Page 25 of Linebacker
“I kid you not,” I reply, tipping my head so I can look him directly in the eye. My voice is strong and determined when I address him further. “If you think your stupid, adolescent games are going to get you out of this Marshall, you are very much mistaken.” I keep eye contact while I reach forward, flick the handle, and open the door. “One hour.” I reaffirm, before I slip past him and into the hallway, leaving him behind.
CHAPTER21
Despite my authoritarian command at Mars, I’m still not convinced that he will show up. But ever hopeful, I make sure that everything is set for when he does. If he does.
I’ve been sat in my high-backed chair that’s strategically angled with the matching two-seater couch and armchair, all the while watching the hands click around the wall clock for the last five minutes. I know it’s accurate within a second or two, which means it leaves Mars only three minutes until his sixty-minute deadline is up.
Not a minute more, nor a minute less, a pounding on the door makes me jump and rush with excitement in equal measure.
“Come in,” I shout, even though the door is already opening. Cheeky fecker.
Mars steps into the room. His back is rigid, his chest puffed and instantly I know that his walls are up, and this is not going to be easy. Then again, I wasn’t expecting it to be.
“Take a seat, Marshall,” I gesture to the seating opposite me while keeping my eyes firmly on the open folder in my lap. He doesn’t utter a word, but I hear the squeak of the soles of his trainers on the polished hardwood floor, as he moves into the room. When I raise my gaze just enough to can see his movements, as I would have predicted, he goes to the single chair, rather than the more comfortable couch, which would have been less restricting for his stature. Once seated, his broad shoulders fill the whole back of the chair, leaving very little space between his t-shirt clad biceps and the leather.
“I’m sure that you’re aware of why these sessions have been arranged and what we hope to achieve from them.” I tilt my head slightly; a subtle smile lingers on my lips as I do my best to defuse the building tension in the air.
“No idea,” he replies apathetically. “Enlighten me.”
I lean back into the chair, bringing my full attention to him, closing the file but leaving it still resting in my lap.
“Coach has already discussed this with you, I’m sure. But if you want me to explain again, then I’m more than happy to do so, if that’s what you want?”
“Knock yourself out.” He’s doing his best to keep his emotions under wraps. Still, the way his arms are laid along the chair arms, his big hands cupping the end, and the rhythmic tapping of his index finger on his left hand against the leather, tell me that he’s not as cool and collected as his voice and the rest of his body portrays.
I really want to bark at him that he’s being a total childish dick and to get a grip, but I need to be professional about this and take out of the equation that this is Mars, and treat him like any other referral. However, I’m not going to pull any punches.
“The objective of these therapy sessions is to identify the reason behind your behaviour and work towards a resolution that will benefit you and your life going forward. The club is extremely concerned about your recent conduct and how it seems to be escalating. It reflects badly on both you and the club.”
“And the club reckon you’re the person to do that, huh?” he sniggers mockingly. “My conduct, as you so call it, is impeccable. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve given away yardage while I’ve been playing for the Longhorns and I’ve yet to pick up a fine, so this is all bollocks.”
“The way you handle yourself on the field is not in question here, Marshall,” I clarify firmly. “It’s what you get up to in your private life.”
“Exactly,” he fires back. “Private life, which is my business and nobody else’s.”
I let out a deep sigh. “You know that’s not true,” I fail to hide the hint of sympathy in my voice, so I quickly continue. “When you are a hugely public figure, which you can’t deny that you are, and have been for the past couple of years, every move you make on or off the field is there for everyone to see.”
“You mean what they see in the papers, splashed across the news,” he sniggers. “People don’t believe that crap, because half of it is total bollocks anyway.”
“Only half?” I shoot back with a raised brow. “Unfortunately, people do believe it.”
“I don’t see why I should have to change,” he opposes, bringing his arms up across his chest in defiance. “It’s not like I’m hurting anyone.”
“But what the public see, including the younger generation that look up to you like you’re some demi-god, is that it’s fine to get legless, whore around and treat women with very little respect.”
“I respect women,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
“What, for one night only? You’ve never been seen with the same woman twice,” I reprimand. “You might not have quick fumbles on the field, but you sure as hell have a lot away from it.”
“What’s up, Hope-less, are you jealous because you’re not getting any? Didn’t Bartender boy give you a seeing to?”
I really didn’t want to rise to his downright obnoxiousness, but I sure as hell ain’t going to sit here, however much I’m trying to stay professional, and take this disrespectful bullshit from him. Especially, while using the name that brings back memories of bullying and pain. Despite all this, I keep my voice level when I address him.
“First of all, jealous of your constant stream of one and done women? I don’t think so. Two, you do not get to question my sex life, seeing as unlike yours, it’s not splashed around by the paparazzi for all to see. Never going to happen, so not up for discussion and certainly no concern of yours.”
Although the barman was cute and a bit charming, I had no intention of contacting him, but now. Maybe I should. Why? Who knows, but Mars mentioning it, plus the comment he made in the bar, makes me think that if I did, he wouldn’t be too happy about it. Interesting!
I hold up my pointed index finger to stop Mars from speaking when he opens his mouth, ready to spout out a come back at me. I take a couple of breaths, then finish what I so eagerly need to get off my chest. “Lastly, quit the bully tactics, Marshall. Referring to me as Hope-less no longer has the effect that you look for. I’m no longer the easy target, I’m all grown up now, and if I’m not mistaken, you should be too. But as yet, despite your size and manly stature, all I’ve witnessed is pubescent, childishness.”
