Sequel: 4 Devils

Chelsea Dawn

Chapter 9

Johnny woke up as he glacned a the alarm clock on the nightstand, the ticks loud in the still air. He rolled over and smiled when he saw Mabel still sleeping, careful to still the alarm as to not wake her. I got business at Stamford Bridge, Mick said the new Spanish blokes are arriving today, he thought.

Johnny rolled out of bed and took a quick shower before shaving, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He was a good-looking man with dark brown hair cut short and keen hazel eyes, his tall muscular body clad in a towel as he carefully shaved. I hope Mick was right about these Spanish bloke and they can speak English, I just know English, he thought.

He splashed on some aftershave and dressed in his gray suit, grabbing the keys taking one last look at his wife. She'll be fine for a couple of hours, that's what Gran says. And later she has to go to the doctor, he thought.

Johnny placed his gun inside his hidden holder underneath his jacket and left the house. Stamford Bridge was only a few blocks away as he made his way towards the stadium, a few cars passing by and the streets crowded with pedestrians on their way to the nearest Tube station. "Good morning, Mr. Watson", said Henry, the security guard.

"Good morning, Henry. Are the Spanish blokes here yet?", he asked.

"Yeah, I led them to your office. They're alright, I understand 'em. They speak English right good for foreigners", said Henry.

Johnny nodded as he went to his office. Two young men in suits were waiting as they got up from their seats. "Welcome to Stamford Bridge, gentlemen. Are you the Spanish blokes?", he asked.

"Si, senor Watson. I am Fernando Torres", said the taller one.

"And I am Juan Mata", said the shorter man.

Johnny nodded as he bade them to sit down and looked through their records, glancing at them. Fernando was tall and lanky with short reddish-brown hair and brown eyes while Juan was shorter and muscular with curly light brown hair and blue eyes, both men wearing simple gray suits.

"I like your records a lot, fellows. But what made you want to transfer to an English club?", asked Johnny.

"The situation in Spain is a mess, one half the country wants the Republic and the other half wants Franco. It does not look good in Spain at the moment, there might not be a football season so we decided to get out before it got real bad", said Juan.

"Yeah, I read about that in the papers, it's a right mess there. I like your records and you blokes speak English real good, I was worried about that. Our training camp starts in a week, and here are your contracts. We are going to beat the Gunners next year, we lost to them in the Cup finals. Do you need anything", asked Johnny.

"Si, are there any good flats for rent? Our wives and us are staying at a hotel", said Fernando.

"We'll help you find something, Mr. Torres. I know a bloke who owns a building where many of our players live, we'll see if we can find you a place. For the contracts, you'll get a base salary of 25 pounds per week and a bonus if you score more than 30 goals, plus additional bonuses for every round we go in the playoffs", said Johnny.

Fernando and Juan read over their contracts carefully and signed their names on the dotted line. "Very nice, gentlemen. And I have to go now, my wife has an appointment with her doctor. We're expecting a baby in October", said Johnny proudly.

"Felicidades, senor Watson", said Fernando.

"Thank you, it's our first child. I'm more worried than her, but my nan says not worry unless the doctor says something. See you next week at training camp", said Johnny.

"Gracias, senor Watson", said Fernando.

"Please call me Mr. Watson, and I'll get in contact if I find a flat for you blokes", said Johnny.

"Okay, Mr. Watson. Hasta luego", said Juan as they all shook hands.

Johnny made sure the contracts were in order and left them on the desk to send over to the team's solicitor, taking his hat and jacket before leaving his office. "How did the meeting with the Spanish blokes go?", asked Mabel.

He smiled at his wife and kissed her cheek. "Fine, I had them sign contracts and left them for Mick to send over to Mr. Brown. And how's the bairn doing?", he asked, letting a bit of his Yorkshire drawl to slip out.

"Your son keeps kicking me, he's going to be the next big striker for Chelsea", she laughed, a hand on her baby bump. Mabel was an attractive young woman in her mid-twenties with wavy dark brown hair cut in a bob and merry brown eyes, wearing a simple black maternity dress with lace trim and flat shoes, a straw hat on her head.

"Only two months to go, love. It would be n ice to know so we could buy the right clothes and paint the nursery the proper colors, our baby has nothing but white clothes", said Johnny.

"It's a boy, the way he's kicking me it has to be a boy. Mam says only a boy would kick that hard", said Mabel.

"Or it could be a very big girl, it would be nice if she was pretty like her Mam", teased Johnny.

The wait inside the doctor's office seemed to take forerver, Johnny feeling out of place among all the pregnant women. "Mrs. Mabel Watson", said the nurse as Mabel went into the office.

Mabel sat on the chair as her midwife Mrs. Cleary and obstrician Dr. Graham came into the room. "Hello, Mrs. Watson. Is there anything unusual about the baby?", asked the doctor.

"No, but he kicks me like a bloody mule. I tell Johnny he's going to be the star striker for Chelsea when he gets older", she joked.

"That is typical for a baby seven months along, Mabel. Aye, this is child is going to be a big one", said Mrs. Cleary in her Irish brogue.

"Johnny says it's a boy but it could be a very big girl. We won't know until it gets here", said Dr. Graham, using his stethoscope to hear the baby's heartbeat. "The baby's heart is fine, it's going to be a big, strong baby Mrs. Watson", he said.

"I do hope those Spanish blokes your husband signed are good, at least they'll be good Catholic lads", said Mrs. Cleary.

"I hope so too, I lost twenty pounds betting on Chelsea last year", said Dr. Graham.

"We'll see about that", said Mabel.

"What do you think about your new boss?", asked Juan.

Fernando shrugged as he took off his suit jacket. "El parece bien, el tiene una esposa qu esta emberaza, son bueno. Necessito a mirar mas, Juan", he replied.

"Verdad, pero esta haciendo algos malos", said Juan.

"How is your new boss?", asked Violette.

"He seems decent enough, he's taking his wife to the doctor because she's pregnant. He doesn't act like a gangster at all", said Fernando.

"You can't judge a book by it's cover, Fernando. Just because he may be a gangster doesn't mean he is mean to his wife", said Christina.

Juan smiled and put an arm around the petite blond. "Verdad, Christina. We just have to make sure this guy doesn't get himself killed", he said.

"We got a week to kill before training camp, what do you want to do?", asked Fernando.d

"We're in London, we ought to look around. I haven't been to London since I was a child", said Christina.

Just then, the hotel phone rang. "Hello?", asked Fernando.

"We found a flat for you and Mr. Mata just a block from Stamford Bridge, we want you to check it out. It's at 511 Fulham Road, tell us if you like it and it can be yours. This is Edward Jones, the team's solicitor", said the voice on the phone.

"Bueno, we'll go and check it out", said Fernando.

Half an hour later, the group found themselves in a two bedroom flat in Fulham as the team solicitor Edward Jones showed them around. "I hope this pleases you, Mr. Torres and Mr. Mata. It's close to Stamford Bridge and many of the players live close by, it has room for both you and your wives", he said. The flat was just down the block from Stamford Bridge and had two bedrooms, a parlor, a bathroom, a kitchen and a little balcony overlooking the street with basic furnishings.

"It's good, we will just check out of the hotel and come here", said Fernando.

"All right, I'll get the contract from the landlord and you sign it. You can't have loud parties or invite odd people over, there's an eleven o'clock curfew on weekdays. We cannot have anyone sully the good name of Chelsea FC", said the solicitor.

"Bueno, senor Jones", said Juan as the solicitor took out a document from his briefcase.

Fernando and Juan signed the paper as Jones signed it at the bottom. "Very good, gentlemen. If there is anything else you need, just let me know", he said, packing up his briefcase and leaving the flat.