by M. B. Gerard
Elise gasped in shock. She couldn’t believe that someone had taken a picture of such an intimate moment. She couldn’t remember anyone being there. And hadn’t it been about six in the morning? It looked like someone had followed them. It was a scary thought. She took out her phone from her pocket and looked for Amanda’s number before realizing that it was the middle of the night in Moscow, where Amanda was playing her tournament. It would be reckless to wake the Australian and worry her before her match. Elise put down the phone. She would have to wait until after Amanda’s match. Who had taken the picture, she wondered again. Brushing over the soft photo material she took a closer look at herself and Amanda.
It was a fabulous shot. Embracing each other and kissing with closed eyes, Amanda and Elise looked adorable together. Even though it felt awkward to think that someone had not only seen them but had taken advantage of the situation by taking photos, she had to admit that she liked the picture. She smiled. Only actors in romantic scenes had their picture taken in such a moment. And here they were in one of those classic happy ending movie stills. Looking gorgeous. Looking as if they were made for each other. She suddenly felt the need to send Amanda the picture. Not to worry her with the news that an anonymous stranger had taken pictures of them, but because they looked so beautiful together and she wanted Amanda to see it, too. In fact, she wanted everyone to see it. They really looked like two people in a movie. In the same moment she realized that only in her eyes did they look gorgeous. How many people would be appalled by the sight? How many would start calling her names?
They would only ever kiss behind hedges or in hotel rooms hidden away from the world. No, they would never be like movie stars. They would never take centre stage together. A big disappointment rose in her. Why hide such a thing of beauty? She didn’t want to hide it. But as always when she had to face disappointment, her anger about it was even stronger. Elise clenched her fists, wrinkling the edges of the photo. Then she got up and left the room to go to the city and buy a frame.
Istanbul, Turkey
Somewhere outside a muezzin was calling for prayer as Sasha checked her watch. The singing had woken her up during the night and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep again. It wasn’t the jetlag this time. She had started worrying again about the picture with herself and the Galloway twin and only three hours later had she fallen into a fitful sleep.
While lying awake she had made a decision and after getting up in the morning had called Jaro. He was in training in Great Britain but had promised to call her back as soon as he got out of the shower. She checked her watch again. What time was it in Britain? She walked to the window and looked outside. The Bosporus looked like a wide grey ocean, bleak and cold. Sasha shivered. When her telephone rang she jumped, but picked it up immediately.
“What took you so long?” she snapped, but then reminded herself that she needed Jaro. “Listen,” she purred. “I told you about this photo print I received. I think I know who took it.”
Jaro was listening. When Sasha had first told him about the picture he had not taken it seriously but had understood that it could become an issue for himself, too. If Sasha’s gay rumors surfaced again, doubts about his own sexuality would be reinforced.
“I’m not hundred percent sure, however,” Sasha continued. “We need to follow him and find out.”
“We?” Sasha could hear Jaro smile.
“Well, I have to play some tennis, of course,” she grinned. “But after that I will help you!”
Over the last couple of months they had become good friends and confidants, respectful of each other’s efforts in their respective sports. The marriage proposal had put Sasha off in the beginning, but she was willing to reconsider it.
“I’ll take the next flight to Istanbul,” Jaro offered. “Send me a picture of this guy, so I can study his face.”
Sasha agreed and hung up. During the players’ party last night she had taken a picture of Tom Richardson with her cell phone which she now immediately forwarded to Jaro. She checked her watch again. Only thirty minutes until she would meet her team for the pre-match practice session. Her racquet bag was already packed but she checked it another time. Just when she was about to shoulder it, her phone rang again. It was Jaro.
“I’ve met this guy,” he blurted out. “When I visited you in Rome I went to this gay bar. He was there. We had a little chat in the bathroom over some band aid?”
“You had a chat over a band aid?” Sasha was confused. “Is that some code for something gay guys do in public bathrooms?”
Jaro laughed.
“No, he was actually being very nice,” he admitted thinking back to the encounter, but then he became serious. “He might have recognized me though.”
“I dare say you are right,” Sasha nodded gravely. “He is one of the media guys and he must have seen us around the tournament site or taken pictures of us during the party. Also, he is British and probably knows a good deal about football. So when he saw you in the gay club he must have come to the conclusion that there was something false about our relationship.”
She sighed. There was no use blaming Jaro for being incautious. Instead they had to do something.
“Don’t come to the hotel,” she said. “Come to the courts. We’ll meet right after my match.”
They hung up and Sasha stuffed the phone into her pocket. She was late already. Picking up her bags she remembered something. She went back to the bedside and opened her travel case that lay on the floor next to the night stand. On top of her laptop was the brown envelope that was causing so much disconcertment. She grabbed it and put it into her racquet bag to later show to Jaro.
***
“Lynn, wait!”
Agnes, Monica and Candice Crantz were sprinting through the corridor waving at the umpire, who had turned around. When they reached Lynn Pebblestone Agnes motioned for her to come closer.
“We just wanted to tell you the location of our party,” Agnes said in a low voice. “We will be at Club Zara tonight and will have one room to ourselves.”
“Club Zara?” Lynn Pebblestone frowned. “Will there be dancers?”
“Yes, of course” Monica said matter-of-factly. “It’s a dance club. Everybody will be dancing. Even chair umpires. But none of you is obliged to undress. We hired people to do that for us.”
“Plus, there will be a little award ceremony for the winner of Love Game,” Agnes winked at Lynn.
“Yes,” Monica purred. “A fantastic award. Hand-picked by the three of us!”
“A potted plant no doubt?”
“Yes, something useful for the British gardener,” Monica grinned at Lynn.
“Sounds promising,” the chair umpire whispered. Candice laughed. It was no secret that Lynn would receive the award for winning the Love Game this year. She was the only one who had correctly picked Amanda and Elise as a couple.
“We will also present a little treat to our couple of the year,” Agnes said.
“I will tell the others,” Lynn winked, before walking down the hallway.
Agnes turned around to Candice. “Who else is on the list?”
Candice pulled out a notepad, checking the names. The list wasn’t very long as there were only a few players in Istanbul – the best eight singles players and the best four doubles teams. The party was invitation only and there would be players, umpires and other staff members Agnes, Monica and Candice called their friends present.
“Antonia and Martina. I saw them on their way to the practice courts. And we still have to tell Natsumi. She must be at the courts as well.”
“I tried to talk to Antonia and Martina yesterday,” Agnes said. “But they were all snappy and grumpy and left before I could tell them about the party.”
Candice shrugged. “Girl drama?”
“Looks like it. Maybe we should talk to them,” Agnes wondered.
Monica rolled her eyes. She had set them up almost a year ago and in her opinion they made a lovely couple, but th
eir quick-tempered natures certainly made for a bumpy ride sometimes.
“They’ll get over it,” she said. “It’s probably just the long season and a vacation will do wonders.”
“Guess you’re right,” Agnes replied to her doubles partner. “Well, let’s get the party started. I think I will take my laptop and convince the DJ to play some French music. I really have some good tunes on it.”
Monica and Candice looked at each other in despair. The only good thing about the French chansons Agnes listened to was the fact, that neither Monica nor Candice understood a word of the lyrics.
***
She had been unable to concentrate. Her balls had gone wide or into the net. Once she shanked the ball into the packed stands much to the entertainment of the crowd. They had expected a different match and a different outcome. But after almost two hours there was only one winner and it wasn’t her.
Sasha sighed and stepped into the shower for a quick refreshment. Amanda Auster would be pleased with herself as it was her second win against Sasha. She probably believed that now she had Sasha’s number. The loss hurt her but it didn’t surprise her. Her mind was somewhere else, sneaking around imaginary corners looking for Tom. She hadn’t seen him today and her plan was to wait with Jaro outside the staff entrance. Tom had to come out eventually.
As soon as she had left the court she had called Jaro. He was on his way and would be ready to pick her up outside the arena in twenty minutes. They would follow Tom, corner him, and eventually make him admit that he was behind the picture. She also wanted to know what his plans were. If necessary Jaro would threaten Tom into giving them the files. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning the whole fuss would have gone up in smoke and she would be able concentrate on the tennis again.
Sasha turned off the faucets and wrapped herself in the big towel, when all of a sudden someone banged loudly against the shower door.
“What the hell?” Sasha grabbed her shampoo and opened the door.
To her surprise it was Antonia and Martina looking back at her. Even more startling was the fact that Martina was waving the brown envelope in her hand. She must have taken it from Sasha’s bag.
“What are you doing?” Sasha couldn’t believe that the two had gone through her things. “Give that back!” She tried to grab the envelope but Martina had pulled it back.
“We also got a picture,” the Argentine blurted out. “Someone slipped it under the hotel room door.”
“Did someone contact you? Are you being blackmailed?” Antonia anxiously added, grabbing Sasha by the shoulders.
“What? No!” Sasha answered flabbergasted, freeing herself from Antonia’s grip.
Her thoughts were racing. She had successfully fended off any rumors about herself, she had been pretending to be in a relationship with Jaro for over a year now and she had kept her distance from the other gay girls on tour to prevent the rumors from surfacing again. But there seemed no way to brazen it out now. Antonia and Martina looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Martina was still holding the brown envelope.
“Well, there seems to be someone who likes taking pictures of me,” she said with a shrug.
“The picture is implying that you have a thing for girls,” Antonia said slowly. “Don’t you want to know who it is?”
Sasha smiled wryly. Antonia and Martina apparently had no idea who had taken the picture. Should she tell them? A thought formed in her head. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to get supporters. Given Antonia’s and Martina’s hot tempers they could be the front pigs. No need to put herself out there and risk her charade with Jaro.
“I actually do know who it is,” Sasha revealed. Antonia and Martina gasped.
“Tell us!”
Without a word, Sasha walked to her locker and started to get dressed. She could feel the couple’s eyes on her back. When she finished dressing she turned around.
“Why don’t you come with me?” Sasha said calmly, then she shouldered her bag and left the room, followed by a surprised Antonia and Martina.
***
It started to swell instantly. Her breath still short, Lulu continued staring at her ankle, barely hearing the murmur of the crowd around her. She couldn’t even say if it hurt or not. The evidence was just there growing bigger and bigger. She had sprained her ankle.
She hobbled back to the chair and soon after the trainer arrived to check the damage.
“When Morgana hit the return into my backhand corner, I wanted to run around my backhand to hit a forehand, but I didn’t have enough time and then I slid and lost my balance.”
“Does it feel like it cracked?” The trainer looked up at her and Lulu nodded. Oh, how she hated this look, compassionate and grave. She looked away, tears were forming in her eyes. The violet and green paint of the court, the lights on the ceiling of the arena all blurred. A few minutes before, she was still there. Playing, running, hitting forehands and backhands.
“No. I didn’t hear anything. I twisted it and the pain made me fall down. That’s pretty much it.”
A voice came up on her left. Instinctively, Lulu looked up and stared at the chair umpire who wanted to know what to do, what to say. Things were so obvious though.
“I can tape it, of course, and you can give it a try and see if it holds up but I suggest you have it checked as soon as possible. It could be only twisted, sprained but there’s also a chance of a small fracture. It’s risky to play.”
Damn. Of all the tournaments, she had to get injured during the Year End Championships. Heavily, Luelly shook her head then bit her lower lip before mumbling to herself.
“Then I had better stop,” she mumbled, still unsure if that was the right decision. It was devastating and heartbreaking. The only positive thing in all this was that it was happening at the end of the season. Thank God it left her time to recover without missing any other tournament. That and the draw. Her next match would have been against Sasha who had just been beaten by Amanda again and that wasn’t a match Lulu had been looking forward to. And if the bad record she had against Sasha wasn’t enough, with her loss against Amanda the Czech player was up against the wall. A win against Lulu was a must, which made her even tougher to play.
What would have been Lulu’s chances in such a match? Almost none unless Gabriella had played for her. Her sister’s game gave Sasha huge problems, but it was futile to think about it as they didn’t switch matches anymore.
Looking up at the chair umpire and standing up unsteadily, Lulu nodded. “I cannot go on. I must retire.”
Leaving her racquet bag and her belongings behind her, Lulu made it to the net and shook the French player’s hand under the crowd’s murmur. Morgana looked genuinely sorry and sad. It wasn’t the way a player wants to win a match.
“You’ll have other opportunities,” Morgana said. “See you next year. Get well soon.”
Forcing a smile from her lips, Lulu nodded, wrapped up in mixed feelings. “Merci.”
From the corner of her eye she could see her coach and Gabriella get up and leave the player’s box. Despite all the arguments her sister and she had had over the past months, despite the distance that had grown between them since Wimbledon, Gabriella was her twin, her likeness. Luella could tell from the worried look on Gabriella’s face that she felt the pain as if it was her own. That was more comfort than any painkiller could offer. Luella knew that nothing would ever come between them.
***
Amanda checked her watch. The club had filled rapidly and by now the separate room Candice had booked for the party was packed. The noise of excited chatter drowned out the music and the clink of glasses promised an eventful night. She felt Elise’s hand touching her lower back and looked up.
“I heard there will be an award show,” Elise whispered in her ear. “They mentioned our names.”
She looked excited. It was the first time she had been at the YEC award party.
“Really? Maybe the Couple of the Year Award?” Amanda laughed. “I’ve never won
that one before.”
“Did you win others?”
“The award for Friendliest Player two years ago,” Amanda smiled. “It’s awarded by the linespeople and ballkids.”
Elise looked at Amanda. It was no surprise Amanda would win such an award. Elise laid her arm around Amanda’s hip and drew her girlfriend closer.
When Agnes and Candice took the stage the music was turned off and the buzzing died down. While Agnes stepped behind the DJ desk, Candice took the microphone and everyone looked up at her in thrilled anticipation. After an entertaining introduction, which set the mood for the show, she finally got to the award ceremony. Beginning with the award for Worst Challenge, Agnes played a video sequence of the nominated challenges much to the delight of the crowd. It was no surprise that the award went to Yelena Kovalenko for the third consecutive year. It was followed by the award for Best Tantrum which went to absent Sasha Mrachova for her infamous rant against Anastasia Stea. The chair umpire received a loud applause from the crowd instead.
After the awards for Friendliest Player, Most Infamous Quote and Most Entertaining Tennis Dress had been announced, Candice paused dramatically.
“We now come to the most anticipated categories,” she said solemnly. “Let’s crown the Couple of the Year and the Queen of the Love Game.”
Loud cheering erupted and heads turned around to look in Elise’s and Amanda’s direction. Amanda felt that she was blushing, even more so when Elise placed her hands around her hip. Being rewarded for your achievements on the tennis court was one thing, she thought. But receiving an award for being happy was a bit hilarious. She hoped they wouldn’t get the prize. What should she say on the stage? She didn’t want to say anything. But before she could rack her head, their names were announced and a beaming Elise was dragging Amanda through the applause to the stage. Elise’s excitement died down slightly when Candice handed her the nicely wrapped potted plant.
