Bend It Like Becker
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Chapter 8 - WHISKEY WHIMS
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As promised, Becker paid for the first round, but Lester ended up paying for the second...and the third! He also purchased an entire bottle of an expensive whiskey and kept pouring glasses for anyone who asked. Becker was surprised and pleased - it was certainly much more than he could've hoped for when he'd adjourned the practice to the pub.
Until now it hadn't really occurred to him that he was only focussing on the individual players. Watching them with Jess at practice, he'd been pleased to see Matt finally starting to loosen up a bit and show some improvement. Even Lester seemed be getting better, which convinced Becker that Jess must be some kind of miracle worker.
But as he'd talked to Jess, he'd realised how demoralising it must be for the poorer players. It must be obvious to them that they weren't as good as the others and were liable to bring the team down, especially since they weren't getting any encouragement from their coach.
And that's when Becker realised what he'd been doing wrong - he'd been concentrating on the individuals, not considering the team as a whole. In fact, the team didn't even FEEL like a team; it merely felt like a motley assemblage of ARC staff. Yet in just over a week they'd be on the pitch playing together. The Minister was expecting them to play as a team, to demonstrate that same teamwork on the field that they showed in the field. So Becker realised it was about time they started acting like a team...and thus the pub.
Frankly he'd been worried that Lester would resist joining them, and Becker had planned to set Jess upon him if he did. However, that hadn't been necessary - Lester had come willing and seemed happy to be sharing his whiskey with his fellow teammates, and they were enjoying seeing Lester in a new light.
In fact, everyone seemed to be loosening up and getting to know their fellow players better. Ghani was off in the corner discussing goalkeeping strategies with Emily, and Lester, O'Rourke, and Matt were engaged for nearly the entire evening in a heated argument over which brand of whiskey was the best. At one point, Abby dragged the others over to watch her trounce Duggan in a game of billiards. Scott, unfortunately, seemed more interested in hitting on every girl in the vicinity than hanging out with his teammates, but at least he was providing entertainment for the rest of them as they all watched him get struck down again and again.
However, something seemed wrong with Jess. She was acting quiet and reserved; in other words, entirely un-Jess-like. Perhaps she was upset that, with so much work to do, Becker had cut practice short without consulting her, especially when she seemed to be making such progress with Matt and Lester. Or perhaps she was upset that she'd been stuck coaching the rejects in the first place when he was off having fun with Abby and the other soldiers. Yet she didn't exactly seem mad, so he wasn't sure what her problem was.
It was clear, however, what Connor's problem was - he was apparently the biggest lightweight on the planet, since even Jess was drinking him under the table. So it was no surprise that when Abby left early to go to her yoga class, she took Connor with her. Becker thought their leaving might break up the party, but the rest of the team seemed content to stay where they were.
After watching both Scott and O'Rourke slaughter Duggan in billiards, Becker wandered over to where Jess was sitting with a very intense look upon her face.
"You okay?" Becker asked.
Jess stared at him for a moment, as if contemplating a course of action, before merely pointing up to the ceiling, explaining, "This is one of my favourite songs."
Becker attempted to listen for the music over the rumble of conversations and could just make out the strains of the latest Lady Gaga dance hit. He hadn't even noticed the music playing before, but now it made him nervous - he'd never known Jess to sit still when she heard a peppy dance beat! So it definitely wasn't his imagination - she was upset about something, but clearly she'd determined that now was not the best time to discuss it.
Over an hour later, Lester glanced at his watch and gasped.
"Is that the time?" he asked, suddenly jumping to his somewhat unsteady feet. "My wife will kill me."
"Just say practice went late," Jess suggested helpfully, but Lester shook his head.
"It's not exactly believable when I arrive home with whiskey on my breath."
"Would you like me to call and explain?" Jess asked, reaching into her handbag for her mobile, but Lester stopped her.
"No, I think can handle it. I just best be off."
The others started making their excuses as well and heading for the door. Jess stumbled slightly on her way out, and Becker instinctively offered her his arm, which she took and kept ahold of as they walked outside with everyone.
"Just remember," Becker told his players, "Don't expect practice at the pub tomorrow night. We've loads to work on before Saturday next."
Everyone said their goodbyes and started to disperse, eventually leaving Becker and Jess alone in front of the pub.
"May I, uh, walk you to your car?" Becker asked, noticing that she still was holding his arm.
Jess, however, frowned, and Becker thought, this is it. I'm about to have it for whatever I've done that's upset her.
Therefore he was quite surprised when she replied simply, "I don't believe it's safe for me to drive home in my current condition. Would you mind terribly driving me? If you'd rather not drive across town, I'm happy to stay on your couch...if it's not too much bother."
Becker shook his head, relieved that she wasn't upset with him after all. "No, no bother at all."
Jess smiled sweetly up at him, and Becker felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn't believe his luck - another evening alone with Jess in his flat! Clearly he must be doing something right.
As they started down the pavement towards his car, Jess stumbled again and clutched his arm more tightly, making him realise just how drunk she really was.
The full meaning of this took a moment to sink in - he was taking a very sloshed Jess home with him, less than a day after convincing himself that they shouldn't get together.
This wasn't luck - this was clearly some form of torture!
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The ride to Becker's flat was quieter than usual, and Jess realised it was because she herself wasn't talking much, thanks entirely to the whiskey! She'd already been dehydrated from practice when they'd arrived at the pub, and she'd stupidly had an entire glass of Lester's ridiculously potent Midleford Very Rare before she realised that her stomach was empty. She'd quickly ordered a meat pie and stole some soggy chips off of Connor's plate as she'd waited, but it was already too late - she was a goner.
So she'd spent the evening trying to drink as much water as she could, and the fact that she hadn't run to the loo once just proved how dehydrated she'd been. They stayed at the pub so long, she'd hoped she'd be well enough to drive when they finally left, but Lester had continued to top off her whiskey glass several times, so she knew it'd be irresponsible to get behind the wheel of a car.
Just as it would've been irresponsible to grab Becker and make him dance with her when her favourite song had come on, even though that's the first thought that had entered her mind at the time. But then she'd thought about it. Did she want to dance with Becker because she actually wanted to dance with Becker or merely because she'd had so much whiskey? Since she couldn't be 100% certain, she'd decided to err on the side of caution, merely staying seated and enjoying what she could hear of the song above the roar of the pub.
Similar things had happened all night. On several occasions, words had been just on the tip of her tongue when she'd had second thoughts and kept quiet instead.
And that's exactly what happened as they approached Becker's door. Jess thought about teasing, "Third night in a row - perhaps you should make me a key," but she didn't. Instead she paused, wondering if she would've said the same thing if she'd been completely sober. Knowing her, she probably would've - she was always blurting out inappropriate things when it came to Becker, Freudian things that she'd rather Becker not know crossed her mind. Like teasing him about making her a key - that's what a girl asks a guy after they've been dating for some time, not what a friend says after only a few nights hanging out together.
And thus Jess kept quiet as Becker struggled to open the door for them, nervously dropping his keys not once but twice.
As he finally swung the door open, Jess asked, "Unless you're desperate, may I use your loo first?"
Becker looked worried. "Do you feel sick?"
Jess shook her head. "I've simply had a lot to drink," she stated. She was going to clarify, to explain she'd been drinking glass after glass of water all evening in an attempt to stay hydrated, but he must've seen her doing so and thus there was no reason to explain. Instead, she merely clarified, "May I use it then?"
"Yes, of course! Go ahead," Becker blurted out, looking guilty as if he'd done something unchivalrous. That look often crossed his face, which Jess found strange, since he was one of the most chivalrous gentlemen she'd ever met.
When she emerged from the loo, Becker was busy piling blankets on the couch. When he saw her, he explained, "I think you should sleep in my bed tonight. Not with me," he clarified, and there was that look again. "I mean, I'll take the couch, and you can have my bed."
"I'm perfectly fine sleeping on the couch," Jess said, but Becker seemed adamant.
"No, I insist. You slept on the couch last night - it's only fair that you get the bed tonight."
However, Jess could be just as stubborn, especially when she had common sense on her side. "You shouldn't have to pay for my poor judgement." After all, she was the one who'd been foolish enough to drink too much. At least she hadn't been completely irresponsible, unlike the Great Tequila Accident of 2010. Which reminded her, "Do you mind if I get myself a glass of water?"
"Yes. I mean, of course I don't mind. Help yourself. Actually, let me get it for you."
"I'm perfectly capable of getting it myself," Jess said before letting herself into his kitchen. She felt so comfortable here, and not just because this was her third evening in a row at his flat. But his place just felt so homey and inviting, she simply wanted to snuggle up on the couch with a hot cup of tea, a film, and Becker.
And while she'd done just that the last two nights, she suddenly wondered if tonight's impulse had more to do with the alcohol than her own desires. So instead of putting the kettle on and calling out that they simply MUST watch the rest of Bend It Like Beckham tonight, she merely poured herself a glass of water and returned to the living room.
Becker was no longer there, so she sat down on the couch, carefully drinking her water, trying to calculate exactly how many litres of liquid she'd consumed that night.
Becker soon reemerged, carrying some folded clothes. He set them down on the coffee table, explaining, "I thought you might like these to sleep in. I don't know what you normally wear to bed," - there was that guilty look again - "but I thought you might like these so you don't have to sleep in that same t-shirt again tonight. Not that it smells or anything. I didn't even notice it smelling at practice - not that I was...I just meant..." Becker sighed, clearly frustrated with his inability to communicate, before finishing with, "This shirt's a bit small on me, and the jogging bottoms have a drawstring so they should fit."
Jess nodded. Becker seemed to be talking so much tonight. Perhaps he was naturally talkative, but she'd simply never noticed because she herself was usually so chatty. Or was his long-windedness, perhaps, an effect of the alcohol? Or maybe even a combination of the two? She must test these theories at some point.
Since she hadn't yet spoken, Becker nervously picked the clothes back up. "I didn't mean to force anything on you - you're welcome to sleep in whatever you want. I mean, if you want to sleep in your shirt, that's fine with me. Or you're welcome to go through my drawers - to look for other clothes, I mean. Obviously I don't have any proper nightshirts or pyjamas or anything, but perhaps you could find something that you'd be more comfortable in. Or maybe you're more comfortable sleeping in the buff" - and again with that look - "but that's fine, I'll just shut the door to give you your privacy, and I've even got a robe you could put on for the morning, though I can't think where that robe's gotten to, but I can go look for it if you'd like. Would you like me to look for it?"
Wow! She'd never heard Becker string so many sentences together before. Not that they were very coherent sentences - she certainly wouldn't want to diagram them for English class - but they were definitely more words than she'd ever heard from him at one sitting. She really must test her theories about his newfound talkativeness soon.
But not now. He seemed ready to implode, as if the fate of the world hinged on this whole bedclothing issue. So she stood up and calmly took the pile of clothing from him, simply stating, "These will be fine. Thank you."
She couldn't tell if the look on his face was relief or disappointment. And whichever it was, it seemed to be mixed with that guilty, unchivalrous look of his.
She really must come up with some theories for that as well.
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to be continued