"A cheater! A frikking cheater! I will kill him for this!" Emilia shouted, throwing the magazine away with force. It landed on the ground between her and Neymar pai, who was staring at the woman with caution, and a hint of fear. He'd never seen her this angry before. "I can't believe he would do this to my daughter! Can you believe he would do this to my daughter?"
Pai took a deep breath, holding up his palms to try and calm Emilia down. She'd started to pace up and down the kitchen at Neymar's house. "First of all, we need to calm down and think about this thoroughly," he said. "I'm sure it's not what it looks like."
At least I hope, was what he added in his mind.
Emilia glared at him seethingly. She came to a hold in front of him, stemmed her hands in the side of her hips and held his gaze so hard he didn't dare look away. "Oh, but what does it look like? If you hadn't noticed, it looks like that girl is NOT Tamira! It looks like that girl is NOT even looking anything like Tamira! It looks like that girl is NOT your son's supposed girlfriend that he loves and cares about and risks both their careers for! So tell me! What else does it look like?"
Unfortunately, Pai didn't have an answer to this. He didn't understand what he saw in that magazine and online all around either. He thought he knew his son inside and out. Neymar wasn't the type to cheat, was he? He wasn't even sure his son was capable of cheating or anything coming close to it. He was way too in love with Tamira, that much even he had come to finally realize. He'd seen those two together, there was no doubt his son loved the Australian girl. He was happy with her. He even kept talking to him about possible scenarios for when (not if) their relationship would become known publicly.
"Look," he started – because he had to start somewhere. "We won't find answers unless we talk to Neymar and get his explanation for this. And with 'we' I mean 'I' will talk to him," Pai was quick to correct his words. "You're only going to kill him."
Emilia scoffed. "If Tami hasn't already done so."
If she's got only a little bit of your temper, then I fear for my son's life, Pai thought, but was wise enough not to say out loud.
"And there I was, backing them up when you were so against them dating!" Emilia continued. "You knew this would happen, did you? Back then, you already knew!"
He needed to be cautious here. Cautious, but also honest. "It... it did come to my mind that something would certainly happen that could jeopardize the relationship." Emilia took a breath to counter but Pai was quicker than her. "But by no means did I ever think that this–" He pointed to the magazine lying haphazardly on the ground. "–was going to be a possibility. I was more thinking along the lines of their careers and images getting mudded or dented something. Not their hearts. Never their hearts."
Emilia's shoulder slacked and she hung her head in front of her, looking devastated, but also finally powered out and tired.
"Liar," she said with a sad smile on her face. She sat down on a chair, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes followed his movement as he picked up the magazine and put it on the table. "You knew their hearts would take a beating. You just hoped it wouldn't be your son's. No, don't disagree here." She held up a finger in warning when he was about to object. "I'm a parent too, and it would be wrong to not think about your own child first. If I were to hold that against you than you would do wise to hold it against me that I was hoping it would be your son's heart that got broken, not my girl's."
Pai contemplated her words for a moment, knowing they were true and there was no reason to argue about that. He put his hand over hers, trying to find a half satisfying conclusion for now. There was nothing to do but speculate until he could get a hold on his son – who conveniently had shut off his phone ever since this morning. "Maybe we're not seeing everything here. We'll get this sorted out, alright? But for now it would be best if we didn't jump to conclusions. I'll get some answers for you."
Emilia nodded solemnly. "You better talk to Duda about damage control."
She stood up, taking a deep breath and trying her best to pull herself together. The thought of her daughter getting hurt was still too much to deal with; especially when it was the kind of hurt a mother couldn't really help with by kissing a scratch or putting a plaster on a cut.
"Good idea," Pai said, grabbing his phone from his pocket. "Would you get Richie to come by as well so that we can have a video conference with Duda. He's still in town because of the whole club incident, isn't he?"
"Yeah," she replied, pulling out her phone and dialling Tamira's manager's number.
In the adjourning room, Neymar's best friends, Gil and Jo, exchanged worried looks, having listened to the conversation, unbeknownst to the conversationalists.
Gil tilted his head, pondering. When they could hear Pai and Emilia talking on the phone, he said, "I'm not sure as of yet, but I think our brilliant plan from yesterday sort of backfired."
Jo scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No kidding." For further emphasis, he hit him on the upper arm.
"Ow! Hey, that hurts!" Sulking, Gil rubbed the offended body part. "You know that's where I crashed into the bar counter yesterday!"
Jo only gave him a nonplussed look. "Yes, well, you did manage to find the one girl in the club with a brick wall for a boyfriend for that publicity stunt, so I say that was well deserved! Now come on." He grabbed Gil's arm and pulled him into the kitchen. "We gotta do damage control here."
—–-
The door of the refrigerator closed with a clank. Tamira moaned unhappily and went to grab the whipped cream spray dose from the cupboard instead. Neymar's shirt rose up over her thighs.
"Hey, Ney, we're out of chocolate sauce, so I hope you like whipped cream with the strawberries!" she shouted.
She didn't receive an answer so she was just on her back into the living room, humming happily to a tune in her head, when she heard the repeated sound of her phone beeping. She'd gotten a message. She stopped, irritated by the sound; mostly because she thought she'd put it on silent. Walking over to the kitchen table, she grabbed the phone that lay there and pressed a button. Immediately, her eyebrows rose in wonderment – there were over ten missed calls and several chat messages waiting for her.
Curious now, she dialled back the one number that had called her the most.
"Thank God you finally picked up!" Emma said instead of a greeting. "Please tell me you've seen the screens and links I've sent you?"
"What screens and links?"
But Emma hadn't heard the question; she was on a roll. A quite obviously angry one, going by the rant that followed. "Is the B.I. still there with you? I just found out about an hour or so, and Rafa is making it incredibly difficult to leave his house because he apparently doesn't want to be in a relationship with a murderer! I swear, otherwise I'd already be there, kicking that stupid, evil, lying, disgusting Brazilian Idiot's ass the hell away from my best friend! That–"
"Woah, hold up a second!" Tamira interrupted the other girl. "What the hell are you talking about, Em?"
Emma breathed out heavily. She sounded beaten and tired when she said the next words. "Did you know about this? No, forget that, no matter what, he's taken this too far. Just... take a look at the chat messages? Now. Call me if you need me. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"
Then she hung up. Tamira looked at the phone, puzzled for a moment. Okay, that was weird, she thought, opening the app anyways. Even for Emma.
She made for the door to go back upstairs (their adventures had driven them into her bedroom for round two) when her steps faltered. She stared at the phone, eyes widening.
Emma had sent her several pictures, and with each new one loading on her screen, Tamira's heart took a hit.
This couldn't be true, could it?
Tamira's hand clenched around her phone. She grit her teeth, feeling the anger boiling inside. She took a few quick breaths, her nerves standing on end. What the hell?!
It was that moment that she heard the footsteps. A second later, Neymar was coming through the door, clad only in his boxers. The smile on his face disappeared as soon as he took in her devastated state, though. "Hey, princesa! Do you need help finding the– what's wrong?"
She couldn't answer him, her mind having difficulty with putting together a coherent thought, not to mention a straight sentence.
"Mira?" There was concern in his voice and his eyes. He stepped over to her, his arms rising to wrap around her frame. One of his hands was about to caress her cheek.
That's when Tamira came out of her stupor. "Oh no, you don't touch me right now!" she hissed, taking a step away from him.
Neymar stared at her utterly confused. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes fell on the phone in her hand and he closed it again.
It dawned on him then.
"You didn't see..." he mumbled, more to himself than to her. He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. And it had worked, after all. Of course it worked, idiot! People love to talk about you. That was the whole idea behind it, wasn't it?
Tamira lifted an eyebrow at his words. "So you wanna explain to me what exactly I supposedly didn't see? Or shall I take a few guesses and you tell me when I'm getting closer?"
"Look, I thought you were okay with this, okay?" he replied, confusing Tamira even more. "I asked you if everything's okay earlier. You said yes!"
Her eyes widened. "And you think that's what I was saying yes to? You kissing someone else?!"
Neymar took a deep breath, putting his hands together and placing them on his lips. "You really didn't read my message? God, please tell me you got that message from me? You didn't pick up the phone yesterday!"
The look on her face told him she had no clue. "No, I haven't looked at the damn thing up until now, as I'm gonna assume you can tell by my reaction here!"
"Okay," he went on, licking his lips nervously. "I sent you a message yesterday. Explaining what we were planning to do! I thought you were–"
Tamira shook her head, lifting a finger in warning. "Oh no, don't put this on me, Ney. Besides, why would you ever think that I was going to be okay with this?" She grimaced. "And who would ever get the idea to ask his girlfriend if cheating on her was okay?!"
"No, that's not what it was! It–" he began, but Tamira cut him off.
"Then what was it? What does it like? Neymar, you're licking her frikking ear!" She was yelling at him, her eyes glistening with anger, betrayal and hurt. He flinched, unable to take back the damage that had been done to her heart. "So go on and tell me what it looks like! Because to me it looks like you're quite enjoying the taste of somebody else's neck!"
He held up his palms, a pleading look on his face. "Please, just let me explain this okay? We were out yesterday and–"
"You felt like getting a taste of au de whore?" Tamira finished his sentence with a sneer. She threw her phone on the table in a careless manner, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
"That's not what it was!" he retorted. "I mean, that's what it's supposed to look like, but it's really not! Look, this was all part of this stupid plan for this media stunt and I really wanted to tell you but–"
She looked at him nonplussed Her voice was edgy, cutting through his words like a butcher's knife. "Oh, so this was part of a plan! Now I understand! Kissing other women without telling your girlfriend. Right, good plan. And totally believable too! Glad we talked about it beforehand. Oh wait, you conveniently forgot to let me in on your so called plan!"
"Well," he said, too stunned to really explain himself further. Mainly because she'd hit bull's eye. It had been a stupid stunt in the first place and he knew he should have talked to her about it beforehand. Lest of all let her find out about it via the media. He shrugged helplessly. "That was kind of what the message was for..."
Instead of saying anything, Tamira screamed angrily. "God, I'm so angry with you right now, you have no idea how!" Then picked up the first thing she could get her hands on.
Neymar held up his arms in front of his face, jumping to the side on reflex. The empty glass from last night's thirst-quenching split into pieces when it hit the refrigerator a few steps away from him.
The kitchen floor around the refrigerator was scattered with shards. He looked at the broken glass in shock, then at Tamira in disbelief. "What the hell?! You could've hit me with that!"
She leaned forward, glaring daggers at him. "Kind of was the purpose of that."
The dose of whipped cream was next, landing against his upper arm. Thankfully, her heart didn't really seem to be in the action anymore, so the hit didn't hurt as much as it could have. The dose landed on the ground with a plank. Neymar rubbed his arm, watching the dose roll until it hit the wall.
At least the throwing-things-at-him had calmed her down somewhat, judging by her tired expression when she turned and slumped down on a chair, arms crossed on the surface in front of her, her head hanging down.
Silence followed, leaving Neymar clueless as to what to do next. Darn it to hell and back if he knew how to deal with her right now! So he just stood there, waiting.
After what felt like an eternity, Tamira grabbed her phone, looking through the messages. Neymar held his breath.
Then she finally put the phone back on the table again. "I'm gonna have to kill Gil and Jo now, I hope you know that."
Neymar felt relief flooding his system, breathing out heavily. She believed him. God graces, she believed him! He chuckled nervously, heart fluttering. "Tell you what, I'll even help you with that."
Tamira gave him a sideways glance, still wary of everything that had happened in the past few minutes.
"I'm so sorry," Neymar finally said what he'd wanted to say all along. Mindful of the glass shards, he took a few steps forward, stopping in front of the chair. Her eyes followed his movement, calculatively. Neymar grimaced; she was still making up her mind about everything.
"Tamira, if I'd known it would come to this, I would have never agreed to this! I'd never... I'd never cheat on you like this. I love you, Mira, I would never..." He shook his head, his gaze wandering around the room, searching for the right words. "I could never do that to you."
She stared at him for a while. Then she breathed out heavily, having come to a conclusion – to forgive and forget it. She tilted her head, the corner of her lips turning upward the tiniest bit. Neymar's heart took a leap of joy at the sight of that. "Why would you ever think that this was a good idea?"
She stood up, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, to press her close to him. Her hands came to rest on his shoulder blades, her head resting on his chest, nose nuzzling into his neck. It felt like heaven after this hell of an argument.
"I have absolutely no idea," he said, kissing her neck softly. "Not that this is an excuse, but you definitely shouldn't decide things like that when drunk. But trust me on this, it won't happen again. Ever."
He hadn't expected the sting of her nails pinching him in the flesh. Hard. He winced when she wouldn't stop. "Uhm, ouch? That, uh... hurts."
Tamira sighed into his neck. Her voice was sugarcoated, sickly sweet. "Damn right it does. And you're good to remember that."
He chuckled tensely, trying to ignore the pain her nails were causing him. God dammit, she was a football player, how the heck were her nails long enough to hurt so bad? "Sooo... I guess we'll forget about the glass you threw my way and you forget the whole episode and we call it even?"
Tamira laughed, breaking the hug. She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a bright smile. "Ah, one would think so, wouldn't one? But that's where you're wrong, my love." Her voice turned cold, her eyes burning with anger. "You kissed another woman, no matter the motives. We're far from even."
With that she walked right past him through the kitchen door and into the hallway, shouting over her shoulder, "Mind the shards on your way out!"
Neymar winced when he could first hear her steps up the stairs and then the door to her bedroom being thrown shut.
That went well. Not..., he thought, putting his hands on his hips. His skin on his back was starting to sting from where Tamira had put her nails into his shoulder blades. He grimaced, but only partly because of the pain. He'd screwed up. Big time.
Then he looked down on his half-naked form. Most of his clothes were still in her room. I guess the media have another story to write about, he mused.
"'Neymar Jr caught driving in his underwear'." He scoffed and shook his head. "Quite a headline."
----
I am honestly so bored at work right now, it's not even funny... So I decided to post this very tricky chapter. I hope you don't want to kill me now! :)
So what do you think? Good reason? Stupid reason? How will Tami forgive him for this and how do you think should Neymar apologize and amend for this? And do you imagine the mysterious limousine guy cackling wickedly in his car right now as well as I do...?
All the best!
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Published on: 16 June 2016