Page 37 of To Have and To Hold
“What does that say?” Reese asked, leaning forward to read the words on the front of the shirt.
“Scorekeeper for the eggplants,” Z read aloud.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to call it an eggplant,” Slade told him.
“Why?” Z gestured toward the purple image. “It’s an eggplant.”
“It’s a euphemism for penis,” Evan said, deadpan.
“So I’m keepin’ score for the penises?” Z frowned, then looked at Reese and Brantley.
Reese saw the moment it registered.
“Aww, fuck that.”
A round of laughter caused the people around them to look over. Thank God no kids were lingering in the vicinity.
“Who was second to last?” Atticus asked.
“Evan.”
Evan was instantly shaking his head. “Do not—”
He was cut off when Atticus tossed a white T-shirt his way.
Evan held up the shirt so no one else could read what was on the front, but the back had a large 2 printed on it.
“Just get it over with,” Trey told his former partner.
Evan slowly turned it around, and Reese was positive his cheeks were turning pink.
“In charge of the losing eggplants,” Evan read, then glared at Slade. “I’m not saying penises.”
Reese nearly fell over when Griffin snorted and bent over, laughing like a hyena.
Atticus turned his attention back to the page. “Damn, Z, you dodged a bullet by wearin’ those jeans.” He looked at Evan. “As the team leader for the losing penises, you have to perform every task worth more than fifteen points on the scavenger hunt list.”
Evan looked horrified. “What’s on the list?”
“You don’t wanna know,” Atticus tossed back. “And since I came in first, I have to wear—” He pulled another shirt out and unfolded it.
The back had a 1 printed on it, and the front…
Brantley fell over, bumping into Reese as he barked a laugh that echoed around them.
“Overachieving penis,” Slade read aloud, using the euphemism for the eggplant image.
“And you thought the hats were bad,” Brantley said in a mock whisper.
Showing he was a good sport, Atticus dragged his shirt on over his other shirt before reaching into the bag and producing another. He glanced at the front, grinned, and tossed it to Baz.
“Head eggplant in charge,” Baz read. “Son of a bitch.”
“Tell me I lucked out by bein’ in the middle of the pack,” Griffin said, watching Atticus.
“No one’s that lucky,” Atticus told him, then began pulling shirts out and tossing them to everyone. “Trade with whoever they belong to. In order of how you finished the race.”
“Are youkiddin’me?” Luca grumbled, holding up the shirt. “Why’s my penis so damn small?”
