“To do what?”
“To coach.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“The junior team. Thirteen to sixteen years old. They’re a good squad: champions are born from that team. It could give you a chance to come home.”
“Iamhome, Phil.”
“Come on. You can’t tell me you’re seriously doing well here.”
“My daughter’s just settling in. She’s making friends.”
“She’ll make new ones.”
“Do you know what it cost me to get her a place in that school?”
“Not a problem: management will take care of that. What do you say to a private Catholic school? It would look good for your reputation, too.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“They want you. Okay? They want your history: both of you. The ex-star who suddenly became a father, the problematic teenage daughter, the mother who died of cancer. The fact that you came back home to start over.”
“I don’t—”
“They’ll love you.”
“Who?”
“The papers, the sponsors.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“They’ll pay thousands of euros just the image of you – and then for your daughter.”
“What has Skylar got to do with this?”
“We’ll find something for her, too. Clothes, shoes, jewellery…”
“I think you need to leave. Now.”
“What?”
I get to my feet. “Get out of my house.”
He stands up, too. “You’re insane.”
“I’m not. But you appear to be.”
“You’re turning this down…for what? To coach a local school team?”
“I’m turning this down because the things you’re offering mean nothing to me.”
“They used to mean a lot to you.”
“I never used to love a little girl more than I love myself, Phil.”
“Don’t you see how good this would be for her? Think of everything you could give her.”
