Rushed(8)

"Speaking of that, what do you recommend?" I ask. "I lived in the athlete's dorms at Western."

She's relaxing, maybe because I'm asking her stuff that she's obviously prepared for as she pulls another packet out of her bag. "It depends on what you are looking for. Downtown, especially around Yonge-St. Clair is nice, and close to the stadium. I'd stay away from directly around the waterfront, just because you'll want some separation from work. But if you really want to be by the water, New Toronto is nice too."

"Well, we'll talk about that later. Here's the Expressway.” I spent most of the drive looking around as we make our way toward the stadium. I see a plane descend, and I realize the island just off the coast has a couple of runways. "Hey . . . what's with the other airport?"

"They only have ferry service, and it's a city airport," April explains. "Pearson's the best option for coming into the city."

I shrug, I come from LA with enough airports to confuse anyone, and we keep going. "The stadium looks kinda small from here."

"So far, but next season it's going to expand to fifty thousand seats, which makes it equal to the old home. The team used to play at the Sky Dome, but the team moved out of there starting this year."

"Why?" I ask. April sounds surprised that I'm asking, but listening to her talk, she knows more than she lets on.

"Uh . . . well, it's just my opinion, but . . ."

“Wait," I say, stopping her. "If you're going to be my personal assistant, I don't need you to sugar coat stuff. Just give it to me straight."

She swallows and nods. "Okay. The stadium's newer, and it has a grass field. A lot of players didn't like the turf at the Sky Dome."

"I don't like turf either," I muse. "Hurts like hell to get tackled on it after a while. All right. Well, where's the hotel?"

I follow April's directions, and find that it's decent, even if it's not quite five-star. Checking in, I see she’s still looking at me strangely, and I turn to her, curious about what's going on. "Anything else?"

“No, I guess not," she says, looking at her phone. "Uhm, I went ahead and scheduled an appointment with the real estate company at nine tomorrow. I know that it's a bit early by your body clock, but, well . . . is that all right? We can meet here at eight thirty?"

I nod. "Yeah, sure. What about this evening?"

April shrugs. "Whatever you need."

I think about it for a moment, then shake my head. I need sleep, and I've got two nights still to get my feet underneath me. "No, I'll be okay. Oh, one thing though. Tomorrow, maybe after the real estate agent, can you take me to get a cellphone?"

April smiles, and again I'm struck by her familiarity. Who does she remind me of? "How about I get you one this afternoon, on my way back to my place?"

"Sure. Nothing too fancy, just a regular phone will do for now.”

"Okay, Tyler. See you tomorrow."

I go up to my room and lay out on the couch. The team rented me a suite, which is kinda nice, even if it does have that hotel room feeling. Fuck it, just for a few days. I pull out my laptop and plug it in, connecting to the room's Wi-Fi. Opening my email, I'm happy to see a message from my friend, Duncan, who sent me some photos of his wedding to Carrie. They also skipped his graduation, using the time to get married and get an early start on their honeymoon before they settle down in Jacksonville with the Wildcats.

I go through the rest of my email and send off a message to Cory Dunham, a second-hand introduction that Duncan had given to me. The man handles Troy Wood and Duncan Hart’s money, so mine should be no problem.

I close my messages and think for a minute, wondering what to do. According to the clock, it's nearing nine, but my body is still on West Coast time, which says that it's just about dinner time. I'm not really hungry yet though, and I've gotten used to skipping a meal when I change time zones, it seems to help my body adjust better.

I grab the remote and flick through the channels, noticing I have HBO on demand — might as well catch up on Game of Thrones. There's some bad, bad women in that show, and I just haven’t had the time to keep up.

Still, as the action heats up and the blood starts flowing, I can't get April out of my mind. Who in the hell does she remind me of, anyway?





Chapter 4





April





I guess I shouldn't be all that upset. I mean, like I told myself just a few hours ago in the airport, it has been a long time. A lot happens in our teenage years, and recalling the names or looks of people you spent a couple of weeks with at summer camp is really stretching it. Other than Tyler, I can't recall how any of the other people in camp really looked, and I'm not even sure about some of the names, really.

Still . . . he was my first kiss, dammit! I mean, maybe I'm not his, but he's still mine! And he didn't even think about how in the hell I was supposed to get anywhere from the hotel, since he kept the keys to his rental car, thank you very much!

At least Toronto has a good mass transit system, but still, a wave of dark depression threatens my mood for the rest of the afternoon as I go back to the Fighters offices, verify the appointment with the real estate company for tomorrow, and get in my own car to go. The ten year old Nissan isn't very good, but it's all I can afford right now, and the price was right — totally free. It was my Mom's car before the early onset Alzheimer's got its hooks into her mind and she lost her license. Dad tried his best, but he's been in hospice for the past six months himself, which in the end means that I have a used car . . . and no parents, really. I'd rather be walking.