by Avery Wilde
Mikey grinned. “Fifteen years. Doesn’t seem it some days. Others it really does. Circle of life.”
“She’s done things to upset you, right?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know about upset. She’s got on my wick from time to time, I know that.”
“Have you done things to upset her?”
Mikey considered the question. “I broke our wedding photo. That was a bad day. Threw something at the TV during the football. She said I obviously didn’t care. I said it was just a photo and it didn’t mean anything. Turns out that was the wrong thing to say.”
“But she forgave you?”
“She’s a wonderful woman,” he replied. “She realized I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Do you think she could ever do anything you wouldn’t forgive?”
Again, Mikey considered this—he obviously liked to give people a full answer to their enquiries. “I don’t know, love,” he finally said. “These things…you can only really know when they happen. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Um….”
As I hesitated, he spoke again. “You can tell me anything, love. I won’t judge.”
“You really can’t tell anyone.”
Mikey tapped his nose. “Driver-passenger confidentiality. I tell you, I’ll keep your secret better than any lawyer or doctor.”
I took a deep breath. Then I poured out the whole story and when I was done, Mikey responded in typical fashion. “Want me and my brother to settle his hash?”
I couldn’t help grinning at that. “No thanks. I…I don’t want him to think that he matters. Because he doesn’t.”
***
By the time I arrived back in the States, I had such a backlog of texts and voicemails from Liam that I almost considered changing my phone number. I decided not to read or listen to them, and then promptly reversed myself and listened to every single one. They were all on a theme—it wasn’t his fault, Brian had drugged him to get the pictures he wanted in the papers, he never actually did anything…he had in fact been far too out of it to do anything. If I didn’t believe him, then he was starting legal proceedings against Brian and that would surely provide proof.
I deleted the messages. There were some men you simply couldn’t trust. He was probably making up the whole story, and as for the court case, he’d already been considering getting rid of Brian, and this sort of attention-grabbing story was a good way of doing it. With that much money you could make any story appear true, bribe doctors and lawyers and so on. It was all too easy.
Bottom line: I just didn’t believe him anymore, and I’d made a huge mistake when I’d decided to trust him after the model incident at the car show. It was like that old saying—fool me once, shame on you…but fool me twice, shame on me.
Right now I was more than ashamed at how dumb I’d been. I was devastated.
I tried to put Liam behind me by concentrating on other issues in my life—like the fact that I was probably going to be fired the minute I set foot in the office. If I hadn’t spent the whole trip back thinking about Liam, as much I wanted to think of anything else, then I would’ve spent it worrying about what I was going to say to my boss. Unfortunately, I still had no idea what to say.
When the moment finally arrived, I stepped into his office, legs trembling and heart racing. I decided to take a page from Lauren’s book and simply tell him the truth, including the fact that I’d deliberately lied to extend my stay in Britain.
Granger listened to every word with a curious expression on his face. When I finished, he simply said, “Do you want to keep your job here?”
“More than anything.”
“And yet you’ve come in here to tell me that you lied to me and slept with an interview subject.”
I could only nod. “I thought I owed you the truth, and I understand if you want me gone.”
Granger nodded back. “Keep that attitude, and we’re golden. All I ever want from you as a journalist and an employee is the truth.”
I started to realize that I wasn’t actually being fired.
“Generally speaking,” Granger went on, “I’d prefer you not to sleep with the men you’re supposed to be interviewing. Or women, I don’t judge. On the other hand,” he said, holding up my article. “Keep producing fantastic copy like this and you can screw your way through the NBA for all I care. Just be honest about it.” He passed some pages across the table to me. “Here’s your new contract.”
“New contract?” I said, bewildered.
“Like I said, the work you’ve been doing is fantastic. I’m promoting you.”
“Promoting me?”
“Stop acting like a parrot and sign the damn thing,” he said with an eye-roll.
“But I…I…”
“You see, that’s why I’m promoting you,” said Granger, arching an eyebrow. “It’s your way with words.”
***
With a new job, which was essentially the same as my old job but at a higher salary, I was keen to throw myself back into sport, and most particularly into American sport. Most of all, I was keen to put Liam Croft behind me, but at the present, it was hard to be a sports journalist and avoid him. In fact, it was damn hard to live in the world and avoid him—his smug face stared from the front of every newspaper and magazine, and it grinned from billboards and flashed across TV screens and computer monitors. It wasn’t just that he and his team had won the Premiership; Liam had also been awarded a coveted place in the England squad, and with the World Cup looming on the horizon, he was hotly tipped to be Captain.
But there was more than that. Away from sport, Liam was still making headlines. Initially there had been the party photographs which had gone around the world in seconds on the internet, quickly followed by other news media. The validity of these pictures had been instantly denied by the Croft camp, and Brian Thomas—who, it was claimed, had engineered the pictures—had been fired and taken to court. With the affair in court, the details suddenly became much more public; the three girls involved sold salacious stories to newspapers and appeared on chat shows, each apparently trying to out-do each other in how graphic and shocking a story they told about ‘their night with Liam’. By the time Liam’s lawyer found a money trail from the girls that led back to Brian Thomas, it was too late, the damage was done.
The image of Liam Croft, the playboy player, was indelibly imprinted on the world’s collective consciousness.
There was no way I could avoid all of this, not least because it was my job, but I didn’t go into the details. When I finally weakened and read some of Liam’s current press, I felt a pang of pity for him. He’d ended up where he least wanted to be, and was setting an absolutely terrible example to the kids who idolized him so much. I instantly crushed the germ of sympathy—all that might be true, but he’d brought it all on himself by once again acting like a dick. How many times could you forgive a person if they kept on making the same mistake? Brian Thomas might be an unscrupulous man, but Liam’s claims that he’d drugged him…that just seemed too far, even for Brian. The only thing Brian was seemingly guilty of was paying the three girls to have a good time at the party with Liam, and it wasn’t exactly uncommon for managers to hire models and actresses to populate parties and have fun with players.
There was also no doubt in my mind that it’d been Brian who’d told Granger about me and Liam, because that was something he’d threatened to do in the past; a vindictive act which had thankfully backfired. But drugging his own client and paying three women to pose for staged photographs as a publicity stunt—that was entering the realms of fantasy.
I pushed the matter from my mind—Liam would be fine, he could take care of himself, and he would live a long, happy and shallow life. I needed to focus on myself.
It was about two weeks after my return to America now, and I was chatting to my father on the phone.
“You still seem a bit down,” Dad said.
I hadn’t told him about Liam and the events in the UK. He’d
read my articles with pride and insisted on a full report on my return, but I knew that telling him the full story would only upset him. Worse still, there was a good chance that if I did tell him, he would be heading over to England on the next plane to find Liam and ‘settle his hash’, as Mikey would have put it.
“Dad, I’m fine.”
“You know what would cheer you up?”
“I don’t need cheering up. I’m fine!”
“How about we hit the game this Saturday?”
I was about to reaffirm my fineness but stopped. Going to see a game with Dad sounded good. When I’d been a kid it was a weekly ritual, and we still tried to meet up to watch some live sport or other as often as we could, but I’d been so busy lately that it had been months. And, of course, however much I might say otherwise to my father, I wasn’t fine, and I could use cheering up. This sounded ideal.
“Sure. Let’s do it,” I said.
“Good. I’ve already got the tickets.”
“Dad!”
“I know my little girl.”
I smiled. “Usual seats?”
We’d been occupying the same seats in the baseball stadium since I was old enough to yell out and call the umpire names.
“What do you think?”
I grinned widely. That was what sport was about—families going out and enjoying themselves, making memories. It was sports people and their managers who were dragging the industry down with product placement, commercialism and sponsorship deals. It would do me good to simply sit in a crowd and watch a ball game.
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter 24
Allison
Saturday came quickly, and I was horrified to find myself running late. That wasn’t like me. It just went to show how strung-out I’d been recently—but this would do me some good. I’d texted my Dad a few minutes ago to let him know, and my ticket had been left at the gate so I was able to run straight in, up the familiar stairs and down the familiar corridors towards the familiar hum and buzz of an excited crowd.
The seats that my father and I always got were good. Not the best in the place—we couldn’t afford that—but good enough, and I could’ve found my way to them blindfolded.
But when I arrived at them, there was a surprise waiting for me.
Liam.
“I guess you had to be the one who turns up late at least once,” he said, smiling hopefully at me from my father’s seat.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. I wanted to storm away, but dammit…it was good to see him. Those sinful eyes of his were almost irresistible.
Almost.
“I need someone to explain this game to me,” he replied. “I thought it was essentially cricket with a different shaped stick, but I don’t know what the hell’s going on down there.”
“You can’t compare baseball to cricket!”
Liam grinned at me. “So I’m learning.” He looked around the stadium. “I’m loving America, though. No one knows who I am here. Although it would be nice if one person could recognize me. You know—for the ego.”
I rolled my eyes. “Your ego is fine. Where’s my Dad?”
Liam held up his hands. “Please don’t be mad at him…”
“I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at you! Where is he? Tied up in the trunk of your car or something?”
He chuckled, which only made me angrier. “Look, I told your father what happened between us…” he began.
“You what?” I hissed in anger, but I sounded more like a drunken cat than anything threatening. Liam had always had a funny effect on me. “If I’d wanted him to know, I’d have told him myself.”
“Well, I sort of assumed you had,” Liam said. “And by the time I realized you hadn’t, it was rather too late for me to backtrack. Really fucking awkward conversation, if I’m honest. Anyway, he thought that I should have a chance to talk to you.”
“Then you told him the wrong story.”
“I told him the truth.”
“I don’t think you even know the meaning of the word!” I said, crossing my arms.
Liam shrugged. “I don’t know if your Dad believed me either—nice guy by the way, I should’ve said—Bobby Charlton fan, which you’ve got to respect. Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t know if he believed me but he thought you ought to hear my version and make up your own mind, because you’ve obviously been upset since you got back.”
“I haven’t been upset!” I practically squawked. Even with the noise of the ballgame around me, I was aware of how shriekingly loud that had been. “I’m going.”
I turned on my heel and stalked towards the doors. I just couldn’t talk to this man who’d betrayed me, lied to me and broken my hea…no. I wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction by even thinking that right now.
“Allison!” Liam chased after me. “Just let me give you my side of the story.”
“Seen it,” I said bluntly, walking briskly on without breaking my pace. “It’s all over the papers. You say you were set up by Brian. All very believable, and not at all like a bullshit soap opera…”
“You see, I knew you’d take that attitude, because it really does sound like something out of a bad telenovela. Evil villain manager and all,” said Liam, struggling to take something out of a bag he was carrying as he continued to chase me. “But look! Toxicology reports from the hospital confirming the presence of barbiturates in my blood that night.”
I snorted. “Like that couldn’t be faked. There’s gotta be a lot of doctors who’d be happy to do that in return for a cut of your fortune.”
“A court of law accepted them as real just two days ago, which I suppose you haven’t heard, as that little fact hasn’t hit the papers yet,” Liam replied. “And I’m going to win the case, you know. A jury of unbiased people is going to say that Brian mismanaged and drugged me.”
“Gullible Englishmen.”
Liam ran around to face me, but I walked on so he was forced to walk backwards in front of me. “For fuck’s sake, Allison. Can you just stop for one second?”
I felt a pang of guilt for being such a bitch and refusing to listen to a single word, so I stopped in my tracks. He’d come all this way; I owed him at least a conversation.
He sighed with relief. “Look, I don’t care if you forgive me or take me back, I just need you to know my side of the story. Actually, that’s a lie, I’ll never be happy again if you don’t forgive me and take me back, but I would live with it, very fucking reluctantly. What I can’t live with is you thinking that I would do something like this to someone like you. I can’t bear the idea of you thinking that three girls—or five or ten—could possibly be worth one of you. You are the single most wonderful woman I have ever met, and whatever happens here and now, you will remain forever and always the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. I know I’m a screw-up, and I don’t and never could deserve you, but you’re perfect, and it’s really important to me that you know that, because I don’t want you to take any personal negatives away from this.”
I didn’t speak yet. I couldn’t.
“I love you,” he added. “I flew all the way here just to tell you that.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “I love…” I trailed off for a second. I couldn’t let him know how I still felt about him, deep down. “I mean, I loved you too! And then it all got ruined. I have no idea what to think, but I just feel like I can’t trust you. I feel so stupid because I did trust you, more than once, and both times I was made to look like a complete and utter fool.”
Liam tried to hug me, but I pulled away.
“Will you give me one last chance to convince you? Please. Just trust me that much,” he said.
And, though I couldn’t imagine why, I did.
Liam led the way to a private room. “I knew you might not believe me, and I get that my shitty past is against me. Then there was that debacle with the blonde model at the car show, which made it even harder for you to trust me. But maybe if I can prove to you tha
t I’m telling the truth, then you can start to trust me again.”
He opened the door, and I did my second double-take of the day. Seeing Liam in my father’s seat earlier had been a surprise, but seeing Mikey in here, watching the game through a window, was an absolute shock. He looked around at me.
“Hello, love. This is a turn up, eh? The wife and kids are loving it, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out the rules of your baseball. Bloody ridiculous game.”
“Mikey?” I said. I was now wondering if this was all some strange dream.
“He flew me over,” Mikey said, pointing at Liam. “And the wife and kids. Put us all up in a swanky hotel. Very nice. Chocolates on the pillows and everything.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, when I last saw you…” Mikey sat down, his most comfortable position for storytelling. “You were upset as hell, and I know you told me not to, but I thought I’d settle the man’s hash.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my god. You were actually going to beat up Liam?”
He nodded. “Seemed to be the thing to do. You’d mentioned the name of the nightclub where he was and I drove over there, planning to hang about outside until he came out and then…”
“Settle his hash?”
“Exactly!” Mikey grinned. “Not a subtle plan, I’ll grant you, but it seemed to suit the demands of the situation. Anyway, long story short—I arrived and ducked down in an alleyway by the club entrance and there, from behind me, was a noise. I looked around and there was a body lying by the wall—spark out, but with eyes still open. I thought he was dead for a second, because you see the odd corpse as a London cabbie, but he was still making noises so I thought: ‘hospital, quick smart’. It was only when I got him into the cab that I saw who he was and I thought to myself…I thought: ‘Hello, he’s the one whose hash I’m supposed to be settling’, which you can’t do when the man’s unconscious, unless he’s really big. Then I thought: ‘isn’t he supposed to be having a foursome with three young women right about now? The state of him, he’s not doing anything with anyone’. Anyway, by the time I was done thinking, I got to the hospital and dropped him off. But I waited around because I wanted to know what had been going on—some mischief, I was thinking—and if he came around and sobered up I thought I could still settle his hash that night; save myself another journey. Then the doctor comes out and says, ‘Are you family?’ Now, I must have misheard because I thought he said ‘Are you the cabbie?’ Terrible error on my part, because I said ‘yes’, and he gave me all the juicy details. Anyway, long story short…he’d been drugged.”