Free Naked Hero - The Journey Away by J. K. Brighton

acknowledge the potential reality of the discussion. “There’s the boy from France who beat you in Rome last year. Of course that was on clay, but he’s been threatening to break through on hard courts as well.”
    “I remember him… And I’ll look forward to beating him if he manages to get there. That boy’s got it coming... And the quarters?”
    “It has to be Gonzales: he’s seeded two, and he’s got an easy draw up to there.”
    Lewis drew in a breath then slowly let it out. He was less pleased with this piece of news. “Well he’s going to cave in for nobody, especially me… That’s the one, Jim... I need to be ready for then.”
    “Let’s worry about getting there first, and then we’ll think about Gonzales.”
    “No! We think about him now. I’ve never beaten the boy, so get your brain in gear and sort it out. I’ll worry about the rest. There’s nobody up till then that I can’t handle with my normal game, maybe with a wee bit of tweaking as you say. But that nippy beggar is going to need a lot more thought.” Lewis sat back and raised his voice again. “Anyway, so let’s assume we get passed him. What next?”
    “The semis’ a bit of a lottery - could be one of three. It depends on the form and if the rain comes.”
    “Well, let’s hope it stays dry, because if not, I’ve got my own problems, especially if they decide to put me in a glass dome. Those fancy retractable roofs are not to my liking in the slightest.”
    “Aye, we need the weather with us, but the forecast’s good,” declared Jim who had studied that as well.
    “So who’s the likely punter in the semis’, if it stays dry?”
    “Livyenko, I’d say.”
    “He’s doable as well… So then it’s Tommy Jackson in the final, eh?”
    “You’re looking too far ahead,” said Jim as he stood up and stretched - a job well done, “but aye… who else would you expect other than the world’s top ranked player?”
    Lewis smiled. The old bugger usually referred to Jackson as ‘the world’s best player’. Perhaps a corner had finally been turned and the damage that had been done was on the way to being repaired.

Chapter 9
    The telephone call came an hour later, when Lewis was lounging on the couch watching television.
    “I’ll get it!” said Fiona, walking towards the phone. “Oh hello, Mary,” she announced having picked up the receiver, talking loudly enough so Lewis would hear. “Aye, we’ve just finished dinner. You’ll not be long up yourself… How are things? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that... It’ll all calm down in time... Yes, Mary, I know… yes, Mary… Erm, hold on a minute and I’ll see if he’s around.”
    Lewis hadn’t moved from the couch, although he had been severely tempted. But he knew he had to face the music at some point and now would be as good as any. He gave a nod of his head and Fiona brought the portable handset over to him.
    “Your mum,” she said.
    With a grimace the phone was accepted. “Hello, Mum, how are things with you?”
    That was all he needed to say, the rest of the conversation w as a one-sided affair from there on in – a practiced sermon based on the Catholic Faith Mrs. Macleod fervently embraced and had at one point forced on her son. Lewis had no desire to say anything anyway. He half listened, more to ensure that the occasional “ah ha” or “sure” came at the right moment, rather than through any real interest in what was being said. He had heard it all before - the main thrust of it anyway, the details were irrelevant. After five minutes of her ranting about fire and damnation he had endured enough and interrupted her diatribe.
    “Well, thanks for calling, Mum. It’s been a real treat. Are there any more supportive messages you’ve got for me before I hand you back to Fiona? ...No, I didn’t think so. Goodbye then.”
    The handset was left on the couch for Fiona to retrieve. Lewis heard her attempt to calm his mother down as he stormed towards his