CHAPTER 16
DeShaun and I collected our thoughts over the weekend. I agreed I wouldn't make any rash decisions when it came to my ownership of the club. And he agreed he'd work as hard as ever in training to show Kyle he couldn't afford to leave him out for the next match.
I tried to fish for information about how Kyle and, particularly, Drew conducted themselves in training, yet DeShaun was unable to provide anything of any significance.
And certainly nothing negative. I asked how his fellow players were treating him and, although I sensed he was hiding more about the rest of the team, he said he and Blair were getting on well again.
By the time Saturday came and DeShaun boarded the team bus for Dumbarton, I was confident another problem was about to sort itself out. He was the one player with the ability to turn a game around.
“DeShaun, what's wrong?” I said, answering. “How come you're calling me at this time? Don't tell me, Kyle didn't start you again?”
“It's fucking worse than that, Sash,” he replied. “I'm sitting in the dressing room... He left me off the bench entirely.”
I cast my sex aside and sat up suddenly, splashing water on the floor.
“All that fucking hard work to get myself fit again and he won't even give me a minute on the field.”
“What the hell's he playing at?”
“I asked him, Sasha. I didn't make a scene. I didn't act like I'm more deserving than anyone else. I just asked him why I wasn't playing.”
“And what'd he say?”
“He said he's the manager and he picks the team.”
I gripped the side of the bath. “How many other players did he bring all the way on the bus only to leave them out?”
“None, babygirl. Just me.”
I stood, and let the hot water run down my bare body. “His loyalties are still with Joe.”
“You reckon?” he said, sarcastically.
I set one foot out of the bath. “I miss you.” Then the other.
“I miss you too.”
“You coming 'round tonight?” I asked, hoping we could continue to look for that elusive twinning climax.
“What're we gonna do, Sash? It doesn't matter what I do in training, the boss man's got it in for me.”
“I don't know, DeShaun.” I grabbed a towel.
“I'm not being a cocky motherfucker, but I'm the best forward we've got and I'm sitting here doing fucking nothing. You signed me for this?”
“No, DeShaun. Listen, don't turn on me. I'm on your side!”
“I know, I know... I'm just frustrated as all hell.”
I heard him punch what I presumed to be a wall.
“I've got all this pent-up energy and nothing to do with it.”
“Save it,” I said, spying one of my bigger dildos. “I can think of plenty of ways to sap your strength later.”
“If we don't take three points today, it's on that stupid motherfucker. Dumbarton, Sasha? They're gunning for the play-offs too. It's a must-win game.”
“I know.” I wanted to tell him I'd speak to Kyle, but my gut instinct told me I shouldn't. It'd be a terrible look, especially in light of the atmosphere every time I walked into a room with Kyle and Drew in it.
“Look, Sasha, I'll call you later, okay? I'm gonna go find a spot to watch the rest of this shit show.”
“Okay, but you are coming 'round tonight?”
Nothing.
“DeShaun?”
Still nothing.
I looked at my mobile. He'd already terminated the call. I left the dildo in its spot and walked out of the bathroom.
I arrived at Lady Macbeth Park around 9am on Monday morning, still angry about DeShaun's exclusion and at the 2-2 result.
The match report blamed more goalkeeping errors from McInnes and a lack of firepower up front to take the opportunities the midfield had made.
I could take responsibility for the loss of our first-choice 'keeper, but to leave our best striker out of the team was on the manager.
And I'd had enough of languishing in the background.
Unannounced, I walked straight to Kyle's office and marched through the open door in a white blouse, black blazer and matching skirt.
He was sat at his desk, already looking at me. “Ah, ma'am,” he said. “I guess you've heard, then?”
“Heard?” I asked, stopping on my white stilettos and staring at him. “Heard what?”
“About Joe.”
I shook my head, feeling my nerve for confrontation begin to slip.
“He's got a new job.”
“Has he? Where?”
“Twin Knox Town, up in League One. They're relegation strugglers.” A scowl appeared across his face. “Only seven matches to go, though. I've my doubts whether he can save them.”
I glared at him and folded my arms. “Kyle, why is any of that your concern?”
He shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Well, Kyle, let me just say that this leads me to why I'm here.”
He wasn't flinching.
I had to ask him outright. “Are you leaving DeShaun out of the squad because of your loyalty to Joe?”
“Absolutely not, ma'am, and let me remind you that footballing decisions need to be mine and mine alone.”
I was holding my breath. I hadn't intended to. It was just happening in the moment. I finally exhaled. “Okay,” I said quietly, backing down and letting the tension begin to leave my body.
“I'm concerned about the hostile reaction DeShaun has received from the fans. It's not good for the morale of the group. And I manage an entire team, ma'am, not just one player.”
“Of course... How's he been in training?”
Kyle hesitated.
“May I interject?” said a voice behind me, having been stood unseen and silent in the corner of Kyle's office since I entered.
I was outnumbered and outflanked.
“Yes, Drew,” Kyle said.
“Perhaps we'll give him another chance on Saturday, eh?” Drew continued.
I looked between the men, speechless.
“Perhaps we will,” Kyle said.
“Maybe more than perhaps,” Drew added, his long hair untied and draping across his shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling myself fight a growing blush.
“Is that everything, ma'am?” Kyle asked.
It couldn't have been that easy, surely?
They were both staring at me.
I felt overwhelmed by the atmosphere. “Yes.” I'd such difficulty stringing together a sentence, I had to pause to clear my throat. “Yes, gentlemen.”
“Thank you, ma'am.”
I exited his office and walked down the corridor, my head lowered as if I'd just been dismissed, wondering what'd just happened.
If they truly were going to give DeShaun an opportunity, I was glad.
Yet I was also deeply concerned by how one second Kyle was insisting footballing decisions needed to be his alone and the next he was deferring to Drew.
Something wasn't right, and I needed to find someone who could dig up some information on Drew Heseltine-
“Ms Liu,” said a voice.
I stopped and turned. “Hilary, hi.”
They gestured to the physio room. “May I have a word?”
“Certainly,” I said, and followed them inside.
Hilary shut the door and took a deep breath.
“Oh my God, has something happened to DeShaun?”
They shook their head. “Ms Liu, I don't want to make a big issue about it, but, well, you know I'm non-binary.”
I smiled. “Of course, and I'm extremely proud to have you as a member of our team.”
“Well, Kyle Guernsey consistently refers to me as she and her despite the fact I politely remind him I prefer they and them pronouns.”
“Hilary, I'm so sorry. I'll speak to him, I promise... Has he always been like this?”
“Well, like most people, he made honest mistakes in the past. Forgetfulness more than anything. He'd apologise and try to remember, but since he's been manager it's like he feels he's a licence to say what he wants.”
“I assure you he doesn't, Hilary. I'll deal with this.” I was about to turn to leave. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Actually... Yes.”
“What is it?”
They handed me a letter.
I looked at it for a second.
“It's my resignation.”
“Your resignation? Hilary, no. Please, I won't accept it. Because of Kyle?”
“No, Ms Liu, because of you.”
I was stunned. “What... What have I done to offend you?”
“I'll be frank, Ms Liu. I always enjoyed working here when Joe McDonald was the manager. I was delighted when he announced you two were an item. It made me truly feel this was a working environment where someone like me belonged.”
“It is.”
“And then it came out that you were having an affair. I don't like holding personal grudges, Ms Liu. I've tried not to, but honestly I don't belong here.”
“Hilary, I'm sorry. Are you sure you won't reconsider?”
“No, my decision's been made. I've already got a new job to go to next season.”
I stared at them, wondering if this new job was with a certain League One outfit currently fighting relegation.
“I'm willing to stay here until the end of the season. I still love Broxburgh and, on a professional level, I've been happy working for you, Ms Liu.”
“Just not anymore?”
“No. And I won't apologise for that.”
“I wouldn't ask you to, Hilary.” I ran a fingernail across the edge of the letter. “Hilary, there isn't anything else, is there?”
They hesitated, then shook their head.
“You're sure? Drew Heseltine hasn't said or done anything I should know about?”
“No, Ms Liu.”
“You're certain?”
“Ms Liu, I'm not lying.”
I folded the letter. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”
“It's okay, honestly. I'd just prefer to move on with my career.”
“Understood,” I said, and headed for the door. “For the record, Hilary, what Joe and I had wasn't what he told the public.”
“Ms Liu, this really isn't any of my busi-”
“I fell in love with DeShaun.”
They looked at me awkwardly.
“It wasn't an affair.”
Hilary pursed their lips
“Big difference, Hilary.”
In thundering rain, I decided to stop for milk on my way home on Friday afternoon. I pulled up several spaces from a shop, the closest I could, grabbed cash from my purse and made a run for it.
I was already drenched by the time I got through the door, dripping water from my bare legs onto the shop floor.
A male worker behind the counter gave me a knowing glance.
I shivered as I retrieved a litre of milk from the fridge. Another look outside, where the downfall only seemed to be intensifying, inspired me to take my time, browsing the magazines with little intention to buy.
The shop door opened again and another rain-soaked individual entered.
I lowered my head immediately, recognising him as the local reporter Angus Hamilton who'd interviewed Joe recently. I waited to see which aisle he was headed to first, then hurried to the counter and paid for the milk, forgetting to collect my change.
I headed back out into the thunderstorm.
“Cunt!” yelled a stranger into my face.
I was instantly shook, as rage contorted his face.
“The way you strut about, dressed like a whore in your tiny outfits, disgusts me!”
I winced, watching as he balled his right hand into a fist.
“Get the hell out of Broxburgh FC!”
I slammed my eyes shut, bracing myself for a punch.
It never came.
I dared peel back my eyelids in the pouring rain and saw he was gone.
Thunder rolled.
I could feel my make-up running down my face, yet still I was frozen to the spot.
I was terrified.
I'd never felt so vulnerable before, and so publicly too.
The shop door opened, my feet sprung into life and I rushed back to my car, slamming the door shut and locking both doors.
A complete stranger had just abused me in the street and we had a match I wasn't welcome at in less than 24 hours.
I had to seriously ask myself again if any of this was worth it.