Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Pass To Win Book 1) (24 page)

“We know this is a lot to take in,” he says with no expression whatsoever.

“Yes, it is unexpected. You are saying I only have a few days to read this over,” I gesture towards the papers that are now lying on the coffee table.

“And I have what?” I count out on my fingers from today until Monday. “Five days until the city disposes of their remains?”

Both lawyers look horrified. It is obvious that they want to be absolutely anywhere but here in my living room, delivering what they must believe to be devastating news. I decide to cut them some slack. It’s not their fault that my parents were somewhat lacking in the whole unconditional, we will support you no matter what, part of being a father and a mother.

“I appreciate you taking the time to find me and personally deliver the news. I have a few days. Let me look everything over and I will be in touch.”

I stand up to let them know that their visit is over and I’m done talking to them. They respond accordingly and file towards the door.

I can’t imagine how I would have felt if I found out almost a year from now when I make my annual call to my mother on her birthday. I can hear the ladies buzzing about it in the trailer park. “It took 10 months before that black sheep of a son even realized his parents were dead.”

The lawyers are gone and I am left alone with Foreigner playing on repeat and a sheath of papers I have no idea what to do with.

I am devastated at the sudden realization that I am an orphan. I remember my mother telling me when I was only six how she felt when her mother died. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t spoken to them in months; all at once, I miss them.

I pick up the stack of papers and don’t know where to start. I guess page one is as good a place as any.

I skim the pages and they mean nothing to me. The words start to blur together and I feel like I’m back in high school. It’s not as though my life’s ambition was to be a stripper. I am here in this world of erotic dancing because school was so difficult for me. I was never able to follow what the teacher was saying in class and homework was an absolute joke.

I have tried to avoid reading anything that wasn’t for pleasure, rather than work, since leaving school, and I had planned on keeping it that way. But with the stack of papers in front of me, I realize that no matter your plans, things come as they will and you have to deal with them. And I will deal with them. I just have to figure out how. I can’t read the papers that they left for me and I don’t know who to go to for help.

I may not understand what these papers say but I know enough that I need to figure out what they mean.

C
hapter
11

Ryan

I
don’t know
what to do or who to call. I am even more alone in the world than I already was. The worst part is that it happened nine days ago and I didn’t even know. I can’t bear to imagine my mom trapped in the burning trailer, unable to escape the flames. The only consolation I can give myself is that she was probably passed out and died from smoke inhalation before the fire reached their bedroom.

The thick stack of legal papers is mocking me from the coffee table. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to read something. It’s not that I am stupid or don’t understand things; it’s just that reading has never come easy to me. In school, I was always far better at math and numbers than I was reading.

It was my struggle with school and no one to turn to for help that caused me to drop out before graduating. Some of my teachers offered to tutor me after school; one even wanted to have me tested for a possible learning disability, but at the time I was way more worried about my friends teasing me than I was about making things better. I felt like a lost cause, and as a result, I never managed to sort out
why
I have so much trouble reading.

I pace back and forth across the whole of my living room. The heavy motorcycle boots I had on for dance practice make loud clunks with each step. Despair is coursing through me. My parents are gone and I can’t even read the paperwork I need to fill out to have their bodies laid to rest. I want to punch something or someone, but most of all I want this feeling of futility to go away.

I could go to the law office and ask for help on what the papers say. But there is no way I’m doing this. I have too much pride to walk in to those offices and let those snobby suits find out I can barely read. I would end up arguing with them if they tried to walk me through papers like I’m some kind of helpless child. On top of it, I don’t know if I can trust them. Everyone knows lawyers are greedy and out for themselves.

Just when I’m about ready to lose it, a solution dawns on me. Aria! Aria can help me. She went to college and it was a good school. I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can trust her. That girl doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body and she’s smart. She may be completely clueless as far as street smarts go, but I have plenty enough of that for the both of us should it ever be necessary.

I’ve been to Theresa’s plenty of times, so I decide not to call before heading over. I wrap a rubber band around the stack of papers and throw them into my gym bag. I do a quick change into a nice button down and a pair of dark wash jeans. I need Aria to take me seriously. I don’t want to show up on her doorstep looking like a bum or a player trying to score.

I take the subway instead of a cab or Uber, because for all I know, these papers could be informing me that I have to pay off my parents’ debt and owe thousands of dollars I don’t have. At the very least, I will have to pay to have them buried.

My parents were both as alone in the world as I am. They were only children and all of my grandparents are deceased. Three of them were gone before I was born. My Grandma Trent was a great person and the only adult I trusted as a kid. But she succumbed to lung cancer a few years ago after a lifetime of smoking.

It’s not something I would ever admit to Mickey or the other guys but knowing you are alone in the world does help to put things in perspective.

Meeting Aria, having such an intense physical reaction to her, and then actually enjoying talking to her, has also helped to put me in a different mindset. I have come to realize that there can be more to my interactions with women than one-night stands and multiple orgasms. There might be something behind this whole relationship thing, if it’s with the right person.

I knock on Theresa’s door like I’m a cop showing up with a warrant.
Way to start off on the right foot buddy
, I tell myself.

Theresa flings open the door and scowls at me.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Theresa. How are you on this beautiful morning?”

“I’m as good as I ever am.” She folds her arms across her chest and bars my entrance.

“Hey, I know things have been weird over the last couple of days and I’m probably not your favorite person right now but I need to speak with Aria.”

“She’s not here,” Theresa barks at me.

“Ryan,” Aria calls, coming up behind Theresa. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

Theresa throws me a death stare but she moves to the far end of the apartment.

“Everything is fine,” I say.

This isn’t true and I can see from her expression that Aria knows it. Nothing is fine, least of all me.

“Aria, I’m here because I need to ask you for a favor. Something happened to my parents.” I choke out and I don’t know how to continue.

“Ryan, what happened?” She glances over her alabaster shoulder at Theresa.

Theresa is watching us, and she is wearing a scowl that would put a Catholic nun to shame.

“Why don’t we go to the diner we ate at last night? You can tell me what’s going on.”

I knew Aria was the person to go to for help. I knew it even though I only met her a few days ago. There is something special about her, and it’s more than her long legs and crystal blue eyes. She is the person you call when your world implodes and you are at a loss as to what to do. She is the kind of steadfast person I haven’t had in my life since Grandma Trent died.

After a quiet walk to the diner, we take a booth in the rear of the restaurant and I ask her to look over the papers without telling her why. She gives me a quizzical look, but doesn’t question why I am asking for her help.

She spends about twenty minutes flipping through the pages. Her eyes are red and teary when she looks up at me.

“Your parents. I’m so sorry, Ryan.”

I want to thank her but I’m afraid that if I try to speak, I will choke up. Asking for her to look over the papers is as vulnerable as I’m willing to be in front of her.

“Have you done anything about their remains? Do you want me to go with you?”

“Come with me? That’s not necessary. What does it say about their estate? Is there anything I need to do or can I just let the lawyers take care of the details?”

“That’s a decision you have to make, Ryan. What do you think after reading this?”

How in the world am I supposed to answer? I haven’t read any of it, besides my name and address. One thing I learned in school is that if you pretend you know what you’re talking about, people will stop asking questions.

“I would like to use what is available in the estate to pay for a funeral and I will cover the difference.”

“Really? Just how expensive of a funeral are you planning on having for your parents?”

What in the world is she talking about? The only people that I know who will show up are myself, Theresa, her brother Max, and some of the neighbors.

I realize now that there is more to my parents’ estate than I thought. This would, of course, explain the lawyers and a sheath of papers thicker than my forearm. Could my parents have money I never knew about?

I now know that this is a bigger issue than I probably want to fake my way through. If I don’t tell Aria the truth, those lawyers may bilk me out of money I don’t even know is mine.

“Some of the language the lawyers use, it’s difficult for me to work out exactly where I stand in regards to my parents’ estate.”

“Of course,” Aria says. “If you read this section here,” she points to a paragraph. “What do you want to do about this?”

I try to make out what the words say but they mean nothing to me. I motion to the waitress and request more coffee in order to stall for a few more minutes. It is pointless trying to pretend. I just need to tell her that I can’t read what it says.

“Aria,” I say, the pain and embarrassment wrecking me.

She stops me before I can go on. “It’s okay, Ryan. I can help you understand this and teach you to understand it for yourself. I think, from what I have seen, you have dyslexia. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You can help me?” I ask

“Yes, I would be honored to help you,” she says and takes my hand across the table.

C
hapter
12

Aria

I
t should be awkward working
this closely with Ryan, but I’m the opposite of uncomfortable. He has opened up to me in a way that, before this morning, I would have said he was incapable of. Given the way he treated me that second night, and after what Theresa has said about him, I would have described him as a jerk and a womanizer. Today, instead of his usual devil-may-care ease and “I am a gift to all women” attitude that he usually displays, Ryan is being attentive and gracious. It turns out that Ryan Temptation is human after all.

I wish it were under better circumstances that we are finally connecting. That it took the death of his parents and an undiagnosed learning disability for me to discover this side of him is a shame. I am chagrined that a small part of me is grateful that we have been brought together, no matter what the reason. My grief for his loss and sympathy for his challenges don’t change how bonded I feel to him right now. It is wonderful to be this close to Ryan and to be able to help him as a friend and a teacher.

The waitress brings us tea and coffee respectively, and I suggest we order some food, as this may take some time and effort to sort through. I catch Ryan rolling his eyes, but I need to find out exactly what he wants.

Does he want me to simply put into words that he can understand exactly what the papers say or does he really want me to help him to understand what they mean and what the lawyers want from him.

“What are you hoping for? That is, what are you looking for as far as I am concerned?”

“I came to you because you’re the smartest person I know,” he pauses for a moment. “I also came to you because I trust you. I know we have only known each other for a few days, but it’s different with you than it is with all the other women I have known.”

He holds up his hand to stop my objection before I can voice it. He is correct on this account. We have only been acquainted for a few days but we already seem to know each other like the best of friends, or better yet, the best of lovers.
Stop it Aria,
I tell myself,
he came to you for help, not to fulfill your fantasies.

“I know what you’re going to say and you don’t have to. The other women mean nothing. You’re the first person, man or woman, that I have spoken with about my difficulty reading.”

“I’m honored. It means a lot to me that you feel you can come to me for help and that you trust me.”

Things are getting too serious too quickly. As good as it feels to be emotionally intimate with Ryan, I don’t want to be hurt by him or anyone else, after everything that has happened.

I silently berate myself for seeing more in Ryan coming to me for help than there is. I need to focus on fixing my own life before I can even begin to think of being involved with Ryan as anything other than his confidant and legal adviser. I am probably one of the only people he knows that can help him with the lawyers and definitely one of the only women he knows that he hasn’t had sex with.

“I need you to help me understand what all this means,” he says.

His voice is husky with emotion. This is my cue to back off and stop pushing him.