Page 54 of Second Chances

“That’s awful.” My heart breaks for the little girl. I can’t believe her mother can be so terrible to her. I want to find the ‘bitch’ and smack her hard in her brand new nose. Hopefully I’d be able to misshape it again. “Of course, I’ll take them.”

I pull apart the stack of dance school fees, take out seven hundred and fifty pounds, and hand it over to Victor. He gives me the tablets in return, and I open the lid of the super strong ones and take one immediately without any water. I feel the relief kick in straight away.

“Damn, they are good.”

“Told you.” Victor smiles, checks the money, and places it in his pocket. “I better get home and give my daughter the good news. Nice doing business with you, Elena.”

“And you.”

I lock the door behind Victor and return to the office. I make a note of how much I need to pay back and pop the remaining money in my bag ready to pay it into the bank.

I’m sure Amy wouldn’t mind anyway.

With a much lighter step and zero pain, I lock up the dance school and head home where I plan to spend the rest of the evening in the gym.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ryan

“Another beer?” James hands me the beverage as I jump for joy when Tottenham Hotspur scores a second goal against Arsenal—their greatest rivals.

“Yes!” I fist pump the air and Matthew, an Arsenal fan, groans in disappointment. The score is now two-one with ten minutes to go in the semi-final of the FA cup. “Come on you, Spurs,” I sing, and Matthew growls in frustration.

“Bloody scum.” He takes his beer from James and gulps a large mouthful down. Scum isn’t really derogatory when it comes to football and these two teams—it’s just something the fans have always called each other.

Leaning forward on my chair, I watch intently as the minutes countdown. Five minutes from full time, and Arsenal gets a free kick on the edge of the box. I think I must hold my breath the entire time their leading free kick taker lines up the ball. He’s well known for being able to score from this position. I just have to hope my team can defend it.

“Come on…come on,” Matthew chants, peeling the label of his beer bottle off with nervous tension.

The Arsenal player runs forward, kicks the ball, and I let out a long exhale when it flies straight over the top of the goal net.

“No!” Matthew places his head in his hands. “Fucking idiot.”

“It might just not be your day.” James takes a seat and pats his best friend on the back. He doesn’t really care what team wins today. He’s only interested in the final when the winner of this match will take on Chelsea, his favorite team.

One minute left and Tottenham loses the ball in Arsenal’s half. I can barely watch as the players pass the ball quickly between each other toward our goal.

“No, no, no.” This time it’s my turn to plead.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Matthew urges as they get nearer and nearer.

James sits back and sips his beer, confident in the fact that whatever team gets through today, his team will beat them. His confidence will be his downfall.

The ball is passed to their striker, and placing my hands over my eyes, my heart beats rapidly as Arsenal’s fifty million pound player shoots. Tottenham’s goalkeeper gets the tip of his fingers to the ball and pushes it over the net and away from the goalmouth.

“Yes!” I jump up in the air and fist pump again as the final whistle goes, and Tottenham’s officially declared the winner.

Matthew gets to his feet and holds his hand out to me.

“Good game.”

I shake it.

“It really was.” I’m actually stunned. Tottenham’s form hasn’t been the best the past couple of weeks.

“Now to beat Chelsea.” Matthew winks at me.

“No chance of that,” James interrupts.

---