It wasn’t for me anymore. I lost faith in the officials to see what was right in front of them and in my fellow players for turning a blind eye when they saw a bruise or heard Colin shouting at me. Even my parents believed the Jinxed Jamie crap, going so far as joining in with stories from my childhood of me falling off swings and walking into doors. Stuff I did as a toddler for Christ’s sake. All they cared about was the money I brought in with every win, and even the losses netted me good money, which happened more than wins lately. Hence the bruised wrist from what I called, locker room discipline, courtesy of Colin, of course.
My ranking in the WATA had plummeted so much that the last tournament I competed in, I did so, on a wild card invitation only. Not making it past the second round of the last four tournaments meant harder work, longer practice, and more of Colin’s worsening temper. Miami was my last chance to improve myself, or I was out.
That sounded just fine to me since tennis didn’t hold the personal drive for me anymore. It was just a way for Colin and my parents to get richer. At the age of twenty-five, I supported them with my blood, sweat, and tears—literally. And I was tired of doing it.
I looked at Colin stalking towards me, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched so tight that I knew what was coming my way.
“Get the fuck in the locker room—now!” Colin roared at me, not caring that his outburst had gained a few interested spectators. Australia’s number one ranked player and her coach stared over at us. I pleaded with them with my eyes for help, for someone to say something, but all they did was turn their backs to us, leaving me to suffer for my insolence.
God, I hate tennis.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head at Colin, who had already reached my side of the net and grabbed my sore wrist. His large fingers closed around the bruised area, biting into the tender flesh, and pulled me roughly behind me.
“You are going to pay for disrespecting me like that in front of my peers,” Colin said with a hiss. He yanked me down the concrete tunnel, taking a different route than the one that led to the locker rooms.
Panic took hold, and I tried to pull my arm away from his tight grip.
“Where are we going, Colin? This isn’t the way to the locker rooms.”
“Oh, no, we aren’t going there. What I have in mind for you requires much more privacy,” Colin said, his voice creepier and more dangerous than usual.
Fear, like I had never known, gripped me like a vice. Frantically, I looked around for anyone who could help, but most of the players and coaches had already left for the day, and those who were left were still out on the practice courts.
“Colin, let me go now. If you don’t let me go, I will… I… will call the police,” I stammered, scared out of my mind that my stupid mouth had gotten the best of me and pushed Colin too far.
Colin laughed maniacally at my feeble threat. “Give me a break. As if anyone will believe Jinxed Jamie over one of the most successful and respected coaches in Australia. Well, I was until you started losing. Can’t even win a match in an exhibition tournament. Fuck, Jamie, you should have won that with one arm tied behind your back. The organisers were just as embarrassed as I was.”
I blanched at the mention of the celebrity tennis match I played in a few weeks ago. He was right. Once, I would have won easily, and I should have, but Colin stomped on my leg hours before the match, leaving me with a corked thigh and no way I could run to get to the net or the ball. He knew this, and yet he still punished me for it afterwards. Even though he caused me to lose, in his mind, it was all my fault. I was ruining his reputation, and his percentage of my winnings was down, but how could I play at a top level with injuries to my legs and wrists? It was impossible, but he didn’t care or else he would stop doing it.
Lost in my head, I hadn’t taken notice of where he was taking us, but upon seeing the sign for public men’s bathrooms, I screamed out in terror. Today was just a practice day, which meant no spectators and no one wanting to use the men’s room. All the players used the players’ restrooms. No one would hear me scream for help.
Yanking me hard, Colin pushed me against the swinging door. The impact of me hitting the door swung it open, and I fell inside.
“Colin, please—” Before I could say another word, a fist hit me hard on the side of my head.
“Shut the fuck up. Your losing streak is costing me a fucking fortune. I have to pay for my flight to Miami because you don’t have enough money in your account to cover it.” Another blow to the face sent me reeling against the bank of porcelain sinks, my hip taking much of the impact. There was not only searing pain radiating in my hip but the sound of my jaw breaking. I don’t know if I was more shocked by the fact I had no money in my account or that for the first time, he was punching me hard enough to break something.
Crying out in pain, I tried to focus on what Colin just said to me. I had no money? How could that be? Even losing games, I earned a decent pay cheque. The last second-round loss alone earned me over thirty thousand dollars.
“Of course, I have money,” I argued through gritted teeth, my jaw hurting with each spoken word.
“No, you don’t, idiot. I use your money to play the stock market. When you buy everything using the credit card I set up for you, you think you are using your money, but what you are really doing is running up a huge debt. I pay the monthly required minimum amount to keep the bank from sending out letters to you. The statements come to me, so you have no idea. You really are stupid, aren’t you, Jinx. So bloody trusting, and so fucking useless,” he spat at me, but I was stuck on the fact I was in debt.
How did I not know?
“You are stealing from me?” I asked incredulously, ignoring the use of my new nickname on the circuit. Even some of the commentators had referred to me in the same way, not giving a shit that it hurt and humiliated me.
An enraged roar left Colin’s mouth as he kicked his leg at me. Thinking quick, I darted to my left, falling to the ground, and instead of hitting me dead in the stomach, his booted foot made contact with one of the basins, smashing it into three large pieces.
“You are nothing but a fucking dead weight around my neck. I had the chance to be the coach of a world champion, and instead, you turned into a loser.”
“Are you serious? I played in the Olympic Games, and I won for God’s sake,” I shrieked at him, forgetting about my jaw and that it was probably broken.
“Four bloody years ago! Since then, nothing much, a few round fours and semifinals but no wins, no trophy or big prize money. Six months off with an injury that you should have bounced back from quicker but instead, you sat on your arse and got fat.” As he yelled at me, spit flying out of his mouth, his feet kicked me in the lower stomach and legs. Each time he made contact, I groaned with pain and fear. The unfairness of his verbal attack nearly hurt more than the physical ones. Players got injuries, which was an unfortunate part of the game. Tennis was a high impact sport, and injuries to the body, knees, elbows, ankles, and shoulders happened whether you liked it or not. No amount of training or preparation could stop them from happening.
“Now I have heat coming down on me because I can’t pay the brokers, and it is all your fault.” Bending down, Colin got close to me, his mouth twisted in an ugly scowl. “I am just about done with you, bitch. Your usefulness is now redundant, so I am going to leave you here beaten so badly that you won’t have any memory of how it happened or who did it. Your injuries will be so bad that your days of playing tennis will be over, and I will find another young superstar to train. After a decent amount of mourning time from losing my star client, of course.” The venom in which he delivered his promise gave me no option but to believe him.
Dejectedly, I flung my arm out in helplessness and hit one of the smaller pieces of the porcelain sink. Through my tears, I saw the promise of the pain Colin was about to inflict on me, and a sudden burst of fight rose from somewhere deep inside me. I was no longer going to be a victim of this arsehole. Just think
ing of Colin getting his hands on another poor unsuspecting girl made me want to hurl.
Wrapping my hand around the broken chunk, I dug deep inside myself and found the effort I needed to end the brutal beating before it came. I waited until Colin got down on one knee, his face close, then swung my arm up and struck him on the side of the head. The jagged piece was heavy enough to cause a deep gash to open on the side of his head and his ear. A loud grunt of pain expelled from his lips before his eyes rolled back in his head then closed as he dropped down beside me.
Oh, my God, I just killed a person. That was the first thing that went through my head as I eyed the lifeless body of my tormentor. Scrambling to my feet, I shoved his arm from near me with a hard kick.
“You absolute bastard,” I screamed at him. “Why did you have to do this to me?”
There was no answer from Colin. I had either killed him or knocked him unconscious, but I wasn’t going to hang around to find out which one.
Gingerly stepping over him, I made my way out of the bathroom as fast as my aching body would allow. All I had to do was make it back to my house in the outer suburbs then make a plan. My tennis days were over—that much I was sure of. Survival was now my only goal.
The sign that announced I was entering the city of Ballarat made me smile. Well, it was more of a wince. Two weeks ago, I fled the toilets where Colin had intended to beat me senseless, maybe even kill me. That night, I went back to my small but luxurious townhouse where I packed as much clothing as I could without looking like I had been there. I took my secret stash of money, bought a very used car with cash, and left Sydney for good. I couldn’t use my credit card or access my bank accounts, not if I wanted to stay hidden. From the start of my career, I kept an emergency fund of cash, never thinking I would actually need it for a real emergency. It started out more like a way to have the financial freedom to buy myself whatever I wanted when I wanted without asking for permission or justifying my purchase. Once, I told my mother I was going to buy a Louis Vuitton handbag, and the very next day, Colin forbade me from doing it. He said it would be a waste of money and totally not necessary, that buying more racquets or plane tickets would be a better use of my earnings. I asked my mother why she felt telling Colin was any of her business, especially when my money bought her an expensive designer bag for herself. I remembered her reproachful look as she sniffed snottily at me then refused to explain herself. She just walked away from me like she always had. From a young age, I knew my parents didn’t want me but were stuck with me. When Colin noticed my abilities with a racquet and ball, it didn’t take much to talk my parents into letting him coach me. They got rid of the day to day responsibilities of raising a child they didn’t want, and I got to see the world.
At first, it had been great, until—
Stopping my mind from conjuring up images and memories I’d rather forget, I steered my car through the pretty picturesque city. It was a relief to be off the back roads I’d forced myself to take through New South Wales and most of Victoria, the traffic flow nice for a change. For weeks, all I had seen were paddocks and kangaroos and lots of roadkill.
Travelling down the main Highway I found myself, twenty minutes later, in a small suburb called Lucas. I noticed that even though there were lots of newly built homes and estates, it surprisingly had a country feel to it. There were even dirt roads leading to lush, green paddocks filled with an array of animals. Being from the big city of Sydney, this was a real treat. I had deliberately chosen Victoria as a place to hide simply because no one, not my parents nor Colin, if he were still alive, would think for a second I would pick a cold place to run to. I hated the cold, like really hated it. I was a city girl through and through, and they knew it. My first thought was to go to Tasmania, the coldest place I could think of, but buying a ticket for the large boat that would take me there was too risky. Leaving a paper trail was too dangerous, and planes and boats required using a credit card, which would flag my whereabouts as soon as I used it.
No, this was much better and safer. Remaining anonymous was the key to my survival, but I did need to get a job, though, one that didn’t require a name search. The money I had left was a decent amount, but it wasn’t going to last forever, and once I found a place to live, there wouldn’t be much left at all.
Spying a small row of shops, I flicked on my blinker and parked in front of a cute bakery slash café. My glee at having something sweet and sugary to eat was enhanced when I saw a help wanted sign on the window.
This may just be your lucky day, Jamie Lawrence. Shaking my head, I gave myself a mental slap. No, I couldn’t use my real last name. Using my first name was bad enough, but I knew if I changed both my names, I would run into trouble. I could miss someone saying my new name or completely forget about it and unintentionally use my real name. It was better for my subterfuge if I went with Jamie and just changed my surname. I was now Jamie Barstow, a twenty-five-year-old from Perth, needing a breather from the heat, with no parents or family members, just me. The last part was basically true. I was an only child, as was my Dad, and Mum’s only living relative was Colin —at least, I think he was still alive. All four grandparents died before I was born, so it was just me. Mum and Dad obviously didn’t care since the papers I looked at on my travels down here didn’t have any articles on me or my disappearance, nor were there any desperate pleas in the paper from them for my whereabouts or my wellbeing.
I guess out of sight really is out of mind in their opinion, I thought sadly. I wasn’t surprised just… sad.
Putting the car in park, I turned the ignition off and groaned at the spluttering noise my engine made. A popping sound from the exhaust made me wonder how much longer the Lancer was going to last before it finally died, not that I could expect nine hundred dollars to get me much. I needed to find a mechanic so that the blasted thing kept going.
Grabbing my bag and keys, I unfolded my long legs out of the car, and while my hip was getting better, being in the cramped confines of the car meant it was taking longer than it should have.
Keeping my head down, I avoided making eye contact with the people walking on the footpath to the various stores. While in a small town in New South Wales, I bought a hair dye from a pharmacy. The dark auburn colour was in stark contrast to my natural blonde, but my high profile couldn’t be ignored. If I was going to fly under the radar, drastic measures other than changing my last name and making up a fake identity was needed.
Reaching the front door of the café, I pushed it opened and smiled at the tinkling from the old -fashioned bell heralding my arrival to the staff. This really was a different world than I was used to. You didn’t often come across quaintness like a bell on a door in Sydney. Oh, I was sure there was in some parts, but in the city, I hadn’t seen much of it, if any.
“Hey there, I won’t be a jiffy. Just gotta wrangle my monster of a boy into his pants—again,” I heard a sweet voice yell from somewhere behind the counter. It was a strange thing to say to a customer, but I laughed anyway.
“No rush. I will just take a seat and wait,” I called back. I saw a sign on a noticeboard for a house for rent, and the amount per week was doable even without a job. Smiling at my good luck, I entered the number in my new prepaid mobile phone then tucked it back into my jeans pocket.
Walking over to one of the small square tables dotted around the shopfront, I admired the weathered surface and the mismatched chairs. All of them had different coloured seat cushions, but it seemed to work. Each table held a jar filled with sugar, with a small antique spoon in it. Salt and pepper mills and wire napkin holders finished the décor arrangement of the tables—the napkins were real linen ones, beautiful soft greens and pale pinks.
I immediately fell in love with the interior of the café. It was shabby, chic, and inviting all at the same time.
Hearing the giggle of a child, I looked up and saw a beautiful young woman with the most amazing blonde hair and silver eyes smiling at me. But what surprised me the m
ost was the large toddler sitting on her hip. The woman looked like she was going to topple over from the weight of the little boy in her arms.
“Hello. I’m Lake, and this brute here is my monster son, Baylor. That is his given name, but we call him Bay,” the chirpy woman said by way of greeting. Her friendliness put me at ease at once, almost making me forget my reason for being here.
“Bay? Lake? Am I sensing a theme here?”
Lake laughed, and it was almost a tinkling sound one would expect a fairy to make.
“Definitely, yes. My brother is named River, and my sister is named Brooke. Our parents were fond of waterways and conceiving their children in them. Guess which one they picked when I was conceived.” Lake laughed along with me, and her son let out a loud childish giggle, too, though I was sure it was because we were laughing, not because he understood what was said.
“So he was…”
“Oh, no. I did not have sex in a bay. My parents died a few years back in a car accident. I thought it would be a nice way for them to be part of their grandson’s life by carrying on the naming tradition without the actual doing part. My husband chose Baylor to stop any questions in the future. School kids can be cruel at times, you know.” Lake looked at me as if I knew what she was saying, which I didn’t. My school days stopped at year seven when Colin arranged for a tutor to travel with me on the circuit. I missed out on the schoolyard bullies, thankfully, but I also missed out on the playground romances, the cool boy smiling at me and asking me out. Chasing the number one spot in the world of women’s tennis didn’t leave any time for falling in love. Well, not for me, anyway.
Nodding my head, I pretended to know what she meant.
“This is a lovely shop. I adore the décor and ambience you have created,” I praised Lake, deliberately changing the subject.
Lake smiled big, her eyes brightening to an unimaginable silver.
From The Inferno (Firemen Do It Better Book 3) Page 3
