Sinful Secrets (Savannah Sharks Hockey and Mafia #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

SAVANNAH

Large raindrops pelt the windshield of my nitrous blue 2016 Ford Focus as the sky opens up.

“So much for the rain staying at a drizzle today.” I say to myself as I slow down and turn the knob to make my wipers move faster.

Getting soaked before class wasn’t the plan, but my fashion design class is too long and intense to sit through on an empty stomach.

Luck must be on my side, because I find a parking spot close to the entrance of the dining hall and park as I wait for the rain to slack.

It doesn’t.

I turn off my car and make a beeline to the entrance. Like other students, I’m soaking wet and dripping on the non slip mats.

The woman in front of me sighs as she tries to dry off her arms and legs with the thin napkins the college graciously provides in the dining hall. “We should have a covered parking garage and covered breezeways to keep us from getting soaked.”

I chuckle. “That would be better than eating and attending class in soaking wet clothes.”

But there’s no way for them to make that happen unless they demolish nearby buildings and build a parking garage in their spot. Or rip up one of the few parks nearby.

I walk straight to the section of the dining hall with pre-made grab and go lunches. Looking over the options, I grab a turkey club sandwich, a bag of BBQ chips, and a bottle of soda before heading to the cashier.

I swipe my meal card, but the card is denied.

“Try again, honey.” The older woman says with a polite smile.

Swiping the card again yields the same results. “I don’t understand why it’s not working. The semester just started, so there’s no way I went through all the credits already.”

The older woman’s smile fades as she gives me a look of pity. “Just take the food and try to get the issue sorted before dinner.”

Thank God no one else is in line behind me. I’d probably die of embarrassment if this happened during a rush. “I can’t do that. That’s stealing from the college.”

“It will be our little secret.” She smiles and winks like it’s an inside joke between the two of us.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” I can’t have that on my conscience, or that bad karma following me around.

She shakes her head and her short tight curls gently sway. “No. If you don’t take the food, I will have to throw it away. Then it will be wasted. At least this way, you can get food on your stomach before dealing with the financial office.”

She’s not going to let me leave without taking the meal with me. “Thank you. I’ll grab some cash and come right back.”

“That’s not necessary. Save your money for dinner in case you can’t get your card working again.”

“Thank you.” I say before heading toward the main doors.

The rain is long gone despite only a few minutes passing, and the sun is already peeking through the clouds, making the air muggy and miserable.

That’s the south, though. Raining one minute and sun shining the next, leaving it feeling like a swampy sauna outside.

I throw my lunch in the passenger seat and turn the air on full blast before backing out of the parking spot and driving straight to my dorm.

The concrete is bone dry here, like the rain skipped this block. Several guys throw a football back and forth while a few women lie on the grass, enjoying the sun.

“Heads up!” A guy yells a second before the football comes whizzing by my head.

I let out a yelp and jump to the side as the guy jogs toward me.

“Sorry about that.” He chuckles as he bends down to pick up the ball.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble as I walk past him.

This is just one of the downfalls of being in a co-ed dorm. I’d rather be in an all female, calm and quiet dorm. The guys are too rambunctious and always partying.

Most of the time, they don’t care if they inconvenience other students and make it hard for us to get sleep. They are here to have a good time and get a bullshit degree.

I’m here to learn about fashion and hopefully grow an empire one day.

I take the stairs up to the second floor to my suite and unlock the door. The television is already blaring. I guess Justine is already back from her graphic design class for the day.

In and out. Grab some cash and then head to class so I can eat and get started on my next design.

I open the door and freeze. Not only is Justine home from class early, but she’s also straddling the lap of my ex-boyfriend, Connor.

Her eyes widen to saucers when she turns around and sees me standing in the doorway.

“What the fuck, Justine?” My voice comes out as a whisper, even though I’m raging inside.

I always knew Connor was capable of doing something horrible like this, but never in a million years did I expect Justine to stoop this low. We’ve been roommates for the past three years, and until now, I always thought we were friends.

We’ve helped each other study for exams. We bought snacks and drinks for each other when we were having a bad day. And we ate ice cream and cried together after break ups.

Justine rolls her eyes. “What Savannah? We are all adults here, and if I recall, we are all single.”

I huff, not wanting to argue with her over semantics. “Yeah, okay, but I didn’t choose to end the relationship. He did.” I angrily thrust my pointer finger toward Connor.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry you had to walk in and see Connor and me together like this, but you were supposed to be getting lunch and then going to class.”

So it’s okay because I was supposed to be gone? How long have they been hiding this from me? Were they ever going to come clean about their relationship?

I ball my hands into tight fists, digging my nails into the flesh of my palms. Pain shoots through my hand, but I keep my fists hanging down at my sides.

“My meal card didn’t work, so I came home to grab some cash. Now I wish I had skipped lunch and went straight to class.”

I have always hated confrontation, ever since I was younger.

I’ve been pretty lucky over the past three years and have only had a couple of confrontations. One of them being the breakup with Connor just three weeks ago.

This isn’t a good time for confrontation, especially when I need to focus on class and my future designs, so I turn around and leave, not bothering to close or lock the door. Taking the stairs down to the lobby, I wipe the traitorous tears away.

I’ve already cried over Connor. I’ll be damned if he gets any more of my tears. He’s not worth my time or energy.

I jump into my driver’s seat and drive away from my dorm building as fast as I can, completely forgetting to grab the cash I came home to get.

I should go back and get some cash for dinner, but every fiber of my being is begging me to stay away, and like usual, I’m going to listen to my gut and avoid a fight.

Maybe one day, I’ll learn to stick up for myself and speak my mind, but until then, I’ll avoid Connor and Justine like the plague.

I park in front of the administrative and financial offices. As soon as I step inside, the women in the office whisper like they know about my situation.

Is this happening to more students? Or is this strictly a Savannah Whitlock issue?

The woman at the sign-in desk pushes her glasses up her nose. “Ah, yes. We were expecting you, Miss Whitlock.”

I guess that is my answer. It’s a problem for only me.

“I just tried getting lunch, but my meal card was denied. Is there a problem with my card?”

“Come to my office, dear, and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

I step around the tall reception desk to the corner office. I take a seat in the chair in front of her desk as she shuts the door.

Feeling anxious, I ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She types something on her computer.

“Did I somehow use up my entire meal plan?”

What could be wrong? And why did no one tell me there was a problem?

The woman sighs and turns her computer screen around so I can see my file. “There is a mistake with your scholarship.”

I scan the screen for anything to clue me in, but I don’t see anything. “What mistake? It’s the same scholarship that it has been for the past three years.”

The woman points to the side of the screen. “They gave it to someone else. A different student.”

How is that possible?

“But I was promised four paid years with this scholarship.”

My heart races and my mind wanders as I think about all the potential outcomes. None of them are good for me. None of them involve me graduating this year and starting the fashion empire of my dreams.

“I don’t make the rules. I don’t even have a say in the scholarship. An alumnus gives the scholarship every year, and he decides who gets the scholarship.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about my last year here?”

“That is for you to decide, but we need the money in a week.”

“How much is a year of tuition with room and board and a meal plan?”

“Keeping your meal plan and your dorm assignment the same, it will be just over fifty-eight thousand.”

My mouth falls open as I chuckle.

Did I hear her right? Fifty-eight thousand dollars? I can’t afford that, let alone have that much money in a week.

My chuckle grows into a full-blown laugh.

The woman stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

Maybe I have.

“What other options do I have? I have nowhere to go and no one to ask for a loan, especially of this magnitude, and I can’t come up with that much money at once, let alone in a week’s time.”

The woman types on her computer, pulling up another screen.

“We can give you thirty days to pay for the first quarter.”

“And how much is that?” My brain refuses to even try to figure that out. It’s still stuck on the scholarship being taken away.

The woman clicks the button on her mouse and highlights $14,503.50.

“Thirty days to come up with fourteen thousand dollars? Do they think I have a money tree growing somewhere or a sack of cash hidden in my closet?”

The woman’s expression morphs into a concerned motherly one. Not that I know what that looks like. My mom has never looked at me the way this woman is looking at me right now.

I have no other choice but to look for an after class job. But even a great paying job won’t be enough to cover this quarter’s fees.

The walk back to my car is on autopilot. I don’t look at anyone. I don’t speak. I just head straight there and plop down in the driver’s seat.

Tears form in my eyes before falling down my cheeks. I feel hollow, like nothing matters anymore. This is my dream, and it’s being ripped from me.

After several minutes, my tears subside as a tiny ember burns in my heart.

There has to be a way I can come up with tuition. Maybe I can start a fundraiser or sell some of my designs.

Either way, if I want to start an empire, I need to learn to overcome obstacles.

I start my car and turn the air conditioner on as I grab my bottle of water. I might as well take my time eating lunch and skip class.

What’s the point of going to class if I get kicked out because I can’t come up with the money?

I’ve always done the right thing and consider myself a good person. I donate to charity when I have the space cash. I volunteer at soup kitchens during the holidays. I spend weekends at the nursing homes, spending time with the elderly. And even read to children at the library.

So why is this happening to me?

I scarf down my sandwich and keep the chips for later. Needing a mood boost, I back out of my parking spot and drive toward the museum.

A car honks his horn behind me as I’m leaving the campus. He continues to honk as he cuts me off. I have to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting him, causing the car behind me to bump into my car.

I pull over into a side parking lot, but the student behind me flees.

Just fucking great.

After parking, I get out and look at the back bumper. There is a little damage, and I’ll have to get someone to pop the dent out, but it could have been a lot worse.

Bad things always happen in threes.

First, my scholarship is rescinded. Second, someone rear ends me.

What’s next?

I get to the museum with no other issues and park in my normal parking spot. No one ever comes here unless there is a new art show or fundraiser.

I wave to the security guy, Alvin, who is eating a doughnut and drinking his normal everyday caramel latte. “I see you’re hard at work.”

He narrows his eyebrows at me. “I see you’re not in class. What’s going on?”

I’ve known him for the past three years. He knows me better than my own father does.

“I need to get a job. Do you know anyone hiring that pays amazing and will work with my class schedule?”

He thinks for a moment before saying, “My daughter is an ice girl for the local hockey team and can probably get you a job at the arena.”

That would be a fun and interesting job.

“Will they work with my schedule?”

He chuckles. “Most of the games are at night and on the weekends, so you won’t be in class, and most of the girls are also in college, so they usually schedule practice during off times.”

“That would be great.”

It won’t be nearly enough money, but it will be a steady job if I can’t complete this year.

“I’ll call my daughter and find you inside.”

“Thank you, Alvin. Even if she can’t get me a job, I still appreciate you trying.”

I turn away from him and head towards the steps to the main doors of the art museum. Missing the top step, I fall back and slam into the sidewalk, landing on my ass. That doesn’t hurt as much as the throbbing pain radiating through my ankle.

I guess I just found out what number three is.