Rushed(38)

“They improved, which I think is going to help us when we take it back to Vancouver for the return game,” Coach says, just loud enough that I can hear it. “We just had too big a hole to get out of.”

“Speaking of which, what happened today, Tyler? Three quarters, your play wasn’t at the level of the richest rookie contract in Canadian history, then you go out and have a bang up fourth. You were like two different players out there.”

“It's tied in to what we came to see you about,” Coach B says. “Tyler got served with a lawsuit after the interview yesterday.”

“What? Oh hell, Tyler, what did you get yourself into?” Mr. Larroquette asks, and I go pale. A lawsuit? Jesus, no wonder Tyler was distracted. But why didn't he say anything to me?

“A paternity . . . excuse me,” Coach says, realizing now that he left the door to the office open. He comes over and closes the door, not before noticing that I'm sitting at my desk, doing a horrible job of pretending I hadn't heard his last sentence. I sit at my desk, my fingers numb as the word runs around and around in my head. A paternity suit…?

I do somehow manage to get off that email to the hotel in Calgary without stumbling too much, but I re-read the note three times just to make sure I didn't screw it up too much. My mind and ear though are straining toward the GM's office, and so I'm able to hear it when Mr. Larroquette explodes. “TWO? How the f*ck can you get two girls pregnant in one night? My wife and I tried for three years before she got pregnant the first time!”

Two. Holy shit. It must have been those girls at the club, so soon after Tyler moved to Toronto. It explains why he'd be served the way he was too, as lawyers from the States would have normally approached the team first, while something produced in a local court might have skipped that step. Two girls, one night, two babies . . .

The conversation goes on for another few minutes, and when the door opens again, he's at least somewhat in control of his temper. “All right, well, keep me up to date on this. Tyler, I understand about today, but Vince's advice was dead on. Don’t let this affect your game play.”

Coach and Tyler leave, and he sees me for the first time since coming in. His face goes slack and pale, and he can see the truth in my eyes, I overheard enough to know the deal. Coach notices too, and gives the two of us a look. “Okay . . . well Tyler, I'll see you Monday for the video session.”

He leaves, and Mr. Larroquette closes his door, giving us at least a little bit of privacy. Tyler's face is going red with shame, and I can't help but feel pissed off. “So were you going to tell me?”

“I . . . I had to get my head wrapped around it all first,” he says, dropping into one of the other chairs in the office. “The * just dropped it on me out of the blue. How the hell did he even know where I'd be?”

“Probably because the show's been advertising that you were going to be on for three days prior to your interview,” I say, my anger rising. “Tyler . . . two girls?”

Tyler looks at me, his eyes pained, and nods. “That's what they're claiming. The two girls from . . .”

“I know where from!” I nearly spit, then take a deep breath. Okay, I admit it, it hurts that on the night that I get burned at the club, Tyler not only apparently f*cked the hell out of these two girls, but was so stupid as to get them both pregnant. “Don't think I haven't figured that out about four minutes ago.”

“I . . . I'm sorry,” Tyler says, shaking his head. “I didn't mean to hide it from you, but I didn't know how to tell you.”

“Tyler . . . I need to think about this a bit,” I finally say. “Let’s talk later”

Tyler nods. “How much longer do you have to be here?”

“Just a few minutes. But . . . I think I'll walk home. I need the time to think some, and to calm down. I shouldn't be too angry, but I am. I need to not be angry if we're going to have the conversation we need to have about this.”

Tyler nods again and gets up, pausing at the door of the outer office, to give me one last look.

He leaves, and I sit at my desk, looking down at the green jersey I'm wearing, trying to figure out what is going on inside my head, and more importantly, inside my heart. I knew I was dating a star when I got started in with Tyler, and I hate to be stereotypical, but why is this news so surprising to me?

Mr. Larroquette's door opens, and he calls my name. “April? May I see you in my office?”

“Yes sir,” I reply, closing my laptop and going over. I take a seat and try to put on my best professional face. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

“No, I just wanted to check how you're doing. I know you may deserve to know, but you overhearing that was a big mistake on my part.”

“Sir, I assure you, nothing that you three said will get out to the rest of the team from me,” I quickly answer, putting my feelings aside.

“April, if I had doubts about your professionalism, I'd have fired you as soon as it became apparent that you and Tyler are dating,” he says, laying it out in public for the first time. “You’ve conducted yourself well around the office, and wearing his jersey during games . . . well, I'll tell you my wife's opinion, she thinks it's cute. I'm a bit too much of a fogey to think a jersey is cute, but I can understand. If I were in Tyler's place I'd be moved by the gesture. As for Tyler himself, well, most of the time he's been a pro.”