CHAPTER 6

Mackenzie

I had roommate Heath going to a party tonight, and I imagine the only reason I agreed to go was because I was trying to forget about that argument with Tony "Anaga" Zacks.

I mean, what are the odds?

Of all the schools within the state, we both attended the same school, and maybe my assumption about previous fortune was a bit premature. There was not one fortunate thing about running into this dude, and the fact that he seemed to have some pull where this school was involved wasn't great. I mean, he did say that his dad contributed financially, so there might be some pull involved.

At least we buried the hatchet.

He was eager to do so, and perhaps he was more mature than I might have thought he was. I might have stereotyped him as a typical jock, but perhaps because he wasn't playing football anymore, he didn't care about what I had done to him.

Like said, big of him.

Though, having seen him had been. disturbing. I'd just finished talking with Queens, and I wasn't too keen on the fact that the two of them had connections through Zacks's dad. These were things my mind definitely lingered on as Heath got me and some of the other photojournalism students some drinks. We wound up at a frat party, my first since being at college because I normally spent my evenings snapping pictures or actually getting real homework done.

Again, my head required a rest.

Heath had no problem at all offering us all beers but gave me the club soda I had ordered. I did not drink and nursed my soda as I scrolled through my phone. I had received a text from my mom today asking how my interview had gone. I hadn't responded, but of course getting a text from her took me off on checking what they were up to and what she and my stepfather were doing. They liked traveling a great deal, and it seemed they'd just come back from their holiday in Paris.

My thumb scrolled over them smiling in front of old attractions like the Louvre and Eiffel Tower, and another text beeped.

Mom: Hi, did you get my text? Hope everything was all right. Anton and I just got back from Paris. I got some cute little chocolates for you at a little cafe we went to. They're there at the house when you come back for break. smile emoji

My mother shouldn't really count on it, and tapping out of the text, I stole a sip from my mug. A soft laugh resonated beside me, and I looked up to see Heath gesturing with his beer at my phone.

"She's the only person I know who stays away from her mother more than I do," he stated to our crowd, elbowing me. My roommate was a dorky fellow, and we were only roommates because there'd been some sort of mix-up with the housing. Guys and girls typically didn't room together, but we gave it a shot and didn't dislike each other at all. He was also a hard worker, and since we both got along just fine, neither one of us ever complained about him.

Maybe I should with him telling everyone all my business. I shook my head. "My mom's a chatter."

She wasn't, not especially. But saying so was easier than telling him and the rest of our team that I simply didn't feel like talking to my mother. I had reasons, and they were none of theirs.

I got up from the couch, making as if I was going to use the bathroom. I managed to locate it quickly since there was a million and a half in this place. This was supposed to be campus frat. The best parties took place here, and the most rich and wealthy dwelled herein.

I kinda wondered if someone like Tony would show up, his namesake Anaga on the gridiron. I later found out that people used to call him that because of the beast-like way he moved on the field. The man killed dudes, not in real life but, yeah, he got the job done.

I suppose I'd researched him a bit more than I would have wished at the time, difficult not to given the number I'd run on his life. He'd had to sit out for the remainder of the season, and while his team had gone on to state and performed phenomenally, I can only assume it wasn't easy sitting on the sidelines.

And besides, what he did for you.

I hadn't instructed him to do what he did with that referee, him coming in on his white horse when I had been handled crap. I'd been fine, and I hadn't required him.

Why did he go and have to do that?

I was more troubled by that day, what he'd done, than I cared to admit. And I hadn't been deceiving him before, taking those photographs hadn't been done with malice. It was just my job, and what I thought of him and what he'd done to that ref was a whole other thing.

It had to be.