‘Was it unprovoked?’
‘I hit him. With my right fist. In the face.’
‘Bloody hell, Scottie!’ Coach Wallace sounds like he’s been gargling nails. ‘Give us something! Why did you do it? Nevin’s a wind-up merchant, we know that. Did he threaten you? Did he?—’
‘I punched him,’ I repeat flatly. ‘I lost my temper. That’s that.’
Stark leans back. ‘Well. That’s unfortunate, but it makes things simple. Gross Misconduct. Bringing the game into disrepute.’ He ticks points off on his fingers. ‘We have a zero-tolerance policy, Mr Kerr. You’ve triggered the morality clause in your central contract, Mr Kerr.’
‘I did.’
‘Then you leave us no choice.’ Stark looks at the other board members. Two heads dip in unison. ‘We are moving for immediate termination for cause. You are suspended effective immediately, pending the formal notice period, but…’ He spreads his hands. ‘Let’s be realistic. You’re done here.’
I nod. It’s a simple mechanical action. Chin down, chin up. ‘Okay.’
Coach Wallace smacks the table with his open palm. ‘“Okay”? That’s it? You’re going to take it lying down?’
‘I broke the rules, Coach.’
‘Fucking hell!’ He stands up and his chair tips over. ‘You’re the most disciplined player I’ve ever coached. You don’t lose your temper. What did he say to you?’
I weld my teeth together. If I speak, I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them about the bruises on Ava’s arms. About the way she flinches when a cupboard shuts too loudly. How he made her retreat into herself, slowly erasing her. Then they’ll drag her into this room, or even a court, and suits and the press will pick over her life like vultures on a carcass. Or worse, the police. They’ll ask for evidence. They’ll ask why she stayed. If she fought back. They’ll make her hurt all over again.
I won’t let that happen. ‘It doesn’t matter. I did it. I’m out.’
Stark picks up his pen and looks to his right. ‘If you’re quite finished, Wallace? We have the paperwork to?—’
The door bangs against the wall with a gunshot crack, and Stark’s pen ricochets across the table. Finn barges into the room, in joggers and flashy white trainers that squeak on the linoleum. Brodie is right behind him, filling the entrance, a thundercloud about to break. Or the Greek god Zeus right before throwing a monumental fit.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.
‘Getting you off the hook, you eejit,’ Finn declares with the tact of a Great Dane pup.
‘Get out.’ I stand up. ‘This isn’t your fight.’
That fucker ignores me. He saunters straight to the table, pulls a chair out, and sits down next to Stark. He puts his phone on the table, screen up.
‘We need to have a chat.’ Finn’s voice is conversational, bone-chillingly light.
‘This is a closed meeting,’ Stark splutters. ‘I’ll call security.’
‘Security’s busy,’ Brodie rumbles. He shuts the door and leans against it, folding his arms. His biceps strain the fabric of his shirt. ‘They’re helping the other lads park.’
‘Mr Kerr has admitted guilt.’ Stark tries to regain altitude. ‘He confessed. There’s nothing we can do.’
‘Aye, he’d do that,’ Finn says. ‘Giant saviour complex, that one.’ His blue eyes are furious and filled with a disturbing amount of loyalty. ‘You’re a dafty without limits, Scottie.’
‘Finn, get out. Honestly. I don’t want you involved.’
‘Tough shite.’ Finn taps his phone. ‘Because I spoke to Ava.’
‘You did what?’
‘She called me. I was a bit shocked to find out you were falling on your sword like a dramatic bastard.’ Finn swipes the screen. ‘She told me to show them these. You see, Ava was Nevin’s girlfriend until Scottie got her out of there. And that’s what Neely was up to when he wasn’t on the pitch.’
Stark zooms in and recoils. She said he never hit her, so I’m praying it isn’t too bad. Still, I’m glad that I don’t see what they’re seeing. Because there wouldn’t be a fucking place for Nevin Neely to hide his sorry arse on this whole bloody planet if I saw the full extent of what he did to her. He’d end up in the ground; I’d end up in The Big Hoose.
Coach Wallace picks up the phone and stares at the screen for a long time. When he looks up, his eyes are red. ‘This…was Nevin?’
