He nodded, his mouth too full to answer. When he’d swallowed, which looked like a snake digesting a mouse, and had taken a large gulp of water, he gave me a smile that was a bit fucking disconcerting.
“I know too much about your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend. We haven’t had that conversation yet.”
“That’s just a formality. Have you told Genevieve yet?”
I frowned. Genny was our woman of all trades. She pretty much ran the club – certainly the player side of it. Needed a new house – Genny would sort out all of the admin. Needed a new wardrobe – personal shopper procured. Needed a press release after your missus catches you with her best friend – Genny was your person. She was technically the chief of communications, but that meant she organised everything and everyone.
“No one knows, apart from you.”
Nate gave me a nod, eyeing what was left of his steak. “You might want to give her the heads up. It won’t be long before the media find out, and you’ll need Genny in a good mood and well prepped to deal with that shit.” He glanced at Libbie who was now fast asleep, cuddled against one of her precious bags of shopping. “Not like the media are used to you being seen with women. I read speculation that you were gay the other day.”
I shook my head. There were, of course, footballers who were gay, but no one had come out yet. Football supporters could be cruel, and the response the first footballer who came out would get would not all be supportive.
“Who cares? It shouldn’t even be newsworthy, unless I have a bad game – or a decent one.” I pushed my plate away. It was now clear. A finger up to Neva.
“True.” Nate switched his plate for Libbie’s. Clearly calories didn’t count if they were from your daughter’s leftovers. “But don’t you want to know what was said about Otter?”
“No.” I genuinely didn’t. I wanted to avoid any media take. If Otter had a job like a teacher or a pharmacist, I wouldn’t be learning about her in the press. “You done?”
“Not quite. Lib’s still got some fries left.”
I shook my head. It was all I could do.
Otter: I’m in Manchester in two weeks. Or I can be in Manchester. It’s for one night, but I don’t have any commitments while I’m there.
Me: What day is it?
Otter: Wednesday. I’ll be there that Wednesday night.
Me: We have no midweek game that week. Do you want to stay at mine? I’ll kick Rowan out for the night.
Which wouldn’t be an issue. He was now surgically attached to Dee.
Otter: Amazing. I’ve been wanting to see what it’s like where you live. How’s the house hunting?
Me: Offer accepted. Trying to rush the sale through, but solicitors like taking their time. Come and see it with me Tuesday afternoon, if you can get here soon enough. I’ll get the keys.
Otter: Is no one living there at the moment?
Otter: Shit. That’s a very non-hook up thing to do *shocked face*
Otter: You have two minutes to retract that offer, then hell, yeah, I’ll be there. Love looking at property.
Me: It’s cool. Friends can look at friend’s future houses.
That was me backtracking.
Otter: I’ll take that. Wuss. In other news, we’ve finally finished filming! Yay!
Me: So what’s next? Do you start filming something else?
Otter: No, thank god. But we now have the ranging hell of publicity, so you might see my sweet face all over the media. That film is out next month – Oscar dreams and all that.
I knew I’d be seeing more of her. I’d opened my browser this morning and an interview with her had landed on my screen, fuck knew how. Even I didn’t have the willpower not to read through it. She’d talked about her upcoming projects and releases, had been evasive about her love life, but there were a few paragraphs about how she was looking for a property to buy in England instead of short-term renting.
We hadn’t really discussed where she lived, mainly because she’d been staying in trailers on set or hotels since I’d known her.
