Rushing to Die by Lindsay Emory Read Free Book Online

bone.
    She recovered so quickly, nodding knowledgeably, that I couldn’t be sure what I’d seen. “The police. Of course. Well, I guess you’re used to that, with the murderous rampages your sisters like to go on from time to time.”
    I could handle Sheila’s making snide remarks about me and my nose, but talking trash about my sisters brought out the inner Hope Solo in me. I made an obvious show of checking my Michael Kors watch. “Oh, look at that. My allotted time for sellouts talking smack is all up. I hope you understand.”
    Sheila crossed her arms as the smile melted off her face. “I thought we could be friends, Margot. I was here to offer support. We can be on the same side. We’re kind of alike, you and I.”
    The nerve. I drew myself up, threw my shoulders back, and looked her up and down like I smelled something nasty. “No, we’re not. I’m silicone-­free and proud of it.”
    With that zinger, I twirled around on my sneakers like they were four-­inch Manolos and marched straight back into my Delta Beta home.
    The words of Sheila DeGrasse haunted me through the next hour. We were nothing alike. Sheila DeGrasse was a legend, yes, but only because she played dirty and sold herself out to whatever chapter paid her ridiculous rates during rush season. I didn’t even know what sorority she was a member of, if she’d ever pledged at all. I couldn’t imagine that any organization worthy of Panhellenic status would extend a bid to someone who mocked everything our sisterhoods stood for. Except maybe the Tri Mus she was helping—­further proof that Sheila and I were as different as Blair and Serena.

 
    Chapter Seven
    S INCE I HAD some free time, I hunkered down in my small apartment, near the front door of the house, to try to get some financial reports for headquarters finished. Getting out of the Rush Dungeon had a positive effect on my productivity, and I was almost done with the triplicate Form 1872 when there was a knock at my door.
    Usually, a knock at my door meant there was some kind of drama or emergency that required the diplomatic and leadership skills of a chapter advisor—­but instead, I had received a delivery. I took one look at the large, beautifully presented gift basket and knew immediately who it was from. My best friend in the whole wide world, Casey Kenner.
    â€œCASEY!” I squealed when he picked up. “You shouldn’t have!”
    â€œGirl, of course I should have. You totally deserve it.”
    Casey was not only my best friend, but also my best friend at Delta Beta headquarters. Yes, he’s a man. But he’s Delta Beta to his core, thanks to the proper instruction he received at a young age from his mama, his sisters, and his mama’s mama. (His daddy’s mama was a Tri Mu, but thankfully, she wasn’t around much when he was a boy and couldn’t lead him astray.) He serves the sisterhood as director of public relations—­he got the interview because of his unisex name but got the job because he’s the Delta Beta total package: classy, cheerful, and color-­coordinated.
    I started untying the gigantic yellow-­and-­black bow holding the cellophane wrapper. “It’s not even my birthday,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
    â€œIt’s just a little rush care package. You’ve done so much for that chapter, I thought you should have something for you.”
    I waved at my face a little. He was going to make me cry, and he wasn’t even here. “Where are you, anyway?”
    Casey’s sigh was loud and clear. “I’m at the University of Texas chapter.”
    Wow. For Casey to leave headquarters in Atlanta and visit a chapter meant a huge crisis was in the making —­like when he’d visited here three months ago because the chapter advisor was murdered. “What did they do?” I asked in a scandalized