by London Casey
The guy got back up and charged at me, hitting me in the ribs. I went with him letting him drive me across the bar. We crashed into the barstools, knocking them over. I put the guy on the bar and swung down, hitting his face again. He reached for a beer bottle and smacked me with it.
Hey, guess what? Beer bottles don’t shatter as easily as they show in the fucking movies.
He tried swinging it again and I grabbed his wrist, twisting it.
The bar was in an uproar now, people screaming, some cheering. A few people yelled that they had called the police on me.
I guess they weren’t Dragons fans.
Of course everyone had their fucking smartphones out, taking videos and pictures of the crazy QB throwing down. I slid the guy down the bar to the edge and then had him by the throat.
That’s when I wanted to put him through the window. I wanted to throw him out to the cameras flashing at me. I looked back and saw the old man behind the bar. He had a baseball bat and hurried to come to break up the fight. It took him a year to climb over the bar and that’s when I decided to just drop the asshole.
So I did.
“Get the fuck out!” the old man yelled.
He swung the bat at me and I lunged back.
One of my security guards was there and threw a punch, hitting the old man in the gut. He screamed and dropped to his knees.
“Yo, Nick!” I yelled. “Fuck. He’s old.”
“Come on, Roman,” my other guy, Danny, said.
We hurried out of the bar, met with the paparazzi screaming at me.
My jaw was sore, my hands were bleeding.
Someone got in my face and the flash of the lens almost blinded me.
I grabbed the guy’s camera and slammed it as hard as I could to the ground.
“Hey! Dickhead!”
I then turned and charged at the crowd of paparazzi. I put my arms out and tried to knock away as many cameras as I could. I stomped on them, kicked them, whatever the fuck I could.
Then I spotted one more on the ground, untouched.
The beer and adrenaline got the best of me and I grabbed at the zipper of my jeans. My mind told me not to do it but I didn’t give a shit about anyone. Or anything. I picked up the fucking football as my escape plan from hell. I didn’t want all of this that came with it.
I whipped myself out and started to piss right on the camera. I had no shame in what was between my legs.
The flashing lights up ahead had a different theory on it.
I ignored Nick and Danny as they screamed for me to stop. They knew better than to try and touch me, too. I’d fucking knock them both out.
I held my dick tight as I pissed.
The first cop car stopped and the officer got out, drew his gun, and started screaming at me.
I looked back at Danny and smiled. “You better call my lawyer.”
I was processed just before one in the morning.
I got my own cell, as always. It was too risky to put me in a cell with other guys. Either they’d be fans and help me get out, or they’d hate me for beating their teams and it would create an even bigger fight. Most police stations didn’t want their facilities to turn into a paparazzi thing.
Around two in the morning was when my lawyer - Ted - showed up and got me out. His hair was messy and his tie crooked.
When the officer let me out, I fist bumped his arm. “Thanks, my man. You a Dragons fan?”
He looked around. “Yeah. What the hell are you trying to prove out there? You got all the money in the world. You don’t need this shit, Roman.”
“Preach it,” Ted said. “I say the same thing.”
“You charge me five hundred dollars an hour,” I said.
“Shit,” the officer said. “Where’s my money?”
“I’ll send you tickets to the home opening. You and the entire department.”
The officer laughed. “Most of us around here hate you. Stay out of trouble.”
“That I won’t do,” I said.
Ted grabbed my shirt. He looked at my face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Roman.”
“What?”
“Tell me you didn’t throw the first punch.”
“I didn’t throw the first punch.”
“Now tell me the truth.”
“I threw the first punch.”
Ted growled under his breath. He pointed to an officer and yelled, “I need a room with my client. Make that happen right now.”
I had never seen a lawyer bark orders at police officers like Ted did. He was a good guy. Serious about money which made him serious about keeping me out of jail. I also knew that Ted had a lot of guys on the take as they called it. What he said went because he had the power to make it happen. Then again, I was one smack of the gavel away from spending some serious time in jail.
The female officer opened the door for us.
I paused and stared at her. “Have we fucked before?”
“What?” she asked. “Are you serious?”
“I’m dead serious. Your eyes look familiar. You were on your knees, staring up at me. Right?”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I’m just asking a question.”
She pulled a club off her belt. “And I’m going to ram this club up your ass. I bet that’s something you’ll never forget.”
“Whoa,” I said. “Sticking things up my ass… that’s going to take a lot more than a half decent blow job… Officer.”
“Get him away from me,” she said.
Ted grabbed my shirt again. “Goddammit, Roman.” Ted slammed the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m telling you, Ted, she went down on me.”
“So did half the department,” Ted yelled. “And probably half the fucking city. Not to mention every goddamn cheerleader on the football team. What the fuck does your dick getting sucked have to do with what happened tonight?”
Ted’s face was bright red. The veins in his neck throbbed. He was a short guy, I mean probably regular sized, but compared to me, he was tiny as hell. I towered over him by six inches, easily, and my body was wide enough to block him out. But damn, when he raged, the look in his eyes was straight killer.
I put a hand to Ted’s shoulder. “Actually, Ted, it kind of does connect.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “Sit. Talk.”
I ran through the entire story.
That guy had set up his girl to come sit on me and start a fight. It wasn’t unheard of. Some people thought they could just sue anyone. I was pretty much untouchable though. Which was what I told Ted over and over.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Fuck.”
“What were you doing? Sleeping?”
“No. I was getting a massage.”
“After midnight?”
“That’s the best time to get a massage,” Ted said with an eyebrow raised.
I laughed. “I like you, Ted. You and I should party one of these nights.”
“I prefer to stay away from the law when I’m on my own.”
“So what am I looking at here?” I asked.
“You took your cock out and pissed on a camera,” Ted said. “That alone… why the hell did you have a security team with you if you ended up in a fight?”
“You know the answer to that. I like to fight.”
“You know, whatever the bullshit with your brothers and old man is… figure it out. You’re worth tens of millions and you want to have a bar fight? I have my guys out scrambling to get the cell phone footage. Good news is that it will show the fight in progress, not the start of the fight.”
“Excellent.”
“The paparazzi thing… that’s tricky because they have rights. I can play an angle that they attacked you after you were attacked in a bar. You lost your edge, had too many drinks, and fought back. It’s going to be a long shot to take care of that. It’s going to hit the wallet.”
“It’s big enough to take a few hits.”
�
�The Commissioner will be calling soon. And don’t forget Mackey.”
Mackey. My agent. Shit.
“He’s going to be pissed.”
“We’re all goddamn pissed,” Ted yelled. He stood up. “I’m getting tired of it, Roman. Sometimes I do this for the money. Sometimes I look at you and I… I actually want to help you.”
“How touching.”
“Fuck you.”
“You still take my money though.”
“You’re goddamn right I do,” Ted said. He pointed at me. “You want to save your own ass this time? Huh? Go back to that bar and get the footage the owner has. That’s going to show exactly what happened. If that gets released and it shows you throwing the first punch… I don’t know, Roman. I don’t know how I can defend that.”
“You can defend anything, Ted.”
Ted walked to the door. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe you need a wakeup call. Maybe you need to settle down. Find a goddamn distraction.”
“Send that pretty officer in when you leave,” I said. “I’m telling you… she sucked on-”
“Goodnight,” Ted said.
Ted left the room and the officer did come back but only to give me my stuff. She had her hand on her gun and her eyes warned me not to open my fucking mouth. Her eyes also told me that I was right about her.
My mind shifted gears when I saw I had missed a call.
It was from my brother, Caine.
I hadn’t talked to him in a long time. In fact, the last time me, Caine, and Slade were together, it ended with us getting into a fight, the cops being called, and the cops chasing us out of town.
There was only one reason why one of my brothers would call me.
Only if our father was finally dead.
I walked into my apartment just before four in the morning.
I was officially tired.
“Honey, I’m home!” I yelled.
I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer.
For a second, I froze, and then slowly turned. I couldn’t remember if I had left someone in the apartment or not.
No. The place was empty.
My big bed was empty. That was fine with me, for one night.
I sat on the edge of the bed and called Caine.
He was like me, he didn’t really sleep all that much. And when he did, it was a fucked up schedule. The off season was hard to deal with. There wasn’t much structure or routine. That left my mind to play and my demons to come alive.
Caine answered on the second ring. “Finally.”
“What do you want, brother?”
“What do you think I want?”
“Either he’s dead or you want to break my balls about that fucking throw that landed at the one yard line.”
“I play hockey, not football,” Caine said.
“So he’s dead?”
“Not yet,” Caine said.
“Explain.”
Caine took a second and then said, “Cancer.”
I laughed. “Really?”
“Yeah. Stage four.”
“Christ.”
“Not much time left.”
“Well, I couldn’t think of someone who deserves it more.”
“We have some shit to do here, brother,” Caine said.
“Not now. Call me back when he’s dead.”
Caine sighed. “Okay. And hey, Roman?”
“Yeah?”
“You should have made that throw. You pussy.”
The call went dead.
“Asshole,” I whispered and tossed the phone to the nightstand.
I finished my beer and fell back into the bed.
The old man had cancer and was knocking on hell’s door.
I still believed he deserved a bullet to the head.
I know, I’m an asshole for wanting my father dead. Trust me, when you know the story, you’ll agree.
After all, how could I not hate the man who was responsible for my mother’s death?
(Willow)
I hooked my heels using two fingers, kind of like someone grabbing someone by the nostrils. I stood up from the bed and was thankful I at least had the decency to get back into my dress from the night before.
I looked over my shoulder and couldn’t tell who I had slept with.
Don’t judge me.
I leaned a little over on the bed and saw who it was.
I groaned on the inside and curled my lip.
It was a guy from another law firm. Charlie. No. Chester. No. Chad. Definitely Chester.
Whatever.
He wasn’t half bad when it came to looks. And from what I remembered, not all that bad in bed. So it wasn’t a complete loss.
I took a few steps and saw something on the floor.
A condom wrapper.
That was a relief at least.
I was ‘sort of’ on the pill, and when I say that, it’s only because most days I remembered to take it, some days I didn’t. So I always felt like I was rolling the dice when I met up with a guy, hoping to have enough common sense to make sure he wore protection. I know, it all sounds terrible. I blame myself for everything. But going home to an empty apartment wasn’t always the greatest thing in the world either. Especially after losing a case. I hated feeling empty. I hated feeling completely unconnected from the rest of the world.
So sue me.
I managed to get out of Chester’s bedroom and apartment without making a sound. Then again, there was a good chance he was fake sleeping, waiting for me to bolt. Then he’d probably text all his buddies about me.
I swore men off right then and there as I got into my car to drive away.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
“Well, not all men,” I whispered. “Just lawyers.”
I had enough time to get back to my apartment, shower, and get ready for work. I still shared an apartment with Scarlett, my artist of a best friend. She was a wild, freethinker, and as crazy as her dreams were, she lived okay. An inheritance from her grandfather gave her way more money than she could ever spend, which I helped her to manage and put away so she didn’t spend it like a fool. We both could have easily afforded to live separately but we enjoyed each other’s company.
There was something about her calmness that balanced out my anxiety filled life.
Plus, she was a great friend. We met by accident when she stumbled into a pre-law class by accident. She sat next to me, realized she didn’t belong there, yet she ended up staying that day and for the entire class, writing papers and engaging with the professor and students, showing just how smart she was. I told her a hundred times she could have gone to law school, but she ended up backpacking through Europe for three years, only to return just as I graduated. We were both in debt for different reasons and we got the apartment together.
I fought with a black heel as I hopped out of my room. I had my cell phone in my mouth, my hair dancing around. I managed to get my heel on without falling face first in the middle of the hall.
When I walked to the kitchen, there was a naked guy standing there, pouring coffee.
“Holy shit,” I said.
The guy looked back at me, smiling. He had hair everywhere. And I mean everywhere. It was like a carpet had been glued to his back and his ass. He turned, showing off a hearty belly and even more hair.
“Well, good morning,” he said.
“Am I in the right apartment?” I asked as I started to put an earring in my ear.
“I’m Franklin,” he said.
He had small gold glasses on his face. He had a thick mustache, beard, and long, greasy hair. Shit, he was Scarlett’s dream man. She loved guys like this. The guy probably had no business standing there butt ass naked, but he had the confidence to do it. For that alone I had to give him respect.
“You’re the roommate,” Franklin said. “Nice.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m Willow. Is there any coffee left?”
“Ah, no. I can make some more.”
For some reason, p
icturing him naked, all that hair, scooping coffee grounds…
“No, I’m okay. I’m running late anyway. I’ll grab some on the go.” I backed up and grabbed for my bag. “Hey, it was nice to meet you. Enjoy your day. Uh, just tell Scarlett… you know, I was here. I have a work meeting.”
My eyes struggled not to look up and down his body. What was wrong with me?
“Excellent,” Franklin said. “Well, have a good time.”
I left the apartment and got into my car.
Maybe it was time for me to seriously consider getting my own place.
When I got to work, I went straight to my office. I grabbed my phone. “Leslie? Can you bring me a coffee, please?”
I loved Leslie. She was a nice girl. Constantly changing her career choice, she was always full of stories. It was a wonder how she and I never ran into each other outside of work, but that was probably for the best.
My desk was a mess of folders, papers… work. My computer flooded with emails, some of which I had tried to answer through my phone when I was stuck in traffic. It was a never ending task. Someone always needed to be defended. Or needed to be watched. My job was sometimes to simply be a babysitter. It wasn’t the greatest job in the world, but it paid a ton of freaking money. When a big time executive was getting sued, I was often brought in to check up on him. That meant I would bring dumb papers and questions to whoever it was with the true intention of keeping the person safe, sane, and focused on me to stay out of trouble.
Leslie came into the office and I noticed a black streak in her pretty blonde hair.
She put a coffee on my desk and I pointed to her hair. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Talk to me.”
“Something I wanted to do.”
“Did you forget to put the rest of the black in your hair?”
“Nope. It’s just one streak,” Leslie said.
“There’s no reason?”
“I wanted to.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” I said. I took the lid off and smelled the deliciousness of the steam. “Oh, before I forget, I have two meetings today. One is for the Billing estate. Did you get all those copies made?”
