Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Kristen Flowers

  My racing heart seemed to have stopped for a moment. The thundering in my ears went silent and muted everything around me. It was one thing to see Via Mace on screen and notice the similarities on my own. It was entirely different to know others had noticed it as well. Seeing my photo side-by-side with Via Mace’s felt like a slap in the face. The similarities were obvious. In fact, they were so obvious it would be odd for someone not to mention it.

  “How is this possible?” I muttered, thumb hovering over the home button of my phone. I wanted to close out of the message and never look at the side-by-side comparison of our pictures again. But for some reason I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I knew looking at the photo of me and comparing every pixel to the photo of Via Mace was stupid and pointless, but I couldn’t help it. I was transfixed and the nauseous feeling inside my stomach grew stronger and stronger, bubbling slowly up my throat.

  Tossing my phone onto the bed, I turned my head to stare out the window. I needed fresh air. I needed something that would calm me down because a panic attack didn’t seem to be all that far off. I hopped off the bed and took a few big strides until my hands were grasping the window, pulling it open to stick my head out.

  I choked on a quick gasp.

  Instead of finding the relief of fresh air filling my lungs, the very thing I was running away from was in front of my face in the most obnoxious way possible. It was unimaginable. There it was, a huge photo of Via Mace on the side of the bus—the same bus that took hordes of people to the business district of the city.

  A couple of guys on the sidewalk nudged each other and nodded toward the photo. I wasn’t sure if I could hear their dirty snickers or if I was imaging it, but the effect was all the same. There I was staring at a large display of the very character that looked just like me. Her cleavage was spilling out of her miniscule top and an intense yet alluring look in her eyes made the nausea froth and bubble up my throat. I clapped my hand over my mouth and stormed to the bathroom. I made it just in time to be sick in the porcelain bowl in front of me that was otherwise kept immaculately clean.

  I slumped to the floor and sobbed for a brief moment before shaking my head. This couldn’t actually happen. There had to be some sort of explanation and, better yet, a solution. The hope that nobody else would notice vanished the moment I received Ferris’s message. The resemblance was uncanny. There was no getting around that.

  Rinsing my mouth and brushing my teeth, I decided that I needed to get my mind off this atrocity and go about the day as normally as possible. So I walked back into my bedroom and changed the channel to watch another news segment only to be greeted by Via Mace as the headline yet again.

  “Fuck!” I shouted, clutching the remote so tightly my knuckles turned white. It was the only way to resist throwing it at the television screen out of sheer frustration. With a shaking finger, I managed to press down on the red power button. The screen went black and the bedroom grew quiet. For a brief moment I felt shut out from the world and at peace.

  “Enough,” I muttered, spinning on my heel. I was intent on turning on some upbeat music, but the sound of my phone ringing filled the room instead. Taking a deep breath, I picked it up and looked down at the screen. My stomach dropped when my I saw my brother Benjamin’s name. The sick feeling started to swirl in the pit of my stomach again.

  If my brother had seen Via Mace for even a fraction of a second, then he knew and his stress would have kicked in immediately. He had done everything for me and even now as adults, none of that had changed. The idea of Benjamin seeing Via Mace in her skimpy costume and watching her large breasts jiggle and bounce not only made me feel queasy, but also embarrassed.

  “Hello,” I finally answered, trying to sound as normal as possible. If he hadn’t seen anything about Via Mace so far, I didn’t want to let on that anything was wrong. Deep down inside there was a burning desire for my brother to never find out about the video game vixen that was taking the gaming world by storm. But I knew that was next to impossible. Everyone seemed to be talking about it and I wasn’t even out of my apartment yet.

  “I’m swinging by to pick you up this morning.” His tone was stern and I knew it wasn’t a question or a suggestion. There was no room for objection or even the slightest negotiation. My stomach clenched; this had to mean he knew about it by now. Now I had to have a serious conversation with him. I suddenly felt like a child waiting to be scolded for something I wasn’t guilty of but couldn’t prove.

  “Okay,” I replied shakily. “I’m just getting ready now.”

  “Well, speed it along. I’m not far off. We need enough time to drive and have a chat.”

  Those words echoed in my mind—have a chat. A feeling of dread washed over me. My older brother only used that phrase when it was something extremely serious and, more often than not, on an unpleasant topic. And right then, there was no topic more unpleasant than that of Via Mace.

  “Of course,” I responded, sounding winded.

  “I’ll send you a text message when I’m out front,” he said quietly before ending the call.

  I kept the phone pressed to my ear for a few seconds after the line went silent. It felt like my world really was crashing down. My brother would ask questions, but I had absolutely no answers to give him. There was no way for the conversation to lead anywhere if all I could say was, “I don’t know.”

  Unfortunately, that was the truth. I didn’t know anything about Via Mace’s origins or who made her.

  “Shit,” I muttered, tossing my phone back on the bed and darting to my closet to pick out the first outfit I could put together. The last thing that needed to happen was for Benjamin to be kept waiting, especially after he had expressly told me I should hurry up. It was a short twenty minutes later when Benjamin sent me a text message letting me know he was parked out front.

  “I didn’t want you to have to take the bus,” he said as soon as I slid into the car, closing the door and reaching for the seat belt.

  Shit, he definitely knows. There was no other explanation for any of his behavior.

  “Oh, thanks.” I meant it. I was glad I didn’t have to brave getting onto the bus. Especially with the likelihood of a huge and provocative photo of Via Mace (or essentially me) printed on the side of it for the whole world to see. There was a bit of silence as Benjamin merged into the lane. Just by the way he was driving I could tell he was angry.

  “I trust you’ve watched the news this morning?”

  I turned to look at my older brother and it was obvious he was keeping his eyes anywhere but on me; or even in my general direction for that matter. Then it struck me that he hadn’t even glanced at me when I got into his car. Sadness mixed into my already enormous sea of emotions that were all pretty much negative.

  “I have,” I responded. I wanted to get the conversation over with, but I couldn’t gather up the courage to do it. So I waited him out instead.

  There was a bit more silence, but it was broken as soon as he merged onto the expressway, which was already starting to get heavily congested with rush hour traffic.

  “So you know all about ‘Mind Lash’ then? Or, should I say, your little game?”

  “My little game?” I looked at him in shock. Was he really accusing me of being at the helm of this mess? I would have expected questions, sure. I would have even accepted some sort of lecture; the kind of thing he might confuse for a motivational speech. But an accusation of my involvement in all of this, even my knowledge of it, was more than I could handle. “What the hell Ben–”

  “Ali,” he cut in, voice stern as ever. I clamped my mouth shut in spite of myself. “You can’t pretend you don’t see the resemblance. There’s just no way!”

  “I never said that!” I cried out. Every emotion I had from the moment I woke up until now was boiling over. I was quickly reaching a breaking point. A big brother was someone to rely on, not someone else to have to give an explanation to. And Benjamin had always been everything for me so why was he turning o
n me now? “Fucking game,” I muttered. I was done trying to stay at least somewhat rational through all this.

  “Exactly,” he responded. I turned to look at him, cheeks burning and mind confused. “Those are the right words. ‘Fucking game’ couldn’t be more accurate. The thing is, Ali, that fucking game has your likeness all over it. And it’s not even some small enough resemblance one could chalk up to a crazy coincidence. That Via Mace character is pretty much a damn replica of you for crying out loud!”

  “Really? A replica?” By that point I was unsure why I was being snippy with him or why I sounded so skeptical of his statement. I had seen the Via Mace character with my own eyes, both on TV and on the bus ad, so it wasn’t like he was making a stretch. She was a replica of me.

  “Yes, a replica! Don’t act like you don’t see it. Don’t try to pretend like I’m exaggerating here. Ali, she even has that dimple in her right cheek! She has the one dimple on the same side as you and in the same exact spot. That, right there, is not something that can just be shrugged off. If her portrait-like resemblance of you isn’t convincing enough, then the dimple is.”

  I stayed quiet. I was frozen, eyes wide, mind racing. Why could I not remember seeing the dimple? That was something I couldn’t imagine ignoring, not even for all the bountiful shots of the big, bouncing breasts. For the most part, even the body was modeled after me. The only difference was Via Mace’s breasts were larger than mine– not that I had small breasts. I had quite a full chest, one that had gotten me a lot of undesired attention, but Via’s were even larger. I had no doubt that was intentional to capitalize on the character’s sexiness and appeal. The target demographic of the game couldn’t get enough of it.

  “Ali,” Benjamin finally said, pulling me out of my own thoughts and breaking the prolonged silence. “How could this have happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered. I was starting to feel weak.

  “You don’t know,” he muttered. It was a skeptical thought out loud. “This is bad news, Ali. This is really bad news for you.”

  “It is,” I responded, “But how?”

  “How?” Finally, Benjamin turned to look at me. I wasn’t sure what the look in his eyes meant, but whatever it was it made him turn right back to staring at the road. He really didn’t want to look at me. I couldn’t blame him. If I had been exposed to a sexualized character that looked like a splitting image of Benjamin, I wouldn’t want to see him either. It would be awkward, to say the least. I shifted in my seat. This whole ordeal was uncomfortable for the both of us.

  “It’s like that Via Mace character was modeled after you. It truly seems that way and you must know other people are going to see her and notice it. You have to know people you work with will find out about this, including people in positions of power. You should be concerned. Just think of how this conversation would go if you were you talking to one of your superiors.”

  I shifted uncomfortably again. I found myself wishing I had brought some sort of blanket with me. That thought made me feel like a child for the second time that morning. The whole situation was absurd, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

  “This is not good for you at all,” Benjamin went on. “It’s not just how she looks that’s a problem, you know. Think of what she does and consider the entire premise of the game. Via is a corporate spy. She goes out and steals information from major corporations. Think of how that would look to your co-workers and superiors. You work at a major corporation, Ali. You’re even competing for the position as the CEO’s assistant and you’re more than qualified for it. Now stop to think about the game, the character, and how it all weaves in to your real life.”

  “My real life,” I muttered. Was it my ‘real life’ in that moment? It sure didn’t feel like it. It seemed impossible.

  “Ali, really, how is this possible?”

  “Benjamin, really, I don’t know.”

  The rest of the car ride went on in silence, neither of us broke it until I got out of the car in front of the office building where I worked.

  “You’ll have to figure it out,” Benjamin said instead of a goodbye.

  I looked at him, lost and confused, before closing the door and turning to face the building. The building looked even more monumental and intimidating than on the day of my interview to get the job. Taking a deep breath, I started heading toward the lobby doors of the office building without failing to notice I was recognized by at least half a dozen people on the street.

  I tried my best to keep my gaze down so I didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone. Going in to work was enough of a challenge already without having to confront strangers beforehand. What I didn’t expect was to find a group of three IT guys waiting at my desk to take pictures of me and compare them to the infamous Via Mace.

  Instantly, they were all giggling and exchanging glances between one another between overt glances at me. I wanted to shout at them and smack their phones away, but my presence alone had already caused enough of a scene. Fearing they would start to make suggestive comments and make the situation even worse, I shooed them away with a wave of my hands and an angry expression. They smirked but gave in right away, turning on their heels and walking down the hallway. The giggles filled the air as they walked away and compared pictures with one another.

  My feeling of distress amplified the moment my eyes landed on the tall figure in front of me. It was none other than the CEO of the company himself. Of all days for him to be loitering in the hall near my office door, he had to choose today. I had to figure it was no accident. The CEO had probably seen the news just like everybody else and, like Benjamin, decided it was imperative to have ‘a little chat’ with me about it.

  Perhaps he would ask for some sort of explanation. I knew this all didn’t reflect well on me, even if I had absolutely nothing to do with it. It was a huge problem, but I had no meaningful words to offer on the situation. I was just as stunned by the emergence of the character as everyone else who knew me. But how believable was that, really? I’m sure a lot of people thought I had something to do with it.

  In that moment I realized how true my brother’s words were. I had only stepped into the office five minutes ago and I was already feeling the negative effects of Via Mace’s virtual existence—which I now figured might as well have been an actual flesh and blood existence for all the trouble she was causing me.

  Without a word, the CEO stepped into my office. I got the hint, stepping in after him and closing the door right away so we could keep the conversation private. I tried desperately to ignore the look on his face. There was only one word I would use to describe his expression—disgust. I could already feel the lump forming in my throat.

  “Via Mace,” he said, eyes boring into mine. I didn’t know how to respond to that statement so I stayed quiet. There was so much weight behind those three syllables. “We can’t have this commotion in the office, Ali. It doesn’t bode well for us in any way, shape, or form. You need to go home.”

  Chapter 2-Getting to the Bottom of This

  It took less time for my front door to slam shut behind me than for the tears to stream down my reddened cheeks. Everything had come to a head so quickly. I wasn’t even given a chance to defend myself or try to clear my name before being kicked back home. I wanted to find relief in the fact that I didn’t actually lose my job, but being forced to take time off was nothing small. It was the principle of it all that really choked me up.

  It was all so unfair and I felt powerless to do anything about it. I turned on the television and sure enough, the trailer for Mind Lash took up one of the commercial break slots. I clenched my teeth.

  “It won’t stay like this,” I mumbled under my breath, angrily muting the television and reaching for my laptop.

  Impatiently, I waited for my computer to boot up, but as soon as it did I opened up my browser and typed in the name of the game into the search bar. Unsurprisingly, the search turned up millions of hits, the top of which were news articles
from within the past few hours all abuzz with figures, images, and links to the official trailer and gameplay clips.

  “Not helpful,” I muttered in annoyance, tapping my finger lightly on the space bar as I thought of ways to narrow down my search. The person responsible for all this had to be the creator of the game and I figured that should be easy enough to find. After all, someone whose game was met with such immense scandal and success even prior to release was unlikely to remain anonymous.

  After another quick search I came up with the name Hayden Dunn, listed as the game’s creator. He was the lead of an exhaustive team that made his vision come to life, only to invade mine and seemingly ruin it.

  Something about the search threw me into gear. The tears had stopped along with the feeling of hopelessness. I wasn’t going to just sit back and allow this to go on. Even in just the span of one morning I had come to the conclusion that this couldn’t go on. Enough was enough. I had to find out everything there was to know about Hayden Dunn and get to the bottom of this. I was going to put a stop to all of this before it actually did ruin my life.