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“Answer me.”
“They’re fine.” As fine as they could be when I couldn’t get it up to care. The only one I was pulling an A in was my Shakespeare class, and that was all down to Helen.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and something that felt like disgust poured out of him. Andrew Whitlock was an academic, through and through. He’d moved up into administration over time, but he’d always be an educator and an intellect. His one indulgence while earning his PhD had been a weekend away to Vegas for a friend’s bachelor party. That weekend resulted in my existence, which to him, was his ultimate screwup—one he expected me to right by being his well-heeled son and representing him the only way a Whitlock should: being talented, and if not talented, then hardworking and intelligent. Always,alwaysexceptional.
I’d been born an athlete, not a natural academic. Since I’d been exceptional at what I did, my father had accepted that as my path. When I dropped wrestling, he’d expected me to shift my focus to my education and excel there. So far, being only slightly above average—when I worked my ass off—made me a severe disappointment.
“You asked a question a minute ago.” My father’s jaw ticced while he steadied himself. “If you decline to escort Abby to the banquet, I won’t waste my resources in keeping you here.”
Fear licked at my gut, but I pushed it down. I was used to Andrew Whitlock’s rants, but this was a new direction. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean exactly that. I’m asking you for a favor, one that’s not difficult, which will likely result in a boon to the university. If that doesn’t mean enough to you to give me one evening of your time, that will tell me this university doesn’t mean anything to you. If that’s the case, then I can’t see why you’d continue to attend.”
That rocked me back in my chair. “You’d kick me out of school? Can you even do that?”
He opened his hands. “I can do whatever I like. Your tuition is free so long as I’m president. If I don’t think this school is a good fit, then I will rescind your enrollment. It’s pretty simple.”
“And you’d do that?” I had a hard time believing what I was hearing. My dad was a hard-ass, but this was beyond the pale, even for him. He knew I didn’t have anywhere to go if he took this away. Ineededmy degree.
He looked me square in the eye. “I’d do that without hesitation.”
“Because I won’t date the girl who dumped me months ago?”
My father wasn’t a man who rolled his eyes, but if he was, he would have then. Looking at him, I knew I was fucked before he even started speaking.
“This is the culmination of months of screwups. I’ve been watching you throw your future down the drain, bit by bit. First Abby, then wrestling, and now your grades. Your attitude has been flagrantly disrespectful, you’ve ignored Miranda for weeks, and god only knows what you got up to over the summer since you disappeared on us. I’m done, Theo. I brought you to California with the expectation you’d apply yourself. Otherwise, I could have left you rotting in the projects in Las Vegas. I need to see you’re here to excel, not waste the resources another student would kill to have access to.”
“And me taking Abby would prove that to you?”
He sighed, leaning back in his throne-like chair. “I’m looking for a sign of life from you, Theo. Show me you care about this institution. Give a damn what I think. Taking Abby would be a good start. Getting your grades up is imperative.”
The knowledge that I wasn’t getting out of this settled over me like a blanket woven with thorns. If he took away school, I had nothing. As much as I would have liked to shoot up my middle finger and stalk out of here, I couldn’t. I’d played my entire hand when I quit wrestling without warning or explanation. Now, my dad was playing his.
“All right.” It was a sharp kick to the gut to acquiesce, but in that moment, I saw no way out. “I’ll take her to the banquet and my grades will be a priority.”
He nodded. “That’s right. And you’ll stop ignoring your stepmom. I want you at the house once a week, minimum.”
“Okay.” My gut was on fire, urging me to rage against his unbearably heavy hand. I reminded myself this was temporary. One night with Abby in a public space wouldn’t kill me. Putting in the much-needed work in my classes was necessary anyway. And I liked Miranda, so that wasn’t even a chore. I just really didn’t fucking enjoy being threatened by my own father to bow to his demands.
“Okay.” He flicked his hand toward the door. “You can go now. I’m certain you have studying you should be doing instead of wasting my time.”
My father didn’t expect formalities when it was just the two of us, so that was my cue to exit. I grabbed my backpack and walked out, feeling yoked with my hands tied behind my back. He owned me for the next three years. It wasn’t forever, but Jesus, it felt like it.
Deacon flicked the back of my head as he walked by me. “Is that Theo Whitlock reading a book? In this house?” He swung himself over the back of the couch to plop down a cushion over from me.
“I was.”
“On a Friday night? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
I closed my sociology book and dropped my head back on the cushion. “It’s not even midterm and my sociology grade is almost toast.”
Exaggeration, but I needed to dig into the material in a big way to fix what I’d fucked up. Coasting wasn’t an option at this point. I’d been taking more time to read and study since my visit to my father’s office earlier in the week. Helen had been all for it since my little schoolgirl was serious as hell about her grades, and my constant presence all up in her business—her words, obviously—was distracting.
He groaned. “You have Marino?”
“Yep.” I scrubbed my face with both hands. “He’s golf buddies with good ol’ Andrew.”
He groaned even louder. “Shit. Let me guess, Marino narc’d.”
