‘Well, to be fair, Kevin, she’s probably got a point,’ Amber half-smiled, continuing to look out at the mass of people still making their way into the stadium’s various entrances, the noise level growing ever-louder by the second. ‘I mean, those things can’t be helping, can they?’
‘Don’t you start,’ he mumbled, flicking ash onto the ground. ‘And anyway, I thought you’d quit. What drove you back to this filthy habit?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ she muttered, checking her watch.
‘Go on. Get yourself inside. I’ve just seen Ronnie pop into the Players Lounge. Go say hello and chill out for a bit. You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’
Amber looked at him, and she was about to say something when she was distracted by the arrival of the Red Star team coach, turning up for what was being billed as the biggest game of the season so far.
She stayed put, watching as the coach doors opened and Jim Allen stepped off first, exchanging a few words with the waiting press and a large group of fans who’d suddenly crowded round the team coach, before making his way up the flight of steps that led to the stadium’s main entrance, handsome and charismatic as always dressed in his trademark dark suit and aviator shades. Ever the dynamic and popular manager. Her stomach jolted like someone had just pushed her insides hard as his eyes briefly met hers, a smile directed solely at her sending her heart racing. And then he was gone.
With him safely inside she turned her attention back to the team coach. Colin Bailey was busy ushering the players off, most of them with their heads down, hands in pockets, many of them wearing large headphones connected to their Mp3 players to block out the obvious outside distractions. But Ryan had his head up, his face almost impassive as he ran up the steps – until he caught sight of her. Then his expression changed, a smile making his handsome features light up and Amber couldn’t stop herself from smiling back, even though the wave of guilt which accompanied that smile made her almost breathless for a second. But no words were exchanged as Colin made sure every player was inside the building within seconds. Standard match practise. They were off the coach and into the dressing room within minutes, no speaking to anyone, no distractions of any kind. Jim had a very strict sense of discipline when it came to match days. He was famous for it.
‘Everything alright?’ Kevin asked, and Amber almost jumped out of her skin. She’d forgotten he was there.
‘Yeah. Yeah, of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kevin shrugged. ‘You just seem a bit, stressed. More than usual, I mean.’
She couldn’t help smiling at him. ‘I’m just not sleeping all that well at the minute, that’s all.’
‘Yes, well, that’s what you get for shacking up with a toy boy so don’t go looking at me for any sympathy,’ Kevin said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Go on. Go see Ronnie. I’ll come and find you when I need you.’
She made her way back inside, escaping into the corridor that led to the Players Lounge before the away team coach arrived.
‘Hey, you. I was wondering where you were,’ Ronnie grinned, pulling her into his arms for a hug, kissing her gently on both cheeks. ‘You’ve been having a sly smoke, haven’t you?’ he asked, looking at her with a mock-stern expression on his face.
‘Don’t start. Is Anna not with you?’ Amber looked around the small but incredibly busy Players Lounge, full of family and friends enjoying a few drinks and a catch-up before the match began.
‘She’ll be here later,’ Ronnie replied, leaning back against the bar. ‘She had to go see her mum first.’
‘Going okay, is it? You and her?’ Amber asked, pushing a hand through her loose, dark red hair.
‘It’s going better than okay,’ Ronnie grinned.
Amber grinned back, nudging his arm. ‘That’s what I like to hear. I knew you two would be good for each other.’
‘Alright, so, that’s me settled in a decent, honest relationship,’ Ronnie went on, and Amber could tell from the tone of his voice what was coming next, and she felt her stomach sink, ‘… now, what about you?’
‘I’m working on it,’ Amber replied, going over to a table full of tea and coffee flasks and grabbing herself a mug of something hot and strong.
‘Working on it?’ Ronnie frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means me and Ryan quite obviously still have a lot of talking to do,’ Amber sighed, joining Ronnie back at the bar.
‘Have you…? Oh, hang on, kiddo. I’d better take this,’ he said, putting his phone to his ear and escaping out of the crowded and noisy lounge to take the call.
Amber took a sip of coffee and continued to look around the room, seeing a few faces she recognised, and some she’d seen around now and again. But nobody she particularly wanted to go over and talk to.
‘You’re Ryan Fisher’s new girlfriend, aren’t you?’
Amber turned to see who the voice beside her belonged to, recognising her as Debbie Hogan, Gary Blandford’s fiancée. All long blonde hair and whiter-than-white teeth, kitted out in the latest designer gear finished off with a pair of crazy-high stiletto boots she looked every inch the stereotypical WAG. All Amber really knew about her was that she was a glamour model and sometimes “wrote” a column for one of those celebrity gossip magazines. And she also had a history of affairs with various Z-List celebrities, but then, from what Amber could gather, Gary Blandford was hardly Mr. Monogamous himself.
‘Yeah. I suppose I am,’ Amber replied, bored already by a conversation she didn’t really want to have.
‘I’ve always liked Ryan,’ Debbie went on, curling a strand of hair round her finger, making sure everybody could see the ridiculously over-stated and far-too-large yellow-diamond engagement ring she was wearing. ‘I went out with him once, y’know. For a little while, when he played down south.’
‘Really,’ Amber said. It wasn’t a question.
‘I was working on a shoot for a men’s magazine at the time, before I met Gary… He’s really good-looking, isn’t he?’ Debbie smiled, finally letting go of her hair. ‘Ryan, I mean.’
‘Yeah. I suppose he is,’ Amber replied, not sure if Debbie could feel the apathy in her voice or not.
‘How’s it going?’ Debbie asked, leaning back against the bar beside Amber. Amber just looked at her. Had she done anything that had encouraged this woman to stay and carry on a conversation that she really had neither the time nor the inclination to continue?
‘Erm, well, okay, I suppose,’ Amber said, staring down into her coffee, swirling the dark liquid round and round in the mug.
‘You should really try and keep him away from Gary, y’know.’
Amber looked up sharply, her eyes meeting the slightly over-made-up, grey-blue ones of the woman beside her.
‘What… why? What do you mean?’
‘You know as well as I do, Amber, that Gary actually has a worse reputation than Ryan. When it comes to women, anyway.’
Amber frowned, putting her mug down on the bar behind her, turning to face Debbie. ‘You know what he gets up to?’
‘Of course I do,’ Debbie smiled, and Amber suddenly felt herself warming to this woman that was so far away from the kind of person she’d usually gravitate towards. ‘But I love this lifestyle, Amber. Call me shallow, call me some kind of fame-hungry WAG but that’s me. That’s who I am. And we’ve got a good life, me and Gary. Good lives – because he kind of lives his and I live mine, and that’s fine. As long as I can have that status of being a famous footballer’s wife, I don’t really care what he gets up to.’
Amber was incredibly confused now. She’d never wanted that kind of life, never been drawn to it any way, shape or form and she found it hard to believe that someone could want to be part of that just so’s they could have the money, status and the kind of fame that it could, sometimes, give you. Didn’t love come into it at all? Or was this whole world just one messed-up concoction of men w
ith a God complex and women who just wanted to spend their days shopping and getting their hair done in the most expensive salons possible? That was such a stereotype, and Amber knew that wasn’t the way it really was, but sometimes it was hard to forget that people did live outside that kind of world.
‘We’re no Posh and Becks,’ Debbie sighed, resuming the hair-curling again. ‘But we love each other, in our own funny kind of way.’
‘Does he know you know what he gets up to?’ Amber asked, knowing fine well it was probably a rhetorical question.
Debbie nodded. ‘I’m hardly innocence personified myself, chick. Maybe it’ll all change when we get married, I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you want it to change?’ Amber was quite fascinated now. In all her years being involved in the world of football she’d never really stopped to get to know any of the women who shared the lives of these famous, top-flight players. So, now that she was one of them – like it or not – maybe it was time to stop and listen. Time to make some friends and enter that inner circle. Although, the thought of it still made her shudder slightly.
‘I don’t know,’ Debbie said, looking straight into Amber’s eyes. ‘I really don’t know. We’re both so used to living our lives the way we do that getting used to something else might be really strange. Does that make sense?’
‘No. Not really,’ Amber frowned. ‘So, if you’re so used to Gary’s behaviour, why should I keep Ryan away from him?’
‘Because Ryan’s different,’ Debbie said. ‘When I was with him, I could see that a lot of what he did was nothing but a façade. Something to hide behind. Ryan is also desperate to be liked, Amber. He came into football so young; he was taken away from what he knew and thrown into this whole new life before he’d even left school and I think that meant he never really had the chance to make any real friends. His whole world was football, with no time to be a kid…’
‘Did he tell you this?’ Amber interrupted, wondering how this woman knew so much about him for somebody who’d only been with him for such a short time.
Debbie nodded again. ‘There were days when all he wanted to do was talk. Just sit and talk and get things off his chest, and that’s when I could see the real person behind that big-name footballer with an image that he felt he had to keep up. But he never really had to do that, did he? Because he had talent. And that should’ve been enough. But he wanted to be popular, thought it was all part of that image. So he’d throw himself into anything the rest of his team-mates did, and that’s when the trouble began, I suppose. When he started to become the person he is now.’
‘Do you… do you know anything else about him, Debbie? I mean, do you… how far…?’ Amber wanted to know if she knew about the gambling, the drugs, the time Ryan had spent in rehab, but how did you even begin to ask a question like that? Because, if she didn’t know, then asking that question would certainly mean she would now. Amber couldn’t risk that.
‘He’s just your typical footballer, Amber. But he doesn’t need to be. I’d really hoped that when he had that injury – y’know, the one that kept him out of action for months last season – I’d hoped that would have given him time to think about his life. Making the move up here was a good decision, but I’m not sure him becoming best friends with Gary was the best idea.’
Amber sussed from that that Debbie had no real idea of the truth behind Ryan’s behaviour; she had no idea of how deep his problems ran, and that’s the way it needed to stay. But one thing she had done was make sure that Amber tried even harder to keep Ryan away from that lifestyle that had almost destroyed him, once. He needed to realise that what had happened on Friday – the bars and the drinking and the staying out all night – that couldn’t continue. Not if he wanted his career to stay on track. He was only twenty-six. He still had plenty of playing days ahead of him yet.
‘Thanks, Debbie.’
Debbie smiled; a warm smile. A friendly smile. ‘You should come out with me and the girls sometime, Amber. We can have just as good a time as the boys can, believe me.’
Amber returned her smile, thinking what a surreal experience that had just been, but a very pleasant one. Surprisingly so.
‘Will you?’ Debbie asked. ‘Come out with us sometime, I mean. With me and the girls.’
‘Yeah,’ Amber replied, still smiling. ‘Yeah. I think I’d like that.’
‘Great,’ Debbie beamed, pulling Amber in for an unexpected hug.
They’d just exchanged phone numbers when Ronnie reappeared, looking at Amber with a surprised expression. ‘Erm, sorry, but, was that you exchanging phone numbers with Debbie Hogan? Queen of the North East WAGs?’
‘So?’ Amber asked, probably a touch too defensively.
Ronnie shrugged. ‘Nothing. It’s just that… you? A WAG?’
‘I’ve done it before,’ she said, looking at him.
‘Well, yeah. I suppose you have. You didn’t enjoy it, though.’
She smiled, standing on tiptoe to kiss him quickly on the cheek. ‘I enjoyed the other perks. Like being with you.’
‘Well, who can blame you there?’ Ronnie grinned.
‘Shouldn’t you be somewhere?’ she asked, still smiling at him. ‘You are working on this match, aren’t you? Are you commentating?’
‘No. I’m up in the studio, in front of the cameras. I’m one of the pundits.’
‘Oh, you’re on TV this afternoon? And you didn’t think to have a shave before you left the house?’
Ronnie felt his rough chin, his expression changing. ‘Shit! That’s because Anna said she liked me with a bit of stubble.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s enough information on that score, and I have to agree with her, actually. The rough-and-ready look suits you, but on TV you’re only going to look as though you couldn’t be arsed to get ready.’
‘Your honesty is one of your more attractive traits, Amber, I have to say. Right, well, I’d better get off then. See you later? For a post-match drink?’
‘Absolutely.’
*
Ryan sat with his hands clasped between his open knees, his head down, his brain working overtime as what felt like a million different feelings clashed like warring enemies inside his head, causing a blanket of confusion and a lack of concentration he could well do without.
Sometimes he hated this routine of getting to the ground so early – ninety minutes before kick-off was the norm, and today was no exception. That time was used to warm up in the small gym just off the dressing room, sort out any lingering injury problems with the physio; get their heads together. Something he was finding very hard to do today, of all days.
‘Everything alright, Ryan?’
He looked up at the sound of Jim Allen’s voice. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look it.’
‘I’m fine,’ Ryan repeated.
Jim sat down beside him, copying his stance and clasping his own hands between his open knees, staring straight ahead. ‘I need you focused, son. This is a big game for us and I really don’t intend to lose my winning streak just because you can’t control your love life.’
Ryan kept his eyes on his clasped hands as he spoke. ‘My love life is none of your business.’
‘Now, you see, I think it is, Ryan. I think it is, when it starts to affect you as a player.’
This time Ryan looked straight at his manager, their eyes locking in a silent battle that only one of them really knew was going on. ‘When it comes to me running out onto that pitch, boss… when it comes to me running out on that pitch there will be no other player out there more focused than me. I can assure you of that.’
Jim said nothing for a few seconds, just continued to stare into the eyes of his extremely talented, but at the same time incredibly mixed-up striker before standing back up, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked down at Ryan. ‘I hope you mean that.’
Or what? Ryan wanted to ask, but Jim had left the dressing room before he’d had a chance to say anything else. Jesus! He could d
o with a hit right now. Just one quick hit. But that would be suicide, and he knew it. He needed something to take the edge off everything he was feeling, though.
‘You coming out with us tonight?’ Gary asked, sitting down next to Ryan, pulling his red and white strip down over his head.
‘Jesus, Gary, don’t you ever just want a night in with Debbie? Like a normal couple?’
‘And you think she’s spending tonight in front of the TV with the ‘X Factor’ Results Show and a pot of tea? Huh? Far from it, mate. She’s got her own night out lined up so if she thinks I’m sitting in waiting for her to roll in at all hours she’s wrong. And anyway, there’s no training tomorrow, is there? No excuse for us not to have a late one tonight.’
Ryan sat back, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘I really want to spend some time with Amber, y’know?’
‘Has she busted your balls over Friday night yet?’
Ryan looked at him. ‘No. Not yet. She was okay when I saw her yesterday morning…’
‘Because she didn’t want you going into this match thinking she was annoyed with you?’
Ryan frowned. ‘She said she was fine about everything. I mean, she had a bit of a go, and I can’t blame her for that, but she seemed okay when I left for the hotel.’
‘Well, you can believe that if you want to, mate. If you’re really stupid. But I’m speaking from experience here, and she meant none of that, I can almost guarantee it. She’ll be ready and waiting to kick your arse from here to next weekend, believe me. I’ve been there. Once this match is over, that’s when the shit’ll hit the fan.’
Ryan sighed heavily, a headache beginning to thump away behind his eyes. ‘And replaying the events of Friday night is the best way to deal with that, is it?’
Gary shrugged. ‘Look, we’ve got VIP tickets to that new bar opening up in the city centre. The place’ll be full of beautiful women all looking for a famous face to screw senseless. You gonna say no to that?’
Striker (Book 1 in the 'Striker' Trilogy) Page 26