“What can I help you with, Mr. Kennedy?” he asks, clicking his tongue.
“Can you please go over the part where you talked about what's going to be done around here regarding the drug issue on campus?"
His brows furrow. “I don’t understand what you mean. Were you not paying attention?” he sighs heavily and shakes his head. “First you’re late, then you don’t bother listening to a word I said? At least I should be grateful you even showed up to this one.”
“First off, your receptionist hasn’t sent me anything in weeks regarding these meetings.” I try to keep my cool but my irritation with this man is growing by the second. Alpha fucking asshole is what he is. “I haven’t gotten any emails from the school in months. So, maybe talk to her about holding a professional manner when it comes to work, and not let getting turned down by a gay man cause her to be petty.”
“I beg your–”
“Second off,” I cut in, loving the way his nostrils flare in anger. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t completely paying attention, forgive me, but you just told me a student I cared deeply about died. So, I ask you again. Tell me what you're going to do about the drug issue we seem to be having. Because not only have all the students who have died of drug overdoses in this area come from this school, but they’ve all happened on this campus. At either dorm parties or frat houses.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do apart from what we’ve already been doing. There is a no drugs allowed rule set in place. It’s been made known to the students for weeks now.”
I give him a blank look. “And they are clearly abiding by that. They’re young adults. Do you think a simple rule is going to make them do as they’re told? What is being done to make sure the rules are being followed? Have you done any drug testing? Have any RA’s or fraternity presidents done any room checks?”
“Well, of course not. That would be a violation of privacy.” He huffs.
“If you have reason to believe a student isn’t following the rules, you have the right to violate that privacy.” My voice grows louder. “It’s about money. You don’t want to spend the money to make sure these students are safe.”
“That's enough, Mr. Kennedy,” he barks and my spine stiffens. “I will not allow you to stand here and undermine my authority. I suggest you do your job and get back to class where your students are waiting on you to teach. If not, there will be consequences for not doing your job.”
“And where were the consequences for Chad’s father huh?” I step forward, fist clenched and I’m three seconds away from clocking this asshole because I’ve gone to him more than once with my concerns for Chad and his answers have always been the same. It’s out of my hands. Well fuck him because I’m about to throw some damn hands. “Wasn’t it his job to protect his child? Not fucking beat him to the point that he felt the need to take drugs to make the pain go away?”
He narrows his eyes, fury clear in his expression, but I turn around and storm out before he has the chance to say another word.
The rest of the day goes by agonizingly slow. My mind isn’t completely on my job because all I can think about is Chad and what his last moments on this earth were like. Was he afraid? Did he pass out before he knew what was going on?
The questions go round and round inside my head, driving me crazy.
Finally, when the end of the day comes, I’m eager to get home, crawl into my nest, and sleep the weekend away.
This job is taking more out of me than it should. I’m starting to wonder if it’s even worth it anymore.
By the time all the students are gone, and I’m finishing up what needs to be done, it’s a half hour later.
Sighing heavily, I grab my things and make my way to my car.
“I hear there’s mafia ties to this,” someone nearby says as I slip my key into the door of my car. My body stiffens in response, and my attention turns to the conversation.
“Mafia?” another person says. “Nah. I don’t think it’s that big.”
“I was down at Biggies, overheard Rickie and his guys talking. They said it wasn’t local. That they’re pissed about this leaking onto their turf but their hands are tied.”
“Whatever it is, it’s only going to get worse before someone does something about it. And something tells me, whatever that's going to be, it's not going to be good for anyone involved. You don’t fuck with the Serpents, mafia or not.”
Serpents? As in the gang that runs this town?
Mafia and gangs don’t normally cross paths unless one can offer something useful to the other.
The sounds of car doors opening and shutting, followed by a car starting up and taking off tells me I’m alone now.
Finally, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and quickly get into my car and out of the hot summer air.
Starting it up, I turn the air-conditioner on and wait for my car to cool down.
What the hell just happened? I have no idea who was just speaking, but they seemed to know something that could lead to some answers.
Anyone else would go to the cops, give them a tip to look into this. But I know better than that.
