“Maybe.” Michi’s arms dropped away, and she poured more wine into Viva’s glass. “Don’t argue,” she said when Viva opened her mouth to protest. “You have at least four days before your next match. Two glasses won’t kill you.”
“I could text her.” Her phone sat on the countertop, shiny and tempting, like chocolate before bedtime.
“And what could you possibly say at this point that could make it better?”
“Sorry? I miss you? I want you?”
Brett cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go and change before we go out to eat.”
“Poor boy.” Michi’s fond glance took in his departing back. “We’ve made him uncomfortable.”
Viva wrinkled her nose. “What, by talking about lust between women?”
“Hardly. He’s well aware I’ve been there, done that, and got the pink T-shirt. No, I think he’s being tactful, in case you want to talk to me by myself. Do you?”
“I don’t know what I want, Mich. Well, I do—I want Gabriela. But she doesn’t want me, and really, what else could she do? Look how she’s been sidelined because of me so far. I haven’t been good for her.” The phone sat at the edge of her vision. She reached for it.
“Put the phone down and no one will get hurt.”
Viva laughed and laid the phone back down. “Maybe I need to find someone else. A date. A one-night stand.”
“Is that what you want, because if you do, I know someone who would love to go out with you.”
“No.” She cut a slice of cheese and paired it with a cracker. “Another time, maybe.”
Michi took the titbit from her fingers. “Mine, I think. You know blue cheese is my favourite. You’re not interested in who wants to date you?”
“Honestly? Not really. Not now. The only woman I want to date is off limits.”
“Okay. My lips are sealed. But if you’re pining that badly, I don’t think you should walk away from Gabriela. Oh, you can’t really do anything now, but after the Australian Open, maybe. If you’re serious, show her you are. You go, girl.”
The phone kept tugging her vision, but she resisted. “Enough about me. Go and rescue Brett from the bedroom, and we’ll go out to dinner. After all, we have to celebrate Michi Cleaver, Brisbane International quarterfinalist and, if my calculation is correct, the new world number thirty-five!”
It had been easy when the three of them were laughing over dinner, dropping sushi from their chopsticks into the soy sauce and then eating with their fingers. Easy to play the light-hearted tennis star when she and Michi were recognised and approached for autographs. Easy to relax in an open-air café by the river and gaze up at the Southern Cross and the swathe of stars that shone through, even with city lights. It had been easy to forget about Gabriela then.
But back in her apartment, alone in her bed, in the slight haze of three glasses of wine, Viva remembered.
Gabriela’s way of tilting her head as she listened. Her full-throated laugh, her smooth skin, darker from the sun on her arms and legs, the rest of her a pale olive. Her keen interest in trying new things. The way she listened so intently, with her complete attention. Her total immersion in what they did to each other in bed. The noise she made as she came.
Viva rolled onto her stomach and pressed her head to the pillow. The bed was huge and she was lonely.
Moving to the edge, she picked up her phone and opened a text message. She shouldn’t do this. Gabriela had made it clear she couldn’t have anything more to do with her.
I miss you, she texted. Can we meet for coffee sometime? Anywhere you want. I would like to explain. Clutching the phone to her chest, she rolled onto her back. Explain what? What could she say that hadn’t already been said? The city lights of Brisbane traffic made wild patterns on the ceiling. I’m sorry. She threw the phone down on the bed. She shouldn’t send the text. But, she argued to herself, how could a text make things worse than they already were? If Gabriela did not answer, she would not text again.
She picked up the phone again and pressed Send before she could talk herself out of it.
Alina won her semifinal easily and would play the number four seed in the final. Viva dropped her headset down with a sigh and grinned at Andrew. “That’s me done until tomorrow.”
“Doing anything exciting with the rest of your day?”
“Not really. Meeting my brother for lunch.”
Jack was waiting in the players’ café when she entered. She kissed his cheek and sat down, staring out across the mostly empty courts. At this stage, the day before finals, most players had already moved on to their next tournament.
“About time you got here,” Jack grumbled.
“You know the match has not long ended. After all, you were watching it—thanks to your kind sister, who got you the tickets.”
“It was a good match.” Jack brightened. “But what took you so long to come from the commentary box to here?”
“I stopped to see if a friend wanted to join us for lunch.”
“Another of your weird friends?”
“She’s as normal as they come in the tennis world. She should be here— Ah! Here she is. Hi, Jelena.”
Jelena Kovic slid gracefully into the vacant seat. “Viva, how is life treating you? I heard your commentary on the semifinal. It must have seared your tongue being so complimentary about Alina’s game.”
“Not really. Her game is good. Jelena, I’d like you to meet my brother, Jack.”
“Nice to meet you, Jack. I have heard a bit about you.” She held out her hand, which Jack took in a bemused fashion.
“If it’s from my wicked sister, it’s not true.”
Jelena’s eyes opened wide. “So, you are not a nice, hardworking guy who is fun to hang out with?” She turned to Viva. “Do you have another brother?”
“Nope. Just this idiot.”
“Well, thanks, sis. That’s my good impression shot down in flames before I’ve started.”
“Not necessarily.” Viva turned to Jelena. “It struck me that Jack could be the solution to your current need. If you’re happy to have lunch with him, I’ll leave the two of you alone. He has my recommendation for what it’s worth, but if you’re not comfortable, then no pressure.”
At Jelena’s nod, she stood and bent to kiss her cheek. “See you later, then.” She stepped around the table to hug Jack.
“What’s going on?” he whispered.
“Nothing. I’m just making good on a promise.”
“To me or to Jelena?” he grumbled but sat back down.
As Viva left, she heard Jelena say, “So, Jack, you are in the Matrix. Red pill or blue pill?”
Chapter 17
“Have you seen the draw?” Michi’s voice hummed down the line. “I bet you haven’t. I’ll wait while you look.”
Viva brought up the Sydney tournament website. “From your voice, you’ve got a good draw.”
“Yes, the first match at least. You never know, though. Check yours.”
Viva scrolled down the draw. “You got a qualifier in the first round.”
“Yup. I have a good feeling about this tournament.”
“Oh no.” Viva’s wail came from deep within. “The world hates me. Alina Pashin. Of all the people to get in the first round.”
“That’s not the way to look at it. Just because she beat you the last time you played—”
“And the time before and the time before that, practically back to the dawn of time.”
“Time for a change, then.” Michi’s voice was bright and airy.
“All very well for you to say. I have an interview for Play Tennis magazine this morning. How am I supposed to be positive about my chances with this draw?”
“Fake it ’til you make it, girlfriend.”
“Neither of us has a match tomorrow. Want to practice away from
the tournament courts? I’m fed up with the press.”
“Sure. You got anywhere in mind?”
“There’s decent tennis club at Coogee. I’ll see if I can get us a court. Afterwards, there’s a bonus cliff-top walk as a cool-down.”
“Striding over cliffs doesn’t sound like a cool-down.”
“You don’t know the winds around here. I’ll book the court and let Deepak know. We may as well do the full training session there.”
The next morning, she met Michi at the Coogee courts. Deepak arrived shortly after and claimed Viva to go through a set of drills and footwork exercises, followed by work on her serve.
They sat in the shade together, waiting for Michi and Brett to finish a similar coaching session.
“Michi has made the leap to the next level.” Deepak nodded to where Michi was smashing back lobs that Brett sent her way. “That moment where it all clicks and comes together. Confidence soars. She probably feels invincible right now.”
“That was how it was for me, right before I won the US Open.” That had been one of the best days of her life.
Deepak’s shrewd gaze assessed her. “You could still win a doubles trophy. But not singles, Viva. The game is too hard, too fast.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I’ll have to live vicariously through Michi’s success.”
“It will come to her, that one.” He stood. “Now, when you hit with her, I want you to come in as much as you can. You’ll need to do that against Alina, or she’ll just hammer you off the court. Michi’s game isn’t as powerful as Alina’s, but use this practice to reinforce your game plan.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll watch. I’ll call you later.”
Impulsively, she hugged him. “Thank you, Deepak. You really are the best.”
He hugged her back, one-armed. “Remember, serve and volley. Channel Martina Navratilova.”
“I wish.” Viva sighed and then jogged out to where Michi waited.
She and Michi rallied back and forth for a few minutes, easing into each other’s game.
Michi stepped up the level and sliced a wicked angle to Viva’s backhand.
Viva grunted as she lunged for it but couldn’t return the ball. “Nice shot. But you’re supposed to take it easy on me.”
“That’s not what Deepak said.” Michi collected balls and returned to the service line. “Prepare to receive, Jones.”
Without the height advantage of other players, Michi nevertheless had a pop on her serve and a high-bouncing kick that sent the ball spinning high out of reach.
“Do that again,” Viva said. She settled into a receiver’s crouch, trying to read Michi’s body language. This time, she was able to drive the return back down the line.
As she went out to the side to collect balls, the game two courts over caught her attention. Two women rallied with the effortless ease of a pendulum, obviously trying to keep the ball in play rather than win any serious point. The woman facing Viva was older, with the weathered skin of an avid outdoorswoman. But it was the other woman who held her attention. Viva’s steps slowed. She knew that economical movement, the contained, controlled strokes, and tidy play. Her gaze followed Gabriela’s quick steps around the court, her precision-perfect swing as she returned the ball. Backhand, forehand, a step to each side in succession, the balls looping over the net, heavy topspin making them drop down at the opponent’s feet.
Her throat tightened, and she blinked furiously. Dear God, why do I miss her so much?
“Hey.” Michi jogged up. “Change ends. Before your eyes fall out,” she added in softer tones.
Viva turned back to her own court. “Was I that obvious?”
“To me, yes. Deepak too.” Michi jerked a thumb to where Deepak sat with a frown on his face, watching them. “Probably not to anyone else.”
“I wonder who she’s playing with?” Jealousy twisted like a poker.
Michi shot a glance to the other court. “I’ve seen her before somewhere. An official probably.” She cleared her throat. “So, shall we play a set? Loser buys dinner tonight.”
“I should just hand over my credit card to you now.” Viva forced her feet to carry her to the other end of the court. “The way you’re playing, I haven’t a hope.”
“What? Queensland’s golden girl throwing in the towel just like that?” She snorted. “Shall I call Alina and tell her she only needs to show up to beat you?”
Concentration. Focus. Key attributes of any successful player. Deepak’s words ran through her head. His fierce glare from the sidelines was reinforcement. She squared her shoulders. She could beat Alina. And if she did, she could probably go deep in the draw. She’d made her choice; now it was up to her to make something of this farewell tour. And beating Michi in a practice set would be a start.
She grinned at Michi. “I take it back. You’ll be buying me dinner tonight.”
“What does one wear to a players’ party anyway?” Jack’s voice echoed down the line. “Is it jeans or a penguin suit?”
“Like you even own a dinner suit,” Viva teased. “You’re going to be in the spotlight, so try and look nice. Trendy even. Good jeans and an open-neck shirt should do it. Did Jelena tell you what she’s wearing?”
“She said a turquoise dress.”
“Keep that in mind when you pick your shirt, then. You have to pose for a photo together when you arrive, so you don’t want to clash with her.”
“Okay. What about shoes?”
She sighed impatiently. “Did you bring a choice?”
“No. Only my charcoal loafers, but I’ve still got time to go and buy something.”
“My tight-arse brother spend money?”
“Viva, cut it out. This is important. Did Jelena tell you why she needs a male date tonight? I can’t let her down.”
Viva sobered. “She did. And while I don’t agree with it, her sponsor has her over a barrel. You’re a good man, Jack, going along with this.”
He snorted. “The sportswear company has lost this customer over their stance. In this day and age, telling Jelena that they’ll cease their sponsorship if she’s seen with a same-sex partner is bloody ridiculous.”
“Like you ever wore their tennis shirts in the first place! But thank you. I appreciate the support, and I know Jelena does. She only has one sponsor. If she loses them, she would barely be able to support herself on the tour.”
“One day, she’ll be top ten. Then I hope she tells them where to go.”
“I hope so too.”
“I like Jelena, I really do. I know you think I’ve got some creepy ulterior motive, but it’s not like that. Sure, if she were straight and unattached, I’d try and date her for real, but I genuinely like her. She’s great fun to be with. We hung out together in Brisbane that night, after you introduced us. Mainly to see if we felt comfortable enough to carry off the pretence, but we had a lot of fun. She introduced me to her girlfriend. Marissa’s less enthused with the whole idea, but she realises Jelena has to do this—at least for now.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you at the party.”
“Who are you going with?”
“Michi. Brett has had enough players’ parties to last a lifetime. He plans a Game of Thrones marathon in their hotel room.”
“I wonder if he wants company later?”
“Nope. Michi will be back then, and you’d be the third wheel.”
“Then I’ll just have to go on the town with my dear sister.”
“Don’t force yourself. Besides, I’ll be tucked up in bed by nine.”
“Then I hope you’ll hang out with Jelena and me at the party. It will add an authentic touch to our supposed budding romance.”
“Don’t push it.”
“So, do you think I’ll get away with black jeans, loafers, and a silver-grey shirt?”
>
The sincerity in his voice touched her. “You’ll look as good as you’re going to get.”
Gabriela checked her email, looking for her match allocations for the Sydney tournament. Qualifiers, a few minor seeds in the first round, but at least she had been given a semifinal as chair umpire. She bit her lip. Was the ITF still penalising her?
Her gaze marched down the list of familiar players in the draw. She told herself she wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, just generally to see which matches could be difficult from an official’s point of view, but as her glance jumped and skittered from name to name, she gave up the pretence. Whom had Viva drawn? Was it an easy draw, a young and nervous qualifier, a veteran nearing the end of her career, or had she the misfortune of drawing a seeded player?
She found Viva’s name in the final quarter of the draw. Gabriela frowned: it could hardly be worse. Alina Pashin was a tough opponent at any time and in this tournament was the number two seed.
Gabriela made herself continue to the end of the draw. Viva was not her business. If she lost in the first round, well, she simply hadn’t played well enough. That was all it was; no more, no less. But as she closed the email, a sliver of the disappointment that Viva was surely feeling lodged in her chest. It would be a difficult farewell tour if she was eliminated in the first round. And it wouldn’t bode well for her chances in the grand slam event later in the month—Viva’s final tournament as a professional singles player.
Ha. Gabriela huffed a breath. Unless some other offer came thudding in to tempt Viva to remain on the tour for longer. Not for the first time, her conversation with Viva slid into her mind. Had she been fair, walking out on Viva as she did? Each time, the answer was the same: she could not honestly have done any different, not if she wanted to keep her career. But could she have been more understanding? Viva and she… Well, they had been lovers, possibly girlfriends. If not then, well, they had been on the way to such a relationship. Viva had said they could put the relationship on hold until after the Australian Open. One month. That was not long in the grand scheme of things.
Code of Conduct Page 17
