I scoffed, raising a hand to flag down the waitress. If I was doing this, I was going to do it with coffee and those fucking hash browns.
Tony leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, hands clasped together.
‘I asked your brother to get you here because there are fundamental things we need to discuss that can’t be ignored any longer.’ Tony had a clipped, posh accent that caused him to over enunciate his consonants and made every word he spoke sound obnoxious. Especially against our northern twang. George’s accent was stronger than mine because he ‘refused to sound like one of those banker wankers’.Whereas mine had been smoothed out over years of playing for clubs in different parts of the world since I was fourteen.
‘Pretty sure everything got cleared up,’ I said, refusing to look at him. A young girl wearing an apron wrapped around her waist came over. As she scribbled down our orders, her brow furrowed, shooting me furtive glances every so often. I turned my face away, hoping she wouldn’t recognise me fully. She left, glancing back over her shoulder, no closer to placing me.
‘Simply because the legal matter has been squared away, it does not mean everything is suddenlyokay,’ Tony cut in, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and fixing me with a stern gaze.
My jaw clenched.No shit.Everything was far from okay. The rug had been snatched from under me; everything I thought I knew had turned out to be a lie. Nothing wasokay.
George leaned closer, his shoulder bumping mine—a non-verbal reminder to keep my head.
‘If you ever want a career in football again, we need to go on record-’
‘I’m not doing that shit.’ I cut him off before he could continue whatever pathetic sob story he made up. ‘The media are vultures. I’m not giving them yet more gossip to pass around like it’s a fucking soap opera.’
Tony flashed me a tight smile. ‘Nevertheless, we need to do something about your public image. The longer we leave it, the worse it will get. I’ve got interviews lined up with reputable stations so you can tell your side of the story-‘
Tony continued to talk, all the words going over my head.
The waitress returned with a plate of golden hash browns and two fried eggs with avocado. She placed it down in front of me. I nodded curtly. Another dish landed in front of George with a huge bacon and egg roll, the yolk spilling out between the bread. He gave her a smirk.Flirty bastard.
She tottered off and came back with a tray of coffees, lingering when she placed mine down last.
‘Will that be all?’ she asked, putting the tray under her arm.
George nodded and shot her his famous wink that I had seen first-hand cause women and men to fawn hopelessly over him. ’Thanks, sweetheart.’
Her cheeks turned pink under his unrelenting gaze. Shooting one last confused look my way; she sashayed away.
Tony pulled out his phone and started to tap furiously on it. ‘So, I’ll book your first appearance for This Morning. Get off on the right foot.’
I poked the egg yolk and watched it spread deliciously across the hash browns.
‘No.’ I shovelled a large forkful into my mouth, groaning at the shamefully decadent taste.
Tony looked up, an incredulous expression plastered across his face. ‘Excuse me?’
‘’Ere we go,’ George muttered, taking an inelegant bite out of his roll.
‘Not doing it,’ I said around a slurp of coffee.
Tony put his phone down carefully, and in a tone one might use for a toddler having a tantrum, he said, ‘You can’t say no. You violated the terms of your contract, so the club decides how to recover the money they lost when you-‘
I raised my eyebrows.
Tony glanced around, coming to his senses about mentioning anything of note in a public space. ‘-did what you did. You don’t get a choice in this. If you want to work again, which I’m guessing you do, you have to make nice with both the press and the public.’
The grip on my knife and fork tightened. ‘No TV appearances,’ I said.
I didn’t need the British public crucifying me.
Tony heaved a long-suffering sigh. ‘Fine. I’ll arrange a few radio and print ones. We’ll work up to TV.’ He picked up his mug of coffee, sniffed it, and wrinkled his nose before putting it back down.
‘I think that’s enough to be getting on with. From now on, answer your emails and phone.’ He pushed his chair back as he stood. ‘Thank you for organising this.’ He jutted his head to George, who raised his mug of coffee in the air.
‘Thank you for bombarding me with over a hundred texts and calls until I agreed,’ he said in a light-hearted voice.
