Striker. Michelle Betham
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Ryan looked at Gary as he handed him another pint. ‘Have you had many dealings with Amber Sullivan?’
Gary grinned, taking a mouthful of ice-cold lager. ‘Yeah. ‘Course I have. I mean, I’ve come across her a few times. She’s interviewed a lot of us local players over the years. She certainly makes a welcome change from all those run-of-the-mill blokes-in-suits I used to get at me old clubs. Why do you ask?’
Ryan shrugged. ‘No reason.’
‘You do know she’s Freddie Sullivan’s daughter, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I know. I’m assuming she takes after her mother in the looks department.’
Gary laughed. ‘Yeah. She’s pretty easy on the eye, isn’t she?’
‘I’ve certainly never been interviewed by anyone with legs like hers before, that’s for sure.’ Ryan smirked, also downing a mouthful of lager.
‘She’s got a reputation for being a bit of a cold bitch, though,’ Gary went on, grinning at a couple of girls in short skirts and extremely high heels as they sauntered past. ‘Won’t touch footballers with a bargepole, apparently. Although, she did have a fling with Ronnie White. Just before he met his ex-wife.’
Ryan looked at his teammate. ‘Really? They used to be a couple?’
Gary nodded. ‘It was never something the whole world knew about. You know Ronnie, he’s a pretty private person. It didn’t last all that long, apparently. But they’ve stayed friends ever since.’
Ryan took another drink. ‘Do you think there’s anything going on between them now? I mean, Ronnie – he’s recently divorced, isn’t he? Was that because of her, do you think? Because of Amber?’
‘Nah, mate. His wife left him for Frankie Greenham, Kennway Town’s goalie. Had nothing to do with the lovely Amber Sullivan. Like I said before, Ronnie White was the one and only exception to her “no footballers” rule. I should know. I’ve tried.’
‘What? You’ve asked her out?’ There was more than a hint of surprise in Ryan’s voice.
‘Half the squad’s asked her out, mate. She’s said no to all of us. Doesn’t want to know.’
Ryan said nothing, just took another slow swig of lager.
‘Anyway, do you want another one? We’re gonna hang round here for a bit longer before we hit the club.’
‘Nah, I’m alright for the minute,’ Ryan smiled.
‘Fancy a game of pool?’ Gary asked, sliding off the stool and grabbing his pint.
‘I’ll be over in a bit. Just got to nip to the loo.’
‘Okay. Well, we’re just over there. See you later.’
Ryan watched Gary walk over to the rest of the lads before turning round on his stool and taking a look around the crowded bar. Sometimes, being a professional footballer at the highest level was akin to being like the proverbial kid in a candy shop. All around him was temptation, and all he had to do was give the nod and whatever he wanted would just appear. Would he ever get bored of that feeling? Would the day ever come when he just didn’t want to do this anymore? When all he wanted to do was settle down and get on with his life? Maybe. But it wasn’t happening any time soon, that was for sure.
Turning back to face the bar, he held up his empty glass and indicated to the barman that he was ready for another. One more then he’d join the rest of the lads. This night was only just beginning, and he had a gut feeling it was going to be a good one.
‘You do know that practically every male head in this bar has turned to look in your direction at least once, don’t you?’ Ronnie smiled, returning to the table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. ‘Because you have scrubbed up pretty nicely, Ms. Sullivan.’
‘Champagne?’ Amber asked, ignoring Ronnie’s comment. ‘Are we celebrating something?’
‘Yeah. You finally leaving the house for a few hours and actually enjoying yourself.’
‘Cheeky bastard.’ But she couldn’t help smiling. ‘And you don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Mr. White.’
Ronnie White may not have been as obviously handsome as the Ryan Fishers of this world, but he had a quirky quality about him that made him just as attractive, in a different kind of way. Probably more so, because Ronnie wasn’t just some pretty shell that drew women’s attention towards him purely because of his looks. He was also one of football’s nice guys. He always had been; that was just the kind of person he was, and it still seemed unbelievable to Amber that Karen hadn’t been able to see what a gem of a man she’d had in him. As far as she’d been concerned, the grass was greener elsewhere, but in Amber’s eyes she thought Karen had made a huge mistake. Ronnie was a wonderful man, but if Karen hadn’t been able to see that then she really didn’t deserve him. Amber just hoped that, next time, he’d find someone who really loved him and appreciated him. Because he deserved that.
‘You alright?’ Ronnie asked, breaking into Amber’s thoughts.
‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking, that’s all.’
‘Well, quit thinking and start enjoying yourself. Here. Get this down your neck.’ He leaned forward, handing her a glass of champagne.
‘You’re such a charmer, Ronnie,’ Amber smiled, taking a sip of the cold, bubbly liquid. ‘And isn’t this a bit excessive? Champagne, on a Wednesday night?’
‘I’m an ex-professional footballer, Amber. There’s no such thing as excessive.’
Amber smiled again, because he’d said that with his tongue very firmly in his cheek. Ronnie had never really lived the extravagant footballer’s lifestyle, which was partly the reason why she liked him so much. But was that also partly the reason why Karen had left him? Had she wanted that lifestyle more than she’d wanted Ronnie? It was something that had crossed Amber’s mind on more than one occasion since Ronnie’s marriage break-up. But it was something she still couldn’t get her head around. Ronnie was genuine. He never did things because he felt he had to, or because he just could. Karen really had no idea what she’d thrown away.
‘Do you fancy going clubbing?’ Ronnie asked, taking a sip of his own champagne, his eyes fixed on Amber as she shuffled about in her seat, the short black dress she was wearing riding up her legs slightly to reveal probably a little more tanned thigh than she’d intended.
‘Clubbing? Are you joking? The last time I went clubbing flares were still in fashion. And you’re hardly John Travolta yourself.’
‘You’re supposed to be having fun.’
‘I am having fun, thank you. This is me, having fun.’
Ronnie leaned forward again, clasping his hands together between his open knees, fixing Amber with a look that defied her to turn away. ‘Do you ever relax? I mean, I’ve known you for almost ten years now and in all that time I’ve only seen you really let yourself go once, maybe twice – my wedding, and that Christmas party we went to when we were a couple, when I was playing for United. The club Christmas party, remember?’
‘How could I forget? You should never have let me have that Long Island Iced Tea. It was lethal.’
Ronnie smiled, and Amber loved the way his eyes crinkled up at the edges. ‘You had such a good night, Amber. You were the life and soul of that party, so I know you can let your hair down, when you want to.’
‘When I’m drunk, you mean,’ Amber half-smiled as she took another small sip of champagne.
‘Well, maybe you should get drunk more often,’ Ronnie sighed, sitting back in his seat. ‘Everything doesn’t have to be so serious all the time, y’know.’
Amber put her glass down and crossed