We entered a large dining room full of people. At least forty. There were wait staff bustling around bringing drinks, laying food on the table. Couches lined the wall and several people were lounging, drinking beers. It was a raucous affair. Lots of laughter. Lots of booze.
“There’s the man himself!” Alan yelled as soon as we entered. All eyes were on us in an instant. Being with Lucas had forced me to slowly get used to being the center of attention, but the instant cease in conversation was unnerving.
I recognized a lot of the men as Chester players. Some of which I had seen in the locker room after the first game I had attended. There were also a lot of scantily clad women. I might as well be dressed in a snowsuit.
Several of the guys approached us immediately. I noted that the women hung back, eyeing me in an openly disapproving way. What was their problem? They didn’t even know me.
“Everyone, this is Morgan, Lucas’friend,” Marla announced to the room. No one missed the emphasis she put on the word ‘friend.’
Alan gave me a hug. “It’s great to see you, Morgan.”
“You too, Alan,” I said sincerely. I liked Alan. He was loud and crude and completely over the top at times, but he was a good person. And I was pretty sure he was in love with Lucas’ sister. He had no idea I had seen him with Anna all those weeks ago. Nothing was ever mentioned to Lucas about their obvious relationship. They continued to banter and act, for all intents and purposes, normal. But I saw the way Alan looked at Anna. How his eyes followed her every movement. Though I wasn’t so sure she felt the same way. She was almost dismissive of him and I could see how much it hurt Alan’s feelings, no matter how he tried to hide it.
“Morgan, I’m so glad you could make it. I’ve been after Bradley to bring you by for weeks now. I’m Craig Denham. I believe you already met my wife Marla.” The tall man with an easy, friendly smile, and beautiful hazel eyes kissed my cheek in that European way that I was never quite sure how to reciprocate.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“What can I get you to drink?” Craig asked.
“A glass of wine would be great,” I told him. Maybe alcohol would take away my nerves.
Craig went to get me my drink and I was surrounded by a group of Lucas’ teammates.
“I can see why Lucas has been keeping you hidden away,” said a man with a dazzling smile and a face almost too lovely to look. He was invading my personal space a bit so I took a step back. He leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’m Nolan Dubois. I’m sure Lucas has warned you about me already.”
Lucas’s hand tightened in mine. “Why would I warn her? You’re not really worth talking about, Frenchie.” His smile was more a bearing of teeth. It was obvious there was no love lost between the two.
Nolan’s eyes turned frosty. “You’re full of compliments as always. So have you made a decision about Liverpool yet? I hear they’ve sweetened the pot.” Lucas was cutting off the circulation to my fingers in his effort to rein in his temper.
“And where did you get your information?” Lucas asked, sounding blasé and unaffected by Nolan’s obvious dig. If it weren’t for my numb fingers I wouldn’t have known he was bothered at all.
“Around. It’s amazing the things you hear and see when you pay attention.” I thought the Frenchman flicked his gaze to Marla Denham, but I couldn’t be entirely sure.
“Lucas, introduce me already,” a man with a strong Irish accent cut in.
“I hope we can talk again soon, Morgan,” Nolan said close to my ear. What was this guy playing at?
“You can go away now, Frenchie,” Lucas warned, watching as his teammate walked away. Then he turned back to a man with red hair and freckles all over his face. “Shane, this is Morgan, Morgan this is Shane Given, a right twat.”
It seemed insulting each other was a form of affection among the Chester team. Every guy I met was introduced as a knob or a tosser or a wanker.
I met Claudio Pacetti, the goalkeeper whose autograph Phil had wanted me to get. I met Finn Skov, the Danish right back who was almost five years older than most of the guys on the team. He was at the end of his career and was apparently enjoying resurgence under their new manager. Finn, in his heavily accented English, told me all about how he played for Denmark in the World Cup and had scored three goals. Lucas rescued me after twenty minutes.
I met Rhys Hughes and Bruno—no last name— both were friendly and warm and made me laugh with stories about Lucas’ mishaps on the pitch.
There was Nick Dodd and Stefan Maes who were a bit more reserved but clearly looked up to Lucas. He was the undisputed leader of the squad. And he it was obvious he deserved their admiration. Apart from Nolan, who was a bit of a sleaze, he treated everyone the same—with total respect.
Then there were the women. Not one approached me the entire time. I was seated next to Fiona at dinner. I remembered she was engaged to George Fletcher. After saying a chilly hello, she never spoke to me again. And that was the way with all of the females in the room.
It seemed Marla had passed judgment on me and they all followed suit. Because for some reason it was obvious Mrs. Denham hated me.
And I had a damn good idea why.
“Lucas, can you come here for a minute and help me get some more wine glasses from the kitchen?” Marla asked after our plates had been cleared for dessert.
“Can’t one of your staff do that?” Lucas asked.
“Give her a hand, mate,” Craig said. “She says I’m too clumsy with the glassware.”
