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Chapter 6: Legal Hell
 By Jim Caple |
Previously at 24 College Avenue: Jenn Robbins has been Bubby the Red Devils mascot for the past several years. She recently hit Golden State quarterback Simeon Hearst while driving her Bubby-Mobile cart during a routine at a game. . . .
The problem with being a barista near a college campus is that college students are too poor to leave decent tips. Jenn could work an entire five-hour shift at the Java Monkey and bring home a pocketful of change from the tip jar that amounted to little more than $12. Then again, she had a lot more spare time to work at the popular coffee shop after the State College athletic department suspended her as the school mascot.
“I’ll have a large espresso, extra moo,’’ a student ordered.
“Do you mean Das Grosse?’’ Jenn asked as she reached for a cup. The Java Monkey owner was Dresden Bremen, an immigrant from Salzburg who insisted that the baristas refer to their large drinks as die Kleine (small) and Das Grosse (large). He thought the use of German added a certain European touch and justify the $3.65 cost but it was a pain in the ass for the baristas who were constantly forced to correct the customers.
“I said, do you want Das Grosse?’’ Jenn asked again.
The customer hadn’t heard her because she was listening to music on her MyPod with one ear and listening to a friend on a cell phone with the other. Jenn hated it when customers didn’t even bother to take out their ear buds or turn off their phones. It was a complete lack of respect; as if the baristas didn’t warrant full attention. She asked the question again and when the customer still didn’t answer, she gave up and reached for a large cup. She didn’t have the patience for this. Not these days, anyway.
Jenn had received official word of her suspension during the annual Halloween party at 24 College Avenue. Athletic director Hudson Bay hadn’t even had the respect to inform her in person. Instead, he sent her a letter that had produced a howl of anguish from Jenn when she read it.
“Ms. Robins,’’ the letter began (Jenn wondered whether Bay had purposely misspelled her name or simply had never learned the correct spelling; she guessed the latter). “This letter is to officially inform you that you are hereby suspended as the State College mascot while the current legal issues resulting from your unfortunate accident are rectified. Please stay in contact with the department regarding your role in gathering evidence and testimony for a possible trial.’’
Unbeknownst to Jenn, Bay had wanted to dump her as mascot immediately after she hit Golden State quarterback Simeon Hearst while driving the Bubby-Mobile near the team’s bench during a game. The university’s lawyers, however, had convinced him to hold off, saying that to suspend Jenn would be to acknowledge wrong-doing and encourage a lawsuit.
Hearst, however, made that a moot point Halloween morning when he filed a $100 million lawsuit against State College for the probable loss of future income as a professional player as a direct result of the knee injuries he received in the accident. The crash so damaged the ACL and MCL in the quarterback’s right knee that it ended his season and quite likely dropped him from the projected No. 1 draft pick to not being drafted at all. After examinations by several of the nation’s top athletic orthopedics, the prognosis was that the knee damage was so substantial that it would take at least 18 months to recover and that Hearst probably would never regain his full speed or mobility.
“I worked my whole life to make myself the finest football player I could be,’’ a tearful Hearst said at his press conference that was televised live the next morning. “I had the opportunity to go pro last spring but chose to play my senior season to fully enjoy the college experience and lead Golden State to a fourth consecutive national championship. Now my college career is over and my pro career has been placed in serious jeopardy due to the irresponsible actions of State College and its mascot.’’
The worst part for Jenn was not the lawsuit – though that was bad enough – but that Hearst was right. She had been irresponsible. In her zeal to push the envelope as a mascot and position herself to win the first ever national collegiate mascot championship in the spring, she had crossed the line. She should never have introduced the Bubby-Mobile, or at least, she should never have taken her eyes off where she was going while driving it around the stadium track. Jenn had become a mascot in the first place to help athletic performances by rousing the crowd. But now because of her, an athlete’s career might be ruined.
Jenn has attempted to contact Hearst and apologize but he declined to see her while he was in the State College hospital that weekend and then the university lawyers advised her to say nothing publicly about the accident and to certainly not apologize or admit any wrongdoing. While State College was the specific defendant in the lawsuit, the lawyers pointed out that Jenn had never received approval to add the Bubby-Mobile to her routine or to drive it in a game and that should the university lose the suit, it could possibly garnishee a sizeable portion of her wages for the rest of her working life, or until she made up the $100 million, whichever came first.
One hundred million dollars, Jenn calculated as she handed the customer her Das Grosse with extra milk. I would have to work here for 800 years to make that much money. And then I would have to start paying off my student loan! I’ll always be poor and have to share an old filthy house with a bunch of other poor students my entire life.
When she thought about such things, Jenn wished she had never been Bubby the Red Devil. She wished she had never even returned to campus the previous year.
And then she looked up and saw the very sweaty, but very cute bicycle messenger walking up to the counter.
The bike messenger removed his helmet and rubbed a hand through his dark, curly hair. He grabbed a napkin from the counter and wiped the sweat from his brow and temples.
“Excuse me,’’ he said. “I got a little sweaty riding up the hill to campus.’’ He pointed to the bag on his shoulder. “I’m a bike messenger.’’
Jenn nodded. “I figured.’’
He gave Jenn a smile that made her think of Topher Grace from “That ‘70s Show.’’ “Yeah, right,’’ he said. “I guess it’s kind of obvious.’’ He looked at the menu board and ordered a strawberry-banana smoothie. As she prepared the order, he said, “Say, you look familiar. Are you Jenn Robbins, the Red Devils mascot?’’
“Yes,’’ Jenn said, somewhat pleased, slightly embarrassed. “Or, at least, I mean I was. The school just suspended me. You know. For the accident with the Golden State quarterback?’’
“You’re kidding,’’ the messenger said. “You’re like the best thing about the Red Devils. I love what you do. I mean, that time you bungy-jumped from the rafters of Buckley-Sheaffer Fieldhouse? And that time you catapulted through the hoop of fire? That’s was awesome, just awesome. By the way, how badly were you burned before the guys put you out with the fire extinguishers?’’
“Not as bad as when I miscalculated the charge in a flash pot before the homecoming game two years ago.’’
The messenger laughed. “I remember that. I was really worried that time. It’s good to see you’re OK now. I hope the school gives you medical coverage for all the stuff you do.’’
Jenn shook her head as she began blending the smoothie.
“Really?’’ the messenger said. “Wow. You’re at least on scholarship though, right?’
“Afraid not.’’ Jenn handed the messenger his smoothie.
“But that’s terrible,’’ he said. “If you ask me, you deserve it more than the football players.’’
“Yeah, right,’’ Jenn said with a laugh.
“No, I mean it,’’ he said. “I really respect how devoted you are to your craft. Most mascots just stand around and look stupid. But I can tell you take what you do as seriously as the athletes. Maybe even more so. You’re like the best athlete the Red Devils have.’’
This was music to Jenn’s ear because this was precisely how she always saw her role as Bubby. She wasn’t just a student dressed up in a stupid costume – she was a vital part of the athletic department. What she did was as important as what Kenan did with the football team, or what Jill or Nicollette had ever done for the basketball and track teams. She sure as hell put in more time than they did, required as she was to appear at almost every home game for almost every sport. Which is why she had been so excited at the possibility of competing for the first ever mascot national championship in the spring. It was a chance to finally be recognized for all the work she did. But because of the suspension, that looked like it would never happen now.
“That’s nice of you to say,’’ Jenn said, leaning her forearms on the counter and looking up at the messenger. “But right now, I don’t feel so good about being a mascot. Or having been a mascot. Because of what happened with Simeon Hearst, you know? I mean, I dedicated myself to boosting athletic performances and then I go out and do that and ruin his career? The school’s lawyers told me not to talk about this but I feel soooooooo guilty. It’s my fault that an athlete’s career may be over. I can’t tell you how badly I feel. It’s awful.’’
The messenger didn’t say anything for awhile. He just looked at Jenn, not knowing what to do. He took a long drink from his smoothie and finally spoke.
“You know what I think? I think you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident, something that just happened as part of your job. Same as if he had blown out the knee if you had been a linebacker and tackled him.’’
“Maybe.’’ As much as she wanted to be, Jenn was unconvinced. The difference was she wasn’t a player and she hadn’t tackled him. She was doing something she should not have been doing. But it was nice of him to say so anyway, whether he really believed so or not.
The messenger extended his hand toward her and they shook. “Let me introduce myself. My name’s Wes. Wes Port. And I know we just met but would you be interested in going out sometime? Maybe dinner or a movie?’’
Would she? Jenn couldn’t remember the last time she had had a real date. The last man she slept with turned out to be a 14-year-old in the school’s early genius program. And the time before that was when she and Kenan got drunk and . . . well, she didn’t want to even think about what resulted from that night. So, yes, she was interested in going out. Very interested.
“I would love to,’’ Jenn replied, hoping her smile didn’t reveal how flattered she was. “And it just happens that I have a lot of free evenings on my schedule now. You know, because of the suspension and everything.’’
Wes grinned and slapped his temple. “Oh, geez, that reminds me. The whole reason I came in here in the first place. I have something for you.’’ He reached into his messenger bag and grabbed an envelope, then handed it to Jenn.
“For me?’’ Jenn said, confused. “You brought me a card not even knowing I work here?’’
As she began to open the envelope, Wes shrugged awkwardly. “Well, actually, I did know you worked here. I kind of was supposed to deliver that to you. You know, as my job as a bike messenger.’’
Jenn opened the envelope and gasped as she read the contents. She glared at Wes.
“This is a summons from the law firm representing Simeon Hearst,’’ she said. “I’m required to appear at a deposition to provide testimony in his lawsuit against the university and me.’’
Next: Veterans Days
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