4. Jason
4
JASON
I woke up Tuesday morning still hungover from the weekend.
I’m getting too old for this shit.
As I lay in bed, my arm draped over my eyes so I wouldn’t have to tolerate the brightness of whatever sunlight dared to encroach past the tiny slit between my curtains, I regretted every second of my usual mantra.
Fuck this.
That was the sole thought I circled back to all weekend.
I was only twenty-fucking-three. I wasn’t old. But after five years of prolonging my “education” here on campus, after five years of maintaining my legendary status as the ultimate source of fun and mayhem, I had to admit that I was abusing myself. The wear and tear of partying so hard—without breaks or even decent sleep—was getting to me.
As I lay there and dreaded getting up, though, it wasn’t the physical turmoil of too much booze, too little food, and pathetically shitty rest that I had to blame.
It was that goddamn letter.
I’d opened it yesterday, skimming over the summons to report to the dean’s office.
Seeing that it was, indeed, the same old shit, I ignored it and joined my frat brothers in welcoming a bachelorette group who’d heard about us. That was how fantastic my parties were here. Even adults from town wanted in.
I also ignored coming to the meeting scheduled for yesterday, passed out with a pair of twins in bed with me. I’d really reached a new low when I hadn’t even fucked them. They passed out first, and I was glad I didn’t have to stay awake to fuck them.
Sitting up, I rubbed my face and worried about what was happening to me.
Not wanting to have a couple of twins?
Feeling old?
This wasn’t me.
I squinted and scowled at the wall, hating that a piece of paper could twist me up like this. Getting caught was something I’d skirted with finesse all my life. Call me spoiled. Call me entitled. Both were fucking true. With unlimited money and parents who didn’t want to bother with parenting, what else was supposed to happen?
It wasn’t so much that I was expected to answer for my misconduct. It was the fact that he was the one to demand my presence for discipline.
Chen.
As a rebel, I was supposed to hate authority. I resisted those who tried to tell me what to do—and that was both because I was a spoiled ass and because I was a twentysomething who thought he could call the shots. I wasn’t na?ve. I knew I had my head up my ass. It was a fact that I didn’t see any reason to change yet.
But Chen? Fucking Dean Chen had to be the one to try to heel me and call me into his office?
That was rubbing goddamn salt in the wound.
After what happened to my brother William, I’d developed an instinct to curl my lip and embrace total fury just at the mention of the name.
Dean Chen can kiss my ass.
Dean Chen can go to hell.
Fuck him. Fuck them all.
He’s not going to destroy my life like he destroyed ? —
Before I could think, I punched the wall and growled.
Don’t. Don’t go there. Don’t think about it.
It was too fucking early to be this angry and try to bottle it all in. And it was way too early to drink into oblivion to avoid thinking at all. Forcing all thoughts about William to the back of my mind, for now, I gritted my teeth and massaged the knuckles that stung from the hit on the drywall.
Another hole to fill. Fucking great.
I scoffed as I headed to the bathroom to shower. The hot water almost made me feel human again, but it was the growls from my stomach that prompted me to go downstairs.
Down there, I found Rory and Dennis looking much more alive than they had any right to. Bastards. Then again, I had taken more shots than them last night.
“Dude, you gotta go talk to the dean,” Kevin said as he joined us, yawning but awake enough to look alarmed.
“Wait.” Dennis put his coffee down. “Didn’t you have your meeting yesterday?”
I shrugged and got a mug for coffee, the blacker and bitterer, the better. “I was supposed to.”
“Fuck, man,” Rory said. “We know how much you hate Chen, but you can’t blow this off.”
“Oh, I can’t?” I retorted.
“No. I heard they’re cracking down on the fraternities now. They’re going to disband them all if they keep fucking around this much.” Kevin gestured at the kitchen, empty of the partiers who’d had this place hopping last night. “And that could happen to us, too. If you blow off Chen, that’s more attention we don’t need.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to lose what we’ve got going on here,” Dennis added.
I rolled my eyes. “Since when did you become such fucking whiny drama queens?” I sipped my coffee, counting on the burn and heat to make me wake up more. “I’m going today, all right? They emailed me a rescheduled meeting for this morning.”
I bet they made the meeting so early just to piss me off, too.
Before my frat brothers could worry or bitch and moan any more, I took my coffee with me as I headed toward the dean’s office. I lost track of all the deans. This place had so many departments with different people as the head of them. If anyone were to ask me, the administration was way too top-heavy to be sustainable, but it was only Dean Chen who angered me like no other.
I walked into the suite of offices, head held high and not bothering to lose my swagger. They could call me cocky all they wanted. I was, and I wasn’t ashamed to show it.
These fusty old assholes didn’t scare me.
“Mr. Reeves,” an assistant said when I showed up and announced who I was here to speak with. He didn’t even flinch when I referred to his boss as fucking Dean Chen . “Right this way. They’re expecting you.”
They?
Normally, it was just Dean Chen. I looked forward to another faculty member to harass.
In the conference room, I spotted the dean, pompous and polished as ever. The man looked like a rigid statue and had a personality to match. Next to him was another man in a suit who looked like he was never patient. But the secretary pouring coffee for them, she got my smile.
“Hey, Stella. Long time, no see.” I waited until she blushed at me before scampering out of there.
“No need to hurry away. Will we see you at the next party?” I asked, loving how embarrassed she was to have come to my Professors’ Nightmares party last year. She’d looked fantastic riding my dick that night.
That was how little I worried here. I might be a pain in the ass, but everyone fucking loved me. People from town wanted to visit the frat house. Even the faculty on campus were tempted.
I wasn’t here to get love, though.
As I narrowed my eyes at Dean Chen, I remembered my goal to make him suffer however I could. And I wasn’t leaving until I accomplished that. Making Chen pay was the least that I could do in vengeance for William.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked as I pulled out a chair to sit. They’d only get one version of me—rude and smug.
“Cut the shit, kid,” the other man said. He spoke with a no-nonsense tone like I was a soldier in the military.
“Well, hello to you too,” I quipped.
“Mr. Reeves,” Dean Chen said in his cool, monotone style as he gestured at the other man, “allow me to introduce you to the new assistant dean, Mr. Gormer.”
“Allow you?” I scoffed. “I didn’t realize you were so hell-bent on being consensual.”
Mr. Gormer didn’t budge. He was more of a gargoyle than Chen, and I wasn’t sure how to consider that. It hardly mattered. This new guy wouldn’t change anything. I’d blow him off just the same. He’d learn sooner or later that I was untouchable.
“Let me guess,” I said, drawling like it was such a chore to be here. I didn’t want to sit around and waste time, after all. “You’re concerned about the recent extracurricular activities at my frat house?—”
“Belle Ramirez has declined to press charges, so no, you cocky son-of-a-bitch, that’s not why you’re here,” Mr. Gormer said. “We are here to discuss the other allegations of more misconduct at your ‘parties’ and your failing grades.”
He just had to use air quotes, as if to mock my parties.
I clenched my teeth, perturbed that this assistant asshole could play hardball in a way Dean Chen never did. Still, that stoic man was the source of my wrath. He always would be.
Figuring they needed to feel self-important via lecturing, I sat through the meeting while they both listed and showed documentation of all these rumors about misconduct and reports of my low grades.
Without a single reaction, I gave them a chance to air their grievances, silently blowing them off and waiting for them to get through their spiel. Once they did, I smiled.
“Chen,” I said calmly, “you know the deal. Tell me how much and I’ll get a check to you this afternoon.” Putting my hands on the table, I got ready to stand and leave.
“Not so fast,” Mr. Gormer said.
I raised my brows. “I realize you’re new and all, but this is how it goes. Count on a donation this afternoon, and we’ll sweep this under the rug.”
“You misinterpreted the reason for this meeting,” Dean Chen said in his too-cool tone, like nothing would ever make him sweat. He thought he had all the power, but I was determined to ruin that belief.
I sat back, sighing. “What, you want to try to make me cry? You want a sappy apology? Come on, I’ve got other things to do.”
“Oh?” Mr. Gormer sat back, at ease. “Like what?”
I stared him down, furious when he only smiled.
“I won’t take your crap like my colleague has been forced to,” he said in reference to Dean Chen. “I am new to the job and I haven’t yet had to suffer the inconvenience of getting to know you personally.”
Fuck you, asshole.
“But enlighten me. At this point, I’m merely curious. Why do you even bother? You’re failing. You only care about being the lord of the party, known as the fun hot-shot.”
“Well, don’t be jealous now,” I replied coolly.
“Jealous of a spoiled asshole who’s in college but doesn’t give a shit about succeeding?” He slitted his eyes, digging in more with his taunting tone. “Jealous of a rich trust-fund punk who’s dragging out his college experience because he’s afraid to grow up and act like a real adult? Hilarious, kid .”
I wouldn’t have any enamel left on my teeth at this rate. But he—or Dean Chen—wasn’t worth this. They didn’t know me. And I wasn’t a fucking kid . I’d be damned if I gave them the satisfaction of seeing me mad, though.
Hearing this bullshit gnawed at me. I was staying in college just to make Dean Chen’s life hell.
“So. Again,” I said flippantly as I studied my cuticles. “How much this time? I’ll tell my parents.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Reeves will not bail you out this time,” Dean Chen said. “We have already contacted them about these allegations of misconduct and your grades and they have made it expressly clear that they have no intention to let you off the hook again.”
I laughed once and looked at the ceiling. “Bullshit.”
“Contact them as you wish,” he intoned firmly. “And feel free to inform me otherwise.”
That was what they did. My parents paid to erase these worries because they had no intention of dealing with me in their lives. This fucker was wrong. Just like he was wrong about William.
“It appears that your parents have never bothered to attend any of the disciplinary hearings or meetings,” Mr. Gormer said, checking over a paper. “And I doubt this time will be any different.”
“How much?” I repeated.
Dean Chen shook his head. “A check won’t save you this time.”
Fuck you!
I refused to believe that my parents wouldn’t come through. They always did. “I’ll get you a check.”
“From what funds?” Dean Chen asked icily. “Your father explained that your trust fund isn’t accessible until your graduation.”
Fuck! I wasn’t offering these pricks an IOU.
“They are, and I quote, ‘fed up with your behavior.’” He raised his brows, judging me. “And they refuse to fork over another penny to cover for the damages of your behavior.”
Dean Chen stood, smoothing his hand down the front of his impeccable suit. Mr. Gormer rose to his feet as well, shoving one hand in his pocket.
Being seated and having them look down at me was a power play. I hated it. But the only emotion I could try to overcome was shock.
They mean it.
My parents weren’t covering my ass this time.
“The only payment you can provide to stay in college and maintain your presidency at the fraternity house is if you go through with and commit to the university’s academic recovery program.” Dean Chen almost scowled with his sentencing.
“Or you’re gone.” Mr. Gormer shrugged, as if he didn’t care how I felt about this at all.
I shot to my feet, snapping to. “What? The recovery program?”
Red-hot indignation filled me at the thought that these two assholes expected me to be tutored.