Obsession, p.21
Obsession, page 21
Fred shook his head with disappointment. ‘You didn’t read the whole article, did you? That’s your problem. You never follow through.’
Jake gritted his teeth rather than bite back. Fred pulled a pair of thin-rimmed glasses from his shirt pocket and propped them on the end of his nose as he scrolled the article.
‘Inter manager claims he’s had no contact with Grayson. And that he won’t be making any contact during this transfer window. According to Cio… Ciolutti, or whatever he’s called, Grayson is not the type of player Inter are looking for. And this next bit is a direct quote from him. I admire the skill of the player, but he has a reputation for off-field problems. We’re looking for world-class players who can elevate this team. We won’t take risks.’
Fred took the glasses off, lowered the phone and sent a ferocious glower to Jake.
‘That’s what you are, Jake. A risk. An increasingly washed-up risk.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘You’re not increasing your worth doing this crap, you’re causing it to crash down around you.’
‘Yeah, and that’s all you care about, isn’t it?’
Fred frowned, as though offended. ‘You know that’s not true. Who’s always there to pick up the pieces?’
But Jake didn’t buy it. Fred wasn’t a friend. Not really.
‘You’re coming back with me today,’ Fred said. ‘We’ll go and see Hugo. We’ll get this straightened out so you still have a career when the season starts.’
‘No,’ Jake said.
‘No what?’
‘I’m not going back home with you.’
‘Jake don’t push me–’
‘I don’t want you to represent me anymore. I don’t need you.’
Fred looked like he was chewing a mouthful of wasps. ‘You really don’t have a clue, do you?’ he said.
‘Maybe not. But it’s my life, not yours. Agents? You’re leeches. No. You’re vultures. Once word gets out that you’re gone, they’ll all be circling around me. I don’t need you. You’re no better than any of the others.’
Fred got to his feet shaking his head. A little nonchalantly, Jake thought, like he still felt he was winning.
‘So we’re done?’ Fred said. ‘You don’t want my representation anymore. My friendship? My mentoring?’
‘You should have stopped at the first of those. The last two are bullshit.’
Fred said nothing.
‘To answer your question,’ Jake said, ‘yes we’re done. Please fuck off out of my life.’
Fred brushed down his clothes. ‘You won’t be changing your mind?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Okay then.’ He held Jake’s eye a moment. A sneer come smile spread up his face. ‘Don’t forget about the termination clause in our agreement though.’
‘What clause?’
‘The one that says that if you request termination, I still get my fair dues of any future transfer. It was my hard work that got you where you are today.’
Did he really believe that?
‘Good luck finding a decent agent willing to have their slice cut in half,’ Fred added.
Jake wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. He balled his fists in anger. Felt about ready to explode. Not just because of what Fred had said, but more because of the snide, taunting way in which he said it.
‘Or I could just quit football now,’ Jake said, ‘and you get nothing more from me and my career, you fucking snake.’
‘Your choice, Jake. But… that’s not going to happen, is it? You’re too weak to make such a big decision like that.’
Fred, still smirking, walked past Jake and to the door.
‘Oh, and don’t worry,’ he called out. ‘When you come crawling back to say sorry because your career is on the brink of failure, I probably will accept your apology. As long as it’s accompanied by a sizeable increase in my fee. See you later, Ace.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
PETE
The hangover wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Not as bad as Tom and John and Kenny’s likely were. Midday and they still hadn’t surfaced.
By that point Pete had been by the pool for well over an hour, reading and people-watching. Or, more specifically, he’d been watching for someone. Actually two people, if you counted Jake Grayson. Pete was intrigued by the star being in the same hotel as him. He’d never rubbed shoulders with a celebrity before. If he’d been younger himself he would have tried to get an autograph, but a guy in his forties, on his own, pestering a footballer for their signature? That just seemed weird to him.
Anyway, Jake Grayson was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’d gone home already to start training for the new season.
And it wasn’t really Grayson that Pete was keeping an eye out for. Mainly he was looking for Amy. But, like the football star, he had no clue where she was, nor her husband and their friends.
Phone ringing. And he’d not put it on silent. At least it wasn’t too loud, and it was literally just a ringing sound rather than some hideous racket. Still, a few accusatory eyes turned his way before he answered and he knew his cheeks were burning red, and it wasn’t all to do with the heat of the day.
Beth’s name flashed on the screen. He knew this wouldn’t be good news. She never called for a chat. He could ignore her, but then… what if there was an actual problem?
‘Oh, so you are alive then?’ she said, not sounding particularly happy by that.
‘Yes. I’m alive.’
‘Then why haven’t you answered my texts?’
‘I didn’t see them.’
Actually, he’d seen them come through, just hadn’t bothered reading them.
‘I can’t believe you thought that was a good idea. Have you any idea the trouble you’ve caused?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Don’t play dumb, Pete. That crap you were telling Eve. She showed me the messages.’
He sunk a little. But then, he kind of guessed that Beth would look at Eve’s phone whenever she got the chance. She was so bloody controlling of their daughter. Mainly because she wanted to mould the youngster exactly in her image in every way. And make sure she had none of her dad’s personality at all.
‘I was trying to help,’ he said. ‘She came to me for advice.’
‘Help? Jesus, Pete, she’s an eleven-year-old girl. What bloody part of you thought your insights would be valid?’
‘She’s my daughter!’
‘And look what you’ve done!’
‘Done what!’
Those same eyes were back on him from the rich twats around him. Whatever. They’d probably enjoy the drama, like watching an episode of Eastenders or something.
Beth grumbled and cursed, though it wasn’t clear what she said, as though she was holding the phone away from her mouth. Then the sound of her voice became more clear again.
‘You told her, if you really like him, go for it. Don’t let others pressure you. If they’re your real friends they’ll stick by you.’
She even put on a mocking voice as she read out loud. Pete balled his fist.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ he said.
‘Well I’m not finished, am I? You then told her, if Maisie can’t get over it, that’s her problem. You don’t need friends like that.’
She paused, as though she expected him to say something.
‘And that’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Pete, you’ve got no clue! I was trying to extinguish this situation. Now she’s created a bloody WhatsApp group called We Hate Maisie. It’s a pile-on. And someone screen-shotted all the abuse on there. To send to Maisie. The kid was in tears. I’ve been on the phone to her mum. Beth’s locked herself in her room.’
Pete held his head in his hands. Okay, so he hadn’t expected that. He’d thought he was giving sensible, kind advice to his daughter. What had she done? He hadn’t told her to do any of that.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Let me speak to her.’
‘No,’ Beth said. ‘You’ve done enough damage. Even from hundreds of miles away.’
‘Beth, come on–’
‘And you won’t be texting her either. I’ve taken her phone off her. Two weeks.’
‘Come on, seriously–’
‘Yes. Seriously. You’ll see her at the weekend when you’re back. Hopefully I’ve smoothed out this mess by then.’
‘Beth–’
‘Enjoy your stupid holiday.’
The call ended.
‘What time did you slink off last night?’ John asked as the foursome strolled along by the water’s edge.
‘Just after midnight, I think,’ Pete said, well aware that it had actually been a good hour before that.
‘Such a lightweight,’ Kenny said.
‘No idea what time we got back,’ Tom added.
‘After three,’ Pete said. ‘You weren’t exactly subtle.’
Tom smirked. The other two raised an eyebrow.
‘You were banging and crashing everywhere,’ Pete said. ‘Then you tried to snuggle with me. Think you wanted to spoon.’
Kenny and John burst out laughing. The look on Tom’s face…
‘You called me sugar tits and everything.’
‘Piss off did I.’
‘Is that what you call your missus?’ John asked.
‘I never said that,’ Tom said, genuinely offended, but the other three couldn’t have cared less.
‘Okay, maybe not the last part,’ Pete admitted.
‘You missed a good night, anyway,’ Tom said, as though struggling to find a better deflection.
‘You certainly did, Pete,’ Kenny said. ‘Some of the women in there… even you wouldn’t have had a problem.’
Pete grimaced and shook his head. He stopped walking. The other three did too. They looked at him curiously.
‘You know what?’ he said. John shrugged. The other two did nothing. ‘Can you all just lay off now with this.’
No reaction from any of them to that, which for some reason riled Pete further.
‘I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I don’t want you lot trying to force me onto women who’ve got no interest, who’ve come out here for a relaxing holiday, not to have sex with random guys. And I’m not interested in having sex with random women. That’s not what I need. Let’s stop acting like kids and just enjoy ourselves.’
Silence. John and Tom looked confused. Kenny looked a little bit angry.
‘We are trying to enjoy ourselves,’ Kenny said. ‘It’s you that’s the miserable bastard.’
‘You know what, forget it.’ Pete turned and moved off. He heard the others muttering behind him.
‘Pete,’ Tom called.
Pete stopped and faced them.
‘We get it,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll lay off. We were only trying to help.’
‘It’s fine. Forget it.’
No one said anything. Kenny looked pretty pissed off still. What was his problem?
Pete sighed. He just wanted to get off the subject now that he’d made his point. Starting an argument wasn’t his intention. ‘Where are we going anyway?’
‘To find this guy we met last night,’ Kenny said. ‘He reckons he can sort us out with some gear.’
Pete didn’t say anything. He knew what that meant. Kenny’s agitation remained. Perhaps because of the unimpressed look on Pete’s face.
‘It’s only a bit of weed, Pete.’
Pete shrugged. ‘Do what you want.’
A silent stand-off.
‘Come on, it’s this way,’ Tom said, moving off.
They all carried on, Pete feeling even more isolated from the others than before. It wasn’t as though he’d never taken weed before, but certainly not regularly, and not for years. He’d experimented one time only with ecstasy, when he was nineteen, and it hadn’t been his favourite experience. One never repeated. None of his friends were hard drug users, at least as far as he was aware, but the fact that they even felt it necessary on this holiday irritated Pete. This was a free getaway to one of the most exclusive hotels on the Continent. Certainly the most exclusive and expensive that any of them could ever afford. Yet they were acting like lowlifes. Getting blind drunk, harassing women wherever they went, now drugs?
‘He lives in this one,’ Kenny said, looking up at the apartment block.
As they’d approached, Pete wondered whether they were actually going to the adjacent block, the one where the woman he’d watched so keenly the night before lived. Would he able to find her apartment if he got inside the building?
Probably, but why on earth would he do that?
‘So?’ Tom said to Kenny as the four of them stood looking a little lost. ‘Are we all going up or what?’
‘We’ll all go,’ John said. ‘Just in case.’
Pete sensed his friends’ unease. Kenny went to move off but Pete held him back when the door to the apartment building opened.
‘Wait,’ he said.
They did. Three men exited the building. Young men. They looked like locals, but like they were trying to be gangsters too. Flashy gear. Big white trainers. Baggy tracksuits. Chunky jewellery.
‘Straight outta Compton,’ John whispered.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Tom said, digging an elbow in John’s ribs to shut him up.
Pete could understand the flippant comment, though. The guys were hardly discreet, hardly subtle, hardly dressed sensibly for thirty-odd degree weather. The way they swaggered showed they thought they owned the world. Whether they were the real deal or just three young men with a bit too much money and who’d watched too many rap videos, Pete didn’t know.
They didn’t move off, simply hung around outside, smoking and joking.
‘Come on,’ Kenny said. He made a beeline for the entrance. The others followed. Pete kept one eye on the three. The shortest of them, with a long, thin face, like a rodent, glared over. Pete looked away.
Kenny pressed the intercom.
A raspy voice answered after a few seconds. Accented English.
‘Yeah, it’s Kenny. From the club. You said you’d sort us out.’
A pause. No answer. The three other men all stared now, but with mocking rather than angry looks on their faces. One of them moved off out of sight.
‘Hello?’ Kenny said.
‘Okay. Yeah. Come up. Just you.’
The door buzzed unlocked. Kenny held the door open and turned back to the others.
‘Are you sure about this?’ John asked.
‘Look where we are,’ Tom said. ‘It’s not exactly the backstreets of the Bronx, is it? He’ll be fine.’
A raucous car engine caught Pete’s attention. He glanced behind to the two guys across the way and saw a big Mercedes SUV roar up to them, thumping bass music vibrating the car’s body.
The driver’s window glided down. It was the friend of the two guys. He stared over, a satisfied smirk on his face, clearly enjoying showing off his motor.
His friends jumped into the car before the driver yelled out to Pete and his friends. Pete didn’t understand a word, though it was clearly a taunt. The car shot off, the exhaust so loud it made Pete’s insides curdle.
‘What did he say?’ Tom asked.
‘My Spanish isn’t very good,’ John said, ‘but something about your mum.’
‘Very funny.’
‘I wasn’t joking.’
‘They were calling us losers,’ Kenny said. ‘Laughing at our clothes.’
So he spoke Spanish now?
‘I’ll smack them if I see them again,’ John responded, fists balled, face screwed up.
‘No you wouldn’t,’ Tom said, deadpan.
‘Guys?’ Kenny prompted, still holding the door.
‘I’ll go up with you,’ Pete said.
‘Okay. Don’t get into any trouble,’ Kenny said to John and Tom.
The inside of the building was as plush as Pete expected. They headed up the stairs rather than the lift. The top floor had only three doors off the corridor, the apartments beyond obviously massive. And expensive.
‘Next one,’ Kenny said as they passed the first closed door.
A few steps further and Pete heard that door unlock and he looked over his shoulder to see a man step out. A big guy. Stern look. He stood in the corridor, arms folded. Like a nightclub bouncer.
No. Not like a nightclub bouncer. Like a bloody enforcer for a drug dealer.
Pete gulped. What the hell were they doing here? ‘Mate, we could just leave,’ he said.
‘You can if you want,’ Kenny responded, and kept walking.
They reached the door. Kenny knocked. No answer. Pete looked back along the corridor. The enforcer remained. No way out of the building except past him, as far as Pete could tell.
Kenny knocked again and finally the door opened. Pete was shocked, then a little angered, by the guy he saw there. Young. Scrawny. Wispy long hair. Entitled. In a way he’d rather have seen someone big and scary, even if that made no real sense.
‘You’re Wes?’ Kenny asked.
‘I told you to come up alone,’ Wes said, setting his beady eyes on Pete. As unassuming, even weedy as he looked, Wes certainly packed a punch of arrogance, Pete realised.
‘You stay outside,’ Wes said to Pete who still said nothing.
Kenny glanced back and Pete shrugged. Then Kenny stepped in. Pete did as much as he could to look inside the apartment before the door closed. A big place, that was for sure. Minimalist furniture that probably cost a fortune. Empty bottles of beer and spirits. A party the night before, or was Wes just as filthy as he was wealthy?
Pete looked back along the corridor. The enforcer glared at him. He heard noise from within the apartment. Raised voices. Kenny? Angry? The guy along the corridor had heard too. He took a step toward Pete. Then another. Pete gulped and edged closer to the apartment door, as though there was safety the other side.
His phone. He had his phone. He could call the police if that guy made a move.
And say what? He and his friend had got into trouble trying to buy drugs? Pete’s heart nearly bounced out of his throat when the apartment door suddenly opened.
