Page 4 of Brat on the Ball

“How’s my favourite footballer?” he asked.

“Bet you say that to all the footballers,” I said.

“Aye,” he laughed. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true when I’m talking to you though. But your dilemma has been a bit of a thorn in my side.”

I looked around furtively before realising John had chosen a secluded booth for exactly that reason. “Dilemma? I asked you to find a way for me to…”

It was John’s turn to look furtive. “Maybe it’s not the time, son. Have you considered waiting until you’re a bit older?”

“John, I’m twenty-five now. I’ve known since I was about sixteen, and I’ve hidden it enough for the sake of my career.”

“Hidden what?” John asked with a sly smile.

“Hidden…you know.”

“You can’t even say it to me in private and you expect me to put the effort in to get you out publicly? I don’t think so, son. Give it time.”

“Fuck. Fine,” I said. I felt embarrassed. How long had I known I liked men? How many stupid teenage experiments had led me to that conclusion? And I still struggled to say it out loud. “What did you call me here for then, if not that?”

“Reading has upped the offer for you. They can offer a starting salary of £40,000 a week and they’ll pay whatever transfer fee Cardiff ask for when the window opens up.”

“John, I’ve told you. I’m Welsh through and through, and Cardiff is the team that raised me.”

“That’sdoubleyour current salary!” John said. “And you can still play for Wales.”

“John, I’m not interested.” I wasn’t. I had enough money.

“Well, consider it. We still have three months until the January transfer window. Play a few good games and I’ll have you on fifty thousand a week. And…”

“And what, John?” I asked.

“You’re too good for Cardiff. They are at best a Championship team. You could go up to the Premier League and hold your own.”

The waiter brought out a steak and chips for John and a Caesar salad for me. “Drinks?” He asked.

“I’ll have the Sauvignon, he’ll have an orange juice,” said John. The waiter nodded without even looking at me and walked away.

John tucked into his steak straight away and gestured for me to start eating mine, like I’d been desperately waiting for his signal. I lifted a leaf with my hand and stuffed it into my mouth.

“Use your knife and fork, this place is expensive,” John said.

“I know, I’m probably paying for it.” I picked up another salad leaf and dropped it dramatically into my mouth.

“For fuck’s sake, will you behave?” John pulled the bowl away from me.

“I need to be taught how to eat, John. Just like I need to be told what deals to take, what jobs to do, not to come out, even what I eat in a meal I’m paying for. I need you to tell me how to doeverything.” I grabbed at the fork and idly started playing with the tines.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll stop pushing the Reading thing, so long as you’ll think about it. And I’ll think about…how youcome out.”

“Perfect.” I shoved the fork into my salad and took in a big mouthful.

“In the meantime…” John looked down at his plate as he spoke. “You know you’re not the only one, yeah? I’ve had to get some weird shit to keep the talent happy. If you want me to find a discreet masseuse who can keep you happy for a little while longer, I’m happy to make that call.”

“Gross, John. I’m not going to pay for sex.”

“Fine, fine. It was just a suggestion. I just can’t exactly imagine you meeting someone through the traditional means, y’know? I don’t want you meeting some idiot on Tinder who decides to sell your story and pictures to the tabloids.”

I shuddered. “No thanks. I’ll stay a nun.”

---