Striker (36 page)

‘We’re no Posh and Becks,’ Debbie sighed, resuming the hair-curling again. ‘But we love each other, in our own funny kind of way.’

‘Does he
know
you know what he gets up to?’ Amber asked, knowing fine well it was probably a rhetorical question.

Debbie nodded. ‘I’m hardly innocence personified myself, chick. Maybe it’ll all change when we get married, I don’t know.’

‘Don’t you
want
it to change?’ Amber was quite fascinated now. In all her years being involved in the world of football she’d never really stopped to get to know any of the women who shared the lives of these famous, top-flight players. So, now that she was one of them – like it or not – maybe it was time to stop and listen. Time to make some friends and enter that inner circle. Although, the thought of it still made her shudder slightly.

‘I don’t know,’ Debbie said, looking straight into Amber’s eyes. ‘I really don’t know. We’re both so used to living our lives the way we do that getting used to something else might be really strange. Does that make sense?’

‘No. Not really,’ Amber frowned. ‘So, if you’re so used to
Gary
’s behaviour, why should I keep Ryan away from him?’

‘Because Ryan’s different,’ Debbie said. ‘When I was with him, I could see that a lot of what he did was nothing but a façade. Something to hide behind. Ryan is also desperate to be liked, Amber. He came into football so young; he was taken away from what he knew and thrown into this whole new life before he’d even left school and I think that meant he never really had the chance to make any real friends. His whole world was football, with no time to be a kid…’

‘Did he tell you this?’ Amber interrupted, wondering how this woman knew so much about him for somebody who’d only been with him for such a short time.

Debbie nodded again. ‘There were days when all he wanted to do was talk. Just sit and talk and get things off his chest, and that’s when I could see the real person behind that big-name footballer with an image that he felt he had to keep up. But he never
really
had to do that, did he? Because he had talent. And that should’ve been enough. But he wanted to be popular, thought it was all part of that image. So he’d throw himself into anything the rest of his team-mates did, and that’s when the trouble began, I suppose. When he started to become the person he is now.’

‘Do you… do you know anything else about him, Debbie? I mean, do you… how far…?’ Amber wanted to know if she knew about the gambling, the drugs, the time Ryan had spent in rehab, but how did you even begin to ask a question like that? Because, if she
didn’t
know, then asking that question would certainly mean she would now. Amber couldn’t risk that.

‘He’s just your typical footballer, Amber. But he doesn’t need to be. I’d really hoped that when he had that injury – y’know, the one that kept him out of action for months last season – I’d hoped that would have given him time to think about his life. Making the move up here was a good decision, but I’m not sure him becoming best friends with
Gary
was the best idea.’

Amber sussed from that that Debbie had no real idea of the truth behind Ryan’s behaviour; she had no idea of how deep his problems ran, and that’s the way it needed to stay. But one thing she
had
done was make sure that Amber tried even harder to keep Ryan away from that lifestyle that had almost destroyed him, once. He needed to realise that what had happened on Friday – the bars and the drinking and the staying out all night – that couldn’t continue. Not if he wanted his career to stay on track. He was only twenty-six. He still had plenty of playing days ahead of him yet.

‘Thanks, Debbie.’

Debbie smiled; a warm smile. A friendly smile. ‘You should come out with me and the girls sometime, Amber. We can have just as good a time as the boys can, believe me.’

Amber returned her smile, thinking what a surreal experience that had just been, but a very pleasant one. Surprisingly so.

‘Will you?’ Debbie asked. ‘Come out with us sometime, I mean. With me and the girls.’

‘Yeah,’ Amber replied, still smiling. ‘Yeah. I think I’d like that.’

‘Great,’ Debbie beamed, pulling Amber in for an unexpected hug.
 

They’d just exchanged phone numbers when Ronnie reappeared, looking at Amber with a surprised expression. ‘Erm, sorry, but, was that
you
exchanging phone numbers with Debbie Hogan? Queen of the North East WAGs?’

‘So?’ Amber asked, probably a touch too defensively.

Ronnie shrugged. ‘Nothing. It’s just that…
you
? A WAG?’

‘I’ve done it before,’ she said, looking at him.
 

‘Well, yeah. I suppose you have. You didn’t enjoy it, though.’

She smiled, standing on tiptoe to kiss him quickly on the cheek. ‘I enjoyed the other perks. Like being with you.’

‘Well, who can blame you there?’ Ronnie grinned.

‘Shouldn’t you
be
somewhere?’ she asked, still smiling at him. ‘You
are
working on this match, aren’t you? Are you commentating?’

‘No. I’m up in the studio, in front of the cameras. I’m one of the pundits.’

‘Oh, you’re on TV this afternoon? And you didn’t think to have a shave before you left the house?’

Ronnie felt his rough chin, his expression changing. ‘Shit! That’s because Anna said she liked me with a bit of stubble.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s enough information on that score, and I have to agree with her, actually. The rough-and-ready look suits you, but on TV you’re only going to look as though you couldn’t be arsed to get ready.’

‘Your honesty is one of your more attractive traits, Amber, I have to say. Right, well, I’d better get off then. See you later? For a post-match drink?’

‘Absolutely.’

*

Ryan sat with his hands clasped between his open knees, his head down, his brain working overtime as what felt like a million different feelings clashed like warring enemies inside his head, causing a blanket of confusion and a lack of concentration he could well do without.

Sometimes he hated this routine of getting to the ground so early – ninety minutes before kick-off was the norm, and today was no exception. That time was used to warm up in the small gym just off the dressing room, sort out any lingering injury problems with the physio; get their heads together. Something he was finding very hard to do today, of all days.

‘Everything alright, Ryan?’

He looked up at the sound of Jim Allen’s voice. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘I’m fine,’ Ryan repeated.

Jim sat down beside him, copying his stance and clasping his own hands between his open knees, staring straight ahead. ‘I need you focused, son. This is a big game for us and I really don’t intend to lose my winning streak just because
you
can’t control your love life.’

Ryan kept his eyes on his clasped hands as he spoke. ‘My love life is none of your business.’

‘Now, you see, I think it is, Ryan. I think it is, when it starts to affect you as a player.’

This time Ryan looked straight at his manager, their eyes locking in a silent battle that only one of them really knew was going on. ‘When it comes to me running out onto that pitch, boss… when it comes to me running out on that pitch there will be no other player out there more focused than me. I can assure you of that.’

Jim said nothing for a few seconds, just continued to stare into the eyes of his extremely talented, but at the same time incredibly mixed-up striker before standing back up, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked down at Ryan. ‘I hope you mean that.’

Or what?
Ryan wanted to ask, but Jim had left the dressing room before he’d had a chance to say anything else. Jesus! He could do with a hit right now. Just one quick hit. But that would be suicide, and he knew it. He needed something to take the edge off everything he was feeling, though.

‘You coming out with us tonight?’
Gary
asked, sitting down next to Ryan, pulling his red and white strip down over his head.

‘Jesus,
Gary
, don’t you ever just want a night in with Debbie? Like a normal couple?’

‘And you think
she’s
spending tonight in front of the TV with the ‘X Factor’ Results Show and a pot of tea? Huh? Far from it, mate. She’s got her own night out lined up so if she thinks I’m sitting in waiting for her to roll in at all hours she’s wrong. And anyway, there’s no training tomorrow, is there? No excuse for us not to have a late one tonight.’

Ryan sat back, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘I really want to spend some time with Amber, y’know?’

‘Has she busted your balls over Friday night yet?’

Ryan looked at him. ‘No. Not yet. She was okay when I saw her yesterday morning…’

‘Because she didn’t want you going into this match thinking she was annoyed with you?’

Ryan frowned. ‘She said she was fine about everything. I mean, she had a bit of a go, and I can’t blame her for that, but she seemed okay when I left for the hotel.’

‘Well, you can believe that if you want to, mate. If you’re really stupid. But I’m speaking from experience here, and she meant none of that, I can almost guarantee it. She’ll be ready and waiting to kick your arse from here to next weekend, believe me. I’ve been there. Once this match is over,
that’s
when the shit’ll hit the fan.’

Ryan sighed heavily, a headache beginning to thump away behind his eyes. ‘And replaying the events of Friday night is the best way to deal with that, is it?’

Gary
shrugged. ‘Look, we’ve got VIP tickets to that new bar opening up in the city centre. The place’ll be full of beautiful women all looking for a famous face to screw senseless. You gonna say no to that?’

Ryan sighed again, but said nothing.

‘You need some stress relief, don’t you?’
Gary
asked. ‘Something to make all the shit go away? Just for a little while?’

Ryan looked at
Gary
, still saying nothing.

‘No training in the morning, that’s practically carte blanch to do what the hell we like, mate. For as long as we like and as late as we like, now who’s gonna turn that down? It sure as hell beats going home to an argument with the missus, don’t you think?’

Ryan felt his resolve weakening. He needed to see Amber, but was that just for sex? Because he needed some of that, that was for sure. But he could get that anywhere, with anyone. It didn’t always matter what it felt like or how long it took, as long as he came and the release was there, he didn’t give a shit who he was fucking. As long as he was fucking
some
one. That’s the way his past had played out for so many years, and hadn’t he had the best time? As long as he kept things under some kind of control then there was no reason why that past couldn’t come out to play again. He could square things with Amber, he was sure of it. She’d understand. Eventually.

‘You in?’
Gary
asked, tightening the laces on his boots.

‘Yeah,’ Ryan smiled. ‘Yeah. I’m in.’

*

Amber watched the match from a seat in the main stand. She hadn’t wanted to see it from the comfort of a hospitality box, she wanted to experience it as the real fans saw it, with all the noise and the language and the jeers aimed at the rival supporters, which were always a touch more personal on a local derby day than any other match. This was how she’d been brought up with the game, and this had always been her favourite way to watch it.

For a small part of the second half she’d joined Ronnie up in the make-shift TV studio in the corner of the ground to watch some of the match, enjoying the banter between the TV presenter, himself an ex-footballer, and the other pundits – a manager of another Premiership team not playing that day, and a Wearside Spartans player who was injured and not able to take part in this particular match.

Amber found it so easy being in the company of men. So much easier than being around women, but that was just because she’d always been around this sport, these kinds of people. It was where she felt comfortable; it was her territory.

She looked on as Ryan scored two goals towards the end of the match after almost eighty minutes of deadlock in a game that was littered with dodgy tackles and more than a sprinkling of yellow cards. That was the way it always seemed to go on derby days. The referee always seemed to have a slightly tougher-than-usual job as he tried to calm certain players down because the heady atmosphere created by the fans could sometimes filter its way down onto the pitch, meaning that tensions ran higher than usual.

But with one goal in the eighty-fourth minute, and another in the first minute of injury time, Ryan ended the match the hero, deservedly winning the ‘Man of the Match’ award, and sending Tynebridge wild as the Red Star fans flaunted their victory in the faces of the downhearted Wearside Spartans supporters. Strike one to Red Star. But there was still the visit to Spartans’ ground next March that would see this fixture played out again, and who won the next round was anyone’s guess. Red Star had certainly looked the stronger side, though, and that was something Amber had mentioned in her post-match interview with Jim. The hardest interview she’d ever had to do, despite the fact it had lasted just seconds, as most post-match interviews did. Pretending nothing was going on was an uphill struggle she could never be sure she was managing to hide, and she was only thankful that she wasn’t visible on camera. Just Jim. And he was professionalism personified.