Madrid? He Did!

Prologue

“Another reporter no doubt...” Joey mumbled to himself, as he rolled his eyes at the flashing display on his phone.

He slid the phone back in to his inside pocket and picked his leather satchel from the floor, in one swift move. As he approached the automatic doors, to the airport of Madrid, he managed to get a quick glance at himself in the reflection of the tinted glass. Joey Robinson couldn’t help but turn heads. He towered most with his six foot-three figure, dark, professionally cut slick back haircut, light stubble and a fine taste for suits. He fixed the collar on his immaculate white shirt and proceeded out of the airport.

A glare of sun forced him to squint instantly. Joey slid his hand over his breast pocket and drew out a pair of polarised aviator sunglasses.

As he walked outside, he glanced from left to right, overlooking a sea of Taxis; his glance was caught by a scrawny looking man, with a very ill-fitting suit, standing in front of an impeccably clean, black Mercedes saloon car. The scrawny gentleman, who Joey assumed to be the chauffeur of the vehicle, gave him a discreet nod. Joey turned on his heels and started briskly walking toward the car.

“Hola” Joey nervously said to the chauffeur. He had always sustained some level of self-consciousness when speaking anything other than his native English.

The chauffeur frowned, removed his sunglasses and gave Joey an intense stare.

“You don’t honestly think we’d send a Spanish native to come and pick you up do ya?!” The driver replied, with a comedic smile on his face.

Joey rolled his eyes. Flying was a big deal for Joey and any jokes at this moment in time were certainly not appreciated. The driver opened the rear door and Joey slid himself inside in the car. The cool breeze of the air conditioning hit Joey that he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of instant relief. The driver jumped in and played around with the in-car satellite navigation system for a moment. The destination was on-screen for just enough time for Joey to catch a glimpse;

"Santiago Bernabeu Stadium, Av de Concha Espina”.

Chapter 1 – New Surroundings

The cool chill of the air conditioning was becoming quite intense. Albeit refreshing at first, Joey was on the verge of a shiver.

“I don’t suppose you mind turning that down a notch?” Joey politely requested to the driver.

“O’ course mate. No worries!”

The driver fiddled around with a few buttons on the glamorous centre console. The blast of cool air whistled down to a mere hum.

Bliss.

Joey removed his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer.

Six missed calls.

Joey’s nerves were getting the better of him at this moment in time. He wasn’t in a state of mind to begin return any of these phone calls for the time being. He opened the e-mail application on his phone. Mixes of unimportant messages were laying in his inbox, yet one unread email caught his attention immediately;

“From: Florentino Pérez
Subject: Meeting (01/07/2013)

Dear Mr Robinson,

Thank you very much for replying to my previous email.
The attendees for the meeting on the 1st of July 2013 will be;

Myself – Florentino Pérez – President
Alfredo Di Stefano – Honorary Life President
Fernando Fernandez Tapias – 1st Vice-President
Eduardo Fernandez de Blas – 2nd Vice-President
Enrique Sanchez Gonzalez – Secretary of the Board
Jose Angel Sanchez – Director General
Zinedine Zidane – 1st Team Assistant Manager

Upon arrival, please ask for my secretary Maria Vasques, who will provide you an agenda.

I look forward to your arrival.

Yours Sincerely,

Florentino Pérez
President
Real Madrid C.F.”

Joey’s stomach turned. Analysing the list of attendees felt like being thrown to the lions in a gladiatorial arena. His levels of anxiety were creeping. He drew a carton of cigarettes from his satchel next to him and pulled out a very inviting cigarette. As he sat with the cigarette between his fingers, he offered the carton forward to the driver.

“Want one?”

“Ah! Don’t mind if I do!” The driver, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, rummaged for a cigarette and placed it between his teeth.

“So tell me” He barked with his teeth clenched around the cigarette, pausing to bow his head down and light the end.

“Why’s Mr Joey Robinson all suited and booted and on his way to see Mr Perez?” The driver asked, with a condescending smirk.

He knew. Everyone knew. The tabloids had been following the story for several days now. Whilst Joey wasn’t the bookies favourite, no one could disregard his managerial capabilities. A two year stint at Nottingham Forest were highlighted with a promotion to the Premier League, an FA Cup final showdown with Manchester City (which they lost) and a healthy EURO cup run, which saw them reach the Semi-Finals of the competition. Coupled with a job to Queens Park Rangers, which before he joined, saw them rock bottom of the Premier League after fifteen games, to then being magnificently missing out on a EURO cup spot, Joey’s reputation was certainly well known.

“A private stadium tour of course, courtesy of Mr Perez himself”. Joey replied carelessly, whilst staring at the fast moving landscape.

The driver didn’t look too impressed.

The drive was a long one, but Joey sensed he was near. He’d hit the city centre and the streets were laden with market stalls selling Real Madrid shirts and souvenirs.
Then it hit him. The monumental size of the Santiago Bernabeu suddenly caught his eye. Joey was in awe. In Manchester they have the theatre of dreams; this can only be described as the Coliseum of God.

The driver pulled up outside the reception area, jumped out and opened the door for Joey.

“Here we go Mr Robinson!” He beckoned, guiding his arm out toward the reception door.

Joey stepped out. His nerves were hitting him harder than ever before. The heat showered him instantly once he started walking toward the door. He didn’t mind, he loved the heat. It
was, oddly enough, one of his main reasons to joining Benfica during his playing career.

England is so grey and miserable...

He briskly walked, satchel in hand, toward the reception desk.

“Hi there, I’m here to see Maria Vasques?” He requested softly to the young, very attractive receptionist.

“One moment please” She replied back to him, in a very strong yet sexy Spanish accent.
Joey took a seat in the waiting area. He was awestruck by the place. There were a lot of pictures strewn across the reception area of many of Real Madrid’s accomplishments. Many of Real Madrid’s icons adorned the walls; Luis Figo, Zinedine Zidane, Raul, Roberto Carlos. If the stature of the club hadn’t sunk in to Joey’s head already, it sure would have done after five minutes waiting in reception.

“Mr Robinson!” A very soft female voice perkily appeared from down the corridor.

Maria was about five foot six, short black hair and wore a risky short black pencil skirt, topped with a very open, crisp white blouse and patent leather high heels. She had the most amazing legs Joey had ever seen. She looked good. Very good.

He felt his knees go weak. He forced himself to man up and rose to his feet and offered out his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Maria” He struggled to say, without blushing.

“If you would like to follow me, I will take you to the board room where everybody is waiting for you. I’ll also go through what kind of questions will be asked and how long we expect the meeting to last OK?” She spoke very quickly, yet softly. Joey hardly listened

Those legs...

They had approached a corridor where a huge set of walnut coloured doors met them at the end.

“So Mr Robinson, I believe that’s everything! Would you like a drink of water, tea, coffee?” Maria asked.

“I think I’m fine, but thank you very much” he replied.

“Well, best of luck” she gave him a cute smile and turned on her heels and walked back down the corridor. Joey couldn’t resist one last look at those legs.

This was it. Beyond those doors were some of, if not the most important people in Spanish club football. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and opened the enormous door in front of him.

Great writing mate! Keep it up!