Author's Note: This chapter has been updated as of 11/23/2020. I added Michael's reaction to the news of the scandal, and broke the chapter into a second part. An eighth chapter will follow.

Chapter 7: Problems for the Morning After

Monday, October 27, 2014 - Part 1 (MORNING)

Patrick woke slowly, squinting his eyes against the sunlight flooding the room. Other elements of his surroundings began to filter in, and he was momentarily surprised by his own sense of disorientation. He'd thought he was in the guest room; noise from the street outside began to register, as well as the warmth from another body next to his. He recognized the bed he was in as his own, knowing then that he was in his room, and the realization felt like a small victory against whatever the dream had meant.

His head was pounding like someone had hit him as he rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand, the time was 10AM. When had he drifted off? The night had seemed endless and he didn't remember falling asleep. Tracey woke beside him, rising from the bed while yawning and stretching on her way to the bathroom. Patrick groggily swung his legs over the side, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He felt the stubble that had formed on his face as he raked his hands over it.

Just then the dog came prancing into the bedroom. She walked right up to the bathroom door, laying down in front of it, anticipating Tracey's exit, who was pleasantly surprised when she opened the door. Tracey chose to take the dog downstairs to let her out. While she did this Patrick took his turn in the bathroom. He was in the process of shaving when Tracey returned, perching herself on the edge of the tub, watching him scrape the stubble from his face.

The steel razor cut a stripe through the shaving cream, the line of tanned and healthy-looking skin contrasting sharply against the white foam. This caused Patrick to suddenly think of his father, watching him shave Sunday mornings before the 10 o'clock mass, back in that brief, happy time in his childhood before his mother died. How old had he been when that happened? Five? Six? Patrick was thirty-two now, older than his mother had ever been.

He recalled it all so clear, she had laid down to take a nap on the couch, a bottle of liquor still in her hands. His father came home from work to find her lying there, supposedly passed out drunk. Patrick watched as his father tried to wake her, but she wouldn't get up. No one would tell him why. He hated that he remembered his mother that way, a depressed alcoholic, whom had literally drank herself to death.

Using a moist washcloth, he wiped away the remaining traces of shaving cream from his face.

"Did I get it all?" Patrick asked.

Tracey stood up. "Uh, not quite. You missed a spot."

"Where?"

"There's still some right there." She gestured to his lips then kissed him.

He noticed her make a face as they pulled apart. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"The smell of your shaving cream doesn't agree with me."

She stepped out of the bathroom to get some air. Patrick followed after her. He heard Tracey's stomach make an audible grumbling noise.

"We should get you both fed."

She looked at him puzzled. "Both?"

"Yeah, you and the baby."

They head downstairs to the kitchen where Patrick got started on making breakfast. He gathered up all the ingredients needed to make pancakes, mixing it in a large bowl, before pouring it into a skillet. He flipped the pancakes once more to make sure they were done. Hot and ready to serve, he scooped them up onto two plates. Patrick and Tracey sat across from each other at the dining table, enjoying their meal in comfortable silence. Until it was broken by her.

"Is something troubling you?"

He shakes his head. "No. Why do you ask?"

She swallows her last bite of pancake before replying. "I may not be an expert with emotions, but I do know when people are feeling uneasy."

He smiles lazily. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

He desperately wants to tell her about everything that's been troubling him lately. The disciplinary action letter he received a few days ago, the way he behaved at Linda's, and the nightmare he had last night. But he doesn't feel quite ready to tell her. Instead, he shrugs, giving a simple answer.

"Stuff."

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but you need to understand that I'm always here if you need to…" she ponders. "Hmm, what's the appropriate word… vent."

He lets out a sigh before speaking, deciding to confess. "I've been thinking about us." Patrick stares at her catching her gaze. "Do I deserve you? Are we right for each other?"

Tracey's mouth hangs slightly agape, eyes open wide in shock. She can't believe he's saying this considering he proposed to her last night. Was he having doubts?

"What made you think this?" Devastation and bitterness are non-existent in her tone, something Patrick had thought she would feel. Instead, it's laced with concern.

He sucks in a breath, waiting a few seconds to gather the words. "I just feel like we're so different. If you understand."

Tracey simply sits there, taking in his words, his expression only changing in little eyebrow movements, creasing and furrowing together.

She takes her turn to speak. "What makes you say that?"

He looks at her, slightly taken aback. "Tracey, I'm ⏤" before mentioning that he's her Professor, he decides that's a weak argument, so he disputes their age difference. "I'm 10-years older than you. That's a huge age gap." She lets out a scoff as he continues. "Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable with someone your own age, with whom you have things in common with, and can better relate to. Plus, we're not even close to the same level in life." At this point she has scooted out of her chair, standing before him. "Try to understand where I'm coming from."

Tracey holds his gaze with tear-filled eyes. "I understand just fine! I'm sorry that I'm not better educated, as well-spoken, employed, or good enough to be with you in general from the sounds of it!"

She storms off up stairs, slamming the door behind her. Patrick gets up from his seat, makes it to the bottom of the staircase, and hesitates. Knowing she needs time and space, he decides to leave her be. Tracey paces back and forth. Until she's startled by her phone. Her friend Stephanie sent her a text message.

STEPHANIE: You there

TRACEY: I'm here, what's up?

STEPHANIE: Remember when u asked me if anyone talked 2 me

TRACEY: Yeah what's ur point

STEPHANIE: My point is … There's this guy asking around 4 u

TRACEY: 😕 What guy?

STEPHANIE: Uh, he's a cop. Well, more like a detective

TRACEY: Did u speak 2 him

STEPHANIE: Yeah

TRACEY: And?! What'd he want? What did u tell him?

STEPHANIE: He asked if I knew u, I said "Yes." He asked if we were friends, I said "Yes." He asked if we shared any classes, I said "Yes." Then he asked when I saw u last

TRACEY: What did u say

STEPHANIE: I told him that I haven't seen u since Fall break, which is technically true since all we've been doing lately is texting

TRACEY: What else did he say

STEPHANIE: That's it. He pretty much asked everyone else the same thing

TRACEY: Everyone?

STEPHANIE: Yeah professors too… Speaking of they asked around about Professor Jefferies

TRACEY: …

STEPHANIE: Y'know our Creative Writing teacher…

TRACEY: Oh, yeah

STEPHANIE: They wanted to know if and when anyone saw or spoke to him last

TRACEY: And…

STEPHANIE: The only person who had was Professor Garrison

TRACEY: Our American Literature teacher? Why'd they ⏤ what'd she say?

STEPHANIE: IDK. I just saw them pull her aside to speak with her in her office so I didn't hear anything. Why do u ask?

TRACEY: No reason. I was just wondering. Hey, thnx 4 keeping me posted 🙂

STEPHANIE: Ur welcome! What r friends 4? 🙂

TRACEY: Anything else I should know about

STEPHANIE: Yeah, Ryan's been asking me about u

TRACEY: U didn't tell him that…

STEPHANIE: OMG chill! I didn't tell him that ur… ya know.

TRACEY: U can't even say "pregnant" can u

STEPHANIE: Nope. Too weird. That and as ur friend I'm tryin' 2 B sensitive

TRACEY: Ur sweet, but u can say pregnant. It won't offend me

STEPHANIE: Still not comfortable with that word…

TRACEY: Ok

STEPHANIE: When r u coming back 2 school

TRACEY: Not anytime soon

STEPHANIE: Why not?

TRACEY: I don't want people talking about me

STEPHANIE: They don't already…

TRACEY: That was a cheap shot. 😡 Even 4 u

STEPHANIE: Sorry, I wasn't trying 2 B mean

TRACEY: All is 4given

STEPHANIE: Can't talk. Bell just rang. Got 2 go 2 my next class. TTYL

TRACEY: Why did u txt me then? Nevermind. Bye

STEPHANIE: 🙂

TRACEY: 🙂

Meanwhile, across town on the ULSA campus, in Professor Garrison's office, a Detective is questioning her regarding Patrick's whereabouts. The Detective stands, jotting notes in a notepad. Linda is seated at her desk sorting through a stack of papers. She queries his name having been distracted when he first introduced himself.

"What did you say your name was again?"

He stops writing, looking up from his notes.

"Hmmm? Oh, forgive me. I'm Detective Pierce."

Detective Pierce enjoyed his job, but in all his years of police work, this was his first time investigating a college. When the case file landed on his desk he feared the worst; a rape, a murder. He was relieved to discover it was just a case of misconduct. However, he was appalled at the lack of information provided. All the dossier included was a Disciplinary Action filed against one of the Professors for sexual misconduct, but if failed to mention the compliant. Once he arrived on campus the Dean informed him that the compliant wished to remain anonymous.

The detective scribbles something in his notes before getting started.

"Mrs. Garrison?"

She stopped sorting through her papers, shooting him a stern look before correcting him. "Actually it's Miss. I'm not married."

"Right, Miss. Uh, Miss Garrison…"

"If it helps you can just call me Linda."

Detective Pierce flashes her a small smile. "Linda."

Once he's done questioning her, she sees Detective Pierce out of her classroom. They stand in the doorway, shaking hands before parting their separate ways.

"Thanks again, Professor Garrison. You've been most helpful."

She smiles at him. "You're welcome Detective!"

He looks back at her once more before turning to walk away. "Have a nice day!"

"You too!"

Linda double checks to make sure he's definitely heading the opposite direction, before hurriedly closing her classroom door. She leans up against it, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd never felt so nervous in her entire life; holding up a hand she noticed it was trembling.

Patrick what have you gotten yourself into? She thought.

A crowd of students, including Stephanie Davis, are gathered around Miss Garrison's classroom door. For once Stephanie's glad that she isn't the only one that's late. She wonders why they're all standing outside, so she asks the guy standing next to her.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Apparently Miss Garrison just left."

Stephanie was confused. "Left? Professor's don't just leave in the middle of the day."

"Well, she did."

Professor Simon, whose classroom is across the hall from Miss Garrison's, noticed the crowd of students gathered in the hall.

"What are you all doing out here? You should all be in class," he scolded.

"Don't you think we would if we could?" remarks a student, pointing in front of himself.

Professor Simon approaches the head of the crowd. He notices a handwritten note taped to Miss Garrison's door.

DONE FOR THE DAY. GO TO YOUR NEXT CLASS.

⏤ PROFESSOR GARRISON

The crowd of students are sent into an uproar. Professor Simon gets a handle on the situation, suggesting they all go to the common area to study.

Linda went to the Dean's office in hopes he'd be able to tell her what was going on, but his secretary informed her that he wasn't there.

No one's around when you need them, she thought.

She goes to the faculty parking lot, which is swamped by news vans from different local stations. One of them had her vehicle blocked preventing her from leaving.

With the help of campus security, eventually, Linda was able to get to her vehicle. She headed straight to Patrick's in hopes he'd be able to give her the answers she was seeking. She stood on his doorstep, rang the doorbell, and was surprised to hear a small dog barking. With the events that took place last night, and earlier this morning, he had yet to take the dog back to the pet store. Patrick placed the dog in the Study for now while he answered the door.

"No barking!" he called over his shoulder. "Linda?"

Patrick was shocked. He couldn't believe she was on his doorstep. What could she possibly want at this hour?

"Since when do you have a dog?" she asked, stepping past him, helping herself inside.

Patrick closed the front door. "I… What are you doing here?"

Linda swiped the TV remote off of the end table, turning it on. "Have you seen the news?"

"No, why…"

The TV was already tuned into the news showing live coverage of the University. It was a media circus with reporters, and camera crews, all wanting coverage of the latest scandal that unfolded regarding the reports of misconduct. At the helm of it all was Robert Hall, the President of the University, who was currently being interviewed by reporters.

[on the television; Hall commenting on the scandal] "Obviously I have seen the images and I do find them troubling."

Someone took promotional images from Tracey's Fame or Shame page and photoshopped them to appear like she was dancing suggestively for Patrick.

"I would like to say however that we must not rush to judgement. I am sure Professor Jefferies has a good explanation for what we've all clearly seen, and this issue will be resolved pretty quickly."

[a reporter asks] "What do you believe the explanation will be?"

"That's not for me to say."

[another reporter asks] "Do you know Professor Jefferies personally?"

"We've worked together for the University; I've always found him to be an exceptional and forthright young man."

[a third reporter asks] "Will this affect the image of ULSA?"

Robert isn't use to experiencing this kind of public scrutiny. He tries to be professional. To remain poised. But he cracks under pressure; blatantly making his next remark.

"Let me put it to you this way. Those images to me, tell only one story ⏤ it's distasteful. It's not a good one for young Mister Jefferies."

On that note, Robert ends the press conference as two campus security guards clear a path for him to exit.

Linda turns off the television. Patrick is in shock, unable to speak. He takes a seat on the couch. All that he feared has come to light in a very public manner. There was no hiding or denying anything from anyone any longer. Linda stood there waiting for some sort of explanation.

He looked up, his eyes were drawn to her. Their eyes met. And yet, the look in her eyes was enough to keep him where he sat. They were full of hurt, accusations, surprise, and anger. It was staggering to be on the receiving end of such a look. He gave an outward sigh. He never thought he'd find himself in this position; with a lot to answer for, and people to answer to.

"Where and how do I begin?"

"Let's start with the truth," said Linda. "Is any of it true?"

Patrick shakes his head. "It's photoshopped. Those pictures aren't real."

Linda grew frustrated, raising her voice. "You know what I mean!"

The dog gets worked up, barking in the Study. Patrick gestures for Linda to lower her voice.

She gets defensive. "Don't shush me. I demand to know what the hell's going on!"

"No. Not you. I'm trying to get the dog to stop…"

Tracey hears the dog barking, deciding to venture downstairs to see what the cause is for the commotion. She wonders why Patrick locked her in the Study, so she lets the dog out. Tiffy runs straight for the living room where Patrick and Linda are. Tracey follows behind.

"I thought you said you'd take her back to the…" Tracey stops mid sentence. "…pet store." She's surprised at the sight of Miss Garrison in the living room.

Linda looks at her in disbelief. "Tracey?"

"Miss Garrison?"

The dog continues barking. Tracey scoops her up, hoping that will get her to stop. Linda turned to look at Patrick. Part of her already knew the answer to her next question, but she bothered asking anyway.

"What is she doing here?"

Patrick stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but words failed him.

"Me?" said Tracey. "Why are you here?"

Both women began arguing.

Patrick yells at them. "STOP!" He talks to them in a calmer tone. "Both of you just… take a seat."

Linda and Tracey sat at opposite ends of the couch. They watch him anxiously pace back and forth attempting to find his words. Linda begins to rise up from her seat, but he stops her.

"Don't get up."

She sits back down.

There was a slight tremor in his voice as he explained himself. "She… "

"You're going to have to be more specific," said Linda.

Patrick sighed. "Tracey." He paused. "Tracey's…"

"Sleeping with you?" Linda interjected. Assuming that was the point he was getting at.

"Pregnant." He finally managed to say.

Linda's world came crashing down around her. Only instead of quick and painless it was more like slow motion. But painful nonetheless. Her pain was too much. The pain he caused. Hadn't he done enough damage? Patrick seemed unaware of the turmoil in her mind.

"Did you hear what I said?" she heard Patrick say.

Linda just nodded to indicate she understood. Her mind, however, is already far away from the conversation. It wasn't even in the same room. She rose slowly from the couch standing before Patrick. She slapped him hard. She didn't say another word as she took a few steps back and turned on her heels to run away from him. Away from his life. She half jogged, half ran down the walkway to get to her vehicle. She couldn't leave fast enough, fumbling with her keys, struggling to buckle her seat belt. Her hands were trembling because she felt so flustered.

How could I be so blind? She thought.

A pounding noise on the side of her vehicle startled her from her thoughts. It was Patrick. He tapped on the window, trying to get her attention. For a split second she thought about rolling it down so they could talk. Another part of her was screaming, "Get the hell out of here," which is exactly what she did. He watched as she turned the car over, backed up, and sped off down the street, around the corner, and possibly out of his life forever.

Patrick felt beside himself given all that had unfolded. He didn't mean for Linda to find out about he and Tracey's relationship the way that she had. He meant to tell her in his own time. No thanks to the local news their relationship was now broadcasted to all of Los Santos. Before the scandal he was viewed as a bright, talented, college professor with a promising career and a future. But now he was considered a sleazy, unprofessional, whom sleeps with his students, and his career on the line.

He hung his head in shame while heading back inside the house. Eight weeks. Eights weeks is all the time that it took for his life to go from "simple" to "complicated". Deciding that he needed some time alone to think he chose to isolate himself in the privacy of his Study. He sat at his desk, leaning back in the chair, trying to rack his brain over how his personal life became so public.

It was ten o'clock in the morning. The De Santa's were far from being "morning people", but Michael and Amanda were both up, sitting on the couch in the living room, watching television. They were waiting for the previous program to end because the movie Nelson in Naples would follow. It was one of Michael's favorites produced by Solomon Richards, and he couldn't wait to see the cable premiere. He was so thrilled to finally be sharing something that he loved with his wife.

"Man, this is so exciting!" enthused Michael. "This movie is a Vinewood classic." He got up from the couch ensuring his wife he'd return. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Amanda asked yawning.

"To make some coffee." He called over his shoulder, heading into the kitchen.

She watched as the movie started without him. The opening credits began to roll, so she called for him to come back.

"Honey, You're missing it!"

Just then the movie was interrupted by a local broadcast. A female news anchor came on the air.

[on the television] "We interrupt this program to bring you live coverage of the ULSA campus where news of a scandal has just broke."

Amanda covers her mouth with both hands while watching. She is in utter shock at the realization that the coverage is of her daughter's school. As the report continues she can't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen. She didn't even notice her husband had returned, and was sitting next to her. Until he speaks up.

"Hey, the coffee's brewing." He notices the disturbed look on his wife's face. "What's with you?" He looks at the TV. "Hey, what happened to the movie?"

Amanda reaches for the remote, but Michael is quicker than she is.

He presses a button on the remote. "It's still on the same channel." He looks closer at the screen. "Isn't that Tracey's school?"

The report continues.

[on the television] "This was the scene just moments ago where ULSA President Robert Hall addressed the scandal."

They both watch the footage of the speech being replayed followed by the photos of Tracey dancing suggestively for her professor. Amanda can tell her husband is thoroughly upset. Unsure of what to do, she grabs the remote from him, quickly turning off the television. He wordlessly gets up from the couch and goes into the kitchen.

"Alright, this ends right now!" He says angrily with his car keys in one hand, the other on the knob of the front door.

Amanda follows after him. "You're going to Patrick's aren't you?"

"I'm not going to tell you because then it would be premeditated. Let me go while it's still a crime of passion."

"Michael! You're not going anywhere." He opens the door. Amanda pleads. "Just… stop, okay! There's a sensible way to handle this. We have to go to the school and talk to the Dean. He can assemble everyone involved and mediate the situation."

Michael lets out a sigh of frustration. "I don't want mediating, I want ass-kicking! What Dean handles that?" he said leaving in a huff.

Deciding that he needed some time alone to think Patrick chose to isolate himself in the privacy of his study. He sat at his desk, leaning back in the chair, trying to rack his brain over how his personal life became so public. Just then there was loud knock on the front door.

[KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK]

"JEFFRIES!" Shouted an angry male voice.

Patrick raced to the living room peeking through the blinds to see if he could spot who it was. To his dismay he saw Tracey's father on the doorstep. Without hesitation, he quickly turns the deadbolt, locking the front door preventing him from entering.

Michael shouted again while pounding on the door. "Open up! I know you're in there because your car is still parked in the driveway!"

He shimmied the knob attempting to get in. Realizing it was locked he angrily threw his weight up against it. Sadly, the door didn't budge. He rubbed his shoulder knowing a bruise would form later. After a few moments of silence Patrick figured he gave up. He looked through the peephole, and quickly backed away from the door, which Michael violently kicked down. Tracey hears this, racing downstairs. Her instinct is to the follow the noise, so she heads into the living room.

She spots the front door, broken off its hinges, laying flat on the floor. Her mind automatically thinks the worst. OMG, an intruder has broken into the house! She wonders where Patrick is, but quickly remembers that he went to the pet store to return the dog. Scared, alone, and defenseless she decides to call for help. Just as she is about to dial 9-1-1 on her cellphone she hears an all too familiar voice coming from the study. Daddy?! He's not alone. Patrick is with him. As she nears the entrance of the study she hears her father shouting at him.

"A choice? You made a choice. And just like every other choice that every other human being has ever made it has a consequence. And you're about to pay it!"

She watches as they chase each other around opposite sides of the desk.

Thinking he's got him cornered, Michael smirks. "Nowhere to run."

"STOP!" Tracey commands.

Both men turn their attention to her. Patrick feels relieved. He didn't even want to imagine what her father would have done to him had she not intervened.

"Tracey," says Michael. "Get your things. It's time to go."

"Go? What, no, I'm not leaving."

Patrick steps in front to her. "She's not going anywhere. At least, not with you."