Chapter 10
10
Every time I see LeMar, he’s full of how well pre-season’s going. A happy striker ought to equal a happy attacking midfielder, so I shouldn’t be worrying about Tony. But our first match is Saturday, and Roudie’s still getting walked and Tony’s still popping into the office for plenty of after-training chats. It’s nagging away at the back of my mind that if Tony really had settled here, he wouldn’t need us any more. So, I shouldn’t be pleased when, at two o’clock on a Friday, Tony’s head appears around the office door. That I’m not just pleased, I’m delighted, should probably raise a whole other set of concerns. But we’ll worry about that when he’s gone.
He takes a quick look around the office. ‘Just you again?’
‘Not for long. Katia’s saying goodbye to LeMar before he goes into pre-game mode.’
‘What ’bout Sky?’
Ah, so that’s the explanation for the ongoing office visits. Skylar’s gorgeous, as you’d expect for a twenty-year-old who spends half her life working out. I suppose I should be happy that it’s not because Tony’s still feeling lonely. And there definitely shouldn’t be a snippy ring to, ‘Kicking a ball around somewhere, I suspect.’
Tony raises his eyebrows. ‘Can’t help noticing that’s a bit of a theme. Does that mean you’re run off your feet?’
I’m actually busy indulging my paranoia that I’m going to screw up booking hotel dates for our Champion’s League opening-round games. I can’t afford to get this wrong: qualifying to play in Europe was unimaginable even a couple of seasons ago. But I have to admit, the players aren’t the only ones feeling the pressure. Having double- and triple-checked the dates against the UEFA website, I’ve almost got up the courage to click confirm. Only it can’t hurt to let myself soak in a few minutes of Tony first. ‘Not if you need something.’
He lounges in, not bothering to close the door, and slouches against Katia’s desk. ‘This is a quick one. What’s this thing on my calendar for Sunday night?’
He holds out his phone. It’s the sponsors’ drinks evening, the least popular fixture on the players’ timetable. Given how much complaining it triggers, I’m not surprised Monica’s PA has slipped it onto the calendar without any explanation. I pull a sympathetic face. ‘Sorry, it’s the price of coming to a club that’s not owned by a sheikh or an oligarch. Monica requires you all to make nice to the sponsors after the first game of the season. It’s not too bad, only a couple of hours. And it does help them feel they’re getting their money’s worth.’
Tony screws up his mouth. ‘Kind of like we’re circus animals?’
I smile. ‘More dancing bears, I think.’
He grins back. ‘Of the sore-headed variety, I take it?’
‘There’s usually a general lack of enthusiasm. But it’s better than it used to be. For years, Monica insisted on having it actually on the same day as the first home game of the season. At least now you play Saturday and do this Sunday.’
He leans against the desk, his weight on his palms, presumably stretching out tightness left over from training. ‘Well, I guess it’s an incentive to win first time out, anyhow. Better to spend the evening wallowing in a bit of praise than making excuses.’
I try to pretend I’m not fixated on his shoulders, the muscle obvious under the t-shirt. ‘I suspect that’s part of Monica’s thinking. But, anyway, it’s at her house. We can set up a car, but most of the lads prefer to drive themselves for this one.’
‘For a quick exit?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Yeah, that’s fine with me. I’m on mineral water in public, anyhow. Don’t want no one thinking this season is going to be a repeat of the last one.’
I manage to prevent myself from pointing out, given how good he looks at the end of pre-season, it obviously won’t be. Instead, I keep my voice cool, gesturing to the pile of paperwork on my desk as I ask, ‘Is there anything else you need, or should I tackle these?’
‘Just what am I supposed to wear?’
‘If you can bear it, a suit.’
He pulls a face, roughly equivalent to the kind a child asked to dress up for a wedding would pull. ‘Yeah, I would. Only suits, they makes me look like I’m going to court.’
Looking at him, that’s so obviously true, I can’t help laughing. ‘Then aim for the get-past-a-small-town-nightclub-bouncer look. Black trousers, white shirt, proper shoes. And we’re selling the lifestyle aspect, so some conspicuous wealth display wouldn’t hurt.’
‘Rolex it is then,’ he says, his eyes sardonic.
‘Sounds perfect,’ and I imagine he will look perfect, and that he’ll play the part required beautifully.
He takes a bow. ‘I aim to please. And I’m guessing it’d please you right now if I left you alone.’
I’m tempted to say nothing would please me less, but successfully hold my tongue. Tony makes for the door until the trinket on my desk catches his eye. It’s the present our ex-captain, Gary King, gave me when he retired, a Moroccan lamp, studded with red stones, which look like rubies but sadly aren’t. Tony takes it, twisting it in his hands. The gold’s perfect against his tan, which has faded a touch since he first joined us, but is still obvious against his neatly manicured nails.
He smiles, and it’s the gentle one that shows in his eyes. ‘So Genie, this is the lamp you take refuge in, is it? When you’re tired of taking care of everything?’
It’s not the first time I’ve heard this kind of quip. ‘It does cross my mind it’d be nice to hide in it, from time to time,’ I grin.
‘I bet it does. Only whoever gave it you got it wrong, didn’t they?’
I look at him questioningly.
‘The story, it’s that you pick the shiny lamp and there’s no genie. You’ve gotta go for the simple one to get what’s worth having inside. Isn’t that right?’
‘In real life, I don’t think that’s how it works.’ I break his gaze, which has got very serious. I’m not sure what game we’re playing. ‘Not in this business, anyway.’
‘I dunno, maybe we’re the ones that should be paying more attention to that kind of stuff than most.’ He shrugs and then he’s back to smiling, even the start of a grin now. ‘You’ll be at this thing Sunday anyhow, won’t you?’
‘Uh-huh. We’ll be helping out the hospitality team.’
His grin widens. ‘And you’ll be at the match Saturday?’
‘Yep, doing the friends and family stuff.’
He’s at full grin now. ‘That’s all right then. No need for me to be worrying about the lamp working for wishes.’
‘That’s a truly terrible line,’ I splutter, laughing. Underneath my pretend frown, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that he was evidently building up to that all along.
He tilts his head and the smile becomes lopsided. ‘Yeah, it weren’t my smoothest.’ He laughs, his eyes squinting like a happy Staffie. ‘Never mind, sounds like there’ll be plenty of chances to get some improvement in, the next few days.’
‘Get out and let me do some actual work.’ I throw my pen at him, which annoyingly he catches one-handed as he leans over and replaces the lamp on my desk.
He strolls to the door. ‘Well, it’s nice to know you don’t count helping me out as work. See you Sunday.’ I’ve got a nasty feeling I’m grinning like a love-sick teenager when he reappears. ‘Unless you fancy coming over tonight?’ A mischievous look enters his eyes at this point. ‘Cos I could do with working off a bit of pre-game tension, if you knows what I mean?’
‘I believe true professionals channel it into match performance,’ I say tartly, enjoying the joke, but still trying not to go pink.
He shrugs with a cheeky grin. ‘Never found that works for me, but I’ll give it a go.’
He wanders away and I decide doing anything that requires serious focus would be a mistake. So, instead of finalizing hotel bookings, I get up to check with Natalie in Hospitality exactly what we need to do for Sunday. And it seems Tony chose the busiest time possible to have that recent conversation with the office door wide open. As I walk out, Natalie’s at the photocopier, the medical and physio team– including to my horror my ex, Gavin, on his way to the medics’ meeting– are turning the corner to the conference room, and Skylar and Katia are emerging from the supply closet, giggling.
Skylar, who’s got the world’s second most carrying voice after Tony, says, ‘We thought we wouldn’t interrupt. But like you’re always saying, he’s obviously not the slightest bit keen.’
Hmm, I guess everyone heard Tony’s parting joke. Including Gavin. It shouldn’t matter. It must’ve been obvious we were only playing around. No one could possibly think I’m under the impression Tony’s serious. All the same, I feel hot and shivery at the same time, just like I used to when I’d go to take Gavin’s hand and he’d yank it away.