CHAPTER 5
“Sasha!” I heard in the distance. “Sasha.” A weak, almost gargled or strangled tone. “Sasha.”
My eyes opened in the living room.
“Sasha, help me.”
What the fuck?
“I'm in the bedroom.”
I was still in my emerald green dress.
“I can't move.”
I stretched before I stood, then headed for the stairs.
“Sasha-”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I hear you, I'm coming.” I really wasn't a morning person after a bottle of wine to myself the night before.
Joe groaned from the bedroom.
I pushed open the double doors and halted.
He looked dreadful, covered in sweat and with all of the duvet wrapped around him. “I think I'm dying,” he said.
“It's probably man flu, Joe.”
He swiped his forehead, throwing moisture onto the pillow.
“Drink water,” I insisted. “You've a pint glass on your side of the bed... And maybe you should take a test.”
“A test?” He looked horrified. “What kind of a test?”
I pointed to the bedside drawers on his side. “There's covid tests in there.”
“Covid? Is that still a thing?”
“Yes.” I walked back out of the bedroom. “Call my mobile when you get a result.”
“Where are you going?”
Anywhere away from him. And certainly nowhere near him until his test returned a negative result.
“Don't leave me, Sasha-”
“I'll be downstairs.”
I finished my first coffee of the morning in the kitchen.
My mobile rang.
“Yes?” I said.
“It's fucking positive,” he croaked.
I jumped to my feet and headed out to the hall. “You'll have to stay at home until you get better, Joe.”
“I know.”
“I'll call Kyle and tell him to take charge of the team against Elgin City tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” He sounded so weak.
I slipped into my high-heels, slung the strap of my purse over my shoulder and grabbed the car keys.
“Wait, are you going out? You can't, Sasha.”
“I have to, Joe.”
“But you probably have it too.”
“I did a test downstairs,” I lied. “It was negative.”
“No, you should stay.”
I opened the front door and walked through.
“Sasha, we should quarantine together.”
“No, Joe.” I tapped the key to unlock the car. “I've too much work to do.”
“You can't go to the ground, Sasha. It could be in your system and just not have shown up yet.”
“I'm not going to the ground.” I slid my ass onto the driver's seat. “I'll work remotely.”
“You can do that here.”
“No.”
“Baby, I need you.”
“Joe, you'll be fine. If I stay with you, I'll end up catching it. It's not happening.”
He started to bang on the bedroom window.
“You made it onto your feet okay,” I said, starting the engine. “That's good.”
“Sasha, I order you to get back in here right now.”
“You can't be that bad.” I switched my mobile to speaker phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat.
“What's really going on here, Sasha?”
“Nothing.” I began to pull away from the house, feeling a sense of joy for the first time since DeShaun had made me cum.
“Sasha, I'm not stupid. You've been distant since we went public. Get back home. Now!”
“I'll check into a hotel, Joe. I'll text you later.”
“Sasha!”
I ended the call, smiling as the tyres rolled over frost at the bottom of the driveway.
I lay back naked in the bath of my hotel room, letting the hot water soothe the stress out of my body.
The test I'd requested in my room upon arrival had returned a negative result.
I'd also advised Eddie to test himself, as he'd been with us the night before, and the rest of the players and staff.
Nobody had reported back anything but good news.
While Kyle sounded almost jubilant when I'd told him team duties were his responsibility until further notice.
With a guaranteed few days away from Joe, I hoped to get my head straight and figure out a way forward.
I needed to.
Joe McDonald was as cunning as he was toxic.
I genuinely had no romantic feelings left for him.
He had to go.
But it'd cost Broxburgh all the positive press that had come out of his revelation.
Was I really ready to let that go? What would it say about the chances of other cis male and trans female couples making relationships last?
I'd responsibilities beyond those of club chair.
Responsibilities which were neither forced nor sought.
But I felt the burden of them all the same.
Even if it meant temporarily living out a lie to make them last.
I heard my mobile vibrate outside the bathroom. Then again. And again.
It was Joe. I knew nobody else who'd relentlessly try to contact me. And I was adamant I was going to ignore him.
This was my time. And mine alone.
Lunch via room service had been small but delightful, although I found myself hungry again and somewhat lonely as dinner time approached.
I hadn't packed for my hotel stay, so I squeezed back into my emerald green dress, left my stockings and suspenders on the bed and headed down to the restaurant for food.
“Ms Liu,” said the concierge, nodding as I passed reception.
I entered the restaurant, and was sat by a waiter at a table for two by the window.
The atmosphere was relaxed, as gentle jazz music played in the background and a dozen or so others chatted at their tables.
The waiter returned with a jug of water, then asked if I was ready to order.
“Sorry, could I just have a couple more minutes?” I asked.
He smiled, then strode back to the entrance so seat someone else.
I was engrossed in the menu, paying little attention to what was happening around me.
“Actually, man,” started a familiar male voice, in that unforgettable accent, “could I sit somewhere else?”
I froze.
The waiter and DeShaun walked away from the table next to mine.
I watched him sit, also by himself, half the restaurant away.
The waiter returned to my table and again asked me if I was ready to order.
“Caesar salad,” I muttered. “I'll just have a starter.” I suddenly didn't feel like eating very much.
He smiled, took the menu and left.
I gazed at DeShaun, his back to me.
His shoulders were rigid, yet his legs were outstretched. It was difficult to tell if he'd been affected as strongly by seeing me as I'd been by seeing him.
Of course! This had to be where he was staying.
He glanced sideways.
I stared at that beautiful face, then felt such shame for deceiving him. I may have been planning to fire Joe and break up with him, but I hadn't. And everything that'd happened since with the media, both intrusive and invited, must've left DeShaun with nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth.
He returned his attention to his menu.
I felt at my stomach. My nerves were in a bundle. But I had to take this opportunity to talk to him. I had to. I owed him an apology, if nothing less.
He ran his hand across the back of his neck.
I knew he was uncomfortable too. I was responsible for that.
Unsure where I was finding the guts from, I suddenly slid my chair backwards, the legs scraping loudly on the tiled floor.
My eyes were down on my table, so I couldn't scrutinise DeShaun's reaction.
I started to walk across the floor, vaguely aware of the eyes of strangers on me.
I was probably recognised. Perhaps DeShaun had been too, but not necessarily.
I was the one who'd been splashed across television, the newspapers, websites and social media.
And I'd no intention of thrusting that attention onto him.
DeShaun took hold of a glass water.
My high-heels echoed on the tiles as I approached him from behind.
He hesitated, holding his water just below his mouth, as if he anticipated my nearing.
I instinctively reached out to his shoulder, then stopped myself. I'd no right to touch him. Especially not now. “DeShaun,” I said, entering his line of vision.
“Ms Liu,” he said coldly, refusing to make eye contact.
“Could I have a quick word?”
He sipped slowly at his water.
I felt so anxious as I waited for his answer.
“I'd prefer you didn't, Ms Liu.”
I exhaled. “Please.”
“You're my employer.”
“DeShaun-”
“Nothing more.” He gestured towards the kitchen. “I'm here for a quick meal, that's all.”
I nodded. I understood.
He didn't acknowledge me.
I returned to my table, holding back tears.
I'd been sat in the restaurant for around forty minutes when my mind finally migrated from thoughts of DeShaun's feelings to thoughts of his future footballing intentions.
I was his employer, for now, but in three months or less the season would be over and he'd be able to exercise his rights to sign a contract elsewhere.
I pushed more lettuce around my plate, my eyes flicking to his table every few seconds in fear of him suddenly leaving.
The waiter watched me.
I broke rank and slipped a crouton between my lips.
He looked away.
My gaze returned to the back of DeShaun's head. He was devouring a burger.
A middled-aged couple just a few tables away caught my attention, as I realised they were conversing in Thai.
I was pretty sure they'd been there since I'd sat down, and I hadn't picked up on that before. Was my mind really that preoccupied with DeShaun?
Did a bear shit in the woods?
I twisted my fork around some parmesan cheese, then felt sorry for it and stabbed it with a chunk of lettuce before tipping them both between my teeth.
My stomach grumbled, as if somehow aware of the visual teasing my eyes were doing with the plate.
I swallowed, hoping to dissuade an uprising of bile.
DeShaun was halfway across the floor, pulling his card from his pocket.
I dropped my knife and fork beside my plate, dabbed around my mouth with my serviette, then shoved my chairs backwards and started to make my own way across to pay.
DeShaun was already tapping his card, using contactless.
My cards were buried somewhere under my make-up in my purse. They'd take too long to find.
He swiftly exited the restaurant into the reception area.
I approached the waiter to pay, panicking at how I was losing sight of DeShaun.
The waiter passed me my bill.
I didn't care for the cost. “Can you add it to my room?”
“Of course, what number are you staying in?”
“Three-zero-one,” I said, and hurried out on my high-heels in pursuit.