A Different Game: A Wrong Game Novel

by Matthews, Charlie M.

  I was finishing the last section of cutting in when Riley pushed through the door. He looked like he was auditioning for a remake of Top Gun with his leather jacket, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, and that lazy swagger he generally saved for a night out.

  “Ya know, I thought you were having me on when you told me what you’d done. Shit, man, you weren’t kidding.”

  “If you’re here to help, fine, grab a brush. If not, fuck off. I haven’t got time for your shit today.”

  “Whoa!” he said, tossing his hands in the air. “Why you pissed at me for?”

  Swiping the back of my hand across my forehead, I sighed. “I’m not. I just really want to get this finished for her.”

  “Don’t you think this is a little extreme? I mean, date the girl, bang her, whatever, but this… buying her a damn warehouse?”

  Pushing the end of the brush between my teeth, I picked away at a stray bristle that lodged its way between a small groove in the coving. “What you getting at, Rye?”

  “Aren’t you worried she’ll be creeped out by it?” I turned my head and saw the frown on his face. I hated that I had to justify everything I did. I’m sure if it was for Brie he would’ve done the same.

  “It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me or anything.”

  “No, but the rate you’re going it won’t be long before you get down on your knee and ask her. All I’m saying is be careful. You’ve been together, how long?”

  I shrugged. “A few weeks.”

  “Six? Seven?” he asked, raising both palms up.

  “Eight. Not that it matters.” I wanted to tell him it had been the best eight damn weeks of my entire life, but I didn’t. He’d only say what the rest of them were thinking. I was rushing into it. Diving head first into something without knowing what it was I was diving into. I’d already had a lecture from my mum about taking it slow, making sure Melanie was really the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I kept telling her that she was worrying over nothing, but I could see the concern on her face. It didn’t matter what I said, she’d worry anyway.

  “Eight weeks. Right…” Rye said, reminding me he was still there.

  I quirked a brow and lowered myself down from the ladder. “You got something to add to that?”

  “I don’t know, mate. I just think it’s too soon for heavy shit like this.”

  “Well then, stop thinking and start working. I told you, I’m doing this for her with or without your help.”

  Riley sighed, shook his head, and grabbed a tray and roller. “Fine, I’ll help, but I’m going right over there,” he said, gesturing to the far wall that was half grey and half white. “Your grumpy arse is putting me in a bad mood. Hopefully you’ll use some of that aggression out on the field tomorrow.” Then he fucked off to the other side of the room, leaving me in peace.

  That feeling. That indescribable feeling you get around the locker room when you’re winding down before a game, is a feeling so strong that you find yourself swept up in the emotion of every single team member around you. The quiet breaths, the silent prayers you send to the big man upstairs as you wish for the game of your lives. Then the energetic buzz from every angle as the coach blows his whistle, signalling the beginning of what you know will be a game you’ll always remember. All I needed was my girl in the stands watching me win this game, and my life would be complete.

  She’d called to say she was running late, working on the design for the competition. I told her not to rush. That it was fine if she couldn’t make it. I could hear the emotion in her voice at the thought that she might miss it, but I’d reassured her that there would be other games and to concentrate on finishing the design. I’d see her after the game. She’d reluctantly agreed, wished me good luck and hung up the phone. But fuck if I didn’t want her here now. I wanted her with me all the damn time.

  Riley flung his arm around my shoulder as we made our way through the tunnel and out onto the pitch.

  “Let’s tear these arseholes a new one.” He grinned before squeezing my shoulder and jogging up ahead.

  I nodded, even though he could no longer see me, and pressed my mouth to the tips of my fingers before I dragged them across the touchline. I was showing my respect for the game, asking God to bless the ground beneath my feet. Some kissed their badges for good luck, showing their respect for their team, others knelt on the ground as they came out of the tunnel, but me? That was my thing. It always had been. Even after my injury, I made sure that that one small gesture never changed.

  I angled my head towards the sky and breathed in. When I lowered them again, a firm hand clasped my shoulder, roughly. “Hey, Knight?” I jerked my head to the side and raised my brows before eyeing the hand that was on my shoulder. I’d never seen the kid before, but he obviously knew who I was. And I’d say that whatever he thought about me couldn’t have been good.

  When I shrugged out of his grip, he raised a brow, a cock-sure grin spreading across his face. “Fancy a little wager on today’s match?”

  I shook my head and grinned. “No, ta. If it’s money you’re after, I’m pretty sure that geezer with the red hat over there… see him?” I pointed. “I heard he’s taking bets on today’s game. Mind you, odds aren’t in your favour but if you wanna give it a shot…”

  “Who said anything about money?” He snarled.

  “I’d give you the shirt off my back, but it’s a bit chilly out,” I goaded.

  “How about, if you win, I’ll let you walk out of here in one piece.”

  I chucked my head back and laughed. “And if you win?”

  “I get your girl for the night. Heard she likes it rough. Right little slapper, apparently. Wouldn’t mind tapping it myself. I hear she’s good.”

  I drew in a breath and shook my head. The kid was asking for trouble. Any other time, I would’ve shut him the fuck up, but I had too much riding on this game. There were scouts in the stands watching every single one of us. I couldn’t let some jacked up dickhead ruin my chances of getting back in the game.

  “Sorry, mate. I’d rather give up my balls for life than ever risk sharing that trophy with anyone, never mind a low league loser like yourself. But feel free to imagine me making her moan all night when you’re at home with your right hand and some Vaseline later, yeah.” His eyes fixed on mine, unmoving, and I leaned in. “Especially when she’s calling me God. That’s a real dick twitching moment right there.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply. I wasn’t even sure the bellend had one.

  We were drawing at halftime, struggling to find a gap to create chances. We were holding our own, but they were all over us during the last ten minutes of the first half. Coach insisted we continue playing as we were, even though Riley pointed out that the weak link in our team—some new lad called Banks—needed to be subbed if we stood any chance at winning the game. Knowing we needed to make the most of what we had, we went back onto the field already feeling defeated.

  Usually, I could tell who was going to win by the time first half was over. For once, though, I couldn’t call it. I hated knowing that we could so easily lose the game.

  I blew out a breath as I took my midfield position. Mel still hadn’t arrived. She was the first person I looked for when we came out of the tunnel. The dickhead that instigated a wager was pressed heavily to my side, blocking me from making any moves that might lose his team the win. I was thankful Mel wasn’t around to watch it. I knew it would make her nervous if she suspected there was something going on.

  I had no idea what the kid’s problem was. I’d never even seen him before. But it was obvious during the first half that he was looking for trouble, and I had done my best to avoid confrontation up until then.

  Riley right-footed the ball across me, and I slid to the side, threw my arm out to shrug the dickhead off my back and attempted to find a clear path to pass the ball.

  “You’re meant to run with it,” he breathed down my neck, his menacing laugh only fuelling my anger.r />
  When he clipped my back heel, causing me to buckle, I quickly righted myself. “What the fuck’s your problem?” I forced out, pushing my hands to his chest.

  “Whoa!” He smirked, tossing his hands in the air. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  Riley wedged himself between us, gripping my shoulders as his eyes bored into mine. “Back away, J. He’s not worth it.”

  “The fuck he’s not,” I gritted out.

  Riley raised his brows and said, “You wanna get back at him?”

  I nodded once. What kind of question was that? Of course I fucking did. The dick was asking for a beating from the moment we stepped out onto the field.

  “Then let’s win this fucking game.” Then he tore off down the field, claimed his position, and waited for the free kick to come in.

  I reached for the dirty ball, twirled it between my fingers and lowered it to the ground as I waited for the whistle. When it came, I blew out a breath and shot the ball straight to Riley. It curled past a couple of defenders and aimed straight for his chest. Riley arched his back, letting it fall to his feet, then he fired in the shot.

  Then everything happened at once.

  The ball shot through the back of the net, the crowd erupted around us and I crumbled to the ground, crying out in pain as white lights flashed in front of my eyes. I jerked my head back and clutched the back of my knee. I didn’t have to look down to know it was bad. The immense pain was something I’d never experienced before. Each bout of pain sent a wave of nausea through me and I was certain that at any moment I would vomit.

  It was at least forty seconds before anyone realised I was down. One look at Riley’s pale face and I knew it was worse than I thought. I laid back, my hand still clutching the back of my knee as people rushed back and forth, wondering what the hell had just happened. I could only close my eyes and breathe through the pain, hoping to God I would pass out before the pressure got any worse.

  51

  I was late.

  I was so late that the chances of me making it before the game ended were slim.

  Jake had told me to stay home and finish the design I was sketching up for Daniella Marston. I hadn’t realised the time until I threw the pen down, satisfied I’d done my best.

  Once I’d pulled the car into a parking spot just around the corner of the stadium, I rushed towards the mass of people that hurried out of the gate. I’d missed the game. That much was obvious. But it wasn’t until I rounded the corner that I noticed why people were rushing around frantically, phones glued to their ears. Riley was the first person I recognised as I rushed forward. It was the horror in his eyes that forced me to stop. His eyes moved and I followed them, swallowing the lump that had lodged its way in my throat.

  An ambulance with blue flashing lights stared back at me, and I blinked back, hoping it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. Only, when I mustered up enough strength to open them again, I knew it wasn’t my imagination at all.

  My feet carried me across the car park towards Riley and the loud sirens that flashed before me. He looked up at me, frowned, and then his eyes shifted towards the three paramedics who were pushing a stretcher.

  “Riley?” I said, my voice quivering. My heart felt like it was no longer functioning as I looked to him for answers.

  “It’s not good,” was all he offered by way of an explanation and I rushed towards the ambulance. Towards Jake.

  “Jake!” I cried out when I noticed him lying down on the stretcher while one paramedic held up his leg. “What happened? What’s going on?” Questions, questions, so many questions. And yet, no one answered a single one of them.

  My eyes drifted to his knee and I instantly felt sick. What had happened to him? Why now? I wanted to crawl inside the ambulance and lay beside him. Play with his thick, dark hair and tell him how sorry I was for not being there. And I almost did just that. That is, until Jake held a hand out to stop me.

  “Jake? Let me come with you. You need someone with you.” Tears streamed down my face and I didn’t even try to hide them.

  “I’m sorry, Miss. He doesn’t want you to come with him.”

  “Of course he does.” I laughed mechanically.

  The younger one of the three—the woman—gazed down at me sympathetically, shook her head and said, “I’m sorry. We can only do as he asks and right now, we need to get him to the hospital.”

  “B-but?” I stuttered.

  Jake pulled the oxygen mask away from his face and tried to lean forward, only one of the paramedics stopped him. “Rye?” Jake strained out and I looked to the side, noticing Riley standing beside to me.

  “It’s alright, bud. I’ll come with ya.” Then he patted my arm and climbed in, taking a seat beside Jake. I could only watch helplessly as they closed the doors to the ambulance and pulled away. I stood there, watching in the distance, the faint echo of the sirens leaving me dazed and confused.

  He hadn’t wanted me to go with him. Why? It didn’t make sense.

  Three Weeks Later…

  Three weeks felt like an eternity. A slow, painful eternity without having Jake in my life. I had done everything to try to take my mind off not having him around anymore. I even put in extra hours at the store because, surprisingly, Leanne’s high demands gave me less time to dwell over things, and for once, I was thankful.

  It was a Saturday evening and I had just walked through the front door when Mum called out from the kitchen.

  “Mel, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Mum,” I called back, tossing my bag onto the table and making my way to the kitchen.

  “Good day at work?” she asked, her eyes flicking to mine briefly before she went about stirring the pot of food she had cooking on the stove.

  I shrugged and slid onto a stool, resting my elbows on the breakfast bar. “It was okay, I guess.”

  “I meant what I said. I could really use your help in the studio. I know working with your mother isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s got to be better than working at Lillie’s.”

  I reached for an apple from the bowl and twirled the stork around my fingers, letting it pop off.

  She’d mentioned a few times over the past weeks that it would be great if I started working with her. Three years ago I would’ve jumped at the chance to be around my mum all the time, but I enjoyed my own freedom now, and I knew I wouldn’t have that freedom if I worked for her. I was just getting her back. I didn’t want anything to jeopardise the relationship we had been working so hard to build up. I shrugged again. “I know, and I love you for asking me, but I’m fine. Really.”

  Mum pulled the pot off the stove and placed it on the granite chopping board. Then she came up behind me, pulled the untouched apple from out of my hands and wrapped her arms around me. She did that a lot lately. I found it awkward at first, but I soon learned to embrace the warmth she was offering me.

  “This letter came for you today.” She sighed against the top of my head. She reached into her back pocket, pulled the white envelope out, and she slipped it in front of me. “It looks important.”

  I twisted my lips and idly ripped it open. “It’s probably just a bill or something.” My shoulders slumped as I pulled the A4 sheet of paper out and unfolded it.

  For a long while I stared in silence, mulling over the words written before me. It was from Daniella Marston’s PA. Why would she be writing to me? I never…

  “Mel? What is it?” Mum’s concerned voice carried through the silence.

  “I… I don’t know.” I stuttered, holding it out to her.

  Her eyes danced as she read the words printed out on the paper, and then her eyes flashed up to me. “Mel? You know what this is, right? That design you were working on. Did you forget?” she asked in amusement.

  “No. I didn’t forget. I just never sent my designs away.”

  “What are you saying, honey?”

  “I’m saying that someone else must have sent them in because I sure as hell didn’t.”
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  “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been all out of sorts these last few weeks. Maybe you just forgot you sent them. I forget stuff all the time.”

  “No, Mum.” I shook my head. “I didn’t send them. I know I didn’t send them.”

  “Then who…”

  “Bessy...” we both said.

  “It still doesn’t make sense, though.” I frowned. “How would Bessy even know where to find them? They’re still in my drawer upstairs. I know this because I had them out just this morning.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Mel. Maybe she snuck in while you were out and made a copy. I don’t know.”

  I thought it over for a moment and figured that she must’ve been right.

  “You won, Mel. You should be happy.”

  “I am, it’s just… I can’t go.”

  “Why not? If this is about work, then quit. I told you, there will always be a job for you with me whenever you need it.”

  “You read it! It’s in New York!”

  “All the more reason for you to hop on that plane and go. Those opportunities don’t come around too often. Take them. Take them while you have the chance.”

  I sighed. “Three months is a long time.”

  “And you’ll love every second of it.” She smiled knowingly.

  Bessy had sent my designs in for a reason, which meant she believed in me. Like Jake had believed in me. There was no reason why I shouldn’t get on that plane and go. It wasn’t like I had Jake anymore. He’d made it perfectly clear that afternoon at the hospital that he never wanted to see me again. And he had made damn sure that Taylor be the one to tell me. He had said it was all my fault. That Jake’s accident was somehow my fault and that I was the last person he wanted to see. I walked out of the hospital that day, broken, and confused. I never understood why he refused to see me–why he blamed me for the accident. I still had no idea what happened that day. Not really.