All this luxury. And no one to share it with.The gloomy thought popped into my head out of nowhere.
Only to be interrupted by my private phone vibrating in the pocket of my leather bomber jacket.
It was Max. I answered the call with a deep frown.
“Oi, mate. Why’re you ringin’ me instead of textin’?”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to text about the American girl you were flirting with on the plane,” Max answered on the other side of the line.
“How the bloody hell—” I started to ask.
But Max interrupted before I could finish. “C’mon, you know first class gets all the attention on the socials. Check out what No1GreenieFlame132 posted.”
Max read aloud, “Heartbreak emoji. ‘Spotted @AtomicAtwater with some American girl in first class on the way to Paris. Does this mean I’ll never get my chance?’ More heartbreak emojis. Like, a whole row of them.”
Max let out a dry chuckle. “From the look of this blurry back-of-the-heads pic Number1GreenieFlame236 snuck, you and this American chick were getting real cozy in the front seats.”
“Did they figure out who she is?” I asked with a guilty heart, thinking of what Kayla had just gone through with her wanker ex.
“Not yet. That’s why I’m calling you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, she was American. She probably wouldn’t even clock it if her image ended up on some European footie gossip site. Still, I didn’t want anyone harassing her because of me.
“So, who is she?” Max asked again. “It’s not like you to go on vacation with some anonymous woman—or go on vacation, period, unless I harass you into it. Is this American the reason you decided to finish up your holiday break in Paris instead of coming to Mykonos to party with me?”
My dark mood lightened a bit. “Nah, not really. But now that you guessed it, I’m glad for the cover story.”
Since it was Max, I let him in on the real deal. “Got some contract negotiations comin’ up with the Old Green, and you know Cedric Oliver—he was one of the assistant coaches for FC Greenwich before he got the head coachin’ gig for this French team. Anyway, Coach Ollie’s been sniffin’ around with a Paris Triomphe contract. Said the salary raise would be ‘morethan competitive.’ His words, not mine.”
“I bet. Triomphe’s the club owned by the Middle Eastern family behind the Tourmaline Group, right?” Max lets out an impressed whistle. "Hotels, planes, soccer teams. Their big-oil money makes the Benton Brand look like a mom-and-pop motel.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Figured I’d use their hefty offer in euros to squeeze more quid out of Greenwich.”
“If it’s all about leverage, why use this American as cover, then?” Max’s tone shifted from curious to puzzled. “Don’t youwantFC Greenwich to know Paris is interested?”
“I want ’em to knowdurin’the salary negotiations. Not a month beforehand, when they’ve got time to replace me with two up-and-comers whose combined salaries won’t be nearly as much as what my agent’s plannin’ to ask ’em for to keep me around. If I want Old Green to pay what I’m worth, I’ll be needin’ an offer from France for ’em to outbid, won’t I?”
“Okay, I get it now. Should have known you wouldn’t change up overnight for some American chick.” Max’s voice turned relieved and filled with admiration. “You’re playing all the angles. Getting laid and setting yourself up to get paid at the same time. Nice.”
Not nice, actually.
A slimy feeling crawled over me when he put it like that.
Max didn’t know about the instant connection I’d felt with that “American chick.”
Or about the hollow ache in my chest.
“Hey, I’m still partying in Greece. I’m practically next door.” Max’s voice brought me back to the current convo. “But I opened a new club in Paris a few months ago. Maybe I’ll hop on the jet and join you. Fuck that World's Worst CO2 Emissions List I made last year. Again.”
The doorbell rang before I could answer.
“Mick? Mick? You still there?” Max said into my ear, calling me by the name reserved for my inner circle of friends and business mates.
“Talk later,” I told Max. Then I hung up before he could respond
Kayla was here.
Somehow, I knew it even before I opened one of the suite’s doors and found her on the other side, standing beside the French butler.
