Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance (14 page)

“
T
hanks for meeting
us on a Sunday,” I say, shaking hands with the giant of a man who takes a seat across from April and I at the cafe downtown. Connor Nash is huge, and if he didn't want to be a lawyer, I’m pretty sure he'd be able to make a good living as one of my offensive linemen. There's a freaky amount of intelligence in his eyes as he takes a seat and the chair groans in appreciation as his bulk settles. “When April said she had a friend who was a paralegal, I didn't quite know what to expect.”

“When April called last night saying that she was dating one of the Fighters, and he’s in legal trouble, I didn't know what to expect either,” Connor states with a chuckle. “Especially when she said it was you. No offense, Mr. Paulson, but I spent a little bit of time after the phone call doing some research on you. Your reputation is . . . well, let's just say if reality matches the reports, you're going to need my law firm’s services more than once. In which case I'll need the same services, because I'll have to kill you.”

“Connor!” April chastises him, laughing. She looks at me and shakes her head. “Don't let his size intimidate you, he's just a big teddy bear. Actually, he owes me one for exactly that reason.”

“Oh? Well, I don’t think he has to worry. And please Connor, call me Tyler. I only get called Mr. Paulson when I'm in trouble.”

“In which case maybe Mr. Paulson might be better?” Connor jokes, then grows serious. “Sorry. It's one of my weaknesses, as the partners at the firm have pointed out numerous times while they review my articleship, what you might call my internship.”

“I thought you're a paralegal?” I ask, and Connor shrugs.

“The law's a little different up here, the way it's structured. April was being nice in translating it that way, but I'm really a law student. I've got a little more time in law school, then I take my Barrister's and Solicitor's exams. In the meantime, I'm working for my uncle at Montague, Nicholson and MacKay. He's a partner, but not one of the named ones. It's a decent position, and if I keep my studies up, I've got a chance at getting a slot with them as a first year associate soon enough. But, fill me in on the details. April said you've caught yourself a paternity suit?”

“Yeah, two at once,” I say, handing over the envelope. “Here, it'll save some time.”

While he reads the papers, the waitress comes over and I order coffees and biscotti for everyone.

Connor finishes reading and hands the papers back to me. “Until the firm officially signs papers with you, it's best if you hang onto that,” he says, then gives April and me an appreciative glance.

“I know what this says, but I'll be honest Tyler, I want to hear your side of things. You know, this is a pretty fantastical story.”

“I wish I had more to tell you,” I admit. “The hard part about all this is that I have almost no memory at all of meeting these women. I think April probably has a better memory of what happened than I do.”

Connor hums, and takes out a smartphone, where he starts tapping away, I guess taking notes. “April?”

“The two of us met up, we took a taxi to Ace High. I had a Cosmo while Tyler had a sangria. We danced once, Tyler said he was going to get some refills. I saw the two girls go up to him at the bar, and then he sort of got led away by them to the dance floor, where the three of them dry humped for a while, and then he left with them. I stuck around maybe ten minutes after that before I went home.”

April sees the painful look on my face, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“It's over,” she tells me with a smile. “We found each other after that.”

Connor taps his teeth with the stylus he's been using. I can understand. He's got hands like a lineman too. Trying to type on a touchscreen with his fingers must be impossible. “Tyler, you say your memory fades out soon after you meet the girls. It doesn’t sound like you had that much to drink. Did you have anything before then?”

“No, in fact, I made sure to load up on water beforehand. It's part of the reason the next day's hangover was so strange. I know how to avoid hangovers, and I've never gone to blackout drunk before.”

Connor nods. “And did you drink anything the girls offered you?”

“Um . . . I don't know,” I say, but April interrupts.

“You drank something at the bar with them,” she says. “I remember seeing that. You never even got your second order from the bartender. Two minutes later, the three of you were on the floor.”

Connor sighs. “Shit. There's no way to prove it, but…”

“What?” I ask, confused. April looks at me incredulously, as Connor looks at me the same way. “No, really. What?”

“You never heard of Rolax?” April asks. “You know, Rohypnol?”

“You mean date-rape drugs?” I say with a scowl of disgust.

“Sangria's a strong flavored drink, and there are some of the newer drugs out there, what some are calling party drugs, as fucked up as that sounds, that are pretty much flavorless, especially if they're dropped into a strongly flavored alcoholic drink like sangria. You said you had a headache, though?”

“Felt like an ax through my forehead. I remember that much. I thought it was just the dehydration.”

“Okay, well, it doesn't really matter at this point. Just . . . if there's any consolation, you may not have been in full control of yourself.”

I shake my head, not caring. “Doesn't really matter, does it? I know you're trying to be nice, but it can't be proven, and it won't change the fact that I'm being sued.”

“We'll see. Tyler, I'll be honest. If these girls are telling the truth and they are pregnant with your children, you're probably going to be on the hook for child support regardless of whether they drugged you.”

I nod. “If I got these women pregnant, I’ll man up. But I want to know for damn sure that they're mine first. I mean, what are the odds?” It was what had been twisting and turning in my mind ever since I read the paper from the process server, or whatever the fuck it is they're called in Canada. “Besides, I always follow the motto of ‘no glove, no love’.”

“Okay. Let me give my uncle a call. If you're mostly just looking for confirmation, that's a routine matter and won't be too difficult at all. We'll be in touch. Would it be okay if I routed everything through April? Just that you've got a busy job, and it'd be easier.”

“That’s fine. There won’t be any secrets between us from now on.”

* * *

“
Y
ou're looking better
.”

Vince and I are warming up, throwing light passes back and forth as we get ready for the hardest practice of the week, a day earlier than normal on Wednesday since Friday is a flying day for us. Coach is planning on doing a video session during the flight, but other than that Friday is travel and rest for us, with the game Saturday night, which is going to be tough with the time difference. Oh well, fuck it.

“Feeling better, too. Your advice was right, and to top it off, I worked things out between me and April. That was the main thing on my mind, not the legal issues.”

Despite Mr. Larroquette stating that the news wouldn't get out, it has, but I'm not worried. The gossip rags were the ones to break the story first, and so far my teammates have been cool about it. Even Lance, the horndog prick, has been cool about it.

Vince though has really stepped up, both as a teammate and as a mentor. I have to keep reminding myself that this man has been playing professional football in Canada since the time I was sucking down formula and breast milk, and had seen it all in his time in the pros. “I'm glad. Because to be honest, my ass is too old to be trying to maneuver against that Calgary defense. Their linebackers are gazelles out there.”

“Then we'll run their asses over,” I reply. “I ran a lot of option in high school, I can lower the shoulder and put someone on their ass.”

“I'd prefer if you did it with your passing instead,” Vince says with a laugh. “Not that you haven't run well this year so far. But remember, those fast linebackers outnumber you three to one.”

“Not worried one bit,” I say, adding a little pep to my throw. “If I need to throw eight TDs, I'll throw eight. If I need to run for three, I'll run for three. I dropped the ball last week, that isn't happening again.”

“I like the way you talk, rook. Let's see how that works out come Saturday.”

Vince's words echo in my mind Saturday as I tug at my white away jersey. The Calgary Sabercats crowd is fierce, booing us loudly for a crowd of only just over thirty thousand. I can still see April in her green Western jersey though, right at the fifty-yard line and two rows up, and I smile. She's a little farther way than normal, this field has a weird setup that I haven't seen since high school. The field is ringed by a standard running track, which due to the curve of the track and the fact that Canadian end zones are twenty yards deep, actually cuts off the tips of each end zone by a few yards. No matter, it's fair for both teams and I don't need the depth to light this shit up.

“Phew, they hate you!” Paul says when I'm announced. “What the hell did you do, come here in college and take a shit in the city hall?”

“Probably just broke too many hearts,” Dave Hawk says. “Those surfer boy looks of his? These Brokeback Cowboys around here probably hate jerking off to his posters every night.”

“Brokeback Cowboys? Holy shit man, that's a new one for me,” I laugh, pulling my helmet on. “Can't you at least let me think it's the Calgary women who love me?”

“Not without April kicking my ass,” Dave replies. “She's come out of her shell, and the turtle was hiding a wildcat.”

I laugh, and slap Dave on the shoulder pads. “Just like I like it. Come on, I need you to cover my ass today, let's get some points on the board.”

We take the kickoff, returning it to the thirty, and I lead the offense onto the field.

I setup in shotgun and send Robbie in motion while DeAndre loops back and turns, sprinting dead set to the line, Dave snapping the ball just before DeAndre crosses and we're off. I look right to Paul, who's my primary target this play, but his d-back is on him tight as hell, so I check down to Bobby in the flat, but before I throw, I shift step to my left and see Robbie clear fifteen yards down field, already looking back for the pass. I plant and throw, putting it right in his hands without him even breaking stride, where he extends his gap on the defense, and he's off to the races.

Robbie “Lightning” Storm may not have the best jukes or cuts in the League, but if he's got a straight line to run, there's very few guys I know who can catch him. Not surprising since he was an alternate for the Junior Olympics in high school.

Regardless of the source of his speed, Robbie goes in untouched, a first play touchdown that puts us up with less than a minute elapsed on the game clock. That's the way it should be, and as I jog over to the sidelines, Coach gives me a little nod. “Glad to see which Tyler showed up today.”

“Still got fifty-nine minutes to go, Coach. Let’s make sure we leave no doubt.”

The defense, battle hardened now but still hamstrung by the pure complexity of what the rules allow Canadian offenses to do and injuries, slows the Calgary offense, but they're still grinding out yards, just getting enough to get first downs, but making their way down the field. It's a long drive time-wise by Canadian standards, twice going to third down conversions, but in the end, the Sabercats tie it up, and we're back on the field.

“Tyler,” Coach pulls me aside while the kick return team gets ready. “The defense needs a rest. Short passes, give them a few minutes, okay?”

“Got it, Coach.”

He isn't lying, other than sending Robbie deep again on a Valley route, everything is short, under ten yards. “Will do.”

The ball snaps, and I check my receivers, but tuck the ball and run, seeing the gap toward the sidelines. It's not much, only five yards, but I step out of bounds without getting smacked and stop the clock. I don't care about game time, I want real time for my guys to rest.

* * *

“
I
guess
you were wearing your lucky underwear,” April jokes when I come out of the locker room after the game. “I've never seen such a performance.”