Rooster: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (9 page)

“I can’t believe you are here”, he says, arms in the air to draw out my form.

“I live here”, I say. “If anything, I’m the one that should be surprised.”

“You look good.”

“I can’t believe you actually remember me”, I say.

“Are you serious? No-one has ever made me feel like that, before or since. Plus, I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“Oh.”

“There’s not much else to do in jail but think”, he says.

“That’s very flattering, thank you.”

Rory gulps at his pint but doesn’t keep his eyes off me.

“So, have you come back for round two?” he asks.

“You mean you haven’t found anyone else yet?” I ask.

Rory shakes his head. “Real girls are thin on the ground.”

“You might have to get used to that if you’ve signed a contract for a year”, I point out.

“Don’t tell me you’ve moved on without me”, he says.

“It has been a year.”

“You were the one that ran away.”

I shrug. “Holiday romance.”

“Except I’m back now”, he says.

“You don’t look like the type that likes to get serious”, I point out.

“And you don’t look like the type that likes to fuck in back alleyways.”

“Was it that good or are you that desperate?” I ask.

“Like I said, I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I last saw you.”

“Round two?”

“For a start”, he says.

I sip my beer, careful not to take my eyes off him. This is the first proper conversation I’ve ever had with the father of my child - which, by the way, is one of the strangest sentences I think I’ll ever say - and I don’t know where it’s going or where I want it to end up. Did I come here to tell Rory about his son? To get money? Because I’m lonely and the last time we bumped into each other it was good enough to make me come so hard the bricks on the wall behind me began to crumble?

“You said you wanted to talk”, he says.

“We didn’t really get a chance last time.”

“Did you want to last time?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“But you do now?” he asks.

“You do talk as well as fuck, right? I mean, that is part of your repertoire?”

Rory leans back into his chair, a smile as wide as the crescent moon. For a man that plays a sport that actively encourages fighting, he has somehow maintained a perfect row of teeth.

“I knew you were a real girl the moment I saw you”, he says, a bar mat in his hand to demonstrate his point.

“How do you figure that?” I ask.

“You’re not into all this theater and bullshit, you say it like it is.”

My eyes drop to the table for a moment, while I think about the secret I’m hiding from him. I know the action will look humble, but I still feel bad about what I’m not saying and should. The thing is, I do have to play this the right way, or I’m going to risk everything and get nothing. Round two thrown into the mix as well as some child support money? I certainly wouldn’t complain at that.

“I think it’s pretty ballsy to do what you did”, he says.

“What did I do?” I ask.

“Well, what we did in the first place not many girls would do, and now this, you waiting for me after the game. That’s pretty progressive.”

“I believe in equal rights”, I say.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Bigger than Brad in every respect, better than any I’ve ever had before and here he is again, sat across from me in a nothing bar in the center of my city. Sexual tension so thick you’d struggle to break through it with a jack-hammer. If I tell him about his son, maybe he’ll not want to fuck me at all

“I’ve been inside for a year, what’s your excuse?”, he says. “As good as I am, I can’t believe you waited for me to come back here, on the off chance I might have been offered a contract in a completely different sport to my own.”

“You’re not the only one who’s surprised to see you here”, I say.

“You saw the army of fans outside the stadium?”

“I saw a bunch of kids waiting for Kowalski to come out”, I joke.

Rory can’t help but laugh at that, and his laugh makes me smile too.

“Kowalski’s such a dick. He told me that what I was playing wasn’t ice hockey”, Rory says.

“He has a point”, I say.

“We still won.”

“The crowd seemed to like it”, I offer.

“Those fifty-odd kids?” Rory jokes.

“Everyone’s got to start somewhere.”

“So how come you’re into it? Or did you just come to see me play?” he asks.

“I’m an official season ticket holder.”

And I realize exactly what that means as soon as I say it.

“My number one fan”, Rory says, a huge smile across his face.

“Let’s not go that far.”

“So this is going to be a regular thing then?” he asks.

Rory leans back into his seat, massive arms crossed over one another, tattoos snaking across the skin, a wide
cat that got the cream
smile plastered across his face.

“Depends on how well we get on”, I say.

“Maybe you’d prefer a pint with Kowalski, he seems like a really interesting guy.”

“Anyone but Kowalski.”

“I still can’t believe you are here”, he says.

“You are the one who shouldn’t be, remember”, I point out.

“I had no choice.”

“If that was your defense, I’m not surprised they sent you away.”

Rory gives me a look that suggests I may be crossing the line, but also that if I am, he actually quite likes it.

“I’m getting another pint”, he says, by way of avoiding the subject, which gives me a perfect opportunity to look a little bit more closely at his assets, before he returns to the table. I’ve never been an easy lay, but I’ve never met anyone like Rory before either. If I’m a real girl, then Rory is definitely a real man x 10
™
.

“I might have had no choice too, if they offered me a million dollars”, I say.

“Now I know why you’ve come to find me”, he says.

“I’m not that shallow”, I lie.

“And I haven’t been paid yet anyway, so even if you were you’d have to wait.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here to steal your money”, I say.

“Good, because I need it to challenge my ban”, Rory says.

“Hurling means that much to you, huh?”

“As much as ice hockey does to Kowalski”, he says.

“It must be hard not playing it then. I can’t imagine being told I’m not allowed to do something I love.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s like ripping a child away from its mother.”

Suddenly my heart stops, and my skin goes cold.

“What happened?” I ask quickly, keen not to make it look like something has affected me.

“I got banned for violent conduct, he says.

“How come that doesn’t surprise me?”

“It’s part of the game.”

“If it’s part of the game, how come they banned you?” I ask.

“Because it didn’t take part on the field.”

“Oh”, I say.

Rory gulps his drink down. “Yep.”

“I should be worried about my safety.”

“It wasn’t like that”, he says.

“How was it like?” I ask.

A year in prison, built like a fucking tank, tattoos all over his arms and chest and a smile that would stop a jet plane, there is no other word to describe Rory O’Connor but dangerous. I should be worried about my safety, I’ve seen what this man is capable of and I know just how powerful he can be, the thing is, I’m not. I’m intrigued, turned on, excited just to think about the possibilities. Scared? A little bit. Worried about what he’s capable of? Maybe. Worried enough to run away as fast as I can? No.

“I did something I shouldn’t have done”, he says.

Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but not asking is like being given a box with a big red button and trying not to press it.

“What something?” I say.

I’m not sure why but I’m super turned on right now. Even more turned on that I was when he first approached me over a year ago and said those magical, panty-dropping words.

“I hurt someone because they were hurting someone I love”, he says.

“Some people call those people heroes”, I offer.

“Not everyone”, Rory says.

“So what did you do?”

“I made sure he wasn’t able to hurt her again.”

“Ouch.”

It’s clear Rory isn’t comfortable talking about it, and definitely not proud of what he felt like he had to do.

“Yeah, well, I made a choice”, he says.

“And now you’re paying the consequences.”

“Now I get to sit here and talk to you.”

“Who was the girl?” I ask, worried for a moment I might have competition.

Rory notices the look I give him and smiles, comfortable again with the situation. “The most beautiful woman in the world and the person I owe everything to”, he says.

“Now I’m getting jealous.”

Rory laughs. “Don’t be. I’m sure you feel the same way about your own mother.”

“We have our ups and downs”, I say.

“We do now too.”

“Your father must have been a real dick”, I say.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Is that how you know how to fight?”

“Everyone in Ireland knows how to fight”, Rory says.

“Clearly some better than others.”

Rory shifts in his seat, to lean over the table towards me. “I’m telling you because we’re getting to know each other and you have a right to know, and because you’re a season ticket holder, and I hope that means we’ll become friends with each other and talk a lot more about your life and mine”, he begins, “nobody else really knows, not the full details at least, anyway. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of thug going around being violent with people without reason. Some people think that because they see what I’m like on the field, and because I’m big and strong, that’s what I’m like away from it too. My father was a bad man for a long time and it finally got to the point where I felt like enough was enough. My mother still hasn’t forgiven me, of course. How fucked up is that?”

“It’s always different from the inside”, I offer

“When you know somebody?” Rory asks.

“Exactly”, I confirm.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. So there it is, I didn’t have a choice”, Rory says, leaning back into his seat. “Or I had a choice and I made it, and now I’ve got to suffer the consequences.”

“A least you’ve had some time to think about me.”

Rory smiles. “There is that I suppose”, he says.

“My story is far less interesting.”

“You mean that alleyway thing isn’t a regular event?” he asks.

I look at him coyly.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find people as committed”, I say.

“Maybe you’re just looking in all the wrong places.”

“Or those kind of things only happen once every blue moon.”

“Just say the word”, he says.

“It’ll never be as good the second time around, it never is”, I say wistfully, although I don’t really believe it, I just want to see how he reacts to it.

“You can decide that after it happens”, he says.

“That’s a very confident approach”, I say.

“Practice makes perfect after all.”

“Then that means we shouldn’t ever stop.”

“Not until it’s perfect”, he says.

“And how long is that likely to take?” I ask.

“With me and you? Probably not very long at all.”

“Then what will keep us coming back to each other after we’ve made it all the way there?” I say.

“The same thing that brought you here today, the same reason I play hurling and the same reason you do anything you love. It’ll be impossible to resist.”

Now I’m leaning across the table towards him, drinks pushed out of the way so I can give him my challenge without being impeded, chin rested in my hands and full on theatrical. A real girl, making sure.

“And what if I’m unavailable?” I say.

Rory sips at his drink and considers me.

“Are you?” he says.

“I might be.”

I’m being purposely vague just to see what he says. There’s Brad, so technically I’m not lying, but the bigger lie is Oscar, and Brad has never been committed enough anyway for me to consider what we have exclusive. If there is a choice, I know exactly where I’ll place my bet.

“I don’t know if you know this about me”, Rory says, “but I’m very competitive.”

“Are you making a claim?” I ask.

“That depends on what’s at stake.”