CHAPTER 3 #2
Scarlett jumped as if she had been caught passing a note in class, causing her phone to fly up. Thankfully, she grabbed it instantly and held it to her chest.
“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh no, it’s fine. Come in.”
“You’ll have to forgive me about earlier. I was, um, surprised to see Marrero in your office. We don’t usually see each other—the other managers, I mean. That is to say, the men’s managers and women’s managers don’t often cross paths, you see.”
The man’s mouth twitched as he stumbled over his words, and while Scarlett was very interested in his history with Marrero, she held up her hand.
“It’s perfectly fine. I understand.”
He sighed, visibly relieved. “Good. Then perhaps you’d be interested in watching the end of practice from the stands?”
“Sure, that’d be great, but shouldn’t you be at practice?” she asked, standing.
“Ross told me to make my meeting with you a priority.”
That gave Scarlett pause. “Theo Ross told you that?” she asked as they left the office. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Oh, Theo’s a good lad, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges. Particularly what with all the stress that comes with this job.”
Scarlett knew about that. Coaching any professional sports team was not for the faint of heart. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“And what with his losing streak last year, he puts it all on himself. Poor fellow.” Gary shook his head. “He’s too young to be so jaded, but he’s had a bit of a rough go.”
Scarlett had done research on all the players and managers, Theo included, but she hadn’t found out a lot on him.
He had played professionally for nine years, a keeper who had been known as the Cat for his ability to catch the ball with ease.
After two less-than-stellar final years, he’d retired and taken an assistant manager position with the EFL Cup for four years, helping his team reach the finals three times before being brought on as an assistant manager with the Bees two years ago and then promoted to head manager last year.
Of course, that had been an abysmal season, and while he had signed a two-year contract, it was widely believed that he was too green for a head manager position.
Scarlett wasn’t the least bit interested in Theo’s career, however. He didn’t exactly strike her as someone to waste her energy on, considering how short he had been with her.
“Last year wasn’t great for the Bees,” she said.
Gary laughed. “That’s an understatement.
We were right rubbish last year. But it wasn’t Theo’s fault—at least, not the majority of it.
” They rounded a corner, and Gary opened a door on the right that led out into the open stands.
The sky was overcast, and the air was as cool as it had been yesterday.
This was the visitors’ box, and Scarlett could see the entire stadium from up here, as well as the players on the pitch.
“Deago Strauss fought him every minute of the season.”
Scarlett frowned, familiar with the name. “Deago Strauss, as in two-time Premier League Player of the Season?”
“The very same.”
“He scored the winning goal in the semifinals during the World Cup almost… fifteen years ago.”
“Aye.”
“Wouldn’t he be, like, in his mid-forties by now?”
“He was forty-six last year.”
While forty-six wasn’t particularly old for your average person, it was positively archaic for a footballer.
“Why was he on the team?” she asked as she followed Gary down the line of chairs, sitting next to him as he sat. “Shouldn’t he have retired ages ago?”
“Seems he was a favorite of Chard’s for years, and the boss wanted to bring him out of retirement, give his old hero a shot at playing again.
Of course, he hadn’t been on the pitch in ten years and has a bit of a drinking problem now, but it didn’t matter.
Theo tried to explain that it was insane to think we’d win any game with him starting, and he was right.
But Strauss took it personally and railroaded Theo the entire season. ”
A pinch of pity hit Scarlett in the gut. “That sucks.”
“It did. But, at the end of the season, Chard couldn’t argue with the facts. He let Strauss go and left Theo and me with a team that is as unruly and misguided as ever.”
They watched in silence as the team ran drills.
A chilly breeze swept over them, and the pale gray skies darkened, indicating rain.
Gazing down at the field, Scarlett saw Theo standing in the middle of the pitch, pointing and shouting.
It was strange to see him dressed in a suit on the pitch.
Most managers nowadays wore athletic wear, but Scarlett couldn’t help but think of her grandpa at that moment.
When she was little, her grandfather had been a fan of the New York Jets and would constantly comment about how back in his day, coaches wore suits, referencing the likes of Walt Michaels or Weeb Ewbank.
Nowadays, teams were contracted by sponsors, and everyone on the sidelines was required to wear gear advertising said sponsors, but there were still plenty of managers in the European leagues that wore suits.
As her eyes followed, Theo marched back and forth, yelling at his players.
“How do you think they’ll do this year?” she asked.
“Hard to say. They’re a good lot of players, even if they get at each other’s throats from time to time. If they could harness that energy into winning, I’d be hard-pressed to find a better team in this league. But who knows.”
“Who are your starters?”
“Miles and Aban are our forwards, and they’re both probably the best on the team, but they’re as different as night and day.
Miles can’t keep from getting into fights with everyone, on the team or not, while Aban is almost too afraid to step on toes.
Theo’s been threatening to put Miles in as a fullback if he doesn’t stop causing problems. Josh Majka and Frank Templeton are two of our better midfielders, but Frank is nearsighted and refuses to wear game goggles, and Josh is American.
” Scarlett’s brow hitched up, and Gary did a double take.
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with being American. ”
“Thank you,” she said dryly.
“It’s only that there’s not a lot of respect for American players over here, as you might imagine.”
Unfortunately, Scarlett knew that to be true. She grimaced. “I get that. But why exactly won’t Templeton wear goggles?”
“He says it’s more of a distraction than not being able to see, but take that with a grain of salt. He’s the vainest on the team. The other midfielders are decent and willing to follow calls, but then there’s Stanley Weeks.”
“I’ve read about him. The keeper?”
Gary nodded slowly. “He’s a bit of a superstitious fellow, but he also might be suffering from some sort of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
He can’t start a practice or game without doing one hundred and three laps around the pitch, which of course leaves him more exhausted than warmed up.
He doesn’t let the kit guys take any of his clothes, as he insists on washing them at home.
There’s also the bee allergy situation.”
“Bee allergy?”
Gary sighed. “Medically, he’s been cleared by the team’s doctors, but he’s convinced he’s allergic to bees, which has somehow developed into a problem regarding the team’s nutrition.”
She frowned. “How so?”
“He’s convinced that one of the sponsors, Westfall Foods, who has a contract with the stadium, laces their foods with honey, making the food inedible for him.”
Scarlett stared at the assistant manager, who pursed his lips and nodded, as if agreeing with what she was thinking.
“Is there a therapist on staff that might be able to talk with him?”
“We do have a therapist on staff, but he’s so far refused, and short of banning him from playing, we can’t get him to go.”
“Who’s his replacement?”
“Er…” Gary said, glancing down at the pitch. He pointed to the sole body on the bench on the side of the field. “Cavaiani. Signed with us last year, seventeen years old. Was regarded as one of the best keepers in his year.”
Scarlett sensed another but coming.
“But on his first day with the Bees, he slipped on the stairs and broke his wrist.”
“Oh my God,” Scarlett said, covering her mouth as she tried to stifle a piteous laugh. “Is this team cursed?”
“Weeks would tell you yes.”
Letting out a breath, Scarlett pressed her palms onto her knees and stood, still watching the team run drills. “Well then, it appears we have some work to do,” she said as Gary stood too. “Thank you for letting me know about the men’s team.”
“Sure thing,” he said, gazing down at the pitch. Then his hand went up in a sort of half wave. “I hope Ross doesn’t give you too much guff. He’s a good guy, but he’s taken every loss personally. It’s taken a toll on him.”
Scarlett glanced back down at the field, and with him so far away, she could still feel Theo’s eyes on her. She knew what Gary meant. “This game will do that to you.”
With that, Scarlett left, moving down the row until she reached the stairs that led back inside. As the door closed behind her, the phone in her pocket dinged.
Would you be opposed to meeting up sometime?
Scarlett swallowed. Did she want to meet up? With a stranger? That was a good question, but having just arrived in Manchester and learned all about the slew of issues that she was going to have to handle over the next few days, she wondered if it was the best idea.
Chewing the inside of her bottom lip, she texted back.
I don’t know if now is the best time, what with being in a new city and at a new job…
I hear you.
But I enjoy our texts. I wouldn’t mind doing this for a while. If you are interested.
Scarlett tried to ignore the trepidation coursing through her.
Absolutely.
Letting out a breath, Scarlett tried and failed to fight off a grin.
It was ridiculous to be so excited about something as trivial as sending anonymous texts back and forth.
But as she reached her office and started to mentally check all the things she was going to have to do over the next few weeks, she realized that it was for the best. She didn’t have any extra time to start anything, and a secret back-and-forth with a stranger might be enough to keep her from drowning in her work.