Page 88 of Playing for Possession
Rob tapped the paper with his finger. “Congratulations, here we are. Calverdale is getting all the press.” His eyes blazed with anger. “Shame it’s all on the front page, considering the sports news is supposed to be at the bloody back.”
Silence engulfed me. What was I supposed to say? This was likely to be my last day at Calverdale. I just wanted to get out of here so I could figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do with my life now.
At least Joanie would be happy to see the back of me. She didn’t want my apology. She wouldn’t answer my calls. How was I supposed to win her back if she wouldn’t let me talk to her? My stomach churned.
A knock sounded at the door. Who now? Why had Rob invited an audience to applaud me getting the boot?
“Come in,” Rob called.
The door opened and a bruised and battered Sean Wallace stepped inside. He was followed by a stocky older man with sandy hair, a grizzled beard, and stern eyes. Adam Wallace. What a party. I was about to get sacked in front of my brother’s pop star boyfriend, the captain I’d punched, and two members of the board, one of them a rock legend and the other a former England captain. They would have made a great lineup for a celebrity panel show. Instead, Rob had gathered them together as a firing squad.
Rob lifted his gaze. “We’re going to run out of chairs.”
“I’ll stand.” Sean’s dad positioned himself by the window at the opposite corner to Mortimer. Sean slipped into the seat next to me.
Rob steepled his hands in front of his chin. His face was a mask of barely concealed disdain. “I’ve seen a lot in my thirty years in this business, but I’ve never had to deal with a shitshow like this. A public punch-up between players on the same team?”
Sean kept his eyes fixed ahead on the coaching certificates that hung on the wall behind Rob. His face was even worse than mine. Bruises of every color smattered his cheeks. One of his eyes was puffy and half closed. His nose looked crooked. A wave of guilt made my shoulders heavy. He’d made a mess of my face, but I hadn’t realized how badly I’d rearranged his. I hadn’t meant to. A red mist had descended, and I’d lost my shit.
Sean had called me a brainless thug, and instead of taking the higher ground, I’d proven him right. It sickened me. I hadn’t been able to control my temper. Violence solved nothing. This wasn’t the man I wanted to be. I wanted to be better.
I drew a breath. “You look like shit, Sean. I’m sorry.”
Sean’s eyebrow hitched, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead.
“I’m sorry, too.” Mortimer’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m only sorry you didn’t hit him harder. I had an interesting conversation with Jack Earnshaw this morning.”
I looked at him in surprise.
Mortimer’s hand shook as he smoothed his thick hair. “How dare you threaten to drag my son’s name through the press?” He shifted his gaze to Ollie and his eyes softened. “I’m proud of my boy. He’s got nothing to be ashamed of. I heard about what you said, Sean, and I won’t let this slide.”
Sean shifted in his seat and looked everywhere but at the rock star glowering in the corner.
Rob tapped his lips. “I’ve heard some disturbing things about what went on yesterday, and I don’t tolerate bullying, Wallace. Everyone in that locker room deserves respect. What goes on in someone’s private life stays private. You don’t make threats against your own teammates.”
Sean’s lips thinned. “This has been blown out of proportion. I was drunk. I don’t know why everyone’s getting all wound up.”
“This wasn’t a one-off. You’ve been threatening this for months,” I said.
He chuckled nastily. “Can’t take a bit of banter, Earnshaw? I’m speaking the truth, anyway.”
Ollie cut him a sharp glance. “It’s not your place to speak it.”
Sean’s one good eye narrowed. “Earnshaw threw the first punch. He broke my fucking nose. I had a shoot for Calvin Klein next week and I’ve had to cancel. I suppose you can send Earnshaw in my place like you did for that commercial.”
That’s what this was all about: Sean’s jealousy. It had damaged his ego when he hadn’t got to parade around drinking Fizzz.
“I didn’t want to do that fucking commercial. You’re welcome to my lifetime supply of Fizzz, though, if you’re that desperate,” I said.
Rob leaned back in his chair. “I don’t condone violence, but I suppose a punch to the face was one way to shut you up. You’re no captain, Sean. You need to step down.”
Sean’s voice was low and dangerous. “I’m the best player you’ve got.”
Rob sighed. “Maybe so. That’s why I can’t kick you out of here, but it doesn’t mean you’re the captain. You’ve lost the respect of the team. We’re all sick of your behavior. I don’t want a team full of egos and superstars. Everyone is equal.”
“I’m the captain. You can’t take that away from me.” Sean shot out of his chair. “Screw this. I don’t give a fuck about any of this. I’m the best player in the Premier League. I could walk into any club in Europe, and they’d drop to their knees and beg me to sign.”
“If only you would,” Rob said quietly. “That’s the only way I can ever see myself getting rid of you.”
