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Whether through alcohol or embarrassment, Matheson was starting to colour, and his jaw was firmly set.
As expected, the other team cleaned up with the next three darts.
‘Next match I want a partner who’s got his eyes open,’ said Check Shirt.
‘Leave it, Jake,’ Matheson said.
‘Come on, mate. That was shite.’
‘I said lay off,’ Matheson warned, more forcefully.
Check Shirt nudged him good-naturedly, but Matheson stormed off to the gents. The other team rolled their eyes knowingly. Seems they already knew what she and Penn were now learning.
Peter Matheson didn’t like to be belittled and he didn’t like to lose.
Stacey glanced at her colleague, who smiled in return.
‘On it, Stace. Now here’s what I need you to do.’
SIXTY
Stacey took her place, nestled at the bar.
Peter Matheson exited the toilets and headed back to his buddies. Penn stepped out from the side of the fruit machine and ploughed straight into him.
‘Oh, sorry, mate,’ Penn said, reaching out to steady the man.
‘It’s okay, never m—’
‘Hey, you’re that guy, ain’t yer?’ Penn said, peering closer and wobbling slightly on his feet.
Before he could respond, Penn grabbed his hand and started pumping it enthusiastically.
‘Followed you, man,’ Penn gushed loudly. ‘Go HTFC,’ he called out, punching the air. ‘Can’t believe you didn’t get snapped up for the big leagues like a couple of your buddies. You guys never get the glory you deserve like the strikers.’
Matheson was trying to keep a polite smile on his face while attempting to edge away from him.
‘Yeah, some of them guys got the big houses and the flash cars, but not the goalie, eh, mate?’
The jaw was tightening.
‘Although you guys just stand still for most of the game, don’t you? It’s the others that run their knackers off for ninety minutes. I bet you’re on your phones most of the time,’ Penn said, laughing obnoxiously.
Peter Matheson was not looking happy. Who knew Penn could be so annoying?
‘All right, fella, that’s enough.’
‘Nah, I’m on your side, mate. It’s shit you got dumped, but I suppose you was starting to lose your edge a bit.’
The rage was starting to stain Matheson’s cheeks.
Stacey had been concerned that his mates would step in, but they seemed to be enjoying the show as much as she was.
She leaned towards a guy in his early twenties on her right.
‘Looks like that ex-footballer’s gonna kick off in a second,’ she said.
She moved away but not before she saw him reaching for his phone.
