As he approached Gary Jones looked up from the snooker table.
‘All right look who it is! It’s Ted Wright’s very own arse wiper, Erasmus.’
Erasmus let a fake smile crawl up onto his face and stay there.
‘Gary, good to see you setting a captain’s example as usual.’
Erasmus could see that Wayne was asleep in the armchair. There was a long string of drool hanging from his bottom lip.
Gary noticed Erasmus looking at Wayne.
‘Play a drinking game and there’s always a loser. Talking of losers are you going to buy us a round? I have to warn you it’s expensive in here, a dogsbody’s wages might not stretch to it.’
Erasmus breathed in and concentrated on exhaling the anger instead of letting it transmit to his fists, which he felt twitching in anticipation.
‘I’ve come to take him home,’ said Erasmus nodding at Wayne.
‘He’s fine and he’s staying here, aren’t you, buddy? We are going to have a few more drinks.’
Gary placed his hand on Wayne’s shoulder. His head lolled forward.
‘A feeww more drinhks,’ repeated Wayne.
‘You think this is good for him, for the team, do you?’
Gary stood up and let his arms fall to his side, palms facing Erasmus.
‘Good for the team? You fucking lowlife, what do you know about the team or football? This is team bonding. Now get the fuck out of here before I throw you out.’
Kristos stood up and though Gary was at least six foot he was dwarfed by Kristos.
‘Iz good for you if you does as he sez, no?’ said Kristos.
Now the other three men stood up. Erasmus didn’t fancy the odds but he had been in worse scrapes.
‘Ted Wright wants me to look after Wayne. That’s what I’m doing. Wayne, stand up and come with me. Steph’s waiting.’
Wayne started to stand up but Gary pushed him hard in the chest so he fell back in his seat.
‘Whdda fuk?’ said Wayne.
‘I don’t give a shit what Ted thinks or wants. I’m the captain and he stays.’
Gary shoved his head forward in a quick darting movement that reminded Erasmus of a hungry rat he had caught chewing on his boot in a Sangar in Afghanistan. Erasmus had the same urge to do to Gary what he had done to the rat.
‘I tell you what I’ll do, I’ll make you a promise. Let him come with me now and I won’t break your kneecap and bring to a premature end a career that I’m reliably informed is coming to an end soon anyway.’
Gary flushed and there was a pulse above his eyebrow that told Erasmus that this was only going to end one way. Erasmus shot out his right hand and picked up a snooker cue. He would make good on his promise to Gary.
The three doormen types stepped forward. The one to Gary’s left smiled at the anticipation of violence. Erasmus decided to break his arm first before moving on to the others.
‘Gentlemen, gentleman, are we all not on the same team? What is this all about?’
Erasmus looked around and came face to face with the man who had been staring at him the day he first met Ted at the match and who had been sitting on his own in the Blood House: Babak. He was in his late fifties at least and had short, jet-black hair. He was dressed immaculately in a tailored suit and lingering behind him was Steve Cowley hoping from foot to foot and looking anxious.
Babak extended his hand.
‘Babak Badalian, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Jones. Ted has told me all about you and your role at the club. Gary, sit down, if you please.’
Gary looked uncertain for a second and then grimaced, but he sat down. His goons followed suit. Wayne had woken up and started laughing at nothing in particular.
‘Erasmus, Greek yes, it means “to love”, this doesn’t look like love to me.’ Babak chuckled. ‘Come and join me at the bar.’
Erasmus put the snooker cue back on the baize and walked to the bar with Babak. Steve Cowley followed but Babak turned to him.
‘I think Erasmus and I would speak alone.’
He didn’t wait for an answer from Cowley.
Once they had ordered their drinks, Babak a mineral water and Erasmus a Coke, Babak leaned in conspiratorially towards Erasmus.
‘I love athletes, footballers. They are like the very best hunting falcons but sometimes you need to put a hood on them, stop their more savage behaviour.’
‘I saw you at the match watching me,’ said Erasmus.
Babak’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
‘Ah yes, I always wonder when a client has a new “contact”, it’s my business to keep my clients happy and to do that I have to know what and who is important to them, yes?’
Erasmus sipped his Coke.
‘And what is your business, Babak?’
Babak rolled his eyes.
‘I am an Armenian. My country has been the pathway for invading armies for centuries. Some of us learnt that the best way to survive is to provide the invaders with what they want. My family has traded everything, precious metals, livestock, commodities and now we deal in talent.’
Babak nodded towards Wayne.
‘I thought Steve was his agent?’
‘Indeed he is, I am merely the means by which people who want something speak to those who have it. I bring people together. I make things work.’
‘Are you working for Real Madrid, I heard they wanted to buy Wayne?’
‘I work for no one but my family. If there is a deal to be done then I will always help the parties along, to come to a mutual understanding over the commodity. But Real Madrid, no. They are old money. There are new, more profitable markets.’
‘I think the commodity needs to come with me and go home.’
Babak’s expression was one of concern. He held Erasmus’s shoulder.
‘I like you, Erasmus. I can see that this is more than work, yes? Of course you should take him home to be with his family if that’s what they are.’
Erasmus wondered what he meant by the comment but decided not to ask. Babak clearly carried the authority here and he had given Erasmus the pass he needed.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Maybe you will return the favour one day soon, yes?’
Erasmus went back over to the group and pulled Wayne up out of the chair.
Gary Jones sneered at him.
‘You’re a cunt, a nothing, and this isn’t over.’
Being called a cunt twice in a day wasn’t quite his best record but it wasn’t an everyday occurrence either. Erasmus turned his head away from Gary and towards two of the goons sat next to Wayne.
‘Big girls say what,’ whispered Erasmus.
‘What, what did you say?’ said Gary.
The goons began to snigger.
‘Nothing, just leaving.’
Erasmus pulled Wayne out of the chair.
‘Rasmus, karate moves, I wanna see them now!’
‘Maybe later,’ said Erasmus, ‘you’re coming with me now.’
‘OK, but I feel sick.’
Erasmus put his arm around his shoulder and walked him outside.
The cold December air seemed to have a little sobering effect on Wayne and he managed to walk unaided to Erasmus’s car.
‘Get in, it’s unlocked.’
Wayne got in and slumped down into the passenger seat.
Erasmus turned up the heaters and set off. He selected the first Stone Roses album and slipped it into the single slot CD player.
The opening bars of ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ kicked in and the bass flooded the car. Wayne, who Erasmus thought had fallen asleep, began to hum along to the bass.
‘I love the Roses, my dad loved them. He was at Spike Island.’
Spike Island. A grotty piece of land stuck in the Mersey near Runcorn where the Stone Roses had held a legendary gig in 1991. Erasmus had been to the gig. It had been chaotic and the sound had been washed away by the winds swirling around the site. Somehow, it had become legendary, the nineties version of the Sex Pistols and the 100 Club.
‘I was there too, it was quite a day.’
‘Maybe, you saw my dad there,’
Wayne had opened his eyes now and was looking at Erasmus hopefully. Surely the kid didn’t think he had actually bumped into his father?
‘It’s a long time ago now but maybe, how old were you when he died?’
Wayne’s head fell back against the seat. He shut his eyes again.
‘I was eleven.’
‘I’m sorry, Wayne.’
Erasmus decided to take a calculated gamble, a dangerous one in the age of the internet. He lied.
‘My father died when I was a young boy too. It was tough growing up without him being around. Did you find that too?’
The truth was that his father was still very much alive and kicking. He was a retired journalist who lived in Oxford and who, a widower, was still, to a mixture of admiration and disgust on Erasmus’s part, very active on the senior dating scene.
Wayne gave a derisory snort. It wasn’t what Erasmus had hoped for.
‘My dad was a coward. He hanged himself in our shed in the back yard. He left me and Mum alone, the fucker.’
Erasmus felt his mouth open but then his brain applied the brake. He had been engaged by Ted to find out if there was a reason behind Wayne’s loss of form. Was it possible that there wasn’t anything untoward behind that loss of form, couldn’t it be the case that Wayne had a depressive tendency like he assumed his father must have done given he hanged himself? He was certainly drinking too much on his day off but didn’t a lot of teenagers when they got the chance? Erasmus had certainly spent many weekends in his local park as a teenager smoking illicit cigarettes and drinking cider. Maybe the email was just a red herring. It could just be the case that Wayne had slept with a couple of the girls who threw themselves at him and the other players but in the grand scheme of things, so what? He wasn’t married and, sure, Steph would be furious but it didn’t amount to blackmail type material surely? Erasmus was reaching the conclusion that what Everton Football Club had on their hands was a teenager going through a period of angst. Plus cą fucking change.
He turned to say something to Wayne but his eyes were closed and he was snoring.
Wayne slept all the way back to his house. When Erasmus reached Wayne’s street he found himself looking for the parked car across the street but it was gone.
This time when he hit the buzzer the gates opened straight away.
Steph came out and watched as Wayne staggered uneasily towards her like a newborn deer trying out its legs for the first time. She shook her head and then stood aside to let him in. She walked across to the car. Erasmus rolled down his window. She leaned down and nodded her head slowly.
‘Thank you.’
‘Not a problem,’ he said and was about to turn the ignition key when she placed her hand on his right arm and leaned in so close he could smell the sweetness of her body scent.
‘A deals a deal. I’ll be in touch. Have you got a card?’
Goosebumps formed at the back of Erasmus neck and then hurtled down his arms like they were in a race to get to Steph.
‘Sure.’ He dug out a card from the glove compartment and handed it to her.
She took it and placed it next to her mobile phone. She leaned in close.
‘I’ll call you.’
Erasmus just nodded. He knew if he spoke the lust caught in the back of his throat would be heard by her and he didn’t want to give her that victory. She let go of his arm and he pulled out of the drive, and headed back to Liverpool.
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