Rhys laughed. “You don’t have an answer to give. You’re doing it. End of. And I think it’s a great idea.”
“Because you’ll have something to take the piss out of me about for the next five years.”
“I’ve already got plenty of things to take the piss out of, Ro. This is just extra.”
He helped himself to coffee from the machine in my kitchen that I’d never learned to work. Rhys was an expert at using it. Adding the beans, knowing which setting to use for the perfect coffee, and just the right amount, so he could squeeze his milk in. Precision. Very Rhys.
“I’m not doing it. Anything – I can do the kids football school by myself, and the hospital stuff. Jones doesn’t need to be involved.” I swore this was a punishment.
Rhys sat down at the table that came with the house. Since I’d transferred to Athletic, I’d been living in one of the properties the club owned, renting it off them while I found my own place. My contract was five years, with various options to extend, so buying somewhere was at the top of my to do list and probably something I should be doing this week before pre-season started.
I was about to get a new housemate too. Ryan O’Connell had signed for us last week from Arsenal, and I’d been told he was moving in here since security and all that shit was at its best.
I’d played against him plenty of times but didn’t know him. We’d both been capped by England, but never in the same squad. With the World Cup next summer, we’d both be looking to be involved, so playing together at club level would hopefully boost us both.
Rhys had been my agent since I was twenty-one, and my previous one had tried shafting me with a contract that even a nursery kid would’ve known was corrupt. Rhys had been twenty-three and an apprentice agent. I’d been his first big name. But unlike the first guy, he had more than money as his motivation – he’d spent more time growing up at my house than his own.
Right now, Rhys was far too fucking amused for his own good.
“It’s one week coaching kids, which you’re good at. You never know, you might actually get along this time.” He sniggered, reminding me of the fourteen-year-old version of him who caught me kissing a girl round the back of the garages.
“Dee Jones hates me.” I took a mouthful of the protein smoothie I’d made myself, thinking about the not-so-lovely Dee. “She thinks she’s Miss Perfect, so she’s going to fucking love me being in trouble.”
Dee was captain of Manchester Athletic’s Women’s Team. We played the same position – attacking midfield – and we both wore the number ten shirt.
No love was lost between us.
Rhys grinned. I could almost see the thought bubbles bursting from his head. He’d been there a few months back when Miss Dee and I had exchanged a few words about her parking in my space.
“I’ll remember to wear ear plugs. And bring a first aid kit for after she’s finished chewing you up.” Rhys finished his coffee, which must’ve been hot enough to take off a layer of his mouth. “What did you do to piss her off? Have you figured it out yet?”
I had no idea what I’d done to earn the wrath of Dee Jones. I hadn’t slept with her, I’d never said anything negative about women’s football – I actually thought it was more skilful than men’s football most of the time – and I hadn’t done anything to any of her teammates that I was aware of.
It wasn’t the parking incident. She’d been unimpressed with me before that, a little like a raincloud that liked to piss on my parade whenever I had something to celebrate, to mix my metaphors.
I scored a brace, she’d get a hattrick. I won man of the match, she ended up in team of the week. I bought a new car; she did an interview where she discussed how cars were killing furry animals.
“I was born.”
Rhys banged down his coffee cup and headed back to the machine, choking on a laugh. “She’s a nice person. We’ve got her as a client now.”
“Really?”
He shook his head at me, turning on the coffee machine again and then heading to the fridge for more milk. “We do take on female clients, you know.”
“I didn’t mean that. Just –her.She probably bathes in hand sanitiser to keep herself so squeaky clean.” I finished the rest of my shake. “And you know I’d rather focus on pre-season than have to do all these appearances.”
I saw his sigh, his chest rising, nose flaring slightly. “Rowan, you’ve fucked up. I know Jade was a bitch to go to the press, and I know half of what she said wasn’t true – you didn’t cheat, and you weren’t partying all the time, but you did pretty much ignore her rather than just break up with her…”
“Until I did break it off.”
“Yeah, well. She was desperate to be a WAG. Next time, listen to what I say and don’t go there with women who’re just after one thing. Men are so much more straight forward.” He found a jug I didn’t know I owned, filled it with milk and stuck it in the microwave. Clearly we were feeling classy today.
Rhys had come out when he was eighteen, not that he’d needed to. He’d never had a girlfriend, despite being scouted by a modelling agency, and had politely turned down every girl that had asked him out.
My mum inquired one day if he was going to ever go on a date with a girl called Katy, who lived across the road from us, and was always hanging around in the hope that Rhys would ask her out.
His response?I’m actually interested in her brother.
