“Is Nate going to be okay to play on Saturday?” Genny asked, her silence trick finally backfiring.
I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed on her and my expression as blank as possible. “He should be fine. He just needs to spend time working on his mobility.”
Genny nodded, taking another sip. “His eyes were fixed on you in class this morning.”
That dratted skin of mine started to colour up. “Were they? I didn’t notice.” Which was true, because I’d purposely not looked his way.
“Hmmm. I watched him through the mirror. He was very intent on what you were saying.” That sly grin, the one that suggested she knew too much, appeared.
“I don’t think–”
“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.” Neva seemingly sprung out of nowhere. “Ooh, champagne!” She took the third seat and beamed at us both. “What’s up for discussion?”
“We’re discussing how Nate Morris has a thing for Amber.” Genny had just lost any chance of me doing her a favour in the near future.
“Nate doesn’t have a thing for me.” I shook my head and topped up my champagne from the bottle in the stand next to the table. “He’s grieving Chan.”
Neva shook her head. “Disagree. I think Genny’s right. I’ve seen him watching you too.”
I knew I was now scarlet from my neck to my hairline. “I’m so not his type.”
“You’re assuming his type is Chan. I suspect he wants someone not like Chan.” Genny sounded like she knew the gospel on what Nate wanted.
“If he’s interested in someone who doesn’t like footballers, can’t give a stuff about the WAG lifestyle and has no interest in having children, then yes, I’m totally the opposite of Chan. But I doubt that’s what he wants. He’ll want someone to be part of his family – that’s not going to be me.” I knew I didn’t want children. My brother had recently become a father for the first time, and I was made up for him. One of my older sisters had three kids and they were great, but I had no desire to be a mother. I liked my career and the freedom I had, but I was certain I didn’t want my own family.
Neva and Genny shared a look.
“You didn’t say you weren’t interested in him, Amber,” Neva said. “You can still see exactly how big those feet are without starting a relationship. That might be what you both need. A little jiggy-jiggy on your treatment table – that would help his mobility.” Her hip-thrusting that went along with thejiggy-jiggywas enough to make me wonder whether Neva had been pre-drinking.
“There will be nojiggy-jiggyon my treatment table. And nojiggy-jiggywith Nate. I don’t do footballers.” I shook my head. “Didn’t you have a date last night? How did that go?”
Neva was a serial dater. I had yet to know of her going on a third date with the same man, and it was rare for a second date to be had. She had a thing for older men, usually a decade or more older than her. Thejiggy-jiggy, should she ever get to that point, usually disappointed her.
“It went. There won’t be a repeat. We had a nice dinner, he told me about his daughter who was expecting her first child. I offered advice on eating while pregnant and turned down his kind offer of a nightcap.” She toyed with the menu in front of her. “I might have to change tack.”
I focused all of my attention on Neva, because this was just the sort of thing I needed to take the attention off me.
“Change tack to what?” I knew Neva wanted children and the sooner the better. I’d seen her with a couple of the players’ babies, cooing over them, helping wind them and cuddle them. I’d been content to stay well away.
She shrugged. “Someone my age instead of older. I’m thirty. There must be men who are interested in settling down.”
“Maybe you should take the pressure off yourself and just have fun,” Genevieve said, beckoning over the waiter. “Just go with the flow and see what happens. Get rid of your checklist.”
Because Neva had a checklist for her prospective baby-daddy, which included having his own house, or houses; a solid, healthy income and no known medical conditions that could be passed on. There were a few other requirements, such as a suitably sized penis and the knowledge of what to do with it, but these were fairly standard.
She shook her head. “I don’t have the time. But if I change the demographic of my hunting ground, I may be more successful. Any dates lined up, Genny?”
We both looked at Genevieve with interest. I had never known her to go on a date. I knew there was someone she hooked up with, an acquaintance with benefits, but neither of us had any idea who it was. Whenever we asked, Genny would just shake her head and smile.
“The usual.” She looked at the menu. Clearly, we were all still keeping our secrets.
“What exactly is ‘the usual’?” I already knew what I was going to eat, so I didn’t need to spend too much time perusing the menu, or even pretending to. “You’ve never explained who’s making you see stars.”
“That’s because he isn’t important. Neither of us want it to go anywhere – it really is just a means to scratch an itch.” There was another shake of her head. “I don’t have time for anything else.”
That was true; she didn’t. She was one of the first people at the club every morning, and usually the last to leave, along with the manager. Genny was married to her job, and she seemed quite happy with that situation.
We ordered, spotting a couple of celebrities at tables, with their entourage. Nicky Pryce-Jones turned up with his sister, giving us a wave and coming over for a quick chat, avoiding looking at Neva when his food arrived. Our food was good; the cocktails even better, but taking the prize was the gossip. I lived for our weekly catch ups, when we put the world to rights and made sense of what was going on around us.
