Page 6 of Lord of the Lock

“You’d know all about that if you bothered showing up every once in a while,” Rhod said before flashing me a smile. “Why don’t we do the interview in here instead of my office? I spilled coffee in there in the pre-season and I haven’t been able to get the smell out.”

I laughed and took a seat he offered on a rowing machine, feeling even more stupid in my fancy clothes.

“I’ll be honest, I was surprised when I saw your name on an application for a coach,” he said. “I knew you were taking a break from rugby but…”

When he didn’t carry on, I picked up the thread he’d left. “But I need something new for now, Rhod. And you know I love grassroots rugby.”

“Loved,” the old man corrected. “I haven’t seen you around here since you got the call-up to Cardiff. You haven’t exactly shown loyalty to old Pontycae since you left.”

“Can you blame me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Rhod’s bushy grey eyebrows, once ginger, drew together. “Yes, I can. Hate where you came from all you like. But I don’t expect my players to pull the ladder up after them. If you were good enough for professional rugby, any of these boys could have been. And you never came back to inspire them.”

“Sorry, Rhod.”

“Well, you should be.” But then he smiled. “We will not turn our backs on you, however. You’ve got the job. I’m still manager, I’ve been around too long to give that up easy. But we need a coach who can keep up with the lads. And ladies, now. That’s a new one. Women playing rugby…wonders never cease.”

I breathed a sigh of — relief, maybe? I still hadn’t figured out my emotions after all the crap that had come before — but maybe this was what I needed.

“I looked up interview techniques online and everything,” I muttered.

“C’mon, one of Wales’ best applying for a job with Pont? It was always going to you. Though it helps that you can probably afford us paying you a pittance.” Rhod stood up and clapped me on the shoulder. “I did have one concern about employing you, and old Bill sorted me right out.”

“Jenkins?” I asked, remembering a heavy-drinking old man from my days as a player. “What was the problem?”

“I worried with your….with the nickname and rumours that were going round about you.”

My heart chilled. “Rhod, if there’s any kind of homophobia I’m out. You know they’re not just rumours, I’m bisexual and I thought we were working to cut that shit out of rugby.”

Rhod raised one eyebrow. “I know, lad. I meantthe Horse.”

I snorted, I couldn’t help it. “You were worried about my big dick? And how did old Bill Jenkins convince you it wasn’t big?”

“Stop being a smart-arse or you’re not getting the bloody job. When you were here last, you were one of our best players. But you weren’t everyone’s friend on this team. If you could seduce someone’s girlfriend, you would. That, and I saw you kissing a boy under the stands after a match when you were seventeen. So no, your bisexuality has never bothered me. You riding roughshod over other players to get a quick bang is what bothers me, and I’m not having you do it as a member of coaching staff. Some of the boys whose ladies you took last time are still playing. But from the sounds of things, I don’t need to worry about that any more.”

“And why is that?” I asked.

“Bill saw you with some pink haired boy in the Eagle last night. Says you’re smitten.”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “That.”

* * *

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I felt like pulling my hair out as I paced my little living room. The first thing I’d wanted to do when I walked through the door was crack open a bottle of beer, but I’d resisted. I’d chatted with Rhod for a little bit longer about the demands of the job and the tiny perks that came from working part time for a mostly-amateur team in the arse-end of nowhere.

But Nathan remained a problem. My little ploy to save him had blown up into a lie in a town small enough that gossip flew around faster than light. And I didn’t know how to fix that. Would Rhod care if I wasn’t in a relationship with the guy? I thought so. Me being a bit of a shagger had caused enough problems when I was seventeen and playing for the team. I could see why something like that would concern him now when the papers had made sure that I had grown that reputation to a whole new level.

I tapped the button on my phone to have my coffee maker make two double shot espressos. This felt like either a drink myself stupid or four shot kind of problem. And if the espresso didn’t work, I was sure there was some vodka in one of the kitchen cupboards. I could make espresso Martinis, kill two birds with one drink.

How could I possibly contact Nathan? What would I say? Would he be willing to say he was my boyfriend, keep up the ruse I’d started? What could I offer him in return? I paced toward the kitchen as the coffee machine beeped when there was a knock at the door.

For fuck’s sake.The one thing I didn’t need was visitors “What?” I asked loudly as I opened the door and almost ran into the wall of flowers in front of me.

“Take them, take them!” The flowers tilted forward and I grabbed them before they could fall on the floor, revealing bright pink hair and big tortoiseshell glasses.

“Nathan?” I asked.

“Oh thank God,” he said. “This was the third house I’d checked. I’d be embarrassed if I had to knock on any more.”

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