The Sorority Leech Queen Just Got Busted
Fuzzy Melissa · Completed · 7.2k Words
Introduction
The whole room cheered. I kept my eyes on my textbook.
Yesterday she borrowed twenty bucks from me for a salad. Now she's booking a five-thousand-dollar minimum venue? She wanted the black card in my bag.
"Teresa, just lend me your card to get us in the door. I'll cover everything myself." I stared at her for three seconds, then handed it over. Her face lit up.
I stepped away and called the club manager. "Lock my account, highest security tier. Without my verification code, not a single charge goes through."
She took my card and rounded up five girls, headed straight to the club. Champagne, caviar, Wagyu, Louis XIII—she ordered all of it.
When the check came, it totaled fifty-two thousand, three hundred and eighty dollars.
And the card wouldn't go through.
Chapter 1
"Tonight at The Pearl Club, I've reserved the oceanview cabana. Drinks on me, ladies—order whatever you want!"
When Jennifer made this announcement in the Kappa sorority common room, Mia's lipstick froze halfway to her mouth.
Zoe's iced Americano sloshed, drops spattering her yoga pants. She didn't bother wiping them off.
And me? I was the only one who didn't react.
I didn't look up, my eyes still fixed on the margin notes in my economics textbook. Only after the echo of her words had completely faded did I slowly raise my gaze.
The Pearl. Beverly Hills' most exclusive private beach club.
No walk-ins allowed. Only hereditary members or those who could verify assets exceeding fifty million dollars could enter.
Base entry fee: five hundred per person. The cheapest signature cocktail: eighty dollars. Oceanview cabana minimum spend—five thousand dollars.
And standing in the center of the lounge, smiling with studied nonchalance, was Jennifer—the same girl who'd had her card declined at the dining hall yesterday afternoon and borrowed twenty bucks from me for a salad.
"Oh my God! Jennifer, are you serious?"
Mia was the first to recover, squealing as she grabbed Jennifer's arm. "The Pearl! I heard even Hollywood celebrities have to book weeks in advance! You got an oceanview cabana?"
"Oh, it's nothing." Jennifer tossed her carefully extended blonde hair, but her eyes drifted toward me with calculated casualness.
"I have an uncle who's a senior manager there. He gave me some special access. Everyone's been so stressed with midterms—as vice president, I should treat my sisters, right? Teresa, you'll come too?"
She said my name deliberately.
I closed my textbook, studying those eyes full of anticipation and barely concealed excitement.
I knew Jennifer too well.
Three months into the semester, she'd built her persona as the "Silicon Valley nouveau riche only child," while turning freeloading into a competitive sport.
Uber rides were always "Oops, my phone died, Teresa, can you pay? I'll send it to you later"—and then radio silence.
Starbucks runs were perpetually "I only have a hundred-dollar bill and they can't break it, can you cover me?"
This girl who haggled with servers over three-dollar tips—she was treating everyone to The Pearl?
Unless she wasn't planning to use her own money at all.
"I'll pass." I rubbed the bridge of my nose, voice even. "My pollen allergy flared up yesterday. Doctor prescribed antihistamines and told me absolutely no alcohol for three days. I should avoid even ocean breezes. You guys go ahead."
It was true—the red welts from the allergic reaction were still visible on the back of my hand.
But more importantly, I needed a perfect excuse to stay in the dorm.
"Oh? That's too bad." The disappointment on Jennifer's face was faker than a Hollywood extra's death scene, but I caught the flash of triumph in her eyes.
"But Teresa, I heard The Pearl has insane security. Even with a reservation, non-members have trouble getting in."
As she spoke, her eyes flicked to the Birkin beside me, then quickly away.
"My uncle's out of town tonight, so... could I borrow your membership card? Just as a pass to get us through the door. I promise I'll only use it for entry, absolutely won't charge anything to it!"
There it was.
I suppressed a cold laugh. So this was the trap all along.
The Pearl's platinum membership card—my eighteenth birthday gift from Grandfather.
The primary card was held in the family trust in New York. Mine was a linked account card—not only could it grant unlimited guest access, but all charges could be signed directly to my account, settled monthly by the family office.
Last week, while searching for my passport in the dorm, I'd accidentally dropped this card on the carpet. Jennifer happened to see it.
Her eyes had practically bulged out of her head. She'd been fishing for information ever since.
"Just for entry?" I looked at her with faint amusement.
"Absolutely!" Jennifer raised three fingers, face earnest. "I swear! All the charges inside, I'll put on my Amex Platinum. I'm just worried the security won't recognize my uncle's name and it'll ruin everyone's night."
"Teresa, we're in the same house. You wouldn't refuse to help with something this small, would you?"
Mia and Zoe immediately chimed in:
"Exactly, Teresa. You're not even going." Mia blinked innocently. "Unless... you just don't want to share?"
Zoe added her barb: "Jennifer already said she's paying for everything herself. You're acting so protective of one card, it kind of makes you look cheap."
Classic guilt trip. Jennifer's signature move.
Generous with other people's money. My card, her clout.
If I refused now, by tomorrow the entire sorority would be buzzing about "Teresa the cheapskate who's jealous of Jennifer."
My fingers tightened reflexively around my bag before slowly relaxing. I pulled out my card wallet and extracted the heavy platinum card.
I didn't hand it over immediately. Just looked at her. Three seconds. Her smile started to crack at the edges.
"Fine." I finally spoke, holding the card out.
Jennifer's breathing visibly quickened. She snatched the card, fingers trembling slightly with excitement.
"Thank you, Teresa! You're such a good person. Don't worry, I'll return it first thing tomorrow morning!"
She spun on her heel and left, calling Mia and Zoe to go change, leaving behind a wake of barely contained glee.
"Have fun." I watched her eager retreat, the corner of my mouth curving into an imperceptible smile.
She probably had no idea that The Pearl's membership card didn't require a card reader at all.
You simply handed the card to a server, stated the cardholder's name, and every charge was billed directly to my account.
Her so-called "just for entry" was clearly a plan to make me the fool paying her bills.
I pulled out my phone and looked at Jennifer's Snapchat story, posted moments ago—a partial close-up of The Pearl membership card, captioned:
[just another Tuesday in LA with my favorites 🥂✨]
Below it, a flood of awestruck comments and fawning replies from her followers.
Expression blank, I took a screenshot. Then I dialed a number I knew by heart.
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