‘Thursday it is then,’ she whispered, her mouth touching his as she spoke, her heart pounding so fast it was beginning to make her feel breathless. ‘I love you so much, Jim. Jesus, I love you so fucking much.’
‘Hey, come on,’ he smiled, gently brushing away tears that had started to fall from her eyes. Tears of relief, of happiness. Of guilt? Maybe. But the relief and the happiness overtook that last emotion – for now. ‘I know we took one hell of a long route to get here, but we’re there now. Aren’t we?’
She nodded, looking up at the ceiling for a second as she breathed out slowly, getting rid of the tears before she faced the real world back outside. ‘I just can’t get my head around the fact I’m…’ She looked at him, the smile reappearing. ‘It’s a bit overwhelming, that’s all. Everything’s happening so fast.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Twenty-one-years, Amber. That ain’t fast, honey.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she smiled.
He gently rubbed the small of her back, kissing her mouth ever-so-lightly. ‘I love you, too, baby. I’ve only ever loved you…’
Voices outside calling for Jim broke the spell they’d both been under and he let go of her, grabbing his suit jacket and pushing a hand through his hair.
‘I guess I’d better go to work, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ Amber smiled, straightening the collar of his jacket and kissing him quickly one last time before they left the privacy of his office. ‘Me too.’
‘I’ll see you on the other side, then,’ he winked, finally opening that door, the sound of a packed stadium on match day taking over the small and quiet world they’d been locked inside for a few blissful minutes.
She nodded, watching him walk the short distance across the corridor into the dressing room. The man of her dreams. The love of her life. Jim Allen.
*
‘Is he okay?’ Amber asked Debbie as they sat in the Main Stand at Tynebridge, watching the game. Amber hadn’t wanted to sit in the press seats – mainly because she knew she’d just be grilled the whole time by Kevin trying to get snippets of information out of her. She’d wanted to sit with her friend. But even that wasn’t proving to be hassle free, with comments from the crowd being thrown at her every so often, which she ignored. Although, the temptation to shout a smart reply back to the less polite ones was almost too much to resist. Were they really that interested in what it was like to sleep with Red Star’s manager? ‘Ryan, I mean. Only, I saw him before, and he looked terrible. So I can kind of understand why Jim’s put him on the bench this afternoon.’
‘You don’t think it’s out of spite this time, then?’ Debbie asked, turning her attention away from the action on the pitch to look at Amber.
Amber shook her head. ‘Not this time. No.’ Amber looked down at the touchline where Jim was shouting something at Gary, pointing in a slightly agitated manner at a fellow player he should have passed the ball to, a mistake which had cost them a sitter of a goal. ‘I hope all of this isn’t affecting Gary.’
‘Gary’s fine,’ Debbie snorted, pulling her hat down further over her ears to shield out the biting January cold. ‘And Ryan will be, too. He just needs a bit longer than most to get his head around things. For an intelligent guy he can be a real child at times.’
Amber looked at Debbie, a touch surprised by her tone. ‘Is something going on? Debbie, if he’s drifting back into bad habits…’
‘He’s fine,’ Debbie sighed. Amber raised both eyebrows in question. ‘Okay. Okay, he’s gone a bit – off the rails lately…’
‘Off the rails? How? Is he drinking, gambling…?’
‘Being a first-rate prick? Yeah, that just about sums it up. But he’s okay, Amber. Really.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ Debbie smiled, and Amber relaxed. Surely he’d learnt from his mistakes by now. ‘We’re keeping an eye on him, don’t worry. And it’s not like he’s short of company to keep him occupied.’
Amber didn’t really want to know about that side of things. It was that which had sealed the fate of their relationship, after all – his inability to leave the wannabe WAGs alone.
‘Anyway,’ Debbie went on, her tone of voice now signalling her recognition of a need to change the subject. ‘Forget the trashy wannabe’s…’ It was almost as if she’d read Amber’s mind, ‘… you’re Queen WAG now, chick. You’re with the man every woman who loves football – and even those that don’t – wants to fuck senseless. Jesus, even I’ve fantasised about Jim Allen when there’s only been me and my trusty vibrator around.’
Amber looked at Debbie, a smile creeping across her lips.
‘Is he any good?’ Debbie asked, grinning widely as she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her bright pink padded jacket.
‘Yeah,’ Amber laughed, feeling like she was sitting in the school cloakroom having one of those conversations you had when you’d just discovered boys. ‘He’s alright.’
‘Alright?’ Debbie arched an eyebrow. ‘Jesus, Amber, don’t give away too many details, will you?’ Debbie sat forward, on a roll now. ‘Come on. Tell me something, chick. Like… I mean, for a man of his age…’
‘He’s forty-eight, Debbie. That’s all.’
‘Yeah, I know, but… the first time you had sex with him he was, how old?’
‘Twenty-seven.’
‘Two decades ago. And, let’s face it; most men’s bodies would have changed a bit over that period of time. Was he fit back then?’
‘God, yes! You’ve seen photos of him when he was a Red Star player – he was like a walking dream, Debs. 6ft tall, dark hair, green eyes, not to mention that low, soft, sexy American accent of his.’
Debbie raised an eyebrow again. ‘Jeez, you’ve got it bad, girl! Still feel the same way about him now? Or is that probably one of the most stupid and obvious questions I could ask you?’
Amber smiled, looking down at the touchline again as Jim stood in front of the dugout next to Colin, watching the game, his hands in the pockets of his immaculately-cut suit as he exchanged words with his coach. ‘It’s different now,’ she said quietly, part of her wanting to confide in Debbie about the wedding next week, but another part of her knowing it really was for the best to keep it quiet.
‘Different?’ Debbie asked, pulling her scarf up over her chin. ‘How? Is it not all hot and heavy anymore, then?’
‘Jesus, Debbie…’ Amber laughed, craning her neck as Jim disappeared from view for a second, reappearing from the dugout with Ryan. ‘If you must know, it’s hotter and heavier, okay? And can we stop this conversation right now, please? I’m gonna have to talk to him on camera at the end of this game and it’s gonna be bad enough having all eyes watching us without me thinking about him naked and sexy-as-hell…’
‘Now you’re talking, chick,’ Debbie grinned. ‘So, he’s still as sexy now as he was back then?’
‘Sexier,’ Amber smiled, watching as Ryan waited for the substitution to take place, shaking hands with the player whose place he was taking before running out onto the pitch to a barrage of cheers and applause. Amber felt her stomach dip. Why did he suddenly feel like a stranger when only a few weeks ago they’d been closer than any two people could be? It felt odd. Like their entire relationship had never really happened.
‘You okay, babe?’ Debbie asked, gently squeezing Amber’s arm.
‘Yeah,’ Amber sighed, sitting back in the red plastic seat. ‘I’m fine.’ He’d lied to her. He’d made her think he’d gotten so low that the only way out was to harm himself, just so she would come back to him. That wasn’t right. But that was the kind of man Ryan Fisher was – the kind of man who thought he could have anything or anyone he wanted, no matter what it took to get it. He had a lot more growing up to do. It would never have worked. Never.
‘It’s been a bit of a roller-coaster few months, huh?’ Debbie smiled.
‘You could say that,’ Amber said, watching as Ryan threw himself straight into the game, taking the ball from an opposi
ng player with so much ease he made it look as though it was the simplest thing in the world to do as he ran with it towards the Red Star goal. He may have looked like crap but he was playing like the pro he was.
‘He really will be okay, Amber,’ Debbie went on, once again almost reading her mind. ‘You’ve got to concentrate on your own future now. You and Jim. You lucky cow!’
Amber looked at her and smiled. A big, almost smug smile. Her and Jim. How good did that sound?
*
‘Why the fuck are you going into the Players Lounge?’ Gary groaned, pulling Ryan away from the door as they made their way out of Tynebridge, ready for a night on the town to celebrate yet another Red Star victory. They were hurtling towards the top of the league table now, and spirits in the club were high. But the only spirits Ryan was concerned with right now were the ones that came out of a bottle. ‘You know she’s gonna be in there.’
‘And you think that’s why I’m going in there, do you?’
‘I don’t think anything, mate. I know.’
‘You know fuck all. Let go of my frigging arm, will you?’
‘You go in there and all it’s gonna do is kill your mood for tonight. You’ll end up being a miserable sod, moping over your beer all night and shagging the first blonde that gives you the slightest hint of interest.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’
‘The moping into your beer all night bit is, yeah. If I wanted that for company I’d go out with Andy Pearson. His divorce has just come through and I’ve never seen such a miserable bastard in all me life. Present company excepted, of course.’
‘Yeah, you’re a funny bastard, Gary. I’m splitting me sides here. Look, if I could just talk to her… I saw her before the match and I was, well, less than polite, I suppose…’
‘You charmer.’
‘Fuck off. But playing out there this afternoon, even if it was only for twenty minutes, it’s cleared my head, y’know? Made me realise none of this is her fault. It’s me who needs to sort myself out, get a grip…’
‘You can get a grip with anything you want later on, so let’s shift it, okay? The sooner we get home, get changed and grab some cash, the sooner we can get out and start celebrating.’
‘Don’t you see, though, Gary? I don’t want to “get a grip”, as you so eloquently put it, with anything or anyone else. I want Amber.’
‘Well, unless you’ve been dropped on your head and suffered a bout of amnesia, you might have noticed that she is completely loved up with our great leader. Did you not hear him fucking her just before kick-off? Up against the office door I reckoned, it had to be. Must have been slamming into her so hard, the noise they were making…’
‘Jesus Christ, Gary. Shut the fuck up, alright? I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Well maybe it’s the only way you’re going to realise that you can’t have her, mate. And I don’t think you ever could. It was never gonna happen, you and her. Not with him on the scene. And knowing their past history… You’re gonna have to get used to it, Ryan, or let it destroy you. Your choice.’
Ryan looked at Gary for a few seconds, still not fully taking in what he was saying. Jim Allen had hurt her, in the past. Twice. He’d hurt her. And so had he, he knew that. He wasn’t stupid. But Jim – he’d affected the way she’d lived her life for over twenty years. She didn’t need him. ‘Yeah,’ Ryan said, slowly pushing open the door of the Players Lounge. ‘It’s my choice.’
‘Whatever,’ Gary sighed, hoisting his bag up onto his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you later.’
The Players Lounge was busy with the usual post-match buzz, almost full to the rafters of people catching up with each other, players’ wives and girlfriends chatting away, making plans for the next girls’ night out. Everybody seemed oblivious to his entrance, which he was glad of, for once. It wasn’t often that Ryan Fisher managed to stay inconspicuous, mainly because he usually loved to be the centre of attention. But this afternoon he was quite happy to blend into the shadows.
Looking around he finally saw her, at the other end of the room, leaning back against the wall. Jim Allen was standing next to her, one arm resting on the wall beside her so he could lean in close. Too close. Although, they weren’t exactly doing anything they shouldn’t. They were just talking. But the way she was looking at him, the way her eyes never left his; the way his hand would gently touch her arm as he spoke to her – it was enough to make Ryan feel sick. He’d had that, and he’d blown it, because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Yeah, the whole situation was worse than it should have been because the man who’d stepped into his shoes was his boss – or had Ryan really stepped into Jim’s shoes? Maybe everyone was right. Maybe she always was going to go back to Jim at some point, but how did they really know that? How could anyone really know that for sure? They’d been so good together, him and Amber. He’d brought her out of her shell, torn down those icy barriers she’d built around herself, and when they’d made love, Jesus, she could do things to him that he’d never forget. The way she’d made him feel was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to recreate with anyone else, least of all the legions of beautiful but ultimately second-best women that wanted to be with him.
He continued to watch Jim and Amber talk, watched as Jim took a quick look around the room, obviously checking to see if anybody was taking any notice of them. And he must have assumed they weren’t because he then turned back to Amber and kissed her, his lips brushing over hers so quickly it was almost a blink-and-you’d-missed-it kiss, but it was long enough to tear into Ryan’s heart. Shit! Now he knew why he shied away from relationships. If this was what it felt like then you could keep all that crap. Never again was he going to let himself get caught up in feelings that hurt this bad.
Turning his back on an image he knew he’d be playing over and over in his head all night, he walked back out of the room, unnoticed and not caring. Tonight was all about forgetting now. And Ryan knew just how he was going to go about making that happen.
*
‘I just want to go home, strip you naked – very slowly, I might add – and spend the night making love to you,’ Jim whispered, his mouth close to her ear as they stood at the back of the packed Players Lounge, grabbing what minimal privacy there was in a room so full of people. ‘I want to explore all those places I haven’t seen in so long, get to know them all over again…’
‘Jesus, Jim, pack it in will you?’ Amber said, conscious of the fact they were anything but alone. She could feel the tingling between her legs starting to happen already and she had a meeting with Kevin to get through first before anybody touched anyone anywhere.
‘You have no idea how much it turned me on, talking to you in that post-match interview. You were so professional, so cool, and all the time I’m talking to you I’m remembering what we did just minutes before kick-off.’
‘Oh, yeah, that’s real professional, Mr. Allen.’
He threw her that smile, and she couldn’t help laughing. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and do what we managers have to do on days like this,’ he sighed, his fingers brushing quickly over her backside as he brought his arm down from the wall where it had been resting. ‘Are you coming to mine tonight? You know I want you to stay over. We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his; the electricity between them was almost visible, so intense she could actually feel it crackling. ‘I’ll need to go home first. Pick up a change of clothes.’
‘You won’t need clothes for what I’ve got in mind,’ Jim smiled, giving her hand a subtle and quick squeeze, his mouth touching hers in another brief kiss before he left her and headed off into the crowd.
Amber watched him for a few seconds, enjoying the dancing somersaults her stomach was performing
‘Considering I’ve seen less distracted fourteen-year-olds at a One Direction concert you’ve done good today, Ms. Sullivan.’
She turned to look at Kevin, who’d sidled up next to he
r, sipping a pint of lager. ‘I do try to stay as professional as I can,’ she half smiled. ‘No matter what’s going on in my private life.’
‘Well, you’ve had your moments over the past few months, I’ll give you that,’ Kevin said, looking at her out the corner of his eye, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
‘It’s been a bit of a confusing time lately, Kevin. Cut me some slack.’
He took another drink of his lager, looking straight ahead as Jim Allen finally managed to escape the press and reporters in the Players Lounge and make his exit. ‘I need you on board, Amber. You’re the best Sports Editor I’ve ever worked with. I’m just glad you finally seem to have found what you’re looking for.’
She said nothing for a few seconds.
‘I still can’t believe you managed to keep all that a secret for so long. You and Jim Allen…’ Kevin went on, shaking his head.
Amber sighed, leaning back against the wall. She really didn’t want to go through this all over again. She’d done it so many times already; she couldn’t believe there wasn’t anyone out there who still didn’t know about her and Jim.
‘I’m sorry for trying to push you,’ Kevin went on. ‘For a story, I mean.’ He looked at her, and she could see his human side appearing again. It didn’t come out to play all that often, but she knew him well enough to know it was making an appearance now. ‘I can see it hasn’t been the easiest of times.’
‘It’s been complicated,’ Amber said, wishing she could close her eyes and make the rest of the world go away, leaving just her and Jim. Alone. For a little while, at least. She’d really like that. ‘But, hopefully, things are working out fine now.’
‘And what about Ryan?’
She looked at her boss, unsure as to whether he was being a friend or digging for more information. ‘What about him?’
‘Whoa, don’t jump on the defensive, missy. I’m just asking. I’m not the editor of some frigging tabloid rag, y’know. I’m not suddenly gonna publish every little thing you tell me in the form of some seedy, sex-fuelled story. Although…’
Striker (Book 1 in the 'Striker' Trilogy) Page 52
