“I’ve been watching his matches on the television,” I said. “He looks great but he’s not having any fun. Not one ’tweener.”
“He’s smiling now,” Jason said. “I feel the tables are about to be turned.”
I nodded and bit my lip nervously. I’d watched Kai trade aces with other players the entire tournament. He had the best serve in all of professional tennis in my humble opinion, and just then he proved it by serving Brad a 139-mph ace, tying the score.
Then with a mischievous grin on his face and a wink in my direction, Kai wound up for another ace and instead dropped the ball. Before it hit the ground, he popped it over the net in an easy underhand serve. Brad raced like hell to get it, but it dropped on his side and bounced twice before he could touch it.
The crowd cheered, and the sound seemed to fill Kai up like fuel. His smile was so damn beautiful, it could’ve broken my heart except that he was so happy.
“30-15,” the chair umpire said into the microphone.
Brad glared daggers at Kai, but Kai only chuckled and took his position for another serve. Now Brad didn’t know what to do—stand far back for another potential ace or be prepared to race the net for a wimpy underhand? Kai didn’t give him much time to decide. Without even bouncing the ball in preparation, he tossed it up in the air and slammed an ace.
“40-15.”
The crowd cheered wildly and so did I.
“That’s my son,” Antonia Solomon said over the noise, her smile wide and proud.
That’s my man…
After Kai left for Melbourne, I’d gone back to my little home in Paia and spent the first night alone, the light on and Keanu by my side. I’d watched every single one of Kai’s matches, but the fact that he was doing his best and winning and keeping his temper under control made me feel like a failure. Like I wasn’t upholding my end of a bargain to tame my own demons.
“Trauma is not something you can talk yourself out of,” Melanie had told me on the phone from Oahu when I went back to work. “It’s something you have to contend with on a day-to-day basis. Self-care doesn’t mean being selfish. What feels right for you is the only thing that matters.”
Do what feels right.
That had been my mantra, but it had become more and more apparent that staying in Paia instead of being with Kai didn’t feel right at all.
With Melanie’s blessing for more time off, I used some of the money Jason had given me and bought a plane ticket to Melbourne. Just me. I left Keanu in the responsible hands of my neighbor and embarked on a ten-hour flight into the unknown.
It was the right thing to do, I thought, watching Kai play under the brilliant Australian sun. I’d worry about the night later.
“Game, Solomon,” the empire said after Kai slammed another ace down Brad’s throat.
“One down, eighteen to go.” Jason laughed nervously.
Kai was playing his best, but Brad Finn wasn’t ranked number four for nothing. Over the next hour, the two players battled ferociously. But the Australian crowd was firmly in Kai’s court, so to speak. Not only because he was their hometown hero, but because he was playing like the superstar he was. Kai peppered his plays with ’tweeners, no-look shots, and did a spinning jumpshot on a lob that had the crowd on its feet. By the end of the set, they were tied five games apiece.
Kai was having the time of his life and that’s all that mattered to me.
The match wore on until finally the men were tied up, two sets apiece. The last set would determine the winner of the Australian Open.
I looked over at Jason whose hands were folded calmly in his lap while his leg was bouncing up and down.
“He’s got this,” I said, though Jason’s nervousness jumped from him to me like an electric current. “Right? I mean, he’s come this far.”
I looked over to see Antonia dabbing her eyes. “I’m so proud. No matter what happens, I’m so proud and I know his father would be too.”
The crowd quieted, and we watched as Kai, on the court right in front of us, crouch down, ready for Brad’s serve. Even in that moment, I couldn’t help but admire Kai’s physique—his long legs and his brown skin over muscles stretched taut and ready. How he flipped his racket around and around in his hand, waiting for the serve. And when it came, Kai sprang into action, shooting his right hand out for a forehand bounce that sent the ball back with a winner.
Brad fumed. And the more pissed off he got, the calmer Kai became. As if only one of them were allowed to be pissed off at the same time. Kai won the game, and Jason was practically jumping in his seat. Kai’s serve.
A ball boy brought Kai a towel; his shirt was clinging to him with sweat. While he wiped his face, the ball boy placed three balls on Kai’s outstretched racket. Kai examined them in a ritual I never fully understood, since all tennis balls look the same to me. He discarded one, put one in his pocket and bounced another. The serve clock was ticking down its 25 seconds and Kai wasn’t paying attention. It got to zero before he threw the ball up, and the umpire—a middle-aged woman with blond hair—leaned in her chair to the mic.
“Time delay and third violation, Solomon. Game penalty. The score is now one game apiece.”
The crowd erupted in boos and hisses. I stared, open-mouthed, as Kai argued with the umpire, gesturing at the timer.
“I just needed a towel,” I heard him say. “I don’t have time to towel off? It’s a bloody oven out here. We don’t have a big cozy umbrella to sit under like you, mate.”
“Shut up shut up shut up,” Jason muttered under his breath. “If the ump gets sick of Kai bitching at her, this is it. This is the game.”
“Kai won’t let that happen.”
“We can only hope. And umpires don’t like to insert themselves in important matches like this, but I don’t know this gal. She could have a short temper herself.”
I looked at Kai and silently willed him to let it go. But my man was a notorious potty mouth; one audible obscenity and it was all over. I held my breath. The crowd held its breath. Antonia pressed her hands to her lips, and I wished I could do the same to Kai.
A few tense seconds passed, and finally, Kai shook his head, muttered something under his breath—not loud enough for anyone to hear—and whacked the ball he’d been about to serve across the court.
Jason sagged against his seat. “Oh, thank God.” He clapped his hands together. “That’s it, Kai! You got this!”
I cheered too, and the crowd joined in. Kai was glowering, shaking his head, tugging at the collar of his shirt, but said nothing else. He dutifully crouched in position for Brad’s serve.
Brad wore a smug smile of satisfaction, calm and collected while Kai was now the one on edge. Before we knew it, it was 40-love. Kai raised his racket as if he were about to smash it on the ground.
Oh shit…
Instead, he gave it a harmless swing through empty air and took up his position at the service line. Brad aced him and now he was up two games to one.
“It’s Kai’s show now,” Jason said. “If he can ace his way through this game, we’ll be back on track.”
For the next fifteen minutes, the men battled back and forth, neither gaining an advantage nor breaking the other’s serve.
Finally, the set was tied, 6-6, forcing a tiebreak.
“Oh, God, what does this mean?” I asked.
“It means the usual scoring is out the window. First person to seven points wins but must win by two. Whoever wins the tiebreak, wins the Open.”
“Right. Sure. No problem.” I steepled my fingers over my nose and leaned forward, watching with nerves tangling in my guts.
Kai’s serve. He looked more focused and determined than I’d ever seen him. Serious. No ’tweeners or no-looks coming. He was playing for keeps.
His back arched gracefully, the ball went up, and his racket whipped down. The ball zipped past Brad who made a lunge for it and missed.
“1-love, Solomon,” the ump said.
“Good. Okay. Tha
t’s good,” Jason said as the players switched sides of the court. “But Brad now has two serves.”
I swallowed hard, eyes on Kai.
Brad’s serve. He wiped his brow with his wrist band, then delivered a stinging serve. Kai got his racket on it, and a rally ensued, both men sending shots to the other’s forehand diagonally across the court. Back and forth until finally Kai, with a yell, slammed the ball with extra force…
…where it whapped the net.
“Don’t say anything,” Jason intoned to Kai, watching him mentally wrestle with the error. “Not a word, Kai…”
“1-all,” the ump said.
We all breathed a sigh as Kai managed to keep his mouth shut and readied for another serve. Brad lobbed it over, and Kai gave it a wild swing that sent the ball out.
“Out!” a judge yelled, as if we couldn’t see that for ourselves.
“2-1, Finn,” the ump said.
“I officially hate tiebreaks,” I said as Kai and Brad switched sides again.
“Me too—” Jason’s words cut off. “Oh fuck. Did you see that? No, Kai, please…”
Because I couldn’t take my eyes off of Kai if you paid me, I had seen it. On the changeover, Brad muttered something to Kai and Kai stopped, a muscle ticking in his jaw, his knuckles white around his racket.
“This could be it,” Jason said, and Antonia slipped her hand in his. “Brad said something horrible and Kai is going to lose it.”
But Kai tilted his chin up, found us in the crowd, and sucked in a breath. He continued on to his side for his serve game.
“Atta boy, Kai,” Jason muttered, and even submerged in a cloud of tension, I couldn’t help but smile at his pride, still clutching Antonia’s hand.
Like proud parents. We’re all rooting for you, love, I mentally sent to Kai. No matter what happens.
But Kai couldn’t make anything happen and suddenly the umpire was intoning, like a death sentence, “5-1, Finn.”
Two more points for Brad and it was over.
Jason held his face in his hands, but I jumped to my feet and realized the crowd had too. The entire stadium cheered and hollered for Kai.
“Please,” the umpire said in her calm voice, the tennis-equivalent of telling everyone to sit down and shut the hell up.
It took a few minutes but finally everyone settled down to watch Kai serve.
Come on, babe. You got this.
Kai put his body through the graceful, powerful motions, and the ball hit the centerline where Brad tried for it but couldn’t touch it.
“5-2, Finn.”
Kai served again; the ball hit the net for a fault. His face blank, he tried again. Ace.
“Who aces on a second serve?” Jason asked, laughing. “No one. Kai. That’s it.”
Now it was 5-3 and Brad’s serve. Kai returned, and again they fell into a rally that lasted shot after shot after shot.
With each successful hit, the crowd grew louder and louder until we were all on our feet. Kai was speed and grace on the court, racing for every ball, hitting with power and precision, and soon he was forcing Brad all over the court while he stayed relatively centered.
Brad stayed with him for nearly seventeen shots until his last hit the net and the crowd erupted.
“5-4, Finn,” the ump said while Antonia and I jumped up and down and took turns hugging and jostling Jason between us.
The ump got the crowd quiet, and Kai readied for Brad’s next serve. It was then I noticed the change in Kai. His expression wasn’t shut down in anger anymore but looked on the verge of smiling. He was two points away from Brad winning the Open, but he suddenly looked relaxed. Easy. He twisted his racket around and around, danced from foot to foot, focused but not tense.
Brad’s serve was a monster, but Kai got his racket on it. Brad hit back, a high, arcing shot that sailed over Kai’s head.
Kai raced for it; the ball bounced right at the baseline, and there was no time for him to position himself to get in front of it. Instead, he made a leaping shot, legs spread, and hit a backward ’tweener.
The crowd roared as somehow that shot landed true. Brad slammed it back, but he was rattled, and the ball hit the net. The stadium was deafening and grew louder as Kai, beaming now, raised his hands over and over, encouraging them to a frenzy.
“5-all.”
“This is happening. Is this happening?” Jason asked.
I had no answer, but we all held our breath again for Kai’s serve. Brad returned weakly and then Kai—that crazy bastard—looked right at me instead of at the ball and hit a no-look winner.
“6-5, Solomon,” said the ump.
“Sweet Jesus,” Jason said under the roars of the crowd. “Did he just…? Why?”
I was laughing and clapping and nodding, tears stinging my eyes. “He’s loving the game.”
Indeed, Kai was smiling wide, clearly enjoying himself. He pointed at one exuberant fan in the crowd, and while the serve clock was ticking, audibly asked her where to put his next serve.
“To his backhand?” Kai asked.
“Ace it,” the woman said.
Kai tipped his racket to her and took up position. The serve clock had three seconds and my heart was trying to crawl out of my chest. With one second to spare, Kai got the serve off.
It wasn’t an ace—Brad returned it with a ferocious, determined grunt. Kai hit back—hard—and looked as if he were aiming for Brad’s face. Brad got his racket up and his shot went straight up in the air.
“This is it,” Jason intoned, clutching my hand in his right, Antonia’s in his left. “Come on, no messing around, Kai.”
But Kai being Kai, he ran at the lob, leaped into the air and—like one of Michael Jordan’s slam dunks—made a spread-eagle as he and slammed the ball home.
“Game, set, match, Mr. Solomon.”
Fifteen thousand people were on their feet, and a roar rolled through them as Sikai Solomon came back from a deficit of five points to win the Australian Open in his hometown.
Somewhere behind him, Brad smashed his racket on the ground, denting it beyond repair. But my eyes were locked on Kai who was racing to the box.
He climbed up into the box and hugged his mom who kissed him on both cheeks, tears staining her own. “Your dad is so proud of you,” she said around the roars of the crowd and amid a sea of cameramen who’d suddenly surrounded us. “Right now. This moment. He is watching and he is so proud.”
Tears streamed down my own cheeks to see Kai’s dark brown eyes shine as he hugged his mom tight. He moved on to Jason, and the two men locked eyes for a moment. Jason’s hand came up to pat Kai on the cheek and then I nearly lost it as Kai gritted out, “Thank you. Thank you, Jase. For everything.”
Then it was my turn. Kai turned to me, grabbed me in a hug that lifted me off my feet, and held me close. Kai’s body was hot and sweaty, and I clutched him tight until he set me down to kiss me. The crowd’s applause swelled, but he put his forehead to mine and we somehow shut the world out.
“You did it,” I said. “How…? I just can’t imagine the pressure of being down 5-1.”
“Don’t remind me,” he said, laughing. “It was the rally. That long, seventeen-shot bastard of a rally.” He shrugged. “I started having fun.”
I laughed and kissed him and when he pulled away, his expression was serious, his eyes boring into mine. “And I had you.”
“You have me,” I said. “You also have a big shiny trophy to collect.”
He grinned and the mischievous glint in his eye returned. “Bloody right, I do.”
Chapter Fifteen
Daisy
The ceremony was beautiful. Brad scowled and grudgingly told the crowd that Kai played excellent tennis. “He showed us all that when he wants to take it seriously, he can win.”
“Passive-aggressive, much?” I muttered to Jason from the stands.
Jason chuckled. “He’s not wrong.”
But Kai was graceful in victory. He congratulated Brad on giving hi
s hometown some great tennis, and then he lifted the giant silver cup and kissed it while the cameras flashed.
There were more interviews, a dinner, photo-ops, a party with ATP officials, and sponsors—who suddenly flocked to Kai like seagulls. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he and I were alone in his suite at the five-star hotel near the stadium.
Without so much as a word, we fell into each other’s arms, the thrill of his victory adding to the electric need that crashed us together.
Kai’s mouth devoured mine in a series of savage kisses that left me breathless and dizzy with want. We tore fruitlessly and frantically at each other’s clothing until we fell backward into the room. Kai sat on the bed and hauled me onto his lap, straddling him.
“God, Daisy,” he breathed, his mouth trailing kisses between my breasts. “I’ve never wanted a woman so bad in my life. I’m going to fucking die if I don’t have you right now.”
“I want this,” I whispered, kissing him between words. “I want this so bad, but I don’t know what will happen if I lay down with you over me…”
“You don’t have to,” he breathed. “Stay right here.” He ground up against me and a deep ache of pleasure rolled through me. “Right here.”
I nodded once, quickly. “Yes. God, yes.”
I rolled my hips down on him. The hard heat of him strained against his dress pants, against my panties, wanting to get in. My fingernails dug into his neck at the sweet pressure, needing more and wanting more for the first time in a long time.
Kai’s hands slid up my dress, over my thighs as I bent to kiss him. His tongue explored my mouth in demanding swipes, while our bodies moved as if he were already inside me, my hips undulating and his rising to meet them. His fingers pulled at the edges of my panties with frustrated tugs.
“Do something about these before I tear them to shreds…”
I laughed slightly and pulled away long enough for my feet to find the floor and quickly pulled off my underwear while Kai yanked his pants down, freeing his erection that was huge and hard. He scrabbled in the nightstand drawer for a condom and rolled it down, then reached for me.
Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology Page 68
