Page 24 of Twisted Ruck

"I agree too," Jay said. "Frosty is right, we would have won anyway, but we deserved to win by more."

"Fucking right we did," Atlas said. "If you ask me, Franklin is a prick. He shouldn't have got away with it."

Storm turned around and looked through the gap. "That's what I was going to say. Next time we play them, one of us needs to stay on his ass and keep him in line. Seems like his team isn't doing it."

Frost leaned forward and grinned over at me. I nodded in return.

It seemed like the two of them found common ground; hating on the referee and Franklin Hicks. I also shared their dislike of the big fullback. His arrogance would make the combined egos on this flight look humble. He thought he was God's gift to rugby, but I wanted to smash my fist into his face every time I saw him.

Since he thrived on attention, I ignored him instead.

"Works for me," Atlas said. "Asshole needs his ass kicked. Instead, he gets all the big endorsements. Anyone would think he's good-looking, the way they carry on about him."

"I mean, he's not ugly," Frost said with a shrug.

Storm and Atlas both stared at him like he was out of his mind.

Frost shrugged. "I'm just saying is all. It's not like I have plans to go there. He's not my type anyway."

"I'm pretty sure his type is inflatable," Storm said dryly. He was about to add something else, but closed his mouth.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was going to say. At this point in a conversation, he would have suggested Franklin paid for sex. He wouldn't disrespect Chelsea by making a comment like that now.

"Makes no sense," Ramsey said. He turned from the window and stared at Storm.

"What makes no sense?" I asked.

His brow creased deeper. "Inflatable woman. Prick like him would pop her."

His tone was so deadpan, it took me a moment to realise he'd made a joke. When it sank in, I burst out laughing.

The other guys followed a heartbeat later.

"Goat has a good point," Storm said. "A prick like him would pop her like a balloon." He grinned at Ramsey, like he just realised the guy existed.

Ramsey nodded and returned his attention to the window as the plane lifted off from the tarmac.

"I never knew you were funny," I told him.

He shrugged. "Sometimes."

I suspected it was more than sometimes, but he kept his observations to himself.

"I went to school with a guy who thought he was hilarious," I said slowly. "He kept cracking jokes and doing stupid stuff. Slapstick things, you know? The only person who thought he was funny was him. It's better to tell one joke that's actually funny than a million that aren't."

Ramsey turned back to me slowly. "What happened?"

"To that guy?" I asked. "I think he went into accounting or something like that. Shame when you think about it. He likedtrying to make people laugh. If he had better jokes, he could have been a stand-up comedian." I shrugged. "I guess you can't always follow your dreams."

Ramsey grunted. "Can if you want to."

"Are you following yours?" I asked. This was the first time we had anything in the way of a conversation. For some reason, I felt compelled to keep it going.

His dark blue eyes suggested he wasn't inclined to respond, but finally he said, "Mostly."

"Not completely?" I asked.

"Wanted to be a fullback," he said. He pressed his lips together hard, a visible sign of his lingering bitterness.

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