Player's Ultimatum

by Koko Brown

  The pre-game swag contained dark chocolate and fresh fruits, a pair of designer aviator shades and a brand new cell phone and wireless headphones. Making the finals at the European Cup was definitely worth the perks alone.

  Wanting to see what goodies his teammates scored, Robbie jumped up and knocked on the adjoining guest room door. When the door opened, Paolo stood on the other side wearing the free set of wireless headphones.

  “Hey...um...I.” At a loss for words, Robbie pointed over to the basket tossed on the bed. Why was he so nervous? He wasn’t carrying the guy’s baby. “Just wondering if you got the same basket I did.”

  When Paulo pulled off the headphones, Robbie noticed his hardened expression and how his normally clean shaven appearance needed some help. The man looked as if he hadn’t shaved in days. Still, Robbie could see his appeal. Paolo Saito possessed a dark, exotic handsomeness that could make both men and women swoon.

  “All the players on both teams receive them. It’s cheap advertising.”

  Robbie nodded still shocked he and Paolo had adjoining rooms. He was about to ask how he was doing, since he felt bad for the guy, but someone knocked at his door.

  “I better let you go. You have a visitor.” Paulo stepped back and shut the adjoining door between their rooms. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Robbie walked over to his room door and answered it.

  “Hey babyyy!” Chris purred, sliding through the door.

  Robbie barely had the door shut, before his boyfriend wrapped his arms around him and started kissing him all over his neck and pawing at his t-shirt. Starved for male attention since his absence, Robbie melted into him.

  “Wha-what are you doing here?” he asked. Suddenly remembering his precarious position, he pulled Chris’s arms from around his neck.

  “I’m here to support my man! Isn’t this a great surprise? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “Both,” Robbie admitted, allowing his boyfriend of three years to pull him back into his arms. “But you have to go.”

  Chris didn’t let go. And as the taller and heavier of the either of them, Robbie couldn’t make him budge.

  “Why can’t we play awhile?” Chris leaned in to whisper in his ear, fully well knowing it was one of Robbie’s weak spots. “Your match isn’t until Thursday. Don’t you miss me?”

  Robbie groaned. He missed Chris more than life itself. Giving in, Robbie placed his arm around his boyfriend’s waist then cocked his head to welcome him properly.

  “What the fu—”

  Robbie released Chris so quickly, he fell onto the bed, face first.

  “I-I…damn I was just wondering if you wanted to go downstairs for something to eat,” Paolo rushed to explain his sudden appearance at the door between their rooms.

  Robbie noted Paulo’s confusion. Who wouldn’t be if you thought your teammate was straight and engaged. And here he was in his hotel room with another man’s tongue almost down his throat. It was time to come clean.

  Before Robbie could explain, Paulo walked over to him and punched him in the jaw, sending Robbie sprawling on top of Chris.

  “I thought I was a bastard. Tell Yvonne or I will,” he warned, “I will not allow you to hurt her like I did.” Paolo turned around and slammed the door between their rooms. Robbie waited to hear the lock catch, it didn’t.

  Seeing this as an opening, Robbie shooed Chris out of the room with promises he’d see him later, then he walked into Paolo’s room.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I need to talk to you about what you just saw.” Sighing, Robbie leaned up against the wall. “Chris and I have been together for three years. Yvonne isn’t really my fiancée. She’s my best friend. I paid her to sit out her last semester of graduate school to come over here and play house so I can ink a lucrative contract with Roma Internazionale. I know you must be shocked and I fully understand.”

  Paulo sat down heavily on the bed and raked his hand over his mouth. “I’m not shocked. I’m angry, and it’s all self-directed.”

  Now it was Robbie’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve caused all of this. Earlier in the season, I hired a photographer to follow you. I thought you were the reason João committed suicide. I was too short-sighted to see he’d been suffering from depression long before you earned your spot on the soccer team.”

  “Seeing you with your lover, I now realize the rumors that dogged you were the very same ones that made João’s life a living hell. Instead of being his best friend, and accepting him when he came out, I turned my back on him. I helped him put a gun in his mouth.”

  Dazed by Paolo’s confession, Robbie sat on the other end of the bed.

  “I’m pretty sure my foolishness made your life and Yvonne’s a living hell.”

  Robbie shrugged. “It hasn’t been all bad. I love having Yvonne around.”

  “I do too.” Robbie noted the inflection in Paolo’s voice. Seems Yvonne wasn’t the only one who had it bad.

  “What do you plan to do about Yvonne and the baby she’s carrying? I’m sure you know by now it’s yours.”

  A small smile played along Paolo’s lips. “I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me.” Paulo rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to take care of first, so I’d appreciate your silence on the matter.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Robbie pretended to lock his lips.

  Paolo grinned at his antics and Robbie’s libido responded.

  Too bad he was her best friend’s baby daddy.

  *****

  Yvonne shifted uncomfortably. She was hot, jet lagged and suffering from morning sickness. To top it off she’d been stuck in her arena seat for the past hour and a half in order to beat the crush.

  “Your flight from Rome must have been hell. You look like you want to spew chunks.” Keitha patted Yvonne’s hand sympathetically.

  “We hit quite a bit of turbulence. At least I’m prepared, if I do.” Yvonne held up one of six sick bags she took from the airplane.

  “The only time I got that sick was with my four pregnancies.”

  “Four?”

  Yvonne eyed Keitha’s willowy frame and doubted she ever carried one not four. Maybe she had gerbils because she had the figure of a sixteen year old. She on the other hand had already grown to the next bra size and her waist seemed to expand by the minute.

  “I carried four. I might not look it, but I gained more than sixty pounds with each of them. The weight is of no concern once you bring a little one into the world. You’ll see. If you love Robbie as much as I love Freddy, you’ll want to have as many as I did.”

  Highly doubtful, Yvonne mused as she turned her attention to an arena awash with a sea of yellow, green, red and black. Unless Robbie and Chris wanted her to be a surrogate mother, this would be her first and last pregnancy. She and morning sickness were not seeing eye-to-eye.

  Thoughts of the future and her present morning sickness gave way to excitement. The crowd had come to its feet to cheer on the final two teams of the European Cup as they jockeyed onto the field.

  Yvonne’s eyes locked onto Paulo. She hadn’t seen him since their confrontation over a month ago. His hair had grown but other than that he hadn’t changed much. He was still handsome as ever. And he seemed no worse for wear after their last meeting because he laughed and joked around as the team ran through their warm-up drills.

  Eventually, Paulo and Freddy met the captain and co-captain of the Barcelona team in the center of the field. While they exchanged what passed for handshakes, the referee threw a coin into the air and let it drop onto the pitch. All of them eagerly looked to the coin to see who would be given the ball first. The Barcelona captain’s arms shot in the air. It was safe to say they’d won the toss.

  Seconds before kick-off, the volume in the stadium rose to an almost deafening level of clamoring cow bells and fog horns. It only increased when Paolo and his teammates lined up facing Barcelona. The ball was released and like horses in a
gate, they charged toward each other.

  The tackles flew in from both sides. In the first five minutes, Robbie challenged a Barcelona player with a late tackle, which earned him a stern lecture from a referee, but no yellow card.

  Although it seemed like Internazionale had the upper hand in the first twenty five minutes, most of it was spent in variable gridlock in midfield with neither team being able to score.

  Paolo and Robbie executed a stream of excellent crosses and set up a series of probing attacks and a brilliant defensive wall, which threatened to tear Barcelona apart, yet none of their drives connected into a goal. By the end of the first half, Internazionale remained scoreless.

  In the second half, Robbie’s influence over the game’s outcome began to grow and he came agonizingly close to opening the score in the first five minutes with a high 18-yard strike which flashed inches wide.

  The Barcelona squad took advantage of the stunned Internazionale team by taking a brilliant run down the left flank to reach the byline. Their star forward, Antonio Sanchez kicked a low cross in front of Internazionale’s goal, touched off to a teammate who smashed the ball into the net.

  Barcelona’s fans went wild in the stands. Their yellow jerseys seemed to swallow red. They jumped and cheered in wild abandon while their opposing fans sat in stunned silence.

  Unlike their fans, Internazionale was seemingly restored only minutes later. Filled with a combination of urgency and divine inspiration, Robbie and the rest of his teammates, hit Barcelona with wave after wave of attacks. They besieged their opponents so thoroughly that for the next twenty minutes Internazionale only touched their opponent’s backfield.

  Mackie Bijou played a one-two with Paulo that resulted in the Barcelona captain cutting into the penalty area. As Barcelona retreated, Paolo cleverly played his pass back to Bijou who powered an unstoppable drive into the top corner of Barcelona’s net.

  Recovering quickly and with only five minutes to spare, Internazionale fought hard to double their advantage. They ran up field in hot pursuit of the other team. After a drive remarkably deflected off the post, Internazionale charged back up field, once again entering Barcelona’s backfield. Robbie blasted over the ball once it was in his possession. He twisted out of danger from two mid-fielders, and then twelve yards out he set himself up for a side kick to the net.

  The ball arched beautifully in the air. It looked as if it were headed straight into the hands of the Barcelona goalie. However, at the last minute the ball arched out of his reach and crashed into the net.

  Yvonne and Keitha, still standing from the first goal, turned to each other and screamed before falling onto each other’s arms.

  “Come on let’s go meet them on the field before all hell breaks loose.” Keitha grabbed Yvonne’s hand and led the way. They showed their family passes to the security guards and were allowed to enter the field.

  There were still two minutes on the clock. Most of it was eaten up as the players tried to regroup for kick-off. As the clock clicked down to zero, the crowd came to the feet.

  And as expected the stadium fell into classic pandemonium. Dozens of cannons placed strategically around the arena exploded in red and black confetti, showering fans and players alike with Internazionale’s team colors.

  “Look.”

  Keitha pointed to the southern end of the field where about a dozen or so fans stood wearing pink t-shirts and holding large white poster boards. One by one they turned them over until a sentence was spelled.

  Will You Marry Me? Paulo

  Yvonne’s mouth dropped open. Paulo stood in the center of the field with his teammates flanking him. A little black box rested in the palm of his hand.

  Keitha looked at her, then at the message, then back at Paulo. “Oh. My God! He’s going to propose!”

  Yvonne’s legs shook so badly she didn’t know how she held up on the long walk to center field. Paolo walked toward her as if to meet her half way. Yvonne resisted the urge to pinch herself. This couldn’t be happening. Fairytale proposals only happened to other women not plain ole’ Yvonne Floyd.

  Before he cleared midfield, Paolo stopped. He reached out, grabbed Robbie around the neck and crushed his mouth against his. Even though it appeared to be closed mouthed, a collective gasp rippled through the arena.

  “Oh, boy,” Keitha said. “I sure didn’t see this coming.”

  Neither did Yvonne.

  Feeling duped by not only her lover, but her best friend as well, she turned on her heels and left the two most important men in her life in each other’s arms.

  * * * * *

  More than four dozen reporters had pushed their way into the after-game press conference. Some of them Paolo recognized others he did not. He wouldn’t be surprised if half of them weren’t even sports reporters.

  Word had spread quickly about a surprise marriage proposal and Europe’s best football team’s star players wrapped in a passionate kiss. Well maybe not so passionate. No tongue had been involved and he’d kept his hands above the waist.

  All the same, Paolo’s plan had fallen into place with all the key players in attendance.

  On his right, Stefano sat stoned faced. On his left, Robbie looked like a jaguar in headlights. Maggione stood on the far side of the room with a thunderous expression on his face. And a sea of curious onlookers with the world’s ear at their fingertips sat before him.

  Stefano called on Price Quimby first. The sports writer’s column could fill stadium seats or leave them bare. More than one million readers read his witty exposes about the ins and outs of Europe’s football teams on a monthly basis. The fair-haired Brit stood up notepad in hand.

  “First I like to say a lovely match. One of the best I’ve seen in quite some time.” Quimby paused to scratch his chin. “Um…this question is for you Saito.”

  Time to play ball! Paolo leaned forward to adjust his microphone.

  “Was there a meaning behind the kiss?”

  Paolo pretended to consider the question. “No comment,” he said then sat back.

  Quimby’s eyebrow shot skyward as the collective sat forward, practically on the edge of their seats. “So you just like to kiss your male teammates and propose to them as well?”

  “No comment.”

  Price Quimby didn’t give up. He hadn’t gained a legion of readers from lack of tenacity. “Don’t you think you owe your fans an explanation? What about your bosses? They don’t seem very pleased by this sudden display of affection during such a momentous occasion.”

  Paolo shrugged. “It’s no one’s business who I sleep with, who I love or even what I eat for breakfast. My contract, which will be fulfilled at the end of this season, only entitles me to play football, not to act as a role model or moral compass for anyone.”

  His statement produced a flurry of pencils flying across notepads and fingers tapping on the keys of cellular phones. After Price sat down, Stefano called on Anita Sanchez a reporter from one of the Latin American television networks.

  “This question is for Roma Internazionale management.” Paolo glanced over at an uncomfortable looking Maggione. “Does this situation have any bearing on the upcoming free agency of your two star players?”

  Before Maggione answered the question, a reporter in the back held up his Smartphone. “The Edmonton Druids just tweeted they’ll take Saito and Gutierrez, man love and all! They want the European Cup next year.”

  All eyes turned to Maggione for his answer. A muscle ticked in the older man’s jaw. A move to the U.K. wouldn’t be so bad, Paolo mused. As long as he had Yvonne by his side, he’d move to Antarctica.

  “As Paolo said,” Maggione pulled on his silk tie, loosening the knot. “Their personal lives are personal. What they do off the pitch does not play into the outcome of today’s match or even the season. I plan on re-signing both players at the end of the season.”

  In Paolo’s book, the press conference essentially ended with Maggione’s declaration. Being from the old school,
Roma Internazionale’s owner was a man of his word. Both he and Robbie’s contracts were as good as signed. Tired of the media circus, Paolo pushed back from the press table.

  He had a wedding to plan.

  * * * * *

  Yvonne had no problem making it back to her hotel room. Most of Barcelona seemed to be either at the arena or watching the game on television. While she packed, she’d called Nico Matteo and taken him up on his offer.

  Ecstatic over the news, Matteo had provided her with temporary accommodations at his palazzo until she procured her own, which wouldn’t be too hard considering Robbie had just repaid her student loan and Matteo’s offer came with a salary just shy of six figures.

  Before she threw something or broke down into tears, Yvonne pushed Robbie out of her head. He and Paolo’s relationship had been unexpected and heartbreaking. Even now, two weeks later and several hundred miles separating them, she could barely filter that fateful day’s events through her head without having difficulty breathing or shedding tears.

  Hopefully with time and some distance, she would be able to get over Robbie’s betrayal and her love for Paolo. Yvonne slid from behind her desk and stalked over to the panel of windows overlooking Venice.

  “Who am I kidding,” she whispered, barely seeing the Port of Venice in the distance. She would need more than two weeks to get over Paolo Saito, if not months or even years considering she had his child growing inside of her. He’d wheedled his way into her heart like no man had ever done before and she’d never be the same. Yvonne reached up and wiped away a tear.

  Beep

  “Signorina Floyd, the board of directors meeting starts in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks, Carmen. I’m on my way.”

  Yvonne walked over to her desk and checked her face. Thank goodness, her temporary flight of fancy hadn’t mussed up her makeup. She didn’t want to be late for her first meeting with the higher ups.

  All eight board members would be there along with Nico Matteo and some unknown partner, who before today barely attended any of the business meetings.