2 Scottie
2
Burn Alive – The Last Dinner Party
Jon Anderson settled himself into my mother’s plush couch, positioned directly across from me. Two steaming cups of tea sat on the coffee table divide, forced upon the American by my mother’s good English nature.
‘It’s good to see you, Scottie. You look well,’ Jon said, a warm smile forming faint lines on his face. He looked almost the same as he had two years ago, with the same friendly thin-lipped smile and sharp eyes, his skin now slightly weathered and darkened by countless hours standing outside watching players running across a court.
‘Thanks,’ was all I managed. From the moment I’d opened the door to my mum’s townhouse and found him standing on the quiet London street, my mind had been a rush of panicked questions, overwhelming me into an unusual silence.
‘Have you been in London long?’ my mother asked as she entered the stylishly decorated living room, placing a delicate plate of chocolate-covered biscuits between us, before sitting to my left.
‘A week or so. I’ve been working in Spain for a while.’
‘Oh, that explains the tan,’ she remarked with a warm smile. ‘Was it more coaching work?’
He leaned forward, perching himself on the edge of the sofa as he picked up a sugar cube and plotted it into the brewing liquid. ‘Yes, I’ve been working with Inés Costa since—’ He paused, as if realizing his words. When he continued, his revelation caught me off guard. ‘Since I was fired.’
‘Matteo fired you?’ I asked, my voice still quiet.
He nodded, his grim expression reflecting the gravity of the situation. ‘Just after you left.’
‘I’m sorry.’
A smile broke his stony demure. ‘Don’t be. I was about to quit when he did it. And because he terminated my contract early, I got full payment.’
I let out a brief, awkward laugh, feeling the tension in the room grow as the conversation settled upon us. The unease in my stomach intensified.
‘Listen, I know I said it before, but I promise, I didn’t know. I walked in on him crushing the pills for your smoothie, and I knew better than to trust that they were just supplements. I never would’ve done that without your permission. Hell, I would’ve quit if your training plan included a banned substance. All that hard work lost because of a blood test?’
I raised an eyebrow at Jon, just as he realized his wording. ‘Sorry, I … I was proud of you for stepping forward. It wasn’t you who cheated, but you paid the consequences, anyway.’
‘I figured the best way for payback was to make it all for nothing.’
‘It cost you everything, Scottie.’
My gaze fixed on my steaming cup of tea as I moved to pick it up, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within me. His words sunk in, and a sense of bitterness and regret crept into my voice.
‘It is what it is,’ I muttered, taking a long sip. Nothing like a strong brew to wash away the trauma.
Jon leaned forward, his fingers intertwining, ‘I don’t quite agree there …’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know your ban is up in a few weeks?’
‘So?’
‘So,’ his voice is light, full of a hope I feel so unfamiliar with, ‘now is the time to start training again.’
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, the disbelief I had at the idea. I placed the mug back on the table, barely able to get the words out fast enough. ‘I have no intention of training ever again.’
I was exhausted at the thought alone. That lifestyle was a million miles from my life now. Sure, I’d kept up my fitness with near daily gym visits and the odd escapade running through the streets of Rome with the Italian police at my back. I was a certain male pop star’s running companion for a while until I realized he couldn’t keep up. However, his short shorts did make up for it.
But that was nothing compared to training professionally. That took body, mind, and soul. I’d been able to commit to it before, but now I’d tasted freedom, and my soul wasn’t so sure it wanted to return.
Jon lowered his head, his eyes wide with shock. ‘What?’ the word stumbled out of his slackened mouth.
My back stiffened as I tapped into that white hot rage that lived inside of me. ‘I have no intention of ever stepping onto a tennis court again unless Matteo Rossi is trapped inside, and I have a tank of fuel in one hand and a lit match in the other.’
He took another sip of his tea as he made me wait for his response. ‘Well,’ he shrugged. ‘I think that’s a waste.’
I laughed. ‘Of what? Human organs?’
‘Of talent.’
‘I only won because I cheated,’ I reminded him, and beside me, my mother stiffened, her reaction reminding me of her presence. I looked over at her and found her brows crinkled with worry. When she noticed my gaze, she smiled weakly, a hand coming over to rest on mine and giving it a tight squeeze of comfort.
Jon coughed to clear his throat, before he continued, ‘I can assure you, Scottie, you can absolutely win without cheating. You could be one of the greatest in this sport, but somebody robbed you of the chance to see it. To prove that to yourself.’
While I was quiet, he continued. ‘I’ve been watching the others. Emilia, Inés – you must’ve seen she won the French Open. Even Dylan Bailey. They haven’t changed tactics in the last two years. All of your competitors, playing the same way, the same old tricks. You were the one who caught them out, saw their plays before they could take advantage of you. You knew how to wear them down. How to trap them. That’s how you got to the finals, and I know, with training, good honest training, you could do it again.’
I closed my eyes, shielding myself from his praise. I didn’t need to hear how good I once was. It all counted for nothing. ‘I-I can’t go back.’
‘Why not?’
‘Nobody will trust me.’ Cheat. ‘They’ll say it’s all drugs.’ Cheat.
All I could think of was how they would look at me with whispered snide remarks, judging for what had happened to me, thinking I was the culprit instead of the victim. They’d think I’d brought it on myself.
Cheat
He shook his head, eyes filled with determination. ‘We will prove them wrong. The ITIA will test you to within an inch of your life, anyway.’
He was right. They’d suck me dry like a vampire.
‘I’m too out of practice; there’s no way I can catch up.’
Jon shrugged my concerns away. ‘All the more reason to start as soon as we can. It’s a challenge, but people have come back from worse.’
I rubbed my clammy palms along the denim of my jeans, trying to soothe the rising nerves. I hadn’t dared let myself wonder what I’d do when my ban was up. Part of me thought nobody would care anymore. They all had me labelled as a cheat. Besides, with the way the tabloids had reported on my every single move the past few months, my reputation was in near tatters. That was what I’d wanted, what I’d needed for revenge. To reclaim everything from the person who had stolen it.
‘I-I can’t win. Matteo … he will—’ I stuttered, the chaos of my mind erupting out of my mouth. Mum’s hand squeezed around mine once again.
I hadn’t realized Jon had gotten up until he sat down next to me, the couch dipping under his weight. Even sitting down, he towered over me. I was tall myself, long-legged like my mum, but closing in at six-foot-eight, Jon was a certified giant.
‘Matteo thought you couldn’t win on your own. Prove him wrong. Prove yourself better than he ever was,’ Jon said, his arm wrapped around the back of the couch to face me. I could see fire and resolve burning in his eyes, the very same that I used to have.
That was what it took to win. You had to be prepared to fight for every strike. Meanwhile, I still felt the weariness in my bones, the fear of losing it all again. If I was going to do this, I had to turn fear into fight. Turn anger into ambition.
And it had to be enough to fuel me.
Jon’s smile turned crooked as he changed tactics. ‘And if it’s revenge you’re looking for …’
I hesitated, something flickering inside. The strike of a match. ‘Yes?’
A wide grin stretched across his lips, like a hunter realizing its prey has fallen into a perfectly laid trap. ‘Then I have the perfect doubles partner in mind for you.’