Page 27 of The Game

“Oh, but it was so exciting to watch! So much better than tennis.”

His lips curl up farther, and he shakes his head.

“It reminded me of the tournaments I played when I was younger.” I swing my arm around to encompass all the kids that are now drifting off. “If that doesn’t sound patronizing or insulting or anything.”

“Not at all.”

“I’d forgotten what a slog it all was. How there was no reward for any of it, year after year, competition after competition. How I knew who I had to beat and exactly how talented they were, how much better they’d got in the last year, how much better I had to be.”

Adam gestures forward, and we start walking away from the stadium as he tilts his head at me. “That sounds hard. What kept you going?”

I tuck my hand into his arm. “My dad really. It was his dream, not mine. He played but had to give up tennis to take care of his younger brother, who had muscular dystrophy and died when he was twenty-one. He never got over giving up his dream. He tried to go back to it, but he couldn’t catch up and eventually stopped playing when he was twenty-seven, I think.”

“That sounds rough.”

“It was tough on him, but I was happy to do it, to carry on his dream, you know? I wanted to do it for him so badly. He isn’t an ogre, and I always loved the game and going to competitions with him. It was something we shared.”

“He must be over the moon with how successful you’ve been.”

I eye him sideways. “He is, but underneath it all there’s anger in him, too. Tennis was his life. He could have made it. He was a terrific player when he was younger.”

“God, I’m sorry, Anna. That’s such a sad story.”

I squeeze his arm. “Why are we talking about me when you just won so many fights? What are we doing to celebrate?”

“Well, I need to eat, if that’s something you’d be up for?”

I grin up at him. “Definitely.”

Later on, when I’m back alone in my apartment, full of delicious food, and watching jujitsu videos like my life depends upon it, a text drops into my phone from Damian:

Nice!

It’s a picture of Adam and me in the little Chinese place we went to, and I laugh. He’s got his head on one side, listening intently. I was explaining to him about how to develop a killer backhand and offering to play tennis with him.

I zoom in on the earnest expression on his face. God, he’s such a good person. What was Damian saying about my instincts? Maybe my instinct to be friends with Adam is a smart one.

God knows, I need some better men in my life.

11

ADAM

When I’m back at my desk at 8 a.m. on Monday morning, a call lights up my phone.

“Hey, Ted, how’s it going?” It must be something urgent if he’s calling this early.

Ted and I have been friends for years. He runs an electronics company we supply components to when they need something fast.

“Adam, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’ve got some bad news. We’re closing the business.”

“Closing what business?Yourbusiness?” My heart takes a dive off the edge of a cliff without a support rope.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Adam. We made the decision last night. I wanted you to be one of the first to know. You’ve helped us out a great deal, but we can’t make any profit from being middlemen for the Chinese market anymore.”

“But I thought you did a lot of bespoke work? Design and build?”

“Yeah, we do, but we’ve been losing money for years and …” He breaks off with a long sigh. “You know how it is, Adam. Hardware is tough. Staff are difficult to find and expensive, contracts are impossible, and no one wants to pay what they really cost to deliver. They can do more and more of this bespoke work in China now.”

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