‘Do that too many times and your face’ll stay that way,’ Kevin smirked. ‘And then you won’t stand a chance of luring any players over for an interview, never mind the really famous ones.’
‘I’m sure I could do you for some kind of sexual harassment with that comment, Mr. Russell,’ Amber said in a mock-shocked tone.
‘Just get your arse out of here, now. Go on. And take him with you,’ Kevin smiled, indicating Ronnie. ‘Fancy a drink later, Ron? Usual place? Around eight-thirty?’
‘Sure. Make mine a pint. See you there.’
Amber glanced over at her best friend. He looked tanned and handsome with his messed-up, dark brown hair and hazel eyes; he also looked happier than she’d seen him in a long while. That long-overdue holiday to Majorca must have done him the world of good, and he’d needed it. The recent divorce from his wife, Karen – who’d left him for a big-name goalkeeper after seven years of marriage – had knocked him for six and Amber still wished she could have been there for him more than she had been.
‘Everything okay with you?’ she asked, linking her arm through his as they made their way to the underground car park.
‘If you mean am I getting over Karen, then yes. Slowly. I’ve stopped blaming myself, anyway.’
Amber squeezed his arm, stopping briefly to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘It never was your fault, Ronnie.’
He shrugged, sliding his arm round her waist and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe I just wasn’t there for her enough.’
‘That’s not an excuse to go shagging about though, is it? She knew what she was getting into when she married a footballer. I mean, that’s half the reason I steer well clear of relationships with you lot.’
They stepped into the lift and Ronnie leaned back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, a slight smile on his face. ‘That’s the reason, huh? You don’t like to be alone too much, is that it?’
Amber smiled back. ‘On the contrary. I love being alone.’
‘Bollocks! Come on, Amber. You’ve been on your own for far too long now. Isn’t it about time you found yourself a nice young man to share your life with?’
She looked at him out the corner of her eye as the lift finally reached the underground car park. ‘Who are you? My father? And, for your information, I don’t want a “nice young man” to share my life with.’
‘Whatever you say,’ Ronnie sighed, following her out into the strip-lit car park. ‘I just hope it wasn’t me who put you off relationships with footballers.’
Amber said nothing for a few seconds, continuing to walk with her head down before she fixed a smile on her face and turned to look at him. ‘You flatter yourself, Mr. White.’
They finally reached Amber’s car, Ronnie resting his arms on the roof of her pale blue Fiat 500 as he smiled at her. ‘So, what do you think of Ryan Fisher?’
‘Not much,’ Amber replied, climbing into the driver’s side, relieved he’d changed the subject.
‘He didn’t win you over with the famous Fisher charm, then?’ Ronnie slid into the passenger seat, immediately fiddling with the radio to try and find the sports station he occasionally did some work for.
‘No. He didn’t.’ Amber backed out of the parking space and drove slowly out into the late-August sunshine, sliding her sunglasses down over her eyes the second they hit daylight. ‘Has he always been such a cocky bastard?’
‘He’s always been extremely confident, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No. That’s not what I mean. There’s a difference between cocky and confident, and he was most definitely cocky. Almost as if he just expected me to fall at his over-insured feet. And the second it was evident that I wasn’t going to do that, his mood changed.’
‘Well, one thing I do know about Ryan Fisher is that he’s never had a problem getting the women. So, what happened? Did you knock him back?’ Ronnie grinned.
Amber briefly looked at him, smiling slightly. ‘No, I didn’t knock him back because he never asked me anything.’
‘Ryan Fisher doesn’t need to ask, Amber. He just gets. Whatever he wants, usually. That’s the way this game plays out these days, with players at his level.’
‘Did you always get what you wanted when you were playing?’
‘I already had what I wanted, didn’t I? I had Karen. I didn’t need to look anywhere else. I didn’t want to.’
Ronnie turned to look out of the window and Amber threw her head back for a second as they pulled up at traffic lights. ‘Ronnie, I’m sorry,’ she sighed.
‘It’s okay, really,’ he smiled. ‘I guess I’m still just a bit over-sensitive about everything, that’s all. Which is why I’m glad to be back here in the North East for a while. I get to come home, hang out with you, and forget about all that crap.’
Amber returned his smile, leaning over to quickly kiss his cheek again before the lights turned to green and she sped off out of the city centre towards Red Star’s training ground on the outskirts of town. ‘Having a good time sounds like a plan to me. It’s been ages since I’ve had a decent night out.’
‘That’s because you work too hard and never let yourself go,’ Ronnie said. ‘It’s not a crime to enjoy yourself, y’know.’
‘Yeah, thanks, I know that, Ronnie. But there aren’t all that many people around to have a good time with.’
‘Rubbish! You just hate letting your guard down. You hate letting people see beneath that ball-breaking exterior.’
Amber couldn’t help laughing. ‘Ball-breaking exterior?’
‘Yes,’ Ronnie laughed. ‘You’ve got a bit of a reputation, kiddo.’
‘Have I now,’ Amber remarked. ‘Well, we might have to do something about that, then.’
‘Is that a promise?’ Ronnie grinned as they pulled into the visitor’s car park at Red Star’s training ground.
‘Tell you what,’ Amber smiled, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. ‘Tell Kevin you’ve got other plans for tonight and I’ll show you that I can let myself go just as much as the next person. Alright?’
‘You’re on,’ Ronnie said. ‘So, Amber Sullivan, party girl, is coming out to play?’
Amber just smiled, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head as she turned away and started walking towards the entrance to the training ground. ‘I never said that. Come on. I’ve got work to do before I can even start thinking about having any kind of fun.’
But, all of a sudden, fun seemed like a really great idea. Especially if she was sharing that fun with Ronnie. Yeah. Maybe a night out was something she needed. After all, what harm could it do?
Ryan was having a good day. So far nothing was telling him that this move back to his native North East was one he was going to regret, but even if it was, he couldn’t go back. Anyway, wasn’t playing for the club you’d supported all your life a really big deal for a professional footballer? That hadn’t been the first thing on Ryan’s mind when he’d asked Max to find him a northern club, but he was secretly over-the-moon that Newcastle Red Star had wanted him so much they’d agreed to all the terms Max had put forward. His wages had increased significantly, they’d provided him with a fabulous, if not slightly-out-of-the-way, house to live in, and everyone was treating him like a returning hero. Everyone except that reporter from News North East. The one with the hard-faced attitude and the sexy-as-hell body. What a conundrum that posed. Despite the fact he’d been seriously unimpressed at her reaction towards him – being cold-shouldered wasn’t something he was used to – he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. More’s the pity. He’d never had to chase after a woman in his life and he wasn’t about to start now. It was pointless even trying with her, anyway. Pointless going after something that was only going to kick you in the balls, metaphorically speaking, of course. Why bother with all that shit when he had Ellen ready and waiting for him to just click his fingers whenever he wanted her? Not to mention all the potential conquests that would doubtless be lining up to meet the newest addition to North-East football when he hit the town later. Some of his team-mates were taking him into the city centre for a bit of a ‘welcome to the club’ night out, and even though it was a Wednesday, and probably not the kind of night that was going to throw up the biggest choice in women, Ryan was absolutely certain there wouldn’t be a shortage. It was almost as if these girls could sniff out a footballer at fifty paces, and before you knew it you were surrounded by a barrage of them all trying to ‘get to know you’. Ryan couldn’t fucking wait!
‘Okay you lot, back on the pitch, come on!’
Ryan pulled himself up off the ground, glugging back one last mouthful of water. He had no intention of ignoring Colin Bailey. The man was a legendary football coach who, along with Jim Allen, the charismatic, American-born ex-player-turned-manager, had joined the club in the hope that they could bring Newcastle Red Star the success that had eluded them for far too long. Bailey had a reputation as a stern but fair coach, and it was a reputation that had gained him the respect of any player who’d trained under him. But he could also put the fear of God into you if he thought you were slacking in any way. Ryan, however, intended to start as he meant to go on – getting on the good side of his new coach.
‘Over here, Fisher!’ Colin yelled in his tough Glaswegian accent. An accent that only solidified his no-nonsense attitude. ‘A quick kick-about to end the session, okay? But let’s not treat this like a piss around in the park, alright? I’m watching the lot of you. Especially you, Fisher. We need to know exactly what to do with you on Saturday.’
Ryan ran back out onto the pitch, ready to give not just the coach but also the gathering crowd of press and TV that had been allowed access into today’s training session something to really look at. Ryan Fisher was one of the greatest strikers out there right now, and he was in the process of showing them just what it was this club had paid millions for.
Fifteen minutes later and all he had to do was talk to a couple of journalists, give a handful of quick interviews to camera, and he was done for the day. But Ryan didn’t intend to waste the afternoon playing golf or spending money on some ridiculously overpriced shirt to wear tonight; he had enough of those already. No, he intended to give Ellen a ring, see if she could get away for an hour or so. He was going to spend the afternoon getting some practice in for his night on the town. Ellen was the warm-up act, but Ryan was definitely on the lookout for a different main performance.
‘You ready, then?’ Max asked, sauntering over to Ryan, his mobile phone attached firmly to his ear.
Ryan rubbed a towel along the back of his neck, looking over towards the throng of assorted journalists and reporters who were across the other side of the pitch talking to some of his teammates. ‘Yeah. I’m ready.’
‘Great. Hang on a second; I’ll just take this call. Don’t wander off, okay?’
