by Katie Ashey
Jonathan grimaced. “That would be the Academic Honors Dinner.” When I blinked at him in confusion, Jonathan added, “It’s where a bunch of professors get together and have dinner to celebrate that they’re done teaching dumbasses like us for the year.”
“They also give an achievement award, and this year it’s going to Dr. Cocksucker,” Brandon piped up as he shoved a box in the cab of his truck.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Sorry, bro, but it’s true.”
Jonathan shook his head at Brandon. “How the hell do you know this?”
Brandon glanced over his shoulder to give us a shit-eating grin. “I banged one of the TAs from the math department two nights ago. She was all in a panic when she overslept because she had to go work on the decorations.”
“Shoulda known it had something to do with pussy,” Jonathan mused.
“Holy shit!” I suddenly cried. My body tingled like I’d been hit with a taser—and yes, I knew what that felt like from firsthand knowledge, but that’s another story for another day.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Brandon asked.
At first, I didn’t answer him; I was too busy processing the idea that had just hit me. It was one I probably wouldn’t have entertained had I been sober, though that’s not to say I haven’t done some stupid shit when I wasn’t plastered.
I waggled my brows at Jonathan and Brandon. “Who’s up for some streaking?”
Brandon, who’d had the least to drink out of the three of us, stopped his OCD double-checking of the boxes in the back of the pickup truck and whirled around. “Did you just say streaking?”
I clapped my hands together. “Hell yeah.”
His blond brows crinkled. “Through the empty dorms?”
“Nope.” I threw an arm around his shoulder. “I was thinking more about through the honors dinner to ruin Dr. Cocksucker’s big night.”
While Brandon appeared horrified, Jonathan busted out laughing. “Dude, that’s epic!”
“Isn’t it?”
While Jonathan nodded, Brandon shook his head. “This is a bad, bad idea—like one of the worst you’ve ever had, and that’s saying a hell of a lot.”
“Oh come on, man. Live a little.”
“And what happens when your bare ass gets caught?”
I whipped my shirt over my head. “I won’t get caught.”
“Newsflash, ace: they’re gonna see your face along with your ass,” Brandon countered.
“Well, duh, I’m not gonna let them see my face. Unless they’ve got cameras in the locker room, they’ll never be able to identify my ass.”
“Just how are you going to do that?”
I lumbered over to the cab of the truck and thrust my hand into the box Brandon had taken special care to put up front so nothing would happen to it. After rustling around in the box, I grabbed out his Dark Vader mask—the one Jonathan and I gave him shit for treasuring.
Holding it up, I said, “I’ll be wearing this.”
Brandon’s eyes widened. “Dude, you know that’s not to play with.”
Jonathan snorted. “You sound like a five-year-old.”
“I’m serious. It’s memorabilia, not a toy.”
Rolling my eyes, I replied, “Jesus, Brand, you’re an epic buzz-killer.”
Brandon held his hands up to signal a timeout. “Come on. Let’s just go back inside, finish the pizza, and sober up. Then if you’re still hell-bent on revenge, we can find another way to get back at Dr. Cocksucker, one that doesn’t involve you getting in trouble. Something slightly more…anonymous.”
I wasn’t sure if he was actually concerned about me getting in trouble or if his concern was more about anything happening to his precious Darth Vader mask. “Nope. It’s on.”
When Brandon opened his mouth to once again protest, I broke into a sprint over to the building. Of course, in my state, I ran like a kid coloring outside the lines. After cracking open the main door, I stuck my head inside and peered around to see if the coast was clear. The lobby was a ghost town except for two stiff-looking women at the check-in table. Everyone was already inside the ballroom.
It was now or never. It took me twice as long as usual to get my shorts off my hips. Usually I can get those off in record speed, especially if I’m about to unleash the beast for some sex action, but being plastered, I ended up staggering around to catch my balance. Once I had righted myself, I slid on the Darth Vader mask. It took me a few seconds to get my bearings with the mask on. Once I could breathe and see, I threw open the door.
One of the women at the table shrieked and clutched her chest while the other one rose out of her chair. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Dr. Higgins sucks mega cock!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I barreled past them.
“Get back here!” the woman hissed.
I opened the ballroom door and charged inside. Through the mask, I could see about twenty round tables set up with white linen tablecloths, fine china, and crystal. On the stage, a few musicians screeched bows across the strings of violins and a cello. Ugh. It was a total pile of pretentious shit, which I knew all too well from my father’s world of political fundraising dinners.
The pairing of a woman’s scream and a man shouting “What the hell?” alerted everyone to my presence. I threw a hand in the air and fist pumped. “Dr. Higgins sucks mega cock!” I shouted again. A couple people in line for the buffet dropped their plates as I streaked by, which caused me to start laughing—like really crazy, maniacal laughter, the kind that would scare small children or get you institutionalized.
In my lunacy, I realized it was time to get the hell out of there. My attention was drawn to the door with the gleaming EXIT sign. It loomed in the distance like the end zone on the football field.
I almost made it, but I hadn’t expected my sneaker to get lodged in an audio visual chord someone had tried to conceal under a rug.
“Fuck!” I grunted as I went flying through the air. The plastic Darth Vader Mask did little to protect me as I crashed at full speed into the metal door that also happened to be locked. A flash of light accompanied a searing pain in my head before everything went dark.
CHAPTER ONE
CADE
Sometimes you just know you’re thoroughly and completely fucked. The mind-numbing, stomach-clenching dread slowly creeps over you until your entire body is drowning in it. It’s all encompassing, and you can’t shake out of it. You can try counting to ten, taking deep, cleansing breaths, or even going all kooky trying to find your zen, but there’s no way in hell you’re shaking that feeling.
It’s the same dread as when you’re down by thirty at the half, and it would take a miracle to pull a victory out of your team’s ass. You know with absolute certainty you’ll be trudging into the locker room with your tail between your legs.
That’s exactly how I felt sitting in a hard-as-hell plastic chair outside the office of the dean of athletics at Georgia Tech. As my shoes drummed a rhythmic, anxious tapping on the floor, my mother placed a hand on my knee. “Cade.”
My toe tapping ceased at her admonishment. After being momentarily blinded by all the bling on her hand, I glanced up at her. A tight smile formed on the face that had been perfectly sculpted by one of the finest plastic surgeons in Georgia.
“It will be fine.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she gave a jerk of her blonde head. “Doesn’t your father always make things right?”
I couldn’t argue with her on that one, especially as a shit-ton of scenarios of me with my ass in a bind ran through my mind. In a weird way, my father was like my knight in shining armor when it came to getting me out of trouble. As a former corporate litigator, he sure as hell knew how to put forth a good argument. Now as a representative in the Georgia House, he had the power to pull strings if it came down to it.
On this particular day I needed his mad litigating skills more than ever before, and if necessary for him to pull strings like a fu
cking puppet master. The fate of my entire life was being decided within the walls of the dean’s office—well, it was really more the fate of my football career that was on the line. Considering I lived and breathed for the sport, I wasn’t exaggerating too much to say it was my life—at least it was until I finished undergrad. Then it was on to medical school.
I needed football like I needed air. It was the one true escape and high for me—to be more accurate, one of the escapes and highs for me, after drinking and sex. Although there were rules and a coach and teammates giving orders, I never felt freer than I did when I was playing football.
My mother pinned me with her blue eyes, the very ones I had inherited from her. “Of course, we both hoped that by now you would’ve ceased making such foolish and childish decisions. You’re twenty-one now, Cade, a young man. You shouldn’t be exhibiting the same irresponsible behavior you did as a teenager.”
“It was just a little revenge prank. It’s not like when I hacked into Dr. Emerson’s laptop back in high school,” I protested.
I mean, call me crazy, but I never imagined that a simple act of streaking would have my ass in such hot water. By the way Tech’s athletic office was acting, you would have thought I’d set fire to the banquet hall rather than just flashing my junk. They obviously were a bunch of old farts with no sense of humor.
My mother opened her mouth to argue when the dean’s voice rose loud enough for us to hear. “Representative Hall, by continuing to seek leniency, you seem utterly flippant about the complete disregard and respect for authority your son has illustrated. Hear me for the last time: the punishment this committee has agreed on will stand, or your son will receive a lifetime ban from the program.”
Holy shit. The word punishment was bad enough, but banned from football? No more endorphin rush as I ran out onto the field to the roar of the crowd and the brass of the band. No more feeling the buzz of adrenaline as I executed a play. No more hero worship from undergraduates when I walked around campus. A lifetime ban meant I wouldn’t enjoy any alumni benefits either. I wouldn’t get to sit in box seats and muse with fellow teammates about how we were so much better back in the day.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Fuck,” I muttered.
“Watch your language!” my mother hissed.
“There will be no further discussion on the matter!” A fist banged against hard wood. “Mrs. Murphy, bring him in now.”
I’d barely had time to process what I had just overheard when the office door swung open. A middle-aged secretary beckoned me in with a quick flick of her wrist. “They’re ready to see you now, Mr. Hall.”
Since no one ever referred to me as “Mr. Hall”, I remained seated in a stunned stupor, and I probably would have remained that way if my mother hadn’t jabbed me in the side with her bony elbow.
“Cade, get up!”
I shot out of my seat and hotfooted it into the dean’s office. Once inside, I skidded to a stop at the sight of not only the athletic board, but a sour-faced Dr. Cocksucker. When my gaze bounced over to my father’s, the look in his eyes caused me to swallow hard. Oh yeah. I was in deep, deep shit.
Dr. McKensie, the dean of athletics, motioned to the empty seat next to my father. “Please sit down, Mr. Hall.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
After I eased down into the chair, I threw an uneasy glance at Dean McKensie, who was still standing. Both his expression and the way he was looming over me caused me to shift nervously in my chair.
He took off his wiry glasses and placed them on the table in front of him. “Your father tells us you’ve come here today to sincerely apologize for your actions and to plead for our forgiveness.”
“Yes sir, I have.”
“I can’t help but find that very telling of your character.”
I scrunched my brows in confusion as I leaned forward in my chair. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think I understand what you mean. I thought I was here because you wanted my apology.”
“What I meant is I find it interesting that only now are you apologetic. You’ve had an entire week to apologize to us—to plead for forgiveness.” Dr. McKensie narrowed his eyes at me. “Why is it you’ve waited until today?”
With a shrug, I replied a little sarcastically, “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe because this was the day of my hearing.” When the members of the board glanced at each other, I softened my tone and added, “What I meant to say is today is when it mattered.”
“It’s mattered every day, Cade,” Dr. McKensie replied.
Okay, this guy’s holier-than-thou bullshit was really starting to piss me off. “Look, I was just doing what I was told to do.”
“Exactly. I’m sure within an hour of the incident, your father and his handlers were guiding you through exactly what to say and do.”
I tilted my head in thought. “Actually, it was more like I was in the ER an hour later making sure I didn’t have a concussion.”
Dr. McKensie pinched his lips together so tightly they turned white. “Perhaps it was after your recovery?”
“Well, yeah. What does that matter?”
“It matters a great deal, Mr. Hall. It shows me that you are unrepentant for disgracing Dr. Higgins’s honor dinner. You are only apologizing now because you have been told that is what we want to hear. Moreover, you think an apology will save you from being expelled from the football program.”
“I guess.” When Dr. McKensie shook his head disapprovingly, I knew I had to start backpedaling. “Look, I am sorry, totally and completely sorry. It was a very stupid and immature thing for me to do, an act of alcohol-induced stupidity. If I had an issue with my grade, I should have made an appointment with Dr. Higgins to discuss it.”
Bobbing his head, Dr. McKensie replied, “Yes, Cade. That is exactly what you should have done.”
I threw a satisfied smile over at my father. I hoped he was glad I had managed to repeat the story we had gone over. He only gave me an exasperated sigh. Okay, so apparently he was less than thrilled with my performance. I don’t know why I was surprised; there was seriously no pleasing my father. He was Mr. Perfect, and he expected his wife to be perfect along with his two children. They had managed to program the perfection into my older sister, but sadly, I hadn’t quite mastered it. Even though I was a starting running back at Tech that usually made all As, I was still a fuck-up.
“So you do see that I’m sorry, right?” I questioned.
Dr. McKensie gave the same exasperated sigh my father had a moment before. “While you see the error of your ways, your actions still tarnished our university. Our football players are supposed to be leaders on and off the field, but regardless of the negative reflection on our program, it is you I am most concerned about.” Dr. McKensie finally eased down into the leatherback chair behind him. “You have great promise, Cade.”
I snorted. “Yeah, tell that to Dr. Higgins over there who gave me the first C of my life.”
Dr. Higgins shook his head. “I don’t ‘give’ grades, Mr. Hall. Students earn their grades, and while it might be hard for your inflated ego to grasp, you did, indeed, earn a C.”
My fists clenched in my lap, and I fought the urge to leap out of my chair and across the table to smack the smug look off his face. “Whatever,” I mumbled.
“Do you have any idea how blessed you are?” Dr. McKensie questioned. At first, his question took me off guard, and I was unable to reply. Then when I truly thought about what he was saying, I rolled my eyes and refused to look at him.
“You shouldn’t respond to that statement so flippantly, but your reaction reiterates the sentiment that you haven’t dealt with much of the world outside your social circle. You haven’t had to see how harsh and devastating the world can be. You are unable to be grateful for the fact that besides being born into privilege, you have been gifted with both mental and physical abilities. While you excel at academics and football, you are morally and ethically bankrupt.”
“Enough!” my
father bellowed. He leaned forward in his chair and jabbed a finger at Dr. McKensie. “I will not sit by and let you continue making my son your moral whipping boy. Get to the point and tell him his punishment.”
Dr. McKensie stared my father down for a moment before exhaling. “Fine.” He then turned his attention back to me. “Cade, are you familiar at all with The Ark?”
Before I could make some smartass remark about only knowing Noah’s Ark, my father anticipated me. He gave a quick jerk of his head before throwing me a death glare. “No sir, I’m not.”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with Atlanta’s hometown sports hero, Amad Carlson?”
Just the mention of that name piqued my interest, and I leaned forward in my chair. “Amad Carlson who played for the Atlanta Falcons and shattered NFL records in rushing touchdowns?”
“Yes, that Amad Carlson. Ten years ago, he built a center where at-risk teenagers could go after school and during the summers. He dubbed it The Ark because he wanted a place for teens to find shelter from the dangers of the streets like drugs and gang violence.”
I nodded; I vaguely remembered reading an article in Sports Illustrated about Amad’s charity work. Although nowadays his multimillion dollar contract with the Atlanta Falcons meant he lived in a gated mansion off posh West Paces Ferry Rd, he hadn’t forgotten his teenage years when he and his mother lived in some of the local homeless shelters. He was a hell of a stand-up guy to invest millions into the place that had once been a YMCA.
Dr. McKensie drew in a breath before speaking. “Since your father confirmed that you don’t have a summer job, we have found you one at The Ark. You will be working forty-hour weeks for the entirety of the summer. You won’t have a set schedule so it won’t interfere with your practice schedule.”
I held my breath, waiting for the punchline. “Excuse me, did you just say my punishment is a job?”
“Yes, Mr. Hall. I did.”
“But I’ve never had a job before.”
Dr. McKensie gave me a tight smile. “As the old adage goes, there’s a first time for everything.”