by Lola Keeley
“Wait, you’re not—”
“No!” I interrupted Toni, not wanting Celeste to know I’d been thinking about leaving the game for good. “I’m just doing a whole targeted thing for this season. Focus on the slams. My mother’s idea.”
“Well, if Britta has a plan…” Celeste said. “We’ll miss you out there, but not the competition.”
“Gotta go,” I replied. My phone had vibrated before I made it to the exit.
Sure you’re okay?
Toni’s text was predictable in a way that made my heart skip just a little. I should have known she wouldn’t accept a non-answer like that.
Definitely okay. It really is my mother’s plan.
I put my phone away until I had made it to the car that was waiting for me, the driver ready to take me to the airport. Parisa and my mother had flown out right after I lost, taking care of most of my luggage in the process. This whole travelling-light thing was starting to grow on me.
But is it political? Some kind of human rights thing? Gay rights?
That was my back-pocket excuse for not going, but I didn’t think it would fly with having played there often enough in recent years. It almost reminded me of another pressing conversation waiting for me when I made it back to the States.
Partly. I need more breaks, like the one we had in Mexico. No serious tennis for me until Indian Wells. You?
I was halfway to the airport before she replied.
I’m playing Qatar, then back for the Mexican Open. Let me know if you get bored with all that free time, I can probably score you some tickets.
The offer, and what it meant for us being back on good terms, was everything I’d wanted to hear. I’d hear about it from Parisa, and from my mother, but I was already mentally blocking out that week to travel down to Acapulco.
Might take you up on that.
I willed myself to switch the phone off, so as to not get dragged into another round of reading too much into her words. If I was going to get myself on track for retiring, the last thing I needed was a romantic distraction. Not that it would even get romantic, probably. Toni might not even be interested in that kind of thing; we’d only just cleared up she wasn’t dating Xavi.
I pulled the book I’d been getting lost in from my purse and read it the rest of the way to the airport.
“So you want me to ask Sean—who I broke up with three months ago, by the way—to sneak out confidential medical data on all the female players?”
Parisa stared at me over her Niçoise salad as she summarised what I’d just asked of her. I nodded in confirmation and she took a long sip of her Diet Coke.
“One of these days you’re going to ask me for a cool favour,” Parisa continued. “Like, ‘hey Parisa, my six friends and I are going to rob the Met Gala, but we need a lucky eighth person to smuggle the diamonds out. You in?’ And I’ll say, ‘Sure, Elin, it beats arranging your travel plans for Indian Wells. Why not?’”
“Are you done being dramatic? And okay, so you broke up. Are you telling me the poor guy isn’t still in love with you?”
Parisa raised an eyebrow at that, but she didn’t deny it. She picked at her salad a little longer, feet up on the desk in my home office. I sat behind it, like I had a real job or something.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can find out. But please don’t do anything that gives me a PR headache. Pass it off to someone actually affected. Nobody needs a white-saviour routine here.”
“Agreed.” I flipped the television on using the remote I didn’t entirely recognise. “Any idea where I can watch the Qatar matches?”
“Keeping an eye on Celeste? Or has someone else caught your attention? I see things, you know. Obvious things. Antonia-shaped things.”
“Not now, okay? Am I all done with signing and saying yes to stuff for today? I wanted to go catch Alice at the gallery before she disappears for the day.”
“Sure she wants to see you?” Parisa asked, and it was a fair question.
“She’s my sister,” I said with a shrug. “If I want to make things right with her, she’s just going to have to put up with it.”
“With an approach like that, I don’t see how it could go wrong,” Parisa replied, completely deadpan. “Take the nice car; Alice much prefers the convertible.”
“Thanks for the tip. You’ll text me when you hear something from Sean?”
“Already on the case.”
“This is why you’re the best, P.” I kissed her on the cheek as I grabbed my keys and headed out. We’d have to talk soon, about what my changed plans were going to mean for her and her career, but having already broken it to my mother, I was holding off on telling everyone else.
The sun was shining, and my car purred like a contented tiger as I backed it out of the gates, ready for the open road. Sure, Los Angeles traffic would have me crawling in no time, but for a moment it felt like I could just put my foot down and soar.
That kind of mood? No way would Alice hold out on me. We were as good as reconciled.
It took three hours to even get her to talk to me. She had clients in for a private viewing at the gallery, which I respected. Then when I returned after their appointment she had suddenly disappeared for ‘supplies.’ Only when I tracked her down to the coffee shop across the street did Alice finally relent.
“What is it, Elin? I’m in the middle of a busy day.”
“Yeah, ducking out mid-afternoon for a flat white screams ‘slammed.’”
“Oh, sit down. And shut up.”
I sat opposite her, the chair a little uneven beneath me. “Alice, listen—”
“If this is another round of excuses, save your breath,” Alice warned me. “I would never force anyone to come out, but your excuses are just that: excuses. You have all the support, money, and protection you could ever need. You won’t lose your job. So anything you do at this point is a choice.”
“You’re right.” It felt good to let that one finally drop. “I’ve been a coward. Most of my sponsors would still grab at the whole LGBTQ thing anyway, because it makes them look good. Maybe I’d skip a few smaller tournaments, like I’m doing right now. But ultimately, yes, Elin Larsson—the brand and the person—can survive coming out.”
“Why change your tune now?” Alice was right to be suspicious. In a way, I did have selfish intentions.
We’d never looked less alike. She had her hair dyed a coppery red and cut into a short, flicked-up style. I’d never tried anything so stylish. While I was quite happy in my jeans and a simple white shirt, she looked flawless in a pinstriped jumpsuit and heels.
“I’m tired of being so careful,” I said. “Of missing out on meeting great women because everyone assumes I’m straight. Of watching my pronouns and never confirming anything. I can’t tell you the last time I went on a proper date. I…I want that to change.”
“Good. Now who’s the little floozy who’s finally turned your head?”
“Alice!”
“No wait, I know. It’s that hot one who called you a goddess. Then you beat her and… I don’t think I know what happened after that?”
She flagged down the waiter and ordered a fresh coffee. I added an iced tea for myself.
“Well, if you hadn’t been sulking with me, you’d know we went to Mexico together, stayed with her family.”
“Elin, that’s so not like you.”
I watched a couple outside on the sidewalk, arguing about something as their happy little dog bounced around their legs.
“It wasn’t… It took me the whole trip to find out she’s not totally straight. Then it all got messy because her coach tried to poach me as a client. For a while there, nobody would talk to me. Including you.”
Alice folded her arms over her chest. Fine, so I’d deserved it in her case.
“Anyway, it’s not just about chasing some girl. I s
poke to Mamma about retiring, for real. That’s why I’m not playing so much this year; I’m putting all my focus on the slams. Injury permitting, I’ll play until I break the record. Then I’ll bow out, see what comes next.”
“What does come next? No way you’re going to make small talk in the commentary box like the other ex-pros.”
“You’ve got me there,” I said. “I haven’t ironed out all the details yet, but I’d like to start my own charity, maybe a foundation. And while there are a hundred causes that could use my help, I thought it was about time I gave back to my community. As you would say.”
“What would that look like?” Alice leaned in, intrigued.
“Building on the smaller projects you work with—helping with homelessness, bullying, making sure schools teach healthy things about our sexualities and genders. But maybe more, globally. Lobbying governments where it’s still illegal, helping with asylum for queer people from those countries… I don’t know how big we can go, but I’d like to try. You’re always complaining about Corporate Gay and how the biggest organisations sell out and settle for the minimum. What if we could do more?”
“We?”
“I know you have a career, but you also care about this stuff. Maybe you could consult, share some contacts? Totally up to you.”
“Well, well. I never thought I’d see the day, but here we are. Elin Larsson is ready to change the world. You might even get the L, B, T, and Q on equal billing if you carry on like this.” Alice leaned the rest of the way over the table and pulled me into a hug, not letting go until our drinks arrived.
“See? That sounds like a project. And maybe we can make it easier and safer, so that nobody has to wait until their thirties to come out. Unless they want to.”
“Or until they meet some pretty Mexican chick and can’t contain the gay any longer,” Alice teased. “If you’re playing less, does that mean even fewer chances to stammer at her and not ask her out?”
I finally had something to surprise my sister with. “I’m actually going down for the Mexican Open in a week or so. Not playing, just to cheer her on. And if, uh, people ask me when I’m there, then I’m going to tell them that’s why. She invited me, so maybe it’s time I took the next step. Right?”
Alice smiled as she blew on her coffee. “Go get her.”
“Not, like, right now. Weren’t you listening when I said in a week?”
“At least that gives us time to teach you how to flirt. I’ll bring in my best people.”
The offer was a good one, but I’d already made up my mind. “Nope. No tricks, no smooth moves, no borrowing from cheesy movies. Just me, as I am. And if she’s interested in that, great. If not? Actually, I can’t think about not. I get queasy.”
“Oh yeah, there’s our Romeo,” Alice said with a snicker. “Please tell me there’s a way to get this whole disaster on video.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I can’t believe you came!” Toni greeted me as if we hadn’t seen each other in a decade, when in reality it had barely been three weeks. It seemed like a promising sign when she hugged me so tightly I felt like we were skydivers who’d just jumped out of a plane together. Actually, we were still standing in the lobby of her hotel in Acapulco.
“Mexico and California aren’t really that far apart, you know. At least compared to the air miles we rack up every year.”
I’d let Alice pick my outfit, and she had me in skinny ripped jeans, acid washed within an inch of their structural integrity, topped off with a low-cut white V-neck tee that felt sort of translucent, and a tailored white blazer that I did really like. I didn’t usually bother with jewellery at tournaments—one more thing to stash in the locker and risk losing somehow—but since I didn’t have to change and play, I had opted for some long necklaces that Alice insisted set off the whole look. Mostly, I felt like there was a giant clock ticking until someone spilled something on me. I was basically a walking stain magnet.
“Still, you’re taking time off. And this isn’t a tournament you usually bother with.” Toni was dressed for her first match, in a peach strappy top with a white skirt, her tracksuit top open and matching her tennis shoes exactly.
“I had to come cheer on the local girl. It’s a rule, or something.” I’d already checked in and organised myself before meeting her, and the tournament was held on hotel grounds so we didn’t have far to go. “Can I get you a drink before you head out?”
“No thanks, but if you want to walk with me, maybe that will settle my nerves?”
I agreed with a nod, slipping my shades back on as we moved towards the tournament area. A lot of familiar faces, a few waves and shouts, but mostly we were left alone to do a lap of the perimeter. I was glad I’d opted for flat sandals.
“I thought the whole Cortes Ruiz brand was about not getting nervous?” I asked, only teasing a little. “Or is the scrappy underdog thing changing as you get back up the rankings?”
“It just means more, being here. I know it’s not even on your radar, but it’s the first pro tennis my dad ever brought me to see.”
“Does it make me spoiled if mine was at Wimbledon?”
“Yes!” Toni smacked my arm. “I got a bunch of messages from Xavi saying he’d like to talk, but screw him. Mira’s great, I know you’re scared of her but—”
“I’m not scared of her!” Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t have challenged her to a fist fight, exactly, but I was more offended by her dislike of me. “You looked good in Qatar.”
“I just need to get these nerves fixed, then nothing can touch me. You’ll have to teach me your secrets someday.”
“But then they won’t be secrets anymore.” We circled around to the players’ area, and I sent her off with a kiss to the cheek and went to find the bar. I had half an idea for how to make the suggestion about dating now. I just had to wait until the match was over.
Toni wasn’t kidding about those nerves, and she dropped the first set against an opponent she could have dispatched with her eyes shut. Although she won in the end, it took her a long while to get done with showering and doing post-match with Mira.
Who was the first one of the two to appear while I waited at the bar, and I couldn’t exactly ignore her.
“Missing television yet?” I asked, hoping it sounded polite enough.
“I’ll still be doing slam coverage, don’t you worry. Maybe now I’m coaching I’ll find a way to get you to answer questions without looking like you’ve been held hostage, Elin.”
Ouch. Fair, but ouch.
“You’re doing good work with Toni. She’s much more optimistic about this season.”
“Thank you. Can I buy you a drink?” That was way more civil than expected.
“Actually, Elin and I have plans,” Toni said, arriving in her civilian wear. “I promise, I’ll be on the courts at seven to practice what we talked about.”
“See that you do,” Mira said, giving me what looked suspiciously like a warning glare. “No distractions, Antonia.”
We walked off, and I left my half-finished soda and lime on the bar.
“Antonia,” I teased in my best Mira impression. “Aren’t you two professional?”
“She’s not so bad,” Toni said. “But I let her down today. That first set was a mess. It still takes me too long to take control of the game.”
“I might be able to help with that. We just need some quiet, and some privacy.”
“Oh yeah?” Toni said, leading us back into the main body of the hotel. “Your room or mine?”
It took me the entire elevator ride to compose myself after the way she said that, wink and all. Somewhere in there we must have decided on her room, and it turned out to be a pretty decent junior suite.
“Coming up in the world,” I remarked, shrugging my blazer off and draping it over the back of the sofa. “But come on, sit here with me.”
> “This better not be hypnosis,” Toni grumbled, but she came to take a seat beside me all the same. She looked more relaxed in her tight T-shirt and running leggings, her hair still a little damp from the shower. It was distracting too, how good she smelled. But I had a favour to grant.
“I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone, outside of Parisa and my immediate family. Okay?”
She shifted a little, turning towards me a little more. Serious face, which was sweet considering we’d just been joking around.
“I know it’s not exactly a secret that I don’t love attention, crowds, all of that. It’s not just a picky little preference. I was diagnosed with a generalised anxiety disorder years ago, before I even went pro. And yes, it’s difficult sometimes. I manage, though, and the discipline of this whole life actually helps in a lot of ways.”
“Oh. Elin, I had no idea—” She reached out and squeezed my shoulder. I couldn’t help liking how tactile she was, how it all came so easily to her to comfort others.
I waved away the concern. “It’s not as bad as it could be. Lots of people have it way worse. But I manage it with therapy and all the healthy crap we have to do anyway. Which makes me useful to you.”
“Useful?” Toni asked with a smile. “You mean, I’m not just in this to steal your racquets?”
“It’s cute that you think you could get them off me. But seriously, just trust me, okay? I’m not trying to get in on Mira’s job or anything. I don’t want to be your coach.”
“No, because if you were my coach, people would assume we’re sleeping together. Like they did with Xavi, and already with Mira.”
“Mira’s straight,” I pointed out.
Toni shook her head at me, her expression saying I was way behind on this one. “How did you miss that?”
“Anyway. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Why is that, by the way?” Toni asked, brown eyes sparkling as she leaned a little closer.
I panicked a little, I couldn’t lie. Instead of blurting out any old thing, I simply held her gaze for a moment or two. Then I indicated she should sit on the floor in front of me, and she did.
