The Proud Queen

Part 1. The tennis ball. Chapter 1.

Enrico

If there ever was the most stubborn person in the world, it was undoubtedly my grandfather.

Don Tito Valdi  in certain circles - where people had the honor of knowing him for many years - was considered a strong and, most importantly, determined person. Everyone knew that if he set a goal for himself, he would undoubtedly achieve it, no matter what. No life's hardships could prevent his desire and his determination to achieve his intended purpose. For this, he was loved and respected by many people, and I was sure that these were the same folk who were part of his close circle of acquaintances and who were not indifferent to his determination. Well, or it brought them certain privileges, because of which they began to extol his determination in praising odes dedicated to his indescribably beautiful personality. 

I was sure that these were the very people for whom Grandpa's determination played into their hands. It was tougher for those unfortunates who became the target of Nonno himself.

And this time, like many others, I was unlucky enough to become that very target.

Despite the fact that in "La Cabala" the music was deafening, threatening to tear someone's eardrums to shreds, and a certain drunk girl was slobbering on my neck, trying to get some kind of reaction out of me, all my attention was focused on the alternately flashing phone display. Even over the thundering rhythms of the music, I could almost hear the annoying trill – my nonno kept calling, and even fifty missed calls couldn't convince him that I just don't want to talk to him.

My vision doubled. Either it was from the alcohol I'd drunk, even though I was still looking at the very first shot of whiskey, which I still hadn't drained to the bottom, or it was just a chronic lack of sleep. I wasn't particularly sleepy right now, either. It was past ten PM, and knowing grandpa, he should have been snoring in his bed, having almost the tenth dream. He, as the most exemplary person of the old school, never gave up his daily regime, proving that he is not only an unimaginably purposeful guy, but also disciplined. Such a picture created an extremely pleasant and trusting image in the eyes of other people who did not know him. However, as someone who'd had the privilege of knowing him for all nineteen fucking years of his short life, I could tell that all of those incredible qualities were crashing against the wall of his stubbornness.

I don't know why he was up so late, and I was pretty sure he really was. My phone kept bursting with his calls, and the ringtone was getting on my nerves beyond imagining. I couldn't just turn off my phone. First of all, it was much calmer for my grandfather to realize that I simply didn't want to pick up the phone out of spite. A disconnected phone meant that something had happened to me. I could grumble at Nonno all I wanted, but his mental health was worth a lot to me. Besides, it was a kind of challenge – I didn't want to lose to him in this kind of battle, and I had to listen to this hateful sound over and over again.

What you will not do for the sake of victory!

I wanted to throw the gadget at the wall and watch it shatter into parts, but I was sure I would soon regret it. Since I didn't take family's money and lived like the most decent citizen, earning my daily bread by working hard and using my brains, valuing money has become one of the fundamental principles of my existence. I didn't beg. It was hardly possible to beg at all, managing to be the current Italian tennis champion. There was plenty of money, but it didn't drive me crazy enough to wave it around.

That is why I hastily abandoned the tempting idea of throwing the phone away, turning it upside down.

This was an even worse idea than ignoring calls – soon the flash camera function that had been set up earlier began to irritate as much as the melodic trill of the bell, blinding the eyes with its sharp flickers.