Page 2 of Sail Away with Me

“Because I said so. Now get your ass out of here.”

Sail was pissed. Being pissed off and hungover didn’t go well together. The kid had no right to question his authority. He was president of the fraternity, and everyone needed to do as he demanded.

He muttered a string of obscenities as he made his way into the kitchen, stepping over yet another co-ed. The kitchen was a mess. Red cups, beer bottles, an overturned keg, and who knew what littered the floor. The house really needed to get their act together before the . . . he swallowed hard at the sight of the dean of students sitting at their table with pizza boxes, half-eaten pizza, and Sail didn’t want to guess what else piled high.

“Good afternoon, Sail.” Dean Holmes sat with his hands clasped together. He wore a light blue blazer with a matching shirt and bowtie. He and Sail were not friends.

“Mr. Holmes.” Sail gave him a nod.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Dean Holmes motioned at the chair across from him. Sail swallowed hard and pulled the chair out. He cringed when he reached for the pile of clothes, feeling a wet spot on them. Sail wanted to gag but thought better of it. He reached for a towel and wiped his hand, and didn’t even want to guess what the wetness was from. Already, he’d seen some poor kid passed out with shit in his pants. There wasn’t much more Sail could take this morning.

The dean set a folder onto the table and looked—no, he glared—at Sail and then shook his head. “Do you know what I have here?”

“No, sir.”

“This . . .” He held up the rather thick file. “Is a list of complaints filed by your peers, professors, and the community. All from this year,” Dean Holmes said. “We’re what?” he paused and looked at his watch. “Three weeks into the school year? I think this is some type of record.”

Probably the not record Sail wanted.

Sail cleared this throat and opened his mouth, only to close it right away. There wasn’t anything he could say that would change why the dean was in the house and sitting at their table.

“Do you know what they call you on campus?”

He shook his head, figuring it was better to say quiet on the matter.

“The good-time man.” The dean sat back and tapped his thick fingers on the folder. He had yet to show Sail any of the complaints. For all he knew, they’d been fabricated. Dean Holmes was out to get him, especially after he caught Sail with his daughter last year.

“Do you think that fits you?”

What in the hell was Sail supposed to say?

“I don’t know, sir.”

Dean Holmes opened the folder and picked up the first sheet of paper. “How are your classes?”

Again, Sail said nothing. He was in his last year at the University of Miami, majoring in business management, with a minor in marketing. The plan had always been for him to return home, to Seaport, and help manage the Carter family businesses.

The plan . . . according to his father and brother Dune.

No one ever asked Sail what he wanted to do or what he thought. When he suggested Blue Lobster Adventures expandsouth, in a more tropical location, his family balked. The truth was, Sail hated the winter and couldn’t see himself living in Seaport year-round.

Sail wasn’t the suit and tie sort of guy either, or the type to sit down and work at a computer. Never mind punching the proverbial nine-to-five clock. None of the standard office practices appealed to Sail. He may have been the next in line after Dune, but he didn’t ask to be there. It was always assumed he’d work for the family. He supposed when his father, Jack, paid for his education, he could mandate whatever.

“Let me help you with that, Mr. Carter.” Dean Holmes took a sheet of paper out of the folder and slid it across the table. Sail looked briefly and felt bile rise. “Do you see a pattern?”

Reluctantly, Sail nodded.

“How many classes have you attended since school started?”

To put in an effort, Sail leaned forward. “Two.”

“You’ve attended two classes in three weeks.”

Fuck.

“Mr. Carter, last semester I put you on academic probation. This did nothing to fix the issue.”

“I’ll be better, Mr. Holmes.”

---