Love Game - Season 2012
Page 24
“I’ll walk the rest of the way,” she let the driver know and stepped onto the sidewalk.
A year ago she had followed the Galloways around, finding out that the twins were switching matches – at least until the summer. Sasha knew that it had been Gabriella who had won the Wimbledon Championships in Luella’s name. After that the twins had ceased swapping matches. Something seemed to have come between them.
Meanwhile, during the course of the last season one of the twins had approached Sasha, first in the locker room of Roland Garros, and then in a hallway late at night in Cincinnati where they had kissed. Back then she had come to the conclusion that the gay twin was Luella. After they had kissed the Galloway had basically confirmed it. But then there had been a lot of moments when Sasha had wondered what was going on. With every step her thoughts became clearer.
The moment in the locker room in Paris, and in front of the vending machine in Cincinnati. Then the fateful night in Istanbul. Yes, it was Luella who had broken her nose. But it hadn’t been Luella who had apologized for it last night. That had been Gabriella.
Sasha turned into the little pathway that led to the entrance of the house she had rented.
All these nights she had spent with Gabriella – not with Luella. It made perfect sense now. The Galloway never spoke about herself, she never liked it when Sasha called her name – because her name wasn’t ‘Lulu’, and she had even asked Sasha if the Czech liked Gabriella.
She turned the lock and entered the little hall. From the kitchen came the sound of a TV. She heard Kurt and her coach talking.
“Sasha?” Kurt came out of the kitchen. “Great news. Luella withdrew. She cut her finger this morning during breakfast.”
“During breakfast?” Sasha blinked.
“They just interviewed her manager on TV.”
Sasha smirked. So, they had changed the narrative already. Perhaps Hugh Andrews had been right assuming that the injury stemmed from a drinking accident.
“Nobody to bother you on your way to the title now,” Kurt beamed.
What Kurt didn’t know was that Luella’s game had never bothered Sasha. It had been Gabriella who had given her trouble. It had always been Gabriella. On the court and off the court. And for the last four months Sasha had been sleeping next to her without knowing it.
CUTS LIKE A SAW
Wimbledon, Great Britain
“What are you doing?”
Amanda let her racquet bag bang on the floor and quickly closed the door. What she saw was beyond her imagination. Small pieces of wood were scattered all over the floor and more and more sawdust flew through the air.
Elise sat on the bed, but didn’t answer. She was busy.
“You have to stop!” Amanda yelled. With one jump she crossed the room and tried to get hold of the wooden stick.
“What’s your problem?” Elise exclaimed, finally looking up and keeping Amanda at bay. “I’m trying to help.”
“You’re destroying it!”
“For a good cause,” Elise explained.
Amanda sat on the bed and shook her head. “Where did you get this from?”
Elise smiled smugly. “Snatched it.”
She held out her hand and showed Amanda the wooden racquet.
“It must be really old,” Amanda remarked. “So, where did you snatch it from?”
Elise pouted. “From the groundskeeper’s lawn mower shed. Nobody needs this old racquet,” she quickly added. “But I had this wonderful idea that it could be very useful.”
“By sawing it into pieces?”
Elise moaned but gave Amanda a kiss. “You don’t understand. Just shut up and watch.”
To Amanda’s horror, Elise picked up the Swiss Army knife again, hauled out the little saw blade and slipped it into the slash she had already cut between the racquet head and the hand grip. With subtle movements she made it deeper and deeper. Soon the handle would fall off, Amanda thought. What was Elise up to? Why destroy such a beautiful old racquet?
When the handle became more and more unstable Elise proceeded to carefully file down the remaining tie between the racquet head and the handle, so that the handle wouldn’t fall off suddenly causing the wood to splinter. Finally, she pulled off the handle and put it on the bed.
“Well done,” Amanda said quizzically. “What next?”
Elise pointed to her racquet bag. “Open the front pocket.”
Amanda did. She reached in with her hand and pulled out a handful of tools. Shaking her head in disbelief she put the gear on a coffee table next to Elise.
“A hand drill? A pliers? Where did you get all this?”
“Asked the guys in the stringing room,” Elise explained.
Amanda nodded. That was clever. The technicians who restrung the players’ racquets had to have several useful tools. She leaned against the wall and watched Elise set the drill against the sawed-off stump of the head and make a small hole.
“I still don’t know what you’re up to but it looks very skillful,” she flirted.
“Doesn’t it?” Elise teased back.
When she had made a one-inch deep hole she put the drill down and looked up at Amanda.
“Screw,” she commanded, waving her hand towards the table.
“Yes, Doctor Renard,” Amanda jumped up and took a screw from the glass table. “Do you mean this tiny double-headed screw?”
“Yes, Nurse Amanda,” Elise chuckled. “Do you see any other screw than the tiny double-headed screw?”
“No, Doctor Renard.” Amanda gave Elise the screw.
“Pliers.”
“Yes, Doctor Renard,” Amanda grinned, handing Elise the tool.
Quickly, Elise had turned the screw into the hole and tightened it.
“I assume it’s time to call in our little friend,” Amanda asked, finally understanding Elise’s intention.
Elise nodded. “Exactly, Nurse Amanda.”
Amanda reached out and pulled Elise’s racquet bag closer. Rummaging in the depth of it, she finally pulled out the wooden phallus they had been carrying around the world for the last six months.
“It fits,” Elise breathed a sigh of relief when she set the hole at the bottom of the woodpecker against the screw.
“Ace!” Amanda nodded, when the pecker was firmly attached to the racquet handle. “That was a really smart idea. It does look a little odd but everybody will assume it’s because the racquet is very old.”
“We are not finished yet,” Elise purred. “Give me one of your overgrips.”
Amanda took out a roll of white grip tape and watched Elise wrap the dildo’s carved head with it. Now it really looked like an old, harmless racquet. When she was done, Elise exhaled and sank onto the bed.
“That was a highly dangerous operation,” Amanda whispered. “Doctor Renard must be very exhausted.”
“Very,” Elise nodded with closed eyes. Amanda leaned over and kissed her while the racquet slipped slowly to the floor. Without looking Elise reached out her hand and turned off the light.
***
Amazing how empty the place suddenly became, Gabriella thought while turning into the little pathway behind the Aorangi Pavillion. Besides the junior competition there were no matches on the outside courts and most spectators were inside Centre Court and the other show courts that held the doubles matches.
She had booked one of the practice courts that were behind the Pavillion and not accessible by the public. Today she needed some privacy. Stepping down the stairs she saw Monica already unpacking her racquets. Since they played doubles together they also had practice hits together once in a while. Gabriella was surprised how well and hard the older player still hit the ball.
Two hours, perhaps three and she would step out onto the grass of the Wimbledon Centre Court and play for a spot in the final. Two hours, and she had made the decision not to check the scores for the ongoing semifinal. In the end it didn’t matter against whom she would play the final. If she got there. It could be Antonia S
apore – or Sasha.
Since Luella’s unfortunate ‘breakfast injury’ – as it was called by the fellow players – she hadn’t seen Sasha or called her. Lulu was said to have left Wimbledon right away to fly back to the States and have surgery on her hand, which meant that Gabriella couldn’t see Sasha, at least not without telling her who she really was. She had only written a text.
First she typed I’m fine. Don’t worry. But then she had deleted the message. It felt so wrong to lie to Sasha who had opened up to her in the last few weeks, and Gabriella couldn’t deny that her heart pounded faster when she saw the Czech. She had been thwarted by her own insecurities but now it was time to get it right again. She would no longer pretend that she was Luella. Also, she was certain that Sasha never wanted Lulu. She had always wanted Gabriella. The twin finally had sent a text saying Let’s talk soon, and added a heart emoticon.
Gabriella opened the fence gate and smiled when Monica looked up.
“Are you relaxed?” her doubles partner asked.
“So, so,” Gabriella shrugged. Monica, of course, thought that this was Gabriella’s first Grand Slam semifinal. How could she have known that exactly one year ago Gabriella had played the Wimbledon final and won? Nobody knew but Luella. From Centre Court she could hear loud cheers. The fans were getting louder.
“Who would you rather play on Saturday?” Monica asked.
Gabriella didn’t have to think. “Sasha.”
She saw how Monica raised an eyebrow. But then she nodded.
“Good choice,” she said. “Antonia is a good player, but Sasha is the empress. If you want to get to the top you can’t shy away from challenging the best out there.”
Gabriella grinned. Of course, she wanted to be on par with the best. But the true reason she wished for a final against Sasha was the Winners Ball afterwards. They would attend it together – even though as opponents, one the winner and the other the runner-up. But whatever happened in the final, the most important things was that both of them would be there and that Gabriella could finally tell Sasha the truth.
Was she nervous about it? A little bit. What would Sasha say when she found out that Gabriella had lied to her for so many months? But wouldn’t Sasha understand if Gabriella explained it to her?
“Let’s go,” Monica said, tapping her racquet strings.
Gabriella smiled and walked to the baseline. Suddenly she was certain that she would make it to the final. There was a reason she was still in this tournament. Perhaps she wouldn’t win the Championships, but she now had the confidence to open up to Sasha. Yes, Gabriella knew Sasha would understand. She knew in her heart that Sasha felt the same for her.
Another loud eruption of clapping and cheering spilled over from Centre Court.
“Sasha is winning,” Gabriella shouted across the net to Monica who hit a ball over to her.
“Yes, I can hear it,” Monica yelled back.
Gabriella hit a forehand. She was looking forward to her match. She felt good. In fact, she had never felt better in her life.
***
“Are you listening at all?”
Tom and Ted watched the woman to whom they had been talking turn away and step to the railing of the large veranda. On the other side of the balcony the ivy-covered walls of Centre Court towered into the sky.
“Sure,” Sasha answered. She looked over to the main court stadium. Tom and Ted looked at each other. Sure. They had scheduled a meeting with Sasha after the Czech demanded the latest news about the missing pictures. But they didn’t have news, just a plan.
“It’s not like you had to do something completely awkward,” Ted suggested, but closed his mouth quickly when Sasha spun around.
“I’m not going to sleep with Anastasia so you can steal her laptop,” she spat out. “What happened to your plan to break in while she spent the night with Michelle?”
“They don’t see each other anymore,” Tom reported with a sigh.
“Not surprised. Anastasia is not a fan of long-term love affairs,” Sasha informed them. “You should have been quicker.”
“We waited for the right moment,” Ted answered back. He kept quiet about the one night they had already climbed onto Anastasia’s balcony but were then overcome by a lustful moment. When they wanted to pick up their burglar work from where they left off, another hotel guest had opened the window next to them. They had to huddle up to each other and keep quiet until the early morning when the heavy-snoring neighbor closed the window again. There hadn’t been enough time left to break into the room, search for the computer, hack the password, look for the pictures and leave again. So they had climbed back to the roof before the sun rose.
“Well, you botched up,” Sasha replied. “And I won’t fix it.”
“We just thought that you could perhaps ask her out. Go for dinner,” Tom suggested carefully. “You don’t have to spend the whole night with her.”
Ted nodded. “We’d only need a couple of hours. Three or four perhaps.”
“You need me as a lure,” Sasha sighed.
“Yes,” Ted chimed. “So, you will help us?”
“No,” Sasha said vehemently. “You have to figure out a solution without me.”
Ted got up. “I’m playing a Grand Slam semifinal tomorrow. I can’t think about these things,” he blurted out.
Tom watched Sasha from the corner of his eye and bit his lip. Ted’s emotive eruption had been a mistake. Sasha slowly sat down on one of the high chairs that lined the balustrade.
“A semifinal, Ted?” she chuckled condescendingly.
Now Ted also realized that his logic was flawed. Sasha had just played a Grand Slam semifinal. She had dispatched Antonia Sapore in two sets. The Czech would play her eighth Grand Slam final in two days. It wasn’t too wise to weigh a semifinal against a final. The guys would lose, Tom feared.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be now,” he threw in. “Nothing has happened since Luella received the picture in Australia. So probably all of this was just a little lark. We can wait for a better opportunity.”
Tom saw that Sasha flinched when he mentioned the last picture that was handed to the Galloway twin. Her lips formed two syllables. Lulu. Was there truly a rivalry between them? Tom reminded himself that Lulu had won the Championships against Sasha last year. But since then the Galloway hadn’t bothered Sasha on the court. He looked over to Centre Court. On the wall was a huge scoreboard and it displayed that in the on-going match the players had just finished the first set. Interesting, Tom thought. Sasha had a good chance of playing the sister of last year’s champion. Gabriella Galloway had just won the set 6-3.
Sasha followed Tom’s glance. She too checked the score.
“Besides playing for another Grand Slam title I have a lot of other things on my mind,” she said, lost in thought. “I would really like to help you but I don’t know how to handle all this right now.”
The fragileness in her voice startled Tom. He suddenly was overcome by a realization – they had forgotten about the wedding. Sasha had to be swamped at the moment with all the organization for the ceremony.
“Oh, Ted, we are so inconsiderate,” he exclaimed, slapping Ted’s forearm, then turning to Sasha. “How are the wedding preparations going?”
Sasha turned around from the scoreboard.
“Oh, the wedding,” she shrugged. “Yes, yes. I’d almost forgotten about it.”
***
“Polly!”
The cheerful voice rang over the court and Polly Duke turned around. Elise was running towards her and when she reached her she gave the Canadian a big hug.
In the back, Polly could see Amanda with two guys approaching the practice courts.
“Congratulations,” Elise blurted out. Polly laughed. Elise’s excitement was infectious.
“Thank you,” she replied. Polly and Bernadette had made it to the doubles final which would be played later in the afternoon, after the ladies’ singles final and the gentlemen’s doubles final.
“Next year we want to play again,” Elise explained turning around to her girlfriend who had now reached the group. Amanda nodded.
“Well done,” she also congratulated Polly.
“Still a long way to go,” a voice said from behind. Bernadette, the strict task master, had arrived.
Polly grinned at Amanda and Elise. “Got to go,” she said.
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed for you both,” Elise smiled. Then she and Amanda exited through the little gate and joined the two guys on the next practice court.
“Looks like they will play mixed at the Olympics,” Bernadette mumbled.
“Yes, that’s Angus and Christoph,” Polly realized. Amanda and Angus had played mixed doubles a couple of times in the past, while Elise and Christoph had teamed up for the Hopman Cup in the previous season, however they never played together as Christoph had gotten injured.
Polly took her racquet out of her bag and was about to walk to the baseline when she saw a familiar face.
“Hello, Mr. Wilson,” she greeted the groundskeeper.
“Oh, hello Polly!” the elderly gentleman said and approached her. “Congratulations on your wonderful achievement. One more match!”
Polly laughed. Mr. Wilson opened the little gate and stepped onto the grass. “How long are you planning to practice today?” he wanted to know, addressing both Bernadette and Polly.
“Perhaps forty-five minutes,” Bernadette answered. She frowned. The clock was ticking. “Why?”
“We need to get the courts ready for the next big event, you see,” Mr. Wilson explained. “I have to survey the condition of the grass and see how to get it perfect for the Olympics.”