Lucky Page 8

  That wasn’t unusual when it came to Lucky, but it bothered me almost as much as the kiss my lips refused to forget. My days became predictable: wake up, think about Lucky. Get up, think about Lucky. Training and preparing for a big game gave me some respite, but then it would be time to go to bed and dream about Lucky.

  I was obsessed, even more so than before. I fucking ached for him. So why don’t you call him? Take him out again? Or stay in—

  “Oi, cockhead!”

  A ball smashed into my ribs, knocking me off balance. I turned to rip into whoever had hoofed it my way, but found myself face-to-face with Micah Roberts, the only player—Maldano aside—I regularly came across who didn’t make me want to sit on a spiked dildo more than talk to them.

  He was still a bit of a dick, though, so I punched his arm hard enough to really fucking hurt.

  “Hey!” He rubbed his bicep. “No need for that, mate.”

  “Right. What do you want? I thought your club wasn’t getting in till later?”

  “I drove in. Wanted to get here early in case Isha was around.”

  “What do you want with Isha? Something up with you and that helmet from GMC Management?”

  Micah rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Is there anyone you don’t hate?”

  A dozen Lucky puns danced through my mind, but I ignored them and took a seat on a nearby bench, tipping some foul performance drink down my throat. “I hate everyone with good reason—you’re all arseholes. Now tell me what you want with my agent.”

  Micah swiped a bottle from the basket and pulled the same face as me as he sampled the contents. “Man, you’d think with all this dosh floating around they’d manage to make this shit taste right.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. Micah wasn’t usually evasive, but I didn’t see him often enough to know what was going on in his life, and I didn’t keep up with industry gossip. “Seriously, man…what the fuck? You looking to switch up, or what?”

  “I’m looking for a favour, actually.” Micah dropped down beside me. “I heard Isha had a mole at one of the rags and I need to get a story killed.”

  “What story?”

  “It don’t matter what, I just need it gone.”

  The already sickly sports drink turned to acid in my belly. “What makes you think Isha can help you with that?”

  Micah didn’t look at me, apparently engrossed with de-labelling his bottle. “Everyone knows it,” he said. “It’s why you only ever get hook-up stories with supermodels while the rest of us get lumped in with the reality show nut jobs.”

  “Isha doesn’t plant those stories.”

  “Of course he does…unless they’re true, which I don’t believe for a fucking second. You don’t go out—you barely socialise with your own team. How the hell are you winding up at all these showbiz parties without anyone who actually knows you ever seeing you there?”

  He had a point, but not one I wanted to concede, especially while my mind raced through every inch of tabloid space I’d ever found myself occupying. How on earth would Isha have that much clout? How would anyone?

  I ran out of time to brood on it. Micah disappeared without gifting any more information, and I drifted back to the dressing room to get ready for the evening game. My brain switched to autopilot, like it always did on match days. Even Lucky left my mind, though the dull ache in my chest remained.

  Isha found me in the dressing room after the match. “Good game, mate.”

  I nodded curtly. “Micah Roberts find you?”

  “What?”

  “He was looking for you this afternoon.” I kicked my boots off, sending clumps of mud flying across the already filthy floor—immediately post-match was the only time top-flight football bore any resemblance to Sunday mornings at the local park. “Said he needed an in with your mole at the rags.”

  I started to get up.

  Isha’s hand on my shoulder forced me back down. “Dom.”

  My heart sank. To an outsider, we probably looked like we were having a friendly chat, but Isha’s reaction had given him away in one syllable. No denial, horror, or amusement. Just my name uttered in a tone that let me know he needed me to shut the fuck up. “How long?”

  “What?”

  “How long?”

  “Dom—”

  “Piss off.” I squirmed free of his grasp and stormed away to shower, hoping he’d be gone when I got back.

  No such luck, but I’d lingered long enough under the hot spray for the dressing room to be deserted.

  “Come for a drink,” Isha said. “Please, Dom. I can explain.”

  I ignored him and stuffed my personal kit into my bag. His explanations meant nothing to me. He was my friend and he’d lied to me for fuck knew how long. Lied to everyone about me. There was nothing he could say to make that right, and I was damn good at shutting people out who’d screwed me over. In this world, there were many.

  “Dom.”

  “Stop saying my name.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Do me a favour and pass me on to an agent who won’t fuck me, yeah?”

  Isha laughed. Anyone else, I’d have chinned them and walked away, but something in that dark chuckle was off enough for me to turn back and look at him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Isha shrugged, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing’s funny, mate. I just think it’s ironic that you’re worried about me fucking you, when all this time I’ve been busting my arse trying to stop the opposite.”

  “What?”

  Isha’s gaze levelled out. “Come on, Dom. If you know as much as I think you do, then you must know why I went to such lengths to control the press narrative, especially with you.”

  My blood ran cold. “The fuck are you talking about?”

  “Nothing that you want to talk about here, am I right?”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  Lucky

  “Are you pissed off that I won’t fuck you?”

  Jamila rolled over and looked at me, her gaze amused. “Of course not. Though I don’t get why you won’t. You’re frustrated, and I’m lonely while Meg’s deployed. She doesn’t mind us screwing around, and your mystery man doesn’t even know you’re alive.”

  I scowled at her. “He knows I’m alive.”

  “Yeah? So why hasn’t he called, huh? Why are you taking up space in my bed instead of his?”

  There were many reasons why I slept with Jamila, and I loved her so fucking much, but hooking up with her while we were both bored and hard up was starting to mess with my head. I imagined myself glancing down while she was blowing me and seeing Dom’s face. In an instant, I’d be somewhere else entirely. Her soft skin would become his stubbled jaw, and I’d shoot in her mouth with his name on my lips.

  I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that Jamila hadn’t done the same when I’d got her off in the past. Didn’t stroke my hair and see Meg, but that didn’t make it right. Or healthy. And Jesus, I didn’t need any more bad habits.

  Sighing, I reached for Jamila. “Don’t make this shitty, babe. You deserve better than this.”

  Jamila pulled me into a tight hug, and then settled down to sleep. “We both do, Lucky.”

  She was out like a light, and I watched her for a while, jealous of her ability to fall asleep so easily. I’d grown so used to watching my back at night that it was too hard, even with her, to switch off. The only time I slept well was when I was truly alone and somewhere safe, and the two rarely coincided.

  Tick tock tick tock.

  That damn fucking clock.

  Smirking at my deadbeat poetry, I rolled over and retrieved my phone from the bedside table. It was still on silent from when I’d been at work, so I hadn’t heard the message come through.

  Perignon55: u there?

  My heart skipped a beat. The message had been sent three hours ago, and it was the early hours of the morning now. Fuck’s sake. I’d been waiting on Dom all damn week, and now I’d missed him because I was messing around with someone el
se. Twat.

  Too twitchy to even think about sleep now, I slid carefully out of Jamila’s bed, and retrieved my dwindling bag of weed from under her bed. Outside, I turned my back on the biting wind, and rolled a spindly jazz fag. I lit up and blew smoke to the moon, and then went back to staring at Dom’s message. What the fuck did I say to that? No, I wasn’t, but I’m here now. Like it meant something. For all I knew, he’d been after nothing more than a quick shag—but he’s not like that, remember?

  I did remember. I remembered him kissing the hell out of me, and the dejection in him when I’d called time on being with the only man who’d ever touched me like I mattered.

  Damn. How was this even my life?

  Lucky: i’m here

  I was convinced he wouldn’t respond, that he’d be tucked up in bed in his mansion or whatever, but my phone flashed almost immediately.

  Perignon55: i need you

  That was a new one. I swallowed thickly and took a deep enough drag on my joint to make me cough.

  Lucky: why?

  Perignon55: just do

  Lucky: yeah, but why me?

  Perignon55: never mind x

  Was he drunk? He’d never punctuated a text with a kiss before, and the sensation that something wasn’t right needled me. I finished my smoke, but I didn’t go back inside. My thumb hovered over the call button. Would he even answer? What the fuck would I say?

  Screw it. I called. Rustling came down the line, and then Dom’s gravelly voice, scratchy, and hoarse.

  “’Lo?”

  “You sound like I woke you up, but I know that’s not true unless you were texting me in your sleep.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I was.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “So?”

  “So…you said you needed me, and here I am.”

  Silence. Anyone else and I might’ve hung up, but I’d been around Dom enough to picture him frowning and measuring his words as he gauged how much he could trust me.

  So I waited, lighting a plain old cigarette for something to do.

  “Something happened today.”

  I exhaled. “Something good?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. How bad was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You gonna give me more than that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I sucked back another drag. “Fair enough. How about I guess and you let me know if I’m on the right track?”

  Dom snorted.

  I took it as my cue to continue. “Did someone die?”

  “No.”

  “Did you lose your job?”

  “I wish.”

  “Really?”

  “Some days, then I wouldn’t be so fucking scared.”

  Bingo. So it was his job that kept him closeted. “Something happened at work?”

  “Yeah. Someone I thought I trusted knows too much…knows about me.”

  “He’s going to fuck you over?”

  Dom sighed. “I don’t know. He says not, but he’s been lying to me for years, so I don’t know what to believe.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Not well enough, apparently.”

  “Why did he lie to you?”

  “He reckons to protect me, but it doesn’t work like that in my, uh, industry. It’s all about the money, man, and being queer is a quick-fire way to losing it all.”

  “Is the money that important to you?”

  “Not in itself, but I don’t know anything else. If I didn’t do what I do, I’d have nothing.”

  I could relate to that, even if the realities we were talking about were worlds apart. “What’s going to happen next?”

  “Dunno. Probably nothing, but I can’t handle any more looking over my shoulder, you know? It’s fucking killing me as it is, and this guy? Shit, I thought he was the one dude I could almost be myself with.”

  “You can’t be yourself with him now you know he knows?”

  “Nah. He’s a liar, man. Whatever he says, it was himself he was trying to protect. If it got out about me, he’d be screwed too. My livelihood is his—as in, his depends on mine.”

  Dom had lost me, but his bleak tone was tearing me in two. I wanted to touch him, comfort him, and kiss it all away until I found that rare smile he was still hiding from me. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t see how. What was I gonna do? Take out a hit on the guy who’d discovered Dom’s secret? Right, ’cause even without the melodrama playing out in my overactive imagination, the reality was that if one bloke could find out, so could another. Secrets never stayed secret forever.

  “Anyway,” Dom said after a protracted silence. “Sorry I bothered you with it. I just—I just can’t lay it on no one else. There is no one else.”

  I closed my eyes. There doesn’t need to be. “Can I see you?”

  Ten

  Dom

  Another hotel meet was peak stupidity, but I booked it anyway. Gave Lucky a false name to check in with, and paid online with a prepaid credit card. I couldn’t gather my thoughts enough to know why I was doing it, just thanked god I had a rest day scheduled today, and didn’t have to wait until evening to skulk up the road to Shoreditch.

  That afternoon, Isha called while I was driving. I ignored him, but a message flashed up while I was at a red light.

  Isha: Dom, I’m sorry. Call me.

  He was the only fucker I knew who used proper punctuation in texts. It used to amuse me. Now it made my skin crawl as I recalled the bitter end of our conversation the day before:

  “Dom, I planted those stories for your own sake…for appearances.”

  “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  “I think we both know why.”

  He’d known for years, though not until after he’d signed me, which was probably why he’d kept it to himself. All the bullshit stories in the rags. The alpha male endorsement deals. Even manipulating my sale to London’s roughest top-flight club had been part of his game of painting me as a moody hetero bachelor.

  “Come on, Dom. I saw the way you used to look at me, back in the day. That on top of the fact you’ve never picked up a girl in your life, how on earth wouldn’t I work it out?”

  Prick. I’d managed to leave him in the car park without punching his lights out, but beyond losing myself in Lucky, I still had no idea what I was going to do next. Dumping Isha as my agent was logical, but stupid at the same time. He held my darkest secret in his hands. Fuck him, and he’d fuck me, even if he’d denied over and over that he wanted to hurt me.

  “Dom, I’ve known you since you were a teenager. Don’t you think I’d have done something with this before now if I wanted to?”

  My hands clenched around the steering wheel. I wished there wasn’t part of me that wanted to believe him.

  The hotel I’d met Lucky at before loomed into view, and a lick of anxiety tainted the thrill buzzing through me. Perhaps I should’ve chosen somewhere else, but this place was stripped back and basic, no restaurants, gym, or bars inside. Just a self-service check-in desk and a fish tank in reception. And it wasn’t far for Lucky to come. I still knew next to nothing about him, but it had become obvious that money was an issue for him. If I could make his life easier, I would.

  Yeah, ’cause a few hours in a shit hotel with you is just goals, right?

  I exhaled loudly and drove into an extortionate underground car park—the only kind in London my wank-mobile wouldn’t get jacked from. Parked up, I threw a bomber jacket over my hoodie and got out; pulling my hood up when I reached the street, thankful it was cold enough for my mash-man look to blend in.

  My phone rang again as I approached the hotel. I cancelled the call without looking at the screen and turned the phone off. The temptation to dump it was strong, but responsibility won out. Coach Fernando always checked in on rest days. If I didn’t respond to his habitual evening email when I eventually rejoined the real world, I’d have a million more fucked-up questions to deal with—hassle a
nd bullshit that left my mind the moment I found myself outside the room Lucky should’ve checked into an hour ago.

  I raised my hand to knock, but the door flew open before my knuckles hit wood, and Lucky dragged me inside, knocking my hood back. “What the fuck?”

  He gifted me an impish grin and hung the DND sign on the handle before shutting the door. “I got a bit overexcited ’cause you don’t have your hat on for the first time ever. Also, I figured you wouldn’t want to hang around the corridor too long.”

  He was right about that. I leaned back on the door, counting my thumping heartbeats. It was only the fifth time we’d seen each other, but I’d missed him and the strange reality he brought to my messed-up world. He barely knew me, but he knew so much more than anyone else.

  Except Isha—

  But I cancelled that shit too. For however long I had Lucky to myself, there was nothing else.

  “You look wrecked,” Lucky said.

  I focussed on him, falling down those sharp blue eyes. “That’s nice.”

  “I’m not saying it to be a dick.” He somehow got up in my personal space without touching me. “I just mean you look like the last few days have fucked you.”

  “They have.” I couldn’t deny it.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  I shrugged. We’d talked about it already, and without giving Lucky as much ammo on me as Isha had, there wasn’t much else to say, which was sad, because now Isha was off my Christmas card list, besides Maldano, who I rarely saw outside work now he had a million kids, Lucky was pretty much my only almost friend.

  Lucky hummed, a low sound deep in his throat, and took my hands. He led me to the bed and sat me down on the edge. “I think you need to lose these creps.”

  “Creps? Since when do you speak gang slang?”

  “I’ve been in Tottenham all morning. The bus stop is right outside the high school. I’m well up on it now.”

  “You weren’t before?”

  “Nah, I’m from Brighton.”

  “How did you end up in London?”

  He glanced up at me. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Because I’m interested?”