Free Dirty Bad Strangers by Jade West Page B

stood in unison to bellow out the words. I closed my eyes, standing proud with the rest of them, letting the moment sweep me away. Ten years I’d been at the club, and this would be my last, the end of an era.
    The end of my Premiership dream, but the what-ifs no longer petrified me.
    All over a chatline girl? Maybe. Who really cared? It felt good.
    Trevor sent the first team off early for the afternoon, his instructions clear.
    Get some rest. Be on your best bastard form for tomorrow. Show those Mancunian fuckers who rules the Premier League!
    Maybe just this once I’d do as I was told.
     
    I took a detour out to Steve’s on the way home, announcing my arrival with my own personal rendition of the Singers chant.
    “Aye-aye, mate,” he said. “Can’t bloody get rid of you these days.”
    “Fancied a drive.”
    “Sure you did.” He flashed me a smile, one of his old ones, full of mischief. “Fucking hell, you caught lucky there. She looks like a right goer.”
    I took a perch on the workbench as he measured out timber.
    “Me and you, Steve, I’ll bring her out here, before the Carlisles get involved. Just us, and her.”
    “Sounds good to me, mate.”
    “I need some things for the barn. Will you order them if I give you the cash?”
    I handed him a list, checking out his expression as he scanned it.
    “...Bloody hell, Jase, this shit ain’t gonna come cheap.”
    “It’ll be worth it.”
    “ She’ll be worth it, you mean.”
    “Yes, she will.”
    He grinned, and it took ten years off him. “Think you might be right.”
    “I’m going to need your car. Can’t exactly rock up at hers in any of mine.”
    “ I’ll need your clothes, your barn and your Land Rover... Terminator would have been quite a different film, mate.”
    I smirked, slapping him on the back as I made my exit.
    “I’ll be back.”
     
     
    ***
     
    Gemma
     
    Friday night was a no show for Jason, not that I had time to dwell on it. I’d been up til gone four, pretending to drug a roomful of girlfriends and shave all their hair off. Not my favourite fetish, but it had really clocked up my bonus. I slept in late Saturday, woken finally by the relentless buzz of the intercom.
    I trudged through the living room in my dressing down, only to groan inside as Chelsea’s voice greeted me.
    “Tessa said you’d be in.”
    Thanks a bunch, Tess.
    I’d been avoiding Chelsea since our spat at the club, content to keep her on the periphery of my life for the time being. Seems she wasn’t so happy with the arrangement. I buzzed her in, flicking on the kettle as she marched her way inside. She had new extensions in, even longer than the last.
    “Nice hair.”
    “Purest platinum,” she smiled, twirling for me.
    “Tessa’s on a double shift today, won’t be in until late.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You know I came to see you . Not still sulking, are you? I didn’t mean to be a bitch.”
    “You were a bitch,” I said, handing her a coffee anyway.
    “Can we be friends again?” She fluttered her ridiculously long lashes, giving me her very best please please please pout.
    “We’ve always been friends. I just don’t want to spend time with someone who thinks I’m a fat, desperate embarrassment.”
    “I don’t think that!”
    I shrugged. “Not how it sounded.”
    “We’d all had a few drinks, Gemma, don’t condemn me as the eternal sinner.” She took her coffee through to the living room, making herself well and truly at home.
    “How’s the modelling?”
    “Great,” she said. “Awesome, actually.”
    That meant it wasn’t.
    “Not shacked up with some ripped, fake-tanned celeb yet, then?”
    She scowled. “I’m working on it. I want a footballer. Being a footballer’s wife would really suit me.”
    “That’s your criteria, is it? A footballer? Any footballer will do?” I couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity. I must be a glutton for punishment, but I’d kind of missed the silly cow.
    “A Premier League