Love Game - Season 2011

by M. B. Gerard

  ***

  He had to do something! Anything! Ted jumped up from the hotel room chair and began to walk around the small room. Why hadn’t he tried to prevent this from the very beginning? He should have never let Tom get away with it in the first place.

  This was the first time since their break-up that Ted had allowed himself to think about Tom again. He had turned on his computer, braced himself and looked for Tom’s blog on the web. He was surprised to find that Tom had already published several blog entries and he was relieved that they didn’t contain any confidential information about the players. So far, nothing compromising had been posted, but his ex-lover had given an insight into players’ routines, pointing out the difficulties faced by gay players in general. Still Ted was worried. He had no way of finding out what Tom was planning or if he had abandoned the idea after their break-up. The uncertainty was killing him. But what could he do now? Frustrated he slammed the laptop shut and headed for the door.

  Prior to booking his hotel in New York he had made sure that is wasn’t the same as Tom’s. Not that Tom’s earnings allowed him to book a hotel of Ted’s standard but he had to be careful nonetheless. Even now he looked around himself when he entered the lobby. But the red-haired journalist was nowhere to be seen.

  Ted entered the restaurant and making a beeline for the bar he looked around the dining room. In one of the tall booths he recognized Amanda Auster, a soft drink in front of her. She was alone.

  All of a sudden Ted felt bad for her. He had persuaded Felicia to stop seeing Amanda half a year ago. Since then the Australian had had a topsy-turvy year and had dropped in the rankings. Instead of heading for the bar he decided to walk over.

  “Hello Ted,” Amanda greeted him, raising an eyebrow. Her aloofness didn’t surprise him. He had done her wrong and she probably didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He took a deep breath.

  “Can I sit down for a minute?”

  She nodded and he slipped onto the bench. Only then did he notice that there was another glass with juice on the table. Was there someone else with Amanda? He hadn’t seen anyone when he came in. Amanda was waiting and he himself had no intention of prolonging this.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about this whole thing with Felicia,” Ted muttered.

  “Oh, Felicia,” Amanda seemed surprised. “You know, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  She looked up and casting a glance into the room she suddenly smiled. Her eyes followed someone through the room causing Ted to turn his head. Elise Renard was walking towards them. It suddenly dawned on Ted that this was Elise’s glass of juice, and that she was probably the reason that the disaster with Felicia didn’t bother Amanda anymore. He laughed in surprise. He certainly would have felt bad if Amanda was still mourning over the singer. Elise seemed neither surprised nor bothered by his sudden appearance and soon they engaged in a friendly conversation, with Ted ordering himself a drink at the table. Not for long though as there were new guests arriving in the restaurant and all of a sudden he heard the voice he wanted to avoid like nothing else. He turned around and looked with a wild stare. Tom was sitting at a table near the entrance and was talking to Candice Crantz, his boss.

  “I need to get out of here,” Ted spluttered moving back and forth on his chair. Elise and Amanda looked at each other, then at Ted again.

  “What’s the matter?” Amanda shook her head amazed to see Ted so erratic and nervous.

  “This guy,” Ted replied pointing at the table. “I must not be seen by him.”

  “Tom?” Elise turned her head, recognizing the redhead.

  “Yes, Tom,” Ted said uncomfortably. Of course, the girls knew Tom as he was working for the WTA. Ted didn’t want to tell Amanda and Elise about him and Tom, but he had already revealed too much about it.

  “He is stalking me,” he lied.

  “Really?” Amanda laughed. “I know that he’s into guys. He is definitely interested, yes. But he never struck me as the stalking kind.”

  “How do you know he is into guys?”

  “Martina Rodriguez told me,” Amanda replied. “She also told me that Tom was very curious about the male players but Martina and Antonia didn’t say a word to him about them.”

  “He wanted to know which guys are gay?” Ted was shocked. Amanda nodded. The table fell silent as Ted seemed to be mulling something over. Then suddenly he looked up with an intense look in his eyes.

  “I need to stop him,” he whispered. Then he looked at Amanda. “You will help me.”

  ***

  Sitting on the balcony of one of the Arthur Ashe suites, Gabriella counted in her head how many times she had played on Ashe compared with her sister. She had played seven times when Lulu had only played five times. Moreover, Gabriella had managed to win two of her matches on Ashe.

  Being American, the twins had been scheduled on Ashe quite often but never for themselves alone. It had always been partly about the opponent – a Top 5 player at least, or the defending champion – they had to play when stepping out onto the U.S. Open center court. When they had played lesser opponents the twins had been scheduled on a show court but not on Ashe.

  This year it was different. At least for Luella it was. Due to the ranking points she had gained with the Wimbledon title she was the highest ranked American woman right now. As the eighth seed she was now scheduled on Ashe entirely because of herself.

  Gabriella had waited with Lulu in the locker room and she could tell that her sister was terribly nervous. Suddenly all eyes were on her. She was a Grand Slam winner and had to perform at her best in her home slam.

  Gabriella however was still ranked in the Top 20 and played her matches on the outer courts or on Grandstand, the second largest show court. Since Stanford they hadn’t switched matches and she felt much better that way. She was slowly working herself up the rankings, she was training harder and was hitting with Elise, Amanda and Natsumi in practice now.

  She had had a good win today, and the good thing about it was that it was all hers. She would win or lose on her own terms now. No analysis of the draw to be made in advance, no Luella who made her play the tricky opponents, no heartbreak when Lulu played for her and lost the match. Regarding her tennis, she couldn’t be happier. But there was something she thought about all the time. Someone.

  Down on the court Luella had just hit a very good winner down the line and the crowd roared with excitement. Gabriella sighed. Yes, she would have liked to play that match here on Ashe. But there was no reason to abandon her plan at the U.S. Open, not even a possible clash between Lulu and Sasha.

  Once again she thought back to the night in Cincinnati. It had been pure luck that she had had a sudden craving for sweets and had taken the elevator to the next floor. In hindsight the kiss in front of the vending machine had been a brilliant idea, as Sasha had lost the following day in Cincinnati and never reached the quarterfinal where she could have played Lulu. Gabriella was suddenly in a very comfortable position.

  Sasha assumed that it had been Lulu who had kissed her. But her reaction was not – as Gabriella had feared before Cincinnati – to confront Lulu about it, but to avoid her sister at all costs. This morning on the way to the gym she had felt that Sasha had relaxed upon finding out that she had bumped into Gabriella, not Lulu. Still Sasha had kept the conversation short and had settled in the back of the gym to prevent the Galloway twin from coming over. Gabriella almost felt a bit sorry for the Czech.

  She sometimes thought about Sasha when lying in the dark hotel room late at night. She recapitulated the sensation she had felt just before she had leaned forward and had touched Sasha’s lips with hers. A rush of adrenaline had gone straight to her heart exploding into tiny coconut flavored shivers when they kissed. What had amazed Gabriella was the fact that Sasha hadn’t slapped her in the face but had kissed her back instead.

  The melody of the pressed vending machine buttons still rang in her head. She wondered if her behavior in the locker room in Rola
nd Garros and again the kiss in Cincinnati really had to do only with Lulu and Sasha or whether it was directed by her own interests. It had undeniably been the most intense kiss she had had with a girl so far and the more she thought about it, the more she craved for another one.

  ***

  Elise’s hands were sweating. She wiped them on her pants then clenched her fists again. Ever since she had seen the draw she had feared the fourth round. But she would have never imagined that it would be that bad.

  “Oh, what a shot!”

  Sitting next to Elise on a large sofa in the players’ lounge was Angela, her German friend and fellow Fed Cup player. In front of them were three large televisions showing the matches currently on the show courts. On the first Ted Curry was two sets and a break down on Robert Lepus. It looked like the fifth seed was going out in the third round already.

  However, both girls had turned away from Ted’s misery and were currently watching two other matches. On the one screen the match between Rufino and Christoph Franke was on its way to becoming a classic. The two players were level at two sets all and had held serve so far in the fifth. Neither seemed to be breaking down. A spectacular winner by Rufino made Angela exclaim in delight. Distracted by Angela’s enthusiastic yell Elise looked away from the screen she was watching and shot a glance at the men’s match on Arthur Ashe. She would be playing as soon as they had finished. For the first time in her career she was scheduled to play on the biggest tennis court in the world. It could hold 23,000 people. She felt nauseous. But it wasn’t the enormousness of the stage that made her feel sick. The stadium didn’t look overcrowded for the men’s match and Elise knew that as soon as she stepped out onto the court she would forget about the spectators. It wasn’t her own upcoming match that made her nervous.

  She looked back to her screen while drying her sweaty hands again. Scheduled on Grandstand court, Amanda tried to break her opponent to win the match. She had won the first set against a shaky Yelena Kovalenko, but surprisingly the Ukrainian had done a good job to compose herself and had played a magnificent second set. Yelena held, then Amanda held for her own service game and once again tried to break Yelena for the match.

  “You shouldn’t even watch this,” Angela remarked. “Just look at you. All tense and anxious.”

  “How can I not watch it?” Elise answered. “I have to play against one of them.”

  “Please, Elise, don’t tell me you are watching for tennis reasons,” Angela smiled and pointing to the men’s match. Rufino had two match points. “This could be over in a second and you should already be in the locker room.”

  Shit, Elise thought. Amanda had to hurry up and win the match. Elise couldn’t imagine going on court without knowing if Amanda had won. But on Grandstand Amanda was unable to break the unrelenting Kovalenko. The set would be decided by a tiebreak.

  “Rufino just won by the way,” Angela remarked. Elise moaned. She had to get ready to go onto court, but she kept on staring at the television spellbound by the events. Just like the whole set the tiebreak was incredibly close. When the players went back to their chairs at 6-6 to drink some water, Angela gave Elise an urging look.

  “I know, I know,” Elise snapped, but she didn’t move.

  After Kovalenko couldn’t convert a set point, Amanda hit a stunning backhand down the line. Even though Yelena, who had rushed to the net, was able to reach it the ball landed in the net. From then on the caption on the TV screen merrily switched from match point to set point and back again.

  “Get up,” Angela almost yelled at Elise. “Now!”

  She grabbed Elise’s cold and sweaty hands and pulled her from the sofa. Dragged out by her friend Elise shot a last look at the TV. Amanda and Yelena had both come up to the net exchanging volleys until Amanda hit a powerful passing shot right onto the baseline. The crowd roared in unison but Yelena Kovalenko lifted her hand and gestured at the chair umpire.

  She would challenge the call.

  ***

  Jack’s Pizzaria was just across from the hotel where Paola Scetti and Samantha Watts were staying on 42nd street. After the night match had ended they decided to end the evening with much Italian food and even more drinks. Seated at a table up in the gallery, they leaned back in their chairs to study the menu.

  “I’ll take the Penne alla Vodka,” Sam finally grinned. “I sure need every ounce of booze after all the drama today.”

  When the waiter arrived, Paola ordered the Eggplant Parmigiani and an Italian Margarita, because Sam was right, the day had seen quite a lot of drama.

  “I can’t believe that Luella is out of the tournament,” she muttered. “In straight sets.”

  “She hasn’t been the same since Wimbledon,” Sam replied. “The title is weighing too heavily on her shoulders. She hasn’t played all summer like she did in that final.”

  Paola nodded. When their food arrived they dug in and for a few minutes there was a silence between the chatty women. The dishes were excellent.

  “I was also very disappointed by Elise Renard’s performance,” Paola finally said.

  “What was going on?”

  Sam spiked a load of penne onto her fork and shoveled it into her mouth.

  “She looked completely discombobulated for the first set,” Paola shook her head, recounting the match. “Couldn’t get her first serve in. Balls sprayed all over the place. The second set wasn’t much better.”

  “Well, I myself was busy with Amanda and Yelena,” she sighed.

  “The tiebreak is all over the news.” Paola had seen highlights of it before she had left the channel’s editing room.

  “They just went on and on and on and on and on,” Sam laughed. “When Yelena began using her challenges I thought it would be over soon. She always does that when she is in trouble and feels she is losing.” Sam had talked herself into the excitement again and Paola leaned back to enjoy the show.

  “So, Amanda has the umpteenth match point. No, wait, it was the fifth, I think. She hits one of her inside-outs and Yelena reaches it and it goes right onto the baseline. Amanda plays the ball but then there is the call. The ball is out. Everyone is confused. Is the match over? But Yelena challenges it, and guess what? The ball was right on the line. So the call is overturned and they have to replay the point. Still match point for Amanda, remember?”

  Sam caught her breath.

  “Again they engage in a lengthy rally, and again Amanda hits an inside-out. Again Yelena reaches it and slams it back cross-court. Out, says the line umpire. Again Yelena challenges. And you won’t believe it but that call was also wrong. This time it was a clear winner so they were back to 12 all, or 14 all or what not. It went on and on, I tell you.”

  She shook her head and grabbed her wine glass.

  “Amazing tiebreak,” she muttered, still overwhelmed. “Of course, it only happened because Amanda couldn’t serve out the set.” She cracked up laughing.

  “Oh, she likes to give her fans a heart condition, doesn’t she?” Paola grinned.

  “Yes,” Sam nodded. “Then she got really angry with herself and dropped a very loud F-bomb right in front of the chair umpire. It got her a code-violation warning, of course.”

  Paola shook her head in amazement, but Sam wasn’t finished yet.

  “After Amanda lost the tiebreak she went off court to change her clothes and I said to Hugh, hopefully no one would meet her on the way to the locker room, because she’d probably code-violate everything that crossed her path. I was, of course, thinking of verbal abuse and smashed racquets, right?”

  Paola nodded.

  “And you know what Hugh said?”

  Paola shook her head.

  “He said in an absolutely serious tone, ‘Oh, Lynn wouldn’t mind a little code-violation on the side, Sam.’ Can you believe it? We were still on air.”

  They almost fell off their chairs with laughter, screaming so loudly from the gallery that a waiter came running. Out of embarrassment for having caused such a clamor the
y felt obliged to order several drinks at once.

  ***

  Elise had been sitting on the floor leaning against the bed for the past thirty minutes but now it was time to get up and have dinner with her parents.

  After losing her match her father had put his arms around her and had promised to take them all out to a good restaurant. On another day she would have appreciated his effort to cheer her up, but today it only meant another two hours with her parents in which she would struggle with herself whether to tell them or not. Perhaps if she only had a salad she could keep the dinner short.

  Elise got up with a sigh and not bothering to dress up she went downstairs to meet her parents. She didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant and even when they were seated she remained thoughtful and a bit grumpy. Her parents obviously felt her bad mood was the result of the lost match.

  “You had several great weeks since the grass season,” her father said confidently. “Don’t focus on the loss, but let’s work on the things we need to improve.” He nodded in encouragement.

  After they had ordered they talked about the next journey, the next tournament. Her parents planned to leave New York as soon as possible and head back to their base in Florida. They had already booked flights for the next day. Desperation crept up inside Elise. She and Amanda wouldn’t see each other for several weeks. Would they ever be able to spend more time together?

  The food arrived. While her parents started eating, Elise stared down at her plate. Tears had filled her eyes.

  “I wanted to tell you something,” she finally said with a small voice. Her parents stopped eating.

  “Of course,” her father said, nodding at her. They were waiting.

  Elise was waiting herself. Was this the right moment? But nothing about this restaurant, about this evening indicated that it was wise to do it now. Not the salad staring back at her, not the salt shaker she could see in the corner of her eye, not the smiling waitress whirling by their table. It seemed like ages in which Elise was plucking the napkin, playing with her knife and fork and chewing on her lip. Her mouth moved like she was juggling marbles inside.