20. Callan
CHAPTER TWENTY
CALLAN
I followed Baird from the training grounds to Leith. While he’d surprised most people by moving to the picturesque medieval Dean Village a twenty-five-minute walk west of my place, his sister Ainsley lived in a modern apartment in Newhaven.
We met Ainsley at a pub in the heart of Leith and instantly regretted it as we crossed the room toward her where she sat at a window booth.
“Yo! He’s slick, he’s class, he’s faster than the Flash, Callan Keen! Callan Keen!”
I glanced over my shoulder at the bar where a lad around my age was chanting. I gave him a toothless smile and a wave before sliding into the booth beside Baird, across from Ainsley. It was difficult, but I also pretended not to see the phones popping up to take our photo.
“He’s slick, he’s class, he’s faster than the Flash, Callan Keen! Callan Keen!”
Ainsley rolled her eyes with a good-natured grin.
“It wis fun watchin’ ye get fucked up the arse last weekend, lads!” the chanter’s companion shouted with a sneer. “Dalmarnock goat ye nice and lubed for the fuckin’ Leith is gonnae gee ye!”
“Enough!” a deep voice boomed from behind the bar. “You leave my patrons alone or get out.”
The pub went quiet, and Baird and I shared a glance as we felt the burning stares of the entire place. The only sound that broke the silence was the fake shutter noise of phone cameras clicking. After a few beats, however, conversation picked up again.
“You two know how to make an entrance,” Baird’s sister teased.
“I need a chant,” Baird grumbled. “I’m one of the best goalies in the country. Where’s my chant?”
His sister cocked her head in thought. Ainsley was surprisingly petite compared to her brother, but they shared the same dark hair and eyes. “I think your name is the problem, not your talent. How the hell do you chant Baird McMillan? Just doesn’t have the same ring to it as Callan Keen. Too many syllables.”
That seemed to appease Baird.
“Would you like to order food?”
We all looked up at the young, attractive waitress. She stared at me, an inviting smile on her lips. Her long blond hair was swept up in a high ponytail and she’d created cat eyes with her makeup. There was enough of a hint of Beth to her that I looked away as Baird asked for menus.
“How are you?” I asked Ainsley as the waitress walked away.
Ainsley was Baird’s older sister by two years. Their dad took off when Baird was born, and their mum had moved them in with their grandparents in Falkirk. They were a close-knit family and Ainsley had fallen in love with Edinburgh when she studied art history here. It suited Baird just fine to have his sister in the same city.
“I got a new client this week, so I’m good.” She was an interior designer. Her business had taken off on social media when her design videos started racking up some nice views. “How are you after last week’s defeat?” She gestured toward the bar where the arsehole had called us out.
Before I could respond, a shadow fell over the table. It wasn’t the waitress. An older man, eyes glazed with the whisky he reeked of, put his hand on my shoulder and bent his head to mine. “Just wanted to come over and tell you laddies not to worry about last week.” He slightly slurred his words. “Not your fault. Not your fault.” I was nodding along politely while inside wishing for a moment of peace when his sympathetic smile turned wicked. “But I’m a Leith United man, so I could give a fuck. Imagine getting whipped by Dalmarnock, you pathetic bunch of pussies.”
Considering Dalmarnock were the reigning champions, his comment made no bloody sense.
Ainsley reached across and shoved the man’s hand off my shoulder. “Fuck off. You’re the pathetic one.”
He stumbled back, eyes blinking blearily at her. “You don’t talk to me like that, you cu?—”
“Finish that and die.” Baird nudged me hard, and even though I knew I should stop him, I slid from the booth to let him out.
My friend and teammate towered over the drunk. “Whit were ye gonnae say tae ma sister?” Baird asked with quiet menace, his accent slipping.
“He’s just drunk.” A short, younger bloke was suddenly at the drunk’s side. “Dad, leave it, eh.”
The drunk curled his lip. “I can say what I want, ye wanker!”
Seeing his fist tighten, I grabbed Baird’s shoulder. “He’s not worth the fine,” I reminded him. Any antisocial behavior on or off the grounds resulted in having to pay a hefty fine to the club.
“Settle, lads.” The bartender, a big bruiser of a man who was a fair match for Baird, crossed the now quiet pub. “Ant, get your dad out of here,” he ordered the short guy. “And I’ll not let you back in here if this happens again.”
Two more people appeared to help Ant get his moronic, drunk father out of the pub. I’d like to say this was the first time we’d encountered such a situation, but it definitely was not.
The bartender sighed and turned to us. “I’m Al. I own the place. Sorry about the hassle.” He glanced sternly around the pub and said loudly, “It won’t happen again, or folks will find themselves out on their arse.” Al turned back to us. “Your meal is on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“No. I do. No one gets hassled in my pub. No matter who they are.” We really shouldn’t have come to a pub in Leith.
I gave him a nod of thanks, though, and then nudged a still furious Baird back into the booth.
Ainsley eyed her brother in concern. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Conversation rose again. Baird narrowed his eyes. “You should be able to say what you want without some prick talking to you like that.”
“I don’t know how you guys put up with this.” Ainsley frowned. “People think they have the right to shit all over you.”
“It doesn’t happen all the time,” I assured her. “We’ve got places we can go where we get peace. But we’re the bad guys here, Ainsley. Leith United fans hate us.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, her short dark hair swinging around her face. “It’s appalling. How would they feel if someone came up to them on a daily basis to criticize how they were doing at work?”
I nudged Baird with my shoulder instead of answering his sister’s rhetorical question. The truth was, I couldn’t let comments like that get to me. They used to when I first started playing professionally, but I’d found a way to compartmentalize them. When national newspapers turned the criticism into blazing headlines, I had to find that place in me that could let it roll off my back. Some days that was easier than others. But I had to try, or the pressure might break me. “You calm now?”
Baird wasn’t easily riled, but if you messed with his sister, he’d mess with your fucking face.
“Aye, aye, I’m fine. Just hangry. Where are those menus?”
The waitress returned seconds later with them, and we quickly ordered food before chatting with Ains. She and Baird talked every day, so it was mostly me and her catching up.
“How’s Helen?” I asked about the woman she’d been seeing last time I saw her.
Ainsley snorted. “Oh, she lasted all of five seconds. I’m seeing a guy called Ky at the moment. He’s not the brightest highlighter in the pack, but he’s fun in the bedroom.”
Baird grimaced as I chuckled. “What happened with Helen?”
“Uh, we’d only been dating six weeks when she asked for a key to my flat.” She bugged her eyes out. “Like … no.”
Understanding her horror, I nodded.
“My flat is my space. It will take finding someone I can’t live without before I give up my autonomy.”
“I’ll never give up my autonomy,” I promised.
“I don’t know.” Baird shrugged. “It might be nice to come home to someone.”
Ainsley gave her brother a tender smile. “You’re so cute.”
“I am well aware of my adorableness.”
The food arrived and the pretty waitress turned to me as she settled my plate on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Just give me a shout if that changes.” She slid a piece of paper onto the table and then sashayed away.
“Is that her number?” Ainsley asked, a huge grin on her face.
Sighing, I lifted the paper and turned it over. It had Anabeth scrawled across it with her number.
Ana beth .
Fuck.
I couldn’t escape the woman.
“You want it?” I asked her.
She raised an eyebrow. “She’s a bit young for my tastes. You don’t want it?”
I shook my head and left the invitation on the table. “I’m taking a break from all that shite.”
“Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”
“More for me,” Baird said before taking a massive bite of his burger.
His sister pursed her lips. “As long as you’re being careful, wee bro.”
“Always,” he mumbled.
“So, what’s with the drought?” Ains asked me. “Is it that ugly couch you threw in with my design? I told you women wouldn’t go for it.”
I grimaced. “It’s not the couch.”
“At least let me reupholster it.”
“I’ve already told you?—”
“It might impact the comfort level,” she mimicked in a gruff voice. “Weirdo.”
“Takes one to know one.” I turned to Baird, changing the subject. “Chris said Carmichael asked us to stop reaching out.”
“Chris?” Ainsley raised an eyebrow.
“Our solicitor.”
Baird shrugged as he wiped a napkin over his mouth. “Well, that’s that. We’ll need to find another property.”
“Is this for the hotel and spa?”
I looked at Ains and nodded. “Braden Carmichael owns the castle. He won’t see us for some reason.”
“Maybe he’s not a football fan.”
Nah, there was something else going on. “If we could just talk to him …”
“Or we look for another property.”
I wanted that castle. I had my heart set on that property. It was perfect for our plans.
My gaze moved past Baird out the window and it was as if my mind had conjured her.
Across the street, standing outside a building and helping a guy unload boxes and bags from his truck was Beth bloody Carmichael.
No way. “What the fuck?”
Baird and Ainsley followed my gaze as Beth carried a box inside the building. What was she doing here?
“What is it?” Ainsley waved a hand in front of my face.
“Do you know what’s going on there?” I nodded across the street as Beth reappeared out of the door.
“Is that your hot neighbor?” Baird leaned closer to the window.
“It’s the local food bank,” Ainsley answered. “Looks like the volunteers are unloading supplies.”
Food bank? Volunteers?
“That is Beth. Fuck … she’s gorgeous and she helps feed those in need.” Baird grinned at me. “I don’t know how you can hate her.”
Ainsley practically pressed her forehead to the window to see. “Hate who? What hot neighbor? Can someone catch me up?”
“See that stunning blond … that’s Keen’s neighbor. He can’t stand her for some reason he has yet to divulge.”
Brother and sister turned to stare at me with twin curious expressions.
I ignored them, watching Beth stride back into the food bank.
Who cared if she volunteered at a food bank? That didn’t fundamentally change who she was. But I didn’t need to like Beth to ask for her help.
And by help, I meant cashing in on that favor she owed me.
“I know how we can get a meeting with Braden.”
“What? Huh?” Baird screwed up his face comically. “Don’t change the sub?—”
“Beth.” I gestured to the window. “She owes me a favor.”
“And?”
I looked Baird in the eye. “Her name is Beth Carmichael . She’s Braden Carmichael’s daughter.”
Understanding dawned on Baird’s face. Then delight. “We’re going to get this meeting.”
“Aye. We are.”