Chapter 2 #2
‘It means,’ Theo cuts in, not looking up from her lists, ‘they want to see you become less of a liability. They need reassurance you’re not going to drag their brand through another tabloid scandal, frolicking with three influencers and a bottle of Wreck the Hoose Juice on a golf course.’
Charlie’s eyes light up. ‘All they need is proof you’re trying. That you’re committed. Stable and settled.’
Theo scoffs, a small sound that somehow fills the room. ‘As if the likes of him ever settle.’
‘But what if he did?’ Charlie says, voice rising with excitement. ‘When an athlete gets caught in a scandal, they often redeem themselves with a dependable partner. A wholesome girlfriend or love story. The public laps it up.’
I stare at her. ‘Do you want me to lie? Pretend I’m suddenly madly in love?’
‘That’s the idea, yes,’ Charlie says slowly.
‘I hold someone’s hand in public and pretend I’ve changed? Fuck me. That’s bonkers. And also borderline blackmail.’
Charlie shakes her head. ‘No, Finn. This is publicity. Of course, you’re free to not do it.
You have free will – but you might not have a team or a contract anymore.
So, you need either a girlfriend or a time machine.
’ She lets out a ragged exhale. ‘And I swear to God, if I lose this agency because of one man’s dick… ’
Okay, yeah. But… My voice nearly sticks in my throat. ‘I never had a real girlfriend. That’s a known fact. Nobody’d believe it.’
‘They will if we sell it right.’ Charlie braces her arms across her chest. ‘Let’s run with that idea for a minute.
Let’s say you didn’t go on a hedonistic bender because you’re a daftie – but because you were heartbroken.
You had been dating in secret, she dumped you, then you spiralled.
No cheating, that’s important.’ A shadow crosses her face.
‘You were split up. But now you both realise what a terrible mistake you made. The public loves a grovelling man in emotional pain and a happily ever after.’
I shake my head. ‘That’s mental.’
‘Wrong. It’s brilliant,’ Charlie insists. ‘The rugby bad boy, humbled by true love. We sell the public the three Rs,’ she explains. ‘Regret – you didn’t cheat, you were broken up. Reform – you’re fixing yourself. Romance – you did it all because you thought you lost your one true love.’
Theo’s pen stops moving. ‘It could work.’ Her tone stays cool and analytical. ‘But we’d need the right woman. Someone credible and professional. Someone who doesn’t get…caught up. Someone who balances out his…whatever this is.’ She gestures vaguely in my direction.
‘And who the hell would be insane enough to agree to that?’ I ask, because I honestly have no idea. It’s not like there’s a ‘fake girlfriend for hire’-agency. Or is there? Either way, I’m not interested. And if we can’t find anyone, this bullshit idea might go away. I can sit it out.
The quiet stretches, taut as a pulled hamstring. Theo’s eyes flick to Charlie, then to me. One beat, two.
‘Me,’ she says suddenly. ‘I’ll do it.’
Charlie turns her head sharply to stare at Theo.
My jaw drops. ‘Wait. You?’
‘Yes, me.’ She meets my gaze head-on. ‘I’m already handling your social media rehabilitation. This is merely an extension of that.’
‘But—’
‘I’m organised and reliable. The opposite of your type. Gives it a realistic edge.’
‘My type?’
‘Blonde, leggy, rich, famous, likes to party.’ She ticks them off on her fingers. ‘I’m none of those things.’
‘I don’t have a type,’ I protest, but my eyes drift to her curves despite myself.
Not that I’d say it aloud, because I know better, but they painted curves like that on bomber planes in the Second World War.
‘Are you serious about this?’ Charlie’s focus narrows to Theo’s face.
‘Deadly.’ Theo adjusts her posture, subtle but exact. ‘We can frame it as workplace romance. Happens all the time.’ Now her gaze darkens for a second. ‘It’s the most logical and efficient solution. I’m familiar with the strategy and can control the narrative. Keep him in line.’
‘Keep me in line?’ I cough out a laugh. ‘I’m not a dog.’
‘True. Dogs can be trained.’ Her gaze flicks over me. ‘Consider it a professional arrangement, leash optional.’
‘What’s in it for you?’ I watch her too closely and let her sense it.
Her shoulders lift a fraction, lips firming into a neutral line before she answers. ‘Elite Edge’s survival. My job, which I happen to really, really like.’
I lean back and take her in. The navy pencil skirt. The way she holds herself, spine straight, shoulders back.
Charlie clears her throat. ‘This is…unexpected. But yeah, it might work. We can trust Theo. She’s smart and capable with girl next door vibes.’
‘And completely not my type,’ I add with a wink. ‘Your words, not mine.’
Theo’s eyes frost over. ‘Which makes it perfect.’
Perfect isn’t the word I’d use. Insane, more like. ‘So, you’ll be my…girlfriend.’
‘Your redemption arc and colleague,’ she corrects. ‘Nothing more. Nothing less.’
I study her face. Those full lips, the cool depth in her eyes. She’s not afraid of me. Not impressed by me. And not interested in me at all.
The last one stings a bit, I have to admit.
‘So, we’re agreed?’ Charlie taps a manicured nail against her phone. The tap-tap-tap grates on my already frayed nerves.
‘Aye,’ I mumble, even though ‘agreed’ is a vast understatement. More like reluctantly strapped to a rocket headed for Planet Awkward.
‘Fab. We tell the team you fell in love at work and had been secretly seeing each other for a while before you briefly broke up. Needed to keep it quiet. Professional and personal reasons. Blah blah. The usual bollocks. The team needs to buy it,’ Charlie explains and ignores my existential dread.
‘Except… We have to tell Brodie. He can smell bullshit from a mile off, and no one in this room wants to incur his wrath when he does.’
I glance at Theo, who’s busy making a list. Her fringe falls across her forehead, and she blows it aside with an impatient puff. Focussed and precise. Everything I’m not.
‘Okay.’ I tap a finger against my own knee, trying to match Charlie’s irritating rhythm. ‘And what exactly would that involve?’
Theo hands me a sheet of paper, bullet-pointed in meticulous handwriting. ‘Only touching in public. Kissing is acceptable, but no tongues.’
Charlie coughs into her fist.
Kissing Theo? The thought lights up the part of me that never learns, a mix of panic and…intrigue, perhaps. Or the lingering aftertaste of last week’s debauchery. Who can tell?
‘Social media posts,’ she continues. ‘Photos of us together. Casual dates. Just enough to…’
‘…convince the world I’m not a self-destructive sexaholic?’ I finish for her.
She nods. ‘Aye. I’ll create a schedule of appearances. This is strictly performative and professional.’
No one speaks. The space between us turns dense enough to feel. Theo watches me, those violet-blue eyes searching for the catch, the angle, the hidden play.
I let out a defeated sigh. ‘How long will this charade last?’
‘Until the season ends in May, so roughly five months,’ Charlie says, fingers steepled under her chin. ‘With my luck, I’m sure that by then, some other player will have screwed up royally. And you two can have a civilised, amicable, quiet split.’
‘We go our separate ways,’ Theo says. ‘No hard feelings. No messy breakup. Just…puff and gone.’
Puff and gone. As if whatever shred of reputation I might’ve had hadn’t already puffed and gone in a cloud of champagne and glitter.
Five months of pretending to be someone I’m not. With someone who’s the exact opposite of…well, everyone I’ve ever been with, myself included.
But then I think of the exhaustion etched around Charlie’s eyes. How her words wobbled when she mentioned her father. Of Brodie, catching flak at the gym. The Rebels, the lads who’ve become my family in the past eight months since the team’s formation.
‘Fine,’ I say, tighter than I mean. ‘I’ll survive five months.’
Not for the optics or for the sponsors or even for myself. But for them, for Charlie and Theo and the team. I’m not in Glasgow today to bury my father. But I might be burying the part of me he made. For the first time in my life, I’m trying to do the right thing.
I’m going to lie through my teeth.
But for a good cause. My redemption and my career, Charlie’s agency, Theo’s job.
‘Awright, Miss MacMickin,’ I say, ‘Let’s see how you turn me into boyfriend material.’