Page 71 of Sweeper
“Teddy is loose!” Vaughn yells, and a woman with short blonde hair that I recognize as Booker’s wife, Poppy, nods and rushes quickly out the door. Vaughn redirects his gaze to me. “Glad you could join us, Zander. Daphney has become a good friend of the family since she moved to Bethnal Green.”
I look at the other side of the room to see Daphney holding her niece Rocky, who I met at the pub when I first arrived in London. Her brother Hayden is frowning at me, and I do my best to redirect my attention to Vaughn. The less I look at Daphney or her brother today, the better.
“Well, thank you for having me. I guess I’ve been feeling a bit homesick.”
“Of course, you have,” Vaughn nods thoughtfully and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Let me introduce you to everyone properly.”
The Harris family is a fertile breed. First, I meet Camden, Tanner’s twin brother. He’s killing it as a striker for Arsenal, and I obviously already knew his wife, Indie, since she’s the team doctor. But I hadn’t met their two children. They have a daughter Bex, who’s two, and their son, Porter, who’s one. Porter has red hair just like his mother and seems to have a challenging spirit like his dad.
Then I met Booker and Poppy’s other little boy, Oliver. He was the one on the countertop in the kitchen. Their twins are five years old and have been playing football since they were three.
After that, Vaughn drags me over to his daughter, Vi, who looks really busy at the stove. She’s the mother of the little girl named Rocky who I met when Hayden gave me the keys to my apartment at Old George. Vi chats with me for a bit about all the work that Daphney does in the building. It felt like a bit of an overshare when she said Daphney saved her and Hayden’s marriage by taking over the building maintenance.
She begins to ask me about how I’m adjusting to London when I’m turned around and being clapped on the back by my teammate, Roan DeWalt. I’d completely forgotten that his wife, Allie, is a cousin to the Harris Brothers. Apparently, her dad is Vaughn’s brother and still lives in the States. Their little guy, Neo, is turning one soon.
A couple of unfamiliar faces that I’m introduced to next are Mac Logan, who was the former midfielder for Bethnal Green, and his wife, Freya. They look like a cartoon family with their trifecta of ginger hair, even down to their newborn little guy, Fergie. I heard a lot about Mac’s career for the club when I first arrived at Bethnal Green. Mostly from Knight because they play the same position, and Knight idolized Mac. Mac says he’s happily retired now, though.
Finally, I meet Gareth, the eldest of the Harris Brothers, and to say he’s not intimidating would be a total lie.
“How are you adjusting to Premier League?” he asks, his eyes severe on mine as he offers me a chair at the table beside him.
I hesitate to take it, feeling a bit like I’m about to be interrogated. “It was a struggle at first, but I’m catching up, I think.”
“America doesn’t give enough attention to football…the real football I mean.”
“Yeah, I came over here for a camp when I was younger, and it about killed me.”
“I’ve been trying to expand my youth program called Kids Kickers into the States. Perhaps you have some contacts over there that you could introduce me to?” Gareth eyes me, and even though it’s a question, it feels a bit more like a demand.
“Yeah, maybe,” I reply hesitantly.
“And I’d love to have you volunteer at a camp. The kids would get a kick out of an American.” Gareth smiles and nods.
“Sure, yeah, I can do that.” I smile back politely.
Gareth eyes me again for a moment. “I’m sorry, but you look really familiar. How old are you?”
I swallow nervously. “Twenty-five.”
He scoffs. “I’m way too much older than you to have gone to that camp with you then.”
“Yeah,” I croak, doing my best to ignore the eerie sensation that I think we kind of look alike. I clear my throat and change the subject. “Any regrets on retiring?”
“No.” Gareth scoffs and waves over a chestnut-haired woman with a little boy on her hip. “My wife, Sloan, and I are busy enough managing our kids. Our daughter, Sophia, is twelve, and she has serious feet, so I’m coaching her team. We’re traveling all over for her football schedule now. It’s very time-consuming.”
“Is that right?” I smile up at Sloan as I shake her hand when she offers it.
“He failed to mention he scared away the last coach of her team.” Her American accent is obvious as she slides unamused eyes over to her husband. “The poor guy quit in the middle of their first game.”
“Only because he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing!” Gareth snaps.
“Uncle Gareth!” Rocky coos, pointing at his mouth. “Swear jar.”
Gareth’s jaw looks taut as he digs into his pocket and sticks a bill into the jar full of money.
Tanner appears beside me out of nowhere. “Most of the money in that jar is mine. I’ve got the dirtiest mouth of this family. Can you imagine that, Williams?”
“I can actually,” I laugh heartily.
