The Playbook

The only thing I learnt from my father was to put myself first and never seek approval from anyone ever again. I do what I want, when I want to, for my own reas

ons. Football might be a team sport, but I’m always going to put myself and my career first. If that loses me friends, then so be it. I’d rather that, than risk losing myself again.

“We have a press conference in an hour down at your new club and you’re going to stand alongside your new coach and captain and smile and pretend this is the best thing to happen to you.”

I grunt in response. Like I have a choice.

“The press conference starts at one. That's before two and after twelve. Not that you'd ever be early for anything in your life,” Serj barks down the phone.

"For your information, I was born two weeks early," I mutter down the phone. “It's always so nice to talk to you, too, Serj. And, yeah, I'm fine; thanks for asking.”

“Just don't be late, Jake," he sighs. I grin, because I can hear the panic taking over in his voice. I love winding the guy up. "I don't know how to make this any clearer. Screw this up and you'll struggle to get employment at McDonalds."

"Well I think that is an exaggeration," I reply. "I mean, have you seen some of the people they have working there? And you'd think hiring an ex-football star with a bad reputation to flip your burgers would be an awesome business move."

"Jake!"

“So what did you get me in the end then?” I say, changing the subject. I lie back down and wait for him to answer. I'm genuinely interested because the last thing I want is to have to tone down my lifestyle. But it's Crystal Hill. They're obviously not heavily investing in other players so that should leave a bigger budget for a player who actually knows what the fuck they're doing.

Like me. If anything, I should be seeing an increase.

“Fifty thousand a week.”

I sit bolt upright. Again.

“Serj! I was on seventy thousand! What the fuck happened?” I growl down the phone. A twenty-thousand-dollar-a-week pay cut? How the hell am I going to manage that? I can barely get by as it is.

“YOU happened Jake," Serj retorts. The sneer in his tone makes me want to drive over there and punch him in the fucking face. "You are the reason this shit is going down. You got transferred to a lower ranking club and you are the reason you are now down by twenty K a week. I am the only reason you’re not down by forty K a week, okay?” He sighs, the annoyance in his voice obvious, like he is about to break at any moment.

“Well, thanks then,” I say quietly. I can tell this isn't the time to be busting his chops, and I’m not stupid. I know he’s right. Whatever way you swing it, I had it good and I fucked it up. Story of my life.

“Just don't be late. Please. And bring your A game.” He hangs up.

I get to the Crystal Hill training ground at twelve thirty and spy Serj standing in the far back corner of the conference room. I raise my head in his direction in a gesture of hello. He notices me, reciprocates and walks over to me. My hands are shoved deep into my pockets as I avoid eye contact with anyone else but Serj. I don't want to be here, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual among the other players. I don’t even have to look at Murray to know he’s sneering at me.

“Call a fucking press conference, Jake Tanner is early for something." Serj chuckles as I narrow my eyes at him. "I'm impressed, you even wore a tie,” he adds, a smirk on his face.

“I'm bringing my A game like you said.”

To be totally honest, I'm feeling pretty apprehensive about this whole thing. Nobody likes being the new guy, especially when they've been dumped from their previous club. I’m expecting hell over the next few weeks, because if I were in my new teammates’ shoes, I’d be making it my mission to make the new guy quit within the first week. I wish I'd pulled my head in more. I wish I'd listened to Serj all those times he warned me I was pushing too far. But I didn’t, and now I have to make the best of a bad situation.

But none of that matters anymore. I'm determined to get through this the only way I know how. My way. I may feel like a scared little kid inside, but I'm not going to let on to anyone.

Serj waves at someone behind me. I turn and see a gorgeous blonde walking in our direction. She smiles, and my cock hardens almost instantly.

“Sorry darlin’, no autographs until after the show,” I say, winking at her. In my usual form, I assume it’s all about me. At least, I’m sure that’s what everyone thinks. The reality is, sometimes my cockiness is just a cover for my anxieties. Serj snorts next to me, and I shoot him a glare, annoyed at him for ruining my game. He shrugs, his eyes laughing and he gestures for me to continue. I smirk. Who knows. Maybe he’ll learn a thing or two. I turn my attention back to my distraction from reality just in time to see her roll her eyes.

“Mr. Tanner." Her tone is cool as she arches her eyebrow, her heel clicking against the floor impatiently. "If you can please follow me I will show you to your seat.” Even unimpressed, her voice is like silk and it sends a shiver right down my cock.

I follow her like a dog in heat, undressing her in my head. She says something to a passing cameraman and flashes him a smile, all the while I imagine those lips wrapped around my dick. I bet she could take it all in. And trust me when I say that's no easy feat.

“Here is your seat Mr. Tanner," she says, directing me onto the small stage. "Will there be anything else you require? Her eyes lock onto mine and she raises an eyebrow, which I, of course, take as an invitation.

I lean closer to her so that my lips are millimeters from hers. My fingers run along the edge of her face as I whisper into her ear, “Not right now, but if you come by my place later I'll show you what else I require.”

I slip a piece of paper into her pocket with my number on it, sliding my finger out slowly. Her face flushes with color and just like that her cool, I-don't-give-a-shit exterior is blown.

Just like she'll be doing to me later.