Once Upon a Player

by Christina Phillips

  I grind the image to dust. Not thinking about it. I open my laptop and start on the work from the agency. Which reminds me, I need to contact them about more contracts.

  Even if Lucas doesn’t seem to think it’s important.

  It’s harder than usual to concentrate, but I finally complete the work and send it back.

  Another three hours before I meet Katie at the White Hart. Not that I feel like going out, but at least on Friday afternoons the alcohol is cheap.

  Katie’s already found us a table by the time I arrive ten minutes late, as I caught the bus instead of bringing the car, since there’s no way I’m driving home later.

  She pushes my drink across the table at me as I collapse opposite her. “No need to ask you how last night went. What happened?”

  I gamely swallow half my cocktail, even though now I’m here, I don’t even feel like getting drunk. “I walked out after an hour.”

  She’s clearly torn between admiration and shock. “Why?”

  I prop my chin on my hand as disjointed fragments of last night replay through my brain-splitting headache, which hasn’t budged all day, despite all the painkillers.

  Where do I even start? The only thing I keep seeing is the disbelief on Lucas’s face and his scornful retort.

  Don’t make up some lame excuse.

  “I was stupid to think it could ever work between us.” I take another sip of my drink, but it’s no good. Alcohol isn’t going to help. “You were right. I should’ve never gone out with him.”

  “But what did he do?” She sounds genuinely confused, and that’s surprising. She’s always had such a low opinion of footballers, I would’ve thought she’d jump to the worst possible conclusion straightaway.

  Yes, but she’d be wrong because Lucas didn’t cheat on me…

  I don’t know anything for sure.

  Shut the fuck up, Violet.

  “He didn’t believe me when I told him about Mum.”

  Her face scrunches in obvious confusion. “That doesn’t even make sense. Why wouldn’t he believe you?”

  Because I blurted it out at the wrong moment.

  Well, okay, so it was a completely random comment when we were talking about going to Madrid, but that was no excuse for him to be so heartless.

  Unless he really did think I was just making excuses?

  Wait. What? No, why would he think that?

  “I’m still trying to figure it out,” Katie says, scattering my tangled thoughts. “You tell him your mum’s sick, and he says he doesn’t believe you? Who even says that?”

  “No.” I rush to his defense before I even realize what I’m doing. “It wasn’t like that. I think”—an eerie shiver races over my arms as a new certainty grips me—“he thought I was just trying to fob him off.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he thought. He had no right to be so nasty about your mum.”

  Heat eats through me until I’m burning from the inside out. Katie’s thinking the worst about him, and the more I replay that conversation in my head, the less sure I am about anything.

  “It’s complicated.” I groan at the cliché and cradle my aching forehead with my hand.

  “Yeah?” Katie doesn’t sound convinced. “Try me.”

  “There were these girls.” I’m reluctant to tell her, because here, in the pub, as I try and sort everything out, it doesn’t seem quite as awful as it all did last night.

  “What, and he played tonsil hockey with them in front of you? Bastard.”

  “No, it was nothing like that. Well,” I let out a defeated sigh. “I think he’d dated them all in the past, but that wasn’t the problem.” Not that I’d been thrilled to come face to face with three of his exes, but they seemed nice, even if I got the feeling Pene still wanted to climb inside his boxers.

  Katie gives a cynical cough. “That wasn’t a problem? Really?”

  “Yes, really. I mean, the parties and things he goes to. It was bound to happen, wasn’t it? But it was the way he just casually invited them all to go to Madrid with him.”

  “Why would he invite a bunch of girls to go with him? That’s just wrong. No wonder you walked.”

  It was wrong. I wrap her indignation around me like a fluffy blanket, but there’s an uneasy prickle worming through my chest.

  Did he really say that, Vi?

  They were talking about parties. Hypothetical parties, at that. And what did Lucas say?

  Sure, everyone’s invited.

  And then he’d swept his gaze around the deck as though he was including, literally, everyone.

  Shiiiiit…

  He was just being his usual, friendly self. And big deal, so he said the same thing he’d said to me. There aren’t that many different ways of saying it’s only a two-hour flight and asking if that’s a problem, are there?

  It’s like forked lightning spikes through my throbbing head, and I stifle a groan. I’m sick with worry about Mum, but yesterday I was still in shock. If I hadn’t been on the edge of cracking, would I have taken everything so personally?

  No, I wouldn’t.

  “The thing is,” I know I’m going off on a tangent, but it shocked me last night, and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. “He expected me to just leave everything behind and go to Madrid with him. Without even asking if that’s what I wanted.”

  He basically swept aside my jobs as though they were nothing. I keep that to myself, as I can’t even explain to my best friend how much that still haunts me.

  Katie narrows her eyes but clearly decides to play along. “You did agree, though. Unless I totally misunderstood what you were talking about the other day.”

  “No, that was different. I thought he wanted a long-distance relationship. But last night he was so sure we were moving out there together. It was like he couldn’t believe it when I didn’t say yes.”

  She sniffs. “You know what that makes him, don’t you? An entitled prat.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lucas

  It’s early afternoon when I crawl out of bed, still wearing the shirt I wore last night. I don’t remember what time I got home. We hit a couple of nightclubs after the cruise, and as usual, I was the life and soul. The only difference between now and before I met Violet was this time there was a sick, hollow sensation filling my chest, and at the end of the party, I didn’t bring a chick back with me.

  I yank open the bedroom door and stumble across the hall toward the kitchen. Even though everyone saw me arrive with Violet, it didn’t stop a few of the girls hitting on me after she left.

  She fucking left. I still can’t believe it. What the hell happened last night? Everything was great. And then it was shit.

  The coffee jug clatters onto the workbench, and after grabbing a bag of coffee beans from the cupboard, I bang the door shut, but it doesn’t give much satisfaction. Neither does the image of Will’s head rising from the sofa in the sitting room.

  “Morning,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Could you make any more noise while you’re at it?”

  Since I didn’t ask or want him to stay the night, I ignore him. “There is a spare bedroom. Why’d you crash on the sofa?” Yeah okay, so I suck at ignoring him.

  Yolanda wanders into the kitchen, answering my question. “Hey, Lucas.” She pats my arm as she passes me to find a cup. “How are you feeling?”

  Just. Fucking. Great.

  I squint at my phone, but Violet still hasn’t left a message or text, so I drop it back onto the workbench.

  Yolanda puts the coffee on and then admires the view through the window, as though she’s never seen it before.

  I eye my phone again but manage to resist picking it up. She’ll call me. She’s just making me sweat, that’s all.

  Will rolls off the sofa and staggers across the room. He folds his arms on the workbench between us and cocks his head. “You wanna talk about this, bro?”

  I give him a death stare. “Fuck off.”

  “Fair enou
gh.” He nods sagely.

  My phone rings, and I consider being cool and letting it go to voicemail, but before the thought has even finished forming, I’ve grabbed it.

  “What?” I stare at the ID in disbelief. “Penelope?” I shove the damn thing in my shirt pocket, fold my arms, and glare at my two best friends who aren’t even pretending to ignore me.

  “Huh.” Will frowns. “You’re not hooking up with Pene again, are you?”

  “Don’t be such a fucking fuckwit.”

  He shrugs, unconcerned by my insults. “She’s your ex, not mine.”

  I don’t even know what he’s insinuating so ignore his comment. “I haven’t seen her for six months before last night. And then she acted like…” I don’t know how she acted, but it was weird. And in front of Violet, too.

  “Like she wasn’t over you,” Yolanda says. “That’s because she isn’t, Lucas.”

  Yolanda’s not usually this clueless. “It was just a casual fling with Pene. You know how it is.” She should do. She’s seen me date enough girls over the last four years to know it never means anything much on either side.

  Not until Violet.

  Why the hell hasn’t she called me yet?

  Yolanda takes a deep breath and places her cup on the workbench. “Honestly, Lucas. I don’t know why you’ve got this crazy notion girls only date you because of your fame. I mean, sure, some do. Hell, I know how that goes, believe me.”

  It’s true she’s dated some jerks who only wanted to be with her because she’s a supermodel and it got their faces in the media, but the difference is, all the girls who date me only want the associated brief brush with fame.

  Except for…

  Yeah, all right. Not going there again.

  “Not seeing your point. Sorry.” I chug down some coffee and scald my bloody mouth.

  She gives a long-suffering sigh. “Look. I know Violet’s special. But you need to know she’s not the first girl who went out with you because you’re you and not Lucas Carter, the footballer.”

  I give that suggestion all the attention it deserves. About three seconds.

  Even if Yolanda can’t see it, I know the truth.

  From nowhere, a distorted memory echoes through my brain.

  Not every girl gets to date her teenage crush.

  Ice skates along my spine. It was a bitchy comment made by Violet’s ex-friend. I know that. It doesn’t mean shit. The reason Violet wouldn’t go out with me that first day was because of my career, so what the fuck am I even thinking here?

  I don’t know, but I can’t get it out of my head. “I’m gonna have a shower.”

  Neither of them says anything as I leave the room, but as I stand under the double jets, our final conversation scrapes through my mind.

  Don’t be so stupid. You don’t get to tell me what to do.

  She sounded like she was really mad. It was just a row, Carter.

  It doesn’t stop her words from ringing in my ears.

  Don’t be so stupid.

  When I eventually return to the kitchen, Yolanda’s gone. Shame I can’t say the same about Will, who’s just finishing a toasted cheese sandwich.

  Moodily, I fix myself one, and it’s not until I bite into my late lunch that Will speaks.

  “She’s right, mate.”

  I know exactly what he’s referring to but don’t feel the need to make this easy on him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “You remember at school, before you signed your first contract. You could always date any girl you wanted.”

  I sling him a black glare. “Yeah, and I was sixteen years old.”

  “That’s right. And nothing’s changed.”

  I finish my sandwich, even though the cheese is still too hot. “Everything changed when I signed with United.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  That’s the problem. I don’t. “We’re talking about my dating history here.”

  “So am I.”

  He’s lost me, but I’m not about to let him know it. “It happened all right? Girls who’d never looked twice at me before suddenly would do anything just to hang off my arm.”

  “Jesus, Lucas. This isn’t still about Clare, is it? That girl was a prime bitch, and we all know it.”

  She was a piece of work, no mistake, but it still happened.

  I’ve always liked you, Lucas. You’re so cute. But you can’t let anyone take advantage of you. With me by your side, you’ll have the winning combination of beauty and brains…

  Even now, I can’t figure out whether she was referring to me as the beauty in her fantasy relationship, or herself. No prizes for guessing who had the brains.

  Fuck, she was up herself.

  That realization hits me, unexpected. I’ve despised her for years, but I’ve never gone so far as to deride her whispered comment as she’d rubbed up against me.

  How did she ever seriously think I’d want to go out with her after the way she treated Harry?

  Not all girls are like Clare. Not even close.

  “Fuck me.” Will grabs the coffee jug and waves it in my direction. “I know she did a real number on Harry, but I didn’t think she’d screwed you up as well. Let me tell you something. Even the most self-centered, ambitious chicks you’ve dated over the years weren’t half as mercenary as she was.”

  “Is that meant to make me feel better?”

  “Yeah.” He pours us both a coffee. “And I’ll remind you of something else while I’m philosophizing. Violet wasn’t after you just so she could grab her five minutes of fame, was she?”

  I exhale a long breath. “She didn’t want to go out with me at all. I don’t know how I managed to change her mind.”

  I saw a different side to him. That’s why I agreed to date him.

  A weird prickle inches along my spine. I didn’t act any differently after she turned me down. Sure, I wrangled things so she’d come around here and we could talk, and the work she did is great.

  I told her I wasn’t my rep, and although it’s true, I was joking when I said that to her. But she saw through my public face.

  She saw me.

  I’ve always known that, but for some reason it hits me with the force of a sledgehammer to the brain, like an epiphany for the soul and all that crazy shit.

  But if all that’s true, then why doesn’t she want to come to Madrid with me?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Violet

  It’s late Saturday afternoon by the time I arrive home after my double shift at Sycamore Lodge. Even though I was rushed off my feet, it didn’t stop me thinking about Lucas.

  Obsessing about him, if I’m honest.

  Katie’s accusation has gnawed at me all day. He’s not an entitled prat. He never has been. Unlike me, when he decides to do something he does it straight away, without giving it a second thought. It probably never crossed his mind that most people—well, okay me—need more than five days’ notice before they turn their lives upside down.

  Look at how I’ve procrastinated about legally changing my name. And what was the first thing he said to me when I told him about that?

  If you want something, you’ve gotta go for it.

  I sit in the car and pull some documents out of my bag. During my lunchbreak I printed out a deed poll, filled in the details, and got Katie and Tristan at work to witness it. I’ve also filled out the forms for a change of name on my driver’s license.

  If I want something, there’s going to be no more fucking about.

  I let out a shaky breath. I haven’t phoned Lucas yet, even though I’m desperate to hear his voice again. But the way he said call me, like it was a command—no, like it was a foregone conclusion that I’d phone him, when by rights he’s the one who should be calling me.

  He’s leaving England in three days, Vi. Am I really going to let him go without even trying to fix things between us?

  Dad strolls down the driveway toward me, and before I can get out of the car, he opens the
door.

  “Everything all right?”

  I haven’t told him or Mum about what happened on Thursday night, so I just nod.

  “Look.” I show him the documents, and he frowns at them as though he’s bemused. “I’m finally legally changing my name, so I’ll be a legit Henderson.”

  He gives a strange smile, as though I’ve just hurt him, and brushes a curl off my cheek, the way he used to when I was a little girl.

  “You’ve always been a legit Henderson to me.” There’s a catch in his voice that makes my heart ache. “You probably don’t remember, but I tried to adopt you when I married your mum.”

  Of course I remember…

  “But I didn’t need that bit of paper, Vi. You’re my daughter in every way that counts. You know that, don’t you?”

  I sniff back the stupid tears that are clogging my throat. “Yes, I know.” I get out of the car and wrap my arms around him, and he holds me close. It’s been way too long since we hugged like this.

  My dad.

  We’re watching TV in the sitting room after dinner. Not that Mum managed to eat anything, although she pretended to.

  Three more days…

  I swallow and focus on the TV.

  “Not going out tonight?” Mum’s subtext is clear. Not seeing Lucas tonight?

  Or is that me being oversensitive?

  “No.” I still haven’t decided whether to call him or not. Every time I waver, I remember the way he said it.

  Like he expected an apology from me.

  “I see Lucas is doing a press conference at the King’s Crest Hotel tomorrow,” Dad says, as he scrolls down his tablet.

  “Violet, I hope you’re not staying in tonight because of me.” Mum has a pinched expression on her face, and before I can stop myself, the words are out there.

  “No, of course not. I’m meeting him after the press conference tomorrow.”

  I sound so convincing, even I almost believe my lie.

  “Oh, that’s nice.” She relaxes and sighs. “You want to spend as much time together as possible before he leaves.”

  “You’re still together?” Dad gives me a quick glance.