Michelle Betham - Final Score

‘Yeah. I love you, too,’ she whispered, watching as he left the room.

Max closed the door behind him. ‘Well, thanks for making me sit through something bordering on some schmaltzy scene from a Hollywood movie.’

She looked up and poked her tongue out at him.

‘Nice. You know, if you took Ice magazine up on their second, much more lucrative offer, and did exactly that whilst wearing nothing but your ex-husband’s suit jacket you’d make sure they sold so many copies they’d have to order a dozen reprints.’

‘I’m going to start ignoring you. I’m almost on the wrong side of forty now, and I’ve just had a baby. I think my days of doing glamour shoots are over.’

‘You’ve only done the one.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But you’ve got a body kids half your age would kill for.’

‘So? Does that mean I have to get it out for all and sundry to look at? And why are we talking about this?’

Max walked further into the room, stopping to check out the array of Manager of the Month awards that lined the wall of Jim’s office. ‘This has shattered Ryan.’

‘I can’t help that, Max.’

He turned to face her. ‘Maybe you should have trusted him. Given him a little more credit. Told him about this before now.’

‘Don’t lay the guilt trip on me, Max, please. I feel bad enough as it is.’

‘Was he okay? When you left him?’

‘He seemed fine.’

‘ Seemed ?’

‘He seemed fine, Max. Okay? What do you want me to say? I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about his, I can’t do that. Not any more.’

‘I know. I know you can’t.’

‘I care about him, believe me. And what I’m doing, I’m not proud of it. I didn’t want any of this to happen. But Jim, he’s… he’s like some drug I just can’t give up. He’s a lifelong addiction, Max. And I can’t kick it.’

Max looked at her. ‘Then Ryan’s just going to have to deal with that, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, he is.’

*

‘Have you seen this?’ Gary stared up at the huge, oversized TV screen that hung on the wall in his pristine white kitchen. ‘What the fuck…?’ He looked at Ryan. ‘Did you know about this?’

Ryan didn’t look at the TV. He just continued to sink mouthful after mouthful of beer from the bottle Gary had just given him. ‘I didn’t know a fucking thing, mate. Not until a couple of hours ago.’

‘Jesus…’ Gary looked at the TV again, turning the volume up so he could hear Jim Allen as he spoke.

‘Does that have to be so loud?’ Debbie stopped in her tracks as she joined them in the kitchen, her eyes automatically going to the screen. ‘Has he just said he’s leaving Newcastle Red Star?’

‘Shut up, Debbie, will you? I’m trying to listen.’

‘What about Amber?’

‘What about her? Can you just zip it for a second, huh? Just let me listen.’

Debbie sat down at the breakfast bar that separated the functional part of the kitchen from the family room area. Not that any area of Debbie’s kitchen was particularly functional. She very rarely cooked anything that needed more than a quick re-heat, so it was little wonder that every one of her many expensive appliances were still sparkling and brand new.

‘When the fuck did this all kick off?’ Gary sat back down, taking a big swig from his own bottle of lager. ‘And who told you ?’ He directed that question at Ryan, who was still refusing to look up.

‘Max. Well, he didn’t tell me, as such, he mentioned it and… Look, does it matter who told me?’

‘So, it wasn’t Amber who told you?’ Debbie asked.

Ryan finally looked up, his eyes meeting Debbie’s. ‘No. It wasn’t Amber who told me. And before you start giving me the Spanish Inquisition, yes, I’ve spoken to her, and no, everything isn’t fine.’

‘That’s why you’re round here, then, is it?’ Gary took another swig of lager, smirking slightly at Ryan, who ignored him.

‘Do you want me to go?’

‘That’s not what I said, mate.’

‘She never said anything to me…’ Debbie’s voice trailed off as she fished her mobile phone out of her pocket.

‘Well, it would seem she didn’t say much to anyone,’ Ryan sniffed. ‘And I wouldn’t bother trying to call her. She’ll be in there.’ He cocked his head toward the TV, where questions were now being fired left, right and centre at Jim Allen.

Debbie put her phone down and sat back on her stool, looking over at Ryan. ‘I can’t believe this. I’m assuming, because of the state of you, that Amber’s going with him?’

‘Why else do you think he’s leaving, Debbie?’ Gary got up to fetch two more bottles of lager from the imposing double fridge at the back of the room.

‘Okay. Don’t start on me. ’ She looked back over at Ryan. ‘I thought you would’ve been glad to see the back of Jim Allen.’

He threw her an almost withering look. ‘Yeah, and I would have been, if he hadn’t been taking my girlfriend and son with him.’

Debbie bit down on her lip, scrunching up her nose. ‘Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think…’

Gary put the beers back and shut the fridge door. ‘Look, instead of hanging round here looking at your miserable face, let’s go out. Have a few drinks in town.’

‘Is that a good idea?’ Debbie nudged her head in the direction of Ryan, trying to keep her voice low.

‘I am here y’know.’ There was a slightly irritated tone to Ryan’s voice now.

‘He’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now, aren’t you, mate?’ Gary winked, grabbing his phone from the countertop. ‘You just need to get out, have some fun. Take your mind off everything. It’ll be just like old times.’

‘It better not be,’ Debbie muttered, slipping down from her stool and picking up the pile of ironed baby clothes that were lying on the breakfast bar. ‘And try not to make too much noise when you come back in, Gary, okay? Because, if you wake Jodi, I don’t care how much you’ve had to drink, you’re the one that’ll be settling her back down.’

Gary ran over to Debbie and picked her up in his arms, swinging her round before putting her back down and kissing her quickly. ‘I won’t be late, and I won’t be drunk.’

‘Yeah.’ Debbie threw him a sideways smile, retrieving the baby clothes she’d dropped when he’d picked her up. ‘And where have I heard that one before?’

*

Amber stood at the back of the room, her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans, her eyes never leaving Jim as he spoke, his expression sincere, his voice steady as he spoke of how much Newcastle Red Star meant to him, not only as a manager, but as a player, too.

A wave of guilt stabbed her chest and she briefly looked down at the floor. If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. If it wasn’t for her, this club wouldn’t be losing the best manager they’d ever had – the best manager the game had seen in a long, long time.

She briefly closed her eyes, silently scolding herself for giving in to another bout of self-pity because she didn’t deserve that luxury. She’d helped cause this mess. She’d done that.

Looking over at Jim again she felt her stomach contract as his eyes locked onto hers, and he smiled – at her . A smile that may have been brief but it was meant only for her, she knew that. It was a smile that was trying to tell her it was all going to be okay, because that’s what Jim Allen did. He told her how things would be.

He broke the stare and turned his attention back to the room, but that smile he’d aimed directly at her hadn’t gone unnoticed by a few of the more eagle-eyed journalists and reporters in the room, some of whom had now turned around to look at her, which made her feel more than a little uncomfortable. She still wasn’t a fan of being anywhere near the limelight. She may be what they classed as a minor celebrity now; a famous face in the world of sports presenting. And she may have appeared on more than a handful of magazine covers and done photo shoots that had caused more than a few eyebrows to be raised, but sometimes she felt as though someone else entirely had done all of those things, because it was still hard for her to get her head around everything that had happened to her. But being the centre of attention, having people interested in every move she made, having them write about her personal life and ask questions that nobody but those closest to her should ask, that still wasn’t something Amber could get used to. Nor did she want to.