Wildcard: Volume One

“Do you want some champagne?” Cierra dangles an empty glass in front of me.

“I’ll get it.” I laugh. She’s already half sloshed.

Piper pouts as though she’s disappointed I’m leaving, but to be honest my balls are aching like crazy. I need a moment to recover from Salli’s stellar blowjob.

I stand up and step out of the tub. My foot loses traction, and before I can even understand what the fuck is happening, I’m on my back, staring up at the sky. In the distance I can hear a woman screaming. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s me.

I’m screaming.

I’m screaming like a fucking chick. The pain is excruciating. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It is literally taking my breath away.

Suddenly, naked women surround me. Salli tries to help me sit up.

“Fuck,” I growl, falling back onto my side. It’s the only position that offers me any relief at all. This is not good.

“Should we call an ambulance?” someone asks.

“No,” I respond, gritting my teeth.

I’m not even sure the question was directed at me, but I can’t risk this getting out. Me being wheeled out of my hotel room on a stretcher is not keeping a low profile.

“I’m fine. I’m just in shock. Help me up.”

I’m almost ready to pass out as the girls lift me to my feet. It feels as if I’ve broken my back, and for a moment, I’m worried I might have. Then I realize if that were the case, I probably wouldn’t be moving at all.

It’s just a sprain. A few hours’ rest and I’ll be fine.

“I think you better go,” I mutter. I make it to the couch where I collapse, still breathless. By now, the room is spinning.

“Are you sure?” Salli looks worried as she touches my arm. “Can I get you some painkillers or something? You don’t look too good. Are you sure we shouldn’t be taking you to the hospital?”

“There is some Nurofen in my tennis bag. If you could get them for me and some water that would be great,” I say, grateful for her help.

She runs to my bag and gets the tablets, sitting them on the table next to me along with a bottle of water. With a final, uncertain glance back at me, she runs out of the room, hot on the heels of her friends. I can hear them dressing, and finally I hear the door slam shut.

Fuck. Now I can panic. Because I know there is something seriously fucking wrong. I reach for the Nurofen and laugh. I doubt all the fucking Nurofen in the world could kill this pain. I shift slightly and almost pass out from the pain.

I’m beginning to regret not letting them call an ambulance.

Chapter Four

I force my eyes open as I hear the creak of the door. Matt is standing in front of me, shaking his head. He looks angry, and I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d be pissed too.

It’s slowly coming back to me, but my memory is fuzzy. The girls from the club. Slipping over on the balcony. I remember calling Josh, but nothing after that until waking up in here a few hours ago.

I must’ve passed out.

“I know, I know,” I mutter, trying to ignore the pain throbbing through my lower back. It’s still so fucking intense. “You don’t need to say it.”

“I think I do.” He laughs and pulls a chair closer to the bed. “What the hell were you thinking? Oh wait, that’s right: you don’t think. You’re completely insane.”

“I didn’t know it was broken,” I grumble. I reach for my morphine button and press it. Relief surges through my veins. Fuck.

“Fuck, Ryder. All I can say is you’re lucky this happened now, and not at the start of the season.”

“Lucky?” I growl. I fail to see how this makes me lucky in any way. I’d forfeited the final of the French Open. My sponsors were going to kill me. On second thought, this whole disaster was probably great exposure for them.

“Oh, quit acting like you didn’t bring this on yourself. This is a PR fucking nightmare,” he says, running a hand through his silver hair. “You know the women you were with went straight to the papers? You need to start thinking with your head instead of your dick.”