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“The Serena girl?”
“I took her dogging, invited her to hotel rooms to have sex with other men. I didn’t pay her, though. That was just sensationalism for a better pay cheque.”
“And April? She knows about all that?”
Hearing Gemma speak the bitch’s name was like a nail in my fucking side. “She knows enough. She doesn’t give a shit, so long as the press keep printing our happy pictures and telling her how fucking wonderful she is.”
“Does she know about me?” Her eyes looked to her knees, nervous. I could have reached out to touch her, but I didn’t.
“She suspects.”
“Are there others? More like me?” She played with the hem of her skirt, blessing me with the slightest glimpse of her gorgeous white thighs.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve got a chatline girl lined up in every city. Whenever there’s an away game I try and hook them up, ship up a busload of mates for a gangbang and then turn up with a bunch of shitty roses wanting to get to know them.” I sighed. “Of course there aren’t any others. Gemma, don’t do this. Youknowme.”
“I don’t, though, do I?”
I did touch her this time. My hand on hers as she gripped her knee, squeezing tight. “Yesterday, in the rain and the mud, you knew me. That was real, dirty girl.”
“Thisis real. You’re a footballer. You’re on TV every weekend. You’re married to a pop star and you live on an estate in Surrey.”
“It sounds like you’ve reached the end of the road before we’ve even started.”
Her beautiful green eyes were so sad when they finally met mine. “There is no road. You’re married. I’ve seen her face, seen the way she smiles at you.”
“All fake, like I said.”
“Even so. I pictured trucker Jason with some dowdy wife who didn’t care a shit for him. Figured she’d probably be having an affair herself, maybe a toy boy while he was out on the road.”
“April’s been screwing her stylist since before we got married. Don’t believe the hype.” I finished my coffee, ditched the mug on the floor. “So, it’s the wife? That’s the deal breaker?”
She struggled for words. “It’s all of it. I told you, I can’t be a footballer’s wife, or lover, or whatever the hell this is. I’m not that girl! I’m not a celebrity type, Jason, I’m just a girl. I don’t want my face in the papers, I don’t want people talking about me. Look at you, and look at me.”
I did look at her, I’d never get bored of looking at her. I watched her pink cheeks darken, highlighting her freckles and those gorgeous eyes. “I haven’t stopped looking at you, Gemma. I love looking at you. You have beautiful eyes.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. Me being the one to tell Jason fucking Redfern that this crazy fling can’t work.”
“Is that what you’re telling me?” Fuck, it stung. It stung bad.
“It’s the truth.”
I gritted my teeth, strangely hurt. “Do you want me to leave?”
She didn’t answer, which was answer enough on its own. “I wish you were a trucker, Jason. A nobody, like me.”
“You aren’t a nobody, dirty girl.” I got to my feet, hovering like a prick before getting myself together. “This really isn’t what I was hoping for.”
“Nor me. I can’t believe this is real, this stuff doesn’t happen to people like me.”
“This is really it? We walk away?”
She shrugged, chewing on her thumbnail. She wouldn’t look at me. “We carry on this thing and one of us is going to get hurt. You won’t leave your wife, and I couldn’t stand it if you did. The papers would tear the shit out of us, Jason, and that’s the best case scenario. The worst is that one day someone spots us, and then the media would really go to town.Slutty chatline girl seduces Premier League superstar. It would be hell for both of us.”
I couldn’t argue with her. She was right.
