by H J Perry
CARLOS
Birmingham South City suffered a humiliating defeat on Boxing Day. The team played like shit. The fans were pissed off.
The players were subjected to a severe dressing down by the manager. "Every man who stepped foot on the pitch was an embarrassment to BSC."
Using robust language, he went on to deliver smart comments, constructive criticism, and genuine insights in the locker room. He also let loose a cacophony of abuse. And a whole swath of insults was directed just at Jason and Carlos, the most expensive players on the team, who hadn't earned their salary that day.
Carlos recognized that he underperformed on the pitch. He sat and listened to it, just like every man there.
When the manager and assistant coach finally left the locker room, the men began to get changed in subdued silence. Then a small group of players became vocal.
"Carter, Garcia. Next time we stay in a hotel, you two need to get your dicks out of each other's asses and support the team."
"Yeah. Stop fucking each other in the morning and get with the team for breakfast."
Banter such as this was like water off a duck's back to Carlos, but he was horrified to hear quiet and respectable Harry subjected to such comments.
"Leave it, guys." Eric, the team captain, stepped in to pacify the vocal players when Harry and Carlos didn't respond. Harry grabbed his stuff and went towards the showers.
Alex rounded on Eric, pointing in the direction of Carlos as he spoke. "That's not what they put us up in a hotel for. It's bad enough we have them all gooey eyed at each other in the gym and training. And listening to their sex conversations on the bus."
"That right." Frazer joined in with Alex, directing his speech toward Eric. "I don't get to bring my girlfriend to our hotels and shag all night so I'm too tired to perform on the pitch."
Carlos clenched his fist and dropped his shower kit back in his bag.
"If their faggoting around is going to cost us games, then it's gone too far. Someone needs to split them up," said Alex.
It's none of your goddamn business, Carlos thought and turned to face Alex. He would have hit him after saying something, but Frazer spoke first.
"What's the matter with you today, Garcia? Did Carter shag you so hard he ruined you for football?"
There was no need for words when Carlos's fist connected with Frazer's jaw so fast he didn't see it coming.
Frazer staggered backward. A hand shot up to his face, and his eyes looked wide with amazement. "You fucking crazy fag!"
One of the other players got between Carlos and Frazer and led Frazer away. Carlos heard him saying, "You asked for that. You can't say stuff like that to a guy without expecting him to hit you."
Alex stepped back several paces with his hands up in the air.
"If anyone's got something reasonable to say, then say it, but I'm not here to listen to abuse about myself or my friends from any of you lot." Carlos turned to his bag and rummaged among his things, not doing anything but trying to look busy.
Jason approached him and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Not everyone thinks like they do, Carlos. Ignore them."
Ultimately, he couldn't give two flying fucks what the manager or anyone else at BSC thought about Harry and him. Carlos had already amassed such wealth that he never had to play football again. So one bad day at work or one lost game was not going to ruin his mood.
Unfortunately, the same was not true for the rest of the team. Some of them still strived to make a better name for themselves. Some of them made such bad investment decisions or gambled all their money away that they were not prepared for the day when no one would pay them to play football.
The team was subdued on the bus journey back to Birmingham, except nothing that day could dampen down the feel-good factor that burned inside of Carlos. He was going home with Harry, and after last night all the signs were good.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
January
HARRY
"Happy New Year, Harry."
"Happy New Year to you too, Scott. You're up early for New Year's Day. Weren't you out celebrating late last night?"
Harry was still lying in his hotel bed, but wide awake and contemplating breakfast. Alone, he had not shared a bed with Carlos since Christmas Day, the week before.
"It was just gone midnight, but I didn't stay out late. What about you? Were you celebrating all night?"
"I don't know what you think goes on in these hotels, Scott. I can assure you it's very dull, and we're just getting ready for work."
"How are things going with Carlos?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Since we moved out, it sounds like you spend all your time with him. I'm just guessing, and I haven't had the chance to ask you when I've seen you because there's always too many people around."
Harry had long wanted to confide in Scott, but not about Carlos. That was all very new. He wanted to tell Scott he was gay, but the right opportunity never seemed to arise. "What exactly are you just guessing?"
"When Jason told me about the fight last week, I wasn't sure if it meant he was defending your honor, or he was highly offended that someone might have thought he was queer. And Jason told me you spent the night together. So I just guess something is going on there. Am I right? You do spend a lot of time together."
"Carlos is lonely. He doesn't know anybody in Birmingham."
"That doesn't make you his babysitter, and it doesn't ring true. He's a megastar and a football player and you are not the only other player on the team. There are hundreds of you at that club, I seem to remember," said Scott. "So do you have anything to tell me?"
"We did spend the night together."
Harry heard Scott squeal over the phone, and he had to pull it away from his ear just a little.
"Yes, fantastic. I would invite the two of you to dinner, but for the awkward position of Jason, and whether he wants to be out to Carlos. Are you two officially an item?"
Harry wondered what to say, not entirely sure himself.
"Not exactly. He'd like us to be. But I've kept him at arm's length while thinking about it. Look at you and Jason. It seems too difficult, being in a relationship that people don't approve of and that you have to keep secret."
"It isn't easy, Harry. But if you're into each other, you aren't going to let football stand in your way, are you? What do you want to do?"
"I'd like to give it a chance. But what if it ends in disaster?"
"And how will you feel if you don't take that gamble? You'll never know if it will work unless you try. It's not easy, but I'm glad Jason and I took the risk to get together, and so far it's worked out okay."
"It's different for you, Scott. Everyone accepts that you're gay. My family would disown me."
"You don't know that for sure. But if it happens, it happens. You've got friends, and you can't give up your future happiness just because of whether your family approves or not. I guess you didn't spend last night with him?"
"You heard about what happened. I wasn't taking the risk again. We both stayed out, very visible among the rest of the players." And I've sort of avoided him being alone with him since then, I'm so fucking messed up.
"Yeah, I guess it would look suspicious if you had your own private New Year's celebration. I got to go, Harry. Keep me updated about the romance."
"See you, Scott, and Happy New Year."
The phone call with Scott encouraged Harry in his decision to make the coming year different. He couldn't put his private life on hold any longer. He tapped the screen on his phone to connect to Carlos.
"Happy New Year."
"Good morning, Harry. Happy New Year to you too."
"After today's match, we've two days free. Would you like to spend them with me?"
He heard Carlos laugh. "It will take a while to cancel all my other commitments, but I'd gladly do that to spend time with you. In fact, if you have two days, can you keep them entirely free and pack an overnight bag with y
our passport ready for first thing in the morning?"
"What about the rule about not leaving the country without permission?"
"If we ask permission, there's a chance someone might say no. So I think it's better not to ask," Carlos said.
"Where are we going?"
"I will make some calls in a moment, but we should be able to get a flight to Spain. I stayed with your mother, so now you should come and meet my parents. Their home is a little bigger than your mom's, so you'll get your own room."
Harry was damn sure he didn't want separate rooms. The year of 2013 was going to be one of decisive change and better than all the years gone by. He didn't need to tell Carlos over the phone.
In the bitter cold, early morning, a taxi drove them through the darkness directly to one of the small Midlands airports where they were two of only a handful of passengers who boarded a tiny plane destined for the vicinity of Madrid.
Even in Spain, the mornings were surprisingly cold in winter, and Harry was pleased he'd dressed in warm layers. At the Spanish destination, Carlos had already arranged to hire a car; he'd taken care of planning the details for such a brief trip.
It was still morning, but a more civilized hour, when they were eating a breakfast of sweet pastries washed down with coffee in a Spanish cafe somewhere near Carlos's parents' home.
"What have you told them about me?"
"Everything they need to know. The rest they'll probably work out for themselves."
"What am I supposed to make of that answer? Should I be worried?"
"I thought we'd spend the day just hanging out, doing some sightseeing and shopping. But Mom insisted we get there as soon as possible. She is so eager to meet you."
"Eager to meet me? Why?"
"Honestly, I've told them nothing personal."
"She's probably eager to see you in person instead of just on TV. What do I call them?"
"Bella and Ron. So you know Spain, everyone will disappear for a siesta, and let me warn you, dinner is about 10 o'clock at night here. That's if they are eating early."
Harry shivered. "I never expected it to be so cold."
"It surprises people. Come on. Let's go for a walk before you meet the family. I want to talk to you about something."
Carlos pulled out some euros and paid for breakfast. They headed out of the cafe and walked uphill.
"We haven't talked about what is going on between us. Those couple of nights we spent together are isolated moments. I didn't think you were too drunk, but I don't know how much you remember. "
"I'm not likely to forget." Harry felt his cheeks glowing red, and not for the exercise of brisk walking in cold air.
Carlos looked at him and grinned. "I mean the things I said. Not what we did. I meant every word I said."
"Oh. I wondered if you were drunk."
"I may have had a little drink for courage. I remember every word. I wasn't sure if I'd offended you, especially when I asked you to stay the night."
"I wasn't offended." Harry was surprised and unprepared, but not offended.
"I was brought up a Catholic myself, but I'll be honest, I don't have the same convictions. You and your mom seem so religious, and so no sex before marriage."
"Now I don't understand. Are you laughing at me?"
Carlos stopped dead in the street and grasped Harry's arm, so they turned to face each other. "No. Absolutely not. On the contrary, I want you to know that I've listened to you, and I respect your values. We get on great together as friends, and then last week we spent the night together. But since then you've kept me at arm's length."
"I know." Carlos deserved an explanation, and if Harry could find the words he would.
"I want to make sure you're really listening to me, Harry. I want you to know that I like you as a friend, but I'm not looking for a friends-with-benefits arrangement. If that's what you expect, then tell me. I hope you want the same as me. Something permanent, exclusive and committed."
Harry nodded, but Carlos hadn't finished.
"I remember you saying something along the lines of the church condemning casual sex outside of committed relationships, meaning marriage. For the first time in my life, I've met somebody who I want to spend my life with, someone I like spending time with."
People wandered past, but fortunately, no one stopped to listen to the men talking in English. They remained unrecognized—even the Spanish soccer hero—perhaps because of his hat, scarf, and London accent.
"In the past, every time I've dated someone, if we managed to make it beyond the first date, I've usually gotten bored with them within a week. I've been looking for love and sex with entirely the wrong people. Since moving to Birmingham, I've met you. And you're perfect."
Despite the cold air around them, Harry felt extremely warm, and his stomach was churning.
"I'm Spanish. In this country, I can marry any man, even if you aren't Spanish."
"Carlos, I know that you can't possibly be asking me to marry you. But I only know this because you're standing up in the street. You're not on one knee."
Carlos's smile turned into a laugh, and he reached out and took Harry's hand. "I'm not asking you to marry me. When I do, I hope it will be a memorable, romantic event, but I wanted you to know that it's possible. I understand that these things are important to you and your family. Your mother might not understand it, but she could come to our wedding here in Spain, and she might accept that we're in a loving, committed relationship. That's what I'm asking you."
"So you're not asking me to marry you. We're not getting engaged, but you want to get engaged to be engaged?" Harry couldn't help but be amused on the surface. Inside he was overjoyed that they wanted the same kind of relationship.
Still holding hands and still stationary in the street, Carlos looked around, and then focused on Harry again. "Damn it, Harry. You know what I'm talking about. It couldn't be any clearer. I'd like to call you my boyfriend, to carry on with our friendship as it is, but with the addition of kissing, touching, and removing clothes on a frequent basis. It will all be with the intention that one day we get married here in Spain. Is that what you want?"
"Yes." Harry swallowed. Since that night he'd wanted so many more like that. He'd been so scared of Carlos revealing their past, and now it was unimportant.
"Even though I'm a guy?"
"I'm gay, Carlos. It's kind of important that you are a guy." It was the first time Harry had ever used those words and told anyone, he hadn't even said as much to Scott.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
January
CARLOS
"Let's go get back in the car." Carlos didn't release Harry's hand, they turned together and retraced their steps along the street toward the cafe toward where they were parked.
Carlos hadn't intended to practically ask Harry to marry him while standing on a suburban Spanish Street that morning. He somehow imagined their relationship would flourish on its own; perhaps it would if it weren't for the awkward fact of their work situation.
"I'm really done with PDP." Carlos squeezed Harry's hand as they walked.
"With what?"
"Public displays of platonic friendship. I want to treat you as my boyfriend. I know that's not possible at work, or anywhere we'll be recognized."
They reached the car and when Harry opened the passenger door, his phone rang. Carlos watched as Harry paused, then reached into the back pocket of his Versace jeans.
"It's Chris Stutter, my agent," Harry announced when he saw the screen.
"Okay." Carlos got in the car and turned on the radio to wait out the conversation.
When he suggested a two-day trip to Spain on impulse, Carlos thought about whizzing Harry around a few of the sites. A visit to the impressive Royal Palace and to see Picasso's Guernica at the Queen Sofía Museum. Lunch in Madrid with his brother, if José was available, and stopping by a tapas bar or two before traveling to his parents for a typically Spanish late-night dinner.
On the day, h
e felt physically and mentally exhausted by the December work schedule, which crammed in more matches, more traveling, and more hotel sleepovers than any other month. Also, there were many more public appearances and charity events to attend around the Christmas and New Year period. Many were a mandatory part of his contract with the club or some other deal he'd signed. Without asking, he suspected Harry was similarly as worn out.
It wasn't just his tiring work schedule that made Carlos reluctant to act as a tour guide around the sites of Madrid. Especially now, after the conversation that he hoped to have but not quite in that way, time or place.
He'd had enough of spending time in public. They hadn't discussed any itinerary so traveling directly to Carlos's parent's house instead of into Madrid wouldn't surprise Harry.
After a short couple of minutes, Harry got in the car.
"Okay," Carlos said out of habit, it wasn't a question he expected answered. More of a let's get this car rolling noise.
"Not really. I've turned my phone off because the first thing Chris did was ask why I was abroad. He as good as knew I didn't have a good reason or permission. But the ringtone gave it away. You should turn your phone off too."
Carlos wriggled in his seat to pull out his phone and do as Harry suggested.
"But that's not the problem?" Carlos could tell from the look on Harry's face, the tone of his voice and the stiffness of his posture. Neither of them were in trouble yet. Football agents don't bring trouble; they bring money.
"No the clue is in the words, ‘my agent called,’ and it's January; so it's transfer season."
"How long is left on your contract with BSC?" asked Carlos. He dropped his good-for-nothing phone in the side pocket on the hire car's door.
"Three years remain. So, of course, they want to sell me now while they can maximize their money."
"You should make a handsome bonus on any transfer." That's the way to secure your future. You know some mediocre players make a fortune by just changing club often."