Page 73 of Dominate
“Me too, Little Minnow. Me too.”
Sophia finishes Gareth’s nails and smiles big. “I’m all done!”
With a quick roll-over onto his back, Gareth sits up, careful not to bump his nails on anything as he checks out his new manicure. “Tell you what. I’ll leave two nails painted for the game tomorrow. One for you and one for your mum so that you guys know I’m thinking about you during my home match.”
“That’s perfect!” Sophia squeals happily and begins putting the nail polish away.
“Perhaps your mum will even let you come to a match one of these days.”
Sophia’s eyes fly wide and she turns to look right at me, like she knew I was standing here the whole time. “Can we, Mum? Can we?”
My face heats with embarrassment as Gareth gives me a look for shamelessly eavesdropping. I cross my arms and shrug. “Sure, we can go to a football game.”
“Yay! When?” Sophia asks, turning to Gareth, who smiles brightly at her.
“How about tomorrow?” Gareth waggles his fingers at me with a sexy smirk. “I got my nails done special for it.”
Old Trafford is insane on game day. With my experience styling loads of athletes and their wives or girlfriends, I knew what to expect for the crowds. Admittedly, though, I’ve never actually sat and watched a match in the WAGs section like I’m planning to do today. And I certainly never had Sophia in tow like I do now.
Sophia’s eyes are wide and flying all over the place as we make our way up to our seats. The music is loud, and the seventy thousand people filing into the park are positively buzzing with excitement. Even a non-soccer-fan like me can’t help but get caught up in the energy.
Old Trafford itself has always had an amazing sense of soul and history. You truly do feel like you’re a part of something special when you walk through the gates.
The WAGs section has a bit more subdued energy as Sophia and I find our seats. It’s full of women who are in no way kitted out in game day gear like Sophia and I. Instead, they are completely dolled up with full hair and makeup, high fashion outfits with killer high heels, and designer purses that cost more than my car payment.
They look fantastic.
I look like the mom who just spent two hundred pounds in the gift shop to buy a couple of jerseys with HARRIS written on the back to make her child happy.
There are a few other moms with children in tow, but the kids are so glued to their handheld devices, they don’t even notice the excitement buzzing around them.
I see a couple of my clients and wave to them. They politely wave back, but I can feel them eyeing me speculatively through their giant sunglasses. Then I see a client dressed exactly like me.
“Brandi!” I exclaim, helping Sophia into our row and finding our seats are right next to her. “I didn’t know you would be here!”
Brandi smiles and presses her finger over her lips to shush me. “Call me Layla here. I can’t let my teammates know I came to Hobo’s game in Man U gear.” She leans over to give me a hug and offers a wink to Sophia. “Although, I’m certain these WAGs have no idea who I am. Zero interest in women’s football, so they couldn’t give a toss if I’m here being a traitor.”
I laugh at her remark. “Surely you’re not a traitor since there are men’s and women’s leagues. They are hardly competing clubs.”
Brandi shakes her head. “You can’t use logic when it comes to football fans in England. And definitely not with City and United fans. Besides, there’s something really magical about the ol’ Theatre of Dreams here.”
“Theatre of Dreams?” I ask curiously. “What is that?”
“It’s a nickname for Old Trafford. There are several reasons it applies to this organisation. For example, ages ago, some railway workmen came together to play football and created Man U. That’s one way. Then, a while back, a plane crashed and killed eight players, but the club went on to reach the finals of the FA Cup that year. That’s another. There have been so many times this team has been down a goal or more, then ended up turning it all around. They’re called The Comeback Kings. It has a great spirit, this pitch. I’m still a proud City player but, bloody hell, it really is a theatre of dreams. Inspiring, don’t you think?”
Brandi looks down and points to Sophia, who’s watching her with starry-eyed wonder. “I see it.”
“See what?” I ask, gazing down at Sophia.
“She’s dreaming already. Aren’t you, kid?”
Sophia smiles a shy smile but nods up at Brandi, confirming her thoughts. Suddenly, music begins booming as the Man U players walk out onto the field, each holding the hand of a young child.
Brandi explains that Man U and many other European teams select various local schools, clubs, or youth winners of a tournament to walk out onto the pitch with the players. It sends an overall message that football makes a difference for children. Today, I notice all the children’s T-shirts have Kid Kickers scrawled across their chests, and my heart swells with pride to see Gareth’s organisation presented like this.
Gareth is holding the hand of the tiniest boy on the pitch. The little squirt is slowing down the entire line as he stares off up at the thousands of people surrounding the field.
Sophia tugs on my arm and whispers in my ear, “I want to walk out with Gareth someday, Mummy.”
