CHAPTER 21
I studied the lines on his face with the same curiosity as when we'd first met.
I remembered the initial impression they'd made upon me and how I'd always found signs of ageing in a man so very attractive.
I almost smiled as I recalled the first time he'd touched me. Memory lane could be so subjective.
He finished reading the document.
“You must be happy with that,” I said. “It's a good deal for you.”
He removed his glasses. “And for you, Sasha.”
I wasn't going to lie to him. “You know me as well as anyone, so what do you say? Will you sign it? Let's put all this business to rest and move on.”
He drummed his fingers on the final page.
“Well?”
He shushed me.
I ran the tip of my forefinger over the perfectly thin line of my right eyebrow – I'd gone to a beauty salon earlier that morning before meeting him – and looked around the rest of the coffee shop.
He chewed on one end of his glasses.
I stupidly thought of the times we'd cum together, so naturally, and felt shame for drawing comparisons to how DeShaun and I failed to do the same.
He cleared his throat.
“Joe, you should be happy with your new severance package. And in return all you're confined to is the withdrawal of your threat of legal action. My lawyer's read it, so's yours. You wanted to meet here. So what's the hold-up?”
“And you agree not to proceed with any legal action against me over your house?” he asked.
When he'd smashed up my house. “Yes,” I said calmly. “It's there in black and white.” I pointed to my signature already penned. “Just add yours next to it.”
He snatched the pen, then hesitated just as the tip hit the paper.
“What now?”
He looked across the table at me. “Did you ever love me, Sasha?”
I let out a loud exhalation. “Joe, we're not doing this.”
“Just answer the question. It's one simple question. Answer it honestly, and I'll sign the papers.”
I gazed back at him, knowing full well it was a test. “Did I ever tell you I loved you?”
“Don't answer a question with a question, Sasha, or I'll walk out right now and we can do this properly in court.”
I almost dared tell him it wouldn't be me he'd be seeing in court, that by the time his unfair dismissal case came up I'd have sold the club and his claim would be the new owners' problem.
“Yes or no, Sasha, did you ever love me?”
“Joe, it isn't a yes or no answer.”
He scowled.
“I felt love for you, yes. Of course, I did. But I wasn't ever in love with you. I was still grieving. I shouldn't have got involved with you so seriously when I was still in love with my husband.”
Joe stroked J on the page, then stopped writing. “Are you in love with him?”
“That's two questions, Joe.”
He reluctantly signed the rest of his name, then passed me the papers.
“Then I believe that formally concludes our business, and I wish you well in your future endeavours.”
Joe grunted.
I pushed my chair back as I prepared to stand. “Do you think you can save Twin Knox Town from relegation?”
“Do you think you can save Broxburgh from Drew Heseltine?” he snapped.
I slid my chair suddenly forward. “What do you know about him, Joe?”
He grinned.
“Joe, please. Tell me. I need to know.”
“I owe you nothing, Sasha.”
I fluttered my eyelashes.
“You should've come to me for advice about him first.”
How could I have?
Joe shook his head. “I still can't believe you appointed him.”
“I didn't. Kyle brought him in.”
“Kyle did?” he asked, shaking his head. “Then that's even more pathetic than I thought.”
“What do you know about him, Joe?”
“I'll tell you what I know about you, Sasha. You pride yourself on your never-ending sense of self-preservation, but-”
“The same with my football club, Joe. No one's bigger than it, not even me.”
“Yeah, you'd sell it to the highest bidder.” He grinned. “But, about your sense of self-preservation, you do so at the expense of your soul when you consistently seek pleasure in the arms of others.”
I rolled my eyes.
“If you'd come to me before, I'd have told you never to get into bed with Drew Heseltine-”
“I'm not in bed with him-”
“Oh, honey, you're chained up in bed with him now.” Joe lifted his copy of the papers, then stood from the table. “We might be done on a professional level, but on a personal level I don't see our business as done.”
I was adamant we were.
“And I'll be looking to get even with you.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “Oh my God, is it you?”
“Is what me, Sasha?”
“Are you behind Drew coming into the club?”
Joe laughed. “Oh, now you're just being paranoid.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
He shook his head and rolled up his papers. “We're done on a professional level, Ms Liu, I wish you all the best of luck in your future endeavours... You're gonna need it.”
“Joe, wait.”
He walked away from the table, then out of the coffee shop.
I watched him turn at the front door.
He glanced at me as he passed by the window I was sat at.
My legs were ever so slightly parted.
He kept walking.
“Ms Liu,” shouted the receptionist at the front desk of the ground.
“Yes?” I asked, clutching my purse in one hand and the handle of the front door in the other.
“I've a message here for you.”
I hesitated, noticing the team coach had already left for the away match later, then turned and strutted to the desk, taking the handwritten message.
“He's a journalist,” she said.
“I know who Angus Hamilton is.” I read his name, number and the simple message Please contact me, urgently.
“This isn't the only time he's contacted the desk in the last twenty-four hours, ma'am.”
I crumpled up the message. “Hang up on him if he calls again.”
“Yes, Ms Liu.”
“The man's behaviour is bordering on harassment.”
“I see, so Drew was right?”
I froze. “What?”
“Nothing, Ms Liu.”
“No, tell me what Drew said.”
“He just said to ignore him.”
I stared at her. “Tell me his exact words.”
“Er, I'm not sure, Ms Liu-”
“Try.”
“I think... I think he just said Angus was a nuisance, an enemy of the club or something, and not to bother passing on his messages.”
I nodded.
“I'm sorry, Ms Liu, for troubling you. I should've listened to Drew-”
“No!”
“No?”
I started to uncrumple the message. “If Angus tries to get in touch again, I want you to personally call me immediately, okay? Don't go to Drew. Or Kyle, for that matter. Or even Willie McGlinchey.” I took a breath. “Or anyone else.”
She paused.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma'am, only you.”
“And remember everything Drew says to you.”
She looked puzzled.
“Everything, okay?”
“Yes, Ms Liu, understood... You're the boss.”
I flattened out the creases on the paper. “You're damn right I'm the boss.”
Annan kicked off the second half at Galabank. It'd been a frustrating first half for both sides, with each team's defensive tactics cancelling out the other's.
The first chance of the second half fell to Broxburgh, as Leo Martin played DeShaun through on goal.
I felt my g-string clutch at my ass, my buttocks tightening, as he took a shot.
The 'keeper caught it at full stretch.
Kyle clapped his player in appreciation.
Drew remonstrated with him for not doing more.
Play quickly became bogged down in the middle of the pitch and before I knew it my mobile was back in my hand. I was just browsing. At first. And then I scrolled to my contacts and found Angus Hamilton's number. It matched the one the receptionist had given me.
Ricky McQuillan was beaten suddenly at the near post, the ball screeching along the mouth of the goal and wide of the far post.
I unblocked Angus' number.
Fergus Graham and Blair McKay yelled at each other. McKay double-tapped his captain's armband.
McQuillan stepped up to take the goal-kick.
Drew signalled something to him.
McQuillan beckoned his defender's back to him.
“He's gonna fucking play out from the back,” said a nearby fan.
McQuillan played the ball to McKay, who was almost caught in possession by an Annan forward, and was saved from embarrassment only when Murray Robertson came to his rescue.
“Jesus Christ, hoof it upfield!” shouted another supporter.
I had to agree.
“The kid thinks he's playing for Pep Guardiola!”
Kyle almost crossed the touchline as he screamed at McQuillan to boot the ball up the pitch.
Drew grabbed Kyle by the arm, spinning him around.
My eyes weren't on the football anymore.
Drew gesticulated to the manager.
Normally I couldn't lip read, but I knew “fuck off” when I saw it escape from Kyle's mouth.
With both hands, Drew pushed Kyle back by his shoulders.
“Holy shit!”
Kyle stumbled back onto the pitch.
“They're gonna fight!”
Kyle looked irate as he squared up to his assistant.
The substitutes jumped from the bench to pull the two apart.
Drew was pointing and shouting.
Kyle was yelling back at him.
The ref blew his whistle, and suddenly every set of eyes in the ground looked away from the touchline. He was showing a yellow card to McQuillan.
“What the fuck?”
“What happened?”
“I think it's a fucking penalty to Annan!”
I'd missed it too.
The Broxburgh players were protesting with the referee.
Kyle signalled to Alasdair McInnes, the sub goalkeeper, to warm-up.
“What's he gonna do, haul the kid off after the penalty?”
Drew mockingly clapped Kyle.
“Kyle's lost his mind!”
Kyle ignored him.
“He's out of his depth!”
Drew shook his head.
“There's your real manager there, dickhead!”
McQuillan stepped back to his line on the goal, as the last of the Broxburgh players accepted they weren't going to change the ref's mind and left the area.
Annan's centre-forward positioned the ball on the penalty spot, then started to walk backwards.
The ref blew the whistle.
The striker surged forward and struck a thumping shot at goal.
16-year-old McQuillan leapt like a tiger in the right direction and palmed it away from goal, as the away support roared.
Drew applauded him as if he was in fast forward.
“'Mon the 'Burghs!”
Kyle gave a subtle nod, appearing to change his mind about bringing on the sub goalie.
I looked at the time on my phone. We were in the dying minutes and still stuck at 0-0.
I checked the scores in the other matches.
We weren't the only team around us who were struggling, but we were the only team who absolutely needed the 3 points.
I scrolled up to League One and checked on how Twin Knox Town were doing.
I almost grinned.
Just 2 minutes of injury time was signalled by the fourth official.
“Another fucking inconsistency!”
Annan piled forward.
“It was at least two minutes for the penalty alone!”
Drew sat with the subs, staring at the back of Kyle's head, as the manager stood on the touchline looking bewildered.
I started to wonder if Drew wasn't actually the problem.
McKay cleared a shot off the line.
Drew was off the bench, his long hair blazing in the wind.
Blake Black picked up the loose ball.
Drew pointed to the pass he wanted Black to play.
Black played it.
Kyle was silent.
The ball was picked up by Rory Adams.
“DeShaun, go!” howled Drew at my man, who sprinted into the most loveliest of positions.
Adams set him through on goal with the ball, beating the offside trap.
DeShaun was one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
“Shoot!”
DeShaun shimmied right. The 'keeper dropped to his right. DeShaun nudged the ball left past him, then skipped over his legs and landed behind it to tap it into an open net.
We'd done it. Somehow, we'd done it.
Play restarted for thirty seconds or so, but when the full-time whistle was blown we'd scraped the narrowest of wins.
Drew and Kyle shook each other's hands before Drew went to the Annan Athletic manager to exchange a handshake. Kyle was already headed off the pitch.
I unlocked my mobile again, saw the full-time results around us and checked the updated league table.
We were still in 5th place, but now just 5 points behind the play-off places.
There were only 3 matches left to play and a maximum 9 points up for grabs.
Even if we kept winning, the team in front only needed two wins to leave us languishing in League Two for another year.
And if we happened to lose our next match in 7 days to Stenhousemuir, our fate would most probably be sealed.
“Home to 'Muir next week,” said a fan.
“Aye,” replied another. “Remember what happened last time we played them?”
I remembered it well.
“We lost four-nil.”