Page 7 of Sweeper
I cringe. “You don’t have a car, do you?”
“I do.” She eyes me cautiously.
“Well, maybe Soccer Boy can ride you sometime?” My eyes widen as her face turns hard. “Fuck, that came out wrong. Shit.”Jesus, I need sleep. Or medication. Maybe even an exorcism.
Rolling her eyes, she turns to walk toward the large brownstone building, and I wonder if I should even bother following her or just throw myself in front of one of the red double-decker buses. She’d probably like to push me at this point.
When we reach the door, she replies, “You can go with me on my next trip. One time.”
I exhale at that small sign of compassion while she opens the door and moves inside. I try not to stare at her ass as we lug the suitcases up three flights of stairs. I guess asking for a building with an elevator wasn’t something I even thought about. I didn’t consider a lot of things when I signed that contract…except maybe backing out altogether and pretending that stupid letter never existed.
Daphney rounds the landing and stops at the door with a seven on it. “This is you.”
“My lucky number.” I smile like a dope. “What’s yours?”
A quizzical look mars her face. “Don’t really have one.”
Shut up, Zander. You sound like a fucking weirdo. I grimace and prop myself against the wall for support. “I swear I’m not usually like this.”
She holds her hands out for my keys and uses them to unlock the door. “This building used to be a biscuit factory, so all the flats are sort of misshaped and studio-style. This is the corner unit with twenty-foot ceilings. It also has the best view, so I think you’ll be pleased.”
I shuffle the suitcases over to the side, and my eyes go wide as I take in the space that I did not at all envision. To be fair, I didn’t envision much. It was Jude’s idea for me to negotiate lodgings because my head was such a mess over whether I should even sign with Bethnal Green. I couldn’t even imagine what my life would look like in London. But if it’s anything like this, I think I’m going to be looking pretty good.
The apartment has large industrial windows that overlook the main road and the side road that goes alongside the Old George beer garden Daphney mentioned earlier. The warm, earthy décor has knotty pine flooring and exposed metal beams. It’s completely different from my modern high-rise in Seattle. A bit smaller but very open so it feels spacious.
A king-sized bed sits in front of the windows on the left overlooking Old George. A couple of giant cream privacy curtains hang from the pipes above to close off the windows. It’ll be nice not to feel like I’m living in a fishbowl twenty-four seven. The bedroom flows into the dining and living area. Off the living room is the kitchen, fashioned with white subway tile, stainless steel appliances, and a glossy wooden breakfast bar dividing the living room and the kitchen.
I point at the flat screen in front of the chocolate-colored sectional sofa. “Is that an Xbox?”
“Yes, it is.” Daphney’s eyes narrow. “Hopefully, you didn’t prefer PlayStation. We tried to get more information about what you wanted, but you were so hard to reach.”
I shake my head quickly. “Xbox is cool.”
She exhales. “Okay, good. There are games in the console below. The club got access to next year’s FIFA footy video game early, so you might want to check that out. The PR person told me they might hit you up for social media promotions.”
“Okay.” I nod and turn my hat around, my brows furrowing at her earlier remark. “It was hard to get ahold of me?”
She blinks curiously at me, her blue eyes still distracting. “Yes, well, you didn’t have an agent for us to contact, and you were supposed to come six months ago, so we were rushing around like crazy to get this space furnished. Then all of a sudden, they said you weren’t coming right away, so we had more time.”
“Oh…right.” I bite my tongue as I recall several contract revisions with the club lawyer, Santino. They were really frustrated that I represented myself because I had no clue what I was doing. And then when I asked to delay my transfer, I was worried it was all going to hell.
Signing with Seattle was so much easier because I had my dad’s help. He took care of all my contract negotiations, my money, sponsorships, everything. Jerry Williams knew the business side of soccer inside and out, and what he didn’t know, he researched fervently. To hire some random agent so soon after my dad passed felt like I was betraying him, so I just limped through it all on my own.
I clear my throat and grip the back of my neck, not wanting to explain how it was my first time negotiating a contract without my dad’s help. “Sorry about the delay. Contract stuff is complicated.”
“I can imagine,” Daphney replies, that dimple under her lower lip re-appearing. “Anyway, the loo is through that door.” She points at the closed door adjacent to the bed. “Since we had extra time, we were able to upgrade it, so it’s fully situated with a shower/tub combo and a steamer. I’m told that’s good for footballers. And…oh…if you stand right over here.” She moves past me to stand beside the large, perfectly made bed with more throw pillows than I ever would have picked out. “You can see your pitch, Tower Park.”
I leave the bags by the kitchen and join her to see the view of the place I’ll be playing soccer at in a matter of hours. It feels surreal that I’m actually in London, getting ready to play for the Premier League. Dad would be so damn proud of me, even if Mom isn’t. A deep pain niggles inside my gut.
Daphney nudges me with her elbow. “Pitch is British for a soccer field, in case you didn’t know.”
I smile gratefully at her joke. “Believe it or not, I actually knew you guys call it a pitch.” I shoot her a wink, and her eyes glance at my lips, causing a damn near aggressive reaction to happen in my jeans.
She licks her lips and adds, “On match nights, when Tower Park is lit up, this is a great view.” Her eyes narrow. “But I suppose you’ll be out there when that’s happening, so you’ll have a much better view.”
I watch her inquisitively. “Do you actually like…football?” I catch myself before saying soccer.
“I’m British. We’re pretty much born loving football.” She huffs knowingly as she runs a hand through her hair. “I can’t say I’m a Bethnal Green fan, though. But I’ve been living in Bethnal for about a year now, and hearing the locals describe the FA Cup win you guys had a couple of years ago definitely warmed the team to me. Not just because I’m chasing wins but because Bethnal Green really plays with spirit. I’m excited to see if they can re-claim their title this season. Your club is the ultimate Cinderella story. Rags to riches without the pompous overpriced egos of a longtime Premier League club with the ridiculous player budgets. “They’re the people’s team, you know? They even made me consider cheating on my precious West Ham, but I’m not a fickle fan, so never repeat anything of what I just said to you, or I’ll have you beaten and evicted. I know people.”
