What? What are you gonna do?
Nothing. I would do nothing because it wasn’t mybusiness. She was working for me. Or ratherwithme, as she’d insisted. There was no need for things to get… personal, at least on her side. I’d have no choice though. If we were going to write a book about my career, I would be splitting myself open for people to rummage around in, pulling out all the salacious stories.
I inwardly cringed at the idea. Being famous was never a part of my plan. As a kid, I didn’t go to bed dreaming of flashing lights and piles of money. I dreamt of the Premier League. Playing for England. Of being on the pitch with my teammates, scoring the goals that would take the club to the top of the league tables. That’s why Ihadto do this book.
This was about getting my career back on track.
It wasn’t about a beautiful woman who had the habit of infiltrating my life.
Definitely not.
‘Tony is floating the idea out to certain publishers, and we’ll see who’s interested.’ I tried to shrug like it was no big deal. I knew I’d missed the mark by the look on George’s face.
I started picking up my towel and water bottle. I could feel George’s nervous energy behind me. He never got nervous. He was the guy you called in a crisis because you knew it took an earthquake for him to even bat an eyelid. Standing up, I raised my eyebrows at him. He kept glancing out the window and back at me.
‘Spit it out.’
‘You gonna talk about mum?’
I froze.
‘No.’ I turned and zipped up my sports bag.
George gave a humourless laugh. ‘You’re gonna leave her out of the book about your life? How’s that gonna work?’
‘I’m gonna leave you all out of it.’ I snapped, grabbing my keys.
George sighed. ‘Let me know how that goes for you brother.’
I was at the door, my hand resting on the handle, when I closed my eyes for half a second and turned. George’s eyes were downcast, movements aggressive as he shoved all his things into a bag.
‘Do you need me to come in and help with the shop next week?’ I asked through gritted teeth.
To my surprise, George smiled. ‘No offence, but you kinda sucked at the job.’
‘It was moving shit around. You can’t suck at it,’ I said defensively.
‘And yet you managed it.’ George slung his bag over his shoulder and walked to the door where I stood. ‘You’re good, Ol. You know I’m here if you need me.’
I clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Same.’
We spilled out onto the street. The cold breeze cooled the sweat on my body as we headed for his car. We’d only made it two feet when the hurried sound of footsteps thundered behind us, followed by the dreaded sounds of camera shutters. George’s whole body tensed next to me, and he immediately put a hand on my back to shield me. Five guys were racing towards us, cameras aloft as they snapped countless pictures of us.
Then… the shouts came.
‘OLIVER. ARE YOU STILL USING?’
‘WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ASHLEY’S RECENT STATEMENT?’
Grown men stepped into our path and tried to stop us from walking, but we didn’t stop. I didn’t give them a single reaction. I let their shouts and questions go over my head. It wouldn’t make the blindest bit of difference. They were going to print what they wanted. They’d take one picture ofme looking a certain way and create an entire narrative around it.Fuck the truth.
‘Keep your fucking head down; we’re nearly at the car,’ George said into my ear.
‘WILL YOU EVER GET BACK ON THE FIELD?’
‘OLIVER. LOOK HERE.’
The camera’s flash blinded me. I held up my hand in front of my face. The sound of the car door unlocking and George shoving me towards the passenger side was the only reason I got there without breaking my neck.
