“I didn’t hurt you. But did you hear me?”
I looked at him sheepishly. “Sorry. Say it again?”
He bumped my shoulder and laughed. “Punk. I asked if you‘d heard from the league.”
“Not since they booted me.”
It still didn’t make any sense to me, but I had no say in the matter. They did what they thought was right.
“What are you gonna do?”
Shaking my head, I stared at my glass. “I wish I knew. Right now, I’m just existing, day to day.”
Owen took a sip of his beer. “What does Leland say? Surely he can do something.”
I didn’t want to talk about him. Owen had no idea what had happened between us, and I tried to avoid thinking about the big wanker. But everyone around here knew him, and there was no avoiding the topic.
“He says I have an offer from a team in Argentina if I can keep my shit together. They’re looking for another full-back.”
Owen’s eyes bugged out. “Argentina?”
“Yep,” I said, turning on my stool. “Is my brain capable of learning a new language? How do you say ‘fuck you’ in Spanish, anyway? Or do they speak Portuguese there? I suck at regional geography.”
Owen smirked. “That’s Brazil, but the rest speak Spanish. You gotta learn ‘cock sucker’ too. And ‘motherfucker’. Those are your faves.”
I snorted at his response. His spot-on humor always lightened my mood momentarily.
“Let’s see if we can work this through without ya going to South America.”
“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”
He laughed but suddenly became more serious. “You saved a bunch of money, didn’t ya? You can live on that until next season if you’re careful. You don’t have a mortgage, so there’s that.”
I nodded and took a swallow of my beer.
“Maybe you should try coaching.”
I almost shot my lager out of my nose, and of course, he found it hilarious.
“Fucker,” I said, wiping my face. “That was funny. No one is gonna want an asshole like me teaching impressionable kids. Imagine the parents howling over that one.”
He grinned but gave me an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Probably not the best choice for a dirty fucker like you.”
Owen finished his beer and signaled to the bartender to bring him another one. He knew my limit.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “How about television? You’re a handsome bloke with the hair and beard. You could be a commentator. Who knows the game better than a player?”
I snickered at the thought of being on TV. It wasn’t a terrible idea, but I didn’t think I was that personable. It might appear as if I belonged there, but my bad attitude sometimes didn’t agree with my face.
“True. I’m a sexy devil for sure, but that’s not me. I need something physical to help me ease the aggression out, and the clash of bodies slamming together and digging in to tackle a bloke to the ground does it for me. Put my hands on him and strip the ball away.”
Owen turned to face me. “Sounds like what youneedis to get laid.”
I laughed. “NowthatI have no trouble getting.”
Owen shook his head. He knew I was gay, but it never bothered him. My team knew it, and it never mattered to them either.
“How many dating sites are you on now?”
