Bad Boy Brit (A British Bad Boy Romance)

by Daire, Caitlin

  “So where are we headed?” I asked.

  “This way.”

  Liam led me down into the tube station, amongst the blank-eyed ranks of commuters, enthused tourists and weirdos who just seemed to live down there. To me, it seemed like a maze—tunnels crossing each other, doubling back, descending still further via escalators—but Liam navigated it with practiced ease, not even stopping to look at the confusing color-coded signs to guide him. He was a local boy who’d made it big, but he remained a local boy—he knew his way around his city.

  “How much of London is underground?” I asked as we lined up on the platform.

  “Best not to think about it,” said Liam. “There’s always new buildings going up and I honestly have no idea where the foundations go, or why they don’t just sink into the ground, given how little ground there actually is to support them. Never mind the tube network itself, which is vast, there’s also the sewer system, the Royal mail tunnels and new rail lines being built all the time. It’s just a honeycomb down here. Hard to believe there’s a big, heavy city on top of it.”

  I nodded. “I think you were right in the first place…best not to think about it. Pretty crazy.”

  The train pulled up, the doors slid open and Liam led me onboard. We found ourselves seats and sat in somewhat stilted silence as the train rattled through station after station, heading for the outskirts of the city. There was still a sense of awkwardness between us—all was not yet as it should be or as it had been.

  “This is us,” Liam finally said.

  We were a couple of stops from the end of the line and the train was more or less empty by now. We were the only ones getting off at this particular stop onto the empty, echoing platform.

  “Quiet,” I remarked. It was a somewhat unnecessary thing to say but the silence seemed to oppress me into saying something.

  “This time of day, yeah,” Liam said. “You should see it at rush hour. You can’t move in peak times. It’s horrible. This way.”

  He led me along the platform, trailing his hand along the tiled wall. I got a vivid impression that this was something he’d done since he was a kid walking this familiar path, and that he’d never got out of the habit.

  An escalator took us up out of the dim closeness of the tube network and back into daylight.

  “Here we are,” said Liam, a half-smile on his face as he gestured around us. “I take you to the nicest places, don’t I?”

  “This is where you grew up?”

  There was no getting around the fact that Liam hadn’t grown up in a particularly ‘nice’ area. Polite euphemism would have dubbed the place ‘cultural’, ‘atmospheric’ or ‘salt of the earth’, studiously avoiding words like ‘dump’. This was the part of London which contained the homes of the people who did the jobs that no one thought about until they weren’t done, at which point they noticed sharply and started talking about how lazy the working classes were. And those were the lucky ones, because this was also where the people who struggled for work lived, who queued up at the employment office every day in the hope of finding something, and usually finding nothing. Affluence was yet to arrive here, and if it ever did it, would likely push out all those who lived here now.

  Liam pointed at a building on our left as we walked. “That’s where me and Dean went to school. Some days. And that,” he pointed to a pub, “is where we went the other days.”

  “How old were you?” I asked.

  “When we started drinking? Too young, really. But our Dad used to take us in there so no one really questioned it when we started going in on our own.”

  We wandered down the street and reached a small play area, squashed between a row of shops and a building site.

  “Used to come here a lot too.” Liam smiled at the memory. “They’ve replaced all the equipment now but when we used to come down there was a see-saw—rusted to hell and it used to squeak like a baby screaming, but I used to play on that for hours. Dean always wanted to go on the climbing frame but I didn’t like the height of it. He carried me up there once, when I was six, just to show me there was nothing to be scared of.”

  “And then you weren’t scared anymore?” I asked.

  Liam grinned. “Nah. I actually wet myself.”

  “Ah.” Most people would be embarrassed to tell a story like that, but Liam was obviously comfortable revealing his early memories to me, and that fact made me feel warm despite the cold, biting air outside.

  “It was years before I was able to go up that bloody climbing frame again. I still don’t like heights very much.”

  “I’ll scratch the Eiffel Tower off our ‘to do’ list, then,” I said.

  He grinned again. “That’s different. Going with you would be great,” he said with a wink. “But if you run off and leave me up there alone, then I might just never speak to you again.”

  I laughed. The awkwardness between us had really started to melt. Without the pressure that a normal ‘date’ situation imposed, we could just be ourselves and joke around. That was when things seemed to work best between us.

  But how long could it last?

  We walked on, and I glanced up at the skyline. Dominating the whole area, looming above like vast monoliths, were three tower blocks; vast concrete beehives, likely filled with so many people that it was hard to imagine where they all came from.

  “That one,” Liam pointed to the block on the left, its windows just caught by the morning sun, “that’s where we lived when I was a kid.”

  I simply nodded. I wasn’t sure what to say, and there were times when it was probably better to say nothing.

  “Mum and Dad still live there,” he added.

  It was hard to read Liam’s face when he spoke of his parents, as if he was actively trying to expunge all emotion from it. But the emotions were surely there, so mixed that it would’ve been hard to distil them into anything specific; positive or negative.

  “Do you ever see them?” I asked.

  “No. Haven’t seen them since we ran out.”

  “Have they tried to get in touch?” I didn’t want to seem too nosy, but I got the impression that there were things Liam wanted to say, even if he didn’t admit that desire out loud. “They must know what you do now.”

  “After I started getting successful they started trying to get in touch.” Liam kept his eyes straight ahead of him as he spoke. “I’d like to think…you know…they weren’t able to find me until then—big city, lots of people. I’d like to think they didn’t just get in touch because all of a sudden I had money.”

  “But?” I said the word that hung in the air between us.

  “If they’d been looking, they’d have found us,” he said. “It’s not like we changed our names or something. Hell, when we first ran away we didn’t even go that far.” He paused. “Doesn’t matter. I couldn’t forgive them anyway. I know that probably makes me a bad person but…I just can’t.”

  “Do they still try to get in touch at all?” I was so close to my father, had been so well brought up and so loved, that it was coldly horrifying to hear this story of parental neglect and separation.

  “No,” he replied. “When I had the money, I bought their flat and sent them the deed. It’s theirs, they don’t have to worry about rent again. They haven’t made any effort to get in touch since then. They got what they wanted.”

  Again, I felt that silence was best, and my heart went out to Liam as he continued his story.

  “Every Christmas I transfer some money into their account,” he said, his voice as emotionless as his face. “I guess if I ever feel the need to speak to them again, then I’ll stop doing that. I’m sure they’ll be in touch then.”

  “What about Dean?”

  Liam half-smiled. “He says I’m a bloody idiot for sending them anything at all, that they don’t deserve it.” He paused a moment. “He remembers those times better than me. I was so little. I don’t want to have anything to do with them, but I’m sorry that things couldn’t have be
en different, that we couldn’t have been a proper family. Dean just hates them. Really, truly, hates them.”

  He turned to me. “Please don’t think I’m trying to make you, or anyone else, feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity from anyone—I’m one of the luckiest men on the planet. I’d hate for you to think that I was trying to use some sad sob story to get your sympathy, and…”

  I stopped him by gently stroking his cheek. “I don’t think that,” I said quietly. “Not at all.”

  I really didn’t. I finally trusted him now.

  Smiling, I pulled my hand away from his cheek and kissed him, and when we broke apart, I saw a new light in his eyes.

  “Seriously,” he said, “luckiest man on the planet.”

  My heart soared, and we walked on.

  “So, is the disguise really necessary?” I wanted to change the subject but it had also been playing on my mind a little, ever since I’d wondered about it earlier.

  “I do get recognized a lot. Especially round here.”

  “And here I was thinking you were just ashamed to be seen with me.”

  I said it in a joking tone, but there was a kernel of truth behind it which Liam seemed to pick up on.

  “You don’t really think that, do you?” he asked, pausing on the street and turning to me.

  I was a little afraid to meet his gaze in case it became clear just how much I’d considered it this morning. “I think you seem pretty comfortable with people recognizing you anywhere. And I think, listening to the way you talk about this place, that despite everything you have a real affection for it, and that actually you’d quite like to be recognized here. Not out of arrogance, but to be an inspiration to the kids here. You’re proud that you come from here, and with that being the case I can’t see why you wouldn’t want to be recognized when you come here. So I thought that maybe there was another reason. That’s all.”

  It was Liam’s turn to look away. “Shit. I said I wouldn’t lie to you, and here I am doing it again.”

  What? What had he lied about?

  My fear must have showed in my face because he hastened to continue.

  “I’m not even remotely ashamed of being seen with you. I’m proud of being seen with you. And whether we’re dating or not—I know you don’t like the word but I really hope we are—I’d be over the moon to be seen with you on the front of every newspaper in the world, with an article all about how I’m done with the bachelor life. That’s how I feel. But…”

  “Brian.” I knew it before he had a chance to say it. He was still worried about my job.

  Liam sighed. “I know I shouldn’t let him intrude into my personal life like this, but I can’t let him ruin your career. And he will if he sees or hears anything about me being with you. He says being single is my brand, that it’s why I’m popular. And he’s right. He’s a good manager.”

  “He’s also an asshole, if he refuses to let you have a personal life. A real one, that is.”

  “Yeah, he is an asshole. But he’s an asshole who’s on my side, which I guess is a pretty good description of a manager.”

  I snickered. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  “Unfortunately, if I tell him to go to hell, he’ll be on the phone to your editor before you know it, and like I said, I couldn’t bear to risk your job.”

  “He can do whatever he wants. Honestly, I can handle it. I’ll deal with the fallout from my editor. And if it comes down to it, there are other jobs.”

  Liam shook his head. “Don’t act like this wouldn’t be a big deal for you; like you don’t care about your career, because I know you do. And I do too, so I can’t be the reason you get fired. Which unfortunately means I have to play pretend at still being single, which means I have to go incognito when we’re out together.”

  I sighed. As much as I hated us having to hide our relationship, he was right. And not only was he right, he was also the wonderful sort of man who respected a woman’s need and desire to have a career. Even in this day and age, there were quite a few guys who didn’t support that, which honestly blew my mind.

  “You’re right. But how long do you think we’ll need to do this?” I asked.

  His reply wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, but it did give me a glimmer of hope for the near future.

  “Until I figure out what the hell to do in order to publicly be with you and save your career,” he said. “And after that, not a moment more.”

  And with that, he took my hand and squeezed it, and we kept on walking.

  Chapter 14

  Liam

  I wasn’t sure if it was by accident or design, through my own subconscious desires or because of Allison’s presence, but it seemed inevitable that my guided tour down memory lane would eventually arrive at a football pitch.

  At the football pitch.

  This one was a far cry from the magnificent multi-million pound, facility-laden stadium which I had shown Allison a few nights ago. It was barely more than a field overlooked by tower blocks, fringed by council housing and a condemned warehouse which had stood empty for years, waiting for someone to remember that it was supposed to be knocked down. The goal posts that stood at each end were covered in peeling white paint and looked as if they might fall down at the slightest breath of wind, one set severely skewed to the left. And yet this place meant more to me than I could put into words, and I felt a powerful need to share it with Allison.

  “See there?” I pointed to an ugly, squat building on the far side of the pitch. “Locker rooms and showers. These days, a lot of youth teams have their own, but back when I started that was a proper rarity. Other teams used to love coming to play us because they didn’t have to change on the bus and they got to have a shower afterwards.”

  There was always pride in my voice when I talked of my old team; nostalgia too.

  Allison took in the scene, and it seemed like she appreciated the place as much as I did. She didn’t look down on it just because it was cheap. “Do you come here a lot?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left. I mean, I love my life, obviously, but…growing up is such an arse, isn’t it?”

  Allison laughed. “Sure.”

  I returned my gaze to the pitch, and to the handful of local kids who were having a friendly kick-about. “It was so easy back then. We just played because, you know—we loved playing. And for a couple of hours you could leave all the other stuff behind. Nothing else mattered. Playing for love.”

  I paused. Allison was so easy to talk to that I sometimes worried that I got a bit carried away. Then again, with her, I wanted to get carried away.

  “I mean, I love it now. When I’m out there. But it’s never quite the same. So much else going on: press conferences, league tables, commercial endorsements. I can’t pick my own aftershave, my own car…” I paused again—did I dare say it? “Can’t pick the women I want to be with.”

  Would she pick up the hint? I kicked at the grass and continued. “It’s not about football, it’s all about the money.”

  “Does it have to be?” Allison asked quietly.

  “You can’t change the world.”

  “If that were true the world wouldn’t ever change.”

  I sighed. From the outside, such change in the football industry probably looked easy, but I’d never found it to be so. “Maybe the world can change—but football? That’s set in stone. If you don’t go along with the advertisers, the pundits, the agents, then you’re finished. I’ve got, if I’m lucky, maybe ten years at the top of the game. I want to play. And if I have to put up with all the other bullshit, then okay, I’ll put up with it. I won’t like it, but I’ll put up with it.”

  Allison nodded, but I wondered if she really believed it. We’d only known each other a few days, but in that time she’d gotten to know the real me better than anyone, except for Dean, and she’d instinctively seen through all my bullshit posturing and pretense. Sometimes I wondered if I even believed those excuses myself anymore. It was
true that I would’ve sacrificed almost anything to play football, but to say that I had no other option? I might have been sanitized and redesigned as a media brand, but the street kid who would break into a football stadium at night still bubbled beneath the surface. People might temporarily control me using football as a carrot to hang in front of me, but I instinctively rebelled against any form of captivity. If I really cared, if I really tried, if I really wanted it, then I could break away from that corporate treadmill. All I needed was the impetus to do it.

  And Allison could very well be that impetus.

  “Oh, look at that!” I was suddenly brought out of my thoughts as one of the kids on the field executed a superb bit of dribbling, taking the ball neatly around three opponents. “Beautiful!”

  The kids had thus far been too distracted by their game to notice that they were being watched, but now they stopped to look up and ran over excitedly. I glanced across at Allison, who smiled back—she knew how the kids must idolize football stars.

  Well, she was about to get a surprise.

  The first kid—a few steps faster than his friends—ran up. “Hi, Harry!”

  “Hi, Rob,” I replied, shooting a glance at Allison and enjoying the puzzled look on her face. “Looking really good out there, mate.”

  ‘Harry’ had been a necessary invention if I was to be able to come here as often as I did, without exciting unnecessary interest. I didn’t want the kids’ enthusiasm for football to be overtaken by their enthusiasm for a footballer. They liked ‘Harry’, they knew that he could play, and though they wondered at his physical similarity to Liam Croft, they were willing to accept it as a coincidence. After all, what would Liam Croft be doing here?

  These visits always reminded me that being a decent man was a hell of a lot more important than being a football superstar.

  The other kids arrived, chorusing greetings to ‘Harry’. One of them pointed at Allison. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I smiled. “This is Allison. She’s a friend of mine from America who loves football, and when I told her about you guys she asked if she could come watch you play.”