Into The Team (16 page)

Todd was reminded of Sean Thompson, the night on his bed with Jason Collier.  They didn’t fuck. Sean had done to Todd what Todd was now doing to Kieran, and that was just sliding his cock between his crack, pushing it forward until the tip hit the ball sack.

Relief lifted him. He pressed in harder.

Kieran let out a dull breathy sound as a warm trickle slipped over Todd’s fingers, making him look down over the defenders shoulder to watch.

Kieran thrust into his grip and fired.

After lunch on Tuesday, Todd waited outside the club building for Kieran. The lads from the house were taking a shower and most of the first team had gone. As he waited, Daryl sprinted across the field towards the building. He’d trained alone today and hadn’t been talkative.

As he approached, his face glowed with a fresh exercised look. Using his sleeve to wipe his brow, he smiled at Todd. Todd smiled back, struck by how different Daryl appeared with sweat darkened hair. His eyes were as sharp and clear as always.

He stopped in front of Todd, taking slow and even breaths.

“I’m off home now,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “Do you fancy coming to see my apartment like we discussed?”

Todd wondered if Daryl’s uncertain tone meant he felt nervous about asking the question. But seeing the sweat around his lips, he figured it was the result of tiredness, or a dry throat.

“I can’t today,” he said. “I’m training with Kieran this afternoon.”

Daryl’s eyes lost a touch of brightness, but he maintained the smile. “I heard you were doing a one to one with him. How’s it going?”

“It’s alright, I think,” Todd said. “We’ve got to know each other’s moves.” He had an idea. “Hey, why don’t you stay on today and join us?”

Daryl’s eyes brightened again, but he shook his head. “I need to relax this afternoon.”

“What about tomorrow? I could come and see your apartment tomorrow.”

Daryl’s smile grew full.

“I can make you dinner and we could watch a film,” he suggested. “I’ve only just got the flat in order so it’s a bit bare. Need more furniture and all that, but I’ve got a cooker and a dining table, sofas and TV.”

“Sounds good.” Todd patted his shoulder. “It’ll make a change from having dinner with the lads at the house.”

Daryl squeezed his arm. “Don’t forget.” He left Todd by the doorway and headed down the corridor to the locker room.

Todd watched him, thinking how interesting it would be to see what kind of apartment he had. With the money he earned it should be a penthouse.

Daryl turned back briefly on reaching the locker room. Todd smiled and held up a hand. Daryl nodded, his eyes bright.

That afternoon, as Kieran and Todd trained together, he mentioned the arrangement he had with Daryl. He felt it necessary to tell Kieran, as if it somehow affected their bond.

“Be careful with him,” Kieran said as they performed a few close passes.

Todd frowned as he kicked the ball. That sounded like a warning, and for a moment he wondered if Daryl was some kind of psycho.

“What do you mean?”

Kieran shrugged, his face serious. “I don’t know. Like I said, he’s a bit sensitive.”

The idea that Daryl was sensitive didn’t put Todd off, and he figured Kieran was just warning him not to expect any cock play. That was fine; Todd wasn’t especially hoping for it. And it would be good to be at ease with Daryl in a situation that didn’t require them to be naked. It would be like being regular mates.

Twenty-four hours later, Todd was in Daryl’s apartment.

Daryl had driven him there in his black VW convertible after training, and on the way, Todd had found out a snippet of the golden boy’s younger days growing up in Salchester just outside of Manford. Todd hadn’t been to Salchester before, but it was infamous for being a rough town with high unemployment and no real industry. That town didn’t even have a football club.

According to Daryl’s mum, Daryl starting kicking as soon as he could walk, and would go around the house launching his feet at plant pots, furniture, and anything else within reach. So his parents bought him a football before he’d reached the age of four, and he’d been kicking one ever since.

Todd realized he knew little about Daryl, he’d read articles about the Reds wonder boy in those celebrity magazines Cherrie collected, but none revealed much about him. Instead, they just talked about his career at the club.

Most of the journey, however, was spent in silence, as if Daryl didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence - they were both tired after training – and Todd didn’t feel the need to make conversation either. But he got the idea that Daryl may have been nervous, especially when out of nowhere, Daryl told him something random, completely unexpected.

As a small child, Daryl would sleep, not with a teddy bear like most kids, but with his football. He did this until he was a teenager, and even did it on the odd occasion now.

“Don’t worry though,” he’d followed up with a laugh. “It’s not a fetish.”

Todd hadn’t thought it odd because he’d done the same thing as a child. But he did think it odd that Daryl had said it out of context.

The apartment wasn’t what Todd expected. Instead of being a grand, penthouse style home, it was on the third of five floors that made up a newly built block on the outskirts of Chester, twenty miles south-west of The Valley. It was nowhere near the size of Sean Thompson’s mansion.

From the main door, a hallway led to an open space with windows spanning the walls on either side. Daryl was correct when he’d said there was little furniture. One side of the space, which Todd estimated to be half the size of a Tennis court, was completely bare. On the other side lay a six-seat dining table, the plain simple type seen in most modern furniture stores, and a sofa staring at a curve screen. Kitchen units, a cooker, and washer, lined the near wall.

“I see what you mean about needing more stuff.” Todd gazed at the empty side, wondering what he would do with the space.

Daryl placed his keys on the dining table.

“You might think this sounds stupid,” he said. “But I want to get two small football nets and lay down a green carpet in the middle. When my sister visits with her two kids, they can play football.”

Todd grinned. It sounded like a cool idea and he could imagine two kids loving what Daryl had described.

“You might want to think about those windows.” He pointed to the glass that lined the wall.

“It’s reinforced.” Daryl knocked it with his knuckles. “Apparently, it can stop a bullet.”

Todd gazed at the view. A tree-lined field sloped to a small stream, and a cottage sat back from a lane snaking down to a stone bridge. He was surprised Daryl hadn’t bought an apartment in a more urban area.

“Must be quiet here.”

“Yeah.” Daryl raised his finger to a point on the horizon where a row of poplars swayed lazily, their leaves fluttering away in the breeze. “The midsummer sun will set over there. It should create some beautiful colors.”

“It will heat up this room too.”

Next, Daryl showed him the kitchen.  The oven was standard, the washer too, but he had a curious looking hob. It was split into seven portions of misshapen elements. It didn’t seem economical, or even practical. Todd laughed. With two oblongs at either end, representing the goal boxes, a circle in the middle, and four rough L-shapes in between, it made a basic pitch layout.

Looking at Daryl, he could see he had been waiting for it to register. Todd looked around the main room. “Any more footballing décor?”

Daryl assured him that was all, and led him to the bedrooms. The one he’d furnished for himself was carpeted in dark red with streaks of black, giving the room a fiery depth. His wardrobes were simple; made from pine with shutter style doors. A king sized mattress sat inside what looked like a wooden box.

There were two empty spare rooms, and a stark, black and white bathroom. A corner bath made of black marble streaked with grey took up most of one side.

“It doubles as a Jacuzzi,” Daryl said.

A wall of two inch thick glass protected a walk-in shower. The toilet and sink were black. The floor tiles were white.

“This has a kind of chess-set look about it,” Todd said.

“Do you play chess?”

“My father taught me. I used to play with him.”

Daryl slipped a hand over Todd’s shoulder and gently rubbed.

“I heard your father passed away,” Daryl whispered.

“Yeah, when I was a kid.”

Todd smiled in the silence that followed. The feel of the hand on his shoulder, firm but comforting, said something that Daryl didn’t need to put into words.

They went back to the main room and Daryl began preparing two steaks. But he wouldn’t have Todd help him, instead, he told him to set up a game of chess on the kitchen counter.

Todd noted the chess set on a small table by the far wall. The pieces were solid steel, one half silver colored, and the other golden. The pawns were short cylinders, while the board was glass with checkered mirrors. It looked simple but classy.

He lifted it up, feeling its weight, and carefully took it to the kitchen counter, hoping not to drop it and have the pieces rolling across the wooden floor.

As the steaks simmered, they began making moves. Todd noted the serious eyes Daryl had while playing and remembered a quote his father often used: “Those who talk the most, think the least.” Todd guessed the opposite was true. Daryl was good at chess.

“Do you think you’re competitive?” he asked.

Daryl lifted his eyes.

“My parents say I am. But I think I’m more co-operative,” he said. “I prefer to work with people than against them.”

He put Todd in check.

Todd’s king, a cylinder about twice the height of the pawns with a simple crown on its head, was exposed. Daryl’s bishop, another cylinder with a spherical blob on top, had the king in line of sight. Not having played for a while, Todd shoved a pawn in the way. Daryl took it with his bishop, keeping him in check.

“But you like games?” Todd asked as he searched for a piece that could knock the bishop off the board.

“Everyone likes games,” Daryl said. “Even those who say they don’t. People are constantly playing games, even without realizing it.”

For a twenty one year old, Daryl sounded intelligent when he said more than two words, and Todd felt wary as he continued to look for a way out of his predicament. He could take the bishop with his knight, which being in the shape of a horse raised up on its hind legs, was the most impressive looking piece on the board. But Daryl would no doubt take that knight with his diamond-topped queen. Todd moved his castle topped rook to sit diagonally from his king, wondering if Daryl would dare take it.

Daryl didn’t. Instead, he casually moved his knight next to Todd’s bishop. The move made Todd nervous. He couldn’t see his strategy but figured there must be one.

“Do you play chess often?” Todd asked.

“I try, but not many of the lads like to play.”

Todd could see why. His brain was already tired of trying to figure out what to do next. He decided to take Daryl’s knight with his bishop.

“This game is like the opposite of football,” Daryl said as he took Todd’s bishop with a pawn. “With football you have to be quick on your feet and quick in your head. With chess you can slow down your thinking and keep your feet still.”

Todd used his rook to take Daryl’s pawn, figuring his next move would be to take the bishop.

“You can’t make that move.” Daryl shook his head. “You’ve exposed your king to my bishop.”

Shit! Todd moved the rook back. This guy wasn’t stupid and he knew this game was going to be lost.

“Do your parents still live in Salchester?” he asked while making an arbitrary move of a pawn.

“Yeah,” Daryl said with a laugh. “They still live in the same two bedroomed house. I don’t think they quite believe that I’m rich enough to buy them a castle. They say they just want to stay where they are.” He smiled softly. “I suppose it must be difficult for them to leave the place they know.” He turned to prod the steaks. “What about your parents, do they…” He turned back, a look of regret in his eyes. “Sorry, I mean your mother…”

“Don’t worry, man,” Todd smiled. “My father died a long time ago; I’m over it. My mother still lives in Blackmoor with my half-sister. She almost got married again six years ago, but it fell through.”

Daryl turned back to the steaks. After dishing them out, he heaped a few scoops of rice for Todd and handed him a plate.

They sat over the chess set as they ate. The steak was tender.

Daryl took a pawn with his queen and placed Todd’s king in check again.