by Sarah Thorn
She giggled. “If it’s a boy, I don’t think he will like that.”
He shook his head. “I hope that he or she is healthy. I hope that you are okay through it all and that everything works out good in the end.”
“Ellie is going to help me. She will know what’s going on before I do.”
They both laughed at that.
“I’m glad she is wanting to help you.” Mark’s demeanor had lightened significantly from only moments before. She could see that he felt relief and renewed strength. She wondered if he would really be able to kick the habit. He was so good with money otherwise.
“Do you want me to start helping manage the finances of the track and stables, Mark?” She asked a little nervously. It had always been his job. She didn’t want him to feel that she was stepping on his toes.
He paused and looked at her thoughtfully. “I think it would be wise, yes.” He agreed. He put one of his hands on her tummy and the other on the small of her back. “You won’t be up for all that physical work taking care of yourself for the next year anyway.”
“Silly man, it doesn’t take that long to have a baby!”
“I know.” He laughed. “But you won’t be going back to grooming and cleaning out stables for a long time, honey. You’re going to have my baby to take care of!”
The thought of a happy family in her future lifted Margaret’s spirits back up into the clouds. She threw her arms around her husband and hugged him close. “I love you, Mark!”
“And I love you, my sweet little Margaret!” He replied, kissing her soft lips with a passion she would never be able to resist.
*****
THE END
SPORTS Romance – Rough Play
''Yes thanks, Jeff. You're right; that was a great game. We're just waiting for Danny Constance to come and talk to us after scoring three goals,'' the football reporter said as the anchorman handed back to him after the news bulletin.
''Danny has also been called up this week to play his first game for England. He's certainly the hottest footballer in England at the moment. There are also rumors that Barcelona has made a bid of eighty million pounds for him. Hold on, yes, here he is.''
Danny Constance towered over the reporter. At six feet three he had the ideal built to play in attack, and at just twenty-two was at the beginning of a glittering football career. He'd just come out of the shower after Rushmore United had won in front of fifty thousand home fans. It was a cold day in December and steam came from Danny's wet hair.
''Danny, thanks for talking to us. How do you feel the game went today?''
''Great, I scored three and United have moved back to the top of the league. It's been a good day.''
Another reporter came and put his microphone close to Danny's mouth. Danny flashed the reporter an aggressive look, and he withdrew slightly.
''What's your reaction to your England call up?''
''I'm honored. It's great to represent my country. Hopefully, we can win,'' Danny said as he reeled off another stock answer. Rushmore used a London PR company to train its players in the art of evading press questions.
''Can you give any insight into the rumor Barcelona want to buy you?''
''None, it's just that. A rumor.''
''And lastly Danny, I have to ask you this, do you have any comment on the alleged incident at the West End nightclub last week?''
Danny scowled into the camera. ''No comment. Please keep your questions on football, not my private life.''
''But.....the young woman alleges you were very drunk, and you danced with her and touched her.......''
Before the reporter could finish Danny has disappeared back into the sanctuary of the dressing room.
He sat down and put his boots into a holdall. The place was almost empty, only the goalkeeper, Rod Stevens, Danny's best friend was still getting dressed.
''What a fuckhead,'' Danny said.
''Who?
''Jones, that reporter. He asked me about last Saturday evening.''
Rod, who was even taller than Danny, turned around and looked at him. ''I hope she drops the charges, because if she doesn't you'll have to go to court.''
''But I didn't do what she's saying.'' Danny took a deep breath.
''I know that, but the cops are always after nailing a famous person. Come on, let's go and have a beer,'' Rod said.
When they walked out of the players entrance, a large crowd cheered, and a few small boys thrust autograph books at Danny hopefully. That's what Danny liked about being a footballer, the kids. He knew he was a role model, and he loved being one. ''You go on ahead, I'll catch you up, I'm gonna sign for these kids,'' Danny said. Rod nodded and headed for the underground car park where his Porsche was waiting.
''Okay lads, I'll stay here until the last one of you has got my signature so no need to push.'' After thirty minutes, the crowd had dwindled, and Danny saw a young boy in a wheelchair. ''Alright mate. What happened to you then?'' he asked the stricken child.
''I was in a car crash. I can't walk anymore.''
Danny looked at the boy's father, who smiled. ''That's no good is it. Tell you what; you can have these, and when you walk again, you can play football in them.'' The boy's eyes almost popped out of his head as Danny reached into his bag and pulled out the boots he'd just scored three goals in. ''Here, I'll sign them for you as well.''
''Are you sure Danny?'' the child's father said. ''Those are your lucky boots.''
''Well, he needs them more than I do,'' Danny said. The boy took the boots and cuddled them. His father shook Danny's hand. ''You're a good guy Danny thanks.''
When Danny drove his Ferrari up the parking lot ramp, the kid in the wheelchair gave him the thumbs up. Danny put his foot down and left some rubber on the road as he sped to the Wild Board pub.
''Danny, let me buy you a drink. Great game, you're a star,' Dave the barman said. The Wild Board was the only pub Danny and his teammates were allowed to drink in. It belonged to Rushmore's manager Miguel Sanchez. He let his players have a few beers there after home games because he knew Dave kept them from drinking too much. Miguel knew Danny and Rod always went on to a nightclub after, but they were young, and he realized they needed to let some steam off now and again.
The only thing that concerned Miguel was the possible charge which hung over Danny's head. Miguel had also played at the top level, and he knew the traps young women laid for highly paid young footballers. If they couldn't marry them, they'd create some trumped up charge and try to get financial compensation. The police had told Miguel that it could be a case of sexual assault, but Miguel knew that Danny wasn't that type of guy, and nobody in the nightclub was going to testify against him. The young woman was adamant that he'd touched her, but Miguel had already asked the club private detective to look into her. What he'd found hadn't surprised Miguel. She was from a broken family; her father was in prison, and her mother had a criminal record as long as her arm.
''So where are we going this evening?'' Danny asked Rod.
Rod finished his lager and gave the matter some thought. ''How about Arabella's.''
''Alright. There's always loads of sexy women there on Saturdays,'' Danny said.
*****
Amber got out of the chauffeur-driven limousine and glanced up at her parental home. She hadn't been home for quite a while, but now, she was very pleased to be home for the Christmas break.
''Honey,'' June shouted, ''Oh my daughter. At last, it's so nice to have you home,'' she said as she thrust her arms around Amber.
''Hi mom. It's great to be home. I really missed you and dad.'' There was a hint of emotion in Amber's voice.
''Come in and sit down. Your father won't be home for a while. We can have a girly talk.''
Amber followed June into a huge lounge. The whole house was huge. It was built in nineteen hundred by Amber's great grandfather after he'd made a fortune on the stock market. Set in seven acres of wonderful gardens it was a colonial style house just outside Ne
w York City.
June rang a bell, and a small, stocky woman appeared. ''Glenda, bring us some tea would you?'' June asked.
''Who's she?'' Amber asked when Glenda had gone to the kitchen.
''Polly died, she's her replacement.''
''What? Why didn't you tell me?'' Amber asked.
''We didn't want to cause you any more upset than you already had.''
Amber was suddenly full of grief for the woman that had been her nanny and later June's maid. ''That's awful. Poor Polly. But she was only....''
''Sixty-three, yes. Far too young,'' June said. ''So how are you feeling now after your horrible split?''
Amber sighed. ''No more men, ever.''
June laughed and played with her pearls. She was forty-nine and still a very attractive woman. A fact that had not gone unnoticed by the wealthy male neighbor who she visited when her husband was away on business. ''You'll change your mind. Give it time.''
''No mom. He was horrible. I thought we were going to get married, at least, he led me to believe we were. Then I found him.......well, you know what happened.''
''Yes. Men do that kind of thing. None of them are ever faithful.''
''Do you mean dad's been unfaithful to you?'' Amber asked not really wanting to know the answer.
''Oh yes. Countless times.''
''Oh,'' Amber said. This was the first time she'd learned her parents’ marriage wasn't all she'd thought it to be. ''That's horrible for you.''
June laughed. ''Not at all. If he can do it, so can I.''
Glenda arrived with the tea and put it down on the antique coffee table in front of the sofa they were sitting on.
''Do you mean you have had affairs as well?''
''As many as your father, if not more.''
Amber had had the worst year of her life. A student at Yale, she'd met what she thought was Mr. Perfect. He was so handsome when he'd asked her out she'd said yes straight away. He was from an aristocratic family of lawyers, and at first, he'd seemed the perfect gentleman. After a few months, he started to become possessive and jealous. She'd thought it was just a phase, but it got worse. So bad in fact, he'd tied her to the bed one day and not let her go out at all. A week later she'd found him lying naked between the open legs of Penelope, his sisters best friend.
''You shouldn't worry when a man cheats on you. It's perfectly normal. They are all wired to their cocks, and there's not a darn thing any of them can do about it,'' June said.
Amber was about to protest when the front door opened. ''Daddy, hi,'' she said standing up and hugging him. ''You look tired, is everything alright?''
''All the better for seeing you. You haven't been home for months.''
''Well, I'm here now.''
''And I'm very glad you are. June ring for Glenda, I need a drink, it's been a hell of a day,'' he said loosening his tie and slumping into his armchair. ''Why the hell I chose to get into the stress of Wall Street, I'll never know. I should have been an artist, sitting by a lake painting birds.''
''You're a good painter daddy. Why don't you pack it all in and do that?''
Roger looked at his daughter. She was his precious Amber. He would do anything for her, and he'd hated finding out she'd been so upset about her last boyfriend. She was too beautiful to be treated so badly. He loved the fact she was as tall as him and was so proud to have such a beautiful daughter.
''Your hair is so shiny, how do you get it like that?'' he asked.
''Healthy living I suppose. After I split with Marco, I almost died it pink.''
''Don't you ever change it. You're a beautiful brunette, and it matches your hazel eyes,'' her mother interjected.
Glenda arrived with a bottle of Scottish whiskey. Roger took it from her and poured himself a drink.
''Do you want one?'' he asked Amber. She shook her head.
''Well don't ask me whether I want one will you?'' June complained.
He poured his wife a drink and gave it to her. ''Amber you're okay for London mid-January, Joe confirmed it this afternoon. He apologized for leaving it so late, but he'd love to have you on board.''
June looked quizzically at them. ''What are you two cooking up?''
''My work placement, part of my degree. Dad asked Joe if he had a place for me in his PR firm in London for six months.''
''I might as well live on the moon. Nobody tells me anything.'' June said taking a larger than advised mouthful of whiskey. Amber patted her on the back as she coughed it back up.
''It's a great opportunity for you,'' Roger said. ''Joe's a really sharp businessman and if you pay attention, you will learn a lot. And it'll be a great opportunity for you to see London.''
''Thanks for arranging it daddy. It'll be great.
*****
Amber's hair blew horizontally in the storm as she got into the car. ''Wow Uncle Joe. A stormy welcome to England,'' she said pulling her seat-belt across her chest.
''You have to pity the English, it's either as windy as hell, or raining. Call me Joe; I think you're a bit big to be calling me Uncle Joe, don't you?'' Joe put Amber's case in the trunk and squeezed his long legs under the steering wheel of his beloved Bugatti.
''I guess so. Where are we going now?''
''I'm taking you to your apartment and then for dinner with Alison and me, and tomorrow I'll come and take you to work. There's a lot to do in the next few weeks. We've got some exciting stuff coming up.''
''Great,'' Amber said as she ducked down behind the dash.
''What's the matter?''
''Sorry. It's the traffic; it's on the wrong side, and I thought we were going to hit that car.''
Joe laughed. Welcome to England, they like to do things differently here.''
Amber hadn't seen Joe for a long time, not since she was about thirteen. She remembered him as a dashing young man, tall and dark skinned with whiter than white teeth and a love of cigars and fast cars. He'd gone to university with her father and moved to England to open up a Trans-Atlantic PR agency. Since then, the agency had expanded and now had clients from all over the world.
They drove to an apartment block in Knightsbridge, one of London's most affluent areas. Amber couldn't believe how luxurious her apartment was.
''Are you sure Joe? This place must be worth a fortune, I'm sure you could get loads of cash by renting it out,'' Amber said. She was standing in the middle of a huge lounge that overlooked Kensington Park. She loved the highly polished antique parquet and the sash windows.
''I'll rent it out after you've gone back to the States. For now, I hope you enjoy it. I promised your father I'd look after you.''
''Well thanks, it's beautiful.'' Amber wandered into the bedroom and noticed that the bed was already made. She looked in the en-suite bathroom and imagined herself soaking in the huge bath after a hard day's work.''
Amber was more than pleased Joe had thought about her welfare. She'd been expecting to stay in some grotty student apartment, the sort of place she'd become accustomed to over the last four years while at Yale.
On the way to Joe's apartment in Belgravia, Amber closed her eyes, at least, three times and waited for the worst to happen. As her heart pounded, she told herself to darn well get used to the traffic because she was making a fool of herself.
Amber remembered Alison as being tall and slender, and the most elegant of her parents’ female friends. When Alison opened the door, Amber thought she was even more glamorous than she remembered.
''Amber, hi. It's so nice to see you. Wow, you've grown into a really pretty young lady.''
''Thanks. Great to see you, Alison.''
''Drink?'' Joe asked when they reached the lounge. Alison sat down next to Amber and crossed her shapely legs.
''Yes please darling. Amber?''
''I think I will, it's been a long journey.''
''We're very pleased your here,'' Joe said. Alison patted Amber's hand and clutched it to her.
Alison and Joe made Amber feel at home, and she began to really
look forward to her stay in England. She'd learned so much about the tiny islands and was eager to find out more.
Amber had to scramble the next morning to be ready on time. She'd slept incredibly well and pressed snooze more times than she cared to remember. Eventually, though, there were only thirty minutes left before Joe was to pick her up.
Joe's eyes opened wider than usual when he saw Amber in her business suit. She wore a skirt just above the knee, and a matching jacket with an elegant white blouse. He looked at her never ending legs and began to think vulgar thoughts.
The office was a collection of rooms in a very smart building in Piccadilly. Joe handed Amber over to a young woman called Josephine, a leggy blonde with a thick northern accent.
''Josephine graduated from Cambridge last year. She works with one of our most important clients, Rushmore United, England's premier soccer team,'' Joe said. Amber was pleased to see Josephine give her a welcoming smile. From that moment, she knew they would get on well. ''By the way, they call soccer, football here. So please refer to it as football or they'll think you're a stupid yank,'' Joe said. He strode to the door and left the two ladies to get on with it.
''Hi Amber, it's nice to meet you. You've started on just the right day. This evening we're going to a party.''
''Oh, perhaps I should have worn a dress,'' Amber said.
''Don't worry, we'll get you kitted out this afternoon. I thought we could spend the morning chatting about what we do here, and perhaps nip out for a coffee and get to know each other.''
''Sound's great. You know, I think I'm really going to enjoy myself here. Everyone has made me feel so welcome.''
Amber learned that Joe's company had a contract to do all the PR work for Rushmore United. Josephine was the key account manager, and Amber was to be her assistant. Over coffee in a small cafe, in a side street just off Piccadilly Circus, Josephine explained about the function they were going to attend that evening.
''It's the fiftieth anniversary of Rushmore winning their first European Cup, and tonight there will be a reception and a dinner for ex-players, current players, management, and some carefully selected members of the press.''
