OVERKILL ★ CHAPTER TEN
(Gotta Love Girlhood.)

"AND THEN . . . HE ASKED ME if I needed a ride home."

Christa gasps, taking the nearest pillow to her and hitting her sister with it. "Quinn Ana Zheng please tell me, then, why it was Nate who dropped you off at the door when you got home."

Christa isn't gonna like this one. "Because I told Jamie no."

The older girl lets out the loudest groan on Earth, no doubt concerning morning commuters walking by the open window (living on the second floor isn't always convenient, it seems). "You're fucking impossible. A hot-as-shit footballer offers you a ride home, and you say no? You're not my sister. You would never do this."

It's the next morning and Quinn has been filling Christa in on the previous night before she has to go to work. They're both still in their pajamas, eating a bag of chips—crisps?—in substitution for an actual breakfast. Christa's got half an hour until she has to leave for work, and is stretching the debrief as much as possible in order to get the most information out of Quinn.

"This 'hot-as-shit' footballer is also the same person people on the team have been telling me to stay away from," adds Quinn. "So excuse me if I'm a little conflicted on how I should act around him."

Christa rolls her eyes. "But he also comforted you that night we went out? And he came to you to apologize personally for how Dad's a cheating asshole? And—correct me if I'm wrong—hasn't outright been terrible to you?"

"Well, if you fucking put it that way . . . I don't know, Chris!" She flops back onto the bedC, using the pillow Christa hit her with to drop in over her face in frustration. "Gaining weird feelings for a footballer wasn't really on my Bingo Card when I got here . . . I literally just wanted to hide from my problems and be cooked for." If Quinn knew that she'd begin to harbor an infatuation for someone in England, she would've brought cuter clothes. She might've even checked two bags in at the airport so she could fit her curling iron and hair dryer. And her favorite perfume bottle wouldn't be collecting dust back in her New York apartment. But no, life loves to throw her curveballs.

"Well, you've got a hell of a more interesting life than that now. Please talk to him today. Unlock flirty Quinn. You need to get yourself out there, I'm serious!"

"Maybe I'll talk to him more on the Liverpool trip . . . which I'm too scared to ask Rebecca and Keeley if you can tag along on. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Christa waves her her away. "I just wanted to see if I could get on that private jet. I looked up Ted's boss. She's a fucking millionaire. Also, her husband cheated on her—I saw a headline on it when I was researching."

Quinn hasn't heard much about Rebecca's ex-husband; she hasn't really heard people talking about it. And she's just never been a person to dip her toes into other people's business.

. . . Okay, that might be a lie. But she has never felt the need to dip her toes in the business of people in Richmond. She's sure there's a lot to dig up, but the thought of her spending time with people who tabloids publish articles on is a little unsettling. She'd prefer to not ruin her perception of everyone by looking into what gossip columnists have to say about them—especially Rebecca.

"You know," Christa pops a chip in her mouth, "I didn't think my baby sister would be friends with a millionaire and a celebrity . . . and an entire Premier League team! You fucking passed me on success less than two months into your stay."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "You're a lawyer, shut up."

Christa laughs. She looks at the bedside clock before tapping Quinn's shin lightly. "Alright, I really need to get ready for work now. And you need to get ready to go to Richmond, where you will talk to Jamie and flirt with him."

"We'll see about that," mutters Quinn. How the hell is she supposed to even flirt with Jamie?

"Hey, I think it's cool that we can bond over our fatherly trauma and that you've seen me in an emotionally vulnerable state. Wanna grab some lunch?"

She thinks she'll die before she does that, thanks.

★

Quinn senses something is off with Ted and Beard the moment she steps into their office.

Beard isn't digging his head into one of his books, for example, and instead is sitting with his head hung low. Ted isn't humming a morning tune—usually, it's a Beatles song that it's in his head because he'd shown it to Henry on FaceTime the day before. And Beard doesn't even have his legs propped up! How the hell, Quinn wonders, is her godfather supposed to relax in the morning if his feet aren't propped on the desk?

But the biggest giveaway of all, she thinks, is that there's no smile on Ted's face at all. He looks more pissed than anything, which seems to be happening more recently these past few days. It's very out of character for him, but she's been trying to cut him some slack because of his split with Michelle. She remembers almost walking in on Ted's phone call once, hearing the words "divorce papers," and scurrying away right after. It hurts to hear Ted so distressed.

"Is everything okay?" She snaps her fingers in front of Beard to gain his attention. He makes a groaning noise, not looking up.

"We're just bummed," sighs Ted. He stressfully rubs his palm over his forehead. "Jamie got transferred back to Man City."

Quinn's eyes widen.

"What?" she sputters. "Transferred to Man City, as in . . . he's back in Manchester?"

"Right on the eye, Quinnie. He's not playing for Richmond the rest of the season." Ted slaps his hands down on his desk. "Darn, even saying it out loud makes me sick! We were just getting through to him. You guys saw how he was last night!"

The news sends an ache through Quinn that she feels like she isn't allowed to have. She doesn't even want to begin to unpack it.

"I'm so sorry," she decides on saying. "I know how much you wanted him to really be part of the team."

"It's not your fault, Quinnie. But, if anything, I feel a tad bit peeved at Rebecca for letting it all happen. But she was just trying to do what she thought I wanted . . . so maybe I don't blame her as much." His head snaps up, coming out of his troubled daze. "Speaking of, when I was up there, she said to tell you to go see her immediately . . . something about a private jet?"

Beard whistles, impressed.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you guys. I'm coming to Liverpool . . . I think. Keeley invited me when I saw her in the bathroom."

"Oooh," Ted hums, his normal-self peeking through. "Turning game weekend into girls' weekend. And the plans were made in the ladies' room. You gotta love girlhood."

Beard joins in, "It's a beautiful thing."

Quinn manages her first laugh after hearing about Jamie. "Yeah. I'll go see her now. Thanks."

She's walking out the door when Ted calls out, "Please don't have too much fun with them! We still want you to hang out with us!"

She grins to herself, deciding to leave Ted in suspense and not respond.

Quinn makes her way up to Rebecca's office, not being able to take her mind off Jamie now that she's on her own. She doesn't know how to vocalize it, or if she can without sounding like a selfish person. But now she feels extremely bummed about his departure. All the hope she's had on the commute to Richmond falls to the drain, knowing that the conversation they were meant to have to today won't be happening at all.

Her dejection follows her all the way to Rebecca's office, where she forces herself to push all feelings aside for now. She knocks on the door until she hears a "Come in!"

She peeks her head through the door. "Hi, Rebecca," greets Quinn softly. "Ted said you wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes." She closes her laptop and pushes it aside. "Keeley told me that she extended the invitation for our girls' weekend to you."

"She did," Quinn says. She knows that Rebecca is not likely to take back the invitation, but a small part of her still feels bad for intruding on their plans. "If that's not okay, I understand. You and Keeley should have a lot of fun—"

"Quinn," says Rebecca softly, "I'm delighted that you're joining us. I just wanted to tell you that we're meeting here in the office at eleven in the morning, Friday."

She breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh. Okay, Thank God. I'd probably walk out in tears if you said no."

"Keeley had forgotten to exchange information with you, so I thought I'd relay the message. It should be a fun weekend. After, you know, we get over the fact that Richmond will lose."

Quinn laughs. "Hopefully not. Thanks for telling me. I'll see you then!"

Rebecca's smile is strained as she bids her goodbye.

She's halfway out the door when Rebecca calls out, "Quinn, wait!"

She turns, giving the older woman a curious look.

"There is something else. I wanted to tell you it last night, but I got distracted by . . . other tasks. Um—" she straightens out her top, trying to pick the right wording. "Permission to get personal?" She motions for Quinn to sit down on the opposite side of the desk.

"Go ahead." She gives Rebecca a comforting smile in hopes that it'll help her go on. She sits down.

"There's no right way to open this discussion, but . . . I also caught my father cheating. I was a teenager."

Quinn didn't know what Rebecca was going to tell her, but that definitely was at the bottom of the list. Below the list, even; maybe not even written on the list at all. She settles into her seat nervously.

She never thought that she would ever have something in common with Rebecca, who may as well be her superior by association—and all around just extremely different from Quinn. But having a sleazy father who lacks accountability is definitely more emotionally binding than she thought.

"Worst of all," Rebecca continues, "he never mentioned it to me after that day. And neither did I. I was absolutely ridden with guilt. Sometimes I still can't even look my mother in the eye knowing what I know." Rebecca takes a deep breath, reliving the memories in her head. "So when you told your story last night, it hit very close to home with me."

"Oh," frowns Quinn. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to resurface any bad memories for you."

Rebecca shakes her head. "No, no, it's fine . . . I just—I want you to know that carrying the burden of your father's faults is not something you deserve. I certainly didn't deserve it," she scoffs. "And I want you to know that you are far from alone in your struggles."

Quinn's bottom lips but out, her eyes glossing over with something other than the usual sadness. "Thank you, Rebecca. Men love to do shitty things, don't they? And have no problem making the woman feel guilty afterwards."

Rebecca laughs. "I will happily drink to that this weekend."

They bid each other goodbye, and Quinn begins to make her way to the pitch.

She's halfway down the steps back to the main floor of Nelson Road when her phone rings. Her eyebrows raise when she sees it's Christa on the other end of the line.

Normally, the older sister puts her personal phone on silent when she's at work, only leaving Harvey's notifications on in case of emergency. Christa never calls when she's at her office. The anxiety-ridden part of Quinn's mind goes to the absolute worst possible scenario. But, it is anxiety-ridden, and she doesn't want to jump to conclusions just yet.

"Calling during work?" Quinn says before Christa can even get a word in. "Sneaky and irresponsible. Unless this is actually serious, then please tell me."

She can sense her older sister rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

"I'm calling to see if you've seen the news? About Jamie?"

Quinn's brows pinch together. Sure, she's grateful that this call wasn't some sort of emergency. But why would Christa call to ask about Jamie getting transferred? "How the fuck did you find out?"

"I looked up his name. There are a bunch of articles, but that's the main one everyone's writing about today."

Right. Quinn forgets sometimes that she can Google these people's names. It's extremely tempting when she's reminded, really. But—again—she thinks the decent thing to do as a technical outsider to everything would be to keep her head out of all the tabloid shit.

"Yeah," Quinn'a voice trails off. "Ted told me when I saw him this morning. So that means Jamie's not here today . . . and isn't going to be here any day after that."

"That fucking sucks. I'm sorry."

Quinn heads to the tunnel leading to the pitch. "It's fine," she says, even though Christa knows her well enough to know that it's not fine. "I'm going to watch training right now. I'm gonna try to gauge everyone's reactions to it. If everyone is happy about it, maybe I can force it easier."

"Alrighty, I'll see you for dinner tonight, okay?"

"Yup. Bye."

Quinn isn't sure why, but she makes a beeline from the exit and heads to the locker room. She looks around the empty area before her eyes land on Jamie's locker. She stares at it and it's complete vacancy; the only to mark that it was ever his being the his last name printed on the very top.

She knows she's sad about his withdrawal from the team. She knows that it's because despite what Sam or Roy say about him, she's begun to harbor feelings for the striker. Whether or not those feelings are romantic or not doesn't even matter. The two had already formed an unspoken attachment that night outside the restaurant, where she saw him in a way a lot of people haven't.

She doesn't know how long she sits there. All she knows is that Sam eventually sits beside her.

She peels her eyes off Jamie's locker and turns to Sam with a smile. "Hey."

He gives her a knowing look.

Yeah, Quinn thinks, she's fucked.

★

A/N: a filler chapter clearly lol. i hope it was okay regardless????? i'm cooking up a way to have quinn and jamie reunite before the man city game... let's see if it all matches up well