4

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

TIGER CLUB

PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

Toby Brown pulled up in front of the big brick building that housed Tiger Club, one of many exclusive eating clubs at Princeton. Brown wasn’t a member, though he’d been asked. He found most of the members to be assholes. Not all, though—his best friend, Dave Willoughby, was a member.

Brown honked the horn of his BMW twice. A moment later, Willoughby emerged, carrying a tennis racket and a leather duffel bag.

Brown had the passenger window rolled down and yelled:

“Hurry up! I lost him!”

Willoughby didn’t change his pace. He reached the BMW and threw his belongings in the back seat, then climbed into the front. Brown sped off.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Mexico?” said Brown. “It’s spring fucking break, Dave. Where else do you want to go?”

“You know I’m not talking about Mexico,” said Willoughby. “You can’t just ‘lose’ your Secret Service detail. Your mom is the vice president. All you’re going to do is create problems for her.”

Brown grinned.

“A week ago, she wasn’t,” said Brown. “Now, she is. What’s the difference? If that wet blanket is following us around Mexico we’ll have a miserable time.”

“He seems nice enough to me,” said Willoughby. “Stevens, Stephenson, whatever his name is.”

“Jed Stevens. He’s fine, I guess, but come on, can we drop this? You think we’ll be able to buy blow down there in front of a Secret Service agent? Negative, and I want to have fun. That involves girls, beer, tequila, and blow.”

Willoughby shook his head, saying nothing as Brown ripped the M3 through Princeton, eventually steering the sedan onto the highway.

“Next stop, Newark Airport,” said Brown.

“Your mom is going to be pissed, Toby,” said Willoughby. “I like your mom. She’s going to blame me.”

“No, she won’t,” Brown scoffed. “By the time she finds out she’ll just laugh it off.”

“You bought the fucking tickets! They’ll trace it and you know it.”

“Can you lay off?” said Brown. “Come on, this was supposed to be fun. Old times before we graduate. Remember that time at Middlesex? That time we brought all that vodka back to the dorm and had a fucking rager?”

“You got suspended, Toby. The cops came.”

Brown grinned.

“But I didn’t get kicked out,” he said conspiratorially, “or arrested.”

“That makes me feel good,” said Willoughby. “I’m flying to Mexico with the son of the Vice President of the United States whose main goal in life is to not get arrested.”

Brown reached for the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope, removing a thick joint. He took a lighter from his pocket and lit it, then took a puff. He offered it to Willoughby, who took it and, a dour look on his face, took a few puffs.

Willoughby cracked his window, letting in air.

“Fine,” said Willoughby. “Just don’t be surprised when I say, ‘I told you so.’”