Page 29 of Brat on the Ball

“You’re retiring? Being replaced by a younger model?” I asked. “Or have you actually started working on me coming out, like we agreed weeks ago?”

“All in good time, all in good time. No. I’ve had another offer from the Saudis. Five-hundred thousand a week, as well as fifty percent of shirt sales.”

“It’s still a no, John.”

“Then you’re a fucking fool.” John slammed his hand down on the desk, and I jumped. “Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? I haveslavedaway for you to do as well as you have, and for what? Ten percent of your wages, Two fucking grand a week. And here I am, asking you to consider just a year of the best fucking money of your life to set us both up for retirement. And what do you give me in return for all my years of hard work? Fuck all.”

I gritted my teeth together as I tried to think of a response that wouldn’t involve me tearing his head off. “You get two grand a week from me. Somewhere around the same from Cory, and you’ve got another ten players in the league below netting you about five hundred a week each. If you can’t live on the yearly minimum wage every month, then I don’t think that’s a problem for me to solve.”

“What’s got you so feisty recently?” he asked me, a mocking tone in his voice. “You used to do as you were told.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m…happy. With my club. And I am thinking about taking the next step, something you were meant to be helping me do in a way that won’t get me executed by the press. Instead, you’re sending me to a country where I actually could be executed.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Jail time at worst. And they never prosecute their biggest sports stars, surely you know that? Just a slap on the wrist for you and some time in the slammer for whichever poor young prostitute you’ve got involved with.”

“You’re a thoughtless prick,” I said.

John glared. “Talking back will get you nowhere. You’ve trusted me with an awfully big secret. It would be a shame if it were to get out in the wrong way.Football Star Gets His Rocks Off at Kink Club.I can see the headline now…”

“I’m not going to Saudi Arabia. No matter how much you threaten me, I will not be going.”

John stood up. “Then consider Reading when the next transfer window comes up, or I won’t be so nice.”

He knocked me aside as he stroked out of the room. As I idly rubbed my shoulder, I could feel myself freezing up mentally again.What the fuck do I do now?

Chapter Fifteen - George

The drive up to the university for my seminar was done in a rush, having crammed the day’s training drills that Finn had prescribed all into one morning so that I could get to university. As I passed the turning that led to the university training grounds — as well as Cardiff City’s football facility — I thought of Ollie. I was itching to text him, but I didn’t want to seem desperate. I was the cool, stoic one. Always had been, and always would be.

The university was just off the dual carriageway at the next slip road, an institution built into the Welsh hillsides. It was less prestigious than Cardiff University, but I’d been so focused on rugby as a kid in school that I hadn’t achieved the grades needed to get in there, despite being plenty intelligent. So, as an adult, I’d busted my arse to get into the University of South Wales. And I’d made it. Now, I just had to pass my Masters.

I pulled into the car park, and, checking my watch, ran up the steps to the lecture theatre where Dr Ramoray would host his seminar. It might be my last chance to workshop any dissertation ideas before I had to really start writing it.

I was running late, but as I burst into the room, I found there was no one there. “What the…” I checked my schedule again. I was definitely in the right place. But the room was empty. It took me five minutes to log into my university email account, and I stood tapping my foot as the disgustingly slow system loaded up. And there it was.Apologies for Seminar cancellation, from Dr Ramoray.

I growled, only to myself. For most full-time students, it was a minor inconvenience, But I’d worked fucking hard to do a day’s worth of rugby training in one morning, for nothing. I didn’t want my future career and current one to suffer in tandem because of lecturers not turning up.

“You too?” Elsie was standing in the doorway, looking down at her phone.

“Me too. I’m going home,” I muttered.

“Nope. I gave you my number, and you didn’t text me once. We’re getting a cuppa and talking academia. How exciting for you.”

“Fine,” I said, “but you’re paying.”

“Deal.”

* * *

The university’s cafeteria was massive, and busy. The disadvantage - though I was sure some people wouldn’t see it as one - of it being such a small university with so many local students, is that many were fans of Cardiff Old Navy or Wales, so I’d been stopped twice in the queue for my coffee to take a picture.

“Has anyone seen Kim Kardashian?” laughed Elsie as we sat down. “I think I’m drinking with acelebrity.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, though Elsie was so lovely that I found it hard to be annoyed with her. She dumped four sugars into her coffee and then stirred it.

“Want some coffee with your sugar?” I asked.

“You try being a single mum to a toddler and then lecture me on my stimulant intake.” Elsie fixed me with a glare that could topple even the biggest rugby player. “I was up all night working, then I had to take Blod to school, try to finish some of my uni work and then come here. I am running on twelve minutes of sleep, I think.”

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