Striker (80 page)

‘That’s why you married me,’ Amber smiled, unfastening his belt. ‘Come on. We haven’t got much time before they start looking for you.’

He turned her round and lifted her up onto his desk, pulling down her jeans and sliding her underwear off, throwing it aside. With one swift movement he’d spread her legs and pushed inside her, causing Amber to moan out loud before slapping a hand over her own mouth, realising that making too much noise would only draw unwanted attention they didn’t need. They wanted to be left alone for just a few more minutes and, after all, she was doing this for the good of the club, wasn’t she? A calm Jim Allen meant he’d go out there and make sure those lads played to the best of their ability before her handsome husband brought home the rewards this club deserved.

Placing her hands palm down on the desk behind her, Amber arched her back, pushing against him as he thrust deeper into her, his face buried in her shoulder to muffle his own groans. He was once again filling her up with every inch of him, taking her over, making her crazy for those few, beautiful minutes he was inside of her. This man had been her dream, her fantasy for over twenty years and now he was a reality she never wanted to let go of. History was not going to repeat itself, not this time. Not ever. And she’d do her utmost to make sure of that.

*

‘You look a bit flushed,’ Ronnie said, looking at Amber out the corner of his eye as she joined him in the hospitality box where a group of them were watching the game. Even though she’d much rather have been watching it down in the stands with the real fans. ‘You alright?’

‘Of course I’m alright. Where’s Karen?’

‘She’s over there.’ He indicated to the other side of the box, where Karen was deep in conversation with Debbie. ‘Wedding talk.’

Amber smiled. ‘You nervous? About going for it a second time?’

He shook his head, taking a long sip of lager. ‘I’m actually quite excited about it. We’ve experienced the pitfalls, made the mistakes, so maybe this time we’ll get it right.’

‘I really hope so, Ronnie. You deserve to be happy.’

He looked at her, and for a couple of seconds neither of them said anything. ‘I’m happy, kiddo,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m happy.’

She smiled again, looking over at her dad who was talking to another ex-Red Star player whom Ronnie worked with on a regular basis in his TV work. ‘It’s all coming together, isn’t it? For everybody. You and Karen getting married next month, then Debbie and
Gary
in July…’ She broke off mid-sentence as the stadium erupted behind her and she swung round to see the Red Star squad run out onto the pitch. Jim walked slowly out of the tunnel after them, looking relaxed and calm with his suit jacket off and his white shirt-sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets, aviator shades covering his eyes as the sun continued to beat down on a taut and expectant Tynebridge. Even from a distance he could make her heart skip and her stomach somersault an infinite number of times.

‘Honeymoon period still alive and kicking, then?’ Ronnie asked, rubbing the small of her back in an almost absent-minded action.

She turned back to face him. ‘Yeah. It is.’ Just the word “honeymoon”
 
made her stomach flip over again as she thought about the belated one she and Jim had yet to take in a couple of weeks, when the present season came to an end and the summer break loomed large. Jim hadn’t told her where they were going yet – it was a surprise. But wherever it was, she couldn’t wait to get there, to finally have her man all to herself for a blissful few days. She knew they’d probably have paparazzi trying to capture their every move but she didn’t care anymore. If these past few months had taught her anything it was that there are some things you just can’t fight.

‘It’s all gonna be okay,’ she said quietly, looking back outside as the squad warmed up on the pitch, Jim standing in front of the dugout, issuing orders, waving his arms about to gain players’ attention. ‘Finally. It’s all gonna be okay.’

*

Ryan turned his head and kissed the captain’s armband that took pride of place on his upper left arm as the crowd went wild. If Tynebridge had had a roof it would have lifted off by now with the sheer noise that reverberated around the stadium. Newcastle Red Star were Premier League Champions, top of the tree, the best of the best. They’d finished the season at the very top of their game, as had he. He couldn’t deny the past few months had been shaky, to say the least, before descending into a darkness he didn’t ever want to experience again. But he’d come through the other side a stronger, tougher man. More determined than ever to concentrate on his game and become the footballer he’d always dreamed of being because, until now, he’d only ever really been half that man.

His month-long stint in a rehab clinic in the West Country had been hard, because, in the beginning he hadn’t really accepted that he needed the help they were offering him. But one day something had just clicked, a voice inside his head telling him to get a grip or he was going to lose it all, and if Ryan Fisher was one thing it was a fighter. So he’d fought – the addictions, the depression, he’d fought it all. And he’d finally won, arriving back at Tynebridge a player to be reckoned with. He had a lot to thank the club for. They’d stood by him, supported him, gave him anything and everything he’d needed to get back on track and back out on that pitch. Especially Jim Allen. Was that because of Amber? Maybe. Did it matter? No. He was back, and
that
was all that really mattered.

He couldn’t lie and say that it had been easy, coming back to a club where the main topic of conversation was his boss’s secret wedding to Amber, but he was able to deal with things in a way he hadn’t been able to before. This time he didn’t feel the need to forget by drinking himself into oblivion or picking up the first woman who threw themselves at him for a meaningless fuck that he hoped would wipe away things he didn’t want to think about, things he was too weak or too frightened to face up to. He wasn’t saying he was a saint, far from it. He’d just grown up a bit, learnt to control his life in a more adult fashion.

And now he was experiencing the very thing playing this game was all about – that incredible buzz, that overwhelming feeling of achievement players got from knowing they’d just taken their club to the highest level. He could have lost this. He
could
have. But he hadn’t. He was here, wearing the captain’s armband, and that spoke volumes as to how this club felt about him. He owed them, big time. And next season he’d show them the kind of player he could
really
be.

‘What a fucking day, man,’ Gary said, running over to Ryan and jumping on his back, giving him the kind of manly, celebratory hug players gave each other in situations such as this. ‘You played a blinder out there. Four frigging goals, Jesus, you were on fire!’

Ryan shrugged him off before grabbing him round the neck and pulling him in for another of those manly hugs. ‘It’s what I do, mate. Ryan Fisher, goal machine.’

‘And so humble with it.’

Ryan grinned, letting go of Gary, looking over at the rest of his team-mates as they ran around the pitch in a lap of honour, although it was about the tenth time round for most of them. Nobody really wanted a day like this to end. This was the kind of high that everybody loved, the kind of high that players craved; the only kind of high Ryan needed now.

He looked over at the dugout. Even Colin was grinning away, that was how good a day this was. Their coach rarely cracked a smile most days so to see him looking positively gleeful was an experience. But he couldn’t stop his stomach from taking a dip he couldn’t avoid as he saw Amber run out of the tunnel, flinging herself at her new husband – his boss. He watched as Jim caught her in his arms, swinging her up and around, both of them laughing until he put her back down. He watched as Jim kissed her, a kiss that Ryan didn’t really want to watch but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one to notice it as wolf-whistles and cheers emanated loudly from certain parts of the stadium. It was difficult to watch, because nobody had said forgetting her would be easy. Or was it forgetting what they could have had that was the difficult part? He wasn’t sure. He just knew that she looked happy, and that made him happy, too. She never really had deserved someone like him. Not the way he had been, anyway.

‘Looking forward to the party tonight, then?’
Gary
’s voice broke into Ryan’s thoughts and he turned to look at his friend.

‘Yeah. Yeah, of course I am. We’ve got shit-loads to celebrate, after all. It’s gonna be a blinder of a night.’

‘You got that right,’
Gary
grinned, following Ryan’s gaze as he looked back over at Amber and Jim. ‘You okay, mate?’

Ryan smiled, grabbing
Gary
again as they ran towards the tunnel, ready for the onslaught of post-match interviews that awaited them. And, boy, was he ready for them! He was on top of the world, and he wanted the world to know that.

And then he saw her. Ellen. The beautiful Ellen, the first girl he’d bedded on his arrival here in the North East. Little, timid, PR girl Ellen – until he’d got her into bed, that is, and then a wild side you wouldn’t know existed to look at her had been unleashed. And he’d never called her back? Never tried to have another go and see just how far he could
really
push her? Jesus! She worked here, and yet he’d never made an attempt to go there again? Still, no time like the present. ‘I’m fine, mate,’ Ryan replied, his attention now focused solely on making sure Ellen noticed him. ‘I’m just fine.’

Her eyes finally met his and she smiled at him. A smile that carried more than a simple
‘hello, it’s been a while’,
and Ryan got the message loud and clear. She bore no grudges. She seemed quite happy to rekindle whatever it was they’d enjoyed all those months ago when he’d arrived at Tynebridge the new boy with a hell of a lot to learn. Quiet little Ellen, in her smart skirt and blouse, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail – she promised everything and more that Ryan had been missing lately.

He grinned at her, walking backwards down the tunnel so he could keep eye contact as long as possible, make sure she got a message back that she understood. Oh yes. This day was just getting better, leaving him with no doubt in his mind now – Ryan Fisher was back!

The End.

*A follow-up to ‘Striker’ is scheduled for release late 2013/early 2014.*

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