CHAPTER 12
“Yes, ma'am, the builders have been here since half seven this morning,” he said on his end of the line.
“And you can confirm to me they've broke ground on the new stand?” I asked, trying to sound like I truly knew what I was talking about.
He coughed. “Well, they're hear to demolish the old stand first.”
Fuck. “Of course, but I meant... Have they got to work?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Thanks, Willie.” My hand hovered over the button to end the call.
“Ma'am, before you go...”
Fuck. It was only Monday morning. I'd really planned to get further into the week before I gave up avoiding this.
“What the hell's happening here? Everyone has questions. Joe's gone? Kyle's taking training this morning? He's the manager now?”
Jesus. All this from the groundsman. What was I going to have to deal with when I finally faced everyone else?
“Ma'am?”
“Yes, Willie, Kyle's in charge.”
He coughed again. “The missus said to me yesterday, she said, Willie, I bet those two lovebirds have had a tiff and it'll blow over-”
“Willie, I'm not getting into this, but believe me it was very much more than a tiff. Joe's gone. For good. Both from my life and the club. He'll not be back, under any circumstances.”
“I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am, he was a good-”
I'd heard enough and hung up.
The final call for boarding was announced.
I felt freedom in anonymity throughout the flight to Faro in Portugal, the absence of intrusive behaviour upon landing, nor anything beyond innocent small talk from the driver on the 40 minute journey to Albufeira.
I didn't even feel the need to switch on my mobile until after I'd checked into the luxury apartment, sent out for alcohol, unpacked and stretched out on a sun lounger in the somewhat disappointing weather.
It didn't matter. Away from the drama in Broxburgh, I'd everything I needed right here in the Algarve.
My mobile reminded me there'd be issues to contend with both from here and upon returning in person. Everyone wanted to know why Joe McDonald had been fired so suddenly and without explanation.
While he'd stayed remarkably silent on the subject.
I knew Joe, though. He was biding his time.
Either knee-deep in a marathon booze-up, which meant erratic responses could be coming at any minute, or sending out his CV to prospective employers.
From a neutral point of view, he had a long history in the game and the chances of him walking into another manager's job were good.
A somewhat silly, naive part of me wished him well.
I slid my phone under the lounger and sipped on sangria, wondering where to dine in a couple of hours and reminding myself that the short break would fly in and both fun and relaxation were paramount on this trip.
The relaxation was for now.
The fun could come later.
Waves crashed, broke and rolled onto the sands of the beach, then retreated back out to sea only yards from the front of the restaurant as a piano version of a Taylor Swift song played softly from unseen speakers in every corner.
“Excuse me,” I said, watching my mobile light up with a call. “You understand I have to take this?”
He nodded.
“Hi, Kyle, go ahead.”
“Ma'am,” he said on the other end.
“How was your first day in charge? No drama, I hope?”
Children played on a slide next to the restaurant, in sight of their watchful parents.
Kyle sighed. “Well, there was still some media hovering about. So I started with a team talk in the dressing room before we went to the training ground. I thought it was important. The guys had questions, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“I told them straight the recent run of form under Joe hadn't been good enough.
I was careful not to make the players feel responsible.
I put the blame firmly at Joe's feet. I didn't bury the guy, he was my mentor after all.
But they needed to know this was a fresh start.
I also instructed them not to be talking to the media about it, in person or online.
I'm sure you can imagine, people are dying to know what's going on.”
“Yeah.”
“I think you were best taking a bit of time away, ma'am.”
I looked at the man across the table from me.
“You haven't heard from him, have you?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Joe,” he said.
I felt the coldness of the sea breeze on my bare shoulders. “No.”
“Hmmm.”
“Listen, Kyle, at training, how many players were there?”
“Seven.”
That was the number I'd expected. “That's good.”
“Well...”
“What is it?”
“Joe's nephew, Rab, didn't show up. He's one of our full-timers. He should've been there. He didn't answer his phone either.”
“We could be down our first choice goalkeeper, then?”
“Didn't you see that coming, ma'am?”
“I'd hoped for a little more professionalism.”
“I'll call him again later, but if he's not in tomorrow we should fine him a week's wages.”
“You're the manager, Kyle, I'll leave that one to you.”
“Thank you, ma'am. The goalkeeping coach, Lee Browne, was there today. He's aware of the situation, and says Alasdair McInnes will be ready to take over in goal if needed.”
I dismissed a waiter who offered to top up my wine. “Wait, Kyle, I thought you said seven players were there?”
“That's right.”
“McKay, Martin, Black, Williamson, Entwistle, Donaldson? That's only six, who am I missing?”
“Ricky McQuillan, ma'am, the sixteen-year-old who played a blinder in the FA Cup against Kilmarnock. You weren't aware he's been training with the first team ever since?”
“No.”
“Well, he's been improving in his work with both Browne and the youth team. We let him do both. Sean Kirk, his youth coach, thinks it's best to keep his feet grounded with his peers for the time being while he continues to get a taste of the first team.”
I gripped the stem of my wine glass. “McInnes isn't available for full-time training, no?”
“No, ma'am, so if Rab doesn't knock his bullshit on the heid, wee Ricky's going to be our sub 'keeper for the rest of the season.”
“You're thinking of dropping him because of today, Kyle?”
“No, ma'am, I need Rab. He's our best 'keeper. But I think his loyalties lie with his uncle. My gut tells me he's not coming back.”
“Fuck,” I said, inviting intrigue from my dinner guest.
“I'll have the whole team in for training tomorrow night, ma'am. We'll clear the air if we have to, and I'll get them focused on Saturday's match with Annan Athletic. And I'll have someone new to introduce them to.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I told you I'd someone in mind to be my assistant. Well, I spoke with him today. And he's ready to start tomorrow night.”
“Who is he, Kyle?”
Kyle cleared his throat. “His name's Drew Heseltine.”
“I don't know that name.”
“He's a local guy, ma'am, good footballing brain. I trust him. He's aware of the situation with Joe. He'll not let us down. He'll put the club first at all times.”
“Okay, Kyle. Well, I look forward to meeting him when I get back.”
The man opposite me smiled.
“Is that everything?”
He reached a hand across the table.
“I might have another problem, ma'am... DeShaun Wilkesboro.”
My hand met his. “What about him?” I asked.
“He didn't turn up for training either, y'know in his coaching capacity.
I assumed he was with the physio, for his fitness, but I've just got a text from Hilary to say he wasn't with her- Sorry, them.” Kyle coughed.
“He's a newcomer. I can't see why he'd have a problem with Joe going, or am I missing something?”
“I granted DeShaun compassionate leave for a few days, Kyle.” I stroked his hand. “Nothing to worry about there.”
“Oh right, ma'am, that's good. I'm counting on the big guy coming back and scoring us some important goals.”
“I'm counting on him too, Kyle.”
The waves rolled closer to the shore.
“That's everything then, ma'am, I'll let you get back to your holiday.”
“Okay, Kyle, thank you. We'll speak again tomorrow.” I hung up, then looked to my date. “You ready to come back with me to the apartment?”
He grinned from ear-to-ear. “To do what, babygirl?”
I leaned closer, over the table, and revealed more of my cleavage to him. “Do I have to say it out loud?”
He nodded confidently.
“You're so bad,” I said, then lowered my voice to a whisper. “So you can make love to me, my black Adonis.”
The Wednesday morning sun blazed through the windows onto the bed. I was laid face down, my palms flat and my legs spread, with DeShaun on top, still breathless in my ear and his hands still clasping my wrists.
“You're something else, babygirl,” he said, kissing me from my cheek to my neck.
I groaned with delight. “Oh, DeShaun, you're turning me on even more.”
My phone vibrated.
So did his.
“Turn me over and go down on me,” I pleaded. “I wanna cum too.”
My phone vibrated again.
As did DeShaun's.
“That can't be a coincidence,” he said, grunting as the last of his orgasm left his body.
I felt my sphincter tighten on him, anticipating a sudden move.
Both phones vibrated a third time.
DeShaun tried to crawl on his knees to reach them.
I grimaced as his shaft mercilessly left my body. “Fuck.”
He put a gentle hand on my back, touching my skin through the red lace of my lingerie.
I blew out air. “You really need to warn me before you do that.”
Our phones started to go crazy with notifications.
“Sorry, babygirl,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked, more reluctant to move.
His eyes searched the screen, then shot open. He looked to me.
“DeShaun, please.”
“It's Joe.”
Fuck.
“He's broken his silence.”
I walked alongside DeShaun through the old town of Albufeira, desperate to clasp his hand in mine yet fearful of the consequences.
“Lunch, babygirl?” he asked, stopping at a restaurant.
My feet were already aching in my four-inch stilettos and I felt too many eyes on my ass cheeks hanging out of my denim cut-offs.
“What, you're not hungry?”
“I am,” I started, breezing past him to the nearest table, “but just wondering if you can read all my thoughts so accurately.”
“Only the naughty ones, Sash.”
I sat down, and threw my legs out towards the sun.
DeShaun sat opposite.