Page 1 of The Tempo of Truth
Ky
The beer in my hand had long gone warm and flat, but that didn’t stop me from chugging the unpleasant liquid down with an audible gulp as soon as I caught sight of a familiar face in the last place I expected.I was seven or eight beers in and had chased half of them with a shot of cheap whiskey.I figured my eyes might have been seeing what Iwantedto see rather than what was really in front of me.I excelled at convincing myself that my reality was much better than it actually was.It was a skill left over from growing up in poverty and having a hard childhood.
I was a world-class liar and a top-tier con artist.Or at least I was until my true nature was brutally revealed for all to see.Hardly anyone questioned the bullshit that came out of my mouth on any given day, me included.I wanted to believe in the falsehoods that spilled from my lips more than anyone could imagine.I told myself it made perfect sense that the person I wanted with me most on the worst day of my life was suddenly standing in front of me with a distinctly disappointed look on her cherubic face.
I flicked my fingers in the air to signal to the bartender that I wanted another round.My Portuguese was awful, even though I’d been in Portugal for over a year.Fortunately, there was a universal language that everyone looking to drown their sorrows and disappear into a bottle spoke.The drunken and sloppy gestures made getting shitfaced in a foreign country relatively easy.Another pint of beer arrived in front of me at the same time the chair opposite mine was pulled out and occupied by an absolutely ethereal young woman.
When I last saw Winnie Halliday, we were teenagers from twoverydifferent walks of life.I was an underfunded public-school troublemaker, while she was a privileged, private-school princess.We had zero in common, and our paths were never meant to cross under normal circumstances.When they did, both of our lives erupted into chaos.There were wounds left on us to varying degrees; we parted bloody and broken.They were the type of injuries that still bled all these years later when poked and prodded.
I was sloppy drunk.Inebriated to the point that the face in front of me and the concerned eyes that I remembered being laced with gold were blurry and different from the ones in my memory.The Winnie in my fuzzy recollections was a skinny, frail, and shy young woman.It was obvious to anyone who looked at her that she’d been raised with exceptional privilege and had outstanding opportunities.
Everything about her screamed fragility and breakability.She was so well insulated by her billionaire family that no one could get close enough to her to cause any lasting damage.It made people want to harm her just to say they were the only ones who could.In a family like the Hallidays, one had to be on guard against those closest to them because they were the ones with the most to lose.Winnie lost her parents to family infighting and nearly lost her life when another branch decided she was better perceived as leverage than as a beloved grandchild.It made sense that she was no longer someone with wide-eyed innocence and a sheltered demeanor after all she’d survived.
The woman across from me, be she real or a figment of my drunken imagination, no longer seemed so brittle that she would crumble and blow away with a strong breeze.
Her elegant features looked softer on a face that had filled out and become rounded and slightly plump.Her hair was redder than I remembered.It was bright and vibrant in the dingy pub.Her hands were clutching a black bag that I was certain was something designer and priced at an amount that would make the average person want to throw up.I wasn’t exactly destitute anymore, but growing up dirt poor meant I developed a sixth sense for the things in life that were far out of my price range and seemed wasteful.Even though I’d made a small fortune over the years playing professional football, it would never come close to what Winnie Halliday was worth.
“I thought I saw you in Barcelona last year.”I lifted the pint glass and took a healthy swig.My words slurred together, but she didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was beyond caring about my sorry state.“And I’m sure I caught sight of you in Rome the year before that.”I squinted and tried to bring her into focus, but I still saw three pretty, frowning faces.“Call me crazy, but you were also there in Brazil and in Paris the last time I went home to see my mom once she relocated to France.I know the rich have ample leisure time but following me around the world like a lost dog,” I picked the beer up and smirked at the heiress across from me, “is not a good look, Winnie.Unless you’ve been keeping track of me so you can enact your revenge from that night, or you’ve suddenly become an avid football fan, there’s no reason for you to keep tabs on me.”
“That night,” Winnie leaned on the table.Her expression was intense, but all I could focus on was the way the neck of her lacy top gaped open and revealed the delicate curve of her collarbone.She always had a snowy white complexion, but now her creamy skin was dotted with freckles like she’d been spending a lot of time in the sun.It was probably easier for her to move unnoticed in Europe.She didn’t have to stay confined to secure buildings and locations while abroad.“Did you help my grandfather kidnap me, Ky?Did you tell him about the drydock and help him escape on the ferry?”
That wasthequestion.
Was I capable of helping her grandfather, who was an unrepentant schemer and philanderer, organize and arrange a kidnapping that defied multiple levels of law enforcement, and one of the wealthiest families in the world?Afterall, there was no way Winnie would’ve trusted the old conman unless I encouraged her to give him a chance, despite everyone else in her life warning her to steer clear.
The one that lingered between us.The one thing Winnie’s very rich uncle didn’t bother to ask and instead, paid my mother more money than either of us could imagine to leave the city.And Winnie.I was never supposed to look back.Those were questions I never wanted to answer for anyone because it meant whoever was asking believed I had it in me to leverage my budding relationship with the naïve Winnie into a nearly deadly trap that involved kidnapping and extortion.I was poor and stubborn, but I’d never thought I gave the impression I was heartless and cruel.I cared about Winnie, the best I was able at the time.
Clearly my best wasn’t enough, because she still wanted answers to those questions from so long ago.
I’d rather she ask me why I’d been kicked off my current team and banned from playing professionally from this point forward.That felt like it might be an easier conversation to have.
“Doyouthink I helped that old man kidnap you, Winnie?”I tossed the question back at her, almost instantly forgetting that she blatantly ignored my accusation that she was stalking me around the globe and following my every move.
I’d been playing football at the professional level since I was a teenager.It was my dream to play for one of the premier football leagues.With Winnie’s uncle willing to do anything to keep me away from her, it was only a matter of a handshake to get me on the pitch and ensconced on a team that offered me the opportunity to play my way up.
I busted my ass and never complained when I was benched or traded.I jumped from league to league, traveling from country to country.I practiced my ass off and tried to make myself unbeatable and unstoppable.I made a bit of a name for myself, finally started to see results, and just recently got the call that I was getting pulled up to one of the teams in Portugal’s professional league, the Primeira Liga.I thought that all my dreams were coming true, and all my hustle and heartache were finally worth it.I should’ve known that guys like me never got what they wished for in the end.
Winnie’s death grip on her bag relaxed, and her expression smoothed out.“You are excellent at ruining a good thing when you’ve got it, Ky.I may never know what part you played that night, but I’ve been watching you systematically destroy your biggest love to cover for your mother, so I do believe youcould’vehelped him if you thought it was your only option.”
I couldn’t argue with any of what she said.
I was capable of almostanythingif the ends justified the means.Which is what led me to being on the cusp of getting everything I’d ever wanted and royally fucking it up beyond repair.
I was twenty-two years old, one of the few American-born players who managed to break through into different international leagues.I was weeks away from being a starting player on a Premier League team when it all disappeared under fierce accusations of gambling and match fixing.It wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill gambling, but gambling against my own teams and games.Currently, I was under a FIFA investigation for intentionally throwing games so I could bet heavily on the winning team and take home a windfall by stacking the odds in favor of the opposing team.The stigma of gambling was already enough to tank my career.When you added in the fact that I was dragging all the people who gave me a chance and boosted me up each time I fell into the muck and mire on my way to the top, fans of the sport were ready to convict me and condemn me before the investigation got started.I was the most hated man who had ever stepped onto the pitch.
I was a pariah.
Even if my name were cleared, nobody would let me play for them.No team was ever going to trust me.There were zero fans who would dare support me.
The minute any team I was part of lost, even if it had nothing to do with me, I would be the scapegoat.I’d forever carry the success and failure on my shoulders, even though it was a team sport.I was a ready-made example of why it was so hard for foreigners to play on the international stage and the ideal lesson for up-and-coming players in what not to do.My entire life had been building to this point, and now the hard-won opportunity was snatched away before I even got the chance to fight for it.
It was fitting that Winnie was here to witness me losing everything that mattered to me.My fucked-up karma meant she obviously needed to have front-row seats to my downfall.Honestly, no one deserved it more.
I gestured for a refill and something stronger.The lukewarm beer sat heavily in my gut and wasn’t giving quite the burn I needed to forget everything.
We sat in silence until the round arrived.I blinked in surprise when Winnie reached for the whiskey and tossed it back like a pro.This was a far cry from drinking out of expensive crystal and sipping high-end booze that ran hundreds of dollars per sip on a private jet.However, she didn’t even flinch and ordered another one before I even picked up my pint glass.
“What are you doing here, Winnie?I’m sure the heiress to Halliday Inc.has better things to do than play fangirl to a washed-up soccer player.”I lifted my eyebrows and smirked in her direction.“Or did you rush to Lisbon the second you heard I was under investigation?Are you here to grease the wheels of justice?Those figureheads at FIFA have a history of going wherever the money guides them.”It was nonsense.Once the gambling came to light, and the clear proof I was losing games on purpose was put in front of me, I knew my career was over, regardless of what the head of the organization found while investigating me.I would be lucky if I didn’t end up in a European jail when it was all said and done.
