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CHAPTER FOUR

Dutch Courage

“ I ’m pretty confident there’s no fracture, so that’s a good sign,” Julie said as she finished strapping my ankle with a compression bandage. “But I still want you to get some scans tomorrow.”

Julie had arrived, wearing a leather ultra-mini skirt.

I wasn’t sure it was appropriate attire for a woman who’d be pushing forty, but I had to admit she managed to rock it.

She was tall and had long, slender legs, naturally curly red hair, and a smattering of reddish freckles across her nose which made her look younger than she was.

Joel smiled his signature smile at her, and I swear her knees almost gave way. Joel was damn handsome when he turned the charm on. And he knew it. That was the problem. I didn’t think his impressive body was big enough to hold his enormous ego.

Julie excused herself to use the bathroom. I propped my ankle up on the armrest of the lounge and turned my sly gaze to Joel, who was leaning over the back of the lounge, watching me with a smirk.

“She probably needs to change her Depends,” I commented lightly. “You shouldn’t smile at old people like that – they’re liable to wet themselves.”

Joel chuckled. “Say what you want, Stink, but you know that later on tonight, when you’re in bed all alone, I’m going to be making her wet herself in a sexy way.

I like a woman with a bit of experience.

Now, if you’d been with more than one guy, I might be interested, but I don’t give lessons to beginners, sorry. ”

I propped myself up on my elbows and glared at him. “Oh, hand me a bucket, I think I’m going to puke! Besides, I have been with more than one guy.”

Joel straightened. “Sorry, Mel, but the yeti you boned last night doesn’t count.”

If I’d had use of both my legs I would’ve gotten up to punch him, but I couldn’t, so I settled for throwing the remote at him. I missed, and he picked it up with a grin and sat it gently down on the armrest beside me.

“You know what’s funny, Joel?” I asked, forcing a breezy tone through clenched teeth. “That you actually believe that the only reason you haven’t slept with me is because you don’t want to.”

He gazed right at me then, turning the full force of his very blue eyes onto me. I tried my hardest to meet them with defiance.

“Mel, one day you’ll realise that you want me.”

“Oh, God, I really hope so. I just can’t wait to be another notch on your bedpost!” My voice dripped with sarcasm.

Julie cleared her throat behind us. Joel flinched and turned around.

I could see her face over the back of the sofa.

She looked a little put out. I guess she’d heard the last part of our conversation.

Well, take that, Joel. Maybe you won’t be making her ‘wet herself in a sexy way’ tonight after all!

“Ready to go?” Joel asked her. She smiled at him and I took back my last little thought. Julie was clearly all too eager to fall under the Joel Herbert spell.

“You both have a really nice time tonight!” I called insincerely as they headed for the door. “Don’t worry about me; the invalid will just look after herself for the night.”

Joel sighed and turned around. Julie had brought a pair of crutches with her, and they were propped against the wall just inside the door. He carried them over and put them on the floor beside me.

“No need to milk it, Mel,” he said in an undertone. “You’ll be fine. Steve will be back in no time. I’ll see you tomorrow. ”

He stood up and walked back over to the door. “Don’t wait up!” he called as he ushered Julie out.

The thought of Steve returning before Joel kind of terrified me. Joel might be annoying as all Hell, but he had a knack for defusing his dad’s explosive moods.

And now I’d be left to cop the full brunt of it, while Joel romanced my physiotherapist.

I was sobbing before I even had a chance to work out what was making me feel so upset. I forcefully rubbed at my wet cheeks, wishing the tears away.

My phone rang. With a shaky sigh of relief that someone out there wanted to talk to me, I reached for it.

“Hey Brad,” I mumbled. I made a pathetic effort to sound like I wasn’t crying, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Are you okay, Mel? Are you in pain?” he asked anxiously. I was touched by his worry.

“Nah, just down about the match. And feeling a little lonely.”

“What, isn’t Steve there?”

I shrugged. “Nope. And Joel just left to screw my physio.”

Brad snorted. “Why does that not surprise me? I am surprised that Steve left you all alone with a sprained ankle though.”

It was my turn to snort. “I’m not. We had a massive fight.”

“Why?” Brad was curious.

“Oh, it’s a long story, but the gist of it is that he’s pissed at me because I lost.”

“That’s bullshit! I mean, it’s not your fault that you fell over and sprained your ankle!”

“Well thanks, it’s good to know that someone’s on my side.” Even if it was in part my own fault.

“I’m always on your side, Mel. Do you want to grab dinner? Amanda moved her flight up to get back to work, I just dropped her at the airport, but I’m still down here until tomorrow evening. Maybe we could get Uber Eats, watch some crappy TV?”

I smiled, feeling heaps better already just at the thought of having Brad with me .

“Sure, that sounds great. I’m in room … actually, I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

Brad inhaled through his teeth. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? You’re not supposed to be moving on a sprained ankle.” Brad would know, he was studying medicine at Uni.

“It’s okay, I’ve got crutches. I want you to take me somewhere if that’s alright?”

“Um, okay. I’ll be there in about twenty.”

I arrived in the foyer long before Brad was due, so I took a seat in one of the tub chairs and sighed.

People looked at me with funny expressions, some of them even surreptitiously pointing their phone cameras in my direction.

Great, I was infamous now: the tennis player who stuffed her Australian Open chances by falling over.

Fan-fucking-tastic . Just what I’d always wanted to be remembered for.

I’d been playing the pro circuit for two years now; I thought I’d gotten pretty good at ignoring the unwanted attention.

Didn’t stop me wishing I could do a Russell Crowe and chuck my phone at them.

“Looking good, Mel!” Brad’s mellow voice was like music to my ears. I looked up and beamed at him.

“You have no idea how great it is to see you!” I gushed.

Brad grinned, looking so boy-next-door it was almost criminal.

His floppy dark blonde hair fell into his grey eyes, never looking quite tidy enough.

His smile was bright and lopsided, and his teeth weren’t perfectly straight, giving him an approachable air.

He was tall and lean, dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt.

“So, where do you want me to take you?” Brad asked, helping me to my feet and tucking the crutches under my arms.

“I need to get to a church,” I replied, hobbling out the front door. Brad helped me down the three steps, where his car was idling in the valet parking area.

“A church? Mel, you haven’t been inside a church since high school.” Brad sounded dubious.

“Exactly. Clearly I’m overdue. Besides, I broke a promise to God, and I need to make up for it before he sends worse shit my way. ”

Brad shrugged. “Your wish is my command.”

The smell of frankincense inside Saint Eric’s hit me, bringing back memories of sitting in the pew in high school, waiting for my turn at confession.

Nervous, sweaty-palmed memories of not wanting to tell the preacher just what dirty sexcapades I had gotten up to over the weekend.

Memories of taking my Hail Mary’s without complaint, only to never actually recite them.

Shaking the cloak of memories off, I hopped over to the altar.

After all, I hadn’t come for confession; I was here to light a candle just like I’d promised I would.

I reached for my handbag for a two-dollar donation, before realising that I hadn’t brought it with me.

Just my phone and the electronic room key in my back pocket.

I turned to Brad to beg for a loan, but he was already standing there with a wry grin on his face, a coin held out to me.

“My treat,” he whispered. I smiled at him and took the money, slipping it into the donation box and taking a candle.

Brad helped me kneel down in front of the altar, and then politely moved away so I could pray in peace.

I lit my candle from one of the other little stumps that were still burning there and sat it in among them.

God, first up, I really need to thank you for watching out for me in my quarter. I felt you with me during the match, I felt your strength supporting me.

I’m also really sorry, I made a promise and I broke it. I needed your guidance today and I couldn’t find it. I kind of feel like that’s probably a bit my own fault, really. And it’s made everything so much harder.

I’m going to need your help, to find the patience and the humility to mend this rift with Steve. I feel so awful that I let him down. I let me down too. And I let You down …

Now, I know that I don’t really have a right to be asking you for anything else right now. But … after last night – and I know you know what I’m talking about – there’s something that’s been playing on my mind. It’s not tennis related, promise …

I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes tighter shut, hoping that if I concentrated hard enough God really would pay attention.

Please, God, help me to find a guy. Not one who just thinks I’m hot and wants to screw me, but one who will take the time to get to know me, with all my crazy fucked-upness, and who can love all of me.

One who can help me to … to trust him, because after …

well, everything, I just really need some help with that.

Oh, and if you have time, can you give Joel Herbert genital herpes? If he hasn’t got them already that is. Thanks God.

Finished, I looked around, and Brad walked over and helped me up. “So, what do you want to do now you’ve got that off your chest?” he asked.

“Let’s get pizza and booze and have a night in.”

A few glasses of vodka and juice and several slices of pizza later, and I was feeling much better.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” I asked as I turned to Brad who was sitting on the floor beside the lounge, his head resting against my knee. The TV was on quietly in the background. Not on the tennis – I’d had enough tennis for one day.

Brad smiled at me. “Because you’re an athlete, Mel. You can’t eat and drink like this every night.” Oh Brad, always the voice of reason.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” I asked him.

“Because I have to drive back to my hotel soon,” he looked down at his watch, “Mel, it’s almost midnight.”

I shrugged. I didn’t feel very drunk, but I wondered how much my head would spin when I stood up.

“You could stay here tonight.”

Brad looked very deeply into my eyes and shook his head sadly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” I insisted. “I doubt Joel’s coming home tonight – you could sleep in his bed.”

Brad paused for a moment, then shook his head again.

“I can’t. It’s too …”

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Too what?” I demanded.

Brad refused to look at me. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. ”

I shrugged, reaching for the box of pain meds Joel had left on the coffee table. Brad snatched it away and glared angrily at me.

“Are you insane? No pain killers for you while you’re drinking!”

I grunted crossly. “If you say so, Dr Jacobs.”

Brad watched in silence as I poured myself another vodka and juice.

“I don’t think …” he began, his voice trailing uncertainly.

“That I should be drinking more? Well, I’ve got to numb the pain somehow.” I took a slug of my drink and winced; too much vodka. Brad, ever the intelligent one, took my cup and diluted it with more orange juice as he changed the subject.

“Mel, why d’you keep Steve on as your coach if he’s so horrible to you?” Brad took my hand and held on tight.

“He’s a great coach, Brad. He cares and he really wants me to succeed. He does have some … unique motivation methods,” I laughed blithely, “Like the other day he slapped me.”

Brad’s breath hissed through his teeth. “He hit you?” he asked, incredulous.

“Well, I was working up to a panic attack about the quarter-final at the time. He was just snapping me out of it.”

“By physically abusing you!” Brad’s face was thunderous. This conversation was totally souring my buzz.

“Brad, I’m really tired, I think it might be time to call it a night.” I sat up and screwed the cap back on the vodka.

Brad stood up, then looked back down at me. “D’you need help getting to bed?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. You get going. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

Brad leaned down to kiss me lightly on the cheek. “Any time, Mel. You know I’m always here for you.” Brad pushed a piece of hair out of my face. “Take care, Smellie.” His footsteps faded, then returned. I opened an eye, as he handed me a bottle of water.

“Time to hydrate now, I think,” he murmured. Before I had a chance to thank him he walked to the door, and I heard it snick quietly closed behind him.

I lay down, wondering if Steve planned on coming back tonight. I hated knowing he was mad at me, and he had every right to be. The apology was burning my throat. Or was that the vodka?

My phone beeped.

Brad: Hey Mel, ran into your coach in the foyer. He was about to throw down with Pete Levine, but security broke it up. Pete got into the lift, but Steve headed into the bar. Don’t expect him any time soon. Sleep well.

Well, there went my apologetic feelings. Steve had no right to be yelling at Pete – it wasn’t Pete’s fault that I’d played so badly! It was mine. He should have come up and screamed at me instead.

Clearly Steve had been drinking. He didn’t drink often, but a couple of times I’d seen him get very messy. I should go down and confront him before he started a brawl.

I struggled into an upright position, suddenly realising that I was a bit drunk too. Well, good. Nothing like a bit of Dutch Courage.

I picked up my crutches and lurched to the door, heading down the hallway towards the lift.

Inside, as my finger paused over the button that would take me down to the ground floor, the last slug of vodka hit me.

Squinting at the blurred number panel, I moved my finger and pressed another button instead.