Final Score

by Michelle Betham

  ‘We are getting married,’ she whispered, resting her mouth against his, smiling, because he made her do that now. He made her smile. Gone were the days when he made her wary and confused; the days when she couldn’t trust him and needed him gone. Now he just made her smile.

  ‘I love you, Amber Sullivan.’

  ‘Oh, God, I love you, too… you have no idea,’ she gasped, biting down on her lip as his hand slid just a touch up under her dress, briefly stroking her thigh before pulling away. ‘I love, love, love you, too!’

  He kissed her again, another long, slow kiss that caused her stomach to flip, her head to spin, and her body to melt against him. But she knew if she didn’t stop this soon she’d be nowhere near ready for live TV. So no matter how little she felt like doing it now, she had to leave him alone and switch back to being the sports reporter she had to be tonight.

  ‘Everything okay with the squad?’ she asked, changing the subject as she gently pushed him away again, going back over to her desk.

  Jim looked at her, frowning slightly. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Well,’ she began, turning around and leaning back against her desk. ‘You have precisely three games left in charge of Newcastle Red Star, so, I just wondered if that’s unsettling anyone.’

  By anyone, did she mean Ryan?

  ‘No. It isn’t. Everyone’s focused on the job in hand. The fact the club have a replacement ready to take over as soon as I leave is a bonus. It means it won’t be too long before they’re all used to a new manager.’

  ‘He’s not as proven a manager as you are, though, is he? I mean, Dave French has a great reputation, but he hasn’t won any titles or any silverware for any of the clubs he’s been in charge of before.’

  Jim shrugged. He didn’t really feel much like talking about this right now. ‘He’s a good manager. And he’s bringing some great backroom staff with him.’

  ‘Just as well, seeing as you’re bringing all of yours with you to Endleigh.’

  Jim watched her as she buzzed around the office, checking over papers, her pretty face bent over her running order, her mind now focused on her work, and he still marvelled at the way she could do that – switch from being the sexiest woman alive to the most professional presenter he’d ever seen in an instant. It was a huge turn-on.

  ‘Colin’s my right-hand man, Amber. I need him.’

  She looked up from her papers and smiled. ‘Yeah. I know you do.’

  He really didn’t want to tell her what Ryan had told him yesterday. Part of him hoped he was only calling his bluff, but Jim wasn’t naïve enough to think that was the case any more. Rico was very real, and Ryan loved that baby, even Jim could see that. If Rico didn’t exist then, yes, maybe Ryan could be accused of playing mind games. But not this time. This time Jim knew he was serious. And he knew he couldn’t really keep it from Amber. She worked within the world of football. Her job meant that she was going to be one of the first to hear about Ryan’s intended transfer request, and he needed her to hear it from him, not through information sent to her via email.

  ‘Amber?’

  She looked up again. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Ryan’s going to put in a transfer request.’

  Her eyes lowered back down to the papers she was holding, as though she’d just dismissed what he’d told her as nothing important.

  ‘Baby, did you hear what I said?’

  She nodded, carefully laying the papers down on her desk. ‘He wants to move down here.’ It wasn’t a question, because it didn’t have to be. She already knew the answer.

  ‘He wants to be closer to Rico, yes.’

  She looked up, her eyes meeting his. ‘Then what is the point of us doing all of this, Jim? If he’s just going to follow us down here, then what is the point of us leaving the north-east?’

  ‘Come here.’

  She let him pull her between his legs as he stayed sitting on the edge of her desk.

  ‘There is every point, Amber. This is still a brand-new start for us…’

  ‘I want to get married in Vegas.’

  He looked at her, completely taken aback by what she’d just said. ‘You… want to get married in Vegas?’

  ‘I don’t want a big celebrity wedding, Jim. I don’t want any of that; the whole idea fills me with utter dread. I don’t want to be under the spotlight on a day that is supposed to be about you and me. And I know you said you wanted to do it properly this time but that isn’t doing it properly, not really.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘So, let’s go to Vegas. You’ve got a few days off between your last game at Red Star and your first with Endleigh, so, let’s go to Vegas. And let’s get married. Let’s have a day that’s just about you and me before we have to start dealing with any more crap, because I need that, Jim. I really need that.’

  That totally unexpected outburst had taken him completely by surprise, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised she was probably right. Some time alone, just the two of them, would be good. Because they weren’t going to get all that much of it once he took over the reins at Endleigh United. ‘Then we’re going to Vegas, baby!’

  She laughed, and it was a sound that made Jim realise he just couldn’t lose this woman, not again. He wasn’t strong enough. Ryan Fisher may have once more moved the goalposts, but Jim had every intention of putting them right back where they belonged.

  *

  ‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’ Max stared at Ryan as though he’d just told him the most ridiculous thing ever. Which he had, in Max’s eyes.

  ‘You want me to stay at Newcastle Red Star? Hundreds of miles away from my son? Is that what you want?’

  ‘I want you to have a career, Ryan, that’s what I want. Something which you seem intent on fucking up – again.’

  Ryan stared at his agent through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Oh, don’t give me that innocent look, son. I know. I know you had “one of those nights.” I know you turned up late to training looking like you hadn’t slept, which you probably hadn’t, because you were up all night playing blackjack and fucking random women in one of The Goldman’s more expensive suites, flashing cash around like it was going out of fashion. Are we revisiting those old days, Ryan? Hmm? Are we?’

  Ryan couldn’t say anything. He felt like he’d just been reprimanded by a particularly irate head teacher. ‘Jesus, Max, you might take a percentage of my earnings but it doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like I’m twelve years old.’

  ‘Then stop acting like it. Grow the fuck up, Ryan, and get back to acting like an adult. You were well on your way to actually doing that, so let’s not have another relapse, okay?’

  ‘It was one night, Max.’

  ‘And one night leads to another. That’s how it all started before…’

  ‘I’m not going there again, alright? It was one night.’

  Max raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  Ryan sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. ‘I’m still putting in a transfer request.’

  ‘You’re crazy. You are a superstar in the north-east, Ryan, a local hero. Your future is sorted with Newcastle Red Star. And I can completely understand why you feel you need to be…’

  ‘There must be at least one of the big London clubs interested.’

  ‘Oh, I have no doubt that quite a few of them would probably pay a ridiculous amount of money to bring you back down south, but I don’t think you should be going anywhere. And besides, you’re still under contract until the summer. Look, if you really want to move why not wait until the end of the season? You can just walk out of Red Star and into any other club you want, because they’ll be standing there waiting with open arms, I can guarantee that.’

  ‘I don’t want to wait, Max. I can’t hang on until the summer, I can’t.’

  Max sighed. ‘You really don’t make my life easy. You’re settled in Newcastle, Ryan. You have a life there, why uproot it all and start all over again? Because I’m not st
upid. I know you want to be close to Rico, I get that. But is he the only reason you want to move?’

  Ryan sat down on one of the oversized black suede couches that graced the bar of the hotel the team were staying at. ‘She’s his mum, Max. She comes with him whether I want that or not.’

  ‘And? Do you want it?’

  Ryan looked at Max, an expression of total bewilderment on his face. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I’ve just told you…’

  ‘You still in love with her?’

  ‘No.’ A lie.

  ‘Then deal with the fact she’s bringing your child down here, know that she isn’t taking him away from you…’

  ‘I can’t deal with Jim Allen bringing him up, Max. I can’t deal with that.’

  Max sat down on the coffee table opposite Ryan, clasping his hands between his knees. ‘You’re going to have to, kiddo. Whether you like it or not.’

  Ryan sat forward, copying Max’s stance. ‘Y’know, you can sit there and lecture me all night about how nothing’s really going to change and how Amber won’t ever let Rico forget I’m his dad and any other crap you want to tell me, but it doesn’t matter. If I stay up north, I lose a certain amount of control, and I’m not willing to do that. So, as my agent, I’m asking you, Max, to put the word out and find out who’s interested in Ryan Fisher. You got that?’

  ‘You’re playing this all wrong, Ryan.’

  ‘It’s the only way I know how to play it, Max. So just put the word out, okay? Please.’

  Max sighed again, getting up and shoving his hands in the pockets of his immaculately cut suit trousers. ‘Get to bed early, alright? If you’re putting yourself in that transfer shop window then you’re gonna need to show everyone out there you’re worth the money they should be paying for you.’

  Ryan threw himself back against the couch cushions as he watched Max head out of the bar. Checking the time, he saw it was only eight-thirty, but it wasn’t like he could go anywhere. Jim Allen had them all on hotel lock-down the night before a game, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d have Colin trawling the place to make sure they were all safely ensconced in their rooms, getting their heads down ready for the match tomorrow.

  Sighing heavily he pulled himself up off the couch and headed upstairs to his room. What else was there to do? He might as well try and chill out, watch a movie or something. Anything was better than sitting in a bar full of people he didn’t feel much like talking to, staring at alcohol he couldn’t drink.

  Once in his room he switched on the TV, kicking off his boots before throwing himself down on the bed, flicking through the channels until he arrived at Cloud Sports. And there she was, sitting on that familiar cobalt-blue couch in the Scoreline studio, dressed in a ridiculously sexy, knee-length, figure-hugging yellow dress and black, skyscraper-heeled ankle boots, those crazily long legs of hers crossed as she talked to Dave French, the man who was about to become his new boss once Jim Allen left Newcastle Red Star. He watched as she absentmindedly flicked that dark-red hair of hers back behind her shoulder, smiling at her interviewee, and Ryan felt a stabbing in his heart he was fast getting used to. Once again that urge to lose himself in a haze of alcohol and other substances crept over him, because it would never really go away, but he could control it now. He had to. Sure, he’d had that one night of reliving the bad old days, but even then he’d managed to keep it in check; he hadn’t taken it as far as he could have done, as he would have done in days gone by. But in days gone by he hadn’t had Rico. He hadn’t had a reason to be sober and in control. And now he did. So, although he felt like breaking every pre-match rule Jim Allen imposed, he’d suck it up and stay strong. For his boy. But it was hard, because Rico’s beautiful mum was looking down the camera now, those pale-blue eyes of hers staring into his as she spoke about Newcastle Red Star’s forthcoming televised game, leaning forward slightly over her still-crossed legs, the pen she was holding hanging loosely from her fingers – fingers that had touched him and held his hand and taken away all sorts of pain that he had to deal with alone now.

  He closed his eyes and remembered the day Rico had been born. He’d been at the training ground, knowing Amber had been about to go into labour any day and he’d thought he’d been prepared. But getting that call, hearing she was already at the hospital and being told that Rico wasn’t hanging around had made him realise just how unprepared he really had been. He’d driven like a maniac, and it had only been luck that he hadn’t been pulled over. He’d have done anything to make sure he didn’t miss seeing his child come into the world. And he’d only just made it. When he’d got there Amber was already pushing, her face tired but oh so beautiful. At that moment Ryan had never seen her look so beautiful. She’d been sitting up on the bed, wearing a bright-pink t-shirt, and the first thing she’d done when she’d seen him was hold out her hand, her eyes begging him to take it. And he’d held onto it; he’d held onto her as she’d pushed their baby boy into the world – the most incredible experience of his life. And he’d only just managed to be there to see it happen.

  A sharp rap at the door pulled him back from his thoughts, and he sighed, keeping his eyes closed. ‘I’m not in the mood for company, Gary.’

  ‘Then it’s just as well I’m not Gary, isn’t it?’

  His eyes shot open and he sat upright, pushing both hands through his hair as he got up off the bed. He walked over to the door and opened it slightly. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game, aren’t you? Hanging around here when you’re – allegedly – living with the boss’ son.’

  Ellen pushed past him into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. ‘As far as I’m aware, Jim Allen isn’t even here. He’s at home, with his fiancée.’ She turned to look at Ryan, flinging her jacket over the back of the chair next to the bed. ‘Isn’t he?’

  Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I really can’t be bothered to play hard to get, Ryan. I want you, you’re a free man now, so I might as well lay all my cards on the table and see where they fall.’

  Ryan frowned. ‘And what does that mean, exactly?’

  She walked over to him, playing with the collar of his shirt. ‘It means, if you want me, Ryan, I’m here. I’m all yours. Do what you want with me because…’ She moved her mouth closer to his, ‘I’m willing to try anything.’

  He pushed her away, but only with a touch. ‘You’re with somebody, Ellen.’

  She couldn’t help laughing. ‘And when has that bothered you?’

  ‘I’m a different man now, sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ She folded her arms as she noticed his gaze wander back to the TV. On-screen, Amber was busily wrapping up that evening’s edition of Scoreline, smiling down the camera as she said goodbye. That had been the hardest word Ryan had ever had to hear from her, and he felt his stomach dip as he knew she’d be leaving that studio and going back home to Jim. She’d be sleeping in his arms; he’d make love to her and hold her, and tell her everything Ryan still wished he could tell her but he swallowed it back, and turned to face Ellen again.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said, his eyes focusing on anything but her.

  ‘The boss isn’t around, Ryan, in case you hadn’t realised.’

  ‘Colin’s twice as bad for making sure we stick to the rules.’

  ‘You’re just throwing excuses around now.’

  Maybe she was right. She was there. Right there in front of him, offering him a chance to forget, to lose himself in something that would, for a short time anyway, numb the pain and stop him from thinking about things that were only confusing him. She could be the brief escape he needed right now.

  She moved closer again, gently stroking his face with her fingertips. ‘Look, I won’t tell if you won’t, okay? It can be our little secret.’

  He was ceasing to care now. This might be wrong, and the guilt would probably hit him head-on in the morning, but he needed the distraction.

  ‘I never have
agreed with this no-sex-before-a-match rubbish anyway,’ she whispered, slowly sliding the belt out of his jeans. ‘I mean, does it really matter?’

  He couldn’t help smiling as he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. ‘No. It really doesn’t matter.’

  She returned his smile, sliding her hands inside his shirt. ‘Well, let’s start breaking some rules, then, shall we?’

  And he wasn’t really in the mood for arguing.

  *

  Amber threw her bag down onto the table in the small and cosy hallway of the semi-detached house she and Jim had bought in north London just after she’d landed the job at Cloud Sports. The house they were now selling, because they had a new London home, thanks to Endleigh United’s generosity. A new home they’d be moving into very soon. But she liked this one. She liked the fact it was small and compact and felt cosy and comfortable. This house felt like a home. She wasn’t altogether sure that new one could ever feel that way.

  Giving out a small sigh, she turned to look at her reflection in the mirror over the hall table. She looked tired, but it had been a long day and tomorrow wasn’t looking as though it was going to be any shorter. She was in the Cloud Sports studios all day again, covering two out of the three live matches the network was featuring, and even though it was what she loved doing, her mind was on so many other things that she was finding it exhausting trying to concentrate at the minute. Christmas was just around the corner, Jim’s last match with Newcastle Red Star was less than a fortnight away, and then there was Vegas. She looked in the mirror again and smiled at that last thought. Las Vegas. She’d had no idea where that had come from, or why she’d suddenly decided that a Vegas wedding was what she wanted; she’d just known that she didn’t want a big, extravagant event where all eyes were on them. She really didn’t want that.

  She could hear the shower upstairs and she smiled again, running her fingers through her long, loose curls before making her way up to the bedroom.