“No,
it’s fine,” I said. “There’s no need at all for you to come
back right now.”
“Are
you sure?” Wenceslao Abieta, my team captain, was refusing to get
off the phone until I’d reassured him at least fifteen times that
he could stay in Brazil and see the rest of the World Cup without
everything here going to rack and ruin. Not that it hadn’t already…
“I’m
sure,” I said. “Very sure. Go party or whatever you’re doing.”
“Party?
You think I want to party? Did Sid tell you -”
“No,
he didn’t and I don’t want you to, either,” I said. “I’ve
been too busy to watch the footie or even keep up with the scores.”
“Too
- busy?”
“I’ve
been distracted. I was kidnapped. One of the new players was
kidnapped. There’s a hole where we should be playing year after
next. Little things like that. So don’t tell me any scores. Is
everyone else okay there?”
“Yeah,
no problems,” he said. “Tim Talbot went missing overnight but it
turned out he was at Fortaleza Zoo.”
“All
night?”
“Seems
so. He says he was looking at the animals and lost track of time.”
“That
sounds like him.”
“Yeah.
In a world of his own. Apart from that everyone’s fine. You’re
sure you don’t need -”
“No,”
I said. “I’m perfectly able to cope with a few little problems.”
“The
stadium falling into the ground?”
“It’s
not the stadium,” I said. “Just the pitch.”
“I
dunno why that makes it so much better,” he said. “Oh, I found
you a goalkeeper, anyway.”
“Pardon?”
I said.
“To
replace Barry. I mean, a broken leg, he’s not going to be playing
for a long time. So I found you a new one. Someone I used to know
when I lived in Peru. He’s playing in Germany right now, but he’s
here in Brazil for the World Cup.”
“He’s
- playing for Germany?” For a moment I thought all my dreams had
come true, then I realised that Manuel Neuer was highly unlikely to
have ever lived in Peru.
“No,
just watching,” Wes said. “But he’s good.”
“Do
you not think I can find my own goalkeeper?” I asked.
“I
thought it’d be helpful. You must have a lot on your plate at the
moment, what with people being kidnapped every five minutes and so
on.”
“The
bloke that was kidnapped is
a goalkeeper. I was
thinking he might replace James. Or Barry, now that Barry’s
injured.”
“You’ll
still need another, won’t you?”
“It’s
dependent on someone taking James as an exchange,” I said. “I
can’t afford to pay three of them. I’ll talk to you about it when
you get back.”
After
a few more pleasantries and reassurances I managed to get off the
phone and turned it onto silent with a sigh of relief. I put it down
on the kitchen table, determined to ignore it for the rest of the
night. I felt I had more important things to do. Much more important
things. One, anyway.
*********
“He’s
in bed,” Sid said from the doorway.
“What?”
I turned to him. “Who is?”
“Jelle.
I’ve tucked him in and so on.”
“Dear
God,” I said. “This team gets stranger by the day.”
“So,
uh.”
“Yes,”
I replied.
“Do
you, uh, want,” He paused and pushed his hair back out of his eyes,
then clung onto it like a child with a security blanket.
“Do
I want?” I prompted him. Seeing Sid so unusually lost for words
almost made me forget how nervous I was myself. I’d almost welcomed
all the annoying phone calls that had followed the events of the day
because I hadn’t had to deal with - that important thing.
“Coffee?”
Sid offered.
“I
can’t believe you’ve bottled out,” I said, smiling at him.
“There’s something I’ve never seen before.”
“I
just realised I was maybe taking it for granted,” Sid said, staring
at the floor. “I mean - I thought, you know, you’d want to.”
“I
do want to,” I said and, looking at him like this, I really wanted
to. I was starting to feel my clothes were too small for me,
especially in the lower regions. I hoped we’d be able to get past
all this chat soon and onto a more physical way of expressing
ourselves.
“I
thought you wanted Jelle,” I said.
“Eh?
What for?” Sid looked up at me, surprised.
“Uh,
sex.”
“Jelle?
Sex with Jelle? That’s just - peculiar. He’s like a little kid.
What gave you that idea?”
“I
can’t remember,” I confessed. “I just -”
“Didn’t
I tell you I didn’t want him?” Sid took a step closer, looking up
at me. “Did you think I was lying to you?” he went on.
“Uh
-”
“I’ve
never lied to you. For God’s sake. I’ve been trying to get you to
look at me ever since I found out you were gay. No, to be honest, I
was trying to get you to look at me even before
I found out you were gay. Just in case.”
“You
were?”
“No
points for observation,
Boss.”
“Then
it’s a good thing I’ve got you to point out what I miss,” I
said.
Sid
smiled. “I thought you maybe wanted Donato, anyway,” he said.
“You look at him like that sometimes.”
“I’m
just looking,” I said.
“Yeah,
everyone looks at him,” Sid said. “He’s lookable. At. Totally
hench.”
“Yes.
But it’s only like looking at - I don’t know, a painting or
something,” I said. “Something you admire - I can’t talk to him
like I can to you.”
“Oh,
shit.” Sid gave me a look of mock horror. “I’ve got this all
wrong, haven’t I? I didn’t realise you thought we were going to
have a conversation.”
“I
have to say,” it was my turn to take a step closer and I did,
“right at this moment I’m hoping we’re not going to have a
conversation for too much longer.”
Sid
laughed and while he was laughing I took the last step, put my arms
round him and kissed him.
It
was a gentle kiss but it stopped him laughing. He muttered something
into the kiss, clutched me and kissed me back as if he’d been
waiting a very long time to do it.
“Bedtime,”
I said as the need for oxygen made us break apart for a moment.
“Yeah.”
“Uh
-” I came to the realisation that I was really, really bad at this.
Lack of practise, I presumed. “What, er, do you want to do when we
get there?”
“That's
organised.” Sid looked amused. “Shall we make a to-do list? Put a
chart on the wall?”
“Um.
No - I just wondered -”
“I'm
not fussy. I'll take what I can get and say thank you.”
“Yes,
but -”
“Give
over being nice,” he said. “You think I haven't already worked
out what position you like to play in?”
“Oh.
Is that -”
“It's
fine. Whatever you want.”
“Sid,”
I murmured, half just to hear myself say it, half in wonderment. Who
would have thought?
“You
can call me my name if you want,” he said as we headed for the
stairs. “My first name, I mean.”
“Sebastian?”
“Yeah,
if you like.” We went through his bedroom door and he grabbed me.
We fell onto the bed together.
“You
- you had better call me Noel,” I said while I still had enough
sense to say it. That would be strange, I thought. Nobody called me
Noel apart from family at Christmas.
“That’s
weird.” Sid, also momentarily distracted, grinned at me. “Noel.
Seems - funny. I mean -”
“I
don’t want us to have the kind of sex relationship where you feel
you have to call me Boss,” I said, which made him burst out
laughing. He clung to me, shaking. “I’m not going to call you
Minion either,” I went on.
“Fuck,
I always wondered what it’d be like to be a minion,” he said,
then he looked up at me and stopped laughing. “Boss - uh, Noel -”
“Hm?”
“Get
on with it, will you?”
*********
“Water.”
“Pardon?”
I struggled to sit up, realising what was required. There was a glass
of water on the table and I passed it to Sid.
“Fuck
me,” he said after he'd drunk about half the glass and passed it
back to me.
“What,
again?” I said. “Right now?”
“In
a minute,” he said. “What's happened to the bed?”
We
flung off the mess our remaining clothes had become and managed to
put the bedcovers back into some semblance of order before getting
into them.
“Now,
Sebastian,” I said, rolling over to look down at him.
“Now?”
Sid raised an eyebrow. “You've got some stamina, haven't you?”
The
bedroom door opened.
We
both turned to look.
“I
can not sleep up there,” Jelle said. He was clutching the edge of
the door and wearing a long white nightshirt that looked like a
hand-me-down from Ebenezer Scrooge. “It is dark and when I put the
light on it is worse. There is something walking around on the roof
outside.”
“Birds?”
I said.
“What,
owls?” Sid said. “We’ve got owls on the roof?”
“I
think you normally only get one of those at a time,” I said. “They
don't flock.” I realised what a compromising position we were both
in and moved away from Sid, pulling the covers up over us.
“I
don’t know what it is,” Jelle said. “But I have heard it and I
do not wish to sleep under it.”
“Looks
like nobody’s going to sleep under anybody tonight,” Sid said.
“Come on, you can get in here.”
“I
want to be in the middle,” Jelle said, leaping onto the bed and
diving in between us. “Then no roofwalking things can find me.”
He pulled the covers up right over his head, leaving Sid and I with
an impassable barrier between us.
“Fine,”
I said. I looked across at Sid and shook my head. He rolled his eyes.
“We
could probably do with a good night’s sleep,” he said.
“I’ve
slept a lot more recently than I’ve -”
“Yes,
well, there’s other times for that,” Sid said. “It’s not like
I’m going anywhere.”
“No,”
I said. “I mean, I hope not.”
Sid
smiled and leaned over and kissed me.
“Is
that kissing?” Jelle stuck his head out from under the covers.
“Yes,
here’s one for you,” Sid said, kissing him as well. “Now go to
sleep and don’t tell anyone.”
“About
the monster on the roof?”
“About
the kissing.”
“I’m
not stupid,” Jelle said, eyes closing, his head on my
pillow, I ruefully
noticed. “I know what people do in private is not always what they
want to say.”
“Good,”
I said. “Um, and it’s probably just as well if you don’t
mention the monster on the roof either.”
“You
think perhaps that will annoy it? And it comes to eat me?”
“I
think perhaps - I think it’s probably best to just let sleeping
monsters lie.”
“Yeah,
it’s not everyone wants a beast in their bed,” Sid said, with a
wink for me.
“I
know you are talking about sex,” Jelle said. “If you want to do
that, go ahead. I will not mind. I have seen it before.”
There
was silence.
“I
think - we’re probably a bit tired now,” I finally said.
“Now
who’s bottling out?” Sid said.
I
gave him a look and he grinned back at me.
“I’ll
go put the light out,” he said, which at least gave me a nice view
as he went across the room.
I
settled down to sleep next to Jelle, which wasn’t anything like
what I’d planned. Still, as Sid said, we had plenty of time. Not
that I ever
had plenty of time. We’d
have to make
time for each other. That
wouldn’t be a hardship, I thought. Just the thought of being alone
with him again - probably wasn’t something I should think about if
I wanted to ever get to sleep tonight.
We
needed to find a minder for Jelle as well, I considered as I drifted
off. Someone reliable to be with him night and day. He couldn’t
sleep with us every night so he needed someone to keep him company.
Someone who’d make sure he didn’t get into trouble or see
chocolate… what kind of person would that be?
*********
“There
are men all over the garden.”
I
woke to this statement, uttered by Jelle, who was looking out of the
window of Sid’s bedroom.
“What
kind of men?” I asked.
“It
seems like the press to me,” he said. “Photographers.”
“Bloody
hell,” I said, getting up in a hurry and wondering what had
happened to my clothes. They should have been on the floor. And where
was Sid?
“Here
you go.” Sid came through the door, a tray full of mugs in his
hands, my clothes hanging over his arm. “Have some tea while you
get dressed. I didn’t have time to wash them but I’ve ironed them
a bit. You’ve seen the crowd down there, right?”
“Yes,”
I said, taking my clothes and hurrying them on. “Thanks.”
“Good
thing they didn’t start trying to climb up and look through the
windows,” Sid said.
“We
could push them back down again,” Jelle said, cheerfully homicidal.
“Like when your castle is attacked by soldiers with ladders.”
“Fuck,
I forgot to put the cauldrons of boiling oil on to warm up,” Sid
said. “Talking of ladders, I should get someone round to check out
the roof and see what’s living up there.”
“No!”
Jelle clutched at Sid’s arm. “You must not disturb the monster.
If you make it unhappy, who knows what it might do? I will try again
to sleep there. It is not a problem.”
Not
for you, I thought, but didn’t bother saying. I had the reporters
outside to deal with first.
*********
“There’ll
be a press conference on Thursday,” I said, Thursday being the
longest I thought I could put it off. “The new players’ll be
signing their contracts today, the very first day of the transfer
window; then we’ll look at the squad and see if we need to make any
further refinements.”
“Rumour
has it James Halliwell is leaving the Wanderers.” The speaker was
from one of the Middlesbrough papers, probably Rob Ryan’s
replacement there. She was a large woman, short-haired, looked like
she’d make a good centre back.
“I
believe he’s interested in moving to a European club,” I said.
“Fancies some foreign travel. That’s all I can tell you, because
that’s all I know myself right now.”
“So
you’re signing a new keeper?” This from Rob Ryan, giving me a
cheeky grin from the back of the crowd.
“I’m
signing a new keeper,” I said. “We decided not to bother trying
to play without one.”
General
laughter at that and a few glances at Ryan, who flushed and lost his
grin.
“What
about the new stadium?” he demanded. “And wasn’t one of your
players kidnapped?”
“You
seem to know more about that than I do,” I said, giving him a look.
“But you’re not going to know any more about it until Friday. The
recent, uh, unusual events around the team are going to be discussed
in the press, but not in the Knightley Herald, I’m afraid, Adrian.
Um, sorry, I mean, Rob.”
Rob
Ryan opened his mouth and found nothing to say. I enjoyed that.
“We’re
giving an exclusive to the Knightley Star,” I said.
“What,
the weekly free paper?” the man from the Yorkshire Post looked
amazed.
“What
- us?” The bespectacled young woman from the Star stared up at me.
She looked like a fifteen-year-old on work experience.
“That’s
right,” I said. “See me this afternoon at Darkhill Park and we’ll
sort it out.”
“Ooh!”
she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll get the
photographer.”
“I’ve
got one more announcement to make for general release,” I said,
forestalling any more questions about my choice of recipients for the
tale of recent events. “There has been some concern from fans
recently about the cost of tickets rising, should we achieve our
ambitions and get into the Premier League.”
I
paused for effect, while the press recorded or wrote what I’d said.
I didn’t want them getting any of this wrong.
“Therefore,”
I went on, “the club is going to make a special, one time only
offer to the fans that have supported us for so long. Anyone buying a
season ticket for this year, will get next year’s for the same
price, no matter what division we end up in.”
I
left them with that and pushed through them to the Land Rover, where
Sid was waiting with his foot on the clutch.
*********
“Cat
among the pigeons,” Sid said as we pulled up at Bandhill. Some of
the press were following us and we hurried inside before they could
catch up. “When the Board find out.”
“I
can understand how they feel,” I said. I ushered him and Jelle and
Donato, who’d come with us, into my office. “The fans, I mean.
It’s a lot of money and everyone’s got less of that all the
time.”
My
phone started belting out Beethoven and I sighed, looking at who was
calling me. Jack Campion. Vice-president of the Board of Directors.
Someone had let him know in double quick time. Probably Rob Ryan, the
lying toerag.
I’m
a good football manager, as I said. But sometimes, being good isn’t
quite enough. That’s when you need - a little something extra. And
over the course of my tenure here, I’d made sure that I had that
little something extra when it came to dealing with each and every
member of the Board. Just in case.
“What
do you think you’re doing?” Campion set off at a run, no pause
for hello, how are you. I let him rant for a few moments about how my
giving away cheap season tickets was going to bankrupt the club and
didn’t I know it would cost a lot more to run if we were in the
Premier League.
“One
of our new players is a transvestite,” I said, when he finally
paused for breath.
“And
another thing…” There was silence. “What
did you say?”
“I
was a bit surprised myself when I found out,” I said. “But, you
know. We aim to be inclusive, don’t we? I mean, people do all kinds of things, it’s not our place to judge.”
“Uh
- yes.”
“I
mean, anyone might find themselves drawn to wearing clothes of the
other gender. It's not that unusual. Happens in all walks of life.
Footballers, businessmen, members of Boards of Directors -”
“You've
made your point,” Campion muttered. “But you can't prove -”
“I've
got photos.” I was lying, but he wasn't to know. I had the next
best thing anyway, which was the phone number of the rent boy he did
his dressing up with.
There
was silence for a moment, until I broke it.
“So
what I was thinking - you do want to know what I was thinking, don’t
you, Mr Campion?”
“Uh
- yes.”
“I
was thinking that we might lose a bit on the season tickets next
year. But we’ll make it back on normal ticket sales, advertising,
sponsorship and so on. Also we’ll make a lot of money this year as
everyone rushes to get their season ticket in the hope of a cheap one
next year. And this year is when we need it the most, since the new
pitch fell in. Who knows what it might cost to sort that out?”
“I,
uh,” Campion paused. I could hear him taking a deep breath. “I’m
sorry, Stewart. Went off at half cock a bit.”
“No
problem,” I said. “It’s just - anything that gets the fans into
the seats. We need a good strong twelfth man to cheer the team on
this year. Help us win.”
“Yes,
of course,” Campion said. “I understand your reasoning now.
Brilliant. Can’t fault it. I’ll, uh, have a word with the other
Board members, shall I?”
“That
would be incredibly helpful,” I said. “I’m a bit pushed for
time. New players and so on?”
“Yes,
um.” Campion brightened up. “I must say, they sound very
interesting.
I might just drop in, you know, and have a word. Welcome them to the
club, explain our, um, inclusivity policy and so on, what do you
think?”
“I
think that would be a wonderful idea,” I said. With my fingers
crossed.
*********
All
my manipulation and blackmail done for the day, I leaned back against
my desk with my eyes closed. What next? I needed to put up a notice
in the dressing room saying ‘no cocoa products allowed.’ Then -
“Hey,
Gaffer, you know that whatsisface?” Jason Lee was looking around my
door.
“What
face?” I asked. “Who?”
“That
Metcalfe, the one that kidnapped you.”
“Yes,
I’ll never forget him,” I said.
“You
want to know what he was doing up in that old tower?”
“I
don’t know,” I said. “Do I?”
“Yes.
You do.”
“Tell
me then,” I said. I sat down at my desk and waited. What now?
“Duty
frees,” he said.
“Pardon?
“There’s
a cellar. Donato found it. It was full of cigs and wine and stuff.
Metcalfe must be one of those people that goes round pubs and
people’s houses, selling cheap booze.”
“Good
heavens,” I said. “What did you do with it?”
“We
said nothing to the police and went back last night. One of Luke
Macabeo's mates has got a van.”
“Where
is it now?” I asked.
“Um,
outside. I was wondering if we could put it in that old shed where we
used to store balls and stuff.”
“You’ll
need to get a new padlock for the door,” I said. “And I don't
want it to stay there for too long.”
“I
thought somebody in the team’d be able to find someone to shift it
for us. We’re bound to make something out of it. Put it towards
fixing up that hole in the pitch.”
“I
suppose so,” I said, thinking about it. It was illegal, of course.
I wasn’t sure which was the more illegal, stealing the stuff from
Metcalfe or selling duty frees. “Make sure nobody can trace it back
to us,” I said.
“I’ll
be careful,” he assured me and took himself off. I went to look for
Sid and found him having a kickabout outside with Fib and Yves. Jelle
and James were down the back, kicking a ball against a wall and
alternately catching it. At least, Jelle was catching it and James
was mostly missing.
“I
think everything’s sorted out,” I said. “Well, apart from most
of the transfer stuff and the hole in the new pitch.”
“What
do you expect when you try and build your stadium on top of a fairy
hill?” Fib asked.
We
all stared at him.
“It’s
flat,” I said. “It’s a football stadium. By definition - flat.
No hill anywhere.”
“Just
hang on,” Fib said and hurried off inside.
I
looked after him, then shrugged.
“What’s
going on there?” Sid pointed over to where Jason and Donato were
moving boxes, a van backed up to the old equipment shed.
“I
have no idea,” I said. “And neither do you. And they’re moving
equipment for the team. And I’ll tell you later.”
“Oh,
is it the duty frees?” Yves asked.
“Does
everyone already know?” I said.
“Yeah,”
Sid said. “Don’t worry about it, Boss. No-one’ll say anything.”
“What
are they doing now?” I watched in some perturbation as Donato and
Jason came over to us, each of them holding a box.
“Look
at this, Boss.” Donato had a large wooden box, like a tea chest. He
put it down and pulled the top open.
“That’s
not duty frees,” I said. I took out one of the straw-bedded wine
bottles, carefully holding it sideways, the way it had been packed.
“Bloody hell.”
“What
is it, Boss?” Sid peered at the dusty bottle with interest.
“Expensive,”
I said. “Where was this?”
“In
the back of the cellar at the tower,” Jason said.
“Either
someone else has been storing their valuables up there,” I said,
“Or this has been there a very long time.”
“It’s
probably treasure trove,” Sid said. “Belongs to nobody.”
“It
belongs to us now,” Donato said.
“We
won’t get rid of that down the pub,” Sid said.
“No,
we’ll have to sell it at Christie’s or something,” I said.
“Could be a bit difficult without provenance. What’s this other
one?”
“Dunno.”
Jason handed me a small box. It was ornate, decorated with floral
patterns in - it had to be brass, didn’t it? Nobody’d put that
much gold on a box and just leave it in a cellar. Would they? I
lifted the small latch and opened it.
“What
the -?” I said.
“That’s
funny,” Sid said.
“It
is a dish.” Donato told everyone what they could already see for
themselves.
“Who’d
put a pot dish in a fancy box like that?” Jason asked.
“I
have no idea.” I squatted on the floor, the box on my knees and
lifted the brown earthenware dish out to see if there was anything
underneath it. There was.
“That’s
even bloody stranger,” I said, pulling out a wooden spoon. I looked
at it. It wasn’t the kind of spoon you’d stir soup or baked beans
with. It was much shorter with more of a bowl to it and the end of
the shaft was carved into a rounded Celtic knot.
“Look
at this, Gaffer.” Fib was back, a large sheet of paper in his
hands. A map. I put the bowl and spoon back in the box and tucked it
under my arm as I stood up.
“What
is it?” I asked.
“OS
map,” he said. “See?” He dropped to the ground and spread it
out in front of us.
“What
exactly -” I began.
“Look
at the contours,” he said.
“I
don’t -”
“You
think your new ground is flat.” Fib pointed at the map, circling
with his finger. “But it’s only flat because it’s on the top of
a really
big
hill.”
“I
suppose so,” I said. “But you could say that for a lot of
places.”
“It’s
even called hill,” he persisted. “Bandhill.”
“Is
that because - a fairy band used to play here?” Donato asked.
“No,
I know this one,” I said. “It’s a Celtic thing. Ban, meaning
white. There’s a white hill and a dark hill - Darkhill Park, where
we train. I see what you mean, Fib. Both of them are on hills but
they’re flat on the top.”
“Exactly.”
Fib sat back on his heels and looked up at us.
I
wasn’t sure what to say to him about all this. Donato and Jason,
obviously wanting nothing to do with it, drifted away back to the old
shed.
“Who’s
that?” I said, attention distracted. Over by the far wall, Jelle,
football in his hands, was bending to talk to a very small man. A
midget or was that not PC any more? What was I supposed to say?
Dwarf? Vertically challenged?
Luke's
mate’s van pulled away from the equipment shed obscuring my view of
Jelle and the little man.
“Who’s
what?” Sid asked.
“That
man over there,” I said. “Talking to - where’s he gone?”
The
van had pulled out into the carpark proper and Jelle was once again
kicking a ball against a wall. With James. Nobody else there.
“What
man?” Sid asked.
“I
don’t know,” I said. “A little man.”
“How
little?” Fib had got to his feet and was looking at me intently.
“I
- it was a mistake,” I said. I didn’t think it was a good idea to
get into conversation with Fib about little people of any kind. Who
knew what he might make of that? “I need to go indoors and get the
solicitors over here so you can sign your contracts.”
I
hurried away and it wasn’t until I was back in my office that I
realised I’d brought along the small box with the bowl and spoon.
Never mind. I’d give it back to Donato or Jason later. Not that it
was theirs anyway. I put it down on my desk, resolving to polish it
up when I had a minute and see if I could work out what it was
actually made of.
*********
“You
need a break, Noel.”
I
looked up from my paperwork to find Sid in the doorway.
“I’ll
make you some coffee,” he said.
“Thanks.”
I leaned back in my chair and watched him. I wanted him. I wanted him
right here on my desk. Of course, that was impractical and would
probably lose us both our jobs. I wondered when we could get together
again. If he wanted to.
“A
break?” I finally processed what he’d said through the filters of
lust preoccupying my mind.
“Yeah,
a holiday.” Sid came over and put my coffee down on my desk, then
perched on the edge of it, looking down at me.
“I
don’t have time -” I began.
“You
can do all the transfer stuff on the phone,” he said. “Be back in
time to sign everything. Leave everybody instructions what workout
they’ve got to do.”
“I
really -”
“We
could go to Spain. Or Cyprus. The Greek islands. Italy. I can go
online and find somewhere we can book right now.”
“We?”
I stared up at him.
“Yeah.
You and me.”
“On
holiday?”
“Yeah.”
“Together?”
“Yeah.”
I
stared around at the papers on my desk. There were a lot of things
needed sorting out, not least my goalkeeper conundrums. Jelle’s
welfare being a big part of that. Why had I employed such a troubled
goalkeeper? And a delusional fullback, come to that. With a huge and
bad-tempered dog. Where was the dog, anyway?
“We
can have sex all day long and sleep together every night,” Sid
said.
“Okay,
then,” I said. “Where do you say you want to go?”
He
laughed and stood up.
“Gotcha,”
he said.
“Yes.”
I smiled up at him. “I think you do.”
THE END
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PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE THIS STORY ANYWHERE WITHOUT PRIOR PERMISSION.
DO NOT COPY THIS STORY IN WHOLE OR IN PART AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN WORK.
COPYRIGHT ALEX SWEENEY SEPTEMBER 2014
PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE THIS STORY ANYWHERE WITHOUT PRIOR PERMISSION.
DO NOT COPY THIS STORY IN WHOLE OR IN PART AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN WORK.
COPYRIGHT ALEX SWEENEY SEPTEMBER 2014