Page 9 of The Game

Waller sighed, and I turned the key in the ignition, contemplating the wide sloped driveway. I'd never moved the car while on the phone, so I kept the handbrake in place. "This management business is hard. I know this is your first coaching job, Lyssa, but it's all about balance: what's good for the business, the team, the bank balance. It all has to balance somehow."

I glared out of the window. Playing the game itself was much easier than this. At least when you were out on the field, your only focus was on the ball itself and where your teammates were. None of this political shit.

That's what it was. Political shit.

"I've gotta drive, I'll see you in a few, and we can discuss."

"Listen, Rivers. He's refusing to join the team today because of what you said. Maybe you should apologise."

My hands gripped the steering wheel. Was the man for real? "What? Is he a bloody child? Sammy's more mature than this." I wanted to bash my head against the steering wheel. The concussion would be better than dealing with that ignorant pig. "I'm not apologising for shit." I glared out of the windscreen like I could melt the glass with the fury of my gaze. My fingers drummed on the dash, and I wondered how satisfying they would feel to sting against the smooth skin of the Lion's face. Harsh, but it was the truth.

Waller sighed. "See you when you get here. We need to finalise the team for the first game."

"Yep." I pressed the red button. My instant reaction was to ring Betsy and mouth off, let go of some steam, but I knew she would already be in training. Women didn't mess around with this shit; they got it done.

Seriously, what was that idiot's problem? Was he trying to get me sacked? I mean I could see it going that way, he was obviously the cash cow in this situation, and I was far more dispensable than him.

Instead of ringing, and bitching, I put the car into drive and headed to work. Cattle had gone to the slaughter with more willingness.

How could we finalise the team when the captain wasn't even there?

His Mercedes SUV was pulling out of the car park when I drove in. An old Lancashire cap was pulled low over his eyes as he ignored some reporters nearby. If he recognised me in my little family run around, he didn't allow it to show as he spun his wheels on the tarmac.

The reporters did though, like flies acknowledge shit.

A phone was thrust under my chin as I grabbed my bag off the passenger seat. "Alyssa, how is training?"

"Fine, it's good. The Red Cats are going to be on fire this tournament." I repeated my standard go-to line like a robot, the words tasting like a bitter ash on my tongue.

"How's coaching compared to playing?" Ah it’s that question again. Another standard reply. I was considering recording my answers and hitting play every time I went to and from my car.

I nodded and tried to edge past. "It's different, but I love the challenge."

"Why did you retire again? Was it just the knee?" My back stiffened but I kept my smile frozen onto my face.

"That’s correct. Sadly the doctors said the damage was irreparable, so I had to make a hard choice." I forced a smile a bit wider before speaking again. "But the good news is the Red Cats are keeping me involved in the game that I love."

I managed to make it to the door and breathed a sigh of relief, but the reporter shouted through the glass door just as security stepped in between us to intercede. "Is it true that Jase Willis has threatened to quit if you stay on?"

I didn’t stop or turn around to answer. I walked straight to Waller's office, ignoring the boys waiting for me in the changing room.

"Is it true that he's threatened to quit, all because of me?" I slammed my bag onto the chair, but it slid onto the floor. I didn't pick it up. Instead, I leaned onto Waller's desk, my fingers splayed against the grained wood.

"Not as such."

"But...?" I prompted.

Waller scrubbed at his hair. I was sure it was getting thinner and greyer with every passing day. "He said he won't play while you are still here."

"This is total bollocks. I'm good at my job. I know what I'm talking about."

Of course, I was good at my job. I'd been the England captain and led us to world cup victory...But then so had he...

"Why doesn't he want a woman on the team?" It was more than obvious that sexist or not, my arrival in team Red Cat had seriously tipped the apple cart.

Waller rested his head into his hands. When he looked up at me he dragged his hands down his face, and it took a moment for his skin to bounce back up again. He looked like one of those dogs with the excess skin and the problems with stringy drool.

"He has his reasons." Waller's face shut closed like a clam.