The Other Side

*****

The next two weeks passed in a blur for Mark. Henson had completely knocked him off-course and now he was wandering aimlessly trying to figure out what he should be doing. He was getting old; he wanted to get out there and prove that he wasn’t old, that he could keep up with the younger crowd.

Now he was regretting it badly.

Two weeks of partying every night, drinking heavily and smoking weed had taken an effect on Mark. His body was reacting to it and it wasn’t good. He had put on ten pounds and nearly failed two random drugs tests. The drinking was also making him sluggish so his performance at training was going downhill and Stephen was in despair.

Mark knew he needed to stop. But he didn’t know how. There wasn’t really anything in his life to stop him and get him focused. Even the love for his sport was beginning to dwindle. It wouldn’t hold him on the right path and get him clean anytime soon.

Something big had to happen to do that.

But when Mark stumbled onto the porch overlooking the courts one morning, he still had no idea what that big something would be.

Stephen was standing by the rail watching the rallies. He turned when Mark approached and scowled.

“Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here nearly two hours ago.”

Mark winced. His brain had been fuzzy and he hadn’t thought to call Stephen to say he was going to be late. Now Henson was on the court they had planned on commandeering first thing, hitting the balls back to his coach in a way that seemed far too easy for him.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet, feeling like a teenager who had missed curfew. “Lost track of time.”

“You mean you’ve lost track of your senses.” Stephen grunted. He turned to his friend and gave him a worried look. “What the fu*k has happened to you, Mark? You’ve been going off the rails for the last two weeks. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m having a good time. Am I not allowed that?”

“Not to the extent you’re doing it. You’re going to end up with an STD, organ damage or, worst case, dead.” Stephen shook his head. “What’s the matter with you?”

Mark shuffled from foot to foot. Stephen had been his friend for years and they were close. Or rather, they had been until the last two weeks. Mark had shut Stephen out, refusing to go to counseling to help with the mental stress and turning his phone off when he went out. Stephen was getting frustrated and if the situation was reversed Mark would be feeling exactly the same right now.

He rubbed at his eyes, which were stinging from lack of sleep.

“I’m trying to prove to some people that I’m not old. That I’ve still got it in me.”

“We all know that you’ve still got it.” Stephen protested. “You don’t have to burn so many brain cells in the process.”

Mark winced as Stephen’s voice rose. He had chugged down a bottle of whiskey the night before and then had passed out on the couch. His head still felt like he was swimming through sludge.

“It’s proving that I can still keep up with the youngsters.”

Stephen grunted. He clearly didn’t agree.

“Well, now you’ve decided to act like a sh*t, you’re going to have to wait.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the closest court where Henson was. “There’s a forty-five minute slot after Henson’s had his workout and I want to make the most of it. We’re on in fifteen minutes.”

Mark nodded, watching as Henson practiced his serves. They were fast, too fast for him to see, and they all bounced in the same part of the court on the opposite side. His serves were the best. Mark had been caught off-guard many times with that serve. And Henson made sure he never forgot it.

Turning away with a growl, Mark’s gaze drifted across the porch, looking over the people who were nearby. Several wore tennis outfits and were sitting at tables with cups of coffee and talking, the sun radiating onto the porch. A few people were taking advantage of the warmth and were lying on sun loungers on the lawn below him. Everyone was going about their business and didn’t seem to notice what was going on around them.

Except for one. An African-American girl in her twenties was sitting at a table near the steps down to the path, a cup of something in her cupped hands. She was watching the tennis, her gaze seeming to be focused on Henson.

Mark felt like he had been hit in the chest. She was lovely. She had long hair – really long – tied into a French plait down her back, kept away from a face looking to be devoid of makeup. She wasn’t slim but she wasn’t fat, either. Somewhere nicely in the middle. And the bright pink summer dress and strappy heels she wore looked good on her, especially around her slightly bigger bre*sts.

Mark felt his co*k waking up from its own stupor. He coughed and shifted.

“Who’s that?” He nudged Stephen.

“Who?”

“The woman over there?” Mark pointed at her. “Wearing the bright pink dress with the big boobs?”

Stephen looked over, peering over his sunglasses.

“That’s Charli Fraser. She’s Henson’s girlfriend. Good kid. Why?”

“Just wondering.” A plan was beginning to form in Mark’s mind. He put his bag beside Stephen and clapped him on the shoulder as he moved away. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

If Henson was planning on playing mind games and screwing up his game play, then Mark was going to play mind games on him. And Charli Fraser was going to help him, whether she knew it or not.

*****

“Mind if I join you?”

Charli looked up and saw Mark Hildenstern standing beside her table, a polite yet charming smile on his face. She felt her breath hitch when she saw him. Tall – more like huge – and towering over her, carrying a slim but muscular frame with his blond hair tousled over his forehead, he looked a sight to behold. Seeing him at a distance or on the television didn’t compare to being this close to him; the man was devastatingly handsome.