Chapter 100: [100] "Zara Part 2"
Remember she was a PR and media scout now...for Paris Royal of all teams. But what did she need Luc for? always finding ways to reach out.
He didn’t reply, but he didn’t block the number either. He stared at the text until the phone screen went dark, reflecting the image of his own face.
She was probing.
She knew that SC Valois had just dumped millions of euros into a locker room that was previously only held together by Mateo’s sheer physical presence and Luc’s goals. She knew that introducing youth players, Champions League egos, a La Masia prodigy, and Serie A veteran into such a team lacking one of its pillars, was a recipe for disaster.
She wanted a scoop from the drama. That was the focus of her new job apparently.
Blocking her would signal that the text had actually bothered him, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
The sliding glass door rattled on its tracks and was shoved open with far more force than necessary.
Luc didn’t turn around immediately, assuming it was Hugo returning with another anxiety-riddled question, or maybe someone else stepping out for some air.
Instead, a blast of expensive cologne announced the arrival.
"Hurry up," a voice complained.
Luc turned his head. Bachra Goza, the nineteen-year-old La Masia talent, was standing in the doorway. He was shivering violently, his arms wrapped around his torso, the designer silk shirt he wore... stupidly in this weather, was doing absolutely nothing to repel the temperatures.
Bachra extended his hand, holding out his phone.
"Take it," Bachra muttered, his teeth practically bitting themselves. "Hurry up. It’s freezing out here, and she won’t stop nagging me. I swear--"
Luc frowned, pushing off the railing. "Who?"
"My sister," Bachra grumbled, shoving the phone into Luc’s hand before immediately turning back toward the warmth of the dining hall. "I wonder how you guys know eachother, but I’m going back inside before I get frostbite."
The glass door shut, leaving Luc standing alone on the balcony with someone elses phone in his hand.
He looked at the caller ID. It simply read... Command Center.
Luc lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Did he go back inside?" a sharp, distinctly female voice demanded. It was entirely devoid of pleasantries.
Luc blinked, the pieces suddenly snapping together in his exhausted brain. Bachra Goza. Zara Goza. The surname wasn’t exactly common, but in the chaotic whirlwind of the transfer window, he simply hadn’t made the connection.
"Zara?" Luc asked, his voice thick with disbelief.
"Of course it’s me," Zara replied, the faint sound of keyboard buttons being pressed echoed in the background of the call. "Is my idiot brother back inside, or is he still standing in the freezing cold with that rubbish shirt he chose to wear?"
"He went inside," Luc confirmed. "You’re actually Bachra’s sister? You couldn’t be more different."
"Unfortunately, yes," Zara said. "He has the football talent of a small god and the common sense of a concussed pigeon. But that is not why I demanded he hand you the phone. We need to talk, Beaumont."
"About what?" Luc said, ignoring the fact that she just hyped her brother up to him. A small god was going a bit far. At least it showed she was supportive.
"About the fact that your two newly promoted academy defenders just tried to cage fight," Zara said smoothly.
"How do you know about that? It happened less than twenty minutes ago."
"Because beneath Bachra’s not properly executed playboy, rising star gimmick, he is a chronic loudmouth gossip," Zara stated matter-of-factly. "He was texting me live, play-by-play commentary of the altercation from under the table."
Luc let out a breath. The flashy, arrogant teenager who acted like he was too good for the French league was secretly reporting squad drama to his older sister like a kid telling on his classmates.
"You did well, Captain...at least according to what he said" Zara continued, her voice shifting into the tone that Luc found more familiar. "But I don’t think you’ve stitched up the wound just yet. I need to know how you are going to get those two to play nice."
Luc rubbed the bridge of his nose, the exhaustion of the day weighing down his thinking. Dealing with Valérie’s demands, Klaus’s ego, Idriss’s silent challenges, Henri’s requested overhaul...it has all been a bit much.
"Zara, it’s nearly midnight," Luc said, his voice dropping into a non-negotiable tone. "I’m not doing this right now with you."
"It requires immediate attention--"
"Tomorrow then," Luc interrupted. "Six in the morning. At the park before my morning training session. Be there, maybe we can talk then. Alright?"
There was now silence on the other end of the line. The keyboard clacking sound stopped.
"That’s fine," Zara finally said.
"Whoever gets there first should buy coffee," Luc replied, and hung up.
---
Friday morning was brutal, Luc didn’t sleep well but he was up.
The sun hadn’t even begun to consider rising by the time Luc parked his Porsche near the entrance of the park. A thick, icy fog clung to the ground, common of an early...early morning. The morning air was so cold, snapping against his cheeks the moment he stepped out of the heated interior of the car.
He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his training jacket, his breath forming thick white clouds, as he walked toward the central fountain.
She was already there.
Zara Goza stood perfectly still by the edge of the fountain. She was wrapped in a charcoal-gray wool coat that fell to her knees, a thick black scarf wound tightly around her neck. She looked like those reporters that just waited around for headlines they could be the first to report on.
In her hands, she was wearing gloves and held a cardboard tray carrying two large, steaming cups.
"You’re minutes late," Zara said as Luc approached. Her breath visible in the freezing air.
"Traffic," Luc lied.
"Not at--" She checked her watch. "Six-thirty in the morning? Sorry ass lie." She extended the tray toward him. "Take it. Black coffee."
Luc raised an eyebrow, taking the hot paper cup. The warmth seeped instantly through his gloves. "I did say the first person gets coffee."
Zara, turning to walk down the gravel path. "Walk with me. If I stand still any longer, my joints will lock up."
Luc walked beside her. The crunch of the ground beneath their boots was the only sound in the empty park.
"Bachra," Luc started, getting straight to the point. "He acts like he’s the hottest on earth, but he’s feeding you updates under the table. That’s quite funny."
"Don’t blame him. La Masia teaches its products that doubt is a fatal weakness," Zara explained, staring straight ahead as they walked. "They program these boys to project absolute arrogance. But beneath the gold chains and the absurdly bright shirts, Bachra just became a nineteen-year-old kid living in a foreign country. I’m sure he’s terrified of failing."
Luc gave a nod of understanding, taking a sip of the coffee.
"Which is why the overall environment needs to be stable, for his sake." Zara turned her sharp eyes toward Luc. "Let’s talk about Zack and Yannick. Your intervention last night was physically effective, but chemistry wise...mmm, not so much."
"They are childish. Jyst because someone ran circles around them, they blamed each other to avoid looking incompetent in front of the rest of the squad. I honestly don’t know how they got along before being called up."
Zara said, nodding once. "You need to look at them like a captain. Why did the coach put two eighteen-year-olds up against an elite Brazilian sprinter in the first place?"
"To test the 4-3-3 shape."
"To test them," Zara corrected coldly. "Don’t you think the coach knew they couldn’t stop the winger?"
Luc stopped walking.
He looked at Zara. This wasn’t the robotic overprotective best friend he knew, it was now the overprotective elder sister, doing her best to stabilise the environment for her brother."
"I’m surprised." Luc said, his eyes narrowing.
Zara stopped and turned to face him, the fog swirling around her dark coat.
"Beaumont. I know how terrified young men get when their entire life’s worth of dreams, are suddenly placed on their shoulders. It happened to my brother when he wasn’t able to make first team, but you guys saw something in him." She gripped her coffee cup tightly. "When Bachra came to France, he threw up in my bathroom sink before he signed his contract with Valois. These players aren’t machines. They are incredibly fragile humans."
The cold, impenetrable exterior she always wore...the robotic mannerism, the emotionless stares, it wasn’t her. It was a carefully constructed armor designed to protect the people she cared about, starting with her brother, then Rose.
"It’s nice seeing you care," Luc said.
Zara rolled her eyes toward the gray canopy the trees made. "I know, I know, it ruins my brand as a soulless sociopath."
Luc let out laugh. It startled even him.
"Your secret is safe with me," Luc said, a small smile playing on his lips.
The wall between them had lessened just a bit.