Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (18 page)

There were no
birds chirping outside my window on such a fine morning. I lived close to the
city, just right on the outskirts really, so the sweet melodic sounds of birds
chirping away on my windowsill were a rare occurrence. Instead, every morning I
was greeted with the unpleasant sounds of rushed chatter outside my window of
commuters who were eager to catch the main bus line to the business district.

I had grown quite
used to it, so the cute morning songs of small birds weren’t exactly missed.
There were other redeeming qualities to living in the Dogpatch, a trendy
neighborhood tucked up against the famous San Francisco Bay.

I stretched and
slowly cracked my eyes open to get used to the light filtering through my
somewhat sheer, spring curtains. They gave me enough privacy without blocking
out the soft glow of natural light, something I very much enjoyed. Sitting up,
I reached out for the remote control to turn on the TV and tune into the
morning news just like I did every day. It was part of my morning routine, but
this morning was going to be very different.

“A new video game
is set to sweep the market in sales,” the lead news anchor reported with a
sheet of paper clutched in her hand. “The numbers reported for potential
pre-orders are staggering for a debut game in an era of illegal downloads and
digital pirating. Many think it’s thanks to the so-called sexy vixen of the
game, the heroine and protagonist, Miss Via Mace.”

That was the
moment my jaw dropped.

As the news anchor
continued spouting off facts and information, a now muffled sound to me, clips
of Via Mace played out on the screen. My mouth was locked open in shocked
horror.

The character
looked
just
like me, Ali
McClane
. And When I say just, I mean a
splitting-freaking-image of me!

I couldn’t believe
what I was seeing. I was in a near panic after I saw just how the video game
character was portrayed. She was vulgar, crass, and highly sexual; despite the
fact that she was supposed to be a powerful woman who kicked ass.

“That was the
release trailer you just watched for the new and rather controversial game,
Mind Lash, which is set for release next month. As you can see, it is about Via
Mace, a spy who steals information from corporations for profit. The player is
assigned…”

My racing thoughts
drowned out the woman’s voice. It was like a constant, droning sound in the
background of my heartbeat. How was it possible the animation had such a
striking likeness to me? I was a real person who had no connections in that
industry? I wracked my brain trying to think of anybody I might know who would
have anything to do with it, but I drew a blank.
 

I only focused
back on what the news anchor was saying when I heard the word controversy. “…
Controversy from many areas, such as the business world and the gaming
community and even parents, due to the hyper
sexualization
of the lead female character Via Mace.”
 

Of course it had to be something like that
, I thought
helplessly. My heart dropped a little further.

The screen cut to
some stills of Via Mace before showing so-called ‘exclusive clips’ from actual
gameplay, which were worse than the trailer for the game. It didn’t take much
to figure out why there was such a fuss over the game. At the conclusion of the
news segment on Mind Lash, a clip played from an exciting scene that ended in a
close up of Via Mace’s plump round ass. The camera then moved slowly up the
curve of her hip only to focus on her large, bouncing breasts.

The news cut to a
commercial break, leaving me wide-eyed on my bed as I continued to stare at the
television screen. I was finally pulled out of my panicked daydream when I
heard my cell phone chirp with a new text message. I clenched my eyes shut and
took a deep breath before reaching out to grab my phone off the nightstand. I expected
to see a familiar name on the screen and had already braced myself for a
message about Via Mace. For some reason, however, it came as a slight surprise
to see Ferris David’s name rather than someone else’s.

Ferris David was
an old college friend of mine. I had been quite close to him back in the day.
The two of us met close to the end of my freshman year. We had spent the better
part of our college lives together. We would hang out often, study together,
and talk or text nearly every day.

Many people ended
up wondering if we were in a relationship, but we were just great friends–
except for that brief window of time during sophomore year when we almost ended
up dating. Whenever I looked back on that time it seemed like an entirely
different life.

 
We would stay up nearly all night and write
songs for him and his band to play. Ferris had been one of my closest friends
and I couldn’t even start to think about how different things would have been
had we ended up dating. His life especially was different now. Now he was the
lead guitarist in the widely popular band Close Callers. But to me, he was just
Ferris.

Over the years
after college the two of us grew apart naturally. That seems to be the way it
goes once you graduate and start building a life. We had, however, managed to
keep in touch, even if communication didn’t happen often. That’s why him
texting me didn’t even cross my mind. But there his name was, staring back at
me on the screen.

Before having a
chance to open his original message my phone chirped twice and a little number
‘3’ showed up beside his name. I opened it, holding my breath, only to be
greeted with a photo of Via Mace, one of me, and a message that read,
“Via looks just like you!”

My racing heart
seemed to have stopped for a moment. The thundering in my ears went silent and
muted everything around me. It was one thing to see Via Mace on screen and
notice the similarities on my own. It was entirely different to know others had
noticed it as well. Seeing my photo side-by-side with Via Mace’s felt like a
slap in the face. The similarities were obvious. In fact, they were so obvious
it would be odd for someone
not
to
mention it.

“How is this
possible?” I muttered, thumb hovering over the home button of my phone. I
wanted to close out of the message and never look at the side-by-side
comparison of our pictures again. But for some reason I couldn’t tear my eyes
away. I knew looking at the photo of me and comparing every pixel to the photo
of Via Mace was stupid and pointless, but I couldn’t help it. I was transfixed
and the nauseous feeling inside my stomach grew stronger and stronger, bubbling
slowly up my throat.

Tossing my phone
onto the bed, I turned my head to stare out the window. I needed fresh air. I
needed something that would calm me down because a panic attack didn’t seem to
be all that far off. I hopped off the bed and took a few big strides until my
hands were grasping the window, pulling it open to stick my head out.

I choked on a
quick gasp.

Instead of finding
the relief of fresh air filling my lungs, the very thing I was running away
from was in front of my face in the most obnoxious way possible. It was
unimaginable. There it was, a huge photo of Via Mace on the side of the bus—the
same bus that took hordes of people to the business district of the city.

A couple of guys
on the sidewalk nudged each other and nodded toward the photo. I wasn’t sure if
I could hear their dirty snickers or if I was imaging it, but the effect was
all the same. There I was staring at a large display of the very character that
looked just like me. Her cleavage was spilling out of her miniscule top and an
intense yet alluring look in her eyes made the nausea froth and bubble up my
throat. I clapped my hand over my mouth and stormed to the bathroom. I made it
just in time to be sick in the porcelain bowl in front of me that was otherwise
kept immaculately clean.

I slumped to the
floor and sobbed for a brief moment before shaking my head. This couldn’t
actually happen. There had to be some sort of explanation and, better yet, a
solution. The hope that nobody else would notice vanished the moment I received
Ferris’s message. The resemblance was uncanny. There was no getting around
that.

Rinsing my mouth
and brushing my teeth, I decided that I needed to get my mind off this atrocity
and go about the day as normally as possible. So I walked back into my bedroom
and changed the channel to watch another news segment only to be greeted by Via
Mace as the headline yet again.

 
“Fuck!” I shouted, clutching the remote so
tightly my knuckles turned white. It was the only way to resist throwing it at
the television screen out of sheer frustration. With a shaking finger, I
managed to press down on the red power button. The screen went black and the bedroom
grew quiet. For a brief moment I felt shut out from the world and at peace.

“Enough,” I
muttered, spinning on my heel. I was intent on turning on some upbeat music,
but the sound of my phone ringing filled the room instead. Taking a deep
breath, I picked it up and looked down at the screen. My stomach dropped when
my I saw my brother Benjamin’s name. The sick feeling started to swirl in the
pit of my stomach again.

 
If my brother had seen Via Mace for even a
fraction of a second, then he knew and his stress would have kicked in
immediately. He had done everything for me and even now as adults, none of that
had changed. The idea of Benjamin seeing Via Mace in her skimpy costume and
watching her large breasts jiggle and bounce not only made me feel queasy, but
also embarrassed.

“Hello,” I finally
answered, trying to sound as normal as possible. If he hadn’t seen anything
about Via Mace so far, I didn’t want to let on that anything was wrong. Deep
down inside there was a burning desire for my brother to never find out about
the video game vixen that was taking the gaming world by storm. But I knew that
was next
to
impossible. Everyone seemed to be talking
about it and I wasn’t even out of my apartment yet.

“I’m swinging by
to pick you up this morning.” His tone was stern and I knew it wasn’t a
question or a suggestion. There was no room for objection or even the slightest
negotiation. My stomach clenched; this had to mean he knew about it by now. Now
I had to have a serious conversation with him. I suddenly felt like a child
waiting to be scolded for something I wasn’t guilty of but couldn’t prove.

“Okay,” I replied
shakily. “I’m just getting ready now.”

“Well, speed it
along. I’m not far off. We need enough time to drive and have a chat.”

Those words echoed
in my mind
—have a chat.
A feeling of
dread washed over me. My older brother only used that phrase when it was
something extremely serious and, more often than not, on an unpleasant topic.
And right then, there was no topic more unpleasant than that of Via Mace.

 
“Of course,” I responded, sounding winded.

“I’ll send you a
text message when I’m out front,” he said quietly before ending the call.

I kept the phone
pressed to my ear for a few seconds after the line went silent. It felt like my
world really was crashing down. My brother would ask questions, but I had
absolutely no answers to give him. There was no way for the conversation to
lead anywhere if all I could say was, “I don’t know.”

Unfortunately,
that was the truth. I
didn’t
know anything
about Via Mace’s origins or who made her.

“Shit,” I
muttered, tossing my phone back on the bed and darting to my closet to pick out
the first outfit I could put together. The last thing that needed to happen was
for Benjamin to be kept waiting, especially after he had expressly told me I
should hurry up. It was a short twenty minutes later when Benjamin sent me a
text message letting me know he was parked out front.

“I didn’t want you
to have to take the bus,” he said as soon as I slid into the car, closing the
door and reaching for the seat belt.

Shit, he
definitely knows. There was no other explanation for any of his behavior.

“Oh, thanks.” I
meant it. I was glad I didn’t have to brave getting onto the bus. Especially
with the likelihood of a huge and provocative photo of Via Mace (or essentially
me) printed on the side of it for the whole world to see. There was a bit of
silence as Benjamin merged into the lane. Just by the way he was driving I
could tell he was angry.