I sigh and roll my eyes at this melodrama unfolding before me. “They won’t deport me. I’m white and I have money. That’s like—double protection here, isn’t it?”
Hamm’s face turns three shades of red. The wrong answer, I guess. Too bad.
“An expired visa is an expired visa no matter who you are.” He shakes his head disapprovingly at me.
“Yeah, but you’re my sponsor, remember?” I shrug, ready for this entire conversation to be over. “You wanted to bring the school a little class upgrade, didn’t you? All you have to do is petition for an extension and vouch for me, that’s all. The charges have already been dropped, haven’t they?”
‘What’s your problem?’ I want to tack on, but something about the blood rising and falling in his face warns me against it.
“Yes,” Hamm says slowly. “Why did they drop the charges? You were clearly drunk and disorderly.” He shakes his head in visible frustration.
I smirk at his question. He’s just proving my point for me. “As I said, I’m white and I have money. Pay the right people off and you can do whatever you want without reaping the consequences.”
“Shut up, Maverick,” Coach Willis groans desperately.
Hamm looks like he’s about to explode. “That baseless entitlement is precisely why I’m withdrawing as your sponsor, Maverick. I have given you chance after chance to get your act together, and you have somehow managed to spit in my face every single time. You’re finished and I’m done.”
“Aw come on, Dean, you don’t mean that. Think about the school’s reputation. Think about what it would mean for the school to have an athlete go pro right after graduation. If my visa expires before then, you’ll miss the chance to be plastered on headlines all over the country. Hell, you could increase your tuition by half and still keep a waiting list. I’ll make this place famous, Mr. Hamm.”
Hamm raises a thick eyebrow and glares at me.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Coach interrupts. “He’s not wrong, Paul,” he says grudgingly. At least one of these men seem to have their eye on the puck. “Something like that would keep us on the map for a long time.”
Hamm strokes his mustache thoughtfully for a long moment, then shakes his head. “I can’t have it,” he says. “Maverick’s behavior will eventually come to light, if not before his draft, then after. The school’s reputation will suffer, especially with me as his sponsor. Have you thought about that? No. I can’t keep this up with him. He clearly doesn’t care about how much harm he does or who he drags with him and I won’t have him drag me into the gutter. I have no choice, Steve.”
I shift restlessly in my seat. This is taking forever and I have places to be, people to see, havoc to wreak.
For as blasé as I’m acting, I know as well as Hamm does that if he really doesn’t vouch for me, I’m as good as gone.
“So we’ll cover it up,” Coach Willis is saying. “We’ll pay a few people to keep quiet and just go on as nothing happened.” He’s clutching at straws. Even I can feel how little weight is behind his words.
“It was on the news, Steve.” Hamm shakes his head with a fierce pout settling on his thin lips. “Bare-assed on public property waving one of our uniforms over his head. And don’t think I didn’t hear about that stunt in the hall this morning.” Hamm whirls on me and wags a bony finger in my face. “You terrorize the students. The students have social media. It might be news to you, but videos live on the internet forever. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to your reputation? What you’re doing to the reputation of this school?”
I sigh. “Name one famous hockey player who was ever brought down by a scandal. A scandal of this nature. There isn’t one, you know why? Boys will be boys. Athletes get a free pass.”
“Not anymore you don’t,” Hamm says, slamming his fist on the folders resting in front of him. “I am withdrawing as your sponsor as of now. I’m washing my hands of you. Your visa expires at the end of April. Make your arrangements. I’m done!”
“Paul, come on, he’s my best player,” Coach pleads.
“I’m open to suggestions,” Hamm says, casting me a sideways glance after a few minutes of painful brooding.
“Here’s one: sponsor me!” I rarely raise my voice—I don’t see the point—but I’m beginning to lose my temper. This whole argument is ridiculous. Hamm is being a total pain in my arse and I’ve had enough.
Hamm snaps his fingers and points at me in a gesture that uncomfortably reminds me of my father. It pisses me off even more, but I fall silent, sullenly folding my arms across my chest and glaring at him.
“One more outburst, Maverick. Just one more outburst of any kind and you will be expelled,” Hamm says, his voice low and threatening. “If you want to extend your visa, I suggest you find another route.”
Coach opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“You have an idea,” I ask. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Coach Willis says, shaking his head. “Terrible idea.”
“I need terrible ideas.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Give me something, Coach. Crazy over there seems determined to have me deported so what you got?” I ask without looking at Dean Hamm.
Willis rubs a hand over his face and shoots an apologetic look at Hamm. “You’re eighteen now, Maverick. You could get married.”
“A green card marriage? That’s your answer?” I stare at him, too shocked to even laugh at this bad joke.
“I told you it was a terrible idea.”
But the wheels in my mind are turning. If I could get a girl to marry me—even temporarily—it could be enough to get me on the team. I would never have to go back home, if I can even call that place a home.
Hamm scoffs. “Eighteen-year-old girls aren’t exactly desperate to get married these days, Steve. He’d need to find someone in the next two weeks and with the reputation he’s made for himself, I don’t think even Brandy Pickering would be willing.”
“She doesn’t need to want to,” I say thoughtfully, getting on board with the idea.
Willis and Hamm stare at me with twin looks of horror. I grin, confidence returning. “Money, remember? I’ll just bribe a girl.”
Willis shakes his head. “It’s no good, Maverick. These girls need money like they need a hole in the head, which just in case you get any weird ideas, is none at all,” he directs that last statement to me, staring me dead in the face.
There’s a crackling silence in the room for a moment before someone walks into the outer office. I look to see who it is. When I do, my grin returns, almost splitting my entire face in half.
“Not all of them,” I chuckle, motioning to the outer office with my head. “Look.”
Hamm and Willis peer through the window to see a bedraggled and exhausted Beth, wearing her barista uniform.
3
I smile at the receptionist as I walk into the office. She wrinkles her nose at me, as usual.
“I need to speak to the Dean. Is he in?” I manage to ask.
“He’s in a meeting? You’ll have to wait.” Her voice has the same little upturn as her nose and it’s grating my nerves.
Hamm’s office door opens wide before I can thank her or sit down, and he smiles at me rather strangely.
“Beth, come on in. Let’s talk.”
I shoot a smug look at the receptionist, who rolls her eyes at me.
It doesn’t matter much to me how anyone else feels about me, as long as the Dean and the teachers still have my back. They’re my safety net and I’m happy to have at least them looking out for me.
I stride past her with my head held high and walk through the door that Dean Hamm is patiently holding open for me. As soon as I enter the room my legs stop working and I freeze. The hockey Coach is sitting in my usual seat and across from him, Maverick is slouching in a chair with a weirder than usual grin on his face.
“Sit down, sit down,” Hamm gestures to the last remaining seat, in be
tween the Coach and Maverick.
I sit, slowly, looking from one face to another.
I see.
So, Maverick got here first and told them about the incident in the hall. He must have spun it so that it was all my fault, somehow. The bastard.
I sit with my hands folded in my lap, prepared to defend myself against whatever lies I’m sure he’s told.
Hamm opens his desk and pulls out a file with my name on it. He flips through it for a moment, then pulls out a piece of paper.
“Beth. You’ve been here on a scholarship for the last three years, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” I nod. He knows this.
He nods, then glances at what I’m wearing.
“You know dress code violations stack up. Your scholarship depends on you adhering to the rules.”
I shoot a furious glance at Maverick, then paste a smile on my face for Hamm. “Yes sir, I know. I came to school in uniform this morning, but Maverick and his friends had a series of—accidents—in my direction, which ruined it. I have a pass from Mr. Anderson for my dress code violation, sir. I’m really sorry.”
Hamm nods thoughtfully, then shifts in his chair. “You work very hard, don’t you, Beth?”
“Yes, sir. I work at least thirty hours a week on top of school, sometimes more.” Where is this going? Did he expect me to have the freedom to spend my wages on a bunch of replacement uniforms?
“So, fifty thousand dollars would probably change your life.” It isn’t a question, and I’m not quite sure what it’s supposed to be.
“Um…of course it would. Why?”
Hamm exchanges a glance with the Coach and Maverick, then clears his throat.
“We’ll come back to that. If your scholarship were to be suddenly suspended, for whatever reason, how would your life be affected?”
My blood instantly becomes glaciers in my veins as panic grips my chest. It takes every ounce of control not to scream that it would ruin my life and everything I’ve ever worked, no, slaved for. Instead, I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, then meet his eyes evenly.
“I would have to start over at another school. Probably a public school. The lost scholarship would be a black mark on my record, and I would not be able to attend Julliard.”
Hamm nods. “Of course.”
This isn’t a question that needs to be asked and it’s definitely not news to him. We’ve spoken about this before. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten, so what exactly is going on here?
The awkward silence seems to drag on forever as Hamm rocks back in his chair thoughtfully, pensive and somewhat remorseful while Maverick looks like a fucking closed-mouthed Cheshire cat.
I can’t bear it anymore. “Have I done something wrong? Are my grades not high enough? Is it my community hours, because I can make some time for more volunteering. I’d have to move some stuff around but if I need to then I can ju-”
Hamm waves his hand, cutting me off mid plea.
“Your grades are fine. Let me describe the situation to you, Beth.” He sighs, the frown resting in his brow growing deeper. “You and Maverick both have quite a bit to lose. You are two very talented people with a lot of potential, but you both need help to get there. Maverick is facing deportation. You are facing the ruination of your academic career. You have the opportunity right now to help one another.”
I frown. What on earth would I want to help Maverick for?
“I’m sorry, but why am I facing the ruination of my academic career?”
Maverick grins revealing unnaturally white and perfectly aligned teeth. I bet his whole mouth is worth more than my apartment.
Snob.
“Because you’re the only one who can help me, and if you don’t, your scholarship is forfeit. Isn’t that obvious?”
My eyes widen and I stared at Hamm, who refuses to meet my eyes.
“Is that true?” My voice comes out in a whisper, squeezing through the filter of fear seizing both my lungs.
Coach leans forward, wiping his brow.
“Look girlie, it’s like this. Maverick needs a green card if he’s going to make it to the title game. He’s gonna get drafted, but only if he’s there. If he doesn’t keep his nose clean, he’s gonna get deported either way. We need someone to keep him... legal. He’s gotta be legal in the country, and he’s gotta not get in trouble with the cops.”
“You’re asking me to babysit Maverick?” I squeak, my mind reeling from all this madness.
“Who’s a baby? We’re telling you to either marry me and keep your scholarship plus fifty thousand dollars, or you lose your scholarship and I lose my visa.” Maverick snarls at me.
Blackmail. This whole mess feels a lot like blackmail, and they all seem to be in on it. Even Dean Hamm.
So much for my safety net, I guess.
“I could report you, you know.” There’s a trace of hope in my voice that I can hear dying even in my own ears.
Hamm smiles sadly. “To whom?”
“Blackmail is illegal,” I respond with more conviction than I actually feel. I can feel the earth falling out from under me but I’m going to go out swinging. I know my rights damn it!
The Coach looks like he’s about to wheel at me, but Hamm waves a hand at him to silence him. I’ve never liked him. No loss there.
“That is true. Do you care to re-read your student handbook, Beth? Specifically chapter eight, section 31.B.”
I frown at him in confusion. He picks a handbook up off of his desk and reads out loud.
“If any student instigates legal action against the school or any employees therein, any scholarships, awards, achievements, or merits are immediately forfeit. It goes on, but I believe you can extrapolate from that the actual reality of this whole situation.”
“So you’re screwed either way,” Maverick says lazily, “Unless you marry me of course. Then you get to keep everything, plus, did I mention? Fifty. Thousand. Dollars.”
I can feel mad blackbirds clawing frantically at my throat, trying desperately to escape as my chest closes in on me.
Of course I need the money, and of course I can’t afford to lose the scholarship, and of course I hadn’t read the damn fine print about litigation because, you know, silly me! I never imagined I would need to take legal action against the school.
I glare at Maverick’s stupid smirking face. I can’t believe I’m even considering babysitting this major-league asshole.
“How long do I need to stay married to him?”
4
Maverick
Holy shit, she’s going to do it.
My jaw is itching to hit the floor, but I keep it together. No need for her to know how shocked I actually am.
The Dean shrugs. “Just until he gets drafted, I suppose. He should be able to handle his own immigration after that, assuming he can keep himself out of trouble. Either way, he won’t be my problem after graduation, so you can do as you like.”
Coach gives a pleading look, but the Dean ignores him.
“What am I supposed to tell my parents?” Beth asks.
Her parents? Seriously? My gosh she’s so annoying.
“Does it matter?” I wrinkle my nose. “You’re eighteen years old. aren’t you? You don’t need to ask them for permission and they can’t say a bloody thing.”
She raises a cold eyebrow at me. “They can say plenty. I’m not sure what kind of barn you grew up in but some of us actually respect our parents, thank you very much.”
I scoff, and she rolls her eyes. I’m already beginning to regret my decision.
I shrug. “Well obviously you don’t want the money, so I’ll go find someone who does.”
“I didn’t say that,” she grunts through her teeth. “I just want to know if any of you have even thought that far ahead.”
“It’s a whirlwind romance,” Coach says, his eyes sparkling. “You’ll tell them you’ve been dating him in secret for a couple of years, you didn’t want to tell them because he’s British—”
<
br /> “Excuse me? Being British is a crime, I suppose?”
She levels a baleful look at me. “On second thought, they’ll know right away why I didn’t want to tell them about you. I just hope my dad doesn’t disown me.” She sighs sulkily. “When will you pay me? Who will pay me?”
Now we’re talking.
“I will,” I nod. “You’ll get ten thousand now, fifteen when it’s official, and the other twenty-five after I get drafted.”
“And if you don’t get drafted?” she asks with a ridiculous seriousness in her face.
Coach and I share a stunned look, then break into laughter. “Not get drafted? Are you serious? Have you ever seen me play?”
“Can’t really avoid it around here, can I?”
“Then you know I’m good enough. Heck, I’m more than good, I’m the best here and top five in this whole state. Not get drafted,” I chuckle under my breath.
“I know you’re good enough to wrap these two around your grimy little fingers, but that doesn’t seem to take much,” she claps back.
I can’t even be angry. She is too funny.
“Look turtle, I’m as good as the pros and better than some. I’ll get drafted the second a scout sees me play.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you have your whole life planned out. I won’t do this without a contingency. If you don’t get drafted, how long am I expected to stay married to you? How long will it be before I get the second half of the money?”
I can see Coach gearing up to jump to my defense, but I wave him down with a lazy hand. “Let’s not argue about all that. A contingency is what you want, yes? Then here it is. If I am not drafted right out of high school, then I will expect you to remain married to me through college or for as long as it takes for me to get drafted while in college. I’ll pay you an additional fifty thousand per year until I do get drafted.”
“No. That won’t be necessary. I’m not marrying you because I give a shit about you. I’d be marrying you for two reasons and two reasons only. I need the money and you need your green card. Whatever the hell you want to do after both those things happen is really nothing I care about. You’ll have gotten that green card long before we’re done with college and I’ll be done with you long before then too.”
Vile Intentions: A Dark Sports Bully Romance Page 2
