Free Web NovelChapter 10: [10] "40 Million Witnesses"
The set in the studio had the hall behind it in a whirl of activity. Screaming into headsets, producers were racing by. Local press members were attempting to storm the backstage area, where security guards were trying to prevent them. There were phones that kept ringing and the alarms were relentless, notifying a massively sized PR disaster.
Luc ignored it all. He walked through the madness with slow, measured steps, casually loosening the button of the cuffs of his shirt.
There, at the end of the corridor, leaning against a concrete pillar was the lovely Valérie Laurent.
She wore a stylish charcoal trench coat and carried a thin cell phone with one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. She looked at Luc, and her eyes lit up into a predacious, brilliant smile.
As he approached she pushed from off from the pillar, "You magnificent bastard."
"Did I stutter?" Luc asked, without taking a step back.
He had heard that exact phrase somewhere before. But he couldn’t place it at that exact moment.
"You broke the internet," laughed Valérie showing her glowing phone screen. "The hashtag TheAmericanBet is number one globally. Not only in France. The league commissioner is panicking, my brand value just went up by 20%, in 5 minutes, Qatari executives are calling my office right now saying they’re going to sue me."
"And Fontaine?"
A sinister smile lit up Valérie’s face. "Radio silence. His PR is in overdrive. You put him in a spot on live tv, if he doesn’t take it, he’s a coward, if he does, he just validated a rookie. A fucking win win."
"Sure, he’ll take it," Luc said stoically. "He won’t back down due to his ego."
"Well, can you back this up, Luc?" Her eyes narrowed slightly at him as she asked, "He does get passes flung at him all day long from stellar playmakers, while you’re playing for a bottom table club."
"I will prepare my own food if I have to. I will create my own goals," said Luc. He went through the stubborn outside doors. Outside the studio, it was cool Paris night air, washing away the heat. "Call for my car to be driven around," he instructed an attendant.
---
In a penthouse high on a city skyline, above a vast expanse of glass, was Olivier Fontaine, losing his mind across the city.
Crash.
The expensive whiskey and broken glass rained from a heavy crystal decanter that had broken on the marble wall and scattered all over the hardwood floor.
Chloé flinched, going into the deep cushions of the white leather couch. This was a different Olivier she had never seen before. He was always so cool, so untouchable. His face was now red, and the blood vessels in his neck were prominent when he paced up and down like a caged animal, from the edge of the living room.
"Who is this nobody? Everyone must be wondering who he is now," Olivier roared, kicking a piece of shards of crystal across the room. "He has one goal! One! And he dares to challenge me on national TV?"
He had a short, balding man with a designer suit as his agent, who was furiously typing on a tablet while he was sweating profusely. "Olivier, please, we must stay calm, we are writing a statement, we’ll laugh it off, we’ll say you’re not going to get into any delusional squabbles with amateurs." freewebnovёl.ƈom
"No!" Then, Olivier exploded, ran over and grabbed the tablet from the agent. "If I take it as a joke or try to laugh it off, the fans will think that I’m scared! Pretending to be tough. Have you witnessed Twitter? Half of them already think of me as a coward! They are tagging me, they want my reply!"
"It’s a trap, Olivier," the agent shouted, his hands up as a gesture of defense. "He has nothing to lose, He’s on a rookie contract, he’s making pennies compared to you, if he loses, straight back to America and he can even write a book or something, if you lose, you lose everything."
Olivier froze. He peered out the large window with a petalled pane of glass that faced the glowing Eiffel Tower. He gazed at the frightened Chloé, who was huddled and crouched on the sofa. He recalled the lifeless, unstoppable expression on Luc’s face as he watched on TV.
He recalled that Luc was there in the hotel room. "I’ll be taking your Golden Boot with me. I’m going to get every single thing that made you feel like a king."
He quietly demanded that his agent give him his phone.
"Olivier, let’s check with PR first, don’t--"
"Give me the fucking phone!"
The agent handed it to him in shaking hands. Olivier snatched it, unlocked it, and opened his social media app. He took a video of himself. He took a deep breath, relaxing his face into his usual, arrogant smirk. As much as an athlete, he was an actor.
Looking directly to the camera, Olivier replied, his voice dripping with absolute condescension, "Luc Beaumont. I watched your little interview; it’s cute, you want a wager? That’s fine, I accept that. Goal for goal, it’s just open play, but let’s make it a bit of fun, American, when you lose, you don’t just leave Ligue Alpha, you apologize to me and you do it on the center circle on your knees in my home stadium. Enjoy your minutes of fame, American, they are almost up."
He hit post. It was made live to his 40 million followers right away.
Chloé is on the sofa when he tossed his phone on it. "Get up," he barked at her. "Get dressed up we are going to the club, I need a drink."
Chloé didn’t argue. She scrambled to her feet and ran for the bedroom. As she closed the door behind her, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She knew for certain that Luc was out for revenge but his expression was a cold frightening one. One that she had never seen on him.
---
The following morning, SC Valois training grounds was like a military base just before an invasion.
Luc arrived in the parking lot in his matte black Porsche, and there were two times as many reporters as the day before. Beyond the usual private security, the club was forced to recruit additional guards to maintain a clear driveway and fences and to fend off the paparazzi from trespassing.
There was a definite "pin drop" in the locker room.
The players were already dressed for practice, but no one was talking. Mateo was looking at his boots blankly. Hugo appeared about to vomit into a garbage can. As soon as Luc walked through the doors, all eyes turned to him.
"You actually did it," Mateo said, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was a mix of sheer awe and complete disbelief. "Fontaine posted the video at midnight. It’s official. The league commissioner confirmed they won’t step in since it’s a personal termination clause. You bet your whole career, kid."
"I bet his," Luc corrected casually, tossing his duffel bag into his locker. He stripped off his jacket, completely unbothered by the heavy stares bearing down on him. "Did you guys watch the replays and highlights on FC Belleville yet? That’s who we play Saturday, right?"
