by M. B. Gerard
Only an hour ago it seemed she could hold up and might win the match, but Ivana Katina had braced herself and in the end she had broken Amanda to gain the lead in the second set, held for 5-3 and had broken Amanda again to win the match. She was a much younger and more inexperienced player than the Australian but it seemed Amanda wasn’t able to awe the young players any longer. No wonder, when she hit the ball like a recreational player.
“Crap,” she shouted. It really was. Losing in the second round in Stanford meant that she was out of the Top 10 for the first time in two years. She had kept a straight face during her press conference but she felt the doubts and the murmurs that had been uttered by her critics for the past month creeping in on her and finally clasping her heart like a cold, wet towel. Maybe she wasn’t a Top 10 player at all. Maybe she had only been lucky the past few years. Instead of winning trophies, she was losing in early rounds. Her performances in Paris and Wimbledon had already taken her ranking down a peg. But having been a quarterfinalist in Stanford last year, her early exit now had taken her out of the Top 10 altogether.
After calming down she slowly got up and walked to the bathroom to wipe her nose. When she flushed the paper down the toilet she heard a knock on the door. Amanda sighed. She should have answered Elise’s message. Now she had to face her new girlfriend and she didn’t want to in a moment of defeat. Unlike Amanda, Elise was thriving in Stanford, having beaten both of her opponents so far in straight sets and couldn’t be happier. Not exactly what Amanda needed right now.
Again, there was a knock. Amanda checked her eyes in the mirror but had to accept the fact that she looked puffy and dreadful. So be it, she thought. Why shouldn’t Elise see her beaten and knocked out? Wouldn’t be the last time probably, so the German better get used to the fact that her new Australian girlfriend was a loser who couldn’t hit the ball into court. And if the new Wimbledon quarterfinalist superstar couldn’t take it, they had better end it right now. Angrily, Amanda sniffed and walked over to open the door.
“Hello, babe,” Natsumi grinned through the door. “Heard you are now able to join me in binge drinking this little bottle.” She waved a huge bottle of saké in front of Amanda’s nose. Despite her sullenness Amanda couldn’t help grinning. She let her Japanese friend in. Natsumi gave her a little kiss on the cheek, settled down in a chair and opened her bag to produce a fine array of sushi rolls.
After gorging the food and half of the saké bottle, Amanda felt better.
“How are you and Elise?” Natsumi leaned back taking a sip from her glass.
“Ok, I guess,” Amanda answered.
Feeling that her reply lacked the required newly-in-love enthusiasm she explained, “It’s all good. Really. I just don’t like the situation we are in. It’s weird to talk to Elise’s parents knowing that they have no idea what I do to their little daughter at night.”
“Details please,” Natsumi demanded but Amanda shook her head.
“Is she good?” the Japanese girl inquired with a grin and Amanda finally nodded. Yes, the sex was much better than she had anticipated, after learning that Elise was completely inexperienced.
“She’s very ambitious,” Amanda explained. “On the court and off the court.”
“Keep her,” Natsumi said. Even though she had winked at Amanda there was a serious tone in her voice. Amanda smiled at the Japanese. There was probably no one on the tour who knew Amanda better than her former lover and now best friend.
“I’ll try,” Amanda said. Natsumi nodded but then took a look at her watch and decided that it was time to leave.
“Yes, I’ll try,” Amanda repeated, while walking Natsumi to the door. But her whole life had turned out to be one frustrating repetition of trial-and-error, clearly visible right now whenever Amanda stepped onto the court. She closed the door behind Natsumi and felt the tears creeping back into her eyes. With her head soaked in Japanese wine, the doubts were closing in even more now and Amanda was wondering if Elise would keep her in the long run or if she would get bored with Amanda when she finally was able to overtake her. Perhaps Elise didn’t love her after all. Perhaps this was just the younger player’s way of getting a taste of success while playing it safe by not telling her parents. It was only a matter of time until Elise would make the Top 10. And then she would dump Amanda.
***
Gabriella hurried into the hotel lobby. Looking around, she saw Elise sitting in her chair and checking her cell phone. The German looked worried and flinched in surprise when Gabriella poked her in the back.
“Are you texting Amanda?” Gaga grinned at her trying to glimpse over Elise’s shoulder to see the cell phone’s display.
“No, just waiting for her reply actually,” Elise explained. Apparently she was wondering if she should text her Australian girlfriend again or even call her. “She lost her match today.”
“Yes, I heard about it,” Gabriella frowned. “Sorry about that.” She understood that is was not only a match lost but also Amanda’s Top 10 ranking, which would hurt even more.
“She will have better days,” Elise mumbled.
Gabriella sensed that Elise was not only gloomy because her girlfriend had lost an important match but because Amanda hadn’t bothered talking to Elise about it.
“Come on,” she grabbed Elise good-humoredly by the shoulders and pushed her through the door of the restaurant that was next to the hotel lobby. At a table in the back Morgana had already unpacked her huge bag of Tennis Nurse novels. Gaga and Elise sat down and looking over the titles grinned like Cheshire cats.
“May I borrow this one,” Elise asked excitedly, holding up an edition of Tennis Nurse and The Wiz Kid of Oz. Morgana looked up from sorting the novels by publishing date. She paused for a moment.
“Qui, qui. This one is ok,” she nodded. “I just need to make sure that I keep all the books published before 1999 for my research.”
“Research?” Gaga wondered while looking through the treasure heap.
“Mais qui. You see, in the novels from 1997 to 1999 there is a group of eight players who play Task Tennis,” Morgana replied impatiently while Gaga and Elise gave each other questioning looks. Task Tennis? They both had only read newly published Tennis Nurse novels.
“But it is not really explained what Task Tennis is,” Morgana continued her lecture. “I’ve asked around and no one seems to know about this game. The reader is made to believe that it is some sort of secret training method. But it was not.” Elise giggled at seeing Morgana all excited.
“When I was in Brighton I found out that this group really existed,” Morgana opened her eyes in triumph.
“Brighton?” Now Elise and Gaga cracked up laughing. “When did you go to Brighton?”
“During Eastbourne,” Morgana said matter-of-factly. “With Sasha. She was supposed to help me, but she let me down.”
“Sasha?” Elise and Gaga said simultaneously, then looked at each other awkwardly. Even though Gabriella was glad to have Elise as a new friend, she avoided talking about Sasha as she knew that Elise didn’t like the Czech. But she didn’t know why and was reluctant to ask Elise. Even Morgana seemed to sense the uneasy shift in their conversation. She quickly went on with her explanation.
“Well, anyway,” Morgana said. “I went to that address again after Sasha got drunk in that bar, and thought I might look in one of the windows. Quelle surprise! There was Monica Jordan with another woman. I couldn’t see the woman’s face as she was sitting with her back to me. They were drinking tea in the living room, which was brightly lit so I could see the walls. Books, books, books. And a whole shelf of Tennis Nurse novels.”
Elise and Gaga looked at the French player in amazement. This was the most hilarious story Gabriella had ever heard. Sasha drunk? This could not be true. Morgana must have made that up or had lost her mind. Everyone knew that Morgana was a bookworm, she was highly intelligent and well-read. But this was incredible.
“Didn’t you talk to them?” Elise gave Morgana
a questioning look.
“Mais non,” Morgana replied. “But when they walked out of the room I pushed up the window a little bit and stuck my head in to get a better look. Right under the window was a writing desk with papers.” She shifted in her chair a little uneasily.
”I didn’t want to steal it, you have to believe me,” Morgana shrugged. “I just grabbed some of the papers to have a quick look. So I was sitting there under the window going through the papers when suddenly I heard them coming back and I had to duck. They locked the window from inside.”
By now, Gaga and Elise were looking at each other with open mouths.
“I couldn’t do anything, even if I wanted to put them back in place.” Morgana had spread out her arms in a helpless gesture. “So I had to take the papers with me.”
“Was there anything interesting in them for your research?” Gaga snickered, even though Morgana gave her an annoyed look.
“Yes, there was.” She pulled out a sheet of paper from her bag. “The rules for Task Tennis. Written down by one of the real players herself. Now I only need to analyze the handwriting to find out who is behind the original group of eight players. I’ve already started to collect the autographs of all the players active in those years.”
“You do know that you are a bit peculiar, Morgana?” Elise said carefully.
“Yes, I know,” Morgana shrugged. “But it’s ok to be different. Nothing wrong with that.”
Gaga and Elise looked at each other from the corner of their eyes and Gabriella wondered if the French woman knew what her words meant to both of the younger players.
***
“It will be Renard,” Sasha’s coach said over the phone. “You’re going to play Elise Renard in the next round.”
Interesting, Sasha thought. She had just finished her press conference after her victorious afternoon match and was heading back to the hotel. A rematch of their Wimbledon quarterfinal. It wouldn’t be an easy round at all but the anticipated difficulty of the face-to-face increased her determination even more.
Sasha got into one of the tournament cars, and cruising through the town she looked back on the past weeks and smiled to herself. Eastbourne and more precisely the fiasco of Brighton seemed far behind, now. From time to time she couldn’t but come across Anastasia, the umpire she had spent the night with in Eastbourne, or Morgana on her way to practice but neither the French player nor Anastasia Stea had insisted on furthering the relationship. The Brighton incident was almost like a big grey cloud over the British sky vanishing with every ball she hit. In addition, Wimbledon had been a great experience and reaching a Grand Slam final after months of hard work had instilled the thought in Sasha that she indeed could get back to the very top. She could even say she had enjoyed her time with Jaro. Dutifully he had attended her matches in London and being an athlete himself understood her determination and uncompromising will to win. Jaro was a nice guy. She had grown to like him. She had almost scared him the day they had said good-bye in Wimbledon as she had thrown her arms around him. There were no journalists around in the early morning at Heathrow and no need to put on a show. She had felt truly sorry to leave him as he had turned out to be sympathetic guy with great patience. For several nights he had listened without complaining when she had told him the Brighton story – at least those parts she was able to remember. When she thought about it they were very similar in a lot of ways and now she wouldn’t even be lying if she said she had spent the night with him. A good match, she thought with a grin.
The car arrived in front of the hotel and in a good mood Sasha climbed out and shouldered her racquet bag.
The most important thing was tennis again and her climbing up the rankings after Wimbledon had pushed her mood through the ceiling. She was back on track at last, meaning she was back in the Top 10. Her next goal was the Top 5, where the air got thin and the peak was within reach. Being back in the Top 5 was one thing but what Sasha really wanted was to get the No. 1 spot back. She was willing more than ever to work hard for it. It had hurt for a moment that she hadn’t won Wimbledon but then she had accepted the lost match and moved on. She had lost to a tough opponent. Gabriella Galloway.
Now that Sasha thought about it, she felt great about her runner-up trophy. Much better than what Gabriella had to deal with. No, Sasha wouldn’t mourn over a Grand Slam which wasn’t hers. Gabriella could tell her a thing or two about it. She could imagine that it was no fun for the American to win her first Grand Slam final only to know that it was her sister’s name in the history books.
Tennis wasn’t just about the number of trophies you had but it certainly was very pleasing to see your own name on a shiny silver plate. Seeing her name on a runner-up trophy – the first in two years – Sasha was proud of the evolution of her game, and the progress she had made. She had made huge strides and had silenced her doubters with a magnificent summer reaching the final in Rome and the quarterfinal in Paris. With her success in Wimbledon she was suddenly a heavy favorite for the U.S. Open series. She deserved it. Everyone had to acknowledge that her comeback was well-earned. Every day she spent a huge amount of time on court and dedicated most of her time off to discussing tactics with her coach or at the gym working on her fitness. Once in a while she allowed herself to think about Gabriella and Luella and the confusion the twins had temporarily brought to her mindset.
But being an athlete and determined to be the best meant making sacrifices. The idle days were over. She would have plenty of time for friends and more when she retired. For the moment, it had to be all about tennis. No time for trips to the countryside with Morgana to hunt down the author of Tennis Nurse, no time to follow the Galloways around.
Entering the hotel, Sasha was sporting a big grin, but then stopped dead in her tracks. Speak of the devil! There was one of the Galloways with Morgana and Elise right before her in the hotel lobby. Sasha was puzzled by the coincidence and seeing these three together, but then quickly went to the elevator.
***
“Ok, what’s new?” Gemma Heffington sat down heavily in the plastic chair that was placed courtside. Her arms were dangling at each side and she looked like she couldn’t hold a racquet for another second. Ivana Katina had come from the court next to Gemma’s and sat down on her chair with her back to Gemma. She looked over her shoulder and addressed the British player.
“Are Amanda and Felicia still an item?” she murmured. “Felicia wasn’t around in Wimbledon, was she?”
“Yes, she was,” Gemma sat up and turned around. “She was with Ted. I saw her in the first week but not at the courts but in London at a dinner with the British players.”
“What is going on with them? Is this a threesome?” Ivana nodded her head in delight. What better way to head into the US season than by feeding the rumor mill?
“No, definitely not for Amanda. Just look at her. Losing to you in the second round,” Gemma winked at Ivana sarcastically.
“What is that supposed to mean? I was really good yesterday.” Ivana grabbed a new bottle of water. From the court next to them, Angela Porovski and Gemma’s fellow British player Robyn Lawrence walked over and sat down under an umbrella with Robyn and Ivana.
“You never know with these quiet ones. God knows, Amanda could be a total stud,” Robyn threw in. “One of those discreet Casanovas.”
“True,” Gemma nodded. “In Rome she was seen with Natsumi, so who knows what’s going on there.”
“Yes, maybe Amanda was just tired of pleasuring her harem,” Robyn said to Ivana poking her in the side. They fell silent again and watched the Galloway twins hitting balls on the next court.
“I can never tell them apart on the court. Can you?”
“It doesn’t help that they wear the same clothes,” Angela admitted. “Off the court it’s easier. Lulu’s more open.”
Robyn snorted. “This will change now that she is a Grand Slam champion. I’m pretty sure we won’t see any imitations of Sasha’s walk to the baseline or her serve anymor
e.”
“Oh, why not? I would appreciate a little rivalry at the top.”
“Yes, Lulu really dislikes Sasha. I wonder why?”
“I heard a thing or two,” Robyn said cryptically.
Before Robyn could spill the beans, however, a familiar face opened the gate and entered the practice courts. Looking out for the Galloway twins, Tom dragged heavy camera bags to the court.
“Why is Tom so awfully pale?” Gemma mused. “He also looks like he hasn’t shaved in four days. He’s making us Brits look like cave people.”
“Yes, he doesn’t look good,” Angela wondered. “I will ask him tomorrow, if he is alright. Stephanie and I will have an interview with him tomorrow after our doubles match. They want to promote doubles more, it seems.”
“Speaking of doubles,” Ivana addressed Angela. “What’s up with that new partnership of Amanda and Elise? They totally rocked in Wimbledon, right? I was actually convinced they would take the title.”
“Yes,” Angela grinned. “They make a good pairing.”
“It’s a bit unusual that they keep on playing doubles, don’t you think, since they both never get tired of emphasizing that their focus is on singles?” Gemma inquired.
“Well, I think they only play for fun,” Angela answered with a shrug.
“Fun? Amanda doesn’t take the tennis too seriously these days,” Robyn gave Ivana a wink.
“Yes, Elise should be careful,” Gemma snickered. “Amanda, the discreet Casanova, is on the prowl.”
The Russian and the two Brits laughed but Angela remained silent. She was still watching the Galloway twins hitting forehands.
“Let’s play doubles,” she finally said, standing up.
Cincinnati, United States
With her racquet bag on her shoulders, Gabriella Galloway left the locker rooms and made her way up the concrete stairway that led to the players’ central lobby.
