Chapter 27 #2
While I’ve been out this morning, I’ve received a lot of messages.
Too many. An absurdly unusual amount. And I know what that means.
I’ve been here before. No one is this popular.
You don’t get this many people messaging you unless you’re in the news.
At a glance, I can tell that a lot of the messages are people asking me if I’m all right.
Others are calling Chris Courtney a host of insulting names.
My chest feels tight as I open my web browser and google his name.
A list of fresh news stories appears. My fingers trembling, I click on the top one.
‘She pursued me and I was weak enough to give in.’
Exclusive extracts from Chris Courtney’s new memoir to be released in time for Christmas.
In the tennis star’s new memoirs, he details the challenges he’s faced and overcome in his extraordinary career.
In this candid and soul-baring book, Courtney takes us on the journey of his life, from the local tennis courts that offered him an escape from his parents’ embittered divorce as a child, to rising up the ranks and winning international championships, to meeting the woman who would save him from the empty clutches of fame and who he’d go on to marry, to one scandalous photograph of a misguided affair that threatened to destroy it all.
A raw and commendably honest account, Courtney leaves no stone unturned.
In this exclusive book excerpt, we’re treated to a glimpse into the mind of a broken man whose world explodes when his drunken kiss with fashion assistant Ashley Slater is exposed: ‘Ashley Slater is the kind of girl who, if you haven’t noticed her, she’ll make sure you do.
She’d made no secret of her desires from the moment we met and one night in the blurry haze of alcohol, I let my guard down.
That’s when she made her move. Let me take you back to my first meeting with Ren, a talented designer who
I feel too sick to read on, my hand trembling as I lower my phone.
‘Jules, I… I have to go back to the hotel. I don’t feel well,’ I say, my voice wavering as I gather up my things. ‘Is that okay?’
‘Sure, everything here is sorted.’ She frowns at me and I can understand her confusion seeing as moments ago, I was completely normal. ‘You all right? Maybe it’s too much sun.’
‘I need to lie down for a bit. I’ll see you later.’
My head in a whirl, I manage to get back to the hotel where I sit down on the edge of the bed and close my eyes to focus on deep breaths.
Oh my God. How could he do this? I know why he’s doing it: money.
A book like that coming out so quickly after the scandal is bound to sell well.
But to write such horrible, blatant and unnecessary lies about me.
To make out as though I was the predator and he the innocent prey.
Does he dislike me so much? Does he really think I deserve this?
Does he care what kind of impact this is going to have on my life?
A life I’d managed to piece back together after it fell apart just months ago?
As I begin to spiral, a voice in the back of my head speaks up: I won’t let him win.
I grip the edge of the bed in determination, like I’m clinging to a cliff edge I refuse to fall from. The people that matter will see through this. I won’t let a coward like him knock me down, I just won’t, not when I’ve come so far.
My phone vibrates relentlessly until I reach for it and see Mateo has tried calling.
He’s messaged, too:
Are you OK? Jules says you’ve gone back to hotel xx
My fingers hover over my screen. He tries calling again, but I can’t pick up.
If I speak to him, I’ll crack, I know I will.
And I don’t want to. Not quite yet. He rings off.
He’s been practising with the team this morning before the big event.
He hasn’t seen the story yet, but he will soon and then he’ll know why I had to get out of there.
He messages again:
Going into a meeting now with a team sponsor, then we’ve got the party. Will try calling later xx
As I try to think of what to reply to him, my phone continues to buzz in my hand as more people look at the news and gossip columns today. I feel overwhelmed and quickly reply to Mateo:
I’m fine, speak later xx
before turning off my phone.
Silence rings through the room. I go back to focusing on my breathing.
Collecting myself and needing something to do, I stand up and go run myself a bath.
It’s when I immerse myself in the comforting hot water that my strength buckles.
The tears spill down my cheeks and I let my face crumple as I tip my head back to rest it on the tub.
I wish Mateo were here. He’s who I need right now.
I need him to come here and tell me that everything is going to be okay.
When I’m out the bath, my head pounding from the heat and all the crying, I will myself to turn my phone back on. I’m hoping that he’s seen the story by now so I don’t have to tell him about it. But he must still be in his meeting as there’s no more messages from him.
My heart sinks. I turn on the TV to some rubbish and climb under my covers.
When Mateo finally messages, I read it twice to make sure I’m reading it right:
Just heard about the memoirs. Can’t believe it. I’m at the networking event and then I’ll come to you straight after xxx
I thought he’d come straight away. Why wouldn’t he come straight away?
Surely he knows how serious this is. How hurtful it is.
After everything, surely he knows. As more tears escape the corners of my eyes, I realise that he must know but he’s choosing to stay because this event is important to his career. And polo always comes first.
I tell him not to come over. I tell him I’d rather be on my own.
And later that afternoon, when someone posts a photo on our Maycourt Grooms WhatsApp group of the team on what looks like a massive yacht, I look at Mateo in the middle holding a drink in the sunshine, surrounded by players and a host of rich, important-looking people I don’t recognise, and I cry some more.