Son of the Mob by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online Page A

O’Bannon thing. At least there was a tangible reason why things didn’t work out with Angela. This makes no sense at all.
    Eventually, I stake out the ladies’ bathroom. The free flowing of eight kegs has turned this narrow stretch of hallway into the most popular real estate in Gamma Kappa House. I think every coed at NYU squeezes by, tossing all manner of dirty looks in my direction, and I pick up the occasional murmured “Pervert!” I can’t even blame them. What kind of a deviant positions himself like a sentry outside the ladies’ can?
    â€œHey, Vince!” comes a voice. “Over here!”
    It’s Alex, just a few feet—but several people—away from me. We’re the only two guys in the area.
    â€œI’m trying to find someone!” I call back to him.
    â€œTell me about it!” He leans over to talk into my ear. “But it’s useless. College girls are so into themselves. This party sucks.”
    So much for the Promised Land. I make an executive decision. “Let’s get out of here.”
    As we push back to the main loft, who do we run into but Randy, the frat glork.
    â€œHey, loser!” he jeers. “I saw your girlfriend ! She just walked out with two of her friends!” And he dumps a full pitcher of beer over my head and dances away, laughing.
    From this entire exchange, Alex jumps on a single factoid. “Girlfriend?!”
    â€œHe’s talking about Kendra Bightly!” I say in self-defense, teeth chattering. The beer is ice cold, and I’m soaked to the skin. “That reporter!”
    â€œBut why does that guy think she’s your girlfriend ?” he persists.
    I’ve had it. Dripping beer, I start to plow through the crowd toward the exit. If Alex isn’t ready to leave yet, that’s his problem. He follows, spouting questions, which I ignore.
    Near the door, I spy Alfie Heller, our NYU connection. He’s got a beer in each hand, a girl on each arm, and, for some reason, a bowling trophy around his neck, hanging by a bike lock. Seeing us, he transfers the cups to the ladies, and pumps first my hand and then Alex’s.
    â€œHey, guys, how’s it going? Glad you could make it!”
    If he notices that I look and smell like I’ve just taken a swim in the mighty Budweiser, he keeps it to himself.
    I do my best to appear grateful. “Awesome party, Alfie. Thanks for inviting us.”
    â€œYou’re leaving ?” He’s appalled. “So soon? It’s still empty!”
    â€œCar’s at a meter and I’m out of quarters,” I lie.
    He’s all concern. “You’re not driving ? Dude, you reek like a brewery!”
    â€œJust my hair and clothes,” I sigh. Good point, though. I’ve only had a couple of sips, but if I happen to get pulled over on the way home, the cop will take a whiff and assume I’ve been drinking all night.
    Back on the street, I give Alex the whole story about Kendra and me.
    He’s furious. “You blew it again ? Vince, you’re killing me! This is my love life we’re talking about.”
    â€œIt was a one-in-a-million thing,” I argue. “That atmosphere brings out the craziness in people. We’re lucky there weren’t any ax murderers at the party.”
    We ransom the car out of the garage and head home. At Alex’s house, I take a shower while we wash my shirt and jeans. It’s late, but the vending-machine business never closes, and Dad could easily be up with some of the uncles. My father has zero tolerance for drinking and driving, possibly because it’s the only vice he doesn’t get a cut of. Of course, I haven’t really been drinking, but Dad doesn’t know that, and with my hair and clothes soaked with beer, it’s not worth the hassle.
    I finally roll into the driveway around one. Turns out Dad’s up, but not for business reasons. He’s waiting for me in the