just that. So, I just smiled.

"You'll have to ask the pledgemaster, sir," I said. "I'm not even really sure Tyson knows my task, but then again, I don't know who the pledgemaster is, either. All I know is I can't talk about it until it's accomplished."

"My son always did like his secrets," the man said. He started talking to my father, and Tyson and Jamie were chatting about something. That left me with Shawn, who pulled me away after I said my goodbyes.

"You handled that very well," Shawn said.

"I don't even know what the fuck I just did, Shawn," I said. "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but I'm gonna ask one right now. What the fuck does Tyson think he's doing, asking me that shit in front of my dad?"

"He was just putting you on the spot, seeing if you'd crack under pressure," Shawn said, but something in his voice told me he wasn't exactly buying that, either.

"Shawn, my patrol came under fire by three squads of insurgents a couple years ago in Afghanistan," I said. "That's pressure. In a game earlier this year, I was the guy at the plate in the last inning with two outs and us down by two runs. It's not the same as war, but that's pressure, too. I had to take an accounting exam two weeks early, well before the teacher got to any of the material in class. That's pressure. What just happened now? That was Tyson being a double-XL dick."

"I don't disagree," Shawn said. "Did those other situations turn out as well as this one did?"

"Well, we won the game, I aced the test, and I ain't dead," I said. "I just about punched your boy in the jaw, though."

"I would have paid great money to see that," he muttered, just loud enough that I could hear it. He pondered things for a moment before looking up with his big smile again. "You handled yourself well. I know you're angry, but just grab a beer and let it go. Like you said... you have some work to do, remember?"

He spun me around and pointed me at the game room they'd converted into a temporary dance floor, then gave me a little shove forward. Most of the people there were either frat brothers or girls from the sister sorority, and I recognized very few of them.

He'd purposely pointed me toward the back of the room, though, and there was one girl there who couldn't help but stand out from the crowd -- she stood just short of six feet tall, and her bright red hair served as a homing beacon, drawing the attention of anyone who looked in her direction. No one actually knew what her natural hair color was, because it had been dyed ever since she hit campus. I was fairly certain that if the power went out in the house, no one sharing a room with her would notice.

Her full name was Katerina Silvachenko, but she'd told the PA announcer at CAU's women's basketball games to shorten it to Trina Silver. She was a 3-point shooting specialist from Ukraine, and like me, she was working her way through the physical education program. She was in two of my classes, including one I didn't yet have checked off, Adapted Physical Activity. I knew from listening to her in class that she had one of those sexy eastern European accents, but I'd never talked to her one-on-one. That was about to change.

As I pushed my way through the crowd to her, I noticed she wasn't alone. That wasn't a surprise -- none of the women at this party were overdressed, but Trina's lack of clothing set her apart even in this crowd, and that tended to attract your average drunk, horny, male college student. She wore a green halter top, but she had the bottom pulled up and tucked under her breasts so that it looked like a sports bra. Her black miniskirt left little to the imagination -- nothing, actually, I realized as I got closer, as I could see just a hint of black lace between her legs.

I finally threw enough elbows to be just a few feet away from her, with just a few of her would-be suitors standing between us. I tried to come up with a tactful way to approach her -- competition didn't bother me, but a lot of these guys were frat brothers. I didn't care if they liked me or not, but getting them pissed at me before I'd completed the pledge process would just slow things down.