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I shook her off. “Then maybe he should enlighten us. After all, they’re turning the society over to us in a couple of weeks.”
“Not you,” Poe snapped. “Never really you.” He cocked his head toward a few of the junior men. “Them.”
And that was the moment I witnessed some sort of freaky, sci-fi movie of the week telepathy mind trick miracle, as all five women in the room thought the exact same thing. And that thing was: I’m so outta here.
In unison we gasped, in unison we stood, and in unison the first female members of Rose & Grave in almost two hundred years turned and walked right out the door.
We hit the street fuming.
“I can’t believe—those—fucking assholes—who do they think they—when do they think they are?” Demetria was choking on her own indignation.
Odile tossed her head. “I’d say about 1831.”
Je
Clarissa shushed us. “Not in the street, guys. Remember what Malcolm said about discretion.”
“Um, were you in the same meeting as the rest of us, Angel?” Demetria pointed at the fourth floor. “We’re out. If we were ever in.”
“Which is debatable,” I added, feeling that fu
“What is the benefit of keeping quiet now?” Demetria asked. She raised her voice until it echoed around the stone courtyard of Calvin College. “I was a Digger and they done me wrong!”
Clarissa and I tackled her, while Je
“And the next is getting wasted.” Odile grabbed me with one hand and Je
11. Powwow
Clarissa steered us away from the nightclub Odile had chosen, into a smaller, more classic Eli bar. It enjoyed a reasonably healthy crowd of Sunday evening drinkers, but not so many that our group couldn’t find a nice, out-of-the-way table at which to commiserate. (See? I knew I could come up with a better use for that word!) The bar was split-level, with tables above, and a bar, dance floor, and stage below. We headed up to the top level, where the five of us squeezed into a brown leather booth. I found myself shoved between Demetria and Je
Or Sisterhood of Death, as the case may be.
Curiously, Odile and Clarissa, though thi
“First things first,” Demetria a
“I don’t drink,” Je
“Why ever not?”
“Well, to start with, it’s illegal. I’m only twenty.”
I ruminated on whether that made her holier-than-thou genius more or less tolerable.
“Never stopped me breaking into Daddy’s bourbon,” said Clarissa, signaling the barkeep from the lower level.
“Nor me,” said Odile. “But then, but the time I was seventeen, I’d already had a stint in rehab. What meth didn’t do to me, Miller Lite won’t.”
“Miller Lite?” I shook my head. “I need something stronger than that tonight.”
Clarissa gri
He looked at the money, then at us. “Who are you girls?”
“We’re who you think we are,” she said simply. “312. Five of them. Straight up, please, and with a twist.”
We all stared at her, openmouthed, as the barkeep rushed—actually, jogged—away down the steps.
“How did you know?” I asked.
She smiled again and I noted that the thing on her collar was her Rose & Grave pin. “Membership, girls, has its privileges. And so does legacy. This was my daddy’s favorite bar when he was a Knight of D143. Stands to reason that they’d have the society drink.”
Now Demetria looked smug. “Fake it till you make it? Is that your strategy?”
“No,” said Clarissa. “But I do intend on enjoying the rights I’ve earned. Like Amy said, we’re full-fledged members of Rose & Grave, whether they like it or not. I, for one, am going to act like it.”
“Does that include terrorizing bartenders?” I asked.
She fluffed her hair. “That was a simple request, honey. I’d only untuck the terror if we were denied.” She settled back in her seat, then tilted her head to the side, studying Demetria as if seeing her for the first time. “You know, Demetria, I never noticed this before in your baggy shirts, but you’ve got a great rack. Have you ever thought about losing the kente cloth and going for something in a deep V-neck knit? I’m thinking coral, or maybe even peach, with your skin tone. I’ve got this sweater from BCBG—”
Demetria blinked at her and even Je
“Yes, but do we even want to be members of Rose & Grave anymore?” I fingered the pin on the strap of my bag. Was it only two days ago that I’d received it? Already it seemed to belong to me. “They made it pretty clear that hardly any of them want us there.”
“I don’t care what they want,” Demetria said. “I already heard way too much about that. I’d rather hear about us. I want to know why each of you joined. I think that if we still believe the society can fulfill the reasons we first accepted the tap, then we should fight. If not—”
“Bail?” asked Odile.
Demetria nodded, and since it sounded like a decent plan, we all agreed. Demetria went first. “To me, it was a question of changing society from the inside. There’s a certain amount you’re going to listen to some black dyke from Pittsburgh, and then there’s the amount you’ll listen to her if she’s waving an Eli diploma in your face, and then, on top of that, there’s the amount you’ll listen—”
“If she’s got a phalanx of powerful Diggers backing her up?” I cut in.
“You got it, sister.”
“Do you really think that old-boys’ network will back you up, Digger or no?”
Here’s where Demetria started looking sheepish. “Not anymore. I’d hoped being tapped meant they were willing to listen to someone like me. Apparently, what it really meant is that they hoped they could make someone like me listen to them.”
To my left, Je
The drinks arrived in tall, frosted martini glasses and Clarissa slid them along the table. “Just take a sip, Je
Odile tasted the concoction, then smiled in appreciation at her seatmate. “Well, I can’t say I had any explicit motive for joining like you did, Dee. To me, it’s one more exclusive party. If I’m a Digger, I’m a VIP to that many more people.” Her tone was completely unapologetic, and so sincere I wasn’t even sure if I could feel offended.
Clarissa blinked at her, shocked, I was sure, at being out-snobbed. She turned to the other side of the table. “I’m a legacy,” she said. “Of course I was going to join if given the opportunity. It would be like not attending Eli. I’m a Cuthbert. We’re Diggers. Period.”
Je