Happy Utopia Day, Joe McCarthy

Chapter 18

Oh, this helps me hold my liquor better. 

—Senator Joseph McCarthy 

Derek parks a pledge sprint away from the Alpha Tau house. The sun has just set, and the sky is a cool blue. The dry air still smells of hot cement. We walk down a row of fraternity houses until we reach Alpha Tau Omega, a three-story white-pillared mansion. Long cement steps lead us to the front porch, where two fraternity brothers with battleship arms block our way. More collegiate-looking folks pass by unmolested. 

I produce our ticket vouchers and offer to pay for Wizkid. 

One of the frat guys scowls at me. “Where’d you get this?” 

“We bought it, straight up.” 

“Yeah, but you wanted to donate, right? I mean, parents’ day is in the fall.” 

Derek steps in front of me. “Listen, you AT ogre. We bought tickets to the dance, and we’ve been invited to the dance by some honest Tri-Delt sisters. Now we are gonna dance.” Derek’s left foot points left, and his right points right. He poses his arms like an Egyptian, and his body shakes like a worm. He sticks his lip out and stares at the fraternity brothers as if to say, take that. 

Wizkid shakes like a scared freshman on rush day. “Luh, luh, let’s go.” 

One of the brothers steps forward and faces Derek. “Look, Snoop Dogg. I don’t care how many tickets you bought. Alpha Tau is known for sick parties, and I’m not going to be the person to—” 

“Mr. Allen!” Rachel and three friends come up the stairs. “Did you get my resume? Hi, Mr. Thompson.” 

“Hi, Rachel.” 

Derek smiles at Rachel. “Hey. Good to see you.” He turns to Alpha Tau man. “Like I was saying, we were invited.” 

Alpha Tau man steps back. “Rachel?” 

“Hi, Tom.” Rachel smiles. “It’s cool. They’re with me.” 

Alpha Tau Tom looks to the sky and sighs. “Fine.” He waves us in. 

We walk through a grand foyer into a room decorated appropriately for the world’s future players. A majestic chandelier overlooks a Queen Anne table. Fine antique furniture befitting an English lord’s manor is placed throughout the room. 

Wizkid looks around in awe. “We’re at ASU? College students live here?” 

“They do,” I say. “And I’m sure they have a computer around here somewhere we can use.” 

We are directed down a hallway filled with portraits of Alpha Tau Omega power alums and out onto a cement back patio. A hunter green tent covers the back lawn. A dreadlocked four-man band plays reggae music in the far corner. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says to Rachel. “I haven’t had a chance to review your resume.” 

“Oh, that’s okay.” 

Rachel’s three friends stand their distance and eye us strangely through thick mascara. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get to it,” Derek says. “Where’d you like to live when you graduate?” 

“I’ve always wanted to go to LA.” 

A tuxedo-wearing redheaded pimple-faced pledge waiter offers us blue plastic pint cups filled with mango-colored liquid. “Special ATO island punch,” he says. 

Rachel, Derek, Wizkid, and I each take a glass. 

“Anyway,” Derek says. “We appreciate your help. I’ll pass your resume along and set you up an interview with our LA office.”