7. Noah
CHAPTER SEVEN
NOAH
RECOMMENDED LISTENING ‘LOSE YOURSELF’ BY EMINEM
Practice is brutal, cutthroat, with each of us trying our level best to make an impression on the men in the ten-thousand-dollar suits. Suits they earned by being the best athlete, sportsperson, cricket player for their team and country.
I hydrate and run laps and drills with my new team. I walk around the pitch and stamp it flat for the next practice game. I keep my head down and my mouth shut, ignoring the pain in my head not even Tylenol could kill.
We work for almost eight hours straight, with a brief break for lunch. Switching teams and partners, working with the support coaches who also carry around the dreaded clipboards and whistles.
I collapse on the field after the final whistle blasts, staring up at the sky. My legs are jelly, thigh muscles straining from the effort of squatting around the pitch and outfield. But I’m happy.
In the one place I’ve always belonged. My home. I clench fistfuls of grass and breathe in the smell of manly sweat, testosterone, and stamped grass. It’s intoxicating.
A face swings into view for me. I frown as I try to figure out who it is.
“Noah, right? Dumaine?” A posh Brit player peers at me. I’ve gone to high school with a couple of these blokes. They are all teeth and no bite.
“Yeah. That’s me.” I sit up slowly and stretch out the kinks in my neck.
“Uhm…” The player squats next to me. “I don’t know how to say this but…here…see for yourself.”
He shoves his Motorola flip phone in my face and presses play on a video.
The picture becomes clearer as the grainy video pushes closer to the people in the shot.
It’s me. Naked and on the beach front, next to the clunker of a car Queenie Madhavan drives. The blanket barely covers my jiggly bits. My hair’s wild and sticking in all directions. And right next to me, wide-eyed and hair in a cloud of curls, is her . She’s got the blanket shoved under her armpits but, even from a distance, I can see the golden, sun-kissed curves under it.
It looks bad. Whatever is happening between us looks bad. Really bad. Like getting-kicked-off-camp bad.
I can’t hear what the two of us are saying, but I remember her words clear enough. Even after half a day has passed and I’ve scrubbed my mind clean off her.
This never happened. I can’t afford another scandal.
The video changes cameras and points the other way now. A plasticky, green-eyed blonde blow a kiss to the camera. “What do we have here, Barrons Bay? A secret couple on a beach date? Who could it be? Let’s find out, shall we?” She blows another kiss to the camera, then turns it the other way round.
My stomach tightens with nerves. Oh god. Oh god !
Queenie’s expression, of utter distaste, is imprinted in the backs of my eyes. And immortalized on video.
This is horrible. Like having a bomb dropped on a small city and watching it go up in smoke.
“Who sent you this? Who’s this chick?” I grab the screen and play it again.
“It’s Veronica Washington… my girlfriend. I’m Teddy Durham.” The posh player holds his hand out.
I give it a brisk shake, my mind already racing ahead. Already thinking of possible outcomes. Liking none of them. “Who else has seen this video, Teddy?”
Teddy has the grace to look ashamed. “Veronica’s really popular, she’s the town princess. And she doesn’t like the girl in the video…Queenie? Like, really doesn’t like her. I don’t know who she wants to send it to.” Teddy takes his phone back and gives me a squeeze. “I’m sorry, man. I just thought you should know.”
The video plays again on a loop.
Oh fuck ! What am I going to do?
“Dumaine, get up,” Padric barks at me. “Why’s your phone out, Durham?” He grabs Teddy Durham’s phone from him and checks it out. His eyes narrow when he sees the video.
“Sir?” My mouth is dry, my nerves are a livewire. “Sir, I—” I’m blank. I don’t know what to say.
Paddy gives me a grim look as he jogs to the coaches and shows them the video.
In sickening concert, all three coaches start walking toward me.
I have no defense. I have no excuse.
I am going to be chucked out of camp before it begins.
Fox begins to run toward me. Ares does too. But the three men of the apocalypse are all I care about. And they’ve already decided my fate.
I think quickly. Run through every possible scenario. And hit upon the only one I can think of that might work. I remember the coach’s words and Queenie’s words…
Make connections. Meaningful ones.
I was in a desperate situation….
I get up and fist my hands at my sides. Face the Triskelion coaches.
“Before you say anything and kick me off camp, which you’re completely within your rights to do, I’d like to say two things,” I begin quietly, confidently. Deferentially.
They stop walking. Watch me.
Fox and Ares are panting as they reach my side. Even they are watching me. Everyone’s watching me fuck up one more time.
But I want this.
I want this more than them. For one, I am on the older end of the age group, twenty-four. For another…I need this. More than anyone else at this camp. They are all talented and skilled and the best of the best, but they are younger than me. They have less to prove because they didn’t screw up all their chances already.
Even my brothers, Fox and Ares, don’t need this like I need it. They don’t have to keep a deathbed promise like I do. I don’t know anything else but playing the game. I don’t even have a fucking college degree.
I only have this one thing. This one shot at making the Australian men’s squad and I am fucking determined to do what I can to keep it. Even more than the mad and hurt I feel at the screaming virago abandoning me this morning.
I talk fast, breathlessly.
“This is an embarrassing thing to happen to anyone. Especially her. Her name’s Queenie Madhavan and she’s just…” I grit my jaw and spit the bitter words out. “So very special. And I don’t know how to explain what happened except…” I swallow for effect. “It did.”
“What’s the second thing you’d like to say, Dumaine?” Rohit Devgan asks quietly. Dangerously quietly. “And I’d like it to be the reason why my goddaughter is moving away from you like you’re going to murder her while you’re both…unclothed.” He says the last word, pained.
What in the--?
My eyes widen although I keep the curse inside. Out of all the girls in this godforsaken beach town, how did I end up on a porno video with the coach’s goddaughter?
“No shenanigans, Dumaine. The instructions were clear as day.”
“The instructions began today, sir,” Ares defends me stoutly. The fool. “At the meeting.”
Padric turns to him to blast him publicly.
I know what’s at stake here. Everything.
I didn’t make the cut for the National Selection committee last year. And my time in the local T20 leagues was, in a word, disastrous.
Catastrophe does not begin to describe my tenure as a professional cricket player. And the main reason why I have not attended a day of college – I captained the under-19 world cup, when I was seventeen, even before I finished high school. I haven’t stepped foot in an academic institution since then. Not even to collect my high school diploma.
“Sir, what Ares is trying to say is we didn’t know we were being filmed…and this is in very poor taste, either way. But.” I look at Fox and telegraph my need urgently to him, sweat dripping down my forehead to my eyes.
He nods, a tiny affirmation.
I deliver the master stroke with a straight face looking at Rohit Devgan’s rock-like face and blazing eyes. “What you’re seeing is a very private moment between me and my girl, sir. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“You and Queenie are dating?” Rohit demands, hands on hips.
“Not just dating , sir,” I emphasize, gruffly. “She’s my girl and I’m sorry if it goes against the rules of the camp.” I hang my head in contrition.
The coaches look at each other. But they aren’t immediately asking me to leave.
So, I know this is the right move. A good captain makes up strategies on the fly to deal with a problematic player. And I used to be a damn good captain before I fucked it all up.
“Will Queenie confirm this when I talk to her? And you best believe I will be talking to her right fucking now,” Rohit barks.
I nod enthusiastically and push my sweaty hair off my forehead. “Of course, sir. It’s all true sir.” I push my palm up in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
“Shower and get changed.” Rohit looks me up and down. “We’ll get to the bottom of this right away.”
“Five minutes, sir. Just give me five minutes.”
I practically blitz past the crowd in my eagerness to exit the field. I’ve been waiting for this chance for the longest time. This isn’t just a training camp for me. It is the highway to my success. And I’ll be damned if anyone fucks with it.
Anyone.