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Jamie Tartt had just completely missed a shot during practice.
“Whisle! WHISLE!!!! The fuck was that Tartt?” yelled out Roy’s loud, angry voice, then he paused and noted the way Jamie’s hands were wrapped up in his shirt. “Jamie what’s wrong?” he asked in a softer voice.
Jamie shrugged. “I don’t wanna talk abou’ i’ righ’ now Coach,” he answered.
“Jamie you can’t keep fucking keeping shit to yourself. It’s not fucking good for you,” Roy told the lad.
“Coach, I said I don’t wanna talk abou’ i’ righ’ now. I never said I won’t tell ya,” Jamie sighed. “And I will. Bu’ later. Swear down.”
“Fine,” Roy relented. “Just tell me.”
“Yep,” said Jamie looking down and kicking at the grass.
Sam looked at everyone else then started singing, “Jamie and Roy sitting in a tree-”
“Obisanya, if I hear anymore of that fucking song or you fucking singing it again, I swear you’re going to be running suicides for the rest of the fucking season. And that goes to anyone,” Roy warned.
Jamie smirked. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G-”
“You too Tartt,” Roy warned.
“All righ’. All righ’. Keep your ‘air on. I’m jus’ havin’ a laugh,” he said, putting his hands up in a display of surrender.
“Back to drills,” Coach Beard yelled.
Later when the rest of the team had left Jamie knocked on the coaches’ office door.
Roy looked up. “Come in Jamie,” he nodded.
“Hey Coach, can I talk to ya alone?” he asked.
Beard looked at the two of them and nodded to Nate. Nate and Beard left the room and closed the door.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Roy asked.
Jamie twisted his hands into the folds of his shirt as he sat down. “Um, ya know. Amsterdam,” he answered, nervously.
Roy’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Jamie you’re going to need to fucking explain yourself better cause I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about right now,” Roy sighed rubbing his forehead. Sometimes Jamie forgot that not everyone was in his head.
“You know… what I…uh told ya… abou’. Firs’ time when I wen’ with me dad,” Jamie stuttered.
“Yes I know. It’s not like I can ever fucking forget the fucking bullshit he put you through,” Roy nodded, while thinking, ‘First of all that man is not your fucking dad. He may be your biological father but he fucking not your dad.’
“But what does that have to do with anything right now?” Roy added.
Jamie scratched the back of his head. “The… uh… charity. It’s next week,” he explained.
Roy thought for a moment. “Fuck!” he drawled out, when he got what Jamie was trying to say. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry. I fucking forget about this. I should have said something to Rebecca about this shit.”
“It’s fine. I’ll jus’ deal with i’. That’s jus’ why I’m playin’ so off righ’ now,” Jamie shrugged. “Besides, I don’t wan’ more people knowin’.”
“I should have suggested we do something else,” Roy sighed to himself then looked at Jamie and said, “Jamie I would never tell her what you told me in confidence. I’m so sorry I forgot about this. This shit is fucking traumatizing for you isn’t it?”
Jamie shrugged. “I can ‘andle it. They’re no’ allowed to have sex with us righ’?” Jamie inquired.
At that moment Roy remembered during Jamie’s first auction, Jamie had asked if he had to a sex with whoever won him and he teased Jamie and told that he needed to give her money value. Then Keeley, who had been his girlfriend at the time, joined in the joke. He remembered how wide Jamie’s eyes were and the way he stormed off. At the time Roy assumed Jamie was pissed but now he wondered if Jamie was trying to hide his fear, maybe even a panic attack. Jamie had trusted Roy and Roy had lied to him and brought up something really traumatic for him.
This time Roy looked Jamie dead in the eyes and said, “Of course they’re not fucking allowed. And I’m so fucking sorry. That was fucking wrong of me. You fucking trusted me and I missed lead you and made I joke about something traumatic for you.”
“Wha’ do ya mean?” asked Jamie.
Roy sighed. “That first time, you remember you asking me something similar. And me fucking joking about it and tell you yes they were,” he explained sadly. Roy realized something in that moment, Jamie trusted him the most, probably more than he should. Jamie always believed anything that Roy told him. And Roy had taken advantage of that. Maybe he didn’t realize how much Jamie trusted him but that didn’t matter. He still had hurt Jamie. Guilt raked through his whole being. “Jamie I’m so sorry. You trusted me.”
Jamie chuckled. “There’s noffin’ to be sorry abou’ Royo. It’s fine. Ya ‘ad no idea. And of course ya would tease me, ya hated me,” Jamie chuckled, rolling his eyes.
“But it wasn’t right of me. I fucking hurt you. You were, are, so innocent and I took advantage of that,” Roy said gruffly, looking down, furious with himself.
Jamie reached over and grabbed Roy’s cheeks and gently made Roy look him in the eyes. “Roy, it’s fine,” he said slowly and firmly. “I forgave ya ages ago. I figured it was a joke. I was a li’le mad bu’ I’m not mad anymore. I’m no’ bothered by i’. Ya ge’ me?”
Roy took a deep breath. He knew he would probably beat himself up for the rest of life about this but he also knew that Jamie was telling the truth. Jamie wasn’t hurt by it anymore. Roy nodded his head.
“Good,” said Jamie. “Now I need ya to pu’ the pas’ in the pas’ and ‘elp me deal with the now.”
Roy laughed. “Yeah, I can fucking do that.”
Jamie gave him a big smile. “Good. So coach, which one of us is drivin’ home?”
“Me. You drive like a fucking manic. The roads are fucking deadly when Jamie fucking Tartt is behind the fucking wheel. It’s so bad they send out a fucking warning to stay off the roads,” Roy answered.
Jamie laughed. “Righto, coach. Though I think you’re thinkin’ of Colin, no’ me. ‘E’s a safety hazard on the road no’ me.”
Roy shrugged. “Fair point but I’m still driving.”
It was the night of the Auction, and Roy was driving. Every few seconds he glanced at Jamie. Jamie’s face was pale and he just didn’t look like himself. It wasn’t his hair. That was normal, dyed “Walnut Mist”, as he put it, and messy but cute. No, the red flag was his outfit. He was wearing a plain white shirt under a black suit, which was all wrong because Jamie would only wear black to a funeral, otherwise he wore bold or bright colors. It was all wrong, there was no color. Jamie looked good but wrong. Though Roy mused Jamie looked good in anything.
“See somethin’ ya like?” Jamie tried to ask in a joking voice but his voice shook, giving away his nerves.
Roy shook his head. “You look fucking good Jamie,” he responded.
Jamie gave Roy a tight smile. “Thanks love.”
“You good?” Roy asked, concerned.
Jamie let out a half chuckle, half scoff. “Nervous, ya know. Bu’ whacha expect?”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Roy promised.
“Thanks,” Jamie whispered, twisting his hands into his shirt.
“I fucking mean it,” Roy told the footballer.
Jamie smiled. “I know,” he nodded.
They got to the event and Roy got out of the car, gave the keys to the vault and opened Jamie’s door. Jamie stepped out of the car and the paparazzi surrounded them. “Jamie, Jamie,” someone was shouting. “Over here.”
Roy stuck up his middle finger and pushed through the crowd. “You good?” Roy checked in when they had entered the building.
Jamie nodded.
“Jamie, Roy,” called out a feminine voice with an Essex accent.
“Hi, Keeley,” Jamie responded with a smile.
Roy grunted his greeting.
“Come on,” she said, leading them to their table.
Roy sat down and looked around. Keeley was sitting with them. “I pulled strings with the boss,” she said with a playful voice.
“Mint,” said Jamie leaning back and looking around. His face fell when he spotted Cheryl and she winked at him. Jamie glubbed.
Roy put a hand on Jamie’s back. “It’s going to be okay,” he muttered.
Jamie nodded.
They had started on the soup course. Sam looked at Jamie and smirked and asked, “Hoping so hot chick would win you tonight, Tartt?” trying to lightly tease his best friend.
Jamie paled even farther. “Excuse me,” he said and got up and ran to the bathroom.
Roy turned to glare at Sam but saw that Sam’s expression had changed to one of concern.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “What’s going on with him?”
Roy grunted. “Not my story to tell. If you want to know then ask him,” Roy answered. Roy sighed, deciding to forgive Sam seeing that Sam had no clue how traumatic this whole situation was to Jamie, got up and followed Jamie. He found Jamie leaning over a toilet, puking everything that was in his stomach at the moment. Roy winced at the sounds that were being torn from Jamie’s throat. He walked over and started rubbing Jamie’s back. “That's it. Let it all out. It’s okay.”
After a few moments Jamie leaned back panting. Roy tore a piece of toilet paper and wiped Jamie’s face clean. “Sorry,” Jamie muttered.
“It’s fine,” Roy said. “Hey, take the time you need right now. But we need to go back out there, eventually.”
“I’m ready,” Jamie said, after he got up and washed his face. “I just won’t eat anythin’.
Then he added when Roy glared at him, “I promise I’ll ea’ when we get home. Swear down.”
Roy could see that Jamie was being honest. “Okay,” Roy agreed and followed Jamie out the bathroom. After they sat down Jamie just leaned into Roy.
Sam looked at Jamie and said, “Look I’m sorry. I don’t understand why you got so upset but clearly it had to do with what I said so for that I’m sorry.”
“Thanks mate,” Jamie shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m not upse’ with ya. I know ya didn’t mean anyffin’ by i’.It’s me own faul’ for bein’ an overdramatic moody bitch.”
Sam sighed and shook his head.
Roy growled. “Don’t talk like that about yourself babe.” He really hated it when Jamie said stuff like that. Stuff Roy knew that Jamie’s “father” had said to him.
“Sorry,” Jamie muttered.
“Why did it upset you?” Sam asked tentatively, returning them to the previous subject.
Jamie sighed. “I don’t really wanna talk abou’ i’. Maybe another time. Though ya ‘ave to understand it’s a li’le traumatic for me, so I may never wanna tell ya,” Jamie answered. “I ‘ope ya can understand.”
Sam gave Jamie a smile and a nod, which Jamie returned, though a little tightly.
After dinner was done, Rebecca got on the stage and said, “Thank you for being here.”
Roy tuned her out and carefully watched Jamie. He silently cursed her when he realized left Jamie for last. Personally he preferred if Jamie went first so he could just get this over with.
Finally Rebecca said, “And the star of the night, our star of the field, the one and only, Jamie Tartt.”
Jamie took a deep breath and walked up to the stage. Roy shook his head at how pale Jamie was at this moment. ‘How does no one realize how uncomfortable he is?’ Roy wondered.
“So do we have any starting-”
Cheryl screamed out. “Twenty thousand pounds.”
If possible Jamie paled even more.
Roy shook his head. No way was Cheryl winning him. “Fifty thousand pounds,” he called. He didn’t care how much money it cost him. He was going to protect Jamie.
“Fifty-five thousand pounds,” she called back.
“Eighty thousand.”
“Eighty-five thousand.”
“Ninety thousand.”
“A hundred thousand.”
Roy thought for a moment. Time to be dramatic. “Four hundred thousand,” he called.
Cheryl scowled in disappointment. Everyone else was just frozen in shock.
“Well,” Rebecca said shakily, “Roy Kent wins Jamie Tartt for four hundred thousand pounds.”
Jamie looked at Roy with shock in his eyes as he sat back down. “Ya weren’t kiddin’,” he said in shock.
Roy scoffed. “Of course not,” he said. “And I’ll do this again and again.”
‘Though the auction wasn’t going to happen again. Not if Roy had anything to say about it,’ Roy thought as Rebecca introduced the music of the night.