Bad Son Rising (7 page)

Schooner nodded at his son, but didn’t speak.

The cold blue eyes, the flaring nostrils, the muscles in his neck tight wound cords. Zac had seen it before. Not often. But he had seen it. You did not want to get Schooner Moore this mad.

“Have a seat,” the dean was saying to Zac, although he could hardly hear him, his father’s silent rage was deafening.

His cell phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down quickly. There was a long text from Brian. All he could catch in the brief glimpse was the first line, “I’m on probation” and Zac took a deep breath.
Ok, probation’s not too bad,
he thought. But something wasn’t adding up. Why would his dad be here for that? Things like probation were a given with Zac.

Zac was smart enough to know not to speak. Silently, he sat there as the dean pulled out folders and forms. It was the forms that scared him the most. This was big. They were making him sign things and his father had not spoken a single word to him.

“I think you know why we’re here,” the dean began.

“I’d appreciate some specifics,” Zac hadn’t meant for it to come out with attitude, but it had.

“Fine,” the dean smirked, “specifics you will get.” Opening a manila folder, he pulled out a typed document, several pages, stapled and made a show out of leafing through them.

Zac was tempted to tell the man to just fucking get on with it, but knew that was akin to shoveling himself in deeper.

“Let’s begin with the illegal betting on college and professional football and basketball.”

Zac shrugged, insolently.

“Any comment?” the dean seemed clearly surprised that Zac was not vehemently denying the charges or begging for mercy.

“No,” he shook his head.

“What the hell were you doing?” his father spoke for the first time.

Turning to his dad and looking him square in the eye, “Nothing anyone involved didn’t want to be doing.”

“Let’s talk about your second business. The prostitution service.” The dean was chomping at the bit.

Zac’s head whipped around to look at the dean. With brows drawn tightly together, “With all due respect, sir, you need to get your facts straight because you have been grossly misinformed, and I would’ve hoped that you would have had a conversation with me directly, prior to having my father drive five hours and it getting to this point based on erroneous information.”

“Zac,” Schooner’s voice was stern.

“No, Dad,” Zac was now angry. “When I’m guilty, I’ll be man enough to take the heat, but I don’t appreciate being wrongly accused.”

“So, you are saying that you were not running a prostitution service?” the dean’s tone was patronizing.

“That is correct, sir. And I am sure your main source for evidence actually had an ulterior motive in all of this.”

The dean was not going to be told by an arrogant undergrad that he was wrong or hadn’t done a thorough enough investigation, even if said undergrad’s father was paying full tuition for his overtly privileged son.

Pulling out what looked to Zac like a contract, the dean began, “For over 150 years, Bryson College has prided itself on providing an exemplary secondary education and graduating leaders in industry and the arts. Our reputation is of the utmost importance to the student body, faculty and alumni, as I’m sure is your father’s reputation as a businessman and a humanitarian.”

You little fuckwad, piece of shit, douche monkey, bald headed asshole, threatening my father’s reputation.
Zac was livid, but kept a neutral face, not wanting to give the man anymore satisfaction than he was already getting.

“In return for keeping this out of the press and ensuring that the matter is closed,” he pushed the paper across his desk to Zac, “we are calling for your expulsion from Bryson College, effective immediately.”

“But we’re a week away from finals,” Zac protested. “Can I at least finish or somehow take my finals and get grades for the semester?”

“We have paid for the semester in full,” Schooner reminded the man.

The dean sat back and thought for a second, he clearly had not considered that this would be requested. “I’m sure we can make an arrangement for you to take finals in a proctored environment.”

Signing the document before him and passing it over to his father, “Good. Because I’m clearly on track to make Dean’s List this semester.” Zac smiled at the man.

As they exited his office, the dean threw out what amounted to an unwarranted fishing expedition, “It’s a shame that you and Brian got yourselves involved in such uncomely activities.”

Knowing that Brian had not been expelled, Zac was not going to fall for the transparent attempt to get him to rat on his roommate.

Passing through the doorway, Zac stopped dead in his tracks and the dean plowed right into him. Zac couldn’t suppress his smile at nearly knocking the smaller man on his ass.

Turning to the dean, “Brian? Brian wasn’t involved in any of this,” he lied with ease. And he left it at that, knowing anything more he said might negate the sincerity and credibility of the last statement. There was no way he was taking his buddy down.

Word amongst the friends was already out and they were waiting, crowded in the door of the dorm room when Zac and Schooner arrived. Arms flew around Zac, and tears were shed, cries of “I can’t believe this is happening,” “This is so unfair,” reverberated down the hall.

With each mounting accolade it was clear that Zac’s father was getting angrier and angrier with both his son and his son’s friends.

“Mr. Moore, I really need to speak to you,” a young woman touched his arm. Dragging him down the hall, away from Zac’s room, “I’m Tara. Liz’s roommate.” She searched his eyes, but he was giving away nothing. “I don’t know what you were told, but Zac hasn’t done anything wrong, Mr. Moore. I’m going to be able to go to grad school because of him, because he helped me out.”

“And you saw nothing wrong with what you were doing? Taking money from men.” Schooner appeared totally perplexed by the conversation.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Tara repeated. “You should be proud of Zac. He’s an amazing friend. He’s giving, and selfless and creative. He wanted to do the right thing.”

“Starting a gambling business and an escort service? The right things?” Schooner shook his head, “Tara, the future is a scary place when your generation looks to my son as the moral compass.”

“You’re wrong, Mr. Moore.”

“Well, I hope you are right, Tara. I hope you are right,” and he left her in the hall, heading back to Zac’s room.

Zac’s dorm mates cleared out as his father entered the room. Schooner cut an imposing figure, and the small dorm room became significantly smaller when occupied by the two Moore men and the heavy air that hung between them.

“We’ve hit some pretty low spots, Zac, and this is right there with the best of them,” Schooner’s jaw was tight. “How much lower are you going to sink, hmm?”

Zac didn’t answer his father, at least not verbally. His eyes spoke volumes, overflowing with self-loathing and resignation. His usual defiance was nowhere to be found.

Liz stood in the doorway watching the exchange. Why couldn’t Mr. Moore see Zac? Why couldn’t he see what she and their friends saw — this amazing guy — so willing to lend a hand or do what he could to put a smile on someone’s face?

“You don’t understand…” she couldn’t continue her silence.

“Oh trust me, I understand all right.”

“With all due respect, no, you don’t, Mr. Moore.”

“Liz, don’t.” Zac held up his hand indicating that she should stop.

But she was beyond stopping, “You don’t know Zac at all. Not the Zac we know. He would do anything to help a friend. That’s what this was all about. He just wanted to help Tara with grad school.”

Schooner’s tone was terse, “With all due respect,” he threw her words back at her, “maybe I know my son a bit better than you do.”

Liz was shaking her head vigorously as tears flew off her cheeks, “No, you don’t or you’d be defending him now.”

Schooner leveled Liz a glance that made her catch her breath before addressing his son again, “Finish packing. I’ll be waiting in the car.” He’d had enough of Zac’s friends depicting him as some sort of Robin Hood. Turning on his heel, he walked past Liz out of the room.

“I can’t believe that.” Liz stood there in shock.

Zac sat down on his bed, “I’ve put him through the ringer on more than one occasion, Liz. He’s been a better father than I’ve been a son. I know it’s been a string of disappointments for him. Maybe he’s just finally reached the end of his rope with me.”

“We’ve all done fucked up shit.” Liz sat down on Brian’s bed facing Zac.

Zac smiled his beautiful smile, “Yeah, but I kind of set the bar.

Liz raised her eyebrows, urging him to elaborate.

“I almost killed his wife and my little brother when I got into this thing with her and she fell backwards down a huge flight of stairs when she was pregnant with Nathaniel. I overdosed and he missed Nathaniel’s birth because of it, he found out that I’d had sex with three of my mother’s friends senior year when I was home for a semester and now I get kicked out of college,” and with a wry laugh, “and that’s only the stuff he knows.”

Liz was silent for a moment, processing Zac’s list of infractions. Her smile appeared as if she’d just remembered a joke. “At least you’re not boring. Now that would have truly been a crime.”

As she watched Zac pack his belongings, reality sunk in. “What am I going to do here without you?”

He wanted to tell her that she was the best friend he’d ever had in his life, that she understood him better than anyone, and that he too could not imagine a day without her in it. He longed to say that he was going to miss her, that he felt like he was losing a part of himself.

“I dunno,” he continued to pack, already feeling alone and grieving the loss of a life he had really loved.

Brian helped him out to the car with the last of his belongings. “So the word is that it was Prescott.”

“We already knew that,” Zac shrugged.

“Want me to do anything about it?” Brian asked in slightly more than a whisper.

Nodding, “Three things,” Zac advised.

“Name it.”

“Beat him to within an inch of his life. Tell him I carved my initials into the insides of Britt’s thighs. And don’t get caught.”

“Done, done and done.” Brian promised, his eyes glinting.

And with a final fist bump, the hot boy roommate team of Zac Moore and Brian Brown officially ended.

He felt them climb up onto his bed, trying their hardest to stifle irrepressible giggles. Every morning over the summer they’d had a routine. First he’d open one eye and look at Natie, then he’d open the other eye and look at Po. Their huge smiles were the most amazing thing to wake up to every morning. They looked like night and day. Po with her big soulful brown eyes and ebony skin and Natie with his sky blue eyes and blonde curls. He’d close his eyes back up, pretending he’d fallen back to sleep, and then would grab the two of them and their giggles and kicking would become uncontrollable.

They hadn’t been expecting him home just quite yet, so this was a treat for the kids. Zac decided to change up the routine a little this morning and didn’t open his eyes at all. He could feel their eyes on him, staring at him. Willing him to wake up.

With the surprise of a serpent striking, his arms shot out, each grabbing one of them. They shrieked with delight as he pulled them down onto either side of his chest.

“Heckle and Jeckle, what are you doing here?”

They loved his nickname for them and immediately began crawling all over him.

“Where’s my hello kiss?” he asked and the two complied, before laying a head on each of his muscular shoulders. Becoming a big brother for the first time at seventeen rocked his world. Never before had he felt so truly loved and adored. The way these two looked up to him and wanted to be everywhere that he was made Zac feel like he was part of something very special. Being their older brother was like a secret club that only the three of them would ever have admission to and he would always be the club’s leader.