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  A Sucker Born Every Minute

  Book #1 of The Sucker Series

  a novel by

  Lia Kane

  A Sucker Born Every Minute

  PUBLISHSED BY:

  Lia Kane on Smashwords

  Copyright © 2011 Lia Kane

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For my mom

  Writing a story about orphans made me realize how fortunate I am to not only have a mom, but one who loves me as much as mine does.

  “You can’t go home again.”

  Thomas Wolfe

  Chapter One

  “TWO WORDS,” SAID Whitney as she busted into our dorm room. “Frat party.”

  “One word: no,” I said smugly. “I win.”

  “No is not an acceptable answer. All the action is at the Nu Alpha Mu Phi house tonight, and we’re not going to miss out on it.”

  “Nu Alpha Mu Phi,” I repeated. “What happened, were three Greek letters not enough and they had to get a fourth?”

  “Whatever,” she glared at me. “They’re not a typical fraternity. They’re a philanthropic brotherhood. Put your books down right now and back away from the desk. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Apparently, you didn’t hear me the first time. I said no.”

  “Come on, Jerrika. It’s Friday night, and our freshman year is almost over. We should be out celebrating.”

  I shook my head in protest. “We should be studying. Final exams start bright and early Monday morning, in case you forgot.”

  “We’ve got all of Saturday and Sunday for that. Tonight, we party. Get up now or this is going to get ugly.”

  “I’m not go-ing,” I said in a singsong voice.

  “Yes you aaaa-re,” she sang back.

  I turned away from my desk to face her. “You’re not giving me a choice here, are you?”

  “Absolutely not.” Whitney planted her feet shoulder-width apart and put her hands on her hips. It was like John Wayne trapped in a 19 year-old girl’s body. I almost expected her to whip out a pistol and walk me to the party at gunpoint.

  Whitney and I had been best friends since we were six years old, and after receiving our acceptance letters from Tarheel State University, decided to take a gamble on rooming together. While our mismatched personalities could have been a recipe for disaster in the confines of a six –by – nine foot shared dorm room, we found that we complemented each other nicely. Whitney was always the one to prod me out the door to football games, dances and parties; I would reel her back in long enough to make her do homework and study. We were good for each other.

  Most of the time.

  I really didn’t want to go to the party, but Whitney wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  “Get up,” she commanded. “You can’t go in sweatpants and that ratty old Blue Sky Public High School t-shirt. Go get a shower and let me take over from there.”

  Resistance was futile. An hour later, I was marching across campus in black platform heels, tight jeans and a red bustier. My curly brown hair was flat-ironed stick straight and swished back and forth as I walked, tickling my neck and shoulders. My face felt abnormally heavy with all of the makeup Whitney had plastered on it, but I had to admit, she had done a tremendous job of glamming me up for the party.

  She walked in front of me, her long legs making deep strides across the hilly campus. I struggled to keep up with her. Normally, she wouldn’t leave me behind in the dust, but Whitney was anxious to get to the frat house. She pulled a can of beer from her handbag, popped the tab and gulped it while she walked.

  “How many of those have you had, anyway?”

  “Just a few. Relax… what are you, my mother now?”

  “I’m not mothering you. I’m just curious to know how you mastered the art of drinking while walking this fast.”

  “I’m a girl of many talents.”

  “As I know all too well.” I paused for a second to shake my foot and ward off a cramp that was creeping into my right leg. When the muscle relaxed, I doubled my pace to catch up with her. “What’s so special about Nu Alpha Mu Phi, anyway?” It was a fair question. I had never seen her so excited.

  “Ethan West, that’s what’s so special,” she said, glancing back at me over her shoulder with a sly grin. “He’s the president of the Nu Alphas and he’s the one who invited me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Does this mean I’m walking home alone tonight?”

  “If I’m lucky.”

  “So how do you know this guy?”

  “Just met him, actually. We were both at the campus clinic earlier today. He struck up a conversation with me in the lobby and invited me to the party.”

  “Well, that’s original. Wonder how many other girls your frat boy picked up on the way out of student health with their birth control refills?”

  “I wasn’t there for birth control,” Whitney insisted. “I went to give blood. It was actually the Nu Alphas who sponsored the blood drive. They’re a phila… philanthropic brotherhead. I mean, brotherhood.”

  “You told me already. Those are mighty big words for you to be using on a Friday night, when according to you, we’re supposed to be completely unplugged from all things academic.”

  “Hey, just because I’m half-drunk already doesn’t mean that I can’t show off my dazzling vocabulary. Quit being so self-righteous, you beyotch.”

  “You know, if you gave blood earlier today, you should be drinking water and rehydrating yourself so your body can replenish its blood supply. Alcohol isn’t going to help.”

  “I’ll be fine. I did a good thing today, so good karma will be coming my way.”

  “Yep, you’re just a regular humanitarian, donating blood out of the goodness of your heart.”

  “Yes I am,” she said.

  “The fact that a fraternity was involved had nothing to do with it.”

  “Noooooo,” she said. “Of course not.”

  “You’r
e a terrible liar.”

  “I know. Walk faster. We’re almost there.”

  Several minutes later, my calves were burning from power-walking nearly a full mile in the hooker heels Whitney had loaned me. I was so out of breath I was starting to wheeze. Although I was dreading the party, it was a relief when the Nu Alpha Mu Phi house finally came into view.

  The two-story brick building was one of the smaller houses on the frat quad of campus. To my relief, the party appeared to be a very exclusive, quiet affair. The house wasn’t lit up like a Christmas tree; light shone through two front windows of the downstairs floor and the rest of the house was dark, which made the festivities look even more contained. There was no blaring pop music that I could hear, just the sound of excited chatter among a small crowd of students gathered in the yard and the front porch. Expecting to see the lawn littered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts, I was pleasantly surprised to see how clean the grounds were. I was quickly beginning to like the Nu Alpha Mu Phis. Thus far, all signs indicated that they were a classy group of guys and that this party might not be the disaster I was expecting.

  I followed Whitney up the porch steps and through the front door. She scanned the crowd, found her target and made a beeline across the room. I tagged along at her heels.

  Whitney practically threw herself at the boy, wrapping her arms around his neck as if she’d known him all her life. “Ethan, sweetie,” she purred in her best sex kitten voice, “good to see you again. Thanks for the invite.”

  He gripped her forearms and gently pushed her away. I wasn’t sure if he was put off by Whitney’s aggressiveness, or if her nasty beer breath was the deal breaker, but I could tell from the look on his face that he was far from interested

  I could also see why she had torn across campus at warp speed to get to the party. Ethan West was gorgeous. He stared at me over Whitney’s shoulder and smiled when we made eye contact. Butterflies tickled my belly as I smiled back.

  He was slender, but muscled from head to toe. He had intense brown eyes, a perfect cleft chiseled into his chin and thick, dark hair that I found myself longing to touch. The longer he stared at me, grinning the way he did, the more uncomfortable I began to feel. I stood out like a sore thumb in the room full of curvy blonde Whitney lookalikes, all of whom were smiling and laughing in between sips of beer. Feeling myself blushing, I turned around and pretended to be fascinated by a debate between the two girls in front of me over the merits of thongs versus bikini underwear.

  “Thanks for coming,” I heard Ethan say to Whitney. “Help yourself to another drink in the kitchen.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my best friend stumble as she moved out of the room. The beer she had chugged en route to the frat house had certainly kicked in.

  I felt someone breathing on the back of my neck, and jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. I spun around to face the person behind me.

  “Hi. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ethan.”

  I blinked a couple of times. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jerrika.”

  He reached for my hand and kissed it. My knees knocked together and I found myself wishing that some of Whitney’s self-confidence with boys had rubbed off on me.

  “Jerrika,” he repeated. “That’s a beautiful name.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around campus.”

  I laughed nervously. “I’ve been here all year. I just don’t think our paths have crossed.”

  “Obviously not,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I surely would have noticed you.”

  Right, I wanted say. What exactly would you have noticed? Underneath all of the makeup was my plain-Jane face, and hidden by the bustier was a figure only the Pillsbury Doughboy could love.

  Ethan stepped forward and snaked his arm around my lower back, pulling me closer to him. He leaned into my ear to ask, “Where are you from?”

  “Blue Sky.” I was thankful for the low lighting in the room. Hopefully he hadn’t been able to see that my face had turned a lovely shade of beet red.

  “I’ve heard of it. Small town near the Blue Ridge mountains, right?”

  I nodded and finally mustered enough boldness to ask him a question in return. “What about you?”

  “Atlanta,” he said. “Ever been?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “You should visit sometime. It’s a great city.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Hey, can I get you something to drink?” He nodded toward the kitchen.

  “I’m not a big drinker.” I said, feeling prudish.

  “We’ve got water and sodas. What would you like?”

  “A Diet Coke would be great.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, making his way around the corner. Just then, Whitney staggered toward him, clutching a clear plastic cup full of ice. It was obvious she had already put away yet another alcoholic drink or two.

  “Eeeeeeeeeethan, baby,” she slurred. She threw her arms around his neck, spilling ice all over the floor. “You are such a hottie.” Whitney swayed, nearly falling and taking the frat boy down with her.

  I rushed to her side. “She’s trashed,” I said to Ethan.

  “Hey, don’t talk about me like I’m not… I’m not here,” Whitney stammered. Then her eyes widened. “I need to go to the bath—” she cupped her hand over her mouth.

  “Bathroom… where is it?” I asked Ethan.

  “Walk with me.” He led us down a dark hallway, pushing past partygoers and threw the bathroom door open just in time. I held her hair while she threw up in the toilet. Ethan backed into the hallway and shut the door so Whitney could puke in private.

  “Jer,” she moaned when she was done, “I feel like I’m going to die. And I think I peed in my pants a little.”

  “I tried to warn you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She rested her head on the toilet seat.

  “We should get back to the dorm. I’ll call a cab for us.”

  “Wait,” she said. “Not yet. We just got here. Give me a few minutes to sober up.”

  “It’s going to take a lot more than a few minutes. Why don’t we head back to the dorm? As soon as you’re feeling better, we can come back.”

  “Oh nooooo,” she sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the door of the shower stall. “You wouldn’t come back. You’re trying to trick me. I may be fit-shaced, but I’m not stupid.”

  I flushed the toilet and sat down next to her. “Well pardon me. I’m just trying to help you.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Everything okay in there?”

  “We’re fine,” I responded.

  “Is that him? Is that Ethan?” Whitney asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so freaking embarrassed.”

  “So let’s just go home. You can sleep it off.”

  Whitney groaned. “But I want to hook up with Ethan.”

  “I know you do, but under the circumstances, that would be a really bad idea.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “You’ve had way too much to drink, and you just met the guy… do I really need to keep going? We don’t need to be here. Let’s just go back to the dorm.”

  “No, I’m not ready to go home,” she said, rising to her feet. She wobbled at first, but quickly righted herself and looked in the mirror. Whitney cleared her throat, spit in the sink and wiped smudged mascara from underneath her eyes. “See? Good as new. I feel better already. Let’s get back out there and enjoy the party.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t need to have anything else to drink tonight. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Relax,” she grinned as she opened the door. Ethan was gone, but a half dozen girls were lined up and ready to file in to the vacated bathroom. We squeezed past them and into the crowded hallway.

  “Where did he go?” Whi
tney asked.

  “He’s around here somewhere. Keep looking.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was probably running as far away as he could get from her.

  She was a woman on a mission, elbowing fellow students out of the way. I followed behind her, clutching the hem of her shirt to keep her from losing her. We had almost pushed and shoved our way back into the living room when a door to the right of me opened in the dark hallway. An arm reached out and took hold of mine, yanking me into a bedroom.

  “Hey!” I cried out in surprise.

  I spun around to find Ethan grinning at me. He let go of my arm and shut the door. The room was dark, with a single floor lamp in the corner that cast an amber glow over the king size bed. A large-screen TV was mounted on the wall, and a mini-refrigerator filled the corner opposite the door. Other than a desk on one side of the bed, the room looked more like a luxury studio apartment than typical college student digs.

  I stared at him, confused. “What the –”

  He lunged forward, pressing my body between his own and the closed door. Our faces were only inches apart. We locked eyes and he smiled with satisfaction. “Hello again.”

  I stared at him, trying to hide the fact that my heart was pounding and my stomach had tied itself into knots. “You grabbed the wrong girl.”

  “What do you mean, I grabbed the wrong girl?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “You know, my roommate? Whitney? The gorgeous blonde who’s been hitting on you since we walked in the door? She’s the one who should be standing here, not me.”

  He shook his head. “She’s drunk. And I’m not interested.”

  “That’s right, she’s drunk,” I repeated. “And you should let me out of your room so I can find her and keep her out of trouble this evening.”

  “She’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My brothers will look out for her. I promise you, no guy in this house will lay a finger on her while she’s drunk – unless it’s to keep her from passing out and planting her face on the floor. She’ll be okay,” he reassured me. “I know that most fraternities on campus have a reputation for preying on intoxicated girls at their parties, but it’s just the opposite here. You could say that we’ve taken a vow against it.”