Extra Time. Michelle Betham

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       Chapter Nine

      Ryan hung his head, watching out of the window as Ellen practically skipped down the road, away from his apartment building, off to enjoy a day with her friends in town, unaware that he wasn’t going to be around later like she hoped he was going to be. He had plans. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was available at her beck and call whenever she wanted him. That was his territory.

      Moving away from the window, he pushed a hand through his messed-up hair as he walked over to the kitchen. His head was still banging, that self-inflicted hangover making its appearance felt once again now the morning sex was over and reality was back. He needed some kind of quick-fix relief, especially as Max was due any minute now. He really didn’t want or need his agent to see him looking like shit, even if that’s exactly how he felt. But he’d needed last night, needed that chance to escape, even if it had only been for a few hours. He’d needed to be with someone, to do something that took his mind off everything that was going on, but he also knew he had to make a decision soon. He had to grow up and face things head-on, or he knew he could be in danger of losing it all – and he wasn’t willing to go there again.

      Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, he sat down in a chair by the window, bowing his head, focusing on his blue and yellow trainers – one of the many freebies he’d been given over the course of his career. He’d lost count of how many others he’d received, everything from holidays to flat-screen TVs, even a car. And yet, right now, he’d give it all away if it meant he could just turn the clock back and make everything right. Turn his future into something he wanted, rather than something he needed to do.

      Knocking back what he hoped would be a miraculous cure for his headache from hell, he wondered if a nice greasy fry-up would have been a better option, but he didn’t have the energy to crack an egg, never mind cook up the full works. Maybe he should have asked Ellen to make him breakfast before she’d left. He was sure she’d have done so gladly, but letting her take control in his kitchen might have sent off more of those wrong signals he really didn’t want her to pick up on. So a glass of orange juice would have to do.

      He’d no sooner drained his glass, putting it down on the table in front of him, pushing it away with his foot, when he heard the front door of his riverside apartment open, causing him to look up sharply, which he soon realised had been a really bad idea, given his condition.

      ‘Jesus Christ. What happened to this being a secure building?’

      Max Mandell, Ryan’s agent, kicked the front door shut behind him and walked into the large, open-plan living area, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his no-doubt extremely expensive dark grey suit. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, looking briefly at Ryan before going straight into the kitchen and flicking on the kettle.

      ‘Huh?’ Ryan frowned, getting up and following Max. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

      ‘You look shifty,’ Max said, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms. ‘Like you’re up to something.’

      ‘What the…? Why do you always think the worst of me?’

      Max just raised an eyebrow. Max Mandell was one of the most respected and revered football agents around, not to mention one of the shrewdest. He’d been Ryan’s agent for almost eight years and he knew him better than anybody, having been with him through the many highs and lows that Ryan’s career had experienced. His client list was short, but the names he had on that list were big names, names that brought the money in, and because of who he was and what he could do for his clients, the waiting list to get on his books was growing longer by the day.

      ‘Jesus…’ Ryan said, turning to look out over the view of the River Tyne, the hustle and bustle of Newcastle City Centre just minutes away from his doorstep. He loved this city, he loved the life he had. But he just wasn’t sure things could stay the way they were when he still felt the way that he did.

      ‘You promise me you’re not up to anything?’ Max asked, pouring boiling water into a mug he’d retrieved from the cupboard.

      Ryan turned back around. ‘Is this how it’s gonna be from now on? You always two steps behind me, keeping an eye on me? Making sure I’m not lapsing back into my old ways?’

      Max shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Ryan. Do I need to be two steps behind you?’

      Ryan averted his eyes away from Max’s, rubbing a hand СКАЧАТЬ