Bad Son Rising (6 page)

“He’ll be fine. Trust me, he’s harmless. I’ve known the guy for a million years. He’ll be totally intimidated that he’s got a chick.” Perry clapped Zac on the shoulder.

“He’s really kind of sweet, in a nerdy way,” Melinda reported back after a “first date” to Fenway Park. “He’s got great box seats on the first base line.” Having two older brothers, Melinda could talk baseball and hockey with the best of them. Coupled with her cute strawberry blonde looks, Melinda had often been referred to as “one of the guys” and while the girly-girls tended to actually get the guys, more than one of them harbored a secret crush on Melinda.

Two weeks after Melinda’s first date, two more guys and girls were part of the dating club. Paul knew a guy and his friend knew someone.

“I think we should cap this off,” was Brian’s suggestion. “We don’t want this getting out there and we just can’t provide the security for the girls that we could when it was only one or two.”

“I think we’re good,” Zac was feeling invincible. “Tara doesn’t need security with Perry. Perry is totally a stand up dude and I’m not too worried about Paul. Melinda could kick his ass,” Zac laughed.

“I think you’re right, but if anyone got hurt, or we got busted for this, that would really suck.” Something was not sitting right with Brian.

“Hardly anyone knows, no one’s going to rat us out. We’ll kick their asses if they do,” Zac laughed. “No one’s going to fuck with us. Let’s go get a beer.”

Washington Tavern was a student hangout. The front bar was always packed and negotiating through to the pool and game room in the back resulted in multiple ass and cock squeezes.

On one particular winter’s night, Zac got caught in a bottle neck of traffic on his way to play pool. Over the loud din of the crowd, he never heard his zipper go down and barely felt the tug. When her hand wrapped around his cock and stroked him to hardness, he looked down and all he could see was the top of her head and her shiny center-parted brown hair. He never saw her face. Coming into anonymous hands was a crazy, over the top, turn-on and he’d always hoped she would capture him in the crowd again.

Heading to the back with Brian and Liz, Zac counted four ass grabs and three cock squeezes. Not a bad night at all. They signed up on the clipboard for the next available pool table, and waited for one to become available.

Liz was always amused as she watched girls migrate over to Zac and Brian, sometimes leaving their dates behind to do so.

“I hate when you guys get more pussy than I do,” Liz pouted.

“Always happy to share,” Zac hit her with his killer smile.

“You’d probably just be happy to watch.” Since their conversation in Paris, Liz had decided that Zac got very little real pleasure from sex, aside from the physical release and maybe some control aspects.

“I’d be happy to take you both on,” Brian added cheerfully.

Across the game room, Zac caught Britt’s eye as she was leaning over a pool table to take a shot. Her low cut black shirt offering a fine glimpse of her best pool playing asset — her Weapons of Mass Distraction. No red-blooded male could properly focus when Britt was laying those bad boys on the felt.

He smiled at her, knowing exactly what she was doing to her competitor and she smiled back, surprised to see Zac and more than happy to have caught his attention, especially in one of her best positions. Her partner turned around to see where her smile was directed and to each of their surprise, Zac and Prescott Lodge found themselves staring at one another.

“Looks like he put that twenty dollars to good use,” Zac quipped to Brian.

Brian looked at his watch, “How long do we give her until she dumps him for the night?”

“Depends on how many smiles Zac gives her,” Liz assessed the situation.

“Or if he ignores her. That would drive her crazy. Or how many other chicks hit on him. We have a lot of variables here to consider.”

Zac laughed at his friends, “You guys are bad.”

“One thing is for sure,” Liz was smiling like a Cheshire cat, “we know who she is not going home with tonight.”

All three sets of eyes focused on Prescott, who was trying to act cool, but knew that his chances of scoring with Britt had just gone from long shot to virtually impossible.

“I hate that little prick. How many times has he tried to weasel out of the money he owes us? What? About six times now?”

Brian nodded, “The crazy thing is it seems like he does it specifically to antagonize you.”

“One of these days, I am going to kick his ass.” Zac smiled, “But for now, I’ll let him enjoy his date with Britt.”

Britt’s eye contact with Zac was continuous and hot across the raucous room, punctuated with smiles, lip licking and continual readjustment of her Weapons of Mass Distraction in her tight black shirt. Looking at her as if he wanted to fuck her right on the pool table, with her ankles wrapped around his neck, as he plowed down into her, she was beyond concentrating on anything except what Zac Moore was going to be doing to her later that evening.

By the time she left Washington Tavern, Zac was engrossed in his game with Brian and Liz. Leading Prescott past Zac’s pool table, she leaned down to Zac, who was taking a shot, and whispered, “See you later?”

“I’ll be over in about an hour,” he didn’t bother to whisper. “Hey Prescott, how’re you doing?” There was nothing sincere in his smile.

Zac Moore could be a cold dick.

Their first “911” text came one week later. The guy was a financial advisor in Paul’s firm and his first date with their dorm mate Jennie had gone well and without incident. She had described him as personable and easy to talk to, and was totally down with seeing him again.

Zac was up the street in a pizza place working on homework for his Linear Algebra & Differential Equations class, when his phone buzzed. His stomach muscles immediately contracted upon seeing the three numbers. Gathering his books quickly, he was out on the street in a nanosecond. Jennie wasn’t answering her phone and his level of alarm was escalating rapidly.

Something caught his eye, a movement in the alleyway next to the restaurant. Typically, he would have cruised right on by without even glancing down an alley filled with parked cars and dumpsters, but his adrenaline was flowing rapidly throughout his blood stream and all his senses were sharpened and poised on high alert.

It was the bright pink flowers on Jennie’s dress caught in a floodlight mounted on top of one of the buildings that had actually pulled his eye down the alley. Pinned against a brick wall, the guy had the skirt of her dress around her waist.

Zac pulled him off her by grabbing a handful of the guys hair, “Get off her, you moron.”

Spinning toward Zac, the heel of guy’s palm slammed Zac under the chin, forcing his jaw closed. Immediately, Zac tasted the metallic tang of blood and his anger escalated.

“I paid for her, you privileged pissant,” the guy’s eyes were wild.

Those were the last words out of his mouth before Zac let loose on him, slamming him into the brick wall and landing multiple punches to the man’s now bloody jaw.

“If you’re thinking retribution,” Zac hissed, “then I’m thinking attempted rape.”

Leaving the guy seated against the wall, Zac walked down the alley toward the street, not feeling very victorious. Brian had been right. Letting their initial core operation expand had substantially escalated the risk over the reward.

This is done,
thought Zac,
totally done.
What could have happened to Jennie sent a shiver up his spine.

“Are you OK?” Jennie was waiting on the sidewalk.

Zac nodded, “How about you? Are you OK?” he asked with a hand on each of her shoulders.

“I’m OK. I’m so sorry, Zac,” she started to apologize.

“No, Jen. I’m sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“You were just trying to help me.” Tears finally started to flow from her big waif-like eyes.

Putting an arm around her shoulder, they started to walk.

“Zac, you might need stitches,” another round of tears commenced.

“I’m OK. I just bit my tongue when he slammed me.”

They hadn’t walked five feet when Zac found himself face-to-face with Prescott Lodge.

“Trouble tonight?” the shorter man smirked.

“Get the fuck out of here, loser.” Zac spat out a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. The last person he needed to run into, and be provoked by, was this runt.

All “dates” were cancelled from that moment on, the girl’s safety being of more importance than anything else. Tara had almost enough money to pay her grad school bill and a very generous check from newfound admirer, Perry, took care of the rest and quite a bit more.

The note that accompanied the check read,

Thank you for sharing your company with me, Tara.
You are a delight and I look forward to hearing from Liz
about all of your accomplishments. Enjoy graduate school
and if there is anything you need, I hope you will not
hesitate to come to me. Again, I enjoyed every moment we
shared. Fondly, Perry Baker

They were heading into the home stretch of the spring semester with finals just around the corner. The days were longer and it was hard to study when the evenings finally begged for being outdoors after a long northeastern winter cooped up inside the dorms and frosty windowed bars.

As Zac crossed the campus, he was taking a mental inventory of the assignments he needed to complete before hunkering down to study for finals. This was the semester it had all kicked into place with his engineering and math classes and he was positive that would be reflected in his grades — finally.

The muffled ring emerged from the front pocket of his faded out jeans. Digging, he pulled out his phone and looked at the number. The call was from somewhere on campus, but wasn’t one he recognized.

“Hello.”

“Is this Zac Moore?”

“Yeah,” Zac waited for a car to pass as he crossed the road.

“This is Jean from Dean Golding’s office. The dean would like to see you.”

“Me? Why?” Zac was caught off-guard. Why would the Dean of Student Life want to see him?

“I’m really not sure, Zac. Please come to the administration building.”

“Now?”

“Yes, the dean is waiting for you.”

Zac turned around, heading back to the area of campus where he had just been.
What the hell could the dean want with me?
Zac wondered. He had just been focused on studying. The sports betting had ended with the NCAA’s and after Jennie’s close call they had abandoned the other things — and that had been weeks ago.

Finding his way to the dean’s office, he climbed the marble staircase to the second floor of the old admin building, a stone building which dated back to the 1870’s.

“Hi, I’m Zac Moore,” he introduced himself to the dean’s PA, making sure to bestow his best smile upon her.

He caught her slight gasp before she quickly regained control. Lifting the phone, “I’ll let him know you are here.”

A moment later, “The dean will see you now.”

As Zac made his way toward the heavy wood door, he could feel the rising bile burning his esophagus. This was not good. Someone had ratted him out. Where was Brian? Had they already called him in?

Zac knocked on the door and heard the dean telling him to come in.

As he entered the spacious, dark wood office, he noticed someone standing by the windows with their back to him. At six foot two, with his broad shoulders, well-defined biceps and dirty blonde hair, he’d be a recognizable figure from a mile down the road.

What is my father doing here?
His first thought made his heart knot — something had happened to his baby brother Nathaniel and he’d come to tell him in person. But when his father turned toward him, arms crossed over his chest, the look on his face was not grief, and Zac’s first thought was overwhelming relief — Natie was ok. His relief, however, was extremely short-lived — the look on Schooner Moore’s face was chilling in the heat of his anger — seething anger.

“Dad,” it was out of his mouth involuntarily.