Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“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 expand south, 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.”
Dean Holmes shook his head. “Mr. Carter, you are hereby suspended.” He listed off every infraction Sail had committed. He was double penalized because he was the president of the fraternity and therefore held at a higher standard. “You have twenty-four hours to remove yourself from campus.”
“I’ll file an appeal.” Sail thought this was the right avenue to take.
Holmes scoffed. “You can, but I can make sure your hearing isn’t until December. You’re welcome to come back in January, but you will be on probation as well.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
Dean Holmes stood and gathered his things. “This isn’t a concern for the university, Mr. Carter. What is, are the many students sprawled all over this house, passed out. Do yourself a favor, get help.”
With those parting words, the dean of students left the house, and the clock started ticking on Sail’s life in Miami.
galvin
. . .
Galvin Winters pulled alongside the curb and put her ancient but extremely reliable four-door Camry into park. She allowed the car to idle while she took in the surroundings. For years, she’d listened to her father, Martin, tell stories about the few spring and summer vacations he spent in Seaport with his college buddy, Jack Carter. Having lived on the west coast her entire life, she never had a chance or reason to visit. Until now.
The sound of horns and motors caught her attention. She looked across the cobblestone road and waited for a group of walkers to pass by. A smile formed as Galvin took in the scenery before her. Boats of all sizes lined the wooden docks—or were they piers—and swayed slightly from the ebb and flow of the water. Out farther, there were yachts anchored in the middle of nothing, swaying briskly when other boats motored by. She’d never been on a boat and figured she would need to rectify this soon if she was going to live by the water.
Glancing at the building she parked next to, she sighed as she looked at Carter’s Diner. People crammed into the booths, stood in line by the door, and swiveled back and forth on their stool at the counter. Galvin had looked the diner up online to get a feel for where she’d be working. She’d been skeptical when she saw #1 Diner in all of New England in bold across their website, but by the look of things, they weren’t wrong.
The key to her future was inside those walls, with the people gathered in there. She needed money for law school to offset the measly loan the school and financial aid department had given her. Ever since she watched shows like Perry Mason and Matlock with her grandma, Galvin had wanted to be a lawyer, and she would work her fingers to the bone to become one.