Page 51 of Playing to Win

Colin saw a pair of orange-and-white-striped fish shrink back into the tentacles of a sea anemone. “Clownfish! I wanted those so bad after I sawFinding Nemo.” He bit his lip, anticipating an eyeroll from Andrew. “Though I suppose every kid did. They were dead trendy for a while, weren’t they?”

“For good reason. They’re amazing creatures. I call these two Pepe and Raphaël. The blue damselfish, see them? That’s Luka and Toni.” Andrew leaned close, fingers brushing Colin’s waist. “There’s also a pair of fire fish somewh—ah, there’s one.” He pointed to a fish with a long, spiky back fin, whose body started turquoise at the head and turned deep orange by the tail. “That’s Marcelo, and Álvaro is somewhere about. Oh, and here’s my absolute faaaavorite.” His voice pitched up with pride as he indicated a graceful white fish with golden stripes and an eye-like spot on its tail. “My copperband butterfly. Colin, meet Cristiano.”

“Wait.” Colin straightened up. “You named your fish after Real Madrid players?”

“Mm-hm. This flame angelfish here,” he said, indicating a blazing orange beauty, “is called Ángel—I know, overly obvious, right?—but there’s talk of Di María going to Manchester United, in which case I’ll rename it after our new transfer acquisition, James.” He used the Spanish pronunciation,HAH-mays.

“As in Rodríguez.” Colin shook his head. “Why am I not surprised you’re a Real fan?”

“Because you think me a fascist, so of course I’d love a football club supported so passionately by Generalissimo Franco. It would have nothing to do with the fact they’re the best team in the world, no.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Just when I was thinking you a softie for your love of animals.”

“And which team do you support?” Andrew asked.

At the risk of being judged, Colin told the truth. “I was a lifelong Manchester City fan, but—”

“But then they were bought by a billionaire oil tycoon and it feels less noble now.”

“Aye.”

“Even though they’re winning, and you like winning.”

“Erm…pretty much, exactly.” It unnerved Colin how clearly Andrew saw him. Was he that transparent, or was he foolishly revealing himself to the one person who could hurt him most?

Looking for a diversion, Colin moved toward the spiral staircase. “What’s up here?”

“Nothing!” Andrew leaped to intercept him. “Just a storage area.”

Colin craned his neck to see the upper level. “What do you store up there, dead bodies?”

“Not anymore. The smell, you know.” Andrew laughed, but kept blocking the stairway. “It’s private, all right? A space just for myself.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Colin turned to face the window. “I’ll just enjoy the view.”

“And I’ll braise the Asian sea bass, who shall remain nameless.”

Colin looked out over a murky-skied Glasgow, where the weather had returned to form, as if it knew there were no more Commonwealth Games tourists to impress. He put his hand to the glass to gauge the outside temperature.

“Careful!” Andrew called from the kitchen.

Colin jerked his hand back. “What’s wrong?”

“The window’s alarmed.” He poured a green creamy sauce into a frying pan, then raised his voice over the sizzling. “You can open it, but don’t lean on it. It’s pressure-sensitive.”

Colin remembered Andrew’s precarious security situation. “You leave these blinds open all the time?”

“Of course. It’s a lovely view, especially at sunset.” Andrew laid a pair of white fish filets in the sauce. “No buildings directly across the street to block the skyline.”

“Yeah, but someone way over there at Uni Strathclyde could spy on you with binoculars.” Colin wandered into the kitchen. “With all those death threats you get, I’d think you’d be more careful.”

“I could lower my blinds and make my home feel despondently dark and small, to grant myself the illusion of safety.” He shifted the fish in the pan, making the sauce hiss. “I could worry about a sniper’s bullet piercing my brain, or prying eyes seeing me cook or watch television or feed my fish. But I don’t.” He shrugged, adjusting the strap of his well-worn black denim apron. “I can’t live in fear.”

Colin was now close behind him. “Why not? Everyone else does.”

Andrew startled, lifting his eyes to Colin’s. He didn’t look ready with a retort or insult. He just…looked. As if trying to understand.

“What are you afraid of?” Andrew asked him. It seemed a sincere question, like he really wanted to know.

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