by Ally Adams
My man, The Russian was a rock. I just looked at him and felt better, and if he had at all been protective before, now he was truly over the top. We drove together to the game, The Russian in his team training gear, looking super sexy and in control. I knew he kept glancing my way ... I think he was waiting for me to have a repeat performance of the previous night and a total meltdown.
When we arrived at the Saints’ stadium, he insisted on walking me to my ticketed seat from Russian’s ticket allocation, but I wanted to drop into the media box first and wish my replacement good luck. When we got there, he managed to obtain a promise from Sasha that she would walk me to the WAGS area ... so sweet and over the top! I don’t know how he thought Sasha was going to save me from any evil—she was slighter than me—but I guess there’s safety in numbers.
He greeted the journos, casting a look at a few that he thought were going to put me over their shoulder and run off with me—yes, we were working on it— and then he pulled me aside before leaving. I could see some of the journos subtly watching us from the corner of the media box.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“I’m going to be just fine. What could possibly go wrong?” I said, and he made this grunting sort of sound. “Really, I’ve been fine for twenty-four years, so one weird night isn’t a life sentence,” I said, assuring him.
“That weird night could have been a lot worse if you hadn’t been able to reach me. Thank God I wasn’t in the shower or asleep!”
“Play well,” I said, pushing him out the door of the media box and towards the stairs. I followed him out. “I love you.” OMG, I just said that. Out loud. I had been thinking it and then I just blurted it out.
The Russian stopped dead and turned to look at me. His came in close to kiss me but instead moved to whisper in my ear.
“I love you, Brooker.” He pulled away to look at me again and grinned.
“Go!” I said, returning his happiness with a silly grin of my own.
“Geez Brooker, you’re bossy,” he said, walking away.
“You don’t know the half of it buddy,” I told him, folding my arms across my chest, and watching that great butt disappear down the stairs. Yep, that was satisfying. I went back in and Sasha gave me the third degree.
“What’s going on? Has something happened? The Russian’s being all over-the-top protective!” she frowned.
“Confidentially?” I asked her.
“Of course,” she nodded, and pulled me back outside the media box.
“One of my stalkers attacked me last night,” I said. It was the first time I had said the words and it made me shiver. I rubbed my arms.
“Oh my God,” she hissed, “did he hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No, but he scared the shit out of me. I managed to get through to The Russian and he brought the police, Eddie and his team. They guy’s been arrested ... I’m not the first complaint, allegedly.”
Sasha shook her head. “Fucking men.”
As she said it, Nik appeared at the top of the stairs, hearing her comment.
“Who? What’s happened?” he asked, in his clipped German accent, a deep frown on his forehead.
“Not you, gorgeous,” she said, and kissed him. “We’re talking about bad men.”
“Oh them,” Nik said, looking relieved. “Can’t stay, I just slipped out on my way from physio into the training room.”
“They’re right next to each other,” I said.
“I know, so it was a fair slip,” he agreed.
“I’ve got to go talk to Dan,” I said, looking for a way to give them some privacy and spotting the journo from radio K-Talk inside the media room, “Have a good game, Nik.”
“Thanks Carla,” he said, not taking his eyes off Sasha.
I left the two cute lovebirds and went back into the media box, before Sasha rejoined me and escorted me to sit with the WAGS for the first time as The Russian’s girlfriend.
*****
“You really don’t have to walk me up here,” I said to Sasha as we entered the VIP and partners area.
“Are you kidding me? Like I’m going to have grumpy bum giving me a hard time on Monday morning,” she said, and snorted.
I laughed, thinking of The Russian holding court in the office. We got to the grandstand we needed and Sasha walked straight in, wearing her Saints’ uniform; she greeted the security guy. I flashed my VIP pass, but he recognized me and congratulated me on my game last night. So kind.
Mia and Alice were both there, along with their younger brothers whom I met – Alice was in her Saints’ uniform, so I was guessing she had been working earlier or was still on the job. Then Eddie’s partner Tiffany arrived, along with Buzz’s fiancée, Laura. Tiff and Laura insisted I sit next to them, which was great ... I really liked Tiff, and Laura was a lot of fun. The two of them together were a bit outrageous and outspoken, which was just what I needed – a distraction.
“You know our boys don’t like each other,” Laura nudged me, “… so we should become best friends.”
“Men,” I shook my head and they both laughed. Then the coach’s wife, Elizabeth, came over to greet us and I met her for the first time. She would have been in her fifties, and so striking. I had heard she was an ex-model and she still had the classic good looks and grooming.
“Ah,” she said, smiling at me as she took my hand. “I heard that The Russian had lost his heart and I can see why.”
“Thank you,” I said, delighted to hear word traveled fast.
“Congratulations on a very impressive last game too,” she said. “I was allowed to watch a bit of it when all the other soccer games had finished,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.
I laughed.
“I know the feeling ... I’m always torn between sports, but living alone I usually control the remote,” I told her. We spoke for a few minutes and then, Elizabeth went to sit with a friend, and Tiff, Laura and I went up to the bar to grab a drink. We got back just in time as the boys began to come out on the oval. I looked out for my guy ... I was so excited to be able to watch the whole game without reporting on it.
The Russian, like all the players, had his own dedicated fan group and his fans were a mix of all ages, especially young kids and females keen to get his attention. There were banners with his name on it, and as he did the lap of the ground with the team, the kids ran along the edges calling out to him and other players. As he came around to my side, his eyes sought me out in our grandstand and when he found me, I swear his chest deflated as he relaxed and exhaled. For me it was the opposite – my heart rate went up and my body went on alert. Mm, funny that.
The Saints were playing the New York Reds and last time they had played them, it had been a draw. Both teams were determined not to let that happen again, although it was a bit of an occupational hazard in soccer.
“That’s a fine butt your man has there,” Tiffany nudged me, and Laura burst out laughing.
“You can’t say that,” Laura said.
“Why not?” Tiffany looked horrified. “I can admire the view.”
“It is a fine butt,” I agreed, “there are quite a few fine looking butts down there.”
Laura shook her head. “Carla, do not encourage her. Tiffany, you look at your own man’s butt.”
“Oh, I’ve seen Eddie’s butt many a time and I never tire of it,” Tiffany began. As if he knew we were talking about him, Eddie looked straight up at us and gave Tiffany a quick smile.
“Ain’t love grand?” I said.
“It will be if they win,” Tiffany said.
“Hell yeah. When they lose, Buzz goes into this deep funk ... takes all my skills to lift him out.”
It made me think about my own performance in relationships, after the Suns lost games. Sometimes you forget to think about the partner and what they go through too.
The game began and the crowd really got into it, and so did we. It was so much fun to be watching instead of working, to
see The Russian’s moves, watch him in action, watch his concentration and the way he read the play. It was great to see the other guys playing as a team too, especially now that I was getting to know them all personally. Plus, I got to watch The Russian for the whole game and not have to give equal time to all players ... bliss.
The game started off fast and full-on, as if both teams decided it was the first half that was going to win the match. We—being the Saints—got an early goal and we went berserk, so did the fans. It was nicely fed to Tomás who put it away; we all congratulated Alice as if she had kicked it herself. Just as the Reds looked like they were going to increase their assault, my man The Russian counter-attacked with venom, redirecting the ball and feeding it to Captain Fantastic, who moved it back down to the Kaiser—Nik, Sasha’s man—and in it went for a goal. We were so excited that nothing could have ever provided the high we were on.
The boys were looking good out there, and my guy in particular was looking gorgeous – determined, sweaty, in-charge and mine. Mm, I would have loved to do him right there, right then. I opened my bottle of water and took a cooling sip ... better. The Saints had a 2-0 lead going into half-time, and as the boys left the field, Laura and Tiffany dragged me back to the bar. They were such a bad influence.
I made sure I was back in place before the team ran out again, and right from the start the NY Reds were in trouble. Thank goodness – I know it’s great for the fans, but I can’t stand a tense and close game when I’m emotionally involved ... it just kills you. The Saints had it all over the NY Reds; in fact, it just looked like the visitors lacked imagination. In the heat of the moment the referee pulled out the yellow card for one of the opposition who was playing against Buzz – I heard Tiffany mutter “thank God it wasn’t Buzz”.
It was all downhill from there for the Reds; the Saints brought it home and sealed the result with a fantastic display of team effort – Lucas, The Russian, Harry and Tomás were all involved in that final goal, and the Saints booked their place in the finals. At the final whistle, the huge crowd was on its feet cheering the Saints who had taken the game 4-1.
It was going to be a great night, and tomorrow, The Russian was going to meet my parents.
Chapter 29
It was my turn to pick the music and I put on one of my favorites; The Russian gave it a nod of approval. We were doing the drive to my parents’ place for Monday lunch. I know, traditionally people have Sunday lunch, but we both work or play on Sundays and I have Mondays off. The Russian took the day off too, leaving Eddie in charge and Sasha gloating she’d get to the coffee van before him for once. We were almost tempted to swing by for a coffee on our way, just to beat her and see her reaction ... ha, that would have been worth it. Oh, I forgot I was supposed to be on her side when it came to the coffee van!
I glanced at The Russian as he drove ... so handsome. He was wearing a collared black shirt with his jeans and Dr Martens – plenty of rubber on those soles to make a quick escape I imagine. Feeling my gaze, he looked in my direction.
“I’m not nervous!” he said, again.
“Are you sure?” I teased him. “Not even just a bit?”
He scoffed. “Parents love me. I’m charming, handsome, a good prospect ...”
“Modest,” I added.
“Modest,” he agreed. “I’m big enough to look after their daughter and successful enough to give her a good life. Although I failed on one of those of late.”
I leaned over to run my hand along his arm, up to his shoulders, and massaged his neck.
“Don’t say that,” I said, “you can’t be with me twenty-four hours a day, and I was stupid getting into his taxi ... let’s not go there.”
“If you keep doing that we’ll be going somewhere else very shortly, and it’s got nothing to do with your folks,” The Russian said, as I kneaded his neck.
I laughed and drew back a little to keep my hand on his shoulder.
“So, tell me all I need to know about your family in five minutes,” The Russian said.
I puffed my cheeks out and expelled the air slowly.
“Okay. Mom’s the straight-shooter, tough one. She organizes Dad, the church, me, the neighborhood, anything she can. She’s pragmatic and she won’t fall instantly in love with you, no matter how adorable I think you are, or you think you are,” I said.
He scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”
I didn’t mention that she had never liked any of my boyfriends. They all fell into categories: too smart, too rude, too disrespectful, too lacking in ambition, not good enough for me, and on it went. I didn’t want to make The Russian be anything but himself around her. I thought about Dad and filled The Russian in.
“Dad is a gentle, kind man with a typical sort of dad sense of humor. His parishioners love him because he is compassionate and open, and he can be very serious when he needs to be, and very over-protective of me.”
“Hmm, great,” The Russian said. I could only imagine what was going on in his mind. “Are you closer to him?” he asked.
“Definitely. Mom is not big on affection. But that’s okay, I know she’s there for me and she’s proud of me ... I think,” I said.
“How could she not be? So am I going to meet any brothers or sisters that I have to charm as well?” he asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“No,” I smiled and shook my head at him.
“That’s fine, I’ve won over the most important family member,” he said.
“That you have,” I agreed. “But ... don’t mention the incident the other night to them, please.”
“Our great sex? Hardly!” The Russian said, keeping it light.
I rolled my eyes. “No you big head, the taxi incident.”
The Russian smiled. “I won’t. But can I ask why?”
“Because Mom is pragmatic and Dad is over-protective. I’ll get a lecture on personal safety from Mom who’ll say it was my fault for putting myself in that situation, and then Dad will start calling me every second day. I’ve left home, I like it that way,” I said.
“You’ve said that several times now since we’ve met. Clearly as an only child you must have felt smothered or something ... but don’t worry, I won’t leave you there.”
I was going to correct him but then the road to the church came into view and I had to give The Russian directions. As we turned into the street, I felt a warm familiarity seeing the church and my parents’ house.
He placed his hand on my leg and I jumped. I realized where that reaction came from.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay ... it will take you a little while.”
I swallowed; my heart was racing as the thought of that night came back to me. I tried to not think about it.
“This is nice,” The Russian said, admiring the church and its grounds.
I guess it did look nice ... quaint, even a bit old worldish. I pointed to the best place for him to park and he swung the car in and turned off the ignition. He took a deep breath. I knew he was a little nervous, and then he confirmed it.
“Your Dad’s going to want to have a chat with me isn’t he? About this whole trust issue and his little girl?” he turned my way.
“Only if you want to talk about it,” I said. “Dad wouldn’t force anyone to talk about personal stuff unless they wanted to, but he has some experience in his area.”
The Russian nodded, looking more uncomfortable than ever.
“Come on,” I said, opening the car door, “come and meet my parents.”
*****
As we came up the path, the front door opened and Mom and Dad came out. They were about the same height, both thin, and I noticed Mom had dressed up a little ... that was nice. Dad was in his traditional white business shirt and black pants, a little cross clipped to his collar.
I walked in front, taking The Russian’s hand. My parents kissed me and they both shook The Russian’s hand. He called them Mrs Brooker and Reverend respectively, but they insisted on Kathleen and Michael
. We both towered over them.
“Well, I never thought we’d meet someone taller than our Carla, sometimes we wonder where she came from,” my father joked, looking up at The Russian who smiled and relaxed a little.
“Both of my parents are tall, so I’m legitimate,” The Russian joked.
I couldn’t believe it, but I swear my Mom smiled a charming smile at him. I looked from her to The Russian and back to Mom again. Unbelievable ... must’ve been the big lion aura; he was such an alpha. We followed them both in and I gave him a look.
“What?” he asked innocently.
I could smell a roast, Mom had cooked my favorite—probably everyone’s favorite—and Dad paused on the way through to answer the phone.
“Unless they’re dying, Michael, tell them that you are unavailable until after two,” she said, and Dad nodded.
The Russian chuckled. I guess that had been pretty funny, but normal for us.
“What can I do to help, Mom?” I asked.
“Nothing, I’m organized,” she said, as if I had ever doubted it. “Why don’t you show Alex around the church and yard, and then when your father is off the phone, we’ll have lunch.” She gave Alex a warm smile as she said it. What the fuck? He’d be gloating about that all the way home ... sigh.
I took his hand as we went on the grand, but very small, tour. What was funny for me—funny weird—was that I’d never taken a guy home, and I’d entered my house a thousand times, but now I was looking at it through The Russian’s eyes. I went through the back of the house and showed him Mom’s prized vegetable and herb garden, and on the other side her prized flower garden. Ever practical, she fed us and supplied fresh flowers to the church. The woman was wasted organizing this small church community; she should have been working for the United Nations.
I then took The Russian through the churchyard and into the church. He admired the stained glasses windows, which were truly beautiful, and the intimacy of the small church.
“When was the last time you went to church?” I asked him.