Page 6 of Clean Point

I grumbled a thank you before attempting to walk across the hall. Hissing with pain, I tried to stand on my right leg. The pain was still too much, forcing me to limp. Jon let out a sigh before catching up to me, offering me a shoulder to lean on. I fought against the help, but one look at the far off bench and I was forced to accept the support.

‘Thanks,’ I said yet again as we reached the sidelines, feeling increasingly sorrier for myself. I lowered and took a seat, reaching for my water bottle for some relief.

‘When was the last time you let off some steam?’

‘Didn’t you see the racket from earlier?’

Jon let out a huff of disappointment. ‘I mean like, what was the last thing you did for fun?’

‘Last week. You came over and we watched Bring It On.’

Jon shook his head. ‘Something that’s not with me. Or your family, for that matter. When’s the last time you went out on a date?’

‘I don’t see the relevance.’ I turned away from him, my attention focused on throwing items in my bag for a quick exit from this conversation. Truth was, it had been a while since anything more than casual had even stood a chance. It was easier on tour, every few weeks a new city, a new bar, a new selection on the dating apps. Lying at home feeling sorry for myself didn’t scream ‘single and ready to mingle’.

‘My point is, since the accident, you’re not the same player you were before,’ he said as he sat down beside me, his words carefully chosen.

‘Gee thanks. Glad you’re on my team.’

He raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, ‘are you done?’ before continuing, ‘But it doesn’t mean you can’t become better.’

I stared at him like he’d lost more than a couple marbles, but the serious look remained on his face. ‘I have a plan. But you aren’t going to like it.’

I eyed him for a moment, trying to read his expression, but the lines of his wrinkles and dark brows gave nothing away.

‘What is it?’

‘You’ve played doubles before, right?’

‘A few times.’

‘Ever won?’ he asked. I shrugged before nodding. Doubles had never been my favourite way to play. I didn’t really mind playing that style, but finding the right partner was the biggest struggle. I was fast. I knew how to read the ball, but it was hard to read another player, hard to learn their style and adapt. I knew how to command a court all by myself, so why did I need another person?

Then he told me his plan, and he was right. I hated it.

4

Scottie

Lisbon – Wolf Alice

Three Days Later

I’d considered not showing up at Jon’s. My bag was still packed for Paris, and I’d managed to sneak some of Mum’s vintage Dior, but the name ‘Nico Kotas’ kept me curious enough to remain in London. I pressed the doorbell of Jon’s rented apartment. My racing heart had barely a moment to settle before a visibly frustrated Jon swung the door open.

‘Scottie!’ he sang loudly, before his voice dipped into an angry whisper, ‘You’re forty-five minutes late.’

‘Lovely to see you, Jon.’ I pushed forward, ignoring his comment, before stepping past him into the hallway. ‘The tube was busy.’

It had taken a lot of convincing to leave the house. Some more to catch the train. I kept thinking of the last few years, of all the freedom I’d had, all the fun. But there was something Jon had said to me when he visited that had played on my mind and kept me wondering.

Could I really win?

I remembered how it felt to raise that Wimbledon plate. The glory of it all, the relief that years of work had led to. The feeling had been stolen from me. But I wanted to feel it again, to earn it, to fight for it. I was still so hungry for that win.

Jon grumbled as he closed the door behind me, and I slipped off my raincoat before hanging it up. I hadn’t bothered dressing up, only wearing some comfy leggings and an old designer jumper, but now I was inside, doubts crept in, and I began to wonder if I should have tried to make a better impression.

Jon led me through to the front room, and there I found him, Nico Kotas. He was only slightly taller than I was, but large. Even his presence was dominating.

---