Help Shelby

“Sorry,” you say to Rey. “Beer’s more important.”

Rey gives you a smirk and makes a finger gun at you. “That’s my girl.”

“What do you need?” you ask, trotting over to Shelby’s truck.

“Oh, we have about a thousand deliveries here. You guys drink more beer than all the frats combined,” Shelby says, checking her clipboard. “I have a reserve keg. A keg for tonight. A keg for the kitchen. And then all the personal orders.”

Right. This is the beer that girls ask her to bring in exchange for a good time.

“But I don’t know where everybody’s rooms are,” Shelby says. “Can you help me with that?”

“Sure,” you say. “But shouldn’t you put it all in the fridge?” Beer has to be cold.

“No, I did that last time and Dorothy got mad at me. Your fridge isn’t big enough.”

“Wow,” you say, looking at all the personal orders. Budweiser for Beth, Coors Light for Rey, something fancy and German for Lotte, and it goes on. Are you the only one in the whole place that isn’t hitting Shelby up for booze?

You put your backpack on both shoulders and pick up a pair of six-packs.

“What’s in the kegs?” you ask.

“PBR, baby.”

“Is it tasty?”

“It’s swill.” Shelby grabs some six-packs as well. “But it’s cheap. And it’s tradition.”

You spend the next few minutes showing her around the house, running into the usual assortment of idiocy. Sun answers her door naked and hands Shelby a thick stack of glossy, pornographic photographs. Ridiculous.

The creaking and bumping coming from inside Kylie’s room is extremely graphic.

“Just leave it out there!” she gasps.

Downstairs, Tracy answers her office door with a weary look. “Oh, thank Christ,” she says, snatching the huge, fat tallboy can out of your hands. She pops it open right there and slams the door in your face.

You’re having fun, so you help Shelby with the kegs, which are super heavy. One to the kitchen, one to the party room, and then one down to the basement. The basement is the hardest because there are steps involved. Shelby motions you back.

“I’ll carry it,” she assures you. “Can you just give me some light?”

“Sure.” You use your phone and lead the way. She follows you down, then totters off among the wine racks with the keg.

“Amy told me to put it back here out of sight,” she says over her shoulder to you. “Sounds like Beth and Kylie kept getting into these kegs down here. Amy would want them for parties, and they’d be empty.”

“Sounds right,” you say, following her.

Shelby sets the keg down in an alcove and sighs. “Whoof.” She yawns and stretches her arms over her head. “Finally.”

“You done for the day?”

“Yup.” She looks around with interest. “You guys have a lot of cool stuff down here.”

“It’s all older than us,” you say, joining her. Trunks, suitcases, clothes, belongings. It seems like there’s too much of it, but CCL has been around so long that even if every girl only leaves a little behind, it would build up like this.

“Wow,” Shelby says, picking up an unopened can of New Coke. “I wish I could just look around down here.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” you ask. “Nobody cares. Go nuts.”

“You think Amy wouldn’t mind?” Shelby leans against the wall, which makes a cracking noise. Some dust falls away from the bricks. She pulls back quickly. “Shit. I didn’t think I was that fat.”

“You’re not,” you say, startled. You step past her and put your hand on the bricks. These bricks look different from the rest, as though there was something here that got covered up. Weird! Anyway, you better get back to your own stuff.

“Thanks for your help,” Shelby says. “I owe you some free beer.”

“I’d like that,” you say, hoping that it comes out sounding flirty.

Upstairs, you pause to see if Lotte’s around, but you don’t see her anywhere on the first floor. You just want to ask her what she has going on tonight…

A sudden rumble of thunder startles you. You make a little noise and turn toward the front door as you hear sudden, heavy rain start to crash against the house. That was quick! It went from nothing to storming in an instant.

“Yikes,” you say, placing your hand on your chest.

The doorbell rings. Hmm.

You go and open it, finding a pretty lady that you don’t recognize. She’s wearing a coat.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply.

She smiles. It’s a confident, sexy smile. “I’m just here to look around,” she says. It’s like she expects you to know who she is, but you don’t. Maybe the others know her. Hmm.

Should you ask who she is and risk looking clueless? Or just let her in?