Extra Time. Michelle Betham

agent. That’s what he specialised in. But he’d seen something in Amber, and he wanted to be the one to guide her to exactly where she needed to be. As far as he was concerned she’d been wasted in regional TV. She deserved a bigger platform, and he’d gotten her exactly that. And the fact he now represented her stepson, too, well, Max couldn’t be happier. ‘The money is gonna come rolling in, I can feel it.’

      ‘And fuck how people may be feeling, is that it?’ Ryan sneered, his mind now on something other than his own problems.

      Max arched an eyebrow again. ‘Sorry? And who are you? Mr. I-give-everything-I-earn-away? This is what I do, Ryan. I’m an agent.’ He put his now-empty mug down on the counter behind him. ‘Anyway, what did you want to speak to me about?’

      Ryan leaned back against the wall, pushing a hand through his hair. He’d almost forgotten that it was him who’d asked Max to come over. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      Max looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Well, it sounded like it mattered when you called me yesterday.’

      ‘It can wait,’ Ryan sighed, his headache now a thing of the past. ‘It’s not important.’

      ‘You sure?’ Max asked, his expression conveying that he didn’t entirely believe what Ryan was telling him. ‘Look, Ryan, if there’s something going on…’

      ‘I’d tell you, Max. All right? I’d tell you. I promise.’

      That seemed to placate Max, but for how long Ryan had no idea. And it wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about what he was going to do, it was just that, after what Max had told him, he wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it right now.

      ‘Okay,’ Max said, keeping his eyes on Ryan. ‘Well, come on, then. Let’s get going. I want to have a word with Brandon before kick-off.’

      There were people Ryan wanted a word with, too. But Brandon Palmer wasn’t one of them.

      ‘Everything all right?’ Ronnie asked as Amber joined him up in the makeshift TV studio in the corner of the ground.

      ‘Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’

      Ronnie diverted his attention away from what was happening on the pitch outside to look at her. ‘Sorry, am I missing something here? Didn’t your husband just inform you, not an hour ago, that he has a secret son? A son who just happens to be making his debut as a Premiership player for a rival local club this afternoon?’

      ‘I’m dealing with it.’

      Ronnie turned back to look outside. Some of the players from both teams were warming up on the pitch, but there was no sign of Brandon Palmer. ‘Yeah, well, maybe you need to stop “dealing” with things in your usual way.’

      ‘And what way would that be?’

      ‘Burying your head in the sand and trying to pretend that things don’t exist, or that the problem will just go away if you leave it alone for long enough.’

      ‘Jesus, Ronnie, credit me with a little bit of intelligence, will you? We’re talking about a human being here, so he isn’t just going to “go away”, is he?’

      ‘No. He isn’t.’ He turned round and leaned back against the huge plate-glass window that looked out over the pitch. ‘So, have you met him yet?’

      ‘No. Not yet.’

      ‘And, are you going to?’

      ‘In a minute, yes. Jim’s just talking to him.’

      ‘Telling him what to say, huh?’