An Englishman in New York - a short story

Version 12.2.2 - "no real players" selected to be unique. USA league loaded only.

Hi all, been meaning to write a short story for a while now, and had this idea a few hours ago after the Sting song came into my head while making dinner. Hope you like it, as it will be just one season in the MLS.

These version of events are entirely false and made-up and based on no truth what's so ever. I had the idea before the database was created and always planned that the place of birth generated would be used. The game gave me Birkenhead, and I want to go on record as saying that I do not believe the people of Liverpool are in anyway untrustworthy or criminals.

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Chapter 1

Sam was running an errand and he was running late, and he cursed the extra minutes lost by the hindrance of the delay. He was doing a favour for his best mate and was sat at a traffic light, while looking at his phone to try and see if his contact had returned his message. He heard the car behind him beep its horn and looked up to see that it had changed to green. He put his foot on the accelerator and turned the corner, the car skidding slightly on the still wet floor from an earlier downpour.

He drove slowly, looking at the buildings on either side trying to find his destination. The roads were deserted but that was not surprising as it was a bitterly cold January night. The warehouse numbers started to count-down invitingly and he pulled the car up on the edge of the curb at his destination. It was quiet and he turned the engine off to join the silence.

“Where the **** is he? He should have been here by now?”

He was talking to himself, so wasn’t getting an answer. Most of the UK population would be scared in this part of Liverpool, but not him. It was dark, and the shadows loomed menacingly but Sam was a Birkenhead boy, born and raised. This was his turf, and he never felt fear in his neighbourhood.

Something caught his eye and he spun his head to the movement. A glow of a cigarette lit up like a beacon and his contact stepped out, the smoke joining the freezing night air to create a white cloud. The man was wearing a black woolly hat and had his collar up high, his dark stubble merging into his coat and distorting his face into a strange almond shape.

Danny Williams was a criminal and nicknamed Mr Kipling due to his many fingers in many pies. He put fear of God into any who dared cross his path, and he was wanted by the police for glassing a barman who he felt disrespected him. The poor kid was scarred for life for simply not serving the man quick enough. His University education and privileged upbringing meant he had no idea who the scally was, but would never forget his face now. It haunted his dreams and made even shaving a painful reminder of his encounter with the evil side of life.

The thug nodded at his old school friend and they smiled at each other, and he slowly move towards the car. Suddenly his face was illuminated by a strange blue light and he vanished back into the shadows. Sam looked in his rear view mirror and saw the police car flashing behind him, forcing him into action. He started the engine and roared off leaving just the stench of burning rubber behind, knowing he could not get caught if he floored the 4x4.

“Tango Oscar 14 in pursuit of a suspicious vehicle requesting back-up. Heading North on Elmwood Street at high speed. Driver is IC1 male with dark hair, mid to late 30’s and driving a Sports Utility Vehicle. Attention drawn by slow driving and suspected curb-crawler.”

“Sierra Whiskey 45 here, we’re nearby and can assist, will block the top of Acton Street.”

His heart was pounding but he was confident he’d get away as he knew these streets like the back of his hand. He raced up the tarmac and saw the car behind grow smaller in the side mirror and smiled to himself. No-one could catch Sam Heywood once he got going, and this was no different. His eyes diverted back to the road in front of him and the confidence faded as he saw the road-block ahead.

“How did they get here so fast? It’s a bloody trap, they knew I was here. I’ve been set up!”

The wheels screeched as he braked and spun the car down an alley between two buildings, and he afforded himself another smile. The area was ingrained in his head which was why he chose it for the meet; he always made sure he knew his exits. He just needed to get out and take a left, go up the road and swing a right into the Fagan Estate car park where he could lose them in the garages, covering himself from any helicopters that may be offering aerial support.

Out of the gloom a shape came into view and he slowed as the cold harsh truth set in; the big wheelie bin was blocking his path and his freedom was blocked. He was trapped like a rat in maze.

His options ran through his mind; the car was in his name but he could report it stolen. He could give himself up or continue his escape. He decided to go for it, and brought the car to a halt and rubbed his sleeve over the steering wheel and anything he may have touched as quickly as possible. He jumped out and rubbed the door handle, and ran past the bin and further down the street.

PC Scott Barnes was known on the force as the flying Policeman due to his ability to run the 100 metres in just over 12 seconds. But at work he was hindered by his police issue boots and uniform, and the guy he found himself chasing was something else and ran like a machine helped by his sportswear. He felt his lungs burn as he chased him and shouted down his radio their route between gasps for air, and felt the relief as he saw the other police car block the path of the assailant.

In the blink of an eye the suspect jumped and slid over the bonnet and kept running and into the notorious Fagan Council Estate, and PC Barnes continued after him despite desperate pleas from his colleagues to leave it. He hated to lose and entered the scene of a brutal murder of a police officer a few months ago without even considering the dangers. He didn't look behind which was lucky as he would have seen his backup stay in the safety on the streets. He was alone in his pursuit, and all he could hear was his breathes and the echo of their footsteps, drumming a beat on the pavement.

The man was fast, too fast, and had the stamina of an athlete. But luck was evidently not on his side. Out of the darkness a dog came rushing out and got caught under his feet, and he fell to the floor with a dive reminiscent of Klinsman in his heyday. PC Barnes saw his chance and drew on the last of his strength to dig deep to close the gap between his prey. As the man got up he flew at him and rugby tackled him to the ground and managed to pin him down despite struggles. He felt like a Mountie as he finally got his man, and their limbs were entangled as they lay on the floor like a Twister game gone wrong. They were both breathing heavily as the moon broke through the clouds and suddenly lit up their faces.

“Oh my days….. Sam Heywood?”

Chapter 2

Samuel Lewis Heywood was a rarity in football; he had been at just the one club for his entire career. And what a career it was; spanning 20 years he had collected 8 League medals, 4 FA Cup medals, 2 League Cups and a Champions League. He had accumulated 68 England caps scoring just the one goal, which just happened to be the winner in the World Cup semi-final over arch-rivals Germany.

And here he was, sitting in a police cell while various faces came and looked at the window to gawp at him like a freak show. He rolled over to hide his face and tears, he was 36 and his football career was a distant memory. Now, his reputation would be destroyed and he was facing some serious jail time, and his life was heading the same way his career now was; down the toilet.

He heard the clink of the keys in the door and it swung open.

“Alright there Sammy? What the **** happened mate? Give us 5 minutes will ya mate? Nice one.”

He rolled over and saw Matt Bell; his friend, agent and lawyer standing in the door frame and in the process of handing the Custody Sargent a wad of cash. The copper turned and walked off down the hallway, his shoes echoing as he went back to his desk. The Knight in Shining armour stood grinning as he listened to the sounds disappear to ensure they were alone.

Sam stood up and walked over to his pal and opened his arms for a hug, but Matt’s face changed to thunder.

“You ****! You effing ****! What have you done? Danny’s put the word out you are dead for bringing the cops with you.”

Sam’s face fell and he looked confused, a bit like a dog being told off by an owner for crapping in his favourite shoes.

“What do you mean? I just turned up and they came from nowhere. Danny set me up?”

“Like he’d do them any favours and put himself even remotely near them, he’s public enemy number one. Listen, the Sarge is a big Liverpool fan so he’s prepared to let you off with a warning. He said you were his hero until you retired in the summer.”

“A warning??? For having a spare wheel full of cocaine? Really? I thought I was a goner, the lags in the nick would love to get their hands on a pretty boy like me.”

“No, you dinlo, they haven’t searched the car, they pulled you as they thought you were curb-crawling. The Sarge said it was obviously incorrect as you have a fit model girlfriend, so wouldn’t need to cruise for the tramps down the docks. So he’ll let you off with no paperwork to save you the embarrassment, but we need to get out of here fast and before they ask too many questions.”

Sam went misty eyed as he thought of his glorious Kate. She was a beauty all right, and he had snapped her up early when she was just 16. He was 10 years older, but she was instantly drawn into the WAG life-style and grew into a top model and now had her own clothing range. He loved her more than anything. He came back into the world as Matt grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to freedom.

He looked back at his cell and wondered if he was ready to face the world after his ordeal, but pulled himself together when he realised he could not have been incarcerated for more than an hour. They nervously got his car from the pound and sat nearby and talked.

“In there you said Danny thought I’d stitched him up and put a hit out on me. That was some sort of joke right?”

“No mate, he was livid. Offered me 50 large to do you in your cell.”

“But we’ve been mates since we were kids? He must know I’m not a grass? I’ve been doing favours for him and his family for years; they are like my own flesh and blood.”

“Maybe you should go away for a while, until it calms down a bit? New York Red Bulls have been in touch to see if you fancy joining them for a season. They have just hired Brazilian World Cup winning manager Neto, and he has no cash to spend so wants to bring in some ageing stars to get the club their first League win. His star defender Jaime Sandoval got injured in their first friendly so he urgently needs a central defender and compared to the Muppets in the MLS you've still got star quality.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Kate and the kids.”

“Well get round and talk to her fast as Shaun popped round there tonight while you were doing that job for him.”

He had been mates with the Williams twins since school, but he knew they were capable of hurting his family if they thought he had grassed them up and he was filled with panic at the thought of his family held hostage. Shaun was older and the brains of the two, but Danny was bigger and the brawn. They worked as club bouncers and were heavily connected in the Liverpool underground. This was dangerous water to be in, and he had to ensure his family were safe from drowning.

He drove the car home in a panic and locked it in the garage and snuck into the house. It was dark and he felt his way up the stairs like he was blind, closing his eyes to try and give himself an extra sensory advantage. He peaked into his kid’s bedroom and he had an overwhelming urge to give them a kiss so crept towards them.

The shriek was heard all over the house and the pain in the voice was unmistakable. At the sight of the blood Sam fell to his knees and wept.

Chapter 3

Kate came running at the screech of the variety that you didn’t get dressed for.

She arrived with a panic but looked with disgust at her husband sat on the floor rocking back and forth holding a Lego piece in his hand. The kids were joining him in crying and she grabbed a towel to cover her modesty, suddenly aware of her nakedness.

Sam looked up and blinked away the tears while looking at the genitalia in his face. It was unfortunate height placing and the impressively sized manhood belonged to a very muscular body. He tried to comprehend why there was a naked man in his house, standing next to his wife. He was trying to understand why they both seemed to have come from their marital bedroom when his trance was broken by words directed at him.

“What are you doing here? We thought you were in the cells for the night at least? Why did you wake the bloody kids up shrieking like that?”

Sam was still opened mouthed which was ill-timed as the throbbing man-cucumber was close by. He was unsure why he was so transfixed, and put it down to shock. Suddenly the adrenalin kicked in and he stood up in a rage and his 6ft 2 inch frame ominously filled the room.

“Shaun? What the f………..”

“Sorry for you to find out this way mate, but we weren’t expecting you back. How did you get bail with all that Coke?”

“Sorry. Find out what?”

“Ummmm…….. That I’ve been banging your wife for years? In fact, we are pretty certain the youngest is mine.”

Sam considered the words, and who was saying them. It was a certain type of man who openly admitted things like that, one who was positive that no retaliation was coming. Suddenly it all made sense; he was sent on these jobs to get him out on the house. How could he be so foolish? Still, he held his anger in check as handling this badly would not end well for him. He would have to be smart and play it cool; the wrong move would be a death sentence.

He looked at his wife who he loved more than life itself, and she just bit her lip embarrassed. He looked at his kids and their unusually blonde hair, and looked back at his best friend once more. He regretted the head-butt before he even registered the connection and sound of the nose breaking.

There’s only one thing more bizarre than two men wrestling on the ground when they are both obviously trying not to hurt each other, reminiscent of their school day scraps. And that is if one is naked. Kate saw parts of Shaun that she hadn’t seen before, and she put her hands in places unsanitary in trying to prise them apart. As her towel fell off she laughed out loud due to the absurdity of the situation, and she felt Shaun go hard as she grappled to get in the middle of them to keep them apart. Sam felt it bounce off his arm and it was all he needed to jump away.

“Get that ****ing thing away from me you Judas! All the things I have done for you. And you, you ungrateful bitch, I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me!”

The two adulterers bowed their heads like naughty teenagers, and Sam instinctively headed to pick up his crying youngest son. He held him protectively and sniffed his hair, taking comfort in the familiar smell of his shampoo. He stopped when he comprehended the wave of blonde staring back and put him back in his cot, feeling dirty at touching the potential evidence of his wife's infidelity.

Everything he knew and loved in his life was gone in that instant of the admission of guilt, provoking questions who fathered his children and his very existence. His best mate and wife, the two people that meant most to him in his world, shattering his idyllic life in a single sentence. Uttering the words took seconds, analysing them was taking far longer.

"How long's it being going on for? I need to know. How many times? In my bed? In my bed! Do you love each other? Actually I don't want to know. You are dead to me."

He held his hand up to illustrate his point, his head filled with thoughts, images and more questions. He looked at his kids then back to his wife, still looking radiant despite the situation. He realised it was a post-coital sex glow and the epiphany hit him hard and he felt weak at the knees.

He felt an overwhelming urge to get out of there, and this strong desire for head space forced him to push past the duo and to his the car. He found his phone and failed the pin-code twice due to his shaky and sweaty hands, before finally making the call.

“Matt? That New York deal? Yeah I’ll take it. I’m on my way to the airport now and will get the next flight out, okay?”

Quite the concept. And a great start. Carry on!

As short stories go this one seems to be turning out quite brilliantly. Can't wait to read more.

Chapter 4

48 hours later Sam was sitting red-eyed at the press conference announcing the clubs new signings. Most in attendance put his appearance down to the night-flight and jet-lag, but the more observant might have guessed it looked like he had been crying non-stop since he left. He told the air-crew it was an allergic reaction to the blanket, and they pretended to believe him and slipped him some extra Vodka's. He took some Valium to help himself sleep but it didn't stop the nightmares of being chased by giant pickled Gherkins. He missed his wife and kids, and would have given every one of his football medals back to rewind time to change things.

He was brought back to the room from his day-dream by a slap on the back. His new manager, the Brazilian legend Neto was talking in a thick accent of his excitement about his new experienced signings. He introduced them individually, proudly regaling their level of International performance and previous history.

He took delight in presenting his fellow South American, the unflappable veteran Argentinean striker Gustavo Aveldano, who was 35 years old and 23 goals in 24 caps.

Flashbulbs went off as the press took pictures to sell papers, and they were disappointed when the player indicated he didn’t speak English and was unable to answer their questions.

Next he unveiled the towering central defender Sam Heywood, who was 36 years old and had 68 England caps.

They were welcomed and the gathered press asked him if he was friends with LA Galaxy's English Global Superstar Thomas Brookfield.

"Ummm, well we played together for England but he was a Man U boy. Being a Scouser we didn't really talk outside of the squad get togethers."

"And what about your lovely wife Kate? Is she good friends with Becky Brookfield, the former singer-turned-model? Are you a fan of her band the Space Girls?"

"I think they know each other well yeah, but I'm not a fan of their music. Are we going to talk about football or not?"

"Okay then, are you a fan of the Giants or the Jets?"

Sam exhaled deeply.

"Soccer then."

"Are you pleased to be at the New York Red Bulls?"

"Of course, there are some great players here; Matthieu Pereira the French Striker has 88 caps for France. I know him from his Arsenal days. Rade Ilincic the Serb is a great midfielder, and I know ex-Chelsea striker Aveldano well too. I hear he's to be my away game room mate so happy about that."

"Yeah, he's pretty dangerous in the end zone."

"Huh?"

"He's a real danger when he's on the doorstep, chicken winging his way into the real estate, looking for some wheels to release the upload."

"What? Wow, this is like living in a foreign country pal."

"And you, we know you are well known for your Bulldogging."

"Well my mate Stan took me once but I wasn't that keen, would rather be at home with the wife to be honest. Found in all a bit weird hanging round car parks like that."

Connor was still scratching his head at the questions when Gustavo Aveldano joined him afterwards, greeted him like an old friend and demanded that he join him for a drink at the hotel bar. They had never played against each other in the past as they keep missing it through various injuries and suspensions, and they laughed about that fact as it meant they had hardly spoken.

“Sam, I hate these things. I love the ‘no hablo ingles’ approach.”

"Hola Gus, how's the nose?"

He rubbed his nostril with his finger and it was greeted by a big laugh due to his "mystery injury" that ruled him out for 6 months. Clubs don't have to announce drugs bans, and some players preferred to appear injured rather admit testing positive for illegal narcotics.

"I'm Argentinian not Colombian my friend, and rumour has it that you were dabbled a bit yourself."

"Never, I was all about the football amigo!"

They went for a drink and laughed and joked about past experiences, and for the first time Sam felt settled and that he could make a life here. He told his new friend a story about a former team mate's affair with the baby sitter, and about a wild Fancy Dress Christmas party they once had where they invited some willing local girls.

"That's nothing Sam, my friend told me a story that will make you laugh. He was in Dubai and this English international was sun-bathing by the pool and having a siesta. Now this guy’s wife is a top model but a right prostituta si? Rumour was she was having an affair with the player's best friend, this poor hombre. So she beckoned my good looking amigo over and they done it in the pool while he sleep on the side man. He never told me who that was, but she loved to chupa pija."

As Gus motioned sucking an invisible ice-lolly Sam laughed blissfully not connecting the fact that he had taken his wife to Dubai for a short break and was prone to dozing in the heat. They had a few more drinks and went back to their respective hotel rooms. Sam felt like he could sleep for a week, but pre-season was already under way and he had only one day off before training and he still had to make a decision where to live in the fair city.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and not long after he dreamed of the gherkins floating in swimming pools, chasing him in his inflatable lilo.

I'm really enjoying this character development. Do please keep this going.

I'm really enjoying this character development. Do please keep this going.

Thanks ttl. Works been a bit busy so haven't had much time. Hope to finish this and pick up the other one again soon and it was easier when I was obsessively writing every night.

Your encouragement spurs me on.

I love the imagery of him being chased by gherkins.

Your writing is pretty damn good I must say.

Thanks Ben, I do try.

Chapter 5

"Daddy!"

Sam Heywood's smile filled the iPad screen as his kids were with him for the first time in over a month, albeit through facetime technology. The kids giggled and waved back at him, pulling goofy faces. In the background he could hear their mother telling them off, and his jealous subconscious wondered if anyone else was there. He missed them terribly, their questionable paternity aside.

"Are you being good boys?"

"Yeeessssssss," They chimed together, "we miss you and so does Mummy. She cries sometimes but Uncle Shaun comforts her."

Sam clenched his jaw at the mention of the once best mate who had been shagging his wife for God knows how long.

"Is he there now? I'd like to talk to him?"

"No, it's just us and Mummy. When you coming home? We want you home."

His felt his chest tighten and his throat close, his voice breaking as he made the false promise.

"Soon boys, soon."

As they cheered he felt his heart sink at their joy of an event that was not happening in their time-scales. To them, soon meant tomorrow, and he hated himself as he pictured them looking for him after they woke up. They chatted about their toys and games, and he yearned to be watching them play and listening to their excited chatter, loathing himself for the time he wasted in their company as he was too busy watching Sky Sports News.

The call ended with more empty promises and he disconnected and sat back. It did not have the effect he wanted; he was more down than when he made the decision to call. He hadn't seen them for what felt like an eternity, but it was only six weeks and he had many months to go. In that period he came off the bench to play his first friendly like a headless chicken due to the personal life distraction, started and scored in the next, but was subsequently dropped due to accusations of a bad attitude which was really just his transition period. He sat on the bench for the next 5 friendly matches, until he got another more chance. He put every effort in, but was still off the pace and didn't have a great game.

Earlier that day his manager had told him he had once last chance to prove himself in the final friendly game and he blew it; he lasted just 24 minutes of the match. He was adamant it wasn't his fault; the opposition striker had wound him up by asking where his wife was and who she was with. In hindsight he was pretty certain the player did it all to markers, but in this case it hit a nerve. So he hit one back, with his elbow in the bloke's face. His manager was livid at half time and told him he expected more from his experienced players, and was going to terminate his contract.

Luckily for him his replacement was injured in the same match so he was needed for the opening league game, and he also held weight with the marketing department as a well-known name. So here he was, sat in his hotel room after a dismal pre-season with not even 180 minutes of game time and a manager who didn't rate him. He did the only thing he could think off and hit the hotel bar.

Gus was already there, bookended by two lovely ladies with obviously fake breasts and smiles. On arrival it was evident their interest in him was also false as they flirted to get another free round, then promptly disappeared.

"Anda a la concha de tu madre!" he shouted after them and they looked back and waved obliviously to the insult as he laughed loudly at their expense, evidently drunk. He play-punched his room-mate on the arm and it stung due to miss-judgement, but both ignored the aggressiveness underlying it.

"Beetches Amigo, come and make out they are interested then leave. TROLA's!!!"

Sam shrugged and got a drink in, and was pleased it was the pretty young barmaid serving him.

"Hello Mr Heywood sir, would you like a drink? You can have anything you like"

He thought he saw a hint of a suggestive smile, and ordered a mineral water and a Malbec for his companion, who although clearly had enough was required to avoid drinking alone. He added it to his room-tab, compliments of their employers while they were meant to be looking for somewhere to stay. In truth neither was in a rush to leave as it meant self-sufficiency in own cooking, cleaning and rent paying. And they had not needed to do those for a long time.

He tried to have an intelligent conversation with his only friend in New York, but he was in no fit state so he was forced to take him up to his room to sleep it off. He wondered how any professional player could do that on the eve of the opening day on a season. He left him dialling room service for an escort with a shake of his head, even in the knowledge of being on the bench tomorrow it was the worst type of match-preparation.

Unable to stand the confines of his room he went back to the bar and it had emptied out, with just the barmaid remaining tidying up.

"Any chance of one more Helena? I'm wide awake and don't fancy being alone."

"Of course Mr Heywood, another water or will you join me in a proper drink?"

Unlike his friend, Sam was destined to start so declined the offer and stuck to the soft drink. His personal pride meant he didn't want to give anything less than 100% in his first proper match, and would avoid anything that might be detrimental. He did however take the advantage to share some of his feelings about his wife and kids, safe under the sanctuary of the vow of silence taken by bar staff and their patrons’ confessions. At least he hoped that was the case as he didn't want his stories all over the internet.

"Bugger. It's priests isn't it?"

"What?"

"Doesn't matter, done now. I best go to bed, important game tomorrow. See you later."

Helena opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself and turned away to put the chairs on the tables. By the time she looked back he was gone and she was alone in the bar, the damp cloth in her hand generated a trickle she was aware of but didn't wipe away. She stood for a few minutes deep in thought and impulse but regained composure and continued cleaning, cursing herself for almost risking her well-tipped job, but muttered to herself.

"Why did you have to walk into my bar Mr Sam Heywood?"

| #  | Date      | C. | Opposition               | Inf.   | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 9. | 12.3.2011 |    | AAC Eagles               | off 24 | 3                 | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 91 | 6.9|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 8. | 6.3.2011  |    | Fort Lauderdale Strikers |        | 12                | 10 | 0  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 3  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 68 | 6.9|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 7. | 26.2.2011 |    | Kutis FC                 |        | Not selected      |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 6. | 15.2.2011 |    | FC Dallas Jrs            |        | Unused substitute |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 5. | 11.2.2011 |    | Sparta Prague            |        | Unused substitute |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 4. | 7.2.2011  |    | FC RB Salzburg           |        | Unused substitute |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 3. | 4.2.2011  |    | Boca                     |        | Not selected      |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 2. | 2.2.2011  |    | River                    |        | 19                | 14 | 0  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 10 | 6  | 3  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 56 | 7.5| 1  | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 1. | 31.1.2011 |    | Estudiantes (LP)         | on 50  | 8                 | 5  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 84 | 6.0|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

Chapter 6

Neto had won the World Cup with his native Brazil, and he looked at the players in front of him. He was born with a football at his feet and it stayed there as he ran on the streets of Osasco. He lit up Sao Paulo's Morumbi Stadium, before taking Europe by storm and dominating for Real Madrid as a midfield general. He was a legend in the game but all he saw in front of him where a bunch of Mercenaries here for one last pay day, mixed in with some inexperienced American lads.

All except for his Englishman Sam Heywood, who he could not figure out his reasons for joining as he didn't even negotiate his wages like the others. Despite a mixed pre-season he was his only option as Captain, so he handed him the armband at the start of his team-talk as a show of faith. He felt the Captaincy might give him the focus he needed and despite the initial shock, he seemed to grow a foot with pride as the honour sunk in.

The manager gave them a team-talk and sent them out on the pitch, where Gus came off the bench begrudgingly due to his heavy legs but performed well in the 3-1 home win. It was a solid start, and the 20'887 fans gave Sam a new experience, showing a different sort of passion to the fans he was used to.

The club started well, winning 6 of their first 7, and he was eager for the trip to Los Angeles to face Thomas Brookfield's LA Galaxy. The England Legend was a hero to the popular side, and his team also featured the record Irish scorer John Brennan, who would be a handful to keep quiet.

Heywood had scored his first goal against Philadelphia, but the star in the early games had been his friend Gus with 6 goals in 6 starts, firing them to the top of the Eastern Conference. Confidence was high, but their opponents were a strong club side who would be hard to beat.

The two ex-England stars shook hands and exchanged club banners in the centre circle in front of a host of journalists. They joked that it was never like this when they faced each other in the infamous North-West Derby in their past, and Sam wondered how Thomas had seemingly got more famous even as he declined as a footballer.

The match was one to forget for the Bulls, losing 3-0 despite playing well. The Irishman Brennan grabbing a double and was clearly too good for Sam's ageing legs. At the final whistle Thomas came up to shake his hand.

"Unlucky Sam, you played well. Thought you deserved a draw. Are you heading back to New York tonight? If not do you want to stay at Brookfield Manor? Becky has her friend over from England so we would love you there to make it feel like home for once? We plan to have a proper cup of tea and roast dinner, just like the old days."

They shook hands but the defender politely declined the offer. The bloke was nice but he was still a ****ing Manc after all.

| #  | Date      | C. | Opposition               | Inf.   | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 17.| 7.5.2011  |    | Los Angeles              |        | 18                | 12 | 0  | 5  | 5  | 0  | 6  | 5  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 78 | 6.1|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 16.| 30.4.2011 |    | Sporting Kansas City     |        | 28                | 22 | 0  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 4  | 4  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 81 | 7.4|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 15.| 21.4.2011 |    | D.C. United              |        | 13                | 7  | 0  | 3  | 3  | 1  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 5  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 75 | 7.5|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 14.| 16.4.2011 |    | San Jose                 |        | 29                | 24 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 1  | 5  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 6  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 83 | 6.8|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 13.| 9.4.2011  |    | Philadelphia             |        | 17                | 10 | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 4  | 2  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 81 | 7.6| 1  | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 12.| 2.4.2011  |    | Houston                  |        | 26                | 15 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 7  | 7  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 13 | 0  | 0  | 2  | 2  | 74 | 7.6|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 11.| 23.3.2011 |    | Columbus                 |        | 29                | 22 | 0  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 7  | 7  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 7  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 69 | 6.8|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 10.| 19.3.2011 |    | Seattle                  |        | 12                | 8  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 77 | 6.9|    | 
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

mistahc an excellent short story and a very easy read.

thanks Mark, it's only going to a short one more about the characters than the football. I'm not sure how "short story" is defined, but already have an ending mentally written and not enjoying the save game so not really playing it. Have little motivation about the matches and results to be honest.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7

The weekly facetime call home was the highlight of his week, but Sam's days were monotonous; training, walk in Central Park, sight-seeing, then drinking in the bar either with Gus or alone. His Argentinian playboy friend continued to leave him to bed random women, but it meant he had time to talk to Helena the barmaid, the only woman who truly seemed to understand him. And she seemed an active listener, which made a rare change.

Even after 6 months he still missed his wife and kids, and each call he'd long for Kate to show her face or say hello. One week he got his wish.

"Bye kids, be good and see you soon."

"Sam? Sam! Wait......."

"Kate? Is that you?"

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her beautiful face, and did back-flips as she leaned forward and he saw down her top. A distant memory of her perfume filled his nostrils and he felt himself twitch in the nether regions.

"Sam, we need to talk...."

"Yes? What is it?"

His eager thoughts flitted to a joyous reunion, complete with a marathon make-up sex session. He was planning arranging a baby-sitter for 24 hours when she broke his train of thought.

"You've had a letter from the airport complaining that your car has been parked there for 6 months now and overdue. I'm not paying for the fee's, YOU need to. I'm not having the bailiffs round here on account of you. Sort it out!"

"Oh, is that it?"

"Yes, stop being such a ****head and arrange for it to be picked up or something."

"Okay, okay. Can't Shaun do it?"

"No, he's too busy so I'm not going to ask him. You sort it out."

"Okay. Kate? ummmm.... I love you?"

The solitary finger told him all he needed to know, she wasn't known for her charm. He thought about what he wanted out of his life and made a quick call and paid the parking fee until the season was over.

More months past and the football was mixed. The team had a bad run but managed to pull out of it after just 2 wins in 7 and in 4th place, to bounce back with 3 straight winds to top the table again. More importantly Sam was enjoying his football and his interactions with Helena, but knew he was on the decline as a footballer. The club didn't seem to want to offer him a new contract, instead choosing to sign younger players who could play his position. He couldn't help consider retiring and a return to England and to his wife and kids, if it was ever a possibility.

Home is where the heart is, and he was known for wearing his heart on his sleeve. But he had to be honest with himself, did he want his wife back and were the kids even his? He knew he loved them and felt like their father, but every time he looked at them he saw his wife's infidelity and his best mate’s knife in his back. But it wasn’t their fault, and he couldn’t take it out on them.

There was some good news though, as big rivals LA Galaxy lost to a 3-1 defeat to non-league Orlando City in the US Cup Quarter Final. A Cup win looked like a real possibility now, and he loved the idea of ending his career on a high.

 | #  | Date      | C. | Opposition           | Inf.  | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 31.| 12.7.2011 |    | Charleston Battery   |       | 23                | 18 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 5  | 5  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 73 | 7.0|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 30.| 9.7.2011  |    | D.C. United          | on 45 | 7                 | 2  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 3  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 73 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 29.| 6.7.2011  |    | Toronto FC           |       | 38                | 30 | 0  | 3  | 3  | 0  | 5  | 4  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 64 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 28.| 2.7.2011  |    | San Jose             |       | 23                | 15 | 0  | 3  | 1  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 62 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 27.| 29.6.2011 |    | Charlotte Eagles     |       | 25                | 21 | 1  | 2  | 2  | 1  | 8  | 4  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 5  | 0  | 0  | 3  | 1  | 71 | 7.2|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 26.| 25.6.2011 |    | Chicago              |       | Unused substitute |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 25.| 23.6.2011 |    | Seattle              |       | 25                | 15 | 0  | 5  | 4  | 1  | 7  | 6  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 9  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 64 | 7.5|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 24.| 19.6.2011 |    | Portland             |       | 22                | 10 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 8  | 5  | 3  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 3  | 1  | 66 | 6.6|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 23.| 15.6.2011 |    | Columbus             |       | 25                | 16 | 0  | 1  | 1  | 1  | 7  | 5  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 80 | 6.2|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 22.| 11.6.2011 |    | New England          |       | 39                | 33 | 0  | 3  | 2  | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 82 | 6.7|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 21.| 1.6.2011  |    | Colorado             |       | 38                | 23 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 3  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 8  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 2  | 67 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 20. | 28.5.2011 |    | Vancouver            |       | 40                | 22 | 1  | 4  | 4  | 0  | 8  | 8  | 5  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 8  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 67 | 7.4|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 19. | 21.5.2011 |    | Houston              |       | 18                | 10 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 11 | 8  | 5  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 73 | 6.2|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 18. | 15.5.2011 |    | Chivas USA           |       | 24                | 20 | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 3  | 1  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 85 | 7.2|    | 
| 

thanks Mark, it's only going to a short one more about the characters than the football. I'm not sure how "short story" is defined, but already have an ending mentally written and not enjoying the save game so not really playing it. Have little motivation about the matches and results to be honest.

Then shy away from them. That's my advice. You've got some super characters here and you don't necessarily need to write about every match.

You're a bit beyond the traditional definition of short story here but you've got something potentially better here. You have the beginnings of a sequel.

Think of it (or maybe you already have). Sam goes to management and renews his old acquaintances, and enemies. Maybe he tries to get his life back on track. Maybe he tailspins. Maybe it affects results. Maybe ...

This is what character development gives you. It gives you options.

Then shy away from them. That's my advice. You've got some super characters here and you don't necessarily need to write about every match.

You're a bit beyond the traditional definition of short story here but you've got something potentially better here. You have the beginnings of a sequel.

Think of it (or maybe you already have). Sam goes to management and renews his old acquaintances, and enemies. Maybe he tries to get his life back on track. Maybe he tailspins. Maybe it affects results. Maybe ...

This is what character development gives you. It gives you options.

Too right. Reading this makes me think that there could be a compelling story that stretches beyond Sam's playing days.

Go where your mind takes you. There's plenty of scope for where this could go.

actually never crossed my mind to have him as a manager later as it happens, not a bad idea that. It would fit nicely with my planned ending.

Chapter 8

Sam was sat on the barstool, feet interlocked with the metal bar that ran along the floor at ankle level. He was admiring Helena's ample cleavage as she was stocking the fridges below, the cool breeze was giving a hint of stiffness through the white blouse and he was trying to guess the size, shape and colour of her nipples. Sam smacked his lips noisily and she looked up and smiled innocently. He tried to cover the sound by drumming a tune on his cheeks.

"Play it again Sam. I can't believe you are still in this hotel after 5 months Mr Heywood, why haven't you got yourself an apartment yet?" she gently teased.

"Because they only pay me $5000 a week and that doesn't get me any better than here, and the club are footing this bill for my stay. Could be worse, Gus is still here too and he's on ten times as much and not even playing. He's banned for 6 months for drugs again."

"He told me he had a calf strain?"

"Groin strain more like. He was partying all night with some girls and got done on a random check the next day. Shame really as he had scored 8 goals in 15 games before that, and was just hitting top form. Bit stupid if you ask me."

The barmaid looked round at the Argentinian drinking Champagne with some young ladies in the corner booth, and he was definitely enjoying himself. Was he really stupid? There were worse ways to earn her yearly salary each week. She screwed up her nose at the women who flirted outrageously to get free drinks, and she fully expected the three of them to go up to his room later. She looked back at the British lad with the strange accent and smiled again. She liked him, and felt sorry for him as he seemed lonely and seemed to be disinterested in joining his friend's partying. She knew most of his problems and understood why.

"Spoke to your kids today?"

"I do it early morning due to the time-zones, so I get them all energetic in the afternoon playtime. I like to see them happy."

"Lovely. Bet you miss them."

Sam stared into space and it was evident that he did, and he was right then at her prompt. He sighed and she thought she saw a tear in his eyes.

"A penny for them?"

"Huh?"

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh, just thinking about my kids."

"Well I know how to cure that, I'm finishing in a minute and how about you join me for a drink somewhere else? I was planning on going to an Irish bar with some friends. That must just be like home for you, you do sound a bit Irish actually. C'mon, it might make you feel better?"

She tried to purr suggestively but her advances were shot down.

"I'll be alright thanks; I've got training in the morning. Thanks anyway though. See you later."

And with that he hopped up and headed off to his room. Helena looked at her cleavage in the bar mirror and lifted them up and squeezed them together to boost the cup size. She did a passable Marilyn Monroe pout and whispered in a poor Irish accent 'Top of the morning to you Mr Heywood', and blew a kiss.

"Sorry, forgot my jacket. I'm from Liverpool, I suppose the accent's not a million miles away as Dublin is close and a lot of the Paddy's came over for work. Probably why the Scouse is quite thick like. It's where the Beatles are from? Lennon was shot in New York."

He had appeared out of nowhere and she spun round surprised and embarrassed and hoped he didn't hear what she said. Her mouth was open but despite her best efforts no words came out. Sam held up the jacket triumphantly.

"Got it, see you tomorrow. Night."

Sam pushed the button for the elevator and was urging it to arrive quickly, resisting temptation to look back towards the bar area. He could hear heels on the marble growing louder behind him, and it made his heart beat quicker. The bell tinged and he ran inside and pushed the button repeatedly in an attempt to make the doors shut quicker, and he relaxed as he became enclosed in the metal tomb. From nowhere a foot shot out and blocked the sensors and the lobby re-appeared into view again.

"Didn't you hear me coming? Why didn't you hold the door for me young man? 8th floor if you don't mind."

Sam mumbled something incoherently, and realised how much he did wish it was Helena and not another guest. He thought about going back to the bar again to see if he could catch her before she left for the night, but decided to settle on the Adult channel and a good sleep. He could do without any more complications in his life right now, and even though she seemed nice, no doubt she would cheat on him too.

Not long later with a tissue in hand, he felt asleep in a orgasm-induced coma, moments away from a dream of a line of Gherkins dancing to Riverdance.

He woke excitedly like a kid at Christmas and reached for the iPad to face-timed the kids, planning his day ahead as it tried to connect. The face that appeared was not expected or welcome.

"Long time, no speak Sam."

Shaun looked menacing even with a 3000 mile distance between them. His stubble looked like he hadn’t shaved for a few days, so with his close cropped hair style made his head look upside down.

"What are you doing in my house you *****?"

"That's no way to greet an old friend. Kate and the kids are just out at the minute, and they asked me to answer so you didn't wonder where they are. Gives us time to have a little chat doesn't it."

"Got nothing to say to you."

"Well I've got something to say to you. Me and Danny are thinking we could extend the family business, and thought you could help out. Danny is thinking about heading out there to establish some business connections, and we thought you could show him around. The way we see it you owe us for losing that Coke on our last business deal."

"And what have I lost mate? My wife, my kids, my dignity, my confidence! Screw you and screw her."

"I already did pal."

"Oh **** you!"

He terminated the call and paced up and down in anger, the iPad beeped as the call was returned and he chose to ignore it. His temper was high and he needed to calm down, so went for a shower.

Ten minutes later he was in control and had a towel wrapped around his torso, and back in the room. The iPad lit up again and the image caught his eye so he looked inquisitively at the display. The image shook him to the core as the psycho was making motions simulating a knife across his throat, and had his kids on his lap waving and blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. He answered the call with trembling hands.

"Daddy! Uncle Shaun says that you are helping him with some business?"

Sam choked back the tears of fear. The two men locked eyes, one shone with power and control, and the other with a pure hatred.

"That's right kids; I'll do whatever Shaun wants me to do."

Ooh ooh! Flirty barmaid! Plot twist!

Blimey!

Chapter 9

Sam was distracted in the following games, with an endless anxiety on Danny's impending arrival. He felt a slave to his emotions, and constantly worried about his children's safety. He should have been enjoying his last Pay Day and the twilight of his career, instead he was beginning to hate every minute of it.

After the whistle in the game against Dallas his manager grabbed him as he jogged off.

"Are you good? You no play so good."

"I'm okay boss, just tired."

"Okay, well you can be excused for the friendly against América. Get some rest, and get out that bloody hotel for a change. Maybe go and see some of this beautiful country."

"Thanks Boss, that's not a bad idea."

Sam took the subway back to the hotel and looked at the adverts, and his eye was caught by Hawaii which looked inviting. He doubted that Danny and Shaun would find him there, and he was certain a week in Paradise would do him good. He entered the lobby whistling the theme tune to Hawaii-5-0, and waited for the lift. He planned to pack and head straight to the airport for the first flight, but something inside was stirring and he struggled to comprehend what he was yearning.

The elevator was taking a while and he pressed the button repeatedly in his nervousness and looked around him in agitation. He looked at his watch and it was 21:15, so he glanced over to see if Helena was working. A man at the bar looked familiar but he couldn't quite place him, but whoever he was he was making the barmaid laugh and it created some pangs of jealously. Sam looked back and the lift was still not moving and he pressed the button again and listened up the shaft, hearing the murmurs of a conversation echoing down. Someone was holding the doors open selfishly, and he headed for the stairs in frustration.

As he walked closer to the bar area he saw more of the man's body shape and features and stopped cold when the recognition set in. He hurried over to get a closer look.

"Mr Heywood! This man has the same funny accent as you! He says he's Prince William's cousin."

Sam found himself standing toe-to-toe with Danny Williams and was frozen in fear, his voice broke as he welcomed him.

"Danny boy, good to see you."

He out-stretched his hand for a shake but it was ignored. The big man just turned his head back and carried on the conversation.

"So, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I'll meet you after work for a few drinks then yeah? I'll show you the Crown Jewel's if you're lucky."

Helena giggled and looked over to Sam, she noted the look on his face and her expression changed.

"Ummmm, that's very sweet of you but I'm casually seeing someone."

"Your loss love. Right, get me two beers for me and my mate here and bring them over when they are ready."

He put his big arm round Sam and took him over to the corner booth for privacy.

"Right, I'm here on the run. That **** who I glassed was prepared to give evidence so I buried him. I'm just laying low, doing some business, and having a little holiday. So call me Danny Anger from now on to match my fake ID, right? You are going to put me up, show me around, and I'll have some freebies for the footy while you're at it. But you need to clear off when I bang that sort behind the bar. And if you don't do what I want, Shaun will do your kids. Capiche?"

Sam nodded meekly, and silently plotted.

"Good, cos you don't mess with Mr D Anger. Danger! Geddit? Ahhhhhh here she comes! Oh love I don't know if it's you or the beer I want to taste first."

Helena's cheeks went bright red and she placed the drinks on the table and hurried off to his distasteful compliments of her fanny. She needed the job and slime-balls were normal but this one gave her the creeps, and she struggled to understand how he was friends with the quiet man who drank only water normally. She would be forced to ask the duty manager to cover her later so she could slip out un-harassed.

After a few drinks the men headed upstairs and into his room. Danny pushed his way past and jumped onto the bed, giving Sam no option but to take the sofa. His feet dangled off the end and it was uncomfortably too short, but it at least gave him time to think in his insomnia. Thoughts and fears ran through his mind before he finally dozed off.

"He's BIG, he's RED, his feet hang out the BED!"

Sam awoke to a sharp kick and the horror set in that it wasn't a dream but reality; he was babysitting a psychopath.

"Get up Princess, you are showing me the sights. And we're having a stop off in Little Italy to meet Marco Cecconi, the head of the Cecconi family. Look tough yeah, these are the big boys."

| #  | Date      | C. | Opposition           | Inf.  | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 35.| 31.7.2011 |    | América (MEX)        |       | Not selected      |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 34.| 23.7.2011 |    | FC Dallas            |       | 34                | 25 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 4  | 4  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 7  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 73 | 7.1|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 33.| 20.7.2011 |    | Colorado             |       | Unused substitute |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 32.| 16.7.2011 |    | Chivas USA           |       | 15                | 11 | 0  | 3  | 2  | 0  | 2  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 71 | 6.9|    | 

Continues to be solid work. But for the record, it's "a penny for your thoughts" over here too.

I knew this was happen the minute I saw you were a Yank :-)

Do you live in New York?

Yes - They say it everywhere else.

No - They say it in New York.

Lazy research on my part.

LOL .. no. I don't live in New York. I found in my own research that English and British idioms can be very tricky and I get called on them when I miss. My expectation for myself is very high and I'm glad to see yours is for you as well.

It's a tricky one. I just read "The Camp" by Greg Hair, one of the most brilliant stories I've read in a while (only rread it because it was cheap on Amazon Kindle), but if I could pick ONE galling fault and feel crap for saying it; it was hearing the participants (jews/nazis in ww2 concentration camp setting) talking in very 'Americanism' dialogue. Subtle, but a minefield. English in one area is not English in another. Skill in itself? His 'translation' of German speech changed to American speech was just 0.1% down turn on a mad fantastic story which is my bad, not the authors....and who am I to criticise.

Sorry to interrupt, remains blinding read mistahc.

Context and setting is important as well. I can understand the Americanism in this story because, well, it's set in America.

I wouldn't know an Americanism if it jumped up and bit me on the fanny.

Chapter 10

Sam was lying on the beach in Hawaii, the children's giggles and sounds of the waves breaking and running up the beach soothed him, and he was at peace. It was paradise, and he soaked up the warmth of the sunshine on his skin, willing its energy into his very soul. He heard laughter and opened his eyes, and struggled to acclimatise to the brightness but could just make out the silhouetted figure of a woman. They smiled at each with love and his heart confirmed the presence of his soul-mate.

"Come on, it's our stop."

Sam was taken kicking and screaming out of his Elysium, and suddenly he was on the Subway being man-handled by Danny and he dragged him off the carriage and onto the platform. The sign said 'Canal Street' and they were in lower Manhattan and were heading to Little Italy, home of the notorious Cecconi Crime family.

"Bit different to the Canal Street in Manchester eh?"

"Let's just get this over with, people know me round here and I don't want to get recognised. I'm the Captain of the city football team, not bloody Raging Bull."

"Come along, you just need to look hard, I'll do the talking."

They arrived at their destination and were patted down before entering the dark restaurant, and then beckoned over to the corner booth. The big Sicilian sat at the head of the table, and he offered them a slice of the Pizza in front of him.

"It's the best in town, all the celebs come here to try my Nonno Giuseppe's famous recipe. So, Danny is it? My boys tell me you are the head of a crime family back in Liverpool?"

Sam tried to hide a giggle and the self-professed Scouse Mafia glared at him. Marco looked his way.

"And who might you be, you look familiar?"

"Joey Jo-Jo Junior Shabadoo at your service."

"Wise guy huh? That's the worst name I've ever heard."

Danny jabbed his friend in the ribs and sent him off to wait at the bar, where he ordered a beer to pass the time. Two old men at the bar were talking soccer.

"New York Red Bulls? Pah, not an Italian at the club so I wouldn't want to see them. Give me the Yankees any day of the week, oh Joe DiMaggio, will we ever see his like again?"

"What a player, better than Yogi Berra. Hey you, where have I seen you before?"

Sam just shrugged, tuned them out and tried to imagine the beach again. He nurtured the beer while he drifted in and out of the conversations around him, half-watching the TV showing either the Jets or the Giants, whichever one Eli Manning played for.

He jumped with a start as a big hand clamped on his shoulder.

"We're done, let's go."

The pair walked out and round the corner and Danny suddenly grabbed Sam menacingly.

"What the **** was that? I told you to look hard, not laugh like an idiot!"

"Sorry Danny must have been nerves. It was just it was like a movie and I couldn't take it seriously."

"Well sort it out or you know what will happen."

Sam's face darkened at the threatening gesture and he thought of his kids and wife. He pulled himself together and they got moving again, this time in a cab.

They mixed business and sight-seeing and soon found themselves looking on Liberty Island. The symbol of Freedom was poignant for Sam considering he had never felt so trapped in his life, and facing a life-time of being controlled gave him some courage to stand up for himself.

"I'm never going to be free from your grasp am I? You and your brother will always be around like a stain on my existence, ruining my life. You've been hanging on my coat tails for as long as I can remember, getting rich and growing fat off my talent. What do I have to do to be free?"

He looked up and stood firm in his defiance. He didn't see the punch coming until he started seeing stars, and then blackness.

When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see his manager in front of him, and even more perplexed as to why he was in the hospital.

"Sam, the Police said you were mugged, are you okay? Will you be fit for the trip to Salt Lake? How are you feeling?"

The big defender nodded his head gingerly and the words buzzed around his head.

"I'm okay, just feeling a bit cantankerous at the moment. And playing football is exactly what I need right now."

The away trip to Salt Lake was exactly the new focus he required, giving him the space he had been craving. He didn't play well but it was irrelevant, he had a rekindled a bit of happiness in himself with the two days away from his unwanted guest.

The cab dropped him off outside the hotel and he skipped in, hoping that his prayers had been answered and Danny was gone. From out behind the counter the Manager approached him and beckoned him into his office.

"Mr Heywood, this is a bit embarrassing but your room is in an absolute state. Now we put you up at the bequest of the club and you are a nice man and the staff like you, so consider this a warning. Next time I will have to tell the club. Please treat our hotel with respect or I'll have to ask you to vacate. Good day."

Sam was stunned, and wondered what the hell Danny had been up to. This was getting out of hand and he needed a drink, so he headed to the bar. He was pleased to see Helena was working and he gleefully saddled up and drummed the mahogany dramatically.

"I need a stiff one babe, no water for me."

She turned round and his heart skipped a beat. She looked visibly shaken and unless he was mistaken wearing too much foundation, almost as if she was trying to hide something. He thought he could see bruising, and she was wearing a neck-scarf covering her neck.

"Wha.......? What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

She turned her head away shyly and he caught sight of the focus of her gaze. In the corner Danny was sat cockily and glared over, he blew a kiss and Sam could hear soft sobs despite her best attempts at hiding it. She made her excuses and slid away, and she was replaced by the manager.

"Drinking again Mr Heywood? You have been charging a lot to the room over the last few days and it's probably why your room looks like you've been wrestling in it. Poor old Helena hasn't been the same since you called her up the other night to personally deliver your drinks at your request, and she did that in her own time as she had just finished. So what do you want then?"

Sam swallowed hard; he knew what he wanted all right.

 | #  | Date       | C. | Opposition           | Inf.  | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| 
| 36. | 6.8.2011   |    | Real Salt Lake       |       | 26                | 18 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 0  | 6  | 6  | 1  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 6  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 71 | 6.9|    | 

More fine work. As long as we're on Americanisms, Yankee fans wouldn't compare DiMaggio to Berra since they played different positions although they were contemporaries for a short time at the end of DiMag's career.

It'd be like saying "I like Wayne Rooney. He's a much better footballer than Rio Ferdinand." DiMaggio would have been compared to his successor, Mickey Mantle, especially by any Yankee fan over seventy.

But I love what you are doing. These characters are living. Well done!

Ironically I know that from watching too much Seinfeld, but he wasn't of Italian ancestry like Di Magio and Berra. ;-)

Chapter 11

Sam was sat with his only friend in New York in Gustavo Aveldano, and for once the party-mad Argentinian looked sombre as he listened intently. No-one paid them much attention, but the following scenes were recounted for days after. Out of no-where Gus flipped and went crazy, publicly verbal abusing his friend and hitting him over the head with a sofa cushion repeatedly.

Eye-witness reports said that the Englishman was aided by a surly muscular man who spoke in a similar accent, and the three men had to be pulled apart by hotel staff trying to defuse the situation. The police were called and the antagonists were interviewed, settling the matter with hand-shakes and slaps on the back. As Gus went off to his room, the two Scousers sat in their preferred corner table in privacy.

"I've no idea where that came from, one minute we were chatting like old mates, and the next his eyes went crazy and he started hitting me."

"Hardly call that hitting, more like a child's tantrum. You must have said something to upset him."

"I'm sure I didn't? Anyway, those cops were looking at your ID a bit intently, you might want to lay low for a while?"

"I'm good here, I like it in this hotel."

"What if Gus goes mental again and they check you out a bit more? Why did you pick a name like D.Anger anyway? It just sounds stupid, and no wonder they looked suspicious. How about I put you up in a hotel down the road?"

"I'm good, they won't catch me. I'm Teflon."

Ten minutes later the hotel manager walked over and interrupted the conversation politely.

"Excuse me Mr Heywood, sorry to disturb you. Mr Aveldano has reported a theft and I embarrassed to say he has accused you. The Police are here again and we need to search your room, please can you come with me? We really can't have this sort of thing in this hotel. I hope for your sake the room is not in a state again too."

Sam sighed and looked at Danny. His companion was not breaking his focused stare on his drink, so he glanced back to the manager.

"Fine, let's go. What's he saying I took anyway?"

The two men walked off and Danny was deep in thought. Within a few minutes he sunk what was left of his drink and casually walked out the front door. When the Police found his weapons, drugs and fake passports he wasn't taking the rap, he was going to lay low for a while.

While he was checking into a local cheap motel, Sam was answering the law enforcement's questions with his head in his hands, trying to hide the intense fear he was feeling.

A few days later a call came from Kate back in Liverpool to Sam's iPad.

"I wasn't too sure if you'd answer."

"Why wouldn't I?

"I miss you."

"uh-huh."

"I do, and so do the kids. The season is coming to an end, and I was speaking to Matt and he said some clubs in England have been watching you and are likely to offer you a contract. You could come home Sam, and we could start again. We could move down South. He said Brighton have been expressing interest and we could move there, it's near London and we could be a family again in time for Christmas. What do you think?"

"It's an option, but I'm not sure what I want. My head's a mess, and I've got the Police on my case on both sides of the Atlantic due to that bloody family. I'm in turmoil and I honestly thought this was my last season playing, so haven't even considered next season yet."

"Well let me know when you make your mind up. Love you."

Sam rubbed his hair and stroked his chin in thought. It was hard work being in love with someone who had sex with one of the infamous Williams brothers, but he knew where his rightful place was.

With some alone time Sam could concentrate on the football, determined to play well and earn the money needed to support his kids. The games came thick and fast in a 6 week period, and in that time Gus gave him no more trouble, and eventually Helena came back to work again. The surface showed normality was resuming, but explosive danger was bubbling below.

He knew Danny was gaining friends and followers, and he had heard rumours of a turf war beginning to develop with some of the other New York Mafia Families, backed up by the fire power of the Cecconi's. But he didn't care, he was just glad to be out of it for the time being.

 | #  | Date       | C. | Opposition           | Inf. | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls|
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 43.| 21.9.2011  |    | Real Salt Lake       |      | 25                | 14 | 0  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 7  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 72 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 42.| 17.9.2011  |    | FC Dallas            |      | 27                | 19 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 1  | 7  | 6  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 75 | 7.1|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 41. | 10.9.2011  |    | Vancouver            |      | 27                | 20 | 0  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 5  | 4  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 76 | 7.1|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 40. | 31.8.2011  |    | Colorado             |      | 17                | 14 | 0  | 4  | 3  | 0  | 5  | 4  | 2  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 5  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 76 | 7.2|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 39. | 28.8.2011  |    | Los Angeles          |      | 24                | 12 | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 4  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 8  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 2  | 82 | 7.4|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 38. | 20.8.2011  |    | New England          |      | 33                | 16 | 0  | 3  | 2  | 0  | 8  | 6  | 1  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 10 | 0  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 73 | 7.0|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 37. | 13.8.2011  |    | Chicago              |      | 20                | 13 | 0  | 2  | 2  | 1  | 4  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 79 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

Chapter 12

Sam was sat at the hotel bar chatting to Helena, which was his favourite New York hangout. He was passing the time watching her stock the fridges, the chill making her nipples like the Empire State, and his favourite sight-seeing activity.

He flirted casually, and he loved it when her smile lit up her face, her perfect teeth gleaming from the hint of gums. He mumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry, I missed that, what did you say?"

"I said 'you could hang your coat on those." He repeated, without thinking.

"Pardon me?"

"ummmm? You could reach the top shelf if you stood on your tip toes?"

"Good idea."

Sam had lucked out as she turned round and started on the top shelf, showing her cute behind. He swallowed hard and tried to remember when the last time his was intimate. He breathed out deeply.

"Fantastic."

"What is?" She was looking round her shoulder coyly, with a suggestive smile.

"The selection of alcohol, it is truly fantastic the selection. Makes you think of tropical places."

She laughed and carried on stocking the shelf while he continued admiring the view.

"I'd like to go to some of these places someday, never even left New York. Have you travelled much?"

"Me? Oh yes, been to some incredible places with Liverpool and England. You name it probably been there."

"And where was your favourite?"

He stopped and thought. All he could think of was his kids’ faces, and the sadness in their eyes despite the smiles in their face-time calls. He tried to imagine a beach, and all he could imagine was their laughter as they played.

"Home, with my family. I miss my wife, my kids, my parents, my friends, proper football stadium's with history like Anfield, a proper cup of tea, Sunday Roast, Marmite on toast, normal sized portions, the smell of the Docks, Heinz baked beans, the NHS, proper Fish and Chips, proper Bacon Sarnie, instant coffee, the things in shops being the bloody price it says, people saying sorry, BBC news, English accents, proper Pie and Mash, the British sense of humour and British comedy, and my house."

Helena was looking at him funny and he realised that he was crying. She cradled the side of his face in her hand and stoked him with her thumb. She began to speak but something from behind him caught her eye and her lip began to tremble and she stepped back. Sam looked at her confused and suddenly the mirror reflected the source of her obvious fear and he spun round on his chair.

"Danny!?! This is the second time you've entered this bar uninvited."

"Missed me lad?"

"Not really, forget your bill's when the bizzie's came and you scarpered and left me in the *****?"

Danny clenched his fists and Sam stood up to him, toe to toe, and he continued.

"I'm not scared of you pal, why the **** are you even here?"

"I need your help, for old time's sake. I've promised the Cecconi's that your team will lose to Portland in the next game and they are going large on it."

"Oh yeah, well **** you Dan! I've never given less than 100% and I'm not going to start now."

"Really? Well Shaun is at the standby back home, and I'm ready here. So what do you care about these days Sam? Your wife? Your kids? This slag here?"

"You leave her out of this; she's done nothing to you."

"How about it sweetheart? Ready for Round Two?"

He blew her a kiss, and she slid her back down the wall into a protective ball and held her knee's close, the tears streaking down her face. She shook her head and repeated a negative response over and over again. It dawned on Sam that she never consented and it made his blood boil. He grabbed the big man by the throat, his footballer's physique rippling with testosterone.

"You come near her again and I'll ****ing kill you. You hear me? I'll end you!"

Danny hit one low powerful jab to his side and he was on the floor gasping for breath, his bruised diaphragm stalling his lungs’ actions.

"Don't act the big man up against me son, I run an army that will do whatever I tell them too. Lose the game. Have a shocker, score an own goal, give away a penalty. I don't give a ****, just lose. Do it, or Shaun will do to your kids what I did to your barmaid slag, and then he'll whore out your beloved wife to the crackheads on the Docks. She's a bit short of cash these days I hear and even trying to get you back so must be desperate."

Sam lay on the coldness of the marble, watching the shoes of the villain walk out as he struggled to breathe. He cursed the day that he met the Williams twins at school and tried to call for Helena but it was just gulps for air. It was a few minutes before she appeared from the sanctuary of the bar area and came and cradled his head.

The next day Sam was warming up with the team at the Red Bull Arena, the opposition half was occupied by the away team Portland. In the dressing room he found a betting slip to show the games odd with the away win circled. He knew it was a not so subtle message so screwed it up and kicked the ball into the bin nonchalantly.

The New York side had won the last 20 games and were in great form. The Timbers were on the back of a 5 game losing streak and firmly on the bottom of the table. They were 10-1 to win, and a hammering was anticipated by the home supporters. Anyone betting on them was either stupid, crazy, or an informed gambler. The odds were drifting in pre-game, suggesting some heavy backing and the pundits were scratching their heads at the form book.

As he warmed up he chased a loose ball into the crowd and a young kid held out a pen and paper for an autograph. He duly obliged, and asked him who to address it to. The father filled in the blanks and made it very clear.

“Make it out to Danny. I’ll spell it out for you; do what he wants you to do or else. ”

Sam looked up at the menacing figure and the man was huge, but the scorn on his face said more than the words. So did his hand in his pocket suggesting a fire-arm. He handed the kid the correctly autographed paper and it was crumbled into a ball.

“Go back to where you came from Limey.”

The kid looked about 6 years old, and was as ugly as his father.

The game kicked off and it started at a slow pace, and eventually the opposition striker got a break and Sam instinctively tackled him easily and forced him off the ball. He cleared the danger and ignored the shouts of abuse from the stands.

Minutes later the ball went into the crowd on the opposite side of the pitch and he went to take the throw in. He motioned for the ball to be returned and the protagonist wanted to pass it over rather than throw it. As they went to exchange the ball, it stayed firm and Sam looked more clearly at the man, his broken nose and battle-scars showing someone not a stranger to violence.

“You need to do something soon. See how many women and kids are here today? If you don’t lose we are going to start a riot and people will get hurt.”

Sam yanked the ball from his grasp silently and kept eye contact as he spat on the pitch to illustrate a point, and re-started the game.

It may have been his imagination but it felt like he could sense the anger bubbling in the ground. He caught sight of a fight breaking out with a group pushing and shoving, and there was some booing from a group of men. Someone threw a coin that landed near him, and he could hear a child crying somewhere in the crowd. Trouble was brewing, and the mood in the Stadium was beginning to turn sour. A mob mentality was starting, and a bottle was smashed causing a few people to leave in caution, shepherding their children out protectively.

Sam was wrestling with his conscience, and it plagued him. He had to either throw the game to save the ones he loved, or stick to his morals in disregard of the consequences. The way he saw it he only had one choice; so he sprinted for a loose ball and pulled up suddenly in pain, holding the back of his right thigh. He limped to the side-lines with anguish on his face and signalled to the boss he couldn't play on.

He sat in the dressing room alone as his defensive partner, the Colombian Jaime Sandoval, scored the opener. He bit his lip and picked up his mobile phone and searched for a number.

"Hello, I'd like to order a Pizza please? I'd like the Giuseppe special."

The 4-0 home win saw rioting on the streets, and the police were perplexed as to the cause of the anger and action, which seemed to be instigated by fans outside the ground overturning a car and setting it on fire. The celebrations fuelled angry clashes which seemed to spread across all the five boroughs.

From afar the FBI were monitoring the situation as a suspected mob turf war, and were particularly interested in the new player in town who their snitches were pointing too.

The fighting continued nightly, with whole area’s becoming no-go for the police and the National Guard were put on stand-by. Shops were looted, petrol bombs thrown, and someone lost a shoe. It was carnage, and the animosity between gangs grew with the body count. Sam stayed in hiding and sat out the following game against Toronto to be safe. 5 days after that though was the US Cup Final, and he couldn't miss that. He wanted his last shot to be at glory, not from a gun.

Sam was holed up in his hotel room alone safe in the knowledge Helena was safely at a friend's. He had barricaded the door through fear after the recent siege attempt by masked attackers on the hotel, which was only stopped by a line of Police in the area. He had not turned his phone on since the match had finished, and dreaded the thought of the messages from Danny. All he had to accompany him was violent images in his head of the carnage back home, and he constantly tried to alleviate the thoughts with logic. Shaun would never hurt the kids, he knew him too well. He was the brains, and too clever. Danny was the violent and unpredictable one, and he was here at least. The shrill of the hotel phone made him jump, and he carefully answered it.

"Mr Heywood, its reception. I have a Mr Matthew Bell for you?"

"Please put him through."

"Sam? Why is your phone turned off? Why haven't you returned my messages?"

"Lost it. Have you seen Kate and the kids recently?"

"Eh? They're fine mate. They were round earlier to see Cathy and the girls. Why? Just call them up, Kate keeps asking about offers for your next club. That's why I'm calling. FC Sochaux-Montbéliard of France have offered a contract of €3000 per week. Not to be sniffed at eh? Also there are a few other clubs who have asked to be informed if you don't fancy Eastern France. Standard of Belgium, or Blackpool, Brighton, Bristol City if you want to come home. Blackpool is only an hour’s drive from Liverpool so you can go back to the same house. What do you reckon? ............ Sam? You there?"

".............. yeah I'm here. I dunno mate, stall them for me. Tell them I'll think about it and see what offers are on the table."

"Yeah okay. What do you want me to tell Kate?"

"Tell her to watch me in the Final. Gotta go, ta-ra."

Sam replaced the handset and put his heads in his hands. He was in a mess and needed to get out, and wondered how the hell his life had turned out like this. He forced himself to focus on one thing at that point, beating the Richmond Kickers in the US Cup. Ever the professional, he had a job to do.

The game was to be played at Richmond, Virginia. And the team decided to fly the 300 plus mile journey. Getting to the airport proved problematic as the turf war continued in the streets and the cab driver was full of theories.

"Apparently it's some Limey who double-crossed the Cecconi Family the crazy *******. Now him and his crew are trying to take over some of Downtown and all the families are at war with each other. It's chaos and like the old days, blood is being spilt on the streets. It sickens me that hard working Putz's like me have our livelihoods interrupted by these Gumbar's. Here we are Mr Heywood, the airport. Now you beat those boys and win the World Series and prove us New Yorkers are the best team in the world."

Sam went to hand the driver some cash and he waved it away and told him to forget about it and with that he was gone. So he promised himself that he would lift the trophy for the guy and the rest of the native New Yorkers.

He felt safe being this distance away and rolled back the years with a fine performance in the 4-0 win. Regardless of the cabbies view this did not feel the same as lifting the FA or European Cup, but was special none the less.

He waved it aloft and hoped the people he cared about were safe. There were just two games left of the regular season and then the play-offs. His American adventure was drawing to an end, and a potentially dramatic and explosive conclusion.

 
| #  | Date       | C. | Opposition           | Inf. | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 47.| 15.10.2011 |    | Sporting Kansas City |      | Not selected      |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 46.| 5.10.2011  |    | Richmond Kickers     |      | 26                | 22 | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 3  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 79 | 7.5|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 45.| 1.10.2011  |    | Toronto FC           |      | Not selected      |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 44.| 24.9.2011  |    | Portland             |      | Not selected      |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

Wow. Blimey.

I've never felt so emotionally involved in a story before. The blackmail plot is gripping.

Keep bringing the goods, Mistahc, and we'll keep lapping them up.

Gents, thanks much for your kind words; they have really inspired me to finish it and think about the composition a bit more. I've already completed it and plan to do a management sequel and bring back the characters. It really means so much to see my piece give enjoyment and sorry to cut it early, but it was always intended to be a short story.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 13

Sam asked to miss the last away game due to his achy legs, but specifically requested to play the last Home game of the season. The riots had calmed down, but the area was still a powder-keg of violence ready to explode. The army had now been drafted in to help protect the streets and vigilantes patrolled too, occasionally getting mistaken for gangs prompting more running battles and deaths. The City had turned into a scary vision of the hatred coursing through the veins of any mass of population.

Sam was nervous for the first time in a good few years. It was not the thought of the game; it was potential retaliation from Danny and his crew. He searched the faces in the crowd for stares of hatred, jumped when people shouted and banged the advertising hoardings. The thought of Kate, the kids, and Helena all safe and sound relaxed him to some extent, but the in some ways he wished the beating would come as the anticipation was worse.

The whole 90 minutes the home fans sang for their Captain, in the hope of making him sign an extension and stay for another season. The songs of support gave him confidence that no action would take place during the game. It was vocal, and it was on repeat.

"You can hear it in his accent when he talk's,

He's an Englishman in New York.

ooooohhhh wooooaahhh

He's a Scouser, he got a head like an alien,

He's an Englishman in New York."

They finished the season with a subdued draw, but it was irrelevant as they had already romped the league to qualify for the play-offs and would face San Jose. They were confident, and expected to play Los Angeles in the MLS Cup Final.

The away leg was an easy 4-1 victory but at a cost, with 3 strikers being carried off injured. The game saw the return of Gus as the season was effectively over and his ban was completed, and he fired a penalty in before genuinely getting injured due to lack of match practise and excessive partying.

With the 3 goal advantage going into the second leg, it was a formality even with the injuries, and the patched up team still managed to win 1-0. The manager kicked the water bottles in frustration as they suffered yet more injuries and were due to play Toronto in the East Conference final with only one recognised striker.

The manger Neto looked forlorn when Sam approached him.

“You okay Boss?”

“Uncle Sam, my Captain America. Only one striker! What will I do?”

“I’m happy to play up front. I mean if you want. I’m not great, but it will give me a chance to go out on a high and perhaps get a rare goal. Years ago my English club Liverpool had a history of it, in the 1990’s Mark Wright was used an emergency striker, and later Sami Hyypia.”

“Really? You are a life saver. You get me a win huh. Why you not accept our new contract, you are the backbone of this team in my eyes, the only one of my foreigners to play for the love of the game?”

Sam just shrugged and continued his way to the exit. Outside he expected a few autograph and souvenir hunters but there was no-one there, so he waved down a cab to pick him up. It drove him past the burnt out cars and dropped him off outside his hotel where he was greeted by the private security force protecting the property. He headed in, and quickly popped in to see Helena in the bar to kill some time. He had taken to sitting on the edge of the bar, facing the main entrance to see who came in, near the kitchen and an escape route.

“Season’s almost over Mr Heywood, you going to stick around?”

“In New York? You must be kidding; it’s like a war-zone here! Nah I’m on the first plane out of here the minute I play my last game.”

“It’s dying down a bit; rumours are the families have had a meet to discuss peace terms. Shame if you go, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, but a man has got to do what a man has got to do. And all I want to do is be on a bench, with my kids, and the woman I love.”

The following morning he called home and excitedly chatted to the children and told them he’d see them soon. Afterwards Kate came on.

“Sam? Matt tells me you still haven’t chosen the next club yet, c’mon baby, we need to sort our future out.”

“I still don’t know what suits me best, they can wait. Gus has said he’s retiring and maybe I should too?”

“Have Red Bulls paid you your $1 million bonus yet? I’ve got bills to pay and feeding and clothing the kids isn’t cheap.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Matt told me.”

“Well it’s only if we win the MLS Cup, but it’s probably against LA and we’re missing some key players.”

“Thomas Brookfield’s team? He’s a hunk, that Becky’s a lucky girl.”

“Indeed.”

“You know what I mean; you’re the only man for me now. Can’t wait until you are home, but please transfer that money when you can.”

“I doubt they’ll pay it till much later. I’ve got to go, got training so I’ll speak to you soon about my flights.”

The Final would be Sam's last at the ground, and he was reminded of his last home game for Liverpool. The match at Anfield was a real choker for him, and he was hit by his emotions from the moment he ran onto the pitch with a guard of honour. Throughout the 90 minutes the passionate fans sang of his past glories, and his legs felt like jelly as he coasted through the game. Each successful header or tackle generated a loud cheer from the fans. It ended on a high with the whole stadium on their feet applauding him, as he clapped them back on the centre-circle with his wife and kids in tow. The cameras picked up the tears streaming down his face but he didn't care, this had been his life for 20 years since he first signed terms as a spotty 16 year old, and it felt like the death of something cherished.

The memories provoked a realisation that even 18 months later he was still grieving the loss of his old life, and he had to start the next chapter to get out of his depression. First things first, he had to drive his team forward to complete what was effectively the semi-final of the play-offs.

The Red Bull Arena was full to capacity with 25'582 fans, colourfully decorating the stadium and nosily making an atmosphere.

The Toronto game was a tight contest, and Sam made a nuisance of himself upfront. The enigmatic French striker Matthieu Pereira got a 93rd minute winner to seal the win.

Sam ended the game as he did at Anfield but this time minus his family; standing alone in the centre circle and clapping the fans. The stadium had emptied and he was applauded back by just a few thousand hard core fans. In two weeks they would face LA for the title, and in just over that he would be gone and only part of the Club's history. The thought of not playing at the ground again did not fill him the sadness as expected.

As he left again he looked for autograph hunters and was pleased to see a few children and parents waiting. He handed over his shirt and signed pictures, and posed for pictures. It was all smiles, until the sound of breaking glass reverberated off the Stadium walls.

A woman screamed as she caught sight of the thug with a Baseball bat by the car with a broken window. He pointed the wood threateningly at Sam, who in turn urged the women and children to flee to safety. He goaded the hoodlum towards him to divert the danger and recognised the brute with the broken nose straight away.

“Wrong sport pal.”

“It’ll do the job Danny sent us to do. I’m looking forward to taking a few swings at your balls, maybe even break your knee caps too.”

“Us? Where’s your ugly mate, the one from the Village People?”

Sam’s body stiffened at the thought and protectively covered his groin. He felt confident of standing up to one, but two was going to be tough. The cracking sound answered and he looked across to see the other heavy, dressed in his leather jacket. His hand again is his pocket suggesting a gun, and it was pointing his way.

“I’m going to enjoy this you lippy limey ****”

Sam’s heel caught the wall and he realised that he had been backing off. Two was going to be tough but he eyed a gap between the cars he could run into and try to lose them. His football experience was helping him measure the angle of their movement, and he was waiting for the optimum opportunity.

He thought back to Danny’s gun that he left in the hotel room, and how his wished he had it with him. He watched the armed man’s movements intently and picked his timing well, running between the cars low, the men’s paths blocked at their furthest points. A shot sounded like it whizzed over his head, but he didn’t dare look up. He was using a low centre of gravity and ran between cars, following the hoods movements with the sound of their feet. He found an SUV with a suitable gap under the car and rolled under silently.

“Where do you think you can hide? Danny is not going to let you get away, we will find you eventually and I’m going to personally punish you.”

Sam stayed quiet in his hiding place and watched shoes under the cars nearby, pacing back and forth. Suddenly hands and a face replaced and their eyes met, both wide-eyed in surprise.

“Over there!”

“Where?”

“That way!”

Sam had rolled out and moved quickly to a new spot and found himself in a dead end corner. He was trapped.

He sat there for what seemed like ages while he waited to be caught. He tried to listen out for signs of movement and picked out the sound of boots on the tarmac. They were heading his way.

He looked for a weapon and found nothing, so took his belt off soundlessly and wrapped it around his hand. His eyes darted for any sort of escape route and time had run out, the footsteps were close so he adopted a fighting stance and held his breath.

 

| #  | Date       | C. | Opposition           | Inf. | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 51.| 5.11.2011  |    | Toronto FC           |      | 16                | 9  | 0  | 5  | 3  | 0  | 7  | 3  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 3  | 67 | 6.8|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 50.| 2.11.2011  |    | San Jose             |      | 24                | 17 | 0  | 4  | 3  | 0  | 3  | 3  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 73 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 49.| 29.10.2011 |    | San Jose             |      | 23                | 14 | 0  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 2  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 9  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 0  | 77 | 7.1|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 48.| 20.10.2011 |    | Philadelphia         |      | 18                | 8  | 0  | 2  | 2  | 1  | 6  | 5  | 2  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 4  | 0  | 0  | 0  | 1  | 79 | 6.8|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

Chapter 14

There was a fortnight until the next game and the thought of being holed up in the hotel frustrated him. The night before he had been close to a hiding or worse, saved only by the Police’s late arrival. He was thankful to the children’s parents for alerting them to his trouble. He felt like a sitting duck and hated every minute. Two weeks of hiding. Two weeks to kill.

He went for a walk in the crisp November air, his coat pulled tight. He fingered the object in his pocket, the metal cold to the touch. He visited a few places and talked to a few people and it was good to be out again. He grew weary of his quest and wanted a change of scenery from the avenues. He walked through Central Park, stopping to give a homeless man some loose change and then found a bench to sit on.

He craned his neck and took in the New York skyline above the trees. The late afternoon sunshine reflected off windows and the sparkled off the golden leaves, indicating Fall was in full flow. In a distance there was a sound of a gun-fight, and panic spread. Women pushed their prams at pace; cursing themselves for thinking the fighting was over. Calm resumed as no further evidence of escalation surfaced, and a few people broke out in nervous laughter. Sam relaxed and took his hand out of his pocket, his heart beating rapidly.

He closed his eyes and listened to the air flowing from his nose, and tried to imagine where he wanted to be when he opened them. He felt the bench move as someone sat next to him.

"Heard you've been looking for me?"

He jumped at the familiar voice, and instinctively opened his eyes.

"Yes, yes I was. You are a hard man to find."

He put his hands in his pocket and felt the handle of the gun. His target was so close he could read the words of his tattoo's and see the grade of his shaved head. He had long since been dreaming of ridding the world of Danny Williams and here he was, so close he couldn't miss.

"Well, you well and truly screwed me by not doing what you were told in that match didn’t you? I should do you right here. Lucky for you, The Cecconi family are no longer supporting me so I'm alone, and need all the help I can get. But that's how I want it; I've got manpower and get to do what I want. I tried to come and see that barmaid the other day but the Security stopped me. I almost blasted my way in, but decided against it. Shame."

He said the last word with such a sneer and aggression that it made Sam's skin crawl. He pointed the gun at him through the fabric of the coat pocket and looked deep into his eyes.

"I told you, if you ever went near her again I'd kill you."

"You haven't got the balls. What are you going to do? Kick footballs at me?"

He threw his head backed and laughed manically, and the people in the park looked across. Sam saw women and kids staring at them, and he couldn't bring himself to do what he came to do in their presence.

"Shall we go somewhere quieter? A drink perhaps?"

Danny leaning forward and poked him in the chest.

"Listen to me you divvy, you need to start doing what I need to do before someone gets hurt. Have a look at these pictures before you start getting too big for your bills."

He showed him some pictures of his phone of his wife and kids with bags over their heads sitting tied up on the sofa, and of Helena drinking a coffee somewhere. Sam let out an audible wail.

"I know where she is pal. So start doing what I want. Now."

He was poking him as he talked and Sam could feel his anger rising. He became blinkered to the onlookers and shifted his body and moved his head closer, spitting with venom as he talked back.

"Don't you threaten me Danny you fat wap. I'm sick of it you hear. The world is going to feel a very small place for you soon when people start finding out you are the instigator of this mess."

As he spoke some flecks of saliva landing on the big man's face, but he was so hard he didn't wipe them away. He just stood up and grabbed him by the arm, and led him off. Sam's shoulder was held high and in an awkward angle so his fingers could only trace the end of the gun handle, and he willed it closer so he could protect himself. But it was too late; he was being led towards a van.

"You're coming with me and I need your assistance. I need you to do a job for me."

From nowhere an object was thrown which hit Danny on the head and rolled in front of their path. It was a can, and the big man let go of Sam's arm and kicked it hard in the direction it came. It was the tramp and he had another at the ready and a trolley full of more ammunition behind him.

"Hey, leave him alone."

"Hey, we're walking here. What you gonna do about it?"

The tramp didn't seem so brave once Danny had squared up to him but Sam did with the gun in the palm of his hand again.

"Get away from him Danny or I'll blow a hole in your head."

Danny spun round of his heels and found himself facing the weapon pointed in his face. He stared at the barrel, and then focused on the man holding it.

"Go on then. Shoot me in front of all these people. Do you think they don't know who you are? If you shoot me it's the death penalty so you may as well pull the trigger under your own chin."

Sam took the safety off and tried to ignore the children cowering behind their mothers. He tried to look calm but his hand was shaking and his palm sweaty.

"Not in the state of New York lad."

"Well, life in prison then. Before you do, can I do something? I going to reach inside my coat slowly, so don't get itchy with that finger."

He pulled out his phone and tossed it to Sam.

"What's this for?"

"Press redial and ask Benny where he is."

He did, and a thick New York accent answered, telling him he had been watching Helena shop with her friend. He then passed the phone over and his blood froze as he heard her voice, desperately pleading for his help.

"Now put that gun down before you get you both killed. I can see you are shaking from here. PUT it down. And come with me or Benny will do things to her that years of therapy will not heal."

Sam breathed and swallowed hard to compose himself. One squeeze of his finger and this scum of humanity was gone forever. But images flashed in his mind; of his kids tied up, and Helena screaming in terror. He looked into his own heart and soul and knew he wasn't a killer, even if it was the right thing to do.

"What makes you think I give a toss about her? I'm not putting my neck on the line for her, its Kate I want to be with."

"Then you'll have innocent blood on your hands. You can still decide her fate."

"If I do this job for you, I want assurances that they won't be hurt. Her, Kate, and the kids."

"Of course."

"How can I trust you?"

"You can't."

"And what happens if I just turn and walk away now?"

"You know what."

Sam thought some more, then had an idea and dialled a number on the phone.

"Shaun? Have you got any idea what your brother is up to out here? He's an absolute fruit loop."

Danny made a move and Sam raised the gun again, a steeliness in his eyes.

"Sam? Is that you? Well if he's doing what he's been told then he's been getting us territory over there. I hope you are doing what you have been asked as I don't particularly want to hurt your kids, but business is business. We need all the help we can get out there, so need every man we can. Particularly one's we can trust. We have a little job for you, and then we need to get you to sign that new contract and stay out there for longer."

"Shaun. You are a **** you know that."

With that he tossed the phone to Danny and walked to the van. Sam cursed himself; of course Shaun knew about it, he was always the brains behind all their crimes. But he was far more dangerous, brutal and ruthless than he ever had imagined.

As they drove he looked at the Motley Crew sitting in wait for the job. His ignored the evil stares of Ugly and Broken Nose, and looked at the others, taking time to study them intently. He suspected the gang were a mix of the unwanted, probably too wild for the more organised and professional units. You didn’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helped.

One guy he established was a cockney and clearly had Military training, and he was sitting next to a wiry chap with IRA tattoos. These two should not be collaborating but somehow Danny had bonded them with something more than their principles. He was betting promises of money.

“My Gran has that one.”

“Feck off with ya you whore’s melt, or I blow your house up.”

“Bomb expert then? What job are we doing if you are needed?”

“I said feck off and mind your own business!”

The man lent forward to show he was serious and Sam could smell Whiskey and Marzipan on him. They locked stares and glared at each other, neither willing to back down. The van hit a bump and they knocked heads together. It was a common football collision so Sam didn’t flinch and the Irishman blinked and rubbed his head.

“For fecks sake, mind how ya fecking drive this thing ya fecking eejit. I’m just after banging me head because of you, you fecking gob*****.”

The Hispanic man next to Sam laughed.

“Calm down Seamus you nutter, you’d start a fight in solitary.”

The gaze moved targets with the same manic stare, but on spying the person opposite sharpening a big knife he thought better of it, choosing instead to thump the back of the driver’s seat.

It was going to be a long night for Sam, and he knew it was not going to be a pleasant experience. He knew he had to act tough, as any sign of weakness would be noticed immediately.

At 1am the job was done and he knew that Danny had something powerful over him; a first-hand experience of actions he didn't want anyone in the world to know. The fact it was driven by saving the ones he loved did not make it any more palatable. The van pulled into a warehouse and slowed to a stop, and Danny opened the door and they all jumped out. Sam followed tentatively, keeping a safe distance and his wits about him.

In the corner where it was lit, Helena was sat tied to a chair with a bag over her head. As he got closer she heard Danny's voice and stiffened with fright, trying to keep her body as far away as possible from the sound of her tormentor. Danny ripped her hood off and she blinked repeatedly as she struggled to accustom her eyes to the light. When she did the fear was evident, and her facial expressions screamed for help even with the gag muffling the sounds.

"So Sam, I am thinking it's best if she stays with me. You know, to keep you in line. What do you think?"

"You've also got my wife and kids, why do you need her?"

"Because they are across the pond and she is here, and Shaun thinks the visuals will do better than your imagination. He's right; I can see the pain in your eyes as you look at her now. So, she stays here, and you can do a few little jobs for me to help us get the power here. Shaun wants you to stay another season, and we should get your wife and kids here so we can be one big happy family. You may not think it, but you were made for this game. You proved that tonight."

Sam looked at his swollen knuckles and blood on his hands and instantly regretted not blowing his smug head clean off in the park. Danny had him exactly where he wanted him, and laughed the laugh of a man who held all the cards.

F***ing scum that Danny.

Chapter 15

Sam was sat at the hotel bar resting his chin on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He was lost, and looking at the replacement barman stocking the fridges did not have the same effect as Helena, actively looking away when his nipples hardened in the breeze. He couldn't help but feel helpless and needed to do something, but didn't know what. A dribble of drool ran down his hand and he jerked his head up in embarrassment, just as the manager walked behind disapprovingly.

"Simon, can you work tomorrow too? There's no sign of Helena and she's still not answering her phone. This is the last straw after she took that time off sick. Mr Heywood, you two are quite close, have you seen her?"

"No, not for a few days. I think she was staying with a friend? I hope she is okay."

The guilt burnt inside of him. If he had been staying in another hotel, heck if he even moved out of this one in the early days then she would not have been involved. His thoughts drifted to wherever she was, and the image of her laughing and smiling face nearly tore him apart. He had to do something, so he got up and headed for the exit.

"Mr Heywood?"

Sam turned and the manager was following him out, and ushered him closer so he could speak discretely.

"If you do see her, tell her to not bother coming back. She can't keep doing this to me; I have a business to run."

Sam nodded and carried on his way, cursing him under his breath.

He did the only thing he could think of, and called his best mate for help.

"Gus? It's Sam. Listen mate remember that time you helped me by getting rid of that psycho by creating a scene to get the police to come? Well I need another favour."

The next night his request paid dividends.

"Muchacho, it is sorted. My Colombian friends have tracked them down, we are lucky I have wasted most of my wages up my nose eh?"

"Ahhh Gus you are amazing. Thank you so much pal, I owe you one."

"Two now. I have the address of where she is, and there are quite a few people there staying. Now my Colombian friends have had run-ins with this guy already so are happy to help. Apparently he has started to encroach on their turf so they have been preparing to fight back anyway. They have offered to go in tonight and take her back if you want?"

"No, no. She might get hurt that way. Could they do a diversion? Attack a property of his and get his people to head there? Then I can sneak in and get her out?"

"Good plan amigo. I'll sort it out. Listen, that man is loco. Who knows what he will do in retaliation? You be careful huh?"

"Thanks Gus, you're a good friend. I'll await your call."

The next few hours were tense as he had to wait, pacing up and down and constantly going over his strategy and studying the building layout on Google Street view. His chest with tight and the adrenaline pumped, and he felt like a kid on Christmas Eve constantly checking the time and seeing just 5 minutes had passed when it felt like an hour. When the phone rang he answered on the first ring. It was confirmed, they were on for 11pm.

Sam went to the Gym to pass time, he went over his plan time and time again, acting out the motions to ensure the timings were correct. Finally after picking at some dinner it was time to set off. He met Gus downstairs and the pair of them walked briskly in the cold night, not saying a word. They reached their destination and huddled in the snug of a dark corner in the road. Sam let a nervous breath out and voiced his plan.

"There it is. Right, so we wait until 11pm when the Colombian's will attack the warehouse. They should come out of that building in a rush once they get the word. We've been told there were 8 of them up there, so with any luck all of them will go as she'll be tied up anyway."

"And if some stay?"

Sam griped the metal of the gun in his pocket, and questioned himself on how far he'd go.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. And once I get her I'll signal out the window we are coming down and you'll flag down a cab for us, we'll come down, into the cab then back to the hotel. Got that?"

They both looked at their watches and registered the time.

"Nervous my friend? Want some of this to relax you?"

Three games into a return since his drugs ban finished and the Argentinian striker had not learnt. He sniffed from his fingers and cricked his neck with a smile on his face.

"No thanks, want to keep my wits about me."

From the distance they heard a low explosion and then the sound of gunfire, the people walking in the street ducked a little then hurried to their destinations expecting another wave of violent riots to break out. They saw movement in the apartment as a head looked out the window, then a flurry of activity as bodies moved quickly. A minute later they rushed out the entrance and ran to some cars, led by Danny. Sam did a head count and looked to the stars as he saw the full eight. Gus laughed and back-slapped him as the cars quickly drove in the direction of the warehouse.

He breathed deeply and sprinted across the street and into the recently vacated elevator that was waiting on the ground floor and hit the fourth floor. The ride felt like a eternity and his right leg was shaking, he found himself hyperventilating and tried to regulate his breathing in an attempt to calm his nerves. The door pinged open and he headed for the apartment door where he had three choices; kick it in with the gun is his hand and hope there was no-one inside, ring the bell and see who answered, or set the fire alarm off and see if anyone opened the door.

He would have thought that anyone in would have been on edge at the news of the attack and been fired up with adrenalin. This gave a unexpected dangerous edge and they could be armed. So he went for the latter and broke the fire-glass, spreading himself flat against the wall near the door. If anyone came out he could pounce, if no-one came out he could assume the flat was empty.

He tuned out the sound of the alarm and listened intently for sounds of any movement and heard nothing but silence. He looked at his watch, and a few minutes had passed. He felt bold, so he pulled the gun out, spun off the wall and aimed a kick at the panel next to the lock. THUD! Crack!

He was leaning against the wall holding his calf. It always looked easy in the movies, and although the wood had cracked, the door stood firm. He chose to use his shoulder instead to finish the job, and after numerous attempts it broke away enough to get his arm in to unlock it. He limped in; at least certain no-one else was home, but kept the gun out just in case. He looked around and saw lots of pizza boxes and takeways, and found a locked room and rattled the handle.

"Helena? You in there?"

He took a few steps back and breathed deep and prepared his aching body for another battering ram attempt. His eye caught sight of the key above the frame and he flipped his head back and exhaled out in relief, praising the deities. He pulled it down and quickly unlocked the door, and a wave of emotion hit him as he saw her tied to a chair with her head slumped. He dived at her and pulled the hood off and removed the gag and checked for signs of life. She had a slow pulse, but was alive and his clenched his fists in joy and attacked the knots with his fingers.

After a few fruitless minutes he went to the kitchen for a knife and came back and severed the knots.

"Helena? Wake up!"

Suddenly the fire-alarm stopped ringing, with just the echo's resounding in his head. The peace was welcome. He shook her gently to no avail, and went back to the kitchen for a glass of water and threw it in her face. She stirred slightly and he knew he had to carry her.

He ran to the window and looked down at the alley. Gus saw him and waved frantically, so he waved back. Gus continued to wave like a maniac, and the confusion set in. What was he doing? He was meant to be getting the car, not flailing his arms about like a loon.

He heard the sound behind and smiled as he turned.

"Helena, you are up......"

He took in the massive frame of Danny Williams for a second before he saw the arm swing and the darkness took over.

When he awoke he felt constricted, and found himself bound to a chair. He lifted his head groggily and looked to his left and saw Helena sprawled out on the sofa, comatose.

"Sorry mate, I've drugged her to lower her resistance levels. Needed to keep the boys entertained innit. Isn't it lucky the Super called me to report he went to the fire alarm on my floor and found my door broken into eh? If I didn't come back you'd have slipped away into the night. What the hell were you thinking? You really think you'd get one over me? You know Shaun has your family back home and you're toying with their lives. Think I need to teach you a lesson you won't forget."

Danny picked up the kitchen knife and rubbed his thumb on the point, over exaggerating his reaction to the sharpness. He smirked as he cut the air with arm movements, violently stabbing at nothing for dramatic effect.

"Flubb youz"

Danny laughed manically.

"Flubb you too Sam. I'm gonna enjoy this. Who should I torture first, you or her? I think a nice facial scar will suit your pretty boy looks, but I’d like to carve her up too. I love to see the terror in her eyes when I stand over her."

"hhmmpp behamhp yuum."

"You what?"

Danny leaned forward and was in his face sneering at him, the evil behind his eyes danced as he touched the knife against flesh. The veins in his fat head pulsed with the anticipation of inflicting more pain. Sam tried to repeat the words with more clarity.

"I said, he's behind you."

Danny looked puzzled, then the light went out behind his eyes and they glazed over. He slumped into Sam and fell face first onto the floor. Behind him stood Gus with the toaster, the room light reflecting in the concave head-shaped dent. Gus waved the metal above his head with two hands like a trophy triumphantly.

"You owe me three now yes?"

"Just untie me quickly before he wakes up."

Gus sprang into action and cut Sam loose, kicking the big man as he moved past him and fished something out of his trouser pocket. Sam rubbed his jaw gingerly and made motions like he was eating a huge invisible corn-on-the-cob, before heading over to Helena to try and wake her up. Gus helped as they picked her up and carried her to the elevator.

As the doors tinged open the elderly occupants looked at them oddly as they rushed into holding up the unconscious woman. It reminded Sam of a pair of old dogs as they angled their heads in confusion.

"Too much to drink, we told her to lay off the Absinthe."

Helena mumbled something inaudible and they smiled knowingly back.

"Ah yes, Alfred had to carry me home once when we were in Paris in the 60's. Wild night that was, I was trying to strip constantly apparently and mount a guy called Xavier."

The next few seconds were awkward and throats were cleared and anxious whistles heard. Finally they reached the bottom and they were able to exit. Gus steered them round to the side alley.

"This way my friend."

They reached Danny's car and Gus pulled out his keys and they laid the still out of it Helena on the back seat. Gus jumped in the driver’s seat and fumbled with the keys and the ignition as Sam scrambled round to the passenger side.

"Let's get the **** out here. Get to the hotel, at least there are armed guards there."

They jumped as the huge shape of Danny landed on the car bonnet, still swinging from the fire escape. Gus threw the gears into reverse and they flew backwards, leaving Danny in a heap on the floor. The car spun out of the alley and into a row of dustbins, knocking them flying into the road. The gears made a groan like a monster as Gus struggled to get the right gear, and the tires screeched as they wheel span on the tarmac as he hit the gas.

From the corner of his eye Sam saw Danny running at them brandishing a gun out and firing some shots, a bullet cracking off the windshield and they ducked in reaction. The car sped off to safety and he caught a glimpse of the madman screaming in rage behind them, his face contorted and twisted with anger, looking a bit like the Incredible Hulk throwing a tantrum.

As they speed away they laughed and cheered with relief, and to Sam it felt as good as celebrating one of his rare goals. They were heading back to the sanctuary of the hotel, and it seemed the coast was clear.

They pulled up at the rear entrance and Sam went round the front like normal, before returning at the fire exit. He let them in, and they snuck Helena upstairs and into his room and he carefully laid her out on his bed.

"I need a drink after that! Shall we go to the bar?"

"I want to be here when she wakes up. You go, but don't forget we have an important match coming up."

Gus broke out in hysterics.

"You kill me man. After all what has happened you are still thinking about football?

He put his hand out for a handshake, but Gus grabbed his arm and put the other round him in an embrace. Then he had that gleam in his eye and headed down to the bar.

Sam went to the mini-bar and grabbed a whiskey to calm his nerves and sat next to Helena to stroke her face softly, apologising for getting her into his mess. His conscious was clear and she was safe, and it was only his wife and kids to rescue. For that, he would have to return home.

Chapter 16

Sam couldn't sleep, and his dreams were still haunted by the actions he was forced to do under duress. He tried to escape the thoughts, but his mind kept drifting back. He thought of Helena and hoped she was okay. When she finally woke she freaked as she was in his hotel room, and it hadn't occurred to Sam of her experiences in it. After she was steady on her feet she had left, quitting her job in the process so she never had to set foot in that hotel again.

He was in the mid-west and the next day was the final game of the season. One last game and he was a free agent. One last game for his million dollar bonus, and one more before he could escape from New York. The club had obviously agreed with a successful season a wild dream, but it was Sam’s last Pay Day and he would do what he could do to help the win. The best news was the break saw Gus return to fitness, so Sam could play at the back while the Argie played upfront with Pereria. Sam's leg was still a bit sore from kicking the door in, but he was sure he could play on it.

It was a relief the game was out of New York and away from the violence, in middle ground of the Livestrong Sporting Park in Kansas, midway between the East and West coasts.

Despite the distance, a full house was in fine colour and voice and as Sam ran onto the pitch he was impressed by the spectacle of the event. It was likely his last 90 minutes of competitive football and although he wanted it to last forever on that front, he also wanted it over quick so he could get out of the country as soon as he could.

In just the 11th minute the French striker was carried off injured and the manager shrugged his shoulders in disbelief and sent on a central defender. Sam lumbered his way up and high-fived his friend, again required to play up front.

They combined in the 35th minute when Heywood’s hold up play saw him law it off to Moilanen, who released Aveldano to finish well. They hugged with more than joy, the strong friendship bond evident.

LA were limited to a handful of chances, but were unable to get a shot on target. Heywood won his bonus, and brought the curtain down on his New York and football career with another winner’s medal. Despite a tinge of sadness, it was actually more of a relief and he promised his manager and team-mates that he’d make the end of season celebrations to say his emotional goodbyes.

Despite the party mood on the plane journey home, he felt detached and sad. He had unfinished business and the football no longer was a distraction. He spent the journey looking out the window and at the clouds, wondering what would happen next in his life. At the airport he flagged a cab and was delighted to see the taxi driver who drove him a few weeks back.

“Mr Heywood! I was waiting and hoped I’d get you. Jump in.”

They drove back and Sam was told the latest in the gang battles, which had intensified with the Colombian's joining in and wiping out most of the Limey's crew. It’s seemed Danny was holed up in a local motel as the families had united against him to drive him out. He was now a marked man, and living in fear of being whacked.

When they arrived at the hotel they were ready to part ways, and once again the driver refused the fare.

“You are the pride of New York and welcome in my City any day. I heard you ain’t staying and I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I need to go home; I have some things to sort out. Here, I have a present for you; it’s the jersey I wore today and I’ve signed it for you.”

“Really? Gee, that’s kind of you Sam.”

They shook hands and he rushed into the hotel to pack. He’d have a few drinks later with the team then he wanted to look for flights, as time was of the essence to put his plan into action.

As he passed reception the Manager waved at him to get his attention.

“I have an urgent message from your brother and he requested you call him on this number ASAP.”

Sam looked at the paper and the cryptic message. Danny Williams was the problem that never went away. He’d deal with that later though; he had a party to go to.

The next day he awoke nursing a hangover. He hadn’t planned on staying late at the party, but had relaxed with the alcohol and eventually enjoyed himself. The knowledge Danny was too scared to leave his hideout and was begging for his help had a big part to do with it. He had an emotional farewell with Gus, with promises of seeing each other soon. He was probably his best friend in the world right now, and they talked of keeping in touch and visits. He told him that the Colombian's had indeed wiped out Danny's crew that night, and were now looking for him to complete the job. It was surely only a matter of time, but Sam would not believe it was over while he was still at large.

He rang his travel agent and booked his flight home, then looked at his watch, ordered a last meal and made his call home.

“Kate? I’m getting the 6pm Red-eye flight via Heathrow. My connecting flight lands at 10am. Can you pick me up? The car is still there but I’ve lost my keys and you have the spare in the house.”

“Sam? Where’s that million dollars?”

“Relax, I have the cheque here and I’ll bring it with me. Will you pick me up? Hold on, room service is here.”

He quickly got his food and returned.

“What you got?”

“Had to be a New Yorker Burger to see my trip off in style. Urghhh, Gherkins.”

“You like Gherkins?”

“Not any more. You going to pick me up then?”

“Okay, I’ll get a cab. Can’t wait to see you, love you lots.”

“Great, I’ll see you then, love you too. I’ll send you the flight and parking space details by text.”

Not long afterwards he settled his account, said goodbye to the staff and headed for the airport. It was sad to leave the city he called home for a year, but he was glad to leave. He would soon no longer be an Englishman in New York.

 

| #  | Date       | C. | Opposition           | Inf. | Pas               | Cmp| Key| Tck| Won| Key| Hea| Won| Key| Ast| Sho| Sot| Int| Run| Off| Fou| Fld| Con| Rat| Gls| 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 52.| 20.11.2011 |    | Los Angeles          |      | 23                | 16 | 0  | 4  | 3  | 0  | 9  | 8  | 4  | 0  | 2  | 1  | 0  | 1  | 2  | 2  | 2  | 74 | 6.9|    | 
| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

| Statistics      | Apps   | Gls  | Pens | Asts | MoM  | Yel  | Red  | Tck  | Pas R| Drb  | Sh Tar | Fouls| Fls Ag | Av R | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| Non Competitive | 3 (1)  | 1    | 0    | 0    | 0    | 0    | 1    | 0.37 | 73 % | -    | 100 %  | 3    | 0      | 6.82 | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| League          | 32 (1) | 1    | 0    | 0    | 1    | 4    | 0    | 1.85 | 65 % | 0.12 | 44 %   | 31   | 24     | 6.97 | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| Cup             | 4      | 0    | 0    | 0    | 0    | 0    | 0    | 1.75 | 82 % | 0.25 | -      | 8    | 3      | 7.22 | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| Continental     | 0      | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -      | -    | -      | ---- | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| International   | 0      | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -    | -      | -    | -      | ---- | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| Overall         | 36 (1) | 1    | 0    | 0    | 1    | 4    | 0    | 1.84 | 67 % | 0.14 | 36 %   | 39   | 27     | 6.99 | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
|                 |        |      |      |      |      |      |      |      |      |      |        |      |        |      | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

I'd imagine this would be a great movie. It's that good.

Thanks Ben, for me that's the greatest compliment that I could ever pay a book, in that I can imagine it visually and think it would make a great film.

So for you, here's the final chapter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

Sam stretched his back after the 10 hour flight and gathered his bag from the overhead locker, and he was glad to be on terra firma again. He was excited at the destination that had long since eluded him and been in his mind constantly for the past months.

At the carousel he waited patiently for his luggage and nervously eyed his watch for the correct time. He had never changed it from GMT to reflect where his heart lay.

He breathed deep to calm himself and pulled out his phone and dialled his wife’s number.

“Kate honey, I’m home, where are you?”

“I’m in the car waiting for you. Shall I come now?”

“Not yet, I need to get through passport control, so I’ll call you when I am close. Are the kids with you? I can’t wait to see them.”

“I left them with your mum, you’ll see them soon. Be quick, see you soon.”

The call ended and he dialled another number.

“Mum? It’s Sam.”

“Oh my baby! Are you back?”

“Nearly. The kids with you?”

“Yes, they are playing with your Dad, he dotes after them boys. They keep wanting to play this game called ’Hostage’ where Shaun pretended to tie them up. Sounds awful.”

“Yeah, they told me about that a month ago. Anyway, was Kate with anyone when she left?”

“How did you know that? She’s with Shaun. They said he wanted to surprise you. I don’t know why you are still friends with him; he was always bad news.”

“Don’t worry mum, I plan on cutting the ties. I’ll speak to you soon.”

He dialled another number.

“PC Blake, Serious Crimes Unit.”

“Hi, I was given your details by Special Agent Costanza of the New York Police regarding your file on the Williams Brothers. I just thought I’d let you know Shaun is currently sitting in a car in Liverpool airport. In the boot is 20 kilos of cocaine, which should be enough to put him down for a long stretch. And are you still looking for his brother Danny? I have the hotel he’s in if you want to get the FBI to pick him up?”

He gave the details to the excited officer, and then rang another number.

“Hi, can I order a Giuseppe Special pizza please?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Sam Heywood.”

“Hold on………. Mr Cecconi, it’s for you.”

“Sam, thank you for the information on that snake Danny or whatever his name really was. Those fake passports you provided showed us he was setting us up and gave us that poor information on that betting sting. If you didn’t call me we would have lost a fortune and at least we managed to reclaim our losses by some reversing betting. I owe you.”

“Well, I have one last gift. I can give you the location of the snake right now.”

“Mr Heywood, with this information you are really spoiling us.”

Sam didn’t care if the Colombians, Italians or Police got to Danny first, as long as he got what he deserved.

He got his bag and wheeled it to a bar, where he ordered a bottle of beer and an orange juice, and after they were finished he pulled out his phone again.

“Kate? I’m almost ready, and you still in the car? Good, can you put me on speaker? So tell me again how much you want to be with me and start a new life? Before you do that, please tell me the truth and tell me when the last time you slept with Shaun?”

“Oh baby, I haven’t even seen him for ages, let alone slept with him.”

“Really? That’s good to hear. There I was fretting he would be waiting in the back seat to jump me for that $1 million dollar cheque.”

Kate was silent for a short while, and Sam heard a hushed conversation, then Shaun spoke.

“Sam, armed police have surrounded the car and pointing guns at us. Hope you haven’t ****ed me?”

“Me? No, but that’s bad timing mate as I hope the bizzies don’t find your gear in the car as it would still have your prints on it. Wouldn't want you to go the Prison and have them inmates make you their bitch now would we? Hope you don't have nightmares about gherkins for the rest of your life old buddy."

“You’re ****ing dead Sam, I’ll ****ing have you ****!”

He listened for a while as he listened to the police make their move, and smiled when it was clear they found the drugs and read him his rights. He rubbed his hands together with glee as he heard the arresting officer state that the crime of category one possession was over 20 years.

As he cut the phone off, Shaun swore more revenge in the background. Finally for the last call he dialled again.

“Danny? I’ve just got your message.”

“Sam? Thank God. I need you to get me out of here quick. Shaun has your kids as we speak so you best do what I need.”

“Can’t do that mate, I’m not in New York any more. Oh, someone wants a word.”

“Hi you slime-ball, it’s Helena. I just wanted you to know something. Remember that night when you pretended to be Sam and called me up to deliver you some drinks?”

“How could I forget? Bet you haven’t forgotten either.”

“No, although in time I hope I will, But I promise you this, from now on you will remember me when your hear someone knock at your door. I hope they give it to you just as bad as you gave it to me. Best get used to sleeping with one eye open mother ****er.”

Sam and Helena hugged and both let their emotions wash over them, shedding a little tear. They were finally safe, and they headed out of the airport.

"Aloha kakahiaka, welcome to the Island of Hawaii. Do you need a taxi to your destination?"

THE END

An excellent story mistahc really enjoyed it

Excellent debut work. Really a fun and exciting read. Well done!

And a brilliant ending too ! fabulous stuff mistahc.

tenthree, lads, shall we give him the newcomers award now ? can't see anyone coming in and doing any better than this........

Great stuff mate. Going straight into the Short Story of the Year bank for consideration.

Thanks for the kind words gents, so pleased you liked it. Look forward to bringing back the characters in the follow-up.

Nice one, tip top work mistahc.

shameless bounce.

As some of you may know or have guessed, I write my stories straight into this website as I don't have word on my laptop. This method, coupled with being mildly dyslexic and rarely re-reading more than the last chapter before starting the next, leads to some disjointedness and terrible grammar in parts. I bashfully let an amateur writing friend read it, and he had some feedback I incorporated around making Danny's gang more 3D.

Well this week I finally got round to reading the story fully and have tried to correct spelling, grammar and plot holes. Actually added 2000 words and a few more characters in doing so, and at least one who will return in the sequel.

Will gleefully accept feedback on this story/amendment if anyone has the inclination to read 22'000 words :-)

I'll go back and read it but our standard policy has been to close finished stories so people don't bump dead threads. This can stay open for awhile since you did such a great job on it but after a time, it will be closed. Don't read anything into that.

To be fair I never really noticed any glaring errors (and I write for a living, so I'm always very sharp about those), because the storyline probably helped glossed over it.

You don't have much to worry about actually.

Sorry ttl, didn't see that in the forum rules. It will be a one off, promise (as will download word).

Ben, thanks mate. Really appreciated your encouragement throughout the whole story,