Page 16 of Ace My Heart

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.

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