Page 73 of Disciplinary Action
Foy fidgeted with the ring on his finger. His fraternity ring. The same fraternity as Grant. “Grant didn’t get you the job. He simply asked me to put your résumé at the top of the pile. It wasn’t as if your grades and publications didn’t speak for themselves. But you of all people know that it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. We all need a little help sometimes.”
Gideon leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. “Where does it end? Who are you to say who’s deserving of help and who’s not? You’ve got your finger on the scale, helping the rich stay rich. Why? Doesn’t hard work matter, and if it doesn’t, what’s the point of the entire educational system?”
Foy shrugged, most likely just assuming Gideon was feeling philosophical since he’d just blackmailed them into giving him what he wanted. “Listen, the rich will always find a way to ensure they stay on top, keep the status quo and whatnot. Why shouldn’t we also profit from it? It’s going to happen with or without us. Companies like Tri-State will always ensure that rich kids have every advantage. We’re just lucky enough to profit from it as well.” When Gideon didn’t comment, the man seemed to try harder to find a way to spin himself into Robin Hood. “Look at it this way. By allowing a small percentage of rich kids to buy their way in, we’re allowing the larger percentage that earned their spots to have access to much better things. It’s like a donation with benefits. Everybody wins.”
Gideon scoffed, wondering what Simmons thought of that bullshit answer. Gideon kept prodding, asking leading questions, while he watched Dover make phone calls and type out the letters Gideon had demanded. Foy, to Gideon’s surprise, never stopped talking once the floodgates opened. It was just like Rosalind—like, deep down, these people wanted somebody to know how clever they were. He seemed almost relieved to unburden himself of his knowledge of the operations, filling Gideon in on things even Rosalind hadn’t. Somewhere, there were several men in the back of a van doing a jig over Foy and his never-ending confession. Gideon almost felt guilty about how easy it was to get the men to roll over and give him everything he wanted.
Letters in hand and an interview for Boston College secured, Gideon left Dover’s office, only then bothering to turn on his phone. He was at the van when a text message appeared from Cal.
Alexa was hit by a car. She’s hurt bad.
We’re with Des. Come quick.
Gideon ripped the microphone off in the parking lot, knocking on the van door and tossing the device to the man at the door. He didn’t remember getting into his car. His mind raced at all the possibilities. How had Alexa gotten hit by a car? Did she escape her leash? Would she be alright? Gideon tried calling Cal, but his phone was going straight to voicemail.
As soon as he got to the animal clinic, he turned off the car, leaving it in the middle of the parking lot. He crashed through the doors of the clinic, the smell of disinfectant knocking him back on his heels as the two young blonde women behind the counter gave him a startled look.
“Gideon?”
He turned to find Cal huddled in a chair in the far corner of the waiting room. His eyes went wide. Jesus. Had Cal been hit by the car as well? He rushed to him, getting on his knees in front of him to grip his face. Both eyes were black, his nose red and swollen, dried blood rimming his nostrils. He had a bruise on his left cheek, and both palms were filthy and shredded.
“What the hell happened to you, baby?” he barked, not angry at Cal but furious that he’d failed to protect what was his.
“Matteo,” Cal managed, looking exhausted, his eyes bloodshot from crying.
“Matteo did this to you?” Gideon growled, already reaching for his phone. “I’m going to have this little bastard strung up by his testicles.”
Cal shook his head. “Gideon, not now. Please. I don’t care about me. I just want to know Alexa’s okay. Can you please make them tell us if she’s okay? They won’t tell me anything,” Cal begged, his voice catching on a sob.
Gideon nodded. He couldn’t handle seeing Cal’s tears. “Yes. Alright. I’ll go ask them, but then you and I are going to talk.”
Gideon went to the front desk where the two young girls sat in scrubs. He’d met them once before when he’d brought Alexa for her microchip. “Can one of you please go back and get an update on Alexa? Callum is very upset, and it’s really not good for his blood sugar levels.”
The girl gave Gideon a soft smile before nodding and disappearing through the swinging doors. He went back to Cal, noting the spots of blood on his white shirt. “Are you bleeding?”
Cal looked down with dull eyes. “What? Oh, no. Matteo ripped out my sensor and insulin pump when he kicked me.”
Gideon yanked up Cal’s shirt, running his fingers over the spots where Cal’s pump and sensor usually sat attached just below his skin. The small pieces of tape remained, but the devices as well as the catheters were gone, leaving two small puncture wounds. “He kicked you?” Gideon roared, causing the other patrons to glower at him, clutching their animals close. “He kicked you?” Gideon said again, quieter but still fuming.
Cal nodded, his voice tired as he said, “He found me in the back lot throwing the ball to Alexa. I guess he didn’t see her in the bushes. He was mad that I got into Harvard. Turns out his family is broke thanks to my dad. He decided to take it out on my face. Alexa tried to defend me and got hurt.”
“She’s going to be fine. You both are,” Gideon said, leaving no room for argument.
Cal frantically shook his head. “You don’t know she’s going to be fine. You don’t know that. She looked so small and scared. She was bleeding from her nose.”
Gideon just wanted to ease Cal’s mind. The boy had already been through so much. “You’re bleeding from your nose and you’re going to be just fine,” Gideon countered. The only one who wasn’t going to be fine was that little shit, Matteo. That kid was going to jail, even if Gideon had to join the force and arrest him himself. “Alexa is going to be okay. I’ll fly her to some fancy pants animal hospital by private helicopter if I have to.”
Cal gave him a skeptical look but didn’t fight back.
“When was the last time you checked your blood sugar? When did you eat last?”
Cal shrugged. “A couple of hours ago.”
“I have another testing kit and spare insulin pens in the car. As soon as we know Alexa is okay, we’ll check your sugars and go get you something to eat. You know you aren’t supposed to get worn out like this.”
Before Cal could respond, Des pushed through the doors, wearing pale blue scrubs covered in blood and a white coat he’d clearly donned in an attempt to hide it. “She has two broken ribs and a lacerated spleen that I managed to stitch up. She also fractured her leg, so I had to set that. She’s still sedated, but barring any unforeseen issues like infection, she should be fine. I want to keep her here for a few nights to keep an eye on her.”
Cal gave a dismayed cry. “She has to stay here? By herself? She’ll get scared. She’ll think she’s been abandoned.”
