Business as Usual (Off The Subject) Read online

  Funny how I never gave much thought to how much classes cost when I was on a full-ride scholarship. Funny how I never thought about a lot of things.

  But there was nothing funny about losing my scholarship right before the second semester of my senior year. Especially since I go to Southern University, “an Ivy-League-inspired school nestled in a Tennessee small town.” Who falls for that bullshit? But every year, one thousand or so new students find their way to our “picturesque campus, to embark on their exciting new lives.”

  Embark on their exciting new lives, my ass.

  The majority of students who attend Southern University are dripping in money. Their daddies have their future all figured out for them. I’m part of the one percent, the unlucky few who didn’t come to school with trust funds and beemers and daddy’s gold card. Those of us who were raised on PB&J and got old clunkers when we turned sixteen. We’re here on a combination of scholarships and student loans. Although, at this moment, I can’t figure out why we bother.

  But that’s a lie. I came here because I was given a full-ride scholarship based on academic merit and financial need. I was a local boy, so it made sense to live at home and let my scholarship money do the heavy lifting for my college education. The reputation of the mechanical engineering department helped. It was a no-brainer that ended up biting me in the ass.

  No, Sabrina Richmond bit me in the ass.

  The prof starts to change the graph and I’ve only written down half the information on the screen. Son of a bitch. I don’t know a single person in this class other than a passing acquaintance with a cute red-headed freshman who has let me borrow her notes before, but she’s not here today. I’m fucked. Again.

  When class is almost over, Dr. Kensington reminds us that there will be an exam in our next class. I consider asking my boss for Sunday night off. But Uncle Tony’s short-staffed after one of our bartenders quit, which means I work enough for two people some nights. It’s exhausting, especially on a busy night, but the girls like me and they leave me good tips when I flirt. Christ knows I need all the cash I can get. But I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t wing this exam. I’m going to have to put in some solid hours of studying.

  I can’t afford to take off work and I can’t afford not to.

  I pack up my bag and head for the Higher Ground coffee shop. I can load up on caffeine and study before my next class, Topics in Stress Analysis. It’s a tough course, but it’s math intensive, which has always been easy for me. Using equations to evaluate thermal stress is something that’s squarely in my comfort zone, much more so than Dr. Kensington’s interminable lecture about the industrial revolution. I would so much rather study the geniuses who created the technology that simplified our lives than I would the slum lords who profited off lower income workers, but that’s exactly why I’m behind in history.

  The cold February wind blows across the picturesque campus. Girls clutch their coats and run toward the scattered buildings. I’m not surprised to see a line at the coffee shop, but I am surprised that the line isn’t out the door. The Higher Ground is the only place on campus that serves decent coffee, and it’s a cold Friday morning.

  I order a cup of black coffee, exactly what I always order. A couple gets up from a two-person table and I snag a chair and plop my bag on the table. I can get in an hour of study time if I get right to work.

  I’ve been at it for at least half an hour when someone sits in the chair across from me. Irritated by the interruption, I glance up at Tucker Price, campus ex-soccer star. We’re no more than passing acquaintances, so I’m surprised he’s decided to sit with me.

  “How’s it going, Masterson?” Tucker asks.

  I wave my hand over my open book and notes. “History’s kicking my ass. What about you?”

  “Never better.” His grin lights up his face. Everyone at Southern knows he quit the Chicago Fire to come back to Southern and his girlfriend. Most people think he’s an idiot, but I’ve got to respect a guy who puts his relationship before money and a pro-soccer career. I doubt you’ll find anyone else on this fucking campus who would do that. Still, he and his girlfriend are such opposites that you’d never imagine them together. Who knows, though, maybe that’s what makes it work.

  “That’s awesome, dude. I couldn’t be happier for you,” I say. And I mean it.

  “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you on Saturday mornings.”

  My confusion must be obvious, because he jumps in with an explanation. “You always came to Kyle’s soccer games last fall. I thought you’d come to his basketball games too. He’s a hell of a player, and he’s a great leader for the team too.”

  “Oh,” I say as I make the connection. I can’t help but smile. I love my kid brother, maybe because I spent so much time taking care of him growing up. Not many preteen boys learn about child care, but I was forced to when our mom split, leaving baby Kyle behind. “You’re Kyle’s basketball coach.”

  His brow lowers. “He didn’t tell you he was on my team?”

  “I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks. I’ve been busy.” Which is true. I knew he was playing basketball, but I’ve been working as a janitor at a local office building on Saturday mornings. The main reason I haven’t been at his games, though, is that my father has decided I’m a bad influence on my eleven-year-old brother. How ironic that I was exactly the opposite just a few months ago. But Kyle has been caught in the middle of my fallout with my dad, and I miss the little guy more than I care to admit. I can thank fucking Sabrina for that one. “I’ve got a job on Saturdays. I can’t make his games.”

  Tucker lowers his voice. “I heard about your arrest and how you lost your scholarship. All I can say is when I look back at everything I did in the years before I met Scarlett, I’m amazed it never happened to me.” He sighs. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in this mess.”

  “They dropped the charges, but code of fucking conduct and all that shit…” I shrug, pretending it’s no big deal, but the bitterness still leaks out in my words. “Just one semester left in my mechanical engineering degree. I couldn’t go anywhere else to finish up without practically starting over, so I sucked it up and got two part-time jobs.”

  He grimaces. “That’s a bitch.”

  There’s no denying it. “I’m looking for another one in the afternoons. Something on campus would be great, but we both know those jobs are next to impossible to get.”

  Tucker studies me for a second. “Actually, I know of one that just opened up. One of the tutors in the math lab quit a couple of days ago and Scarlett has been filling in for him. You’re an engineering student, so you should be damn good at math, right? It could work. No one knows about it yet, either.”

  Math lab. I hadn’t considered it as a possibility before now. “Do you know how many hours?”

  “That’s the problem, not many. Maybe ten? But it’s something.”

  “No, it sounds good.” Tucker’s right. This could be a great job for me. “Thanks for the heads up. Who should I get in touch with?”

  “Sure thing. Reed Pendergraft is the guy. Tell him I sent you.”

  “Thanks.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Of course it was too good to be true. Reed Pendergraft has been on campus for less than two semesters, but he already has a reputation of being a total hard ass both inside the classroom and out. Austin, one of my roommates, had a run-in with him in the fall semester and almost lost his spot as a student liaison on the academic advisory committee. Still, I’m desperate.

  “I know for a fact that he’s at the math lab right now if you want to run over. I just saw him after walking Scarlett over there.”

  I’m torn. I need this job, but Pendergraft? I close my history book, hoping I’m not wasting precious study time on this. “Thanks, I’ll do that. And thanks again for the heads-up.”

  “No problem.”

  When I arrive, the math lab is full of students waiting for help. The only tutors are a cute brunette, a curly-hea
ded guy who looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket, and a guy who has to be Reed Pendergraft. He’s seated at a table with a student, going over an equation. I stand by the door and wait.

  Pendergraft looks up. “You can take a seat and we’ll get to you as soon as possible.”

  I take a step toward him. “Actually, I’m here about the tutoring position.

  His mouth parts as if he’s about to say something, but instead he looks me over as if he’s taking my measure. While he’s wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt, I’m dressed in faded jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a hoodie. The look on his face says he finds me lacking.

  “I’m Ben Masterson. Tucker Price sent me.”

  The brunette girl smiles and shoots me a look of recognition. I haven’t seen Scarlett in over a year. We had a couple of classes together freshman year, but we never interacted much. She was always extremely quiet and self-contained. She looks different now—happier and surer of herself.

  “Your name sounds familiar,” Reed says. “Have we had a class together?”

  “No.” I’d remember if I’d had anything to do with Reed Pendergraft. He probably recognizes my name from the news about my arrest, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to mention that.

  He watches me for a long moment. “What are your qualifications?”

  “I’m a senior majoring in mechanical engineering. I’ve had over twenty-hours of math courses with a 3.8 GPA.”

  He gives a brisk nod. “I’ll need a copy of your transcripts and a recommendation from one of your mathematics instructors. I’ll also need a copy of your schedule.”

  While I don’t necessarily like taking orders from a guy who’s barely a year ahead of me in school, it’s the way he poses his requests that irks me. The rumors are clearly true—the guy is a demanding dick. “Is that all?” The question blurts out of my mouth without any forethought. If I want this job, I’m going to have to rein in the attitude.

  As expected, Pendergraft doesn’t look amused. “I haven’t posted the position, but I’ll hold off if you can get me everything by this afternoon.”

  I give a quick nod. “Can do. When would I start?”

  “If your information checks out, you can start today if you like. The sooner, the better.” Then he tells me the hourly wage, which is higher than I’d expected. “We’ll work around your schedule, of course.”

  “Thank you.” I only hope I won’t regret this, despite the pay. It’s only for three months, I tell myself. I can do anything for three months. Can’t I?

  Chapter Three

  Lexi

  I knock on the door of Dr. Tyree’s office promptly at four o’clock, my stomach a bundle of nerves.

  He looks up from his desk, a bright smile on his face as he sets down his pen. “Lexi, come in. You’ve had me intrigued since our phone call this morning.”

  As I walk into the room, he motions to a chair beside his desk. I sit down and pull a folder out of my bag and place it on his desk. “As I mentioned, my independent study class this semester focuses on my liaison work with the children’s charity and the expansion of their summer program to include middle-schoolers. But I want to take this beyond the basics of child care. I’d like to make it a fun experience that will excite the kids. Let’s face it, it’s hard to make a tween or early teen do anything they don’t want to do.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.” Dr. Tyree smiles and tips a picture frame in my direction. “I have a twelve-year-old daughter.”

  “So you understand the importance of making sure they’re engaged.” I open the folder and slide out one of the papers. “I’m proposing an interactive program. Although a park has been lined up to host the original proposed project, I’d like my expanded project to be held at the university, with the permission of the school, of course.”

  He watches me, his face expressionless.

  “Each middle-school-aged child in the program would pick a schedule of courses that would last for a week or two.” I then explain my concept, giving several ideas for courses and how the scheduling would work.

  He looks over the document I gave him and removes his glasses. “This is a very ambitious project, Lexi.”

  I nod my agreement.

  “Do you think you have enough time to pull this together and implement it this year? You’re only a sophomore. Perhaps it would be better for your sanity if you plan on launching it next summer.”

  “While I understand your concerns, Dr. Tyree, I’m confident that I can pull this together.”

  A grin tugs the corners of his mouth. “One thing that I’ve learned since you transferred to Southern last fall is that you like a challenge. I suggested this independent study period after you did such a wonderful job coordinating the fundraiser for the charity last fall. If you’re going to take on ambitious projects, you might as well get academic credit for it. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

  “Thank you for your confidence.”

  “It’s well earned. How’s the play coming along?”

  I tell him about the strong early ticket sales and the support from local businesses. “And the play is actually pretty good too,” I joke. “Despite my guest-star appearance.”

  “This work we’re doing with the charity is good for the relationship between the university and Hillsdale. I’ve always found it ironic that such an elite university is located in a town as blue collar as Hillsdale. It’s caused a lot of animosity between the citizens and the students. This joint project gives both sides the chance to work together and will hopefully ease tension.”

  “And help children in need.” That’s far more important to me than how the university gets along with the town, although I’m smart enough to know that I need both sides to be receptive to my ideas for the summer program in order to get the results I want.

  “Yes, of course.” Dr. Tyree says as an afterthought. “Help children in need. Good luck tonight. I’ll be there in the audience.”

  I leave his office, planning to grab some food at home before heading to the theater for opening night. Everyone is bound to be jittery, but surprisingly enough, I’m not anxious about the opening now that everything has been set into motion.

  As I head across campus, I decide to stop in the math building and say hi to Reed. Yet another student quit in the math lab, so he’s been under a lot of stress lately. When I walk in, he’s at a table talking to a guy whose back is to me. I figure he’s tutoring the guy until I get close enough to overhear their conversation. Reed’s giving him instructions on how the lab works.

  My brother looks up and smiles when he sees me. “Lexi. This is a surprise.”

  “I thought I’d drop in and say hi. I know Fridays are late for you this semester, so I’ll be gone when you get home.”

  Reed stands, looking down at the guy across from him. “Excuse me for a minute.”

  Now I feel guilty. It’s obvious he’s training this guy to take the recently vacated position. “You don’t have to stop what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I could use a break, and I’m sure Ben won’t mind waiting a minute.”

  I follow him into his office and he shuts the door. “I’m glad you stopped by,” he says with a smile. “Both of us have been so busy for the last few weeks that I feel like I haven’t seen you for days. How are you? Caroline says everything’s ready for opening night.”

  “Well, as long as no one’s expecting Broadway, I think it’ll go well.”

  “That’s not how Caroline put it.”

  “That’s because she stays backstage.” I tilt my head with a grin. “So she’s missed a lot of the actual play. But it’s a comedy, which helps cover most of our screw-ups.”

  “That’s the spirit.” There’s no sarcasm in his voice. “I know what a perfectionist you can be. I’m proud of you for letting go a bit.”

  His words make me stop and think. I’ve always wanted things to be done right—we’re both like that—but maybe I do need to
let go. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we can’t control everything. If I don’t let some things go, they’ll eat me alive.”

  The recognition flickers in his eyes, quickly followed by anger.

  We’ve never talked about what happened, not explicitly. Part of the reason is that Reed never brings it up. I know why, and it’s not just that he doesn’t want to upset me. It pains him that something so horrible happened to me and that he couldn’t do anything about it. It’s why he’s so overprotective now. My therapist has pointed this out to me multiple times.

  “Not to worry, big brother.” I kiss him on the cheek. “It’s called growing up.”

  He sits on the edge of his desk, at a loss for words.

  I help him out by changing the subject. “Are you still coming tonight?”

  A smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t miss it. It’s your stage debut, since I don’t think we can count your riveting performance as Little Bo Peep in the third grade play.”

  I laugh. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “How could I forget it? Mother made me wear a tie to the school program. Some of my friends were there, so I was teased mercilessly for weeks.”

  I release a contented sigh, happy to be here with him in this moment. We’ve gotten pretty close since we moved to Hillsdale together. “I miss you.”

  His brow wrinkles. “I miss you too. I’m sorry if school and Caroline are sucking up my time.”

  “No, don’t be sorry. Both are worthy of your attention. Besides, I want you to be happy.”

  He stands and gently grabs my shoulders, turning me around so that he’s looking into my eyes. “I want you to be happy too. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing by bringing you here… if you would have been better off in Boston.”

  My mouth drops open and I blink in confusion. “How can you say that?” Then it hits me. “Are you sorry?”

  “No, Lexi. Southern’s not Stanford, but if I hadn’t come here I would never have met Caroline. And I can’t even begin to imagine a life without her. I’m grateful for the choices I made.”