Page 35 of Easy
‘And I say again, you are so odd.’
Now a trio, we turn and start walking in the direction of the green playing field. On two sides of said field, bleachers stand, greying and open to the elements. There are a couple of dugouts ahead along with some floodlights. It’s not a professional stadium, by any means, but it’s still pretty slick for what’s essentially an amateur league.
‘How often do you train?’ I ask, tipping my head to better look at the man currently causing me to stagger drunkenly, squished to his side.
‘Twice a week. And games are on Sunday.’
‘Some of us train twice a week.’ Keir’s tone is a little snarky. ‘While some of us turn up whenever they feel like it.’
‘I’m committed to my profession,’ Will says, defending his... career? ‘Mine is not the kind of job where I can just up and leave halfway through, is it, Sadie?’
‘No,’ I answer, as a shot of something dark green and twisty shoots through my insides. I imagine that would make for some pretty pissed-off customers. Not that I’m thinking about it. Or them. Or him and them. Gah! I fix a bland expression on my face as I add, ‘I think that would be very bad for business.’ As well as Will’s health.
Stiletto-Ninja throw, anyone?
‘Sadie here was just asking what’s attractive about rugby.’
‘It’s in the blood,’ the Scotsman says. ‘Like whisky for the Scots—bred in the veins, eh, Will?’
‘You’re not Scottish.’ I twist my head to get a better look at Will. I wouldn’t have thought so, but that distinct hint of something in his accent seems to be getting heavier right now.
‘He’d better be,’ answers Keir. ‘This team of ours is called the Dissidents. It’s an all Scots team, even if some of us are a wee bit more mongrel.’
‘I’m half Scottish,’ Will replies carefully.
‘Aye, the good half.’ Keir snorts.
‘You mean he has a good half?’
Keir then sets off laughing. ‘A woman who hasn’t yet been dazzled by your wit and charm? You must be losing your touch, William.’
‘Charm?’ I reply, cutting off Will’s response. ‘You mean he has some?’ I pretend to search for it on his person but come back up with a shrug.
‘A rare woman you have here.’ Keir’s taunting gaze slides to Will, then to me. ‘I’m told some find his dazzling good looks and posh boy façade... fascinating.’
‘Man, I need to pay more attention. See if I can find some of that.’
‘Though he might not be so pretty when he comes off the field today.’
‘Why?’ I ask, genuinely perplexed.
‘You’ve never watched a rugby game before?’ Keir sounds surprised.
‘I guess it’s not a popular sport back home. We play football, not the soccer kind—’
‘She means the kind with the helmets,’ interrupts Will.
‘I’m no’ daft. I do have a TV, you know. And helmets are for... helmets.’ Both men snigger, so I guess that was a dick joke?
‘Have you ever seen a game of football?’ I ask, feeling defensive of a sport I usually have no opinion of or affinity to. ‘It’s pretty tough.’
‘I watch the proper kind. The one with the regular shaped ball,’ says Keir dismissively.
‘That must be novel for you,’ Will replies, whip sharp. ‘It’s been a while, as I recall.’
‘What are you bletherin’ on about?’
‘Just that I expect you’ve forgotten what regular balls look like, seeing as yours are wrapped in all that cellophane.’
