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My phone ringing gets my attention. Checking the caller ID, the college name flashes across the screen. Quickly swiping my finger across the screen to accept, my brows furrow in confusion about the reason they are calling.
“Hello?”
“Yes, can I speak with Kennedy Ainsworth?”
“This is she.”
“Ms. Ainsworth, please hold for the Dean of Admissions.”
Before being able to ask the reason for the call, the nasal female voice cuts out to be replaced by music. Soon after, a second female voice comes on the line.
“Ms. Ainsworth?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Roberta Adams, the Dean of Admissions for Three Rivers College.” Her words are brisk, with no warmth behind them, putting me on alert.
“How can I help you, Ms. Adams?” My voice is shaking with nerves.
“Ms. Ainsworth, I am calling to request that you not return to school.”
“Wait, what?” Shock is setting in; I am unsure what is happening right now. “You want me to take this semester off? Why?”
“Why? We prefer you not return to campus because of the current legal situation your father is tangled up in, Ms. Ainsworth. As to your other question, it isn’t just the semester. It would be best if you didn’t come back to campus ever. We feel that you will be too distracting to the other students and that things will only get worse as it gets closer to your father going to trial. While legally, we cannot kick you out of school—we strongly advise you to consider this. I am sorry, Ms. Ainsworth. You are an excellent student. Good luck in your future endeavors.” The line goes dead, preventing me from pleading my case.
Stunned, shocked, numb—all of these feelings wash over me as I sit, still holding the phone to my ear. The last ten minutes play on a loop.
As usual, my father takes over my life, this time, getting me kicked out of school,sort of. Most schools start classes in just a few weeks. How am I supposed to enroll, transfer my credits, and get moved in before they start?
My pity party only lasts for a few minutes. Pulling up my big girl panties and grabbing my laptop, I start getting busy getting my life put back together.
CHAPTERSIX
Ever since our fathers took that fateful trip to Pennsylvania, Rodney has been out of control. Not that I blame him, unsure of what my own reaction might be if it was my dad who died. It’s bad enough that my dad’s career is royally fucked because of his hand injuries. He is still healing and not sure what the future holds, but he is trying to stay positive.
We have tried talking to Rodney to no avail. Since classes are starting in two days, hopefully, he will have something else to focus on.
Last night, after Rodney passed out, Gareth informed us that his father had approached one of his law partners. They are starting the paperwork to sue Hastings Ainsworth for my father’s lost wages and the wrongful death of Mr. Carter.
* * *
It’s a typical August day in Texas; the weather is scorching. Me and Gareth are in his SUV, while Rodney and Callum are in Callum’s.
We find two parking spots close to the dorm when Gareth starts muttering under his breath. Raising my head to see what has him annoyed already, I spot the problem, voicing my own ire.
“Motherfucker. We don’t even have the car shut off.”
Rodney is coming around the car in my direction when my words reach him, causing his head to snap up.
Four girls we went to high school with, dubbed the Pussy Patrol, rapidly approach us.
The girls are good-looking, but besides wearing too much makeup and too little clothing, they chase after the wealthy. Any guy with money gets between their legs.
No.
Thank.
You.
