“Have you been to Monaco many times?” Ben asked him, and Si latched on to the distraction.
“A few. I’ve never really played tourist, though, so I probably haven’t seen half as much as I should have,” he admitted. Most of his visits had been in the company of teammates, either for official purposes, or for partying.
“So many people haven’t,” Ben agreed. “Léo had never even been to the Musée océanographique until I took him last year, and he’s been living here for years.”
Si blinked. Wasn’t that an aquarium? He looked at Léo, who shrugged and aimed a fond smile in Ben’s direction. “I haven’t either,” Si confessed. “To be honest, I never even thought of it. Usually when we came here, it was for parties.”
Ben shrugged. “That makes sense. No offense, but professional athletes are usually better known for partying than for cultural experiences.”
Si winced, but couldn’t disagree. “I like to think I’ve grown out of the partying phase of my life now, so maybe I can finally appreciate some of the other parts of Monaco. Like the restaurant tonight. I think I’ve been before—it’s at the Hôtel de Paris, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ben said. “Oh—I didn’t think, have you got a suit with you?”
Silence fell over the table, and Si’s stomach tensed with anticipation. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that he’d need a suit for dinner? He’d even been to the restaurant before, for fuck’s sake.
“No. If it weren’t for Lucien’s concierge, I wouldn’t even have clean underwear right now.” What the hell was he supposed to do? Politely decline dinner? Buy a suit? A tickle of excitement ran down his spine. He’d love a new suit—they were kind of a weakness—but would that seem overeager? Which would they expect of him? He sneaked a peek at Lucien, who was still focused on his plate. He was Lucien’s houseguest for the weekend, and Lucien was the kind of host who wouldn’t let him sit home alone while he went out. “I suppose I need to buy a suit today.” Hooray!
“Does this feel like déjà vu to anybody else?” Malik asked. Ben elbowed him.
“Shut up. Although….” He frowned. “There are few similarities, aren’t there?”
“Similarities?” Si asked, completely lost.
“The first time I went to Le Louis XV, I didn’t realize I’d need a suit until that day,” Ben explained.
Si blinked. “That is kind of weird,” he commented. “I guess that makes us both unprepared?”
Ben raised his glass in salute. “To being unprepared and scraping through anyway.”
“Are you drunk?” Léo asked his boyfriend. “You hate being unprepared.”
“Because I never know if I’ll scrape through,” Ben explained. “And no, I’m not drunk! I don’t get drunk anymore.”
Si wondered briefly how that could be when he’d seen with his own eyes Ben drinking the night before—and unless he was mistaken, sipping at a mimosa right at that moment. Never mind, he had other things to worry about.
“Can you recommend somewhere to get a suit at short notice?” Somewhere nice, he meant. There was no way he’d buy a suit off the rack, and although Monaco abounded with men’s clothing stores, finding somewhere that could tailor at the last minute wasn’t always so easy. Si was usually not fussy when it came to clothes, but he had to admit that over the years he’d become attached to custom tailoring for suits.
Fine, the truth was, he was a suit diva. His mother and sisters had taken to calling him Barney, after the suit-obsessed character from How I Met Your Mother. They just didn’t understand how a good-quality suit could….
Yeah, he just liked them.
“Carrere,” Malik said, and Si dropped his fork with a loud clatter. Carrere? He’d always wanted a Carrere suit, but Carrere made appointments only by referral and invitation, and Si had never known a Carrere client well enough to ask for an introduction. Could this be his chance?
“I didn’t know Carrere would do last-minute tailoring,” he said, trying to be casual as he picked up his fork, but he was pretty sure his face was red.
“He will if you go with Lucien. He loves Lucien.”
“Who loves me?” Lucien asked, and all heads turned toward him.
“Carrere,” Léo told him. “You’re back with us, are you?”
“I am. Why are we talking about Carrere?”
“Simon needs a suit for dinner tonight,” Ben announced. Lucien paused with his glass partway to his mouth.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he confessed. “We will go to Carrere directly after breakfast. My apologies, Simon.”
His cheeks were definitely red now—either that, or he had a sudden-onset fever. Had Lucien just apologized because Simon didn’t have a suit, and basically offered to fix it by taking him to the maestro of suits? Si was pretty sure his romance-novel-loving youngest sister would call that “swoonworthy.”
“It’s not your fault,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. “Er—so, what brilliant but supposedly expensive idea have you had?”
“And how much is it going to cost me?” Malik chipped in.
Lucien waved one hand while forking food into his mouth with the other. They waited, watching him, while he chewed and swallowed, and Si bit back the urge to laugh hysterically.
“Summer training camp,” Lucien finally said.
Si looked at Léo and Malik to see if maybe that was some sort of code. They looked just as blank as he felt.
“Yes, we talked about summer camps,” Si replied, trying to be patient. Maybe Lucien had drunk more than he’d realized last night and was a little hungover? “But since we don’t actually have anyone in the program yet, and as it’s already May, it’s unlikely we could get placements in time.”
Lucien shook his head. “No, I mean we should run our own camp. Not a full one, of course, but perhaps a week or two toward the end of the summer, when most of the other camps have wound up. It will allow us to build publicity for and launch the program, put all the participants in touch with each other, and raise additional funds by charging a fee for other young players to attend.”
Si sat back in his chair, processing. It wasn’t a bad idea. “What’s the incentive for fee-paying players to attend?” he asked. That was the only catch he could see right off.
Lucien, Malik, and Léo looked at him like he was a moron. “You are,” Malik said, his tone implying that perhaps Si needed help tying his own shoes. He blinked.
“Oh.” He did feel stupid now. He’d often made appearances and run short programs at youth training camps. Current and former professional players as coaches were one of the biggest attractions for the camps.
“Well, you and whoever of your footballer friends are willing to volunteer,” Lucien added. “I don’t think you could manage it alone.”
Shuddering at the mere thought, Si considered who he could ask. If the camp was going to be at the end of summer, it couldn’t be anyone still playing, although they might be able to make an appearance—maybe at the launch Lucien had spoken of. That still left quite a few people he could approach, though, including a former World Cup coach.
“I’ll put together a list,” he said, “and make some calls, see who would possibly be interested. Would we need permits and licenses? And where would we have it? Which country, I mean.”
“Paul will help with those details,” Lucien told him. “I’ll put it on his list for Monday morning. I think, given the time frame, we will need to pick the location based on how easy it would be to get the relevant permits.”
“Yes. And this also means you need to get the program up and running. You’ll want to begin publicity for the camp as soon as you can so as to get enrollments, but as soon as the camp is publicized, the program will be in the spotlight, and must be open for applications.” Léo frowned slightly. “As soon as you register and license, I can get the accounts set up.”
Lucien had pulled out his phone and appeared to be making notes. “Paul can do that on Monday, also,” he said, then stopped and loo
ked at Si. “Unless you want to do it, Simon?”
Si drew a deep breath. Did he want to register the program as a charitable body and ensure they were licensed to operate?
Hell yes.
He hadn’t realized it would matter, but it did. He wanted to be the one to fill out the forms and submit them, to take that next step to seeing this dream realized.
And somehow, Lucien knew that.
“I’ll do it.” His voice was a little husky. He cleared his throat. “But we need a name first.” That was one of the few details they hadn’t settled yet.
“What are the options?” Malik asked, and Si, who’d gone over the list so many times that he’d memorized it, rattled off the prospective names.
The silence that followed said it all. They were good, but none was perfect.
“What are you trying to say?” Ben asked. “The name has to be memorable, but it also needs to encapsulate your purpose. You’re working toward the future of soccer.”
“Football,” Si corrected absently, considering his words. Ben huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Whatever. The thing is, you’re empowering kids with talent to build a career, right? Giving them a chance at a future in sports that they might not otherwise be able to achieve. But while it all centers around socc—football, it’s also still a charity, and you want to attract people with money who know next to nothing about the sport.”
“Right,” Si said slowly, wondering where he was going with this.
“Don’t keep us in suspense, Ben,” Lucien urged. Ben flushed but continued.
“So most of the names you’re thinking of, those are sports terms, aren’t they? I mean, I’m guessing, because I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“They are,” Léo told him, and Ben nodded.
“Okay, so that’s good for everyone who loves s—football, but your cashed-up prospective donors might not all be fans. They might just be people looking for a tax break, and so the name has to catch their attention and give them some idea of what the charity does. ‘Give and Go’ is catchy, whatever it means, but it sounds like a drive-through charity. As a non-sports lover, I don’t immediately connect it to sport.”
Léo leaned over and kissed his boyfriend. “Sometimes I forget how amazing you are,” he murmured. “And then you remind me.”
A pang of longing took Si by surprise. Well, that’s new. He’d never particularly wished for a relationship or a happy ever after, always assuming it would happen when and if it was going to, but it seemed retirement was awakening new desires in him.
“Ben, you’re exactly right,” he said, pushing aside the sudden longing for a partner to lean on and have tell him that he was amazing.
“Yes,” Lucien added, looking chagrined. “We were so taken by the idea of a catchy football term that we overlooked the purpose of the name.”
Ben’s cheeks were flaming, but he grinned. “Well, it’s nice to know I can be useful sometimes. Now… names. You need a keyword that immediately brings football to mind, or at least sports. Play?”
“Ball,” Malik said decisively. “There are enough sports that use a ball that the word is almost synonymous with sport.”
“Ball, ball, ball….” Si chanted, trying to think of something catchy.
“Balls, balls, balls,” Malik murmured, a leering inflection to his tone that made them all laugh.
“You don’t even like balls that way,” Ben accused, throwing his napkin at Malik, who shrugged.
“It just came to me.” He winked.
“You’re not helping,” Lucien told him. “Concentrate.”
“Have a ball?” Malik offered, a wicked glint in his eye suggesting he was still not being entirely serious.
“I like that it suggests fun, but no,” Si said.
Léo snapped his fingers. “On the Ball.”
Click.
Si and Lucien looked at each other, and Lucien raised a brow. “It’s your baby,” he said, and Si grinned.
“On the Ball it is.”
Chapter Six
LUCIEN led Simon away from Carrere’s establishment and back toward his car. Well, it was closer to dragged than led. Who would have guessed that the usually casual ex-footballer would be so enamored of suits?
Simon was still chattering about fabric and cut, and Lucien smirked. In addition to begging for a quickly altered sample to wear to dinner, which they’d need to return for in a few hours, Simon had also ordered three new suits with shirts to match.
“Where are we going?” Simon asked, interrupting his own monologue on the benefits of couture tailoring as they walked past the garage where Lucien had parked the car.
“For a walk,” Lucien said vaguely. In actual fact, he wasn’t sure—passing the car had been an accident, but he wasn’t willing to admit that. It didn’t really matter where they went, as long as he got Simon away from the salon. As fond as he himself was of a well-tailored suit, he didn’t feel the need to spend all of a beautiful Saturday in Monaco weighing the merits of different suit linings. “To clear our heads,” he added.
Simon shrugged. “Right-oh,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. They strolled along for a few moments, Lucien wracking his brain for a possible destination. Monaco was only a few kilometers from end to end, and it wouldn’t be long until they were walking in France. Back to his apartment or the club? Or something else?
“I was thinking,” Simon began, and Lucien turned to him in relief. “We’re planning to promote the program through club teams, but what about kids who don’t even think about clubs because of the expense? They won’t have any contacts there who could tell them about scholarships.”
“So we need a wider profile, outside the football circle,” Lucien said slowly. “Schools? They don’t focus a lot on any one sport in physical education classes, but teachers should be able to spot anybody with outstanding ability. Or at the least, maybe there would be a notice board in the gym where a flyer for the program could be pinned.”
Simon nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. And community centers. They always have notice boards, and since they usually offer free or low-cost facilities and activities, people hang out there.”
“A literature campaign,” Lucien said decisively. “It’s too late now to contact the schools this academic year, since we won’t have anything for them before they close for the summer, but community centers will definitely see more kids soon, and we can be ready for the schools in September.” He pulled out his phone and noted the idea, then began adding details of what should be included in the information packets to schools and the flyers.
“Hey!” Simon jerked him back, his grip on Lucien’s arm painful. Horns blared, and Lucien blinked and looked up.
He’d just been saved from stepping out onto an extremely busy road. He jumped back.
“I’m sorry, Simon,” he apologized, stepping back farther from the road. “I am not normally so inattentive.” Never had he been so unaware of his surroundings.
“Yeah, well, maybe be more careful, okay?” Simon’s face was white, and his gaze kept jumping to the cars whizzing past. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The words hung between them, and Lucien’s heartbeat sped up. He swallowed. Could Simon mean that maybe he was… fond of Lucien? They’d only known each other a day, but being together continuously, with the addition of—dare he hope—lust, could easily lead to personal feelings.
Should he say something?
What should he say?
Simon stepped back and chuckled, and the spell was broken. “I need you to get this program running,” he said, and Lucien forced himself to chuckle also. They turned and walked back the way they had come.
“Let’s get the car,” Lucien said. He was unaccustomed to walking for transportation purposes, and found it an inefficient use of time. It took too long, and the time couldn’t even be spent multitasking.
LATE that evening, they strolled out of the Hôtel de Paris after a lovely—as usual�
�meal at Le Louis XV. The night was warm, and with the impending Grand Prix, the number of tourists wandering around had increased.
“What would we like to do?” Malik asked. “It’s a lovely evening, and still early.”
“We could get ice cream?” Ben said, looking across the square at the Café de Paris.
Simon made a small sound of protest.
“You just had dessert,” Léo chided fondly. “How can you want ice cream right now?”
“I always want ice cream,” Ben answered with a cheeky wink.
Lucien groaned. “Please, don’t start being all cute now,” he begged. Léo had some sort of weird obsession with Ben eating ice cream, and Lucien was already sexually frustrated. He didn’t need to watch two of his best friends flirting.
“The casino?” Simon suggested, looking over at the lit building. Lucien felt a stab of disappointment.
“Nah,” Ben said before Lucien could speak. “Lucien doesn’t like the casino unless they have a tournament or something on that’s interesting to watch.”
Lucien felt Simon’s gaze on him, and forced himself to meet it. “You don’t like to gamble?” Simon asked.
He shook his head. “But I have no objection to others doing so.” He didn’t want Simon to think he was being judgmental. It was simply that straight-up cash gambling bored him. After all, the outcome was completely irrelevant to him—win or lose, it didn’t matter. It was just money.
A bright flash had them all turning to the left. Several young men were huddled together about ten feet away, pointing phones in their direction and muttering to each other.
“I think Simon’s been recognized,” Malik said quietly. Lucien shot Simon a look. He had a fixed smile on his face and had turned so his back was to the men, but Lucien knew that wouldn’t work for long. Either the group would work up the courage to come and speak to him, or someone else would notice him. Or both.
“Let’s go,” Léo said. “Back to your place, Lucien. The security is good, and Simon won’t have to leave again tonight.”
Simon groaned as they started walking toward the valets. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s gotten better since I retired.”
The Athlete and the Aristocrat Page 5