Future Queens of England (17 page)

Gareth’s cheeks coloured, “It’s not burgundy, it’s red!”  He stamped his foot as he shouted, “Red!  Red!  Red!”  The team looked amazed, the ‘unfazable’ Gareth was fazed and over such minutiae. 

“Calm down, Gareth, keep your knickers on,” Tony said.  “What’s the bloody difference between red and burgundy anyway?”

“Red is the colour of sex!  Burgundy is the colour of hot water bottles!” he wailed in disbelief at Tony.  He spoke quickly and furiously, barely stopping to catch his breath, “Red is the colour of sex and fear and danger and signs that say, ‘do not enter’,” and as he said these final words he framed them in the air with his hands.  He stopped his rant and gasped for air, staring at Tony as he waited for his response.

Tony laughed, whilst everyone else tried to blend into the scenery.  “You’ve just listed all of my favourite things in life,” Tony said with a smile.  “Though you could have changed the wording on the back of my shorts from ‘nobody’s bitch’ to ‘do not enter’, I would have really appreciated that.” 

“You really have changed Tony,” Bruce said, smirking.  “A month ago you wouldn’t have known the colour burgundy from maroon.” 

Tony frowned, not sure how to take this comment, and grunted in a non-committal way.

“I’m proud of you, mate.  If anyone could make Gareth lose his cool I knew it’d be you,” he joked, “you really have a talent for it.”

Tony relaxed and thought hard for something to say.  “Err, thanks Bruce, I’ll be sure to add that skill to my CV.”

“I don’t know what’s funnier, you adding it to you CV, or that idea that you even have a CV,” Gareth said, calming down after his outburst.

“Well, try it on then, Tony,” cried Ben unable to contain himself.  “Let’s see what our glorious leader looks like all kitted up.”

“Look away then,” Tony ordered, “I’m not giving you bastards a cheap thrill.”

“Come this way, Tony,” Gareth said, taking the kit from Tony and shaking the folds out.  “It’ll be a little more private.”  He and Hugh led Tony to the doors that linked to the main building.  He handed Tony the new kit and said, “Slip this on.”

Tony took the kit from them and placed it on the tiled floor, and then he removed his shirt and newly-purchased shorts and put on the new kit.  “What do you think?”

Gareth and Hugh tugged and pulled at it critically, “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Tony!” Gareth exclaimed in frustration, “it doesn’t fit properly!  It’s too tight around the chest and too loose around the stomach.” 

Tony shrugged as if to say ‘not my fault’. 

“Jesus, Tony. Every time we measure or fit you you’ve changed bloody shape again.  Where’s your beer belly now?”

Tony patted his stomach.  “It’s hard to maintain a beer belly when there’s no bloody beer around.  I’ve been training almost every day with the team and I guess I’ve lost a few pounds.”

“And gained a few pounds of muscle,” Hugh said squeezing Tony’s arm.

Tony shrugged him off, “Get off me, you bender.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter, we just need to make a few minor adjustments and it’ll be ready for tomorrow’s game,” Gareth reasoned.  “I just hope your body settles down a bit now.”

The three of them walked back to where the team were waiting patiently and Gareth and Hugh presented Tony to them.  They greeted him with a round of applause and cheered.  After a minute or two the clapping and cheering petered out and the team all stared at Tony expectantly.

“I think you’d better say something, Tony,” Ben whispered, “and try and make it inspirational.”

Tony looked nervously at them and coughed.  Eventually he spoke, “As you know we have our first game tomorrow.  We’ve all practised long and hard and now we need to give it all we’ve got.  There’s no way we can lose.  No retreat, no surrender!” Tony bellowed at the top of his voice.  Tony’s call to arms fell on deaf ears. 

“You’re having a laugh,” Bruce shouted over to Tony.  “We’re going to get thrashed tomorrow, we’re absolute shite.”

The group muttered in agreement and nodded their heads.

“We won’t lose, I’m sure of it,” Tony said, beginning to doubt himself.

“How sure?”

“I’m so sure I’ll put money on it if you like,” Tony said defiantly.

“Forget money,” Bruce said, “where’s the motivation for you to lead us to glory.  If we lose, then you lose a few quid.  We need higher stakes,” he said as he scratched his head trying to think of something.  Suddenly his eyes lit up, “I know just the thing.  If we lose you have to come with us to a gay lap dancing club and have one dance.”

“Fuck off!  You queer bastard,” Tony said out of instinct.

The room fell quiet for a moment in shock, before a mixture of angry and deflated voices started to rise. 

“See!  I told you, even the captain doesn’t think we can do it,” said one of the team.

“Well, if he doesn’t think we can do it then why bother?” said another.

“Hey!” shouted Tony.  The group fell silent.  “I’m sure we can do it.”

“Prove it,” bellowed Paul.

“Yeah, if you’re so sure then take the bet,” another voice called out.  “If you’re so sure that we’ll win then there’s no risk involved for you, is there?”

Tony swallowed nervously before continuing.  “Okay, okay.  I’ll prove it, but when we win I don’t want any innuendos for a week and if we lose, which we won’t,” he added quickly, “then I’ll go to the bloody club with you.”

“And have a lap dance?” Bruce shouted.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Tony said through gritted teeth.

“From a gay man,” Bruce said.

“Yes,” Tony shouted losing his temper, “from a bleeding gay man.  From the gayest man that you can find.  But you’re wasting your time, we simply won’t lose, I won’t let you.”  He clenched his fists several times as he took deep breaths.

“Shake on it then,” Bruce said, extending his hand, “in front of all these witnesses.”

Although it obviously pained him, Tony extended his hand and shook Bruce’s.  “Deal!” he said.

The following day Tony’s screams rang out from the showers in the changing rooms as the muddied team stood nervously outside at a safe distance.  They exchanged worried glances, not really sure of what to do. 

Finally, Ben broke the silence.  “Do you think he’s alright in there?”

They each looked at one another hoping that someone would answer Ben.

Eventually, Keenan spoke up, “I’m sure he’s fine, Ben,” he said unconvincingly.

“Well, he doesn’t sound fine to me,” Ben replied.  “Shouldn’t someone go in there and check on him?”

“Seriously, Ben, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Keenan said quickly.  “I think we need to give him some space.”

“Ten-nil,” howled Tony from the showers.  “Ten-bloody-nil!”  He thumped the white tiled walls with his clenched fists and the thud reverberated throughout the changing rooms.

“He really doesn’t sound happy,” Ben reiterated to the team.

“Of course he’s not happy,” Uwe growled, “none of us are.  We lost the game.  We didn’t score a single goal, we were absolutely humiliated and now we have to stand here in our muddy, sweaty clothes waiting for Tony to calm down.”

“This is your fault!” Hugh said pointing at Bruce.

Bruce’s face became serious.  “My fault?” he said waving his hands.  “Why the bloody hell is this my fault?”

“Well, you made that stupid bet with him yesterday, didn’t you?” Hugh responded.

“We wouldn’t even be in this situation if you weren’t so shit, Hugh.  You let in every goal,” replied Bruce angrily.  “So, I say that it is your bloody fault.”

The team suddenly started to argue amongst themselves as they searched for a scapegoat.

“Hey, Hey!  Calm down,” shouted Ben over the noise.  “Everyone just needs to settle down.  It was our first game, what did you expect?” he reasoned.

“Sorry, Bruce,” Hugh said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry Hugh,” Bruce replied, reciprocating the apology.

Suddenly everyone froze as they heard the showers being turned off.

“Shit!  He’s coming out,” Keenan cried.

Tony emerged from the showers with his towel held firmly around his waist.  “What the bloody hell are you lot staring at?”  Tony roared aggressively at the team.  Their eyes darted away from Tony’s pugnacious stare as they tried to make themselves look busy.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “you bunch of friggin’ benders.” 

Ben took a step towards Tony, but Keenan reached out and pulled Ben’s arm back.

“Don’t,” Keenan said with a whisper.

“But, we can’t allow homophobic outbursts like that,” Ben whispered back.  “It’s my duty as a lecturer here to give him a warning.”

Keenan tightened his grip on Ben’s arm, “I understand that, Ben, but no one’s complaining here.    We’ve all been called a lot worse than that, we’re pretty thick-skinned.”

Ben thought about this for a moment and then nodded at Keenan.  “You’re right,” he said, “I suppose I can turn a blind eye on this occasion, due to the extenuating circumstances.”

Tony walked back to the bench where his clothes lay, swearing and banging his fist against the wall.  Most of his team-mates scurried away towards the showers stripping off their clothes.  Without saying a word they all knew that this was the safest place to be.  There wasn’t a chance that Tony would go into the showers with a herd of naked homosexuals, no matter how angry he was.

Keenan silently watched Tony dry and dress himself.  Tony threw his dirty kit into his bag and stormed out of the changing rooms, kicking the door open with his muddy trainers.

Keenan started to undress himself, whilst Ben changed out of his tracksuit and back into his normal day wear.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” shouted Hugh tentatively from the showers.

Back in the Larry Grayson Boudoir Tony knelt by the side of his bed and picked up the clothes that he’d worn over the past week and bunged them into his sports bag alongside his dirty hockey kit. 

Leaving his room silently, he made his way downstairs to the laundry room, throwing his bag onto the floor as soon as he entered the room.  He stomped over to the vending machine on the wall and bought some washing powder.  He tore the lid from the cardboard pack and poured all of the white powder into the drawer.  Cursing to himself, he pushed a coin into the dull slot and emptied his bag directly into the machine.  Tony turned the dial to a point that felt right, punched the start button and the washing machine burst into life.  He sat himself down in a chair opposite and stared absentmindedly into the heart of the washing machine, as it turned his clothes over and over.  Then stretching his legs out, he reached into his pocket and removed a packet of cigarettes and lit up.  He inhaled deeply and after a moment his shoulders relaxed, but Tony’s solitude was interrupted when the door burst open and Hugh wandered in. 

“Oh, Tony, I didn’t know you were in here,” Hugh uttered apologetically.

“Why would you?” Tony said without emotion, his eyes still trained on the machine.

“Can I come in to do my washing?” Hugh asked him hesitantly.

“It’s a free country.”

Nervously, Hugh stepped forward and went through the motions of getting his washing powder from the vending machine, loading his washing machine and turning it on.  Eventually he took a seat next to Tony.  They both sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the whir of the two machines.  

Unable to endure the silence any longer, Hugh spoke.  “Tough game today, wasn’t it?”

Tony grunted in acknowledgement and took another drag of his cigarette.

“You do know that you’re not supposed to smoke in here, don’t you?” Hugh said.

“Are you going to stop me?” Tony hissed.

“Err … well, no,” Hugh said, “I mean, you have had a bad day haven’t you?  You deserve a cigarette.  It’s just that the smoke will get into the clothes and it’ll mask the smell of the detergent.”

Tony ignored Hugh and exhaled releasing yet more smoke into the room.