Chapter 2
AMPELOKIPOI, ATHENS, GREECE
‘No more, Vasili,’ Konstantinos Petsas said, holding his hands up in surrender to the child bouncing the basketball on the concrete.
It was so hot today, humid and intense in this searing city he called home.
But Vasilis and his friend, Panagioths, seemed to have more than enough energy, despite the melting temperatures on this basketball court that had definitely seen better days.
The white markings had eroded, the baskets had no netting and the fence that enclosed the whole area had more holes than a golf course.
But it was a much-needed open space for activity amid the building-saturated streets.
‘He is old now, Vasili,’ Panagioths stated, shaking his dark head of hair.
‘Hey!’ Kostas exclaimed.
‘Not old,’ Vasilis answered. ‘But… he still has his injury. Is it your Achilles making you slow?’
His Achilles. How ironic that the injury that had put paid to his professional basketball career was the tendon named after a Greek warrior.
It had snapped, in the middle of one of the most important games for his team.
He had worked hard after the repair, intensive rehab and exercises he still did now, he had listened to advice, taken time before coming back.
Then, an incident on the street late one night and it had been damaged again.
Worse. Despite putting in double the work, more determined than ever, he was never quite the same athlete and his club eventually decided there would be no next chance.
‘Slow? You think I cannot beat you?’ Kostas asked the children, starting to bob and weave in front of them, trainers sliding back and forth on the cement.
‘He is still like a cat,’ Panagioths stated, eyes wide, as if in awe.
‘You cannot beat me,’ Vasilis said, bouncing the ball a little harder, a little faster.
Kostas smiled. ‘Is that so?’ He jerked his six-foot-three frame forward into the boy’s space, making him flinch. And then, the second he was distracted, he pinched the ball, turned and pelted up the court towards the basket.
Panagioths laughed hard. ‘You will never catch him, Vasili.’
Kostas heard the thudding steps of his pursuer bearing down on him, but he kept focussed just like he had done in every one of his games for club and country. Block out anything else except him and the ball. He leapt, rose up and slam-dunked before Vasilis could get anywhere near close.
Panagioths cheered and clapped his hands. ‘Like lightning from Thor!’
Kostas held a hand in the air to high-five Vasilis but the boy was looking at him with a furious expression.
‘You had a head start,’ Vasilis stated, folding his arms across his chest.
‘You lost your concentration, Vasili,’ Kostas explained. ‘In basketball it is all about sensing your opponent, outsmarting them. You do not necessarily have to be the fastest or the most skilful, remember that.’
‘So,’ Panagioths said, reaching them at last. ‘You are saying that you must not be stupid.’
‘Shut up, Panagioth!’ Vasilis ordered.
‘Hey,’ Kostas said, putting a firm hand on the grumpy boy’s shoulder. ‘It is only a game.’
Kostas swallowed, thinking about the sentence he had just said.
It is only a game. He’d never thought that.
Not even when he was Vasilis’s age. It had been everything to him, his vocation, his whole life, the focus he had always had no matter what else was going on around him.
But, apparently, it was important to keep perspective. He was still trying to learn that.
‘And I am good at this game!’ was Vasilis’s reply. ‘Usually.’
‘You are good at this game,’ Kostas reassured. He looked to Panagioths next. ‘You are also good at this game. But remember what a game is, that is all I am saying.’
‘A chance to be better than everyone else. To win,’ Vasilis said without hesitation.
‘No,’ Panagioths said. ‘It is a chance to escape the apartment when your mother tells you to clean your bedroom.’
‘Vasili,’ Kostas said seriously. ‘Winning, it is only part of the game, trust me. And there are different ways to win. Sometimes it is not immediate, sometimes the best victories can take time.’
‘But winning is the only part that everyone remembers,’ Vasilis stated.
‘No,’ Kostas said firmly, putting a hand on Vasilis’s other shoulder.
‘That is definitely not true. Sometimes the things people remember are the hard times, the struggles and that desire to rise that carries you through to the next moment. The game, it can be anything you want it to be. It is up to you to decide how you use it.’
‘And,’ Panagioths said, ‘if you struggle, Vasili, I will carry you up the stairs to your apartment.’
Vasilis snorted. ‘You struggle to carry your own bag for school!’
Kostas’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Again. He had ignored all the vibrations since he had woken up, had needed to clear his head here at the court, and then the kids had arrived. The phone vibrated again. Then again.
‘It sounds like you have mosquitos in your pockets,’ Panagioths quipped.
Kostas suspected that mosquitos would be easier to get rid of.
‘One more game?’ Vasilis begged, palms together in prayer.
Kostas checked his watch – a designer gift from a former sponsor. He didn’t really have the time but then his phone sounded again and it reminded him of everything he was so far avoiding this morning.
‘OK,’ he said to the boys. ‘One more game but, let me check my phone first.’
Panagioths grabbed the ball and went sprinting up the court with it, Vasilis in hot pursuit. Kostas took out his phone.
Tinder – 4 new matches.
Instagram – 13 notifications.
WhatsApp – too many to count.
Emails – plenty, but there was one that caught his attention.
The subject was ‘revised plan’ and it was from Stathis, his business adviser, and, already, as the PDF loaded, Kostas was feeling that prickle of anticipation, not quite the kind he used to get before a big match but, as those days were gone, it was a secondary high.
And then the document opened and he was looking at the plan he had personally envisaged.
A hotel and spa complex to rival the best in the world.
Nothing overlooked, every detail thought through, the epitome of a luxury escape for those rich enough to afford it.
And now, in this latest revision, there was a much bigger marina, room to berth a superyacht or two…
He read the notes and scanned Stathis’s suggestions, but there were a few parts sticking that he did not like at all. Maybe another island would be more suitable. Concern about the wildlife. One of the hotels was very much in the way. Potential problems.
He didn’t want to read any more. He closed the email down and took a deep breath.
There was no other island in his plan. This had to happen in Corfu.
Kerkyra. And tomorrow he would be there to start the ball rolling.
He checked his watch again. But perhaps, if he could get out of the meeting he never really wanted this afternoon, was there any reason to wait?
‘Kosta!’ Vasilis yelled.
‘Ne!’ he shouted back, waving a hand. ‘éla! I am coming!’