CHAPTER 15
Friday’s game was against the formidable Watford FC, who were currently leading the league.
As it was a home game, Scarlett was set up in the owner’s box with Marrero, who was happily sipping on a mimosa in the corner of the booth.
After saying hello to Chard and his brother, Scarlett moved through the crowd.
“Hey,” she said, once reaching Marrero. “Brilliant win last night. Could you hear me from the stands? I was losing my mind.”
The women’s team had dominated last night in a game that had set the city buzzing. They had even been mentioned on Sky Sports, with a flattering report on Marrero’s coaching style. She had obviously heard about it, as she was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hopefully the men will be able to keep up with the women,” Scarlett said, gazing out over the field below. “But Gary says your team is outrageously good. He said he caught a few of your practices this past week.”
“Well, that was kind of him to say,” Marrero replied, and Scarlett noticed the tips of her ears became red.
She knew it wasn’t any of her business, but with the women’s team doing so well and Scarlett experiencing a certain bout of tenderness after her little phone date with Mr. Wrong Number, she was compelled to ask. Leaning to her right, she lowered her voice.
“Can I ask, what’s the history between you and Gary?”
Marrero blinked, staring straight ahead as she took a bracing sip of her cocktail. Scarlett worried that she had asked too personal a question, but then Marrero cleared her throat.
“There’s not much to tell, really. We met years ago, back in uni,” she began, her voice low so no one else around them could hear.
Scarlett strained to listen. “And we were both captains for our football teams—him for the men’s, me for the women’s, obviously.
We became friends after a while and eventually began seeing each other, but…
” She paused. “We wanted different things in life back then. He wanted what his parents had, I suppose, and for a while, I convinced myself that I wanted that life too.” She paused, and a regretful expression flashed on her face.
“I even accepted his proposal, half sure I could suck it up and go through with it. But then I got a job offer in the States.”
“You did?”
“Mmhmm,” she said. “At Long Island City University. They were searching for a head coach for their women’s soccer program. I wasn’t the best player, you see, but I knew the game better than anyone, and there weren’t a lot of opportunities here in England for a woman back then, so I accepted.”
“How did Gary take it?”
“Better than his mother.” Marrero grimaced. “He was actually very understanding, and we parted amicably. I always figured he’d marry, become a teacher or something. But then when they brought me in to interview for the manager position for the women’s team, I ran into him.”
Scarlett’s brows lifted. “That must have been a shock.”
“It was.” Marrero was quiet for a moment, her eyes unfocused as she gazed out of the owner’s box.
“I’m not sure why he never married, though.
He was always so nice and very sweet. He should have had his pick.
” Another moment of wondering, but then she shook her head and glanced at Scarlett.
“Anyway, now we’re coworkers, and that’s that. ”
Scarlett gave her a reassuring smile, but she knew it was lacking. She wished she knew more about how Marrero, but the whistle for the game blew then, and she had work to do.
Within the first five minutes, a foul was called on the Bees, resulting in a yellow card for Miles, who was back in his striker position. Not a great start, but Aban was having the game of his life right out the gate. With an assist from Templeton, Aban was able to score the first goal of the game.
“A daring play by Bees captain Mensah,” the speakers in the box boomed as the crowd erupted in cheers. “And it pays off! Goal for the Bees!”
“Woohoo!” Scarlett called out, her hands cupped around her mouth before she picked up her phone to post across the socials—and saw a text message from Mr. Wrong Number.
Glancing around quickly, as if anyone would care, she tapped her screen and opened it.
It might be corny, but I wanted to let you know that I can’t stop thinking about you today.
A tremor of satisfaction went through her as the crowd sighed.
“Come on, ref. Open your eyes,” Marrero yelled.
Scarlett tried to think of something equally sweet and charming, but then another huge cheer happened around her, and she looked up and saw number 18 on the jumbo screen, moving with excellent precision as he ducked and dodged, stealing the ball from the opposing team.
“Josh Majka is showing exactly why he was scouted at age fourteen by the Premier League, and I’ve got to say, it’s sure is something watching him play today,” one of the announcers said.
“You’re right, Ted. After a near career-ending injury, Majka was sidelined for a good year, but apparently the boy’s recovered, because this footwork is impressive.”
Scarlett beamed, happy to hear the announcers say such things about Josh. She was surprised herself to see him on the field, considering what he had told her about Theo’s feelings, but evidently that was water under the bridge now.
After tapping out a text to Mr. Wrong Number, she exited the messages app and began posting stories, reels, and more on socials in an effort to catch the game play by play. And not a moment too soon, as she was seeing Bees trending under sports.
The next eighty-five minutes were some of the best that Scarlett had ever seen. The Bees were on fire. Passing, dribbling, stopping goal attempts, and making their own. It wasn’t surprising when they won 3–1, and the stadium exploded in joyous shouting and chanting B-E-E-S.
The Bees were starting to give their fans, not to mention everyone in the owner’s box, something to believe in.
For the first time since being hired, Scarlett saw a real earnestness in Chard.
Before, his attitude had been laissez-faire at best. He was indifferent to their wins and losses, and Scarlett had always pegged him as a bored millionaire type who had simply tired of his latest purchase, but there seemed to be something different about him today.
Today, he had been engaged, following the game intently, without eating or drinking anything, despite several attempts made by the servers.
Scarlett grinned widely at him after the game was called. He approached her, followed by his brother. Jaffi didn’t seem nearly as excited as Chard.
“A bloody brilliant game, wasn’t it!” Chard said, overjoyed. “Fantastic shots by Aban and that Majka fellow. I’m glad Ross is finally utilizing that young man.”
“It was a great game,” Scarlett said, twisting around to face Jaffi. “What was your favorite part?”
“The ending,” he said grimly. “Winning is usually my favorite part.”
“Oh, yes, right, I meant… I mean, the second time Weeks saved that goal—”
“Yes!” Chard agreed enthusiastically. “What a catch. I was certain it was going in.”
“Right? And how about Templeton’s assist?”
“Aban’s first goal?”
“Wilkens’s second?”
“Chard, your love for this game never fails to impress me,” Jaffi interjected, but his tone said otherwise. “And I hate to break up this little recap party, but we have to be going. London is calling.”
“Again?” Chard said, a little wind taken out of his sails. But then he exhaled. “Yes, well, business calls, Simmons. If you’ll excuse us…?”
“Goodbye, sir,” she said, waving at Jaffi as he followed his brother out.
“He’s got no love for the game,” Marrero said next to Scarlett, causing her to jump slightly. “I don’t even know why he shows up around here, except to rain on his brother’s parade.”
“Well, Chard can be a little spacey. I’m sure Jaffi is trying to keep his brother focused. And football isn’t for everyone,” Scarlett replied. Marrero gave her a look before they both chuckled. “Come on.”
They left the owner’s box nearly twenty minutes after the end of the game to allow some of the congestion of the crowd to disperse.
After reaching the ground floor of the stadium, Marrero went off to her office to grab something she had left on her desk, while Scarlett made her way out into the parking lot, where she was lucky enough to run into Aban and Weeks, who were signing autographs for fans.
“Hey, guys,” she said with a wave. “Great game today.”
“Thanks, Simmons!” Weeks said as Aban excused himself from the crowd to run and talk to her.
“You played amazingly today,” she told him.
“Thank you. Listen, we’re going out again tonight—women’s team too. You should come this time.”
He waved to a few people behind her, and Scarlett spun around.
A group of smiling young men were whooping and whipping scarves over their heads, but she saw through the crowd.
Theo was exiting the stadium. Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he hunched his bag strap over his shoulder as he spotted Scarlett.
He stopped upon seeing her and dipped his chin once before continuing toward his car.
“Yeah,” she said, watching Theo leave. “Maybe I will.”
At eight p.m., Scarlett entered the private party room of La Strega, the site of her date with Josh. Thankfully, the team wasn’t too distracted by her entrance, and she was quick to walk to the bar at the exact same time the players began to chant.
“B–E–E–S, BEES, BEES, BEES!”
“What will it be?” the bartender shouted over the voices.
“White wine, please,” she called back.
She smiled and waved at the group of men and women in their joint celebration. It was really something to see, considering how fractured the organization was a few weeks ago. But with several wins under both teams’ belts, it felt like they were unstoppable, even with a handful of losses.