The atmosphere zapped with electricity all day. Fans were steadily filling the public corridors and the bar. There was a rowdy vibe permeating right the way down to the changing room. Lewd lyrics to team songs were filtering through the walls making us all snigger—well until the lyrics of one song which centred on a female coach started to flutter through the plasterboard. The team were quick to strike up their own rowdy conversation at that point, which made me smile. The BPL had more of a football vibe than that of serene afternoon cricket.
The boys had gone through a day of relaxing and conditioning. None of them was thrilled with the Ashtanga yoga practice I’d insisted on, but it was the best thing for loosening up muscles. Obviously, the Lancashire Lion didn't participate.
Waller was in the middle of his game speech when my phone rang. I held it in my hand like it might stop it ringing if I clutched it tight enough—it didn't. Waller turned to me. It was fair to say he wasn’t amused. "Do you want to get that?" One eyebrow lifted and I noticed a bead of sweat was gathered on his forehead.
I slid the phone under my leg. "Not really, no."
Breathing a sigh of relief when the trilling stopped I nodded at Waller’s words. He was telling them to keep it tight, to play for the inner circle, to outside fielders to minimise fours. There wasn't anything you could do to stop a six once it was off the bat but fast fielding could minimise fours, assuming the fielders weren't snoozing on the job.
The phone rang again and everyone's eyes landed on me. "Sorry?" I offered, sliding it out from under my sweaty leg. "Hi." I could have tried to whisper, but the whole room was just waiting for my conversation to roll out so lowering my voice wasn't going to make it any better. "The keys are in the top drawer," I told Mum, who was flapping down the line. I groaned and waited for her to stop, rolling my eyes while ignoring the fact my armpits were sprouting sweat like a shower. “They are, I checked the other day."
"No, they aren’t," she snapped. "Your dad is worried we won't get there in time."
I glanced at the clock on the wall. "Play's not for two hours. I think you will be fine."
"Which drawer?" I can hear the banging and shifting of the kitchen cupboards.
This time I did lower my voice. "It's in the man drawer," I hissed. "The one under the microwave."
A snigger found its way to my ears and I narrowed my eyes at Anderson who grinned at me broadly.
"Ah yes.”The jingle of the spare keys met my ears down the phone, “See you soon." Mum hung up, and I slid the phone back under my leg, frowning at Anderson, daring him to say something.
“What's the matter, Anderson, do you need a woman drawer in your house to keep your shit organized?" He glared at me but didn't speak again.
Waller didn't put up with any crap, and I didn't blame him for ribbing me in front of the guys, “If you’ve finished your domestic crisis, Rivers, we will move on.” The news was that the easy team we thought we had first up had been getting into the swing of things over the training period, and worse than that, they'd hired former Surrey star, Blake Jones. The Lancashire Lion and Blake Jones had once come to blows when Jones had taken his snide comments one step too far. The Umpire had refused to let the Lion play. In cricket, they are called ‘slides’ and yeah they could be nasty, the women’s team were just as bad as the men's, but it was part of the sport, you just took it. You didn't punch someone. Not unless you wanted to get fined and benched.
When Waller had finished, he ran a hand through his ever-thinning hair. I was sure an island had developed on the top of his forehead since we'd all started together. He nodded at the Lion.
My mouth hung open. He wasn't going to actually speak, was he? Was he? Yes, he damn well was. Clamping my mouth shut, I focused on the laces of his trainers as his low voice with that northern burr filled the room. "Tonight's not going to be easy," he rumbled and I was disappointed in myself to find my stomach squeezed with his words.
"Not if you punch an opposing team member," someone muttered. Anderson again, I reckoned, but I was too scared to look up.
You could have heard a pin drop. I'm almost entirely sure we all stopped breathing. Waller's skin tone deepened into a dark purple.
I could almost sense the icy stare land on Anderson and melt him into a puddle. "There's no reason to talk about the past," the Lion's voice was measured. "This is a new game, a new sport almost." I was sure his eyes flickered to me, and I knew he wanted to add that you'd never find a female coach so high up the ranks in test cricket.
Yeah, well fuck him, this wasn't test cricket.
The whole time he talked I tried hard to not look at him. When he spoke, it reminded me of what he used to be like when I was young and would watch him in interviews after a game. When the sun had been shining on his bright hair, and his skin had glowed from being outside all day and he’d been so goddamn gorgeous I thought he was a god. Back before I'd known he was an arsehole. Back when I thought he was the best thing to ever happen to my teenage self.
How wrong could my teenage self have been?
I hadn't thought about him in that way for nine years, but still, there he was looming large in the changing room, his voice a low and melodic hum that didn't sound like it could call an umpire a fucking idiot. But it could. I wondered how he’d cope with the cameras and interviews after the game? T20 was a spectator sport, and the crowd expected to see their players afterwards.
I didn’t know if they’d want to see him if we lost.
When he finished, I stood awkwardly, adjusting my vest top as he walked aside. I went through some stretches with them all, reminded them of the warm-ups they were to do before the toss was made, and then I slipped away. I wanted to be in the foyer for when my family arrived.
Arrive they did, with the little guy screeching as he pelted towards me. I smiled up at Mum and Dad but noticed Dad's eyes transfixed behind me, his mouth slack around the jaw. At first, I thought he'd suffered a stroke, but when I turned my head slightly to see what had captured his attention I spotted Gemma leading the Hell Cats—the cheerleaders nickname—out through the foyer. I don't think a single man uttered a word as they strolled on by with their long tanned legs striding from under minuscule hot pink skirts. Gemma high-fived me and came to a halt. "Hey, Rivers, how’s it going in there?"
I gave a half-hearted shrug and swallowed down the wave of sick that was eating away with acidity at my insides. Anyone would think it was me playing the game. "I'm just delivering some tickets." I motioned to the envelope in my hand and to my family who were still stood bewildered by the towering beauty at my side.
"The team will do great," she said and started to motion to the girls. "We'll catch up after for a drink, right?"
I looked at my family, and Sammy, his friend and my dad all nodded. Mum didn't look too sure.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a flurry of activity and the flash of bulbs. The Lancashire Lion was making his way through the foyer, his tall body encased in the player's tracksuit and his face smiling for the cameras. Two faced arsehole.
"Jase, Jase," a female reporter called, and the Lion stopped and smiled. "Can you answer some questions?" The journalist looked like she was about to come in her pants just from being in such proximity to his six foot something bulk of brooding manliness. I don’t think she could have angled her groin much closer to his without facing the possibility of a restraining order being slapped on her slut-like hips. It made me unexpectedly want to punch her in the face.
"Sure, Elena," he schmoozed back. What, he was on a first name basis with a reporter yet couldn't even call his fitness coach by her name?
Gah. That man.
"Come on guys. I'll help you find your seats before I go down to the stands." I ushered them on and tried to ignore the pinch in my stomach when I saw Sammy's face crumple as he walked past the Lion, but I didn't stop to introduce them.
The seats were good, one of the very limited perks to my job. Right above where I would be sitting with the rest of the coaching team, their spot gave them a direct view of the stumps. The anticipation in the air was palpable. The first game of the tournament was guaranteed to provide a night of entertainment. A group of supporters were singing and chanting, sloshing plastic glasses full of beer as they swayed in time with their words.
"Look at the seats you have, you guys." I nodded with satisfaction as they measured the space between their seats and the pitch.
The little guy flung his arms around my middle and squeezed hard, nearly pushing all the air out of my lungs. "Thank you, Aunty Lyssi." I squeezed him right back and then ruffled his friend Cole's hair. "Enjoy the match, guys. Listen to Nanny and Grandad, and not too much fizzy pop okay? You've got to sleep at some point tonight." It was going to be a late one. The game didn't start until eight, and with forty overs of six balls each, it could take at least a couple of hours. And that didn’t include the midway break so Gemma and her crew could go and shake their thing.
Waving them goodbye, I made my way down the steps, not bothering to head back through the inner corridor of the stadium. Waller would be doing his final speech and that was his bag, not mine. I was here to make sure they were fit, not to give them a pep talk before they entered the stadium. Two rows down from where I'd left the family, a foot stuck out and nearly tripped me down the steps. 'Watch it, Rivers."
I stared in confusion, my brain struggling to make sense of what I saw, but then I squealed as Betsy gave me one of her most sarcastic grins. I almost jumped into her lap. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?" I flung my arms around my friend's neck, her red curls tickling my nose.
"It's my mate’s first game, of course I'm here."
"But shouldn't you be in training for England?"
"Meh, what's one night off?"
These words meant more than anything. Women cricketers didn't take 'one night off'. We couldn't afford to.
I was lost for words, so I just squeezed her until my arms ached. "Anyway, I want to see how that sexist pig plays."
I shushed her with my hand. "Betsy, you can't say that here."
There were already people watching us. I knew the men behind me were leering as I wore what looked like a cheerleader's outfit. I'd opted for the boys training shorts, but the bright pink vest top was all too eye-catching and revealing in the cleavage area.
"I've got to get down there." I motioned to the canopy, pitch side.
"Sure thing." She waved me away before calling me back. "Hey, Alyssa."
"Yep." I turned and shielded my eyes from the late evening sun.
"You look damn hot in that vest," she shouted, loud enough for those around her to hear. A round of applause broke out and with my cheeks blushing I offered the crowd a small bow.
As I worked my way down the rest of the stairs, I spotted the team out on the pitch. Icy eyes under hooded lids were focused on my offensive pink top. I ignored their derisive gaze and went to Waller's side. In truth, there wasn't anything for me to do now; if I'd done my job properly then the game should be in the bag. Knowing this, didn't stop the waves of nervous nausea wash through me as I sat down and gripped my seat, my palms slicking against the smooth plastic. I watched as the coin tossed high in the air and landed on the floor. The golden head of the Lion leant over the coin as the call was made.
He chose to bat first and was first up to the crease. My stomach tied in knots as I waited to see if he could achieve the sixes he'd thrown in my face during practice, in a live match.