January carried on talking. Cal carried on listening, hopefully on my behalf.
“What we’d really like you to think about, is whether you’d be interested in putting your name to a collection.” It was the first thing Gareth had said, apart from his name. “You have exactly the right image we want for a new collection. Do you have time today for us to show you some designs?”
This was interesting. Part of me couldn’t think of much worse; my inner computer geek was screaming for a collab that included hoodies and ripped jeans, T-shirts with coded puns on the front, but the image that I vaguely tried to cultivate would do well from this.
“Sure. I’ll take a look.”
Cal, Gareth and January all grinned.
January sat next to me while we ate a three-course meal that Neva, the club’s lead nutritionist, wouldn’t have approved of. I’d opted for the protein rich choices; steak, veggies, light on the potatoes, and I’d tried to dodge dessert altogether, only January had applied enough pressure to ‘give myself a treat’ that it was easier to bow down and give in than explain exactly why I couldn’t. I also got the feeling that January really wanted dessert, but wasn’t going to have it unless I did, which gave me the guilts.
I also had the feeling that January was keen for another meeting. One with just me and her.
She was attractive. Her appearance and style were similar to the women I’d discreetly dated in London, the businesswomen and execs who had no desire for a relationship, but a fuck without any nasty strings was pleasant for both of us. I would’ve considered exchanging numbers on a more personal basis with January, but my libido wasn’t interested. It was still hung up on Penny, who wasn’t Penny. She was a woman whose name I didn’t know and who had never given me her number.
I hadn’t asked for her number.
Those couple of days in that hotel suite while the storm had raged outside had been one of those moments that I’d look back on and think that maybe it had been a dream, or it had happened to someone else. I hadn’t expected it to still have so much space in my head, or to be able to relive it with so much clarity.
So I wasn’t going to be able to escape with January.
“There’s nothing in the press about your relationships,” January said when we were onto coffees. Cal and Gareth were discussing marketing strategies and another client of Cal’s, a golfer who was starting to do big things on the circuit.
I shook my head. “I keep a low profile.”
“Very low. That’s why we’re over the moon to work with you. You choose the products you endorse carefully and you manage to manipulate the media to display the image you want.” Her eyes danced, her fingers toying with a spoon that was still on the table. “But what do you get up to when you’re not training? What’s hidden behind your low profile.”
Even without the memories of Penny still far too fresh, I wouldn’t have been interested in this sort of come on. It was too obvious. Needy.
“A long-term girlfriend who stays completely out of the limelight.” It was a line I’d given before. “She has her own career and doesn’t want to be seen as a WAG.”
January nodded, her smile now forced and muted. “Understandable. How long have you been together?”
“A while.” I stood up. “Excuse me. I need to make a call.”
I headed away from the table towards the bar, wanting to escape before January asked any more questions that I didn’t want to answer.
Cal had glanced at me knowingly as I’d left. The deal was made anyway. I’d agreed to put my name to a collection – suits, shirts, shoes and some accessories – and a date had been made for me to go down to London to see the designs and model them, something that would be painful but only half a day.
A woman sat at the bar, a head full of blonde hair that seemed familiar. She sat straight, perfect posture, her legs crossed at the ankles. I knew her without any need for her to turn around. I knew those shoulders; I knew that waist. I knew how she laughed and I’d heard her sing in the shower, because I’d just laid on the bed and listened to her.
I didn’t think. I didn’t second guess what I was going to do, because this could go two ways. She could be uninterested in a repeat; in which case we’d have a nice conversation and go our separate ways.
Or we were in a hotel. Again. Places of transition where names didn’t count.
I took the bar stool next to her, the bartender coming straight over. I wasn’t sure if he recognised me, seeing as my face had been plastered over half of Manchester after signing for Athletic, but if he did, he buried it.
“What can I get you, sir?”
“A negroni, thank you.”
The blonde turned to look at me, and for a millisecond, I saw surprise, before it was replaced with a light in her eyes that was both dirty and delighted.
Delicious.That had been one of her favourite words.
“Would you like to join me?” I locked gazes with her. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Mindy.” She licked her lips. “And yes, I would.”
