Naked Hero - The Journey Away

single man, I’ll definitely look you up – if only for the one-night stand, because I just know it would be one hell of a treat.”
    Scott forced a smile – relief, regret, curiosity still there, but he knew that Lewis was right, and this was a good way to conclude the night and the Australian adventure. He needed time and he needed some distance – he needed Lewis as well, but not the complication. “You won’t say anything... sorry, of course you won’t. I know that... Probably time for me to go then – I’ll leave you to explain to Jim.”
    Scott rose. Lewis joined him. There was another embrace – a proper one this time: arms around backs, cheek to cheek. “I’ll be at Flushing Meadow,” said Scott as they hugged. “And even if you’re not single, come look me up. It would be good if we could still stay friends.”
    “It’s a date!” announced Lewis. “And friends are allowed to do this...”
    Finally they kissed. Then the American Idol went on his way.
    Scott had already left by the time Lewis came back into the house, ten minutes later. Chantal had wanted to go as well, but Marie had convinced her to stay. She had been deprived of drama the previous evening, and had no intensions of missing out now. Jim was the first to speak when the champion reappeared. “Scott’s gone back to his hotel - but I would imagine you were aware of that, Lewis.”
    “Aye, Jim,” he chirped in response. “He said he thought it was time to go. Is there any more of that champagne left? We’re celebrating, remember, so enough of the long faces.”
    Lewis helped himself to another flute before drawing a line under it all. “It wouldn’t have worked, Jim. The bigger picture, it wouldn’t have worked - just accept it. I have my reasons; and Scott’s in agreement… So I think you should just stay on, till Wimbledon at least. One last hurrah! What do you say? No dramas this time. I’ll give YOU the perfect day and then you can send me on my way and go and do your gardening, or whatever it is you’ve got planned.”
    Marie had sided over to Lee as Lewis was making his mini speech. “Oh dear!” she whispered to him. “I fear we are to blame - you much more than me, of course. I do hope you will make it up to him. I look forward to hearing all about your efforts. Now let’s have some more champagne, there is still cause to celebrate… would you not agree?”
    Lee had no idea – but one thing was for sure – the nature of this night had dramatically changed, and he didn’t feel in the slightest bit sorry.
    It was another hour before Chantal got her way and Marie agreed that it was time to go. She understood only too well that the final scene of tonight’s show must occur without her, so she made her farewells. As she hugged Lewis at the door before hitting the blaze of camera flashing outside, she gave him some parting words. “Enjoy your story, Lewis - and don’t worry about the ending. Some stories don’t have one. Good night, sweet prince, soon to be king.”
    As Lewis was seeing them out, Fiona announced that she was going to clear up then head off to bed. Lee gave her a hand. He had half-heartedly suggested that he should go along with the girls, but Fiona had insisted he stay for a little while longer, saving Lewis the bother of doing so himself. She was met with little resistance. Jim and Mike tactfully finished their drinks and bade them good night. Ten minutes later, Fiona did likewise.
    “You must be exhausted,” said Lee, once they were alone. “It’s been quite a day.”
    “I’m not tired, too excited I suppose. It’ll be weeks before I hit planet earth again. What about you?”
    “I’m okay just now. Late nights have never been a problem for me.”
    “Let’s go outside then, we can talk better there and not worry about keeping anyone awake.”
    “Sure, I’ll get my drink,” said Lee.
    “There’s one out there already for you.”
    They went out to the pool and Lewis sat down at the table in the same position as earlier - the half drunk whisky again beside him. Lee sat opposite him and looked at the other glass which was still untouched. A bolt of understanding zapped him. “I can’t drink that, Lewis. It’s not mine.”
    “It is now, there’s no one else here that’s going to drink it. Not now that I’ve put him away... So come on - we said we’d have a drink after the tournament, and whisky’s better than beer. It’s a single malt - the pride of Scotland: