20.

Euphoria was the word of the hour.

The men’s, women’s and youth teams were, on the whole, in high spirits. Our employees, admins, and sponsors were over the moon. The fan base was as united as it was realistically possible to get in the age of social media.

Emma and I walked around town, popping into shops, stopping for selfies, soaking up the vibe.

I checked the morale of the first team. Since we'd appointed Jackie as manager, almost everyone was happier. A record number of players were on Superb. Vimsy had spent the whole morning beaming. I thought a miserable Livia was beautiful, but a happy Livia was something to behold.

"What are you smiling at?" said Emma. How did she always know when I was thinking about other women?

"Just excited. I've never met a property magnet before."

"What?" she said, laughing at my mistake.

"I think it's this road," I said, slowly, trying to put all the landmarks together. "And then to the right."

"Check the app," she whined.

"I don't want to check the app. I want to find it using my brain. And my intuition."

"Christ. Aren't you tired? You pushed yourself on the weekend and you’ve been going non-stop today."

"I feel fucking amazing," I said, and it was true. "Look, it's more fun this way. What you do is you ask yourself, if I was Henri, where would I live?"

She shook her head, but she squeezed my hand. "You're a bit of a nutjob sometimes."

"Like what?" I said, mock offended.

"Like not looking at a map when you go somewhere the first time. Like being really super happy when you lose a job."

"I didn't lose a job. I gained a friend."

She took her hand away so she could laugh properly - it took over her whole body. She looked up at me with great affection, then slipped her arm through mine. "I think Henri would live this way."

***

After a pleasant, meandering walk, and a quick final bicker about the use of technology, we arrived, guided most of the way by my splendid intuition, at Henri's new house, and the club's unofficial new digs. From the front it was a large but unremarkable building. When we went inside, Henri gave us the tour. The thing was enormous. It went back and back and back - it had merged with the house behind at some point in the past.

"Henri," said Emma. "It's amazing. I'm impressed. But Max made me walk in a loop and I'm hungry. Take me to your hams."

They departed, and I pottered through the fire doors - until recently the property had been a B and B and had to conform to modern regulations. Charlotte was in the farthest room. "Hey," I said, poking my head in. She looked up from her task - she was getting ready for training. A few suitcases and boxes showed that she was still very much moving in. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, Max."

I worried about her. She was a top talent and she'd put her trust in me when, like her friends, she could have hitched a ride with more of a sure thing. "Well played, yesterday."

"Thanks." She checked her studs and put her boots into their private little carry case. She picked up her training socks and glanced up, surprised that I was still there. She smiled. "I know that face. You've been watching old movies and need to tell someone about it."

I smiled back, then looked at the carpeted floors. How long until Henri ripped out the carpet and put parquet down? "Are we good?"

She blinked. "Yes, Max. We're good."

"You put a lot of faith in me. I want... I need..."

"I know. We're good." She dropped the socks into her kit bag and pushed her fringe away. It fell back instantly. "There have been times when I've had doubts. But not any more."

"What? Because I ran around like a headless chicken?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't talk like that. I know what you did." She glared at me until I gave her a little nod. "No, it was Henri. He's letting me rent this room for a quarter of my salary."

I knew what she was on. Three hundred and fifty pounds a month for this room in this location was dirt cheap. "Huh. I don't get it."

"He thinks we'll get promoted. Thinks I'll get a new contract. Thinks we'll get promoted again. Get a new contract again. Always a quarter. He'll get paid in the end."

I tried - not very hard - to hide a smile. "So you believe in our little project because Henri's not very good at calculating risk versus return?"

She didn't smile. "Yes. I think he's exceptional at it."

"He missed the part when you wake up one day and realise you don't want to live with Pascal and Youngster."

"And the Triplets," she said.

"Oh, are they here, too? Henri moves fast."

Charlotte zipped up her bag. "We've got a striker. Loads of midfielders. What this house needs," she said, hands on hips like a bossy toddler, "is some defenders. A goalie. Get on it."

"How come you're allowed to boss me around?"

"Because you're in my bedroom."

I looked down and took two careful steps back. I was outside the frame of the door. "How about now?"

"It's a grey area." She hauled up her bag and gestured that I should get out of her way. She closed the door, locked it, and as she was about to head down the corridor, she paused. She looked around, leaned close to me, and whispered, "Can you talk to Henri about the carpets?"

I was astonished. "You want to change them to wooden floors?"

"No," she said, shaking her head violently. "But Henri does. Pascal, too. Apparently they don't have carpet in their countries. That's mad, innit? No carpet. Your feet would freeze. I need my feet, Max. Youngster doesn't think it's his right to have a vote. The Triplets are happy to be here. So it's me on me own holding back the tide."

A smile played around the edges of my lips. This kind of caper used to get my juices flowing, but I'd been squeezed and squeezed by the demands of all my jobs. I had one less, now, and felt the old brain cogs clicking into gear. "Henri's stubborn, and surprisingly ruthless. If you approach him head on, you will lose. You have to disarm him and charm him. Watch."

Hope came into her eyes, and she followed me through the many fire doors. She put her bag down in the huge, shared living room. Emma was on a bean bag, eating from a plate while reading what turned out to be the menu from a local Portuguese restaurant. I briefly imagined how fun it would be to live here with loads of cool people. Oh, and it spilled out onto a massive patio. Holy shit, this was top!

"Max," said Charlotte.

"Right." We went to the kitchen where Henri was desalinating his peanuts or whatever these super-hosts did. "Oh!" I said, and his head snapped up, already smiling. I made my face go big. "This place! It's top! The more I look, the more I see. I'm jealous, mate. Jealous."

"No, really?"

"Mate! Just everything. The cornicing! The high ceilings. The carpets. They're so thick and lush. I just want to take my shoes and socks off and squirm around. So cosy in the winter. Yeah, the carpets are the cherry on top. Gives the place a real premium vibe. Sort of classy. Ahh... Oh, food, nice. I'm quite hungry. What do you recommend?"

Henri, euphoric, helped me choose between all the cheeses and hams and nuts. I turned and Charlotte did a funny, wide-eyed, unblinking exit.

***

MD came next. He took me aside and said he had good news.

"BoshCard want to sponsor us from next season. Great terms. But Glendale were, well, the only word I can think of is euphoric, about that interview you did. They knew you were being sarcastic, but they loved it anyway. They had two weeks where their customers talked of nothing else. So the plan is, Glendale will sponsor the women's team, Bosh the men's. How does that sound?"

"Yeah. Sounds ace."

"Good."

"Can I have some of that money already?"

"Glendale want to start soon, this season, so yes. For transfers? It’s not much."

I popped a blob of cheese into my mouth. "Any player we could realistically sign, I could get with the budget I already have. And I don’t feel like paying fees when great players are around every corner.” I munched for a few seconds. “The men, though. Our scout went to see Eddie Moore on the weekend. Sutton United are terrible, they're going down, but he caught the eye. I will scout him myself, but I have a suspicion he'll be what the team needs. Part of what the team needs."

"What is he?"

"Left back. But we can't sign him as a left back. We'll have to say he's a right mid or something."

"What are you talking about?"

I laughed. "Don't worry about it! It’s part of a wider scheme. Have any of my schemes ever gone wrong?"

"Yes."

"Look. If we sign a left back, our other plan doesn't work. But we need a left back. So we'll sign a left back and tell the world he's something else. Bet you a million pounds no one will ever check."

MD pinched his nose. "You give me a headache. Anyway, there's no money. The women’s money has to be used for the women’s team."

"Mate," I said. "You just said the men are getting loads of money. Soon! Loan it to me from next year! And we'll get forty thousand if we beat Salford City in the cup. And how much will we get if we're on TV? I'm not trying to bankrupt the club. Just trying to be a good Director of Football."

He shook his head for ages, then froze while his thoughts moved from 'no' to 'maybe'. "I suppose... we could bring in one player."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"Nah," I said. "The men need two."

"Max..."

"All these chumps are going to do low blocks against us. We need a battering ram."

"A battering ram? That doesn't sound very Max Best. Have you got anyone in mind?"

I rubbed my lips as you might do if you were trying to hide a smile. "Remember we played Banbury? They had that guy everyone calls Goliath? Imagine if he played for us."

MD's face was incredibly funny, but I wasn't allowed to laugh. Life's so unfair, sometimes. "Are you joking? You're joking. You wouldn't..." His distress cleared. The vision of a world where my awesome midfield was firing cross after cross towards Goliath and Henri came into focus. "But... It'd make sense, though, wouldn't it? He'd win headers even against those Kidderminster guys. If you do a low block with him on the pitch, you're just letting him walk all the way up to the goal." He pinched his nose again. "He'd score by the dozen. Max. Why do you do this to me?"

I slipped to his side and put my arm around him. "Because we're going to give you another expense. Another bill to pay." With my free left hand, I drew a rainbow in front of us. "We're going to need a bigger trophy cabinet."

***

The Brig came in. For a moment, I thought he looked flustered, but the impression passed. Emma was delighted to see him and took it upon herself to give the tour.

"Henri," I said. "Got any good trees?"

This was me inviting myself into his garden, and he understood that. "I'll show you."

We slid open the patio doors and slipped outside. I closed the door behind me. One of Henri's eyebrows shot up. I checked no-one was around. "Tell me about trees later," I said. "I need to talk as your Director of Football."

"Oh?" He stood straighter.

"I have decided to loan you out."

His face hardened, just for a second, but it passed. "It is not logical. You would loan me to another club in January? Then who will score the goals to win Chester the title?"

I smirked. "You will. I won't loan you in January. That would be fucking mental."

He frowned, then relaxed. "I see. You are creating some football." He exhaled. "If I go along with it, I'll probably enjoy it. Does that sound right?"

"Yep."

"But explain it to me. You can't loan me out until January, but you won't loan me in January. And anyway, who benefits from this?"

"Me. You. The club. And I can loan you. I've found a loophole. You start on Wednesday."

"Wednesday! We have a match on Saturday."

"Which you will play in."

He threw his arms up. "Max!" He laughed. "Explain it to me."

"Explain it to the world's greatest detective?"

"You're right. Give me a moment." He sat on a comfy looking outdoor sofa. Sat like The Thinker for a few minutes while I pottered around looking at his slightly overgrown garden trying to imagine how it’d look when Henri was finished with it. He shook his head a few times. "I give up."

I explained it to him. It didn't take long. He stared at me, blankly, and laughed a single time. "Absurd. But why?"

"Because I need to know."

He shook his head and mumbled, almost to himself. "That's no kind of reason. It must be something else. I will do it, of course. Why not?" Louder, he said, "You know this has never been done before in the entire history of football?"

"It probably has," I said. "It's obvious if you think about it."

Another laugh. "No, my friend. It is not obvious and no-one would ever think about it. Come on. After hearing that, I need a drink."

***

Emma and the Brig were now chatting merrily with MD, Youngster, Pascal, and the older Triplets. Noah was at training.

I brought Emma a little flute of prosecco and clinked my glass against hers.

The Brig tried to get my attention. I separated from Emma but was enjoying the conversation and didn't want to leave it. The Brig kept bobbling his head as if to say let's go over there. Why? I saw him all the time. What could be so urgent? I indicated I was happy to stay put.

He leaned close and whispered the only word that could convey how urgent and serious the matter was. "Dude."

Stunned to my core, I followed him to one of the empty rooms. He closed the door behind us, put some music on his phone and let that play while we talked. Not taking any risks!

There were two hard-backed chairs in the room, and we sat facing each other. "Max," he said, which was less shocking than 'dude', but was still reserved for serious moments. I realised my mouth was dry. "I know who killed you."

He let that bombshell explode, and while my jaw was still dropped, he glanced at the door and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. It was a clear plastic bag. An evidence bag as used by the police. Inside were my car keys and some flecks of soil. I made some incoherent noises. As I reached out, automatically, for my property, he shook his head and put the bag back in his pocket.

"Who?" I said. He shook his head again. The song came to a quiet part, so he scooched forward on his chair, and so did I. We were speaking softly. "Who?" I repeated. Again, he struggled with the answer. Why? It was fucking simple! Two syllables, probably! "Was it Welly?"

"Before we discuss this further, I need to know how you want to proceed."

"Proceed?"

He looked into my soul, then his expression softened. "If I may change the subject completely, sir."

"No you may not! Are you crazy?"

"Ahem. One of the reasons I fell into the Android ecosystem is that it had dark mode and the iPhone did not. Do you have dark mode on your phone, sir?"

"Er... yes. I think so. Yes."

"So the dark mode option is available to you. That's good. It's good to have options."

"Are you saying...?" All right. It had taken me a few seconds to get up to speed, and when you're travelling at those speeds, it's better to shut your mouth. He'd found the murderer and wanted to know what I thought should happen next. The obvious answer was prison. But a dark option was available. Holy shit. "I see."

"That's good, sir. Unfortunately, it is a binary choice. Light mode or dark mode."

"Can we discuss the pros and cons of the modes?"

"When you choose dark mode, you are kept in the dark."

"Light mode would be more... how do I say it? More in line with the spirit and ethos I try to live by. But with light mode, the problem might return in fifteen to twenty years. And I'd need another Brig."

He smiled and brushed some crumbs from my sleeve. "You will always need a Brig."

"Is this a free choice? You won't think less of me if I choose one or the other?"

"If I felt strongly either way, I wouldn't offer a choice."

I narrowed my eyes and imagined what dark mode would mean. A hole being dug in the middle of a forest in Wales, Scotland, or Cornwall. A body that would perhaps never be found. One less thing keeping me awake at night. It was tempting. "Light mode."

"I thought so, sir. If you don't mind, I'll keep you in the dark for a while longer."

"So it's light mode but with added darkness?"

"Just so, sir. I assume you do not wish D.I. Barton to get the credit for the arrest."

"Right."

"So I have to proceed methodically. I assure you, it will go well."

I nodded. The sequence of events that led to this moment suddenly became clear. "I should thank Dean."

He winced. "Perhaps it's best if you keep your mouth shut, sir. When the time comes to thank Dean, I will do it. Non-verbally. Long after your attacker is in prison."

"Right. I keep my mouth shut. I pretend to be surprised when the news breaks. All that stuff."

"All that stuff."

I bit my thumbnail while I thought. "Amazing. I mean... amazing. This is... It's a weight off my shoulders."

He inhaled. "Undoubtedly."

"How do we tell Emma?"

"We don't. She will find out at the same time as you."

"Right. Riiiigggght. But," I started, now that my mind was moving away from the immediate repercussions. "If that's as good as wrapped up, you won't need to stay."

"I have a contract to the summer, sir."

"But after that. I don't want you to go."

He smiled. "I could be persuaded to continue, sir. However, my peers who specialise in dark mode earn much, much more."

"I just allocated our future money to a human siege weapon. How about a promotion? What's above a brigadier?"

"Major general."

"Majjy. May-gen. The maggo."

"I like the Brig. It has grown on me."

"Great. You're hired."

"Let's discuss my large salary increase when the season is over. And sir..."

"Yes?"

"Dark mode is a lot cheaper than light mode."

"With dark mode you just need to buy a spade."

He looked around and gave me a slightly exasperated look. "Light mode will come with expenses."

I thought about it. Tried to guess what sort of expenses he meant. Hiring some of his army mates to do things. Which things? He didn't want me to know. Maybe he'd tell me in a couple of years. He wouldn't rip me off, though. Not over this. How much would I pay to make sure the guy who killed me went to prison? A whole fucking lot. "I've got about seven grand." He did a microexpression. "If it's more, I'll get it. Are we talking... hundreds?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Okay. I think I'm good for it."

He analysed me. "I think so too." He raised his glass, intending for me to clink it. But he hesitated. "It could happen quickly, but as the net closes in, animals become wild. I encourage you to be sensible. No surprises."

I laughed. "Right. Bad news for you on that one... But I understand. I'll be good."

We clinked our glasses together, and I took a big swig. Justice was coming. I bathed in the moment.

"Shall we return?" said the Brig.

"Wait. Why can't I have my keys?"

The Brig's exasperated look returned. He made his eyes go big, and speaking at something close to his normal volume - it sounded like a shout after we'd been so quiet - he said, "What keys, sir?"

Right. He needed them for some reason. A thought struck me, then. Maybe I would be bad at that Traitors TV show, after all. I could plot, but I couldn't follow the plots of others. I smiled. "Cheese. Why can't I have my cheese?"

"You must have left it somewhere, sir. Shall we go find it?"

***

The soirée was going great. Curious first teamers popped in to say hello and to check out the new digs. Dean came for a look. Jackie and Livia stopped by with a bottle of red wine that Henri lost his mind over.

But things turned, not sour exactly, but... less euphoric. I was mingling, trying to give some quality time to as many people as possible. But I realised the bad vibes were centred around... drum roll... Emma.

"What's going on?" I said, finally. I didn't say it very loud, but somehow the entire room stopped what they were doing to listen.

Emma took a deep breath. "We're worried about this reporter who was digging dirt on you and when that bomb is going to drop. It has to be soon. Before the Darlington match. If it's really bad and there's a big brouhaha and you can't play..."

When she'd said 'digging dirt' my shoulders had slumped. Not this again! But I was in such a good mood I was soon smiling once more. "I'm sorry, did you say... brouhaha?"

"Why don't you take this seriously?"

Henri tapped her on the shoulder and offered her a glass of this superb red wine Jackie had brought. It wasn't very full, but there was only one bottle and many who wanted to try it.

I sighed and pointed to a foot stool. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead," said Henri.

I stood on it and looked around the room. The people I worked with. A very high proportion of whom I could call friends. I didn't want them worrying. I wanted them euphoric!

"Listen up. No-one can destabilise this football club better than me." Some laughs. "I take great pride in that." Lots of head shakes from MD, but he was smiling. Emma took an exploratory sip of her wine. Seemed to hit the spot. "If Darlington want to stop us winning the league, it'll take a lot more than one scurrilous newspaper article. All right?" Nods. Approval. Smiles. "Now, there could be some pretty weird things in there." I scratched my ear. "I wonder if they've got access to my search history." Lots of people turned to Emma, which made her take another nervous, embarrassed sip of wine. "I’m joking because I'm not worried about it. Not in the slightest. On the whole, I think I make good and fair decisions. You could describe me as noble. Upstanding. Generous."

"Max," said Emma.

I smiled, but the hairs on the back of my neck went haywire. If I got the timing of this right, I could finally achieve my lifelong ambition of making Emma spray out her drink. I'd read that 'the spit take' was more likely to happen in real life through laughter, but shock might do it, too. I licked my lips. My heart was suddenly beating faster. I needed a cool head, though. Like trying to beat a low block with a clever series of passes, timing was everything.

I held my hands up, making sure I had everyone's attention. "There is one thing that won't be in that article, because no-one knows about it. I haven't told Emma, or Henri, or anyone. It's something that, taken out of context, could destabilise the club. Could give some people the wrong idea about my intentions." I glanced at the Brig. He looked panicked. Was I going to...? I looked at MD. He was staring in horror. What has he done now?

I gulped. "The thing is," I said, pausing, and I felt electricity shoot up my spine as Emma took a nervous sip of wine. "The thing is, I bought a football club."

***

End of Book 5

***

National League North Standings (Chester Men)

Team P W D L F A GD Pts 1 Kidderminster 13 8 5 0 25 9 16 29 2 York 14 7 6 1 22 14 8 27 3 Darlington 13 7 5 1 19 12 7 26 4 Chester 12 8 1 3 31 15 16 25

North West Regional Football League Division 1 South (Chester Women)

Team P W D L F A GD Pts 1 Altrincham 2 2 0 0 9 0 9 6 2 Runcorn 2 2 0 0 3 1 2 6 3 Wythenshawe 2 1 1 0 6 3 3 4 4 Chester 2 1 1 0 4 3 1 4

Curse

XP Balance: 2,596

Debt repaid: 2,458/3000

2023/24 to October 23rd

Max Best player stats

Played 7, goals 0, assists 0.

Man of the Match awards: 1

Average rating (curse-assessed): 7.43

Max Best manager stats

Chester Men: P16 W12 D1 L3

Chester Women: P5 W3 D1 L1

Manager of the Month awards: 1

Players bought: 2

Traitors unmasked: 0

Triplets scouted: 3. Or 1. Wait, what?

Cars found: 1

Car keys found: 1

Dream sequences: 1

Cliffhangers: 0

Books published: 5