Chapter 2

Kit sat at his laptop playing a game. Billy stepped into the room. “What are you playing?” he asked.

“I found an online craps game. It’s a good thing I’m not playing for real money ‘cuz I’m losing my shirt.”

“You got nothing else to do? Come with me down to the Arlington. You can help me shark some foosball.”

“I thought Josh usually was your shill for that enterprise.”

“Josh is laid up with some flu or something.”

“I was just gonna go get dinner. I have no idea how to be your shill.”

“Just play some games with me. I’ll let you win the first one. Then it’s a rematch for five bucks. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“All right -- seeing as how I have nothing better to do. You’re gonna have to buy me a burger at the R. What’s a game cost these days?”

“Four quarters,” Billy replied. “Don’t worry -- I have twenty dollars worth of quarters in my pocket.”

Billy headed for the saloon with Kit in tow. The stepped inside and Kit found a table with a view of the foosball table. “What do you want to drink?” his roommate asked.

“A Coke.”

“A Coke?”

“Yeah ... You might be twenty-one and have an ID but I don’t and I don’t relish the notion of being busted as a minor in possession.”

“Suit yourself ... but that would be a long shot in this establishment.”

Billy stepped to the bar and returned with a beer and a Coke. “Hey -- table’s freed up. Come on.”

“What about my burger?”

“Strike while the iron’s hot. Come on.”

They approached the foosball table. Kit put four quarters in the slots and pushed the handle to release the balls. He dropped one into play. Turning the handles on the player rods they moved the ball back and forth along the table until it sank into the goal on Kit’s end.

Kit dropped another ball in play. This one he shot into Billy’s goal. “One all,” he remarked.

“Don’t get cocky.”

Kit dropped another ball into play and Billy demonstrated just how good he was with the game, snatching the ball from Kit and powering it into his goal.

The game ended, 3-2 in Kit’s favor. He started back to his table. “Hey,” Billy called. “How about a rematch?”

“Sorry -- not interested.”

Billy put a five-dollar bill on the table. “How about we make it interesting? Interested now?”

Kit pulled a five from his pocket and they played another game, which Billy won. “I’ve had enough,” Kit said.

“I’ll give you a chance to win your money back,” Billy said. “Double or nothing.”

Kit pulled a ten from his pocket. “I’m all-in with this,” he remarked.

They played, the score tied at 2-2 until the last ball, which Billy pasted into Kit’s goal.

“I’m done,” Kit said and returned to nurse his Coke.

“Anybody else wanna play?” Billy called out. Soon another student sauntered up to the table.

Kit watched the action as Billy lost a game to hook in his mark and then proceeded to win another twenty.

A burly man wearing an Arlington polo shirt approached the table and began a discussion with Billy. Kit read this as an opportunity to slip out of the bar. He waited on the sidewalk until Billy emerged. “Bouncer made me give back my winnings,” he said.

“That didn’t work out as planned.”

“Yeah ... I gotta give that place a rest for a couple of weeks. How about we go try the Dew Drop?”

“That’s such a townie bar,” Kit replied.

“Right -- the townies are easier marks.”

“I’m done,” Kit retorted. “I have no interest in being bounced out of a bar -- or getting into a fight with some townie. And, I still didn’t get my burger. I’m gonna go back to the dorm and find something to eat.”

“I’ll give it a try, solo...” Billy handed Kit some bills. “Here’s your fifteen back.”

“Thanks...” He watched his roommate head down Market street.

Kit turned on his heels and headed up Maple street toward campus. He could hear the sounds of a raucous party taking place at the Gamma Nu fraternity house. He could see a figure staggering across the frat house lawn, headed toward the sidewalk.

Kit recognized her. “Nichelle ... Nichelle...” She looked at him with a glassy stare. “Are you all right?”

“Need to clear my head...” She took a step, stumbled and fell to the ground.

Kit helped her up. “You’re out of it,” he remarked, “what have you been drinking? Come on -- I’ll walk you back to Whalen.” He supported her as they walked. “That’s it -- one foot in front of the other...”

They reached the lobby of her dorm and approached the door leading to the residence wings. “Do you have your ID?” Kit asked.

“Uhh...” Nichelle regarded him incomprehensively. Kit reached for her bag but she snatched it from him.

“What’s your room number? I’ll call security and they can buzz us through.” She stumbled and Kit supported her. “Nichelle -- what room?”

“Room?”

Nichelle appeared to be less and less steady on her feet. Kit regarded how her eyes wandered. “You are really out of it,” he said. “Come with me. We’ll walk across the quad to Moore. You can crash in my room until you sober up some.” He took her arm. “Come on, Nichelle.”

Kit half carried Nichelle toward his dorm and helped her climb the stairs to his room. Unlocking it with his key he guided her inside. “This is my humble abode,” he said. “Over here ... lie down. Maybe you can take a nap and sleep it off ... feel better in a bit.”

“Room spinning,” she mumbled.

Kit regarded her -- her eyes were exhibiting pronounced nystagmus from vertigo. “Maybe you’d better sit up,” he said. “Alcohol disrupts your balance like being seasick. The cure is the same -- focus on something distant ... And, you’re not listening to a word I say.” He helped her to sit on his bed.

Nichelle sat, her eyes blinking and her body swaying slightly. She moaned softly, began licking her lips and swallowing. “Uh-oh,” Kit remarked. He grasped her upper arm and guided her to the bathroom shared with the adjacent room. Nichelle collapsed onto her hands and knees near the toilet. Kit opened the lid and positioned her so her forearms were resting on the bowl and her forehead resting on her crossed wrists.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “It’s gonna happen anyway so the sooner you get it over with...” Nichelle began retching and spitting into the toilet. “Just relax and let it up. You’ll feel better.”

He heard the door to the corridor open. “Hey, Kit -- I won fifty at the Dew Drop ... Kit?”

“In here, Billy,” Kit called.

Billy stepped into the bathroom. “What the ... who’s that?”

“Nichelle Cooper -- my lab partner.”

“Looks like she had that one extra cocktail,” Billy remarked.

“Looks like, indeed.”

“How’d she get here?”

“She ... Hold on, something’s happening. Billy -- come hold her hair.”

“You hold her hair!”

“I’m holding her head.” Kit scooped Nichelle’s curly hair away from her face and, holding her head by her temples he aimed her face toward the bowl. Nichelle’s retching grew stronger and more frequent. She coughed and spat; then, she vomited a strong stream into the bowl, looked up and gasped. “That’s the girl,” Kit said, “get rid of it all -- you’ll feel better.”

“Oh, gross,” Billy said and headed out of the bathroom, holding his nose.

Nichelle vomited a second and third time. “Billy!” Kit called. “Grab a towel.”

“Not one of mine,” he replied.

“One of mine, then.”

Averting his gaze and holding his breath Billy held a towel at arm’s length and Kit took it. “Courtesy flush, Kit,” Billy said as he headed back toward his end of the room, gagging.

“Right.” Kit pressed the flush handle.

Nichelle heaved unproductively a few more times; then she sat back on her heels, her cheeks streaked with tears. Kit wiped her face with the towel. “Done?”

Her eyes rolled upward; then, she keeled over and lay in a fetal position on the bathroom floor. “I guess you’re done. Billy -- give me a hand,” Kit called. “She passed out.”