This is a story about how a bet between a group of self-important, entitled football (soccer) players ended up causing repercussions far beyond anything they had envisaged as they tangled with the wrong man. A man who had far more power than they expected and he used it.
There is no sex in this story. This is his fight for justice.
My name is Gordon Bryson. Before I get to the event which blew up my world, I'll give you some background.
I'm in my mid-forties and run our family firm. It is one of the biggest employers in the country with slightly more than 5000 employees over a number of divisions. Every week I receive offers from hedge funds to buy us out. They would move 80% of the jobs abroad. I could never do that to my staff. I pay them well and make sure we look after them. If someone is ill or has to look after an ill partner or child, we support them. Some, women especially, ask to leave to look after an ill parent or parents. I give them a leave of absence so that if they wish they have a job to come back to.
I also employ a number of people who had been in trouble with the law. Everyone deserves a second chance (with a few crimes excepted).
I'm not a saint but I believe if you show you care people are happier and work better. They have helped build the company after all.
I support a lot of charitable work in the community. Without that community, where would I get my staff from?
My wife Kirsty is a couple of years younger than me and still the most beautiful woman I know. I would die for her and she would die for me, or so I thought. We have three children, aged 18,16, and 13 who were very badly affected by the events.
Outside work and family, I had a lifelong passion for our local football team. The team betrayed that!
I know that if this had happened to one of my machinists, they couldn't have extracted the revenge which I did. Probably no more than 1 in 50000, if not more could.
The single event which started all the subsequent actions occurred just over six months ago.
It started like a normal day. A Friday in late July. Kirsty and I spoke at breakfast about our plans for the day. I had a business meeting at a hotel with a prospective new client which should be clear by six or seven pm. She was heading out with her girlfriends for a meal and they thought about going onto a club for a dance. I didn't mind. I fully trusted Kirsty and the group were all in solid marriages. I told her, "Your feet probably feel relieved that I won't be there standing on them."
She laughed as she kissed me goodbye. There was enough in the kiss to suggest I delay my plans for work. I was about to take her up on the invitation when our daughter Sarah came downstairs. Don't you just hate school holidays.
I set off to work and worked all morning. The meeting was at two but just before my team and I were to head to the hotel, we received word a large electrical outage had happened and the hotel had no power. It took a few more hours to rearrange hotels as we needed one with conference facilities to make the presentations.
The meeting finally began around 4.30 pm and we broke around 7.00 for a meal. The discussions were good and eventually we finished around 10.45. We had covered a lot of ground and both parties felt we would be working together soon. All in all, a good day!
By the time we had collected everything and had a drink (in my case non-alcoholic) at the bar it was probably just after 12.
I had just left the hotel entrance and was making my way to my car when I heard my wife's voice. I was shocked when I looked and saw her arm in arm with one of the football team's so called star players. I thought he was cheating, diving arse. They were walking from the nearby club towards the hotel. When he moved his arm around her and drew her in to kiss her, my shock gave way to mad, bloody mad!
I stormed up to them, shouting at the bastard to get his hands of my wife. He just smirked and kissed her again. She wasn't protesting. I don't think she realised I was approaching. My peripheral vision saw two thugs, doormen from the club heading in our direction. Made sense, the club is owned by the football club chairman, Tolbert.
As I got within a few yards of them, Kirsty saw me. To say she was surprised would be mild. Maybe if the lighting had been better, I may have spotted a clue behind her behaviour.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" she shouted, alarm showing on her face.
"I could ask you the same. What are you doing in this bastard's arms?" My tone showing how mad I was.
"I'm having a good time. We're going to fuck the night away. I'll come home sometime soon!" she giggled.
I looked at Devon cunt Smith, chief diver and general arsehole. When he saw my eyes, his smirk left his face.
"You won't be playing football for long! You've truly fucked up arsehole!"
I turned to Kirsty and tried to pull her away. He kept hold of her.
"What the fuck's up with you? What do you think will happen? If you go with him, don't come home, ever again. The kids and I don't need a whore!"
Kirsty killed me when she screamed, "I need a man, a young cock not an old man. I've hated you for years!"
The smirk came back on his face. I lost any composure I may have had and went to knock him into tomorrow but the thugs grabbed me. I struggled like hell but they had me. Arsehole and my wife walked away towards the hotel.
The thugs watched them go and then punched me to the ground and kicked me to bits. "Let it go. She'll be back!" They laughed as they walked towards the hotel.
I made my way towards my car or rather staggered holding my ribs. I couldn't think straight. I ran into Kirsty's friend Dee. She saw me bleeding and asked what had happened. She said something about a number of women acting very strange. She was going to try and stop Kirsty. This wasn't Kirsty, something was wrong, seriously wrong.
I let her go. I was mad, bloody mad. To my shame, I never took in Dee's words. I never thought about Kirsty just getting revenge.
I called Trevor, a senior manager who was working on my firm sponsoring the football team.
"Trevor, I'm sorry for calling so late. Have we signed the sponsorship deal with the club?"
Trevor was surprised, "No! What's up?"
I must have sounded mad, angry or worse when I shouted, "The club condone their players fucking other men's wives. I'm not sponsoring them. They will not get a penny from me."
Trevor gasped, "Kirsty!"
"Yes!"