Exception to the Rule

- ELLIE -

As the red light at the back of the room flashes to warn of impending live feed, I sit in a guest chair of the SportsCast studio set and let the runner adjust the mic on the navy blazer I wear.

My shoulder-length chestnut hair bounces back into perfect place when he's finished. And with a mouthed ‘thank you’, I then rest my hands neatly in front of me on the gloss black table.

The screens behind me flicker to life, and the show’s logo is emblazoned for the TV viewers.

“Okay, and we’re live in three, two… ”

The director mouths ‘one’ then points to veteran sportscaster, Larry Brennerman, who sits in the anchor chair. Electric-blue pin stripe suit, shocking white hair worn neat, and slick grin looking straight down the lens of Camera 1 to deliver his trademark greeting with his usual enthusiasm.

“Goooood evening sports fans, and welcome to today’s show — 100% football, 100% guaranteed!”

He throws in a wink to our regular ten million or so viewers, then sits back and moves on to introductions.

“I’m joined tonight by one of New York’s favourite sons, and, of course, Hall of Fame quarterback — Randy Allen.”

“Hey, Larry,” Randy replies, his bulky frame, loud suit, and dark hair immaculate — even if worn in a younger man's top-knot style.

Larry nods in response and moves on. “Anddd taking the snap again we have top sports journalist and commentator — Ellie Taylor.”

As usual, I feel nothing but calm when Camera 2 pans to me for a close-up, and I give my trademark easy smile.

“Good to be here, Larry.”

He nods in reply to me, too, and with the introductions over, Larry moves straight into the show.

And most importantly…football.

“So, folks, the new NFL season is just around the corner,” Larry says to camera, then turns to me. “Ellie, what do you think of your Dad’s chances of success with the Mustangs this year?”

Of course — it’s straight in there with the Mustangs.

I resist rolling my eyes at his predictability, given everyone knows my dad is football Hall of Fame hero, Hank Taylor, who’s now an NFL coach for the New York Mustangs.

So while I cover all manner of sports for a living, and football in particular, I’m always being asked about Dad’s team.

And tested for favouritism, I’m sure.

And while they are my team, and they’re a decent team, no one can avoid the fact that they’re lacking...something.

“Well, Larry, I don’t think I’ve been quiet in my views,” I tell him, and shrug casually with a sigh. “Yes, they’ve lost their long-term quarterback, and he’ll be missed. But they should see this as an opportunity to shake things up. After all, they’re a talented team, they just need some exciting new leadership on the field and I think we could see them make the playoffs.”

Larry nods as he agrees with my assessment, then pauses and grins.

“You mean, bring in someone like...Tyler Sizemore?”

Damn it.

Despite my efforts, I know I’m blushing at that, and so do the two big kids next to me. Because Tyler is a poster boy quarterback, or, 'QB' for short. The perfect all-American guy next door who seems to ooze charm with his soft Southern drawl and angelic face.

And with the world knowing he’s looking to trade up to a more successful franchise better suited to his talents, there are more than a few rumours that the Mustangs will take him.

And there are also more than a few rumours that he has a not-so-small crush...on me.

But I don’t date players, ever. And I don’t let my mask of composure slip ever, either.

So, I just smile. “Well, yes, Larry. Tyler is a proven entity and the obvious choice.”

“For the Mustangs, or for…” Larry teases, and my head falls to the side, unimpressed.

“Stay on subject, Larry,” I scold him, albeit with a smirk. Because there’s no room for being precious around here.

“Ha — fair enough!” He chuckles, and it’s done, as he leans forward and glances at his note card. “Okay then, let’s move on to the Chase Allen situation. Another year down, another disappointing season for your son, it must be said, Randy?”

I see the other man shift, now the one with the uncomfortable topic. “Well, yeah, it could have been better. And it’s no secret I’d like my boy to take my jersey at the Bulldogs. I think he’d be a better fit there, and they’re looking, so...”

As Randy’s voice trails off, Larry nods contemplatively. “Mmhm…” Then turns to me. “Ellie, your thoughts on Chase?”

I pause.

Ohhh I have a lot of thoughts on Chase Allen…

Because if Tyler Sizemore is Mr Perfect, Chase Allen is Mr Wild, and after he broke my heart in college, he’s also the main reason I still have my ‘no dating sports guys’ rule. Albeit, no one knows the history between me and Chase, given we'd agreed to keep it secret.

And so, with that in mind, I push aside my personal feelings and stay professional.

“I stand by my previous comments, Larry,” I say with as little emotion as possible, despite the pounding of my heart and the rush of feelings even his name still invokes. “Chase has got obvious natural talent, and he could be one of the greats, but he’s too easily distracted by the pull of off field activities to really make his mark properly.”

I see Randy shuffling his big burly self at that, but I’m not done.

“And he’s not a rookie anymore.” I shake my head. “Far from it. I think he’s kissed his chance goodbye...along with most of the Pussycat Dolls from what I hear.”

I hear Randy groan, loudly. “Oh calm down, chastity pants!” he snaps, scowling, then shrugging. “So he likes to enjoy himself? So what? You should try it sometime.” He settles back in his chair Arrogant and smirking now. “I know I do.”

And I can’t help but bite. “Yeah, but…you’re a bit more Golden Girls than Pussycat Dolls nowadays, right Randy?”

“Hey, screw you, Taylor!”

“Anywayyyy...let's move on, shall we?” Larry interjects, as always having to play peacemaker between us when we appear together, as Randy snarls my surname like it’s an insult in and of itself.

I can’t help but still grin though, as Randy sits across from me, with a face that now looks like one of his precious bulldogs chewing a wasp.

And he’s too easy to wind up.

Because Randy by name and randy by nature, he was always the bad boy of old school football. And it’s well known that he and my Dad were once best friends when they played at the Mustangs together — Randy as QB, and Dad as defensive end — but their brutal fallout is perhaps even better known, and they ended up as bitter rivals with each playing on opposing New York teams.

My dad stayed with the Mustangs, and Randy moved to the Bulldogs, and they both had successes, but—

“Oh…wait a moment,” Larry holds a finger in the air, while his other hand pressed to his earpiece, and Randy and I abandon our stare off to focus on our host as he now chuckles, and shakes his head. “Okayyy, folks, breaking news just in that Tyler Sizemore has now been confirmed as the surprising new QB for…the Bulldogs!”

No one on or off camera, could fail to notice the disappointment on Randy’s face at that news.

Because if Tyler’s going to the Bulldogs, it means Chase isn’t. And while I’d intended to get a rise out of Randy with my quip about Chase having already blown his shot at being a franchise-leading QB…in truth, with Randy’s legendary status and contacts there, the Bulldogs had been his last shot at a second, no, third chance at proving himself.

And as much as he hurt me back in college, when he left me behind to pursue his dream, I still find myself feeling sad about that. Because the other truth of the matter, however much it pains me to admit, is that I know football. I was raised to live, breath, and love football. And Chase was the kind of player that comes once in a lifetime.

Natural instincts, a killer arm, a fearless runner, and a natural leader—when he put his mind to it—and all that combined with the fact he looked like a dark-haired, emerald-eyed, Demi-God on a biblical scale meant he really could have had it all…if only he could focus.

“Well, that’s quite the surprise there,” Larry muses out loud, bringing me back to the room. “Randy, your thoughts—” Larry cuts himself off abruptly then, hand flying back to his earpiece. “Wait, more breaking news folks.”

Randy and I exchange a look.

And, this time, before he relays the information coming through his earpiece, Larry frowns, asking the voice in his ear to repeat — certain he’s misheard.

He hasn’t.

“Wow, okay, strap in to your seats folks,” he announces with a disbelieving chuckle, “because you heard it here first that the Mustangs have also just confirmed their new QB…and it’s Chase Allen.”

“WHAT?!”

“WWWHAT?!”

Randy and I speak in unison. And for the first time, are in complete and utter agreement with my unspoken thoughts...

What the hell is my dad thinking?!

After Randy stormed off set, I managed to compose myself enough to finish the show as a solo guest, like the pro journalist and sports commentator I’ve become.

Before promptly driving like a bat out of hell to my parents’ place in the Hamptons the second the cameras stopped rolling.

I march now past the housekeeper and storm into the living room with a face like thunder.

“You couldn’t have given me a goddamn heads-up, Pa?”

My harsh New York twang and accompanying attitude sing out in stark contrast to the calm, measured tones of my TV voice, and refined, polished camera-friendly smile.

Because growing up with three older brothers and a wild twin sister, I’m used to having to stand my ground when it matters — and especially in this house, with my family.

“Heyyyy, watch that mouth!” My Dad protests, putting down the papers he was reading while he sits occupying much of the large sofa. His mostly bald head shining from the light reflected off the pool outside. “If your Ma hears you talking like that she’ll have you gagging on a bar of soap faster than a hooker with herpes.”

I crinkle my brow, hands to hips, not letting him change the subject that he knows I'm talking about, as I give him a warning. “Pa…”

“Look,” he sighs, taking is glasses off and getting to his feet, “I was sworn to secrecy, and nothing was even agreed until this afternoon.”

“But you make the final decision, Pa,” I say, confused, as I shake my head. “Why’d you not take Tyler? He’s the obvious fit for the team?”

He thinks, for a beat, then shrugs. “My gut said no.”

“Your gut?!” I repeat, incredulous, before shaking my head again. “Pa, I’ve run every number, play, scenario, and no one came out better. Tyler ticks every box.”

“Exactly,” he replies, casually. “He’s predictable. He’s safe. And after ten years with Aaron at the helm and playing the same way, we’ve nothing to show for it. We need to change something.”

I know he’s right. I damn well said the same thing on air earlier. Still…

“But Chase Allen, Pa…really?” I groan, letting my shoulders slump, before I throw my hand up in the air in both disbelief and disdain. “I mean, he’s as much, if not more of a liability than an asset, and he represents everything you hate.”

I punctuate each point as my pace picks up, along with my anger, while my Dad sighs. “Ellie—”

“No, Pa, come on,” I press, “he’s an irresponsible show pony who isn’t a team player, and, let’s be honest, given his lifestyle choices, is probably past his best by now anyway.”

“Ahem.”

The sound of a throat clearing behind me makes me pause, arms still open in mid-rant as my eyes move from my Dad to nowhere in particular. A low, smooth voice follows the pointed cough.

“Please, Elle, save something for the press conference."

I don’t need to turn around to know he’s standing there. Because aside from anything else, no one else calls me Elle.

But, all the same, I turn...and sure enough, there he is.

Chase Allen, in the flesh.

The fine, fine flesh.

He leans casually against the door frame behind, with his ankles crossed over one another and his powerful QB arms crossed over his broad chest. And his sinfully handsome trademark grin only spreads further when our eyes meet.

And while I haven’t seen him since we broke up four years ago and he moved down to Texas, here he is now, standing in my family home with a look that still sends my heart racing — despite him having broken it.

And with that very much in mind, instead of giving Chase any reply, I spin back on my father.

“Seems you’re quieter than a nun caught with a condom today, Pa. Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“I knew he was due to arrive, but I didn’t know he’d been shown in,” he replies, with a light chuckle, then looks past me. “Nice to see you again, Chase.”

“You too, sir.”

His dulcet tones still go right through me in the best, yet currently worst way, as I try to ignore it while my gaze follows my dad walking past me to offer his hand to Chase — who duly takes it, shakes it, then looks back to me.

“And you’re looking good, Elle,” he says, the trademark grin faltering into something softer as he seems to take me in fully now. Like the connection we once had, but that he walked away from, never actually left him. “You’re looking real good — GAH!”

My eyes go as wide as Chase’s at his sudden exclamation, until I realise my dad has clamped his bear claw of a hand around Chase’s — is shaking firmly — and is known as ‘Big Bear Taylor’ for good reason. Because he might look soft and cuddly, but you don’t want to piss him off.

“Now, let’s get something straight, son,” my dad says, deadly serious. “You may have gotten away with a lot of shit in your last role, but you won’t with me. On and off the field, you’re about to work harder than you ever have in your life, and I’m expecting full commitment from you. No distractions. Yes?”

I see a brief flicker of pain flash as Chase gives a tight reply, still trapped by Dad’s paw. “Yes, coach.”

Dad smiles, and nods. "Good."

But before Chase can breathe a sigh of relief, my Dad squeezes even harder and pulls Chase sharply in to snarl in his ear.

“Because if I see you look at my daughter like that again, I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass that you’ll have to be buried with it. Are we clear?”

“We’re…clear, Coach,” Chase replies, through gritted teeth, and I’m already worried about the insurance on that multi-million dollar hand.

Another beat passes before, just as quickly as the grab and growl occurred, so too does my Dad step back, release his grip, and smile as if nothing had happened.

“Excellent. Shall we go through to the office?”

Chase blinks, pauses, then gives a slightly stuttered reply.

“Erm…sure…lead the way.”

With Dad kissing the top of my head affectionately, he then sets off, as Chase spins slowly to face me…and shakes out his crippled hand with an exaggerated face full of pain, mouthing.

“Owwwww!”

Despite myself, I can’t help but smile then. Biting my lip in an effort to stop a laugh as I’m reminded already that he always could make me laugh no matter what was going on.

He’s such a goofball…

NO!

Stop it, Ellie. Asshole. He’s an asshole…

“There are cameras in the bear cave he’s leading me too, right?” Chase asks. “I mean, Jeez, your dad could kill a guy with a misplaced handshake.”

Don’t laugh. Do not laugh.

As I struggle, but hold firm. Just about, anyway. He sighs as he looks at me, and a true, almost shy smile creeps up to fully replace the usual cocksure grin that had only started to falter before.

“It really is good to see you, Elle.”

Damn it’s good to see you too…

I think it. But I don’t say it. I daren’t. So, instead, I only offer a tight smile. Neither of us able to say a word, as we seemingly lose ourselves in our own memories…

“CHASE?! ASS. OFFICE. NOW!”

The roar from the ‘bear cave’ makes me jump and look away, as Chase reluctantly follows suit — clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I...erm, better go see your dad.”

He thumbs behind him, and I nod.

“Mm-hm.”

“I mean, he damn near just broke my hand — I’m scared of what part of me he’ll squeeze next if he catches me looking at you again.”

“Pah-HA!”

My laugh breaks out.

Damn it.

And as I curse internally for it, as he walks backward, that wicked grin right back in place, even as I try to return my expression to flat...

...and then collapse on the sofa with a groan once he’s gone.

Ergh, God he looked good.

But then, he always did.

I know that, because we grew up next door to each other, with our fathers warring over the garden fence.

The two players having bought these Hamptons houses side by side when they were besties — and then both refused to leave after their mysterious big fallout.

So, it's made for some tensions over the years.

And while Chase was a school-skipping, ball- good girl.

Class President, valedictorian, and perfect honour student. Brought up to stay away from the bad boy next door, and I’d always done just that.

That was, until we ended up in college together…and everything changed.