by London Casey
“You keep saying that,” I said. “When are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know,” Tyler said. “But listen, I need your help, man.”
“Take the gun away from me and I’ll talk to you.”
Tyler moved the shotgun from me.
You’d think a gun pointed at me would scare me, right? Not even close. That was nothing compared to what the old man used to do to us. You ever hear of Russian Roulette? Yeah, I played that game quite a bit. By force. With my two brothers.
“Put the fucking gun away for good,” I said. “I’m packing if you need.”
“Big rich guy carries a handgun?” Tyler asked.
“Fuck you, man. Don’t push that athlete shit on me right now.”
Tyler hid the shotgun in the backseat of the car and then turned to face me.
Respect was respect. Rules were rules. And nobody put a fucking gun to my stomach. Nobody showed up at my agent’s office and sat on my car with a gun, acting like they owed me.
“Fuck you, Tyler,” I said.
I felt bad as I threw a punch at him, but I had to do it.
I smacked him in the jaw and he toppled right to the ground.
Tyler had been my star wide receiver in college. We were unstoppable together. We were on track for a national championship. There were crazy rumors that we were going to get drafted one and two. I met Mackey and I pushed for him to get me and Tyler on the same team. No matter what. If that ever happened, shit, the league would have never been the same again.
The other reason Tyler and I clicked so well was because of our demons. I loved to drink, fight, and fuck. Tyler loved to gamble. Everything was a bet to him. Even women. I looked at a woman and wanted to fuck her. My deepest animal urges would come alive. For him? He’d have to have a wager on it. He’d go after untouchable women and dig holes for himself. A few weeks before the end of college, he got himself in some deep shit by betting on some games. He got tied up in an undercover sting and was in big time trouble. He lost everything after that. I had to go my way for a little bit, so I could take care of myself and get my payday. Then fucking Tyler went out and got himself into even deeper shit and ended up in a car accident that sent him down a cliff. He should have died. He was paralyzed for about six months but fought to walk again. That’s why he had a limp. He would never play football again. I’d never send him on a cross pattern and watch him catch it ten yards out and then zig-zag his way into the end zone.
But that was his shit, not mine. And, yeah, he blamed me for everything.
I put a hand out and helped him back to his feet.
“Fuck,” he said. “Do you get stronger by the season?”
“That wasn’t even full force,” I said. “What the fuck are you trying to do here? You can’t pull a gun on me.”
“My bad. I gotta go in there.” He nodded to the building. “I have to pay someone.”
“Fucking gambling again, man?”
“Hey, it’s hard to survive in this world.”
I grabbed Tyler by the shirt. “I had a job for you. You blew it. Not me.”
“Stand on the fucking sidelines?” Tyler asked. “You really want to do this now? Go down memory lane?”
I gritted my teeth. “No. I don’t.” I let Tyler go. I reached into my pocket and took out all the cash I had. “Here. There’s five thousand there. If that isn’t enough, then I don’t know what to tell you, Tyler.”
Tyler clutched the money. He nodded. “Yeah. This should work for now, Roman.”
“For good. No more bullshit. I have too much to deal with.”
“Like what? Bar fights? Pissing on cameras? Making an ass out of yourself?”
“Why don’t you fucking hobble along and pay your debts like a bitch?”
Tyler wound up and punched me in the mouth. I definitely had that one coming.
I licked the corner of my lip and tasted blood. “Not bad, Tyler.”
The back door to the building opened. Two men in suits came out, cigarettes between their lips. They froze when they saw me.
“Hey,” one said, the cigarette bouncing. “Are you…”
I reached for my gun and pointed it at them. They quickly put their hands up. “I’m nobody, got that?”
They both nodded.
I looked at Tyler. “Don’t ever show up like that again, Tyler. I can have you dead and buried and nobody would know a thing.”
“Stand in line,” he said.
I got into my car and sped away.
I was fucking livid. Between the arrest bullshit, my old man, my brothers, the league, the lawyers, the Commissioner, Mackey, and now Tyler, I was slipping pretty bad. What I wanted to do was find a bar, a bottle, and a woman.
Instead, I figured why not add everything up completely?
So I started to think about that final pass to Shawn.
One fucking yard.
I grabbed my cell phone and called Mackey.
“Please tell me you’re not in trouble,” he said.
“First off, if I was in trouble I’d call my lawyer,” I said. “Now, listen to me, Mackey. If you want to keep me out of trouble, you’re going to do exactly as I say…”
(Willow)
I was in bed, wide awake, lights off. I drank one beer, talked to Scarlett for way too long about art stuff, and could do nothing but visualize the picture of Roman naked from the waist up in his football picture and the picture Scarlett had shown me. Mentally, I tried to sew the two together to get an idea of what he looked like naked.
Yeah, it was that pathetic of a night for me. But it was better than sleeping with some lawyer from another firm, right? Better than waking up tomorrow and scrambling to find an uncomfortable pair of heels and hurry out of an uncomfortable apartment to make sure I could avoid an uncomfortable conversation.
I eventually sat up and started to really think about it.
If Jay was ballsy enough to put me in this position or fire me, then fuck him. I had rights and would figure something out. I wasn’t at my job. I didn’t do anything wrong. Then again, if his reach went as far as I thought it did… not to mention this Ted guy…
I was really stuck.
And the money was just… a lot.
I grabbed my phone and decided on something right then and there.
I made a call.
Trevor had been asking me out for a year. It was mostly fun and flirty stuff though. We’d meet up for drinks, talk about work, then leave our separate ways. A few times there was a glimmer of a spark but nothing ever came of it. He started dating someone but they broke up a month ago. He asked me out two weeks ago and I never got back to him.
Until now.
“Willow? It’s…”
“I know it’s late,” I said. “I don’t sleep much. Is this is a bad time?”
“You should have asked yourself that before you called me in the middle of the night. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just… working. I, uh, wanted to know if your offer still stood.”
“My offer?”
“A date, Trevor. You and me. Just you and me. An actual date.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Okay. I mean, I asked you weeks ago…”
“I was wrapped up in that Donnelly mess. I lost that one.”
“I heard. That sucks. The guy was a slime ball though.”
“Yeah, he was.”
“Did you take heat for that?”
“No, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Ask me questions like that. You’ll mess up the conversation for the date. We need to have topics.”
“Oh, sure. Topics. Right. For our date.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“I asked you first,” Trevor said.
I rolled my eyes. Do you like me? Check the box… yes or no…
“Yes,” I said. “Okay? Let’s make some plans or whatever. Check your schedule. Get back to
me. Have a good night.”
I hung up before Trevor could say goodbye.
There. That took care of that.
I’d go out with Trevor. He’d be my distraction from Roman. It would work out beautifully.
I felt a little better, but not much.
When my phone rang, I thought it was Trevor calling back.
It wasn’t Trevor.
It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Willow, this is Ted. Put this number in your phone.”
“Okay. Thanks for calling. So late.”
“Yeah, whatever. Hey, you want to get a jump on this thing? Do it now.”
“What?”
“Roman. You’re doing this, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”
“Okay. His agent just called me. Roman is on edge. On the verge of… whatever. He had Mackey, his agent, get the practice facility open.”
“Meaning what?”
“Roman is practicing.”
“Football?”
“Yeah.”
“By himself?”
“Yeah. And I want you to go the practice facility. Introduce yourself. Keep him distracted so that when he leaves, all the bars and stuff are closed so he has no choice but to go home and sleep.”
“Jesus. You realize how late it is?”
“Welcome to my life, Willow. Now go.”
I wanted to fight back, but truthfully, I wasn’t tired. I was looking for my own distraction. I couldn’t stop thinking about Roman anyway.
So why not go experience him for real?
The practice facility for the Dragons was freaking massive. There was a facility with weight rooms, training rooms, offices, everything. Of course, this was all stuff Ted sent me as I drove to the building. Security let me right in; I guess Ted or Mackey or someone called to say I was coming.
There was a big white dome looking thing and that was the field. That’s where Roman was. Inside that dome, doing something by himself. And I was supposed to just walk in there and play all this off. Babysit him. Keep him from going to jail for real.
As I walked to the door, I thought about the damn Donnelly case. Yeah, I had been a little biased in the case. My life had been taken off course because of a drunk driver and I was supposed to stand there and fight for a guy who couldn’t stop doing it? A guy who openly went out, partied, laughed, and made a mockery of it all?
I opened the door to the facility and realized I was basically doing the same thing right now. Roman was a jerk. He got arrested and just laughed in the face of it all. He paid his way out of trouble with expensive lawyers. He kept doing it over and over too.
I walked down a dimly lit hall and there was a door with the word FIELD on it.
I grabbed the handle and pulled.
The dome was massive, which made sense since it contained a football field inside it. There was equipment on the sidelines - everything from giant fans to bags of footballs.
As the door shut behind me, I scanned down along the pretty green look of the field. It was obviously fake but I wanted to touch it. Run my fingers through the field as though it were real and fresh grass on a summer’s day.
Then I heard a grunt.
I looked to my right and saw him.
Right there in the flesh.
Roman.
He was in a sleeveless shirt and put his hands to his hips, out of breath. I looked up and caught sight of a football. It was high in the air, spiraling fast. It made an arch and started to come down. My eyes followed and I watched the ball hit the end of the field. It did so with an echoing smack and then bounced.
I stood still and watched as Roman bent forward, grabbed another ball, and set himself up. He called out some weird names and then yelled Hike!. He dropped back, his feet moving laser fast and with precision. He then threw the ball, grunting again as he released it.
The ball went higher but hooked really quick. It came down a little after the middle of the field. It hit, and took a wild bounce.
Straight at me.
I put my hands out and the football smacked my hand and then hit me in the leg. I jumped back, stumbling because I had put heels on to look more professional, and fell back against the door. It quickly swung open, sending me out of the room and back against a wall.
The door shut with a thud and I stood there, completely embarrassed.
I collected myself and before I could get to the door, it opened.
There stood Roman, looking like he was ten feet tall and a mile wide. His shoulders were beautifully rounded and glistening with sweat. He had more scruff on his face than the pictures online. His hair was messy and sweaty, his grey shirt clinging to his muscular body with wet splotches on them.
He was massive. He was a monster. A beast.
He stared right at me.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Of course… Ted hadn’t talked to him yet…
“I’m Willow. I’m one of your lawyers now.” I forced myself to step forward. I offered my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knight.”
Roman raised an eyebrow. “You’re a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“You’re my lawyer?”
“Yes. Ted asked me to come aboard and help.”
“And you’re here in the middle of the night?”
My hand just dangled out there and I felt stupid. Like someone puckering up for a kiss and left stranded. I then looked at Roman’s lips. They were thin, kissable. Fuck. His lips touching my lips. Which set of lips, Willow?
I cleared my throat. Holy hell. “I’d like to discuss what happened, Mr. Knight. I take my job very seriously and when Ted called and told me you were here, I figured this was a good time to meet. It’s quiet, private, there’s no trouble or paparazzi.”
“This is where I come to escape all that shit,” Roman said. “And you’re here to invade with your legal crap?”
“Legal crap or not, Mr. Knight, you’re in serious trouble. I can help.”
“You want to help?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay. Fine.”
Roman thrust his hand forward and grabbed mine. We shook hands.
His grip was tight, his large hand devouring mine. His hands were rough and goddamn me, but it turned me on. My knees shook a little as he shook my hand.
“First thing you’re going to do is call me Roman,” he said. “Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Roman then held the door open and nodded to me to follow.
We went to the field.
He pointed to the football that had hit me. “Toss me that.”
He started to jog backward, not missing a step, hands out.
I grabbed the ball and bit my tongue as I threw it. It literally went four feet and crashed to the ground.
“You throw like a girl.”
“I am a girl,” I said.
“No, sweetie, you look like all woman to me.”
Roman winked and turned, running down the field.
Yup, just like that, my panties were wet, my thoughts were rampant, and Roman had completely won everything.
I was fucking screwed.
“Is that a garbage can?” I asked.
“Wow,” he said. “You must be a lawyer. That’s some great thinking.”
“You know, maybe people are afraid you, Roman. But I’m not. I’ll be honest. I think football is stupid. I think sports are stupid. I think guys like you are assholes.”
Roman walked toward me, a football in each hand. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“You learn how to throw a ball and then you skate through life never getting into trouble. You get a big contract and then you still do dumb shit for fun. Because you know you’ll get out of it.”
“But without assholes like me you wouldn’t have a job,” Roman said. “I can bet Ted offered you a shit ton of money to come deal with my messes.”
I swallowed hard. I r
efused to acknowledge that.
Roman grinned.
Oh fuck me sideways… he has dimples. Like cute boyish dimples. Like there’s some sweet under all that monster… fuck.
“That’s what I thought,” he said.
He then got closer to me. Way too close. He towered over me. I could smell his sweaty skin and whatever cologne he wore. I preferred the sweaty skin. He looked slippery, delicious, my tongue tingling for one little taste of him.
“And whatever he’s paying you,” Roman whispered, “where do you think he’s getting it from? Me.”
“My financial contract with Ted doesn’t concern you,” I said. “I was brought here…”
“You want to talk about what happened? I punched a guy that deserved it, okay? He sent his girl over to me to wiggle on my lap. You know why? Because he was looking for a story to tell. He wanted to fight me. He wanted to try and get money out of me. Whatever. I took care of it. Yeah, I’m filthy rich, okay? I can afford to pay people to fight my battles, and I do, in the courtroom. But in the real world, I’m the one who takes care of me.”
He was putting me in my place and I couldn’t stop him because he was right.
“What’s with the garbage cans?” I asked.
“Change the subject,” he said. “Because I just beat you in an argument.” He then started to walk away. He called over his shoulder, “Watch.”
What choice did I have?
I was supposed to be there and keep him there. There was no trouble he could get into while in the practice facility. I had no interest in watching Roman throw a football around other than the fact that I got to watch his muscles flex, work, and his skin sweat.
He walked to the other end of the field and dropped one of the balls. He then licked his fingers. The sight set my body on fire again. I really needed to have sober sex and actually finish. I felt pathetic standing there, getting so turned on. I needed to focus. There was money at stake. My career was at stake too. If I did this the way Ted and Jay needed… maybe they’d put me on more special assignments.
Roman leaned forward, his eyes intense. He scanned the field, called out more random stuff, and then hiked the ball to himself. He stepped back, ran to the left, spun, ran to the right, and stepped back even more. He then planted his right foot and threw the ball with another grunt.