Football Dynasty-Chapter 29: Her uncle is here

Richard was lounging on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the paper of all the talented players he wanted to bring under his banner when the doorbell rang.

He got up, stretching lazily, and opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was a man—a bald man, looking like he was ready to explode. His Hawaiian shirt swagger was gone, replaced by a furious energy. The cigar in his mouth was practically trembling.

Richard was confused. 'What's with this guy? Wrong address?'

"You monster!" The man barked, his voice booming. "We need to talk!"

Richard, still a little groggy from his earlier thoughts, blinked at the sight of the man standing there, hands on hips. "What?"

The man didn't waste any time. "You made Ashley cry, you absolute muppet!" he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

Richard, confused and rubbing his temples, muttered, "Ashley? Who the hell's Ash—"

'Wait a minute.'

Stunned, Richard raised his head and took a careful look at the man in front of him.

Seeing other party confused expression, the man became even angrier. Puffing his cigar, he pointed directly at him. "Don't play dumb with me. Richard Maddox. You are Richard Maddox," he snapped, stepping forward as if he were about to start a lecture on manners.

"She's a sweet girl, and you made her cry like a baby. How dare you?! Monster!"

Feeling the neighbors' stares, Richard looked left and right before raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, sir. How about we talk inside first?"

The man took a deep drag from his cigar, clearly trying to calm himself down. "You think this is some sort of joke? I don't care who you've made cry in the past, Richard, but my Ashley is off-limits! I can't believe you'd be so careless."

"Yes, yes, but let's talk inside first, alright?" Richard replied, trying to defuse the situation.

Once they were inside, the situation didn't improve. The man stormed in, his steps heavy and purposeful, making sure to get in Richard's personal space as he started his rant.

Richard, trying to maintain some composure, gestured to the couch. "Alright, sir, before we continue, may I know your name?"

Puff...

The man didn't answer. Instead, the air in the room grew tense, thick with the man's frustration, as the cigar smoke swirled around like an angry cloud.

"I don't know what kind of person you are, but making my girl cry? That's crossing the line. You monster can't just treat people like that!"

"Yes, yes, I'm in the wrong," Richard muttered, trying to calm things down. "But, sir, before we talk about Ashley, may I know your name? What's your relationship with Ashley? Are you her father?"

"You think you're some sort of godsend, huh?" The man continued, his voice rising. "You think you can do anything you want just because you're some little director of an unknown second division team?!" His voice grew louder now, almost like a lecture, and Richard knew it wasn't going to be the last.

Richard sighed, knowing this wasn't going to end anytime soon. He was starting to get a little tired of the lecture. So he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water.

He returned and handed it to the man, who was still fuming with smoke swirling around his head.

The man looked at the water with narrowed eyes. "What's this? You think this will calm me down?"

Richard sighed helplessly. "Maybe you're just dehydrated, mate. You're smoking like a chimney. You might want to hydrate before you blow a gasket."

The man stared at Richard for a moment before taking a reluctant sip, his face softening just a little.

The cigar puffed again, the smoke curling up lazily as he finally took a seat, though not without muttering a few more things under his breath.

"She's got a good future ahead of her... She—"

"F*CK!!!" Richard had had enough.

"What the hell do you want, mate?" He stood up, his voice rising. "You barge in here, shouting at me, and when I ask you a simple question, you start rambling like it's all on me. Do you have a problem with me or what?"

He slammed his hands on the table, cutting the man off mid-sentence. The man's eyes widened, his cigar frozen mid-hand.

To be honest, he had been bottling everything up lately. After being dismissed, he needed a way to channel all that pent-up energy. Now, at least, he finally had the chance to let it all out.

"Honestly, what do you expect me to do, huh?" Richard snapped, hands flying up in exasperation. "You come in here yelling like you're some bloody angry parrot, spitting everywhere—what is this, a showdown or a zoo?"

"You're gonna stand there, all tough, and yell at me about Ashley? Who—by the way—is still probably crying into her pillow while you're here lecturing me like I'm some villain. I've been to more dramatic soap operas than this! What is this, a bloody episode of 'Who Wants to Shout the Loudest'?!"

The man blinked, obviously caught off guard by the other party outburst. The tension in the room began to shift, though it was still there—just a little less explosive.

"You—"

"You what?!"

""Monster—"

"...."

Fifteen minutes later, Richard and the man were both out of breath, pacing around the room like winded boxers, trying to catch their breath after a pointless back-and-forth of words. Neither one had given an inch, but they had both thrown enough insults and sarcastic remarks to fill a novel.

"—and all you're doing is making it worse! Should I offer you tea? A biscuit? Maybe a comfy chair to sit on while you yell at me about your poor Ashley? Maybe a pillow so you can scream into it while I try not to laugh?"

This was not what the man had anticipated. Usually, when he spoke, people would just keep quiet because arguing with him was like fighting a never-ending battle.

His words would just roll on and on until he exhausted himself, and then the other party would begin talking logic with him.

But here? The other party clearly wasn't playing according to the script. He was giving it right back.

The man had expected to be the one doing the talking, the one with the upper hand, but instead, he found himself in an argument he hadn't planned for. Richard was indeed a different breed.

The man's eyes narrowed, and he sneered. "Monster, monster. You're a bloody weird guy, you know that?"

Richard let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in his chair "Whatever you say, mate," he muttered, rolling his eyes

"..."

Seeing that no one wanted to back down from each other, in the end, it was Richard who gave in. He sighed and plopped onto the couch. "Let's introduce ourselves properly this time, shall we?"

"...Fine then," the man relented, taking a deep drag of his cigar before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. Once satisfied with his buildup, he finally went for it.

"The name's Eric Hall, darling! Football's original super-agent—the man who's sealed deals bigger than your wildest dreams! Now, tell me, who the bloody hell are you?"

Allen rubbed his temples. What an introduction.

"Richard Maddox. You've seen it in the news, right?"

Eric stared at him, silent.

"What?"

Noticing Eric's odd expression, Richard instinctively ran a hand over his face. Did he have something on it?

Eric scoffed. "I thought you were an agent, a competitor."

Richard frowned. "An agent? You mean a football agent?"

Eric leaned back, exhaling a thick puff of smoke. "Look, darling, I've worked with the best—Dennis Wise, Neil Ruddock, even a few rock 'n' roll legends before I took over football! That's why I know exactly how agents operate."

Richard blinked, momentarily thrown. This... this was the second time someone had told him that.

Was his work actually more like that of a football agent?

Eric smirked. "Listen, this isn't the first time we've crossed paths. I just needed to see what kind of bloke you really are. Newcastle? Oxford? Southampton? Are you kidding me? Why would you go out of your way to escort that kid if you weren't his agent? And why would City even allow it?"

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Richard opened his mouth to respond, but Eric wasn't finished.

"How the bloody hell is a football club still running when they let their employees run amok and disrespect them like that?" He shuddered at the thought. 'Such absurdity. Monster, monster!'

Richard was annoyed by this guy, especially his "Monster, monster!" catchphrase.

What the heck was that?

But then he froze, as if something had just clicked in his memory. "Wait a minute... what's your name again?"

Eric lazily tapped his foot against the floor, utterly unimpressed. Still young and already forgetful. He shook his head. Better to keep my niece away from him before she catches his Alzheimer's.

"Eric Hall."

Richard's eyes widened. "Fasha—"

"STOP-STOP-STOP!" Eric cut him off before he could finish, his breath turning ragged.

That incident was a stain on his career, and every time he heard it mentioned, it annoyed him to death.

But Richard wasn't about to let it go. He grinned and relaxed his body. "Ah, so you're that Eric. The mastermind behind that '£1m Football Star' magazine article..." He gave Eric a thumbs-up.

The £1m Football Star article marked the beginning of the fallout between Eric Hall and his client, John Fashanu. The conflict started when Hall, acting as Fashanu's agent, helped his brother, Justin, sell his story to a national tabloid, in which Justin publicly came out as g*y.

Truly bold!

Eric's face turned red, his nostrils flaring as if steam might come out of his ears. He wanted to snap back, but the brick in his pocket rang.

He didn't even bother to find a quiet place to talk or anything.

"Hello?" he said, picking up his own phone as if to act casual.

"Dave Beasant? I thought we already agreed you was heading to Luton."

"Newcastle made a last-minute bid?"

"Understood. I'm heading to Newcastle right away."

He didn't even care that Richard was literally standing right in front of him!

With a sharp exhale, he suppressed his irritation and jabbed a finger at Richard. "You wait for me here. Our business isn't finished. And stay away from Ashley."

Eric stood up abruptly, ready to storm out, but before he could take a step, Richard grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, wait, wait—you're going to negotiate, right?"

Eric shot him an annoyed look. "And what does that have to do with you?" He tried to yank his hand free, but Richard's grip was firm.

"No, no, hear me out. Let's make a deal, alright? If you let me tag along, I won't bother Ashley again. How about it? A fair trade, yeah?"

Hearing this bastard mention his niece again made Eric's blood boil. His jaw tightened, and for a second, it looked like he might just deck Richard right then and there.

"I DARE—"

"I'll apologize to her myself. Just let me tag along, would you?" Richard said seriously, holding his ground.

Eric exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can bargain with me?"

"I think I just did."

"Arrrh, I am so angry!"

With a forceful yank, he freed his arm and stormed off.

Richard sighed, figuring that was the end of it. But then, to his surprise, Eric whirled back around so fast that he thought he might have given himself whiplash.

He squinted at Richard, clearly battling some internal struggle.

"You promise you'll apologize?"

Richard straightened up, placing a solemn hand over his chest.

"I swear on my manhood!"

"Then get in the bloody car before I change my mind!"