Chapter 3
THREE
NOAH
The gym at Brockton FC’s training centre, Newby Park, was huge. They had every exercise machine known to man in there. Most of them multiple times. Physical fitness was the name of the game in these parts. And they clearly meant business.
It was far better than the club Noah had moved from.
Winterbourne FC were also in the Premier League but were seen as the poor relations by most of the other clubs.
Even though they were technically rivals, Noah still wished the best for them.
They didn’t pose much of a threat to Brockton in their current form.
Noah hopped onto an Assault AirBike. He generally liked to ride a real bicycle along the country lanes surrounding Brockton.
However, as was so often the case, the weather was against him.
Rain pelted against the huge glass windows.
This new piece of kit was Noah’s current favourite.
Using the handles, he could control the resistance easily, giving him a full body workout.
Noah pedalled. Slowly at first. He wanted to build up to going full pelt and really getting that sweat going. Once he hit the right tempo, he grabbed the handles. The struggle was real but he wouldn’t give up. Noah prided himself on his whole body being in tiptop condition.
Tito Lopes was doing lateral exercises next to him. His legs might be the moneymakers, but Tito obsessed about keeping all his muscle groups perfectly pumped.
“Am I driving you home after this?” Tito asked.
“If you don’t mind,” Noah replied. “I need to call into the estate agents on the way. They’ve got the signed documents for my land.”
Tito grunted as he hauled the 70kg weight once again. Noah shook his head as he caught Tito watching himself in the mirrors that lined one wall. It was true to say that Tito enjoyed the aesthetic outcome of exercise just as much as the health benefits.
“I thought they finalised everything before Christmas?”
“They did,” Noah replied. “I need to get the documents.”
“What’s next?”
Noah worked the handles harder to increase the resistance on the machine. Already perspiration beaded on his forehead. He loved this feeling.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”
Tito let the weights settle. He grabbed his sweat towel and wiped his brow.
“Fucking hell, Noah,” he said. “You’re making a major deal out of this.”
Before Noah had a chance to answer, Ewen Armitage, Brockton’s other striker, took the bike next to him.
“What are you two squabbling about?” he asked.
“Noah is still banging on about this plot of land,” Tito explained. “And I’m saying he needs to get on with it instead of endless talking.”
Ewen spun round on the bike seat, so he faced Noah. Ewen probably had three good playing years left in him. Even so, he remained a fan favourite. With his floppy hair and cheeky grin, a lot of female supporters swooned when he came onto the pitch.
Yet he remained single.
“You’re wanting to build your own place?” he asked.
“Not with my bare hands,” Noah replied, panting.
“First off you need an architect,” Ewen said. “Adam got a great one when he did his house up. Maybe he can give you their details.”
“Hey, I know,” Tito cut in. “Stefano at La Piazza said his son’s an architect, remember? Reckons he’s come home after being in L.A. Is that fancy enough for you?”
Noah did recall a conversation they’d had with the owner of the team’s favourite restaurant. He’d been excited that his son had returned to the fold.
“L.A?” he replied. “I bet he charges a fortune.”
“Only one way to find out,” Ewen said. “Give him a try.”
Ewen got his phone out of his tracksuit pocket and tapped away. In no time he handed it to Noah.
There was a news article from a Manchester-based website. The headline read L.A. to Deansgate. Why Carmine Amato came home.
What caught Noah’s attention was the photograph which accompanied the piece. The man smiling from the page took his breath away.
He’s gorgeous.
The combination of dark hair and olive skin was a knockout. Yet there was something in this man’s eyes that really spoke to Noah.
After handing the device back to Ewen, Noah took his own mobile out and searched for Carmine Amato Architect.
Instantly a phone number and address came up.
“Right,” he said, getting off the bike. “I’ll do it right now.”
Noah stretched his calves. Stopping midway through a workout could make him seize up. Javier, Brockton’s manager, would not be pleased if he injured himself proving a point to Tito and Ewen.
“Thank fuck for that,” Tito replied. “I can’t deal with this much longer.”
Ewen sniggered. “Dramatic much?”
He got a one-fingered salute from Tito for his answer.
These two winding each other up had become a solid fixture of life at Brockton. Noah went out into the corridor. He dialled the number and waited.
“Amato Architect practice. Samantha speaking.”
“Oh hello, Samantha. I…well…”
“Can I help?”
“Yes. I’ve bought some land and I need someone to design a house for it.”
“You’ve come to the right place. Who is speaking, please?”
Noah glanced around. He hated dealing with professional people. It brought out his insecurities.
“My name is Noah Farman.”
There was silence for a second. “Noah Farman?”
“Yeah.”
“Like the football player?”
“I am the football player.”
“Give me one second.”
He was put on hold. The music was a pan pipe version of Pink Pony Club. Noah loved the original. This rendition not so much. Even so, he would be humming it for the rest of the day.
Mercifully, Samantha came back on the line super quickly.
“Good news, Mr Farman. We have an opening. Can you get here for three?”
Once they’d finished with training, Noah had planned on spending an afternoon on the PlayStation. But why not strike while the iron was hot? Tito would be more than impressed.
“Sure,” he replied. “I’ll be there.”
“Mr Amato is looking forward to it.”
They terminated the call.
As easy as that?
Noah had no illusion his name had fast-tracked him. It happened a lot. Most of the time he hated using his celebrity status to get things. However, occasionally it came in very useful indeed.
Over the years, he had arranged for Malcolm to meet pretty much every footballer currently playing at topflight level. He’d also taken Ashley and the kids on some great holidays where they found upgrades readily available.
It didn’t sit right with him that he got all this for free when he already earnt so much. It seemed topsy-turvy.
He walked into the gym. Tito and Ewen were watching him closely as he joined them again.
“Well?” Tito asked.
“I’ve got an appointment this afternoon.”
Noah hopped back onto the bike. He would have to rush through the rest of his workout if he was going to get showered and changed before heading into Manchester. The last thing he wanted was to arrive looking sweaty and scruffy.
Ewen clapped him on the shoulder. “Good work.”
“It’s you who did it,” Noah replied. “Thanks for giving me the kick up the arse I needed.”
As he resumed pedalling, he caught Tito scowling.
Thankfully before Tito had the opportunity to make a barbed comment about Ewen, Adam Williams, captain of the team, walked in.
“Listen up, guys,” he said. “This is a quick reminder that I’m hosting my annual January fancy dress party soon.”
Noah turned to Ewen. “January fancy dress?”
“He always does this. Because we have to work so bloody hard over Christmas, they let us have a do on the first international weekend of the year.”
Many footballers in the Premier League played for their national side. Unfortunately, Brockton didn’t have any players who were on the consideration list. So it generally meant that they had the weekend off. Noah had been planning on visiting Malcolm. Why not do both?
“What’s the theme, Skipper?” Ewen asked.
Adam had a glint in his eye. “It’s a pyjama party.”
“In January?” Tito asked. “It will be freezing.”
“Depends what you wear to bed, Lopes,” Adam replied.
Tito shrugged. “Nothing usually.”
“Then I’d suggest you buy something a little warmer.”
The others all laughed and jeered at Tito, who answered them with a huge grin. Nothing seemed to affect him.
“Maybe I will,” Tito replied. “Or perhaps I’ll come in the nude.”
“I’ll crank up the heating,” Adam said. “Right you lot. Enough of hiding away in here. I want you all on the touchline in five minutes.”
Ewen groaned. “What for? We’ve done the outside stuff for the day.”
Adam ruffled his hair.
“Oi,” Ewen cried. “Less of it.”
Ewen hated people messing with his hair above anything else. His hairstyle was his pride and joy.
“Don’t cry. A few laps of the pitch will have more of an impact than fannying around on an exercise bike. Let’s move.”
With varying degrees of misery, they all followed the captain through the corridors and out onto the pitch. The rain still hammered down.
“If we catch a cold, the boss will be after your bollocks,” Tito grumbled.
“Whose idea do you think it was?” Adam replied. “If you’ve got any complaints, let him know.”
“I will.”
Adam pointed to one of the windows in the training facility. Javier and assistant manager, Steven Cox were standing there. Adam gave them a wave.
“How about you get your laps done first?” Adam asked. “Then you can raise your issues with them.”
Noah sidled up to Tito. “I think you might as well give up.”
“This would never happen at Liverpool.”
Ewen was on the other side of them. “Tito. I don’t think you’re in Liverpool anymore.”
Tito stuck out his tongue. Before he could come up with a suitable response, Adam set off jogging along the perimeter of the training pitch. The others had no choice but to follow.
Noah found himself next to Goran. The goalkeeper at Brockton as well as his official Brockton buddy.
When Noah, Tito and Jonas had joined the squad, Javier had paired them up with veteran players to help with the settling in process.
Noah liked Goran very much. He had invited him to his home on more than one occasion.
“Tito tells me you finally got an architect?” Goran asked.
“Word travels fast.”
“It does when that gobshite is involved. Are you excited?”
“Yeah,” Noah replied. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Why wait?”
“I couldn’t afford it.”
Goran frowned. “You’ve been a Premier League player for a few years now. What do you mean you couldn’t afford it? Surely Winterbourne aren’t that poor.”
Noah’s face burnt and it wasn’t only due to his elevated heart rate. He hated talking about financial things with other people. The rest of the team were very open about their spending habits. Noah felt that it was a private matter between him and his accountant.
“I’ve been saving my cash.”
“How many rainy days are you expecting?”
“I just don’t believe in waste.”
They ran for a little longer.
“Sorry,” Goran said. “That’s none of my business.”
“Don’t worry.”
Goran was barely out of breath. Noah was struggling. Not that he would let it show for one instant. This is what happened when he wasn’t totally focused on the job.
“Make sure you don’t take any shit from this architect,” Goran said. “When we did our place, some of the ideas our guy had were ridiculous. Luckily Paloma knew exactly what she wanted. And believe me, nothing and no one puts her off course.”
Paloma, Goran’s wife, was a firebrand. She starred in a successful soap opera although was on maternity leave currently. Noah could well imagine that she would not be distracted by an architect’s opinion.
His mind drifted to the photo of Carmine. The man was model gorgeous. Noah hoped that wouldn’t be an issue. He’d never been a naturally assertive individual. Even less so with someone so attractive.
He would have to dig deep.
Maybe I should ask Tito to go with me.
As soon as the idea entered his head, he dismissed it. Firstly, because he needed to stand on his own two feet. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, he wanted to be on his own with Carmine. Tito would command the room and probably bag Carmine’s personal mobile number.
Why should that be a problem? Because deep down, Noah wanted that for himself.