Page 4 of Personal Foul (The San Diego Storm #3)

Colin

F uck me dead. I was going to America.

After making the initial call to Craig Henderson, he’d scheduled another one that included the owner of the team, Mr. William Carlisle. Both were nice gents, but before we moved forward, I needed to make sure they knew all there was to know about me.

It was embarrassing to explain, and if it blew up the deal, better it be here than there.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t openly hate people or try to hurt anyone. It’s just when I’m engrossed in the game sometimes I get carried away. The adrenaline gets to pumpin’ and that gets me going. I won’t blame it on anyone else.”

I wanted to defend myself and tell them the coach asked for that, but I wouldn’t give them the impression I wasn’t a team player.

The coach nodded as if he understood. “I get that, Colin. Where rugby plays continue until a whistle, ours end when the player or the ball hits the ground. We also wear specialized equipment to minimize injury. That could work to your advantage.”

I bit my bottom lip and frowned. “Running with a head topper seems strange.”

Coach laughed. “Our helmets are state-of-the-art and technologically advanced to detect head injuries. The sensors inside help our staff monitor our players. They can still happen, but helmet-to-helmet contact can get you ejected from the game along with a hefty fine. Hopefully, that won’t be an issue.

If you use your rugby tackling skills, you won’t have a problem. ”

I had a fucking lot to learn, and I would need to study, sooner rather than later.

“That’s good to know. But all that’s gonna take some time to get used to.”

His relaxed manner made me feel more at ease with everything.

“It will, but we know you can do it, Colin. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have pursued this with you.

Our coaches and your teammates are ready to help.

You basically have one job as a safety, and that’s defending the secondary.

No ball handling or kicking is involved.

Unless you intercept the ball, and I’ll be delighted every time. ”

I smirked, thinking about how simple it was to run blokes down. “That sounds easy enough.”

Both men appeared as if they believed in me. They knew my history, and they still wanted me on their team. That was going to take me a bit to get used to.

“Are you interested in giving the NFL a try?” Mr. Carlisle asked.

I smiled, more excited than I had been in months. “Yes, sir. I’m ready.”

Coach Henderson’s smile stretched across his face. I still couldn’t fathom how happy they were to have me play. It had been a long time since anyone was excited to see me.

“If you’d like to talk it over with your agent,” Mr. Carlisle said, “we can email the proposed contract to you. If all goes well this season, we may be able to extend another offer for next season.”

My gut tightened, thinking about Leland. Did I want him involved in this? He was ready to ship me off to South America, for fuck’s sake. He never entertained the idea that I could play American football.

Smiling into the camera, I shook my head. “I’d prefer to do this on my own. What do I have to lose?”

Coach smiled but deferred to Mr. Carlisle.

“I suggest you get an attorney to look over the paperwork before you sign, especially since we’re dealing with the US Government and your visa requirements.

If you want an American agent when you get here, we can recommend one.

We won’t finalize everything until after training camp to give you time. ”

He was right. It was best to protect my interests.

“Thank you. Both of you. I’m excited about the opportunity.”

“We’re delighted to have you, Colin,” Coach said. “Marilyn, my assistant, will fill up your inbox and make your appointment at the US Embassy. Reach out if you have questions.”

Nodding, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. “I will. And thank you again.”

After ending the call, I grabbed a bottle of stout and went to sit on my balcony. Even though it was two a.m., I was wide awake.

Sipping my beer, I wanted to call Owen and tell him the good news, but waking him wasn’t a good idea. It could wait until morning.

As I watched the ships in the harbor below, I made the decision not to tell Leland where I was going. Part of me wanted to rub it in his face with a big fuck you, while another part wanted to hear him say he was proud of me.

It was time to move on, and I intended to do this and stand on my own two feet.

The one-year contract for ten million dollars was none of his concern.

He had not acted as my agent, had not negotiated any of the terms, and was not entitled to a cent.

And as soon as I could, I would sever all ties with him.

I was starting a new life without my old baggage.

Over the next four weeks, with Marilyn’s help, I secured my visa, made travel arrangements for me and Allister, and packed up my high-rise apartment for six months.

I’d miss my home and the tranquil view of the harbor with the bright blue water, but there was something more for me in the States. I could feel it.

With everything boxed and ready to ship when I needed it, Owen picked us up and headed for the airport.

“Do you have your passport, visa, cellphone?”

I grinned over at my friend. “Yeah, Dad. I’ve got it all.”

Owen snickered, but I could tell something was weighing on him. I waited him out as long as I could before just asking.

“What’s on your mind, mate?”

He shrugged but kept his eyes on the road. “Nothing. Just hoping you won’t forget us back here.”

By us, he meant him. He was the best friend I’d ever had. “I could never, O. Besides, I’ll be back when the season’s over in February. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

He huffed out a breath. “Yeah, you're right. I’ll try to watch you play on satellite TV.”

I grinned. “You better. I’m gonna be a big star.”

“You’re so humble,” he groused.

When he pulled up to the drop-off at departures, he helped me with my bags while I took Allister in his carrier. When he sat them down, he looked down at the concrete before meeting my eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Colin. Keep in touch, eh?”

I swallowed hard. My eyes became misty as I yanked him in for a big hug. “Yeah. I’m gonna miss you.”

He nodded but said nothing. Patting me on the back, he stepped back and smiled. I could see the same thing I was feeling mirrored on his face.

“Remember to wrap it up,” he said.

I grinned and saluted him. “Yes, sir. Always do.”

Waving as he rounded the car, a sudden wave of sadness engulfed me when he got in. Standing on the curb, I watched as he drove away.

“Are you checking in, sir?”

I smiled at the airline employee waiting to help me with my bags. “Yes, thank you.”

He rolled my suitcases toward the terminal to check them in. With the tags printed, he looped them over the handles and presented two more for the cat carrier and travel litter box.

With everything secured, I looked down at Allister, who was not very happy.

“I know, buddy. But it’s going to be great. We’re going to America, and there’s something good waiting for us there. I just know it.”

When we arrived at our gate, I set everything on the floor and checked us in. As we waited to board, I pulled out my copy of American Football for Dummies and picked up where I’d left off.

Thanks to the generosity of my new employer, we were flying first class as we crossed the Pacific.

The spacious private suite had plenty of room for both of us and featured an automatic reclining seat that converted into a bed.

The personal amenities kit and noise-canceling headphones were top-tier.

Toss in unlimited dining and snacks, and I was living in the lap of luxury.

If this was how all footballers traveled, then I was sure I’d made the right decision.

I’d never been to the States and could admit I was stoked for the experience. San Diego, California, was reportedly one of the most beautiful places in America, and I was ready for a new beginning.

Thirty minutes before the first flight landed in Los Angeles, I took advantage of the business-class amenities and changed into the designer suit I’d purchased. I wanted to look good just in case I would be meeting the coach and Mr. Carlisle today.

After landing at LAX, I had an hour between flights to clear customs and get us to the new terminal. As luck would have it, being seated in first class meant a shorter line. With only Allister and his litter box to declare, I made it through quickly.

Unfortunately, my international gate was located as far as humanly possible from the regional terminal for my connecting flight. Boarding would begin in thirty minutes, and it was on time. If the shuttle was on schedule, we should make it.

After locating the correct bus, Allister and I piled on and luckily found a seat. He’d had enough of all this commotion and began meowing at the top of his lungs.

“It’s okay, baby boy. We’ll be there soon enough, and I’ll get you out.”

He didn’t care what I had to say and kept up the caterwauling. I was ready to crawl under the seat, but as soon as the shuttle began to move, he settled down.

Ten minutes before boarding, I scanned the area, hoping to find a bathroom. As I headed there for a quick piss, some wanker running to catch his flight barreled into me, dousing me with his giant iced coffee, ruining my fucking suit.

His eyes went wide as my six-foot-four menacing stare glared down at him.

“Oh god. Sorry dude,” he’d said as he scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t a day over twenty and appeared perplexed about what to do. Frantically, he eyed the terminal where he was going, then back at me.

“I’m gonna…” he stammered. “I’m so sorry.”

I took a deep breath and tried to calm the rage burning in me. “Go on, mate. You’re obviously in a hurry.”

The kid nodded and took off down the terminal. I was covered in cold, dark coffee and what smelled like chocolate. Sticky white clumps of whipped cream and chocolate shavings clung to my shirt.

“Fucking hell.”

“Are you alright, sir?”

I looked at the airport employee; her expression told me it was worse than I thought.

I plucked at my shirt as the cold beverage chilled my skin.

“Yes, physically I’m fine,” I grunted. “But I can’t fly like this.”

I needed out of the wet garbs, but had nothing to change into.

Running a hand through my hair, I forgot it too, was covered in sticky goo. Now I had it everywhere. The viscous mess had also crept its way south and coated my bits. I’d have to peel my undies off at some point.

“There’s a gift shop over there if you’d like to get something else to wear. I bet you could find something that would work.” She pointed to the duty-free store that sold everything from pain relievers to potato crisps.

“Yeah,” I sighed, giving up. “I’ll give it a go.”

“You, uh,” she said warily, “need to hurry, sir. We’ll be boarding soon.”

I grunted and walked quickly to the little store, ending up with a Rams T-shirt and god-awful athletic shorts. Not the good kind.

As the intercom announced boarding for first-class passengers, I hurried off to the bathroom and changed into my newly acquired outfit.

Stripping out of the wet clothes and undies, there was no time to tidy myself up from the amoeba-like sticky mess that found its way to places I didn’t want to think about.

I was going to have to free-ball it to San Diego.

Stuffing my suit haphazardly into the bag, I grabbed Allister and rushed out of the stall to board my flight. My new clothes were already stuck to my skin and made walking uncomfortable.

And as if the situation couldn’t get worse, one glance in the mirror reminded me I was a mess in cheap mismatched athletic wear and expensive dress loafers.

Fuck my life. I hoped this wasn’t an omen of what I’d gotten myself into.

With my bag and cat in hand, I marched up to the check-in desk, chin held high, and presented my boarding pass. The lady smiled as she tried to ignore my current state. “Have a good flight.”

Gritting my teeth, I nodded and made my way to my seat. Before sitting down, I shoved my ruined clothing into the overhead bin and placed my cat in his spot. When the flight attendant approached, I beat her to the punch.

“Whisky. Double, please.”

Her smile said she had already been informed of my mishap. “Yes, sir.”

By the time we landed in San Diego, I was marginally relaxed. The plane pulled up to the gate, and the deplaning started. My fellow passengers gave me a wide berth as I collected Allister, my coffee-scented clothes, and made my way to the door.

After exiting the jetway, I followed the signs to baggage claim, ready for this day to be over.