“You ever been sued?” I asked, and Vince nods.
“Yeah, my second year, had some ambulance chaser come after me when I had a car accident up in Saskatchewan. Total bullshit, but it fucked with me for a game or two. Try not to let this one do the same to you. Hey, how's the domestic life?”
“Domestic, huh? I guess it's an open secret.”
“Five games, and April's been wearing Western U colors every single one of them. Even the dumbest of us can see what's going on there,” Vince says. “It didn't mean you had to punch out Lance a month ago, but I can understand it. He's always been an asshole.”
I laugh, and give Vince a grin. “Nice distraction technique. All right, tell Coach I'm good to go. Maybe I can turn this shit into gold if we've got enough time.”
There's a groan from the crowd and Vince and I look. Our defense, which has been fighting tooth and nail all game, just got smacked, and now we're down two touchdowns. Vince sighs and gives me a look. “Hope you've got enough.”
Chapter 14
April
It's a little strange, sitting in the team offices in my Western jersey after the first loss of the season. It's the first time I've seen Tyler lose, and while his play in the fourth quarter was like I'd come to expect, the debacle that was the first three quarters was too much to overcome, and we ended up losing by ten points, trading touchdowns until BC iced it with a field goal with a minute and some change left. Tyler's last ditch attempts at heroics fell short, and the Fighters lose for the first time all season.
Now I'm in the offices, trying to look like I'm not concerned or that things are normal, while wearing Tyler's jersey — it even still has his name on the back — and typing away at my laptop. Mr. Larroquette asked me to verify the team's hotel accommodations for the trip next week to Calgary, and this is as good a time as ever to fire off those emails.
Tyler comes into the office along with Coach B, and I get more worried. Having a bad game is one thing, but obviously something's up with Tyler. I suspected it last night when I got home from the stadium, and he was distracted during dinner and after. He tried to hide it, but there was something on his mind. I didn't push the issue since I wanted him to have enough rest for today's game, but obviously this is more serious.
“Mr. Larroquette?” Coach says, knocking on the GM's office door. “I've got an issue that might need your attention.”
They go in, and maybe it's an accident, maybe nobody remembered that I'm sitting in a desk on the other side of the room, but Coach leaves the door open, and I get half a view of the room as Mr. Larroquette has them take a seat. “Tough game today, Coach. I was hoping we'd pull it out in the fourth quarter, but we couldn't make those stops.”
“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 fuck 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 . . .