by M. B. Gerard
***
Anastasia had been surprised to see Sasha when she had opened her hotel room door, but she had invited her in nevertheless.
“I wanted to say sorry for my rant. I don’t know what got into me,” Sasha said while sitting down on the chair.
“You didn’t play very well,” Anastasia remarked matter-of-factly. She had opened the little fridge and had begun to pour them a G & T. Sasha wanted to protest, but then stopped herself. She was here to reconcile not to be impolite again.
“No,” she admitted. “No. I was thinking about a photo.”
“A photo?”
“Yes. And for a moment during the match I thought that maybe you were the one who had given it to me.”
“Me? What photo are you talking about?”
“Nevermind,” Sasha replied. “Just a picture. I know it wasn’t you. I don’t know what got into me. As you said I played badly.”
Anastasia sat down opposite Sasha and handed her the glass. She watched Sasha carefully.
“Is it a photo of you and me? From Eastbourne?”
“No,” Sasha shook her head, trying to give the worried umpire a smile. “Just me and someone else.” She sighed.
“In a delicate situation?” Anastasia took a sip of her drink.
“No, not really,” Sasha said. She hadn’t touched her G & T yet. “It’s just the look on my face suggests there might be something going on. But there is nothing.”
She looked up at Anastasia, suddenly glad she had come here to apologize.
“That’s the most worrisome thing about this picture, you see. There is no note on it. I don’t know whether this is an attempt to blackmail me or just an attempt by that other person in the picture to get my attention. Or maybe just a joke by someone.”
“Let me get this straight,” Anastasia said, waving her hands to slow Sasha down. “This other person is a girl and you look at her in an affectionate way?”
“Basically,” Sasha nodded.
“That’s not enough to blackmail someone,” Anastasia stated.
“That’s what I thought,” Sasha said. She finally sipped a bit of her drink and relaxed. “So it must be the other reason.”
“You think she is in love with you and wants to convince you that you are in love with her?” Anastasia was bemused by the thought. “Are there no better ways for you girls to show your affection?”
Sasha snickered and looked at Anastasia who winked back at her. Sasha was sure the umpire had witnessed many delicate scenes at player parties, in hallways and lounges. Anastasia knew the girls were not exactly shy as soon as the cameras were gone.
“You’re right. That’s why I’m not sure it’s her who gave me the picture,” Sasha replied. “Besides I think I know who took the picture.”
Anastasia leaned back eager to hear the new information.
“This guy who does all the pictures and some little stories on us has showed up every now and then. I know it doesn’t have to mean anything, but he always seemed to be where I was. It’s his job to be around us and take pictures so I never thought there was anything wrong with it. But he appeared when I was shopping or when I went for walks. I forgot about it, because it was only during the European swing. But now that I think about it, I’m almost sure it was him, as the picture is half a year old.”
“Why would he do that?”
Sasha shrugged. She had no idea why Tom was stalking her. Of course, he could be madly in love with her. She had had crazy people following her in the past. But usually they would eventually try to approach and contact her but Tom had never tried that.
“Do you want to stay for the night?”
Anastasia’s question came out of nowhere and it caught Sasha off guard. Yes, she wanted to, and even though she couldn’t remember their last time in Eastbourne there must have been something good about it, if Anastasia had asked for a rematch. On the other hand there was a dark-haired girl who was perhaps waiting for her. Sasha hesitated. Or perhaps not. She looked into her glass. Anastasia must have sensed her indecisiveness because she leaned forward.
“I’m not in love with you, Sasha,” she smiled and waved her hand at Sasha’s boobs. “I just appreciate one or two things about you.”
Sasha had to laugh. “Good,” she said. “Same here.” But she still wouldn’t make a move toward Anastasia.
“So, you are in love with that girl?” Anastasia smiled at her, and Sasha knew if she said yes, Anastasia would probably be happy for her and let Sasha go. She waited.
“No,” she finally said. “I don’t even like her.”
She gulped down the rest of her drink, leaned forward and slipping her hand behind Anastasia’s head she pulled her forward. No, Sasha thought while kissing the umpire. No, she don’t even like Luella. That was the truth.
***
Gabriella Galloway sat on the broad windowsill of her fancy hotel room and overlooked the Tokyo skyline. Maybe she should have accepted her sister’s offer to go out tonight, but after dinner she had felt like going to bed soon. She had gone up to her room and had begun reading the Tennis Nurse novel Morgana had given her but soon her thoughts had wandered off to something else. Something that was more intriguing than Tennis Nurse and the Girl from Hollywood. A real story that gave her thrills whenever she thought about it. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that she didn’t know how the story ended. It would depend on her, on what she did. Or what she didn’t do. Should she do anything at all? Or perhaps just wait for the story to unfold?
She had met Sasha briefly outside of Candice Crantz’s office in the morning and had said hello. They were on speaking terms but that was it. Gabriella had to admit that it was the best thing that could have happened to her. Sasha thought it was Lulu who had kissed her in Cincinnati. And because Sasha was even more afraid of her cover being blown than Gabriella she anxiously stayed away from the Galloways. She would never talk to Luella and accidentally let slip something thereby unveiling Gabriella’s secret.
She put the novel away and got up. The streets of Tokyo were bustling with lights and colors. But there was no sound reaching the 15th floor of Gabriella’s hotel. She touched the huge glass window, feeling like a fish in a tank. How often had she analyzed her peculiar situation with Sasha? And every time she had come to the conclusion that the situation was perfect. But every time she thought about it she also felt lost. She had kissed Sasha and it had been a clever move.
But what made her uncomfortable was the fact that Sasha had kissed her back. Passionately, she should add. It confirmed what she had always suspected. That Sasha Mrachova was into girls and that she was pretending with Jaro, her fiancé. More worrisome was the fact that she was obviously not uninterested in the Galloway twins. Sasha’s recent avoidance could also mean that she was not only trying to maintain her cover but she was trying to avoid what she wanted most. Her, Gabriella. Or Luella. Gabriella moaned in frustration. What did Sasha want? Who did she want? But all the intimate encounters had been with her, Gabriella. So Sasha Mrachova wanted her, right? Gabriella looked outside the window but all the blinking signs and colors of the city couldn’t give her an answer.
The truth was Gabriella wanted Sasha to want her. And yes, Gabriella wanted Sasha. But how could she make it happen? She couldn’t. Unless she wanted to give up her cover, which she didn’t. She was not like Elise, who didn’t seem to be affected at all by the rumors about her and Amanda that were mounting higher than Fuji by now. While picking up her badges two days ago she had passed two umpires who had openly discussed the relationship. Apparently, Amanda and Elise were the new favorite couple who would win the umpires’ Year End Award for Cutest Couple.
Gabriella sighed. She really had to talk to someone about it. The situation was driving her mad. The only person who knew that she was gay and to whom she ever talked about it was Elise. But Elise didn’t like Sasha. Moreover, Elise wasn’t supposed to know that Lulu and Gaga used to switch matches.
The only person whom
she used to trust was Luella. They used to be one. But Lulu wasn’t supposed to know that she wanted Sasha. In summary, Gaga had two secrets to deal with. Two too many for her liking.
She went back to bed again. Looking at the Tennis Nurse novel on her bed stand she quickly decided against picking it up again. Compared with her life this book was a bore.
Luxembourg, Grand Duchy of Luxembourg
“These are the locker rooms,” Candice said opening the door, then stepped inside and sighed. A clean locker room was a formidable sight. Only in the days before the tournament and in the early morning was it as clean and tidy.
“Take a good look at it now. In two days you will not recognize it,” she said to the young woman, who laughed.
“I know,” Alice said. “I would have never thought that people can mess up a place so quickly.”
Walking through the locker room into the hallway that led to the court, Candice glanced over at the girl next to her. Alice had wandered into Candice’s office and applied for the job in Luxembourg only an hour ago. Usually Candice did not accept any new on-site employees at the last minute, but two of her staff members had called in sick this morning and Luxembourg was a small tournament, therefore easily manageable, so she decided to give the young woman a chance. Moreover, Alice had already worked for the French Open earlier this year and even though she had worked for the players’ service rather than in communications she must have made a very positive impression, at least to Amanda Auster. Along with her résumé came a recommendation full of praise from the Australian player and her management. It sounded as though Alice had rescued Amanda with a ‘special service’?
While entering the Center Court through the players’ entrance and pointing out the players’ and corporate boxes she watched the woman who inspected everything with thorough attentiveness.
“So what did you do for Amanda? Did you bring her chocolate in the middle of the night?”
Alice turned her head. “Flowers,” she laughed. “She needed a bouquet as soon as possible. I gave her the flowers Yelena Kovalenko’s disappointed ex-lover had left at the help desk earlier.”
Candice cracked up laughing. She suddenly remembered what Agnes had told her in the summer. That Elise had been taken to the infirmary after her knee gave her problems at the French Open and that Amanda had shown up with flowers. Agnes and her had had good fun imagining Amanda clandestinely plucking flowers from Court Suzanne Lenglen’s corporate boxes for her new love interest. Now it had turned out that Amanda and Elise’s love story had quite a different beginning. How hilarious was the fact that the flowers, intended for Yelena, the biggest drama queen of the WTA had landed in the hands of shy Amanda Auster and had resulted in a dinner invitation that had changed two people’s lives?
Candice shook her head in amazement. Life – and flowers – took some interesting turns sometimes. They walked back to the office and turning a corner almost bumped into Tom Richardson.
“Tom,” Candice smiled. “I’m glad we ran into you. This is Alice. She will work with us for the week.”
Having introduced them to each other and seeing that Tom was carrying his heavy camera bags, Candice suggested that Alice could start right away by helping Tom shoot some footage of the tournament grounds.
With an excited nod Alice took one of Tom’s bags, shouldered it and followed him outside. Candice watched the young people chat until they disappeared behind a corner. She had really begun to like Alice and with the season coming to an end and some of her staff members leaving the team she had to consider recruiting new team members. Opening the door to her office, Candice decided to wait until the end of the week and if Alice turned out to be a good worker she would offer her a permanent job on the tour.
***
Mint checked her watch. It was early afternoon and she had just finished her practice hit. She walked to the locker rooms and took a shower. No need to rush. She would have enough time before her delivery arrived in this laid-back part of Europe.
Two days ago she had spent the whole afternoon searching for a 1-hour-photo store, without success. Luxembourg didn’t seem to be in any hurry to develop their inhabitants’ pictures. In the end she had to opt for a little convenience store. The pictures should be ready this afternoon, the owner had told her. It was quite an adventure, she had thought. Usually she would just ask one of the girls who worked for the tournament to do this for her. But these were her special pictures. She had to do it herself, and it turned out to be a good challenge.
She had spent the last weeks looking through all of the pictures. There were about three hundred of them. All showed players with other players or in the guys’ cases sometimes with random guys unknown to her. Some of the scenes were pretty graphic like the pictures of Antonia and Martina in a hallway. Most intriguing was the fact that photos were obviously taken to reveal the players’ hidden tendencies.
Mint got out of the shower and picked up a towel. Yes, she was certain that even the rather harmless picture of Sasha looking at one of the Galloways was intended to point out a desire unknown to the public.
She still couldn’t believe how she had gotten the pictures. Ted Curry. On a balcony. It was ridiculous. Had he taken the pictures all by himself? Mint had a hard time imagining Ted waiting in the early morning for players to come back from the Wimbledon Winners Ball. Or following the players around to finally catch them in a dark corner. He didn’t seem the type to do that. In a few cases, she had figured out that the pictures were taken at WTA tournaments and concluded that Ted couldn’t have possibly been there. It was more likely he would have had someone do it for him. But why was he there on the balcony that night in New York? He must have found out about Mint and Chili and must have tried to get photos of them that night. It seemed the only good explanation for this weird encounter. However, she couldn’t remember if he had had a camera with him that night.
Mint shook her head and began to dress. What did Ted want with these pictures? She could think of only two possibilities. Either he wanted to jerk off to the pictures or he intended to blackmail the players. In the first case, Mint wondered why there were male players’ in the pictures. Was Ted bisexual? She almost laughed at this thought. He seemed a bit oversexed sometimes and it would shed a totally different light on the whole thing with Felicia and Amanda, Mint thought. It was funny to think of Amanda as part of a threesome. Then again there were these pictures of Amanda and Elise in Wimbledon. They were not exactly jerk-off material. Mint had taken a long look at them herself. They were not overly sexual. In fact, they looked more like movie stills. Two people completely absorbed in each other.
So it must be the latter. Blackmail. Mint shuddered. But why? Why would Ted do that? He didn’t need money and he didn’t need to buy wins against any other player. Besides, why would there be pictures of the girls? It didn’t make sense.
Mint shouldered her bag and headed outside. Whatever Ted was up to, if these were the only copies of the pictures, she was glad she had them. She wouldn’t blackmail her fellow players. Just have a little fun with them. She chuckled.
Just as she left the building someone called out to her. Mint turned around, surprised to see Polly Duke running after her. Mint had never had much to do with the Canadian player, but she secretly admired her. Polly had short hair and always wore shorts instead of skirts, something Mint would have loved to do but didn’t dare.
“Mint,” she yelled, catching up. “I wanted to ask you if you’d want to play doubles with me. The deadline is in two hours and I thought you might be free as Chili is not playing here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Polly,” Mint answered. “I’ve already teamed up with Natsumi.” Since Tokyo Natsumi and Mint had been hanging out more frequently and for Luxembourg they had decided to play doubles.
Polly looked disappointed. She wasn’t very highly ranked in singles and playing doubles at tournaments helped her gain a few extra bucks. The Canadian was about to turn away, when a voice made them both jump.
>
“Perhaps you want to play with me?” To the surprise of both girls, Bernadette LeBlanc stepped out of the shadows of a doorway. She was also Canadian, and now Mint remembered that the older player’s doubles partner had been injured during practice two days ago. Bernadette didn’t play singles anymore, so she needed to find a new partner for the tournament. Mint nodded to Polly for encouragement, but the younger Canadian already had made up her mind. Bernadette was a very doubles specialist and with her Polly Duke was likely to get a better result than with Mint. Polly agreed.
***
For the thousandth time in what must have been only five minutes, Carina Gnocchi looked outside the window of the small restaurant and sighed loudly.
“You want to talk about it?” Stephanie looked at Carina annoyed by the blatant attention seeking. From the corner of her eye she could see Elise and Angela chuckle. The No. 1 shrugged.
“This must be the most boring place on earth,” she answered. “Especially, if you come here year in, year out like I do. I shouldn’t be here at all.”
Everybody understood what Carina was implying. The Year End Championships were starting soon and she wanted to do her best there. She should be preparing for it right now. Instead she was stuck at such a small, insignificant tournament in Luxembourg. She sighed again.
“But here I am, because it is so close to my hometown and people expect me to win this little tournament.”
“Don’t you forget mentioning a little matter called the appearance fee?” Antonia remarked. Carina looked up. She seemed shocked.
“Is that jealousy speaking?” She looked around. “No offense, girls. But if you had qualified for the Year End Championships, you would think like me.”
Nobody said anything. Their fellow German’s arrogance stirred up a deep discomfort in the rest of the group. What a stupid idea, Stephanie thought, to offer her to come along for lunch. Obviously Carina wasn’t only the No. 1 in tennis but a No. 1 party pooper as well.
