Final Score

‘So what’s the prob… oh, hang on.’

Amber turned her head to look at Debbie, but she didn’t say anything.

‘You haven’t?’

‘I haven’t, what?’

‘You and Jim.’

‘There is no me and Jim. We’re divorced, remember?’

‘That means nothing where you two are concerned.’

‘Why do people keep saying that?’

Debbie narrowed her eyes as she continued to stare at her. ‘You’ve slept with him, haven’t you?’

‘No, I…’ Amber let out another sigh, this time one of resignation.

‘When?’

‘What is this? You’ll be reading me my rights next.’

‘When did you have sex with him, Amber?’

‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business.’

‘You’re my friend. It’s very much my business. When?’

‘Just before the game.’

‘Okay… and, what happened after that?’

‘Newcastle Red Star beat Wearside Spartans 3 – 2.’

‘Oh, Ronnie is so right about your tendency to be flippant when faced with something you don’t want to talk about. So, let me get this straight, you have sex with your ex-husband, and then you decide to move down to London to get away from him, is that right?’

Amber just stared at Debbie for a second or two. ‘No. That is not right. I’d already made the decision to base myself down south before all this shit happened…’

‘This shit? Oh, so, it wasn’t good, then? Sex with Jim.’

‘Now who’s being flippant? I’m being serious here, Debbie. Ronnie told me I needed to sort myself out, so, that’s what I’m trying to do.’

‘By moving away from everything you know?’

‘Jesus, Debbie, come on. I’ve been working down there for over a year now, it’s hardly the end of the earth. And I just need the space, alright? I need the space.’

‘Why?’

Amber stared at her again, knowing all too well she was trying to get her to admit to something she already knew. ‘I’m moving to London, end of subject.’

‘Okay. That’s me told,’ Debbie huffed, sucking up the last of her gin and tonic. ‘I’m off to get a refill.’

Amber watched her walk over to the bar, whispering something to Ronnie that caused him to look over, and Amber could only hope it wasn’t enough to make him come and talk to her. She really wasn’t in the mood to discuss this any more, not today.

‘So you’re moving to London?’

She felt her heart skip a ridiculous beat as the familiar American accent once more filled her head, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She didn’t think she was strong enough.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It wasn’t really the right time, was it? When you were fucking me up against your office door.’

‘I would have thought it was the perfect time.’

Still she said nothing. She just dug her hands into her pockets and stared down at the ground.

‘You thought it was the perfect time to tell Ryan, though. Didn’t you?’

She slowly looked up, raising her head so her eyes met his. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight, Jim. I haven’t been thinking straight for a while now. Ever since you walked back into my life my head’s been a fucking mess.’

It was Jim’s turn to look away. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘You have no say in the matter. And I don’t want to hear you say that, okay? I don’t want you to say something like that when you don’t really mean it.’

‘I mean it.’ His eyes were back on hers, staring at her with an intensity that was quite frightening. ‘I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to be so far away I can’t see you or talk to you or…’

‘Hang on…’ That confusion that seemed to be omnipresent at the minute washed over Amber once again, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. It was like some weird and invisible force was keeping them locked on his. ‘You have absolutely no right to stand there and say those things. None. You… you divorced me, Jim. You left me.’

‘Because you were sleeping with one of my players.’

Amber laughed, a small, cynical laugh. ‘This is crap. All of it, it’s crap.’ She pushed a hand through her hair and turned away, knowing that she needed to leave here. She needed to walk away and leave this crazy situation that she couldn’t understand. Before it killed her.

‘Amber, please…’ Jim reached out, his fingers gently circling her wrist, stopping her from going anywhere. ‘I’m sorry, okay?’

She looked at him again, her head telling her one thing, and her heart screaming something altogether different. ‘For what, Jim? For sleeping with me when I was just a teenager? For making me love you my entire life? For messing with my head every single, fucking day? What exactly are you sorry for?’

‘Letting you go. I’m sorry for letting you go, and there are reasons, believe me, Amber, there are reasons why I… why…’

She frowned slightly as she noticed emotion clouding his usually impassive and stoic expression. This was a side of him she’d very rarely seen, and it confused her even more. ‘Jim?’

He shook his head. ‘Not here.’

‘No. No, don’t ask me to go somewhere more private or make me listen to any more excuses or…’

‘I have to go.’

‘What the…? Jim!’