by Lola Keeley
Mira ignored me again, unsurprisingly. Any attempt she’d made as a media personality to disguise her bitterness towards me was well and truly over. I was glad a few people sat between us in the VIP section, and I struck up conversation with some of my fellow pros who’d come to soak up the action and talk shop about the upcoming tournaments.
Somewhere in the middle Toni lost focus, like the trick I’d taught her had stopped working. I knew she must have other coping mechanisms, but I worried for her when the shots and the decisions started being just a little out of step with what Jodie was throwing at her. Before I could get too upset, though, something clicked again, and Toni saw the match out like her life depended on it.
She was going to another final.
I applauded as hard as anyone, but let Jürgen commandeer me to brag for a while so that when the cameras swept over us all, I’d look disinterested: just another working holiday. I knew there’d be some commentary on me being a good sport, staying to cheer on the person who’d vanquished me. What a professional, huh? If only they knew.
Friday night felt like an excuse to have dinner out, and Toni insisted even with the final hanging over her. Seeing her wandering the streets of Madrid at my side, I was seeing her in her element. She had visited the city many times with her mother, not just for tennis, and took great delight in pointing out funny little stores and hidden side streets.
“I had no idea you were so hot on your history,” I admitted when we finally made it to the hole-in-the-wall tapas place that looked like nothing much outside but had a six-month waiting list for reservations. “And how did you get us a table here, anyway?”
“Elin! Señorita Larsson!” The maître d’ almost fell over himself rushing to greet us. “And Señorita Cortes Ruiz, por favor.”
“I dropped your name like a hot potato,” Toni admitted, whispering in my ear. “It’s incredibly sexy how well that works. I intend to do it a lot from now on.”
Well. How could I complain about that?
“Keep this up and my name won’t be the only thing dropping tonight,” I whispered back as we took our seats at a table tucked into an alcove. A little privacy, then. “Assuming I’m wearing anything that can be dropped, of course.”
She almost spilled her water at that. Good to know I wasn’t the only one so easily flustered.
I didn’t look around for once to see if we were noticed. For a few minutes, it seemed like every member of staff dropped by to wait on us personally, but eventually my wine was ordered—Toni stuck to water.
“So tomorrow, I’m going to have an extra guest for the match,” Toni told me, leaning back in her chair, the candles on the table lighting her like a painting. “In the seat next to you, in fact.”
“If this is some ex-girlfriend…” It turned out that for all the speculation and rumours around Xavi, and despite a few failed attempts in high school, Toni had never properly dated any men. Not that it mattered to me one way or another, as long as we were attracted to each other, but it was a reminder for me not to run around making assumptions.
“No, it’s my mother. She decided maybe she can care a little bit for a final. She keeps saying I’ll be like ‘the Spanish champion’ if I win, which isn’t… Still, she’s not normally so enthusiastic.”
“This is a big deal for you, isn’t it? Do you need me to be just a friend?” I reached for her hand, entwining our fingers. “I can do that, for you. You know my history with being out, so…”
“I think I’d like to tell her who you are to me,” Toni confessed. “I mean, she already knows there’s someone on the scene. And that I almost blew the whole thing.”
“But you didn’t,” I assured her. “It doesn’t have to be such a big deal. You’ve met my mother.”
“She travels with you. You work together every day. And she gets it, Elin. From what you’ve told me, there was no big adjustment. One gay daughter, one trans daughter—Britta just rolls with it and loves you both the same. My mom? It’s not like that.”
“She knows you’re gay, though?”
Toni nods, sipping at her water. “But she told me she doesn’t want to know all the details, not in her face, all of that. If she has to meet ‘some woman’ I better be serious about her.”
“And you didn’t tell her what lesbians are like for serial monogamy?” I tried to lighten the mood, but my heart was doing a strange kind of pitter-patter that would have set alarms beeping if I had my treadmill heart monitor on. “Sounds as though you really like me, if you’re going through all this.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Toni said, heaving a sigh of relief. “So yeah, you enjoy that tomorrow. Me? I’m glad my ass will be on court.”
“It is a very nice one,” I agreed. “You know, if we just ordered dessert we could be back at the hotel in less than an hour.”
“I’m hungry,” Toni protested. “But okay, we’ll skip the first course. You’re a bad influence.”
“Oh, I know.” I wanted to make a joke about how the GTA would agree with her, and we’d find out tomorrow, but the words just wouldn’t form. She deserved a night with no stress, no interference with her preparation. We’d talk about it after the match. “And I’m really happy you want me to meet your mother.”
We smiled at each other in the candlelight, and my heartbeat settled down to something quick and happy.
My plan to shield Toni was obliterated by the morning headlines. Alerts had started appearing on my phone in the wee small hours, thanks to Parisa forwarding them, and it seemed the GTA were going all out for the suspension.
What pissed me off almost as much as the thought of Toni waking up to be distracted by it all was the way the official statement implied I’d done something wrong when it came to doping. No mention that I had spoken out against injustice, just the vague implication about me, drugs, and suspension. Only at the very end did the statement mention I had never tested positive for any banned substance.
I went back to bed and waited for Toni’s alarm to rouse her. She had one of those sunrise alarm clocks and took it with her to every hotel and house throughout the year. Slowly, the fake sunlight woke her up with a smile on her face.
Like the lovesick idiot I was, I thought maybe she had never looked more beautiful. I said good morning with a soft kiss instead of words.
“Hey,” she said, voice still husky with sleep and deep enough to hit me right between the thighs. “What are you waiting so patiently for?”
I wished it was for something as fun as sex.
“Listen, it’s not a big deal, but I made some headlines today. You’re almost definitely going to get pulled in for testing whether you win or not, so don’t let anything affect your focus.”
“Can we go for a swim?” She was checking her phone, catching up on reality swipe by swipe. I braved myself for her anger at me not having told her sooner.
“If you want to, sure. I’m apparently a real troublemaker, though, so you might not want to be seen in public with me. Or let me meet your mother.”
“Elin, you’re taking a stand to protect the sport we all devoted our lives to. You don’t take illegal steroids or speed or anything to cheat, and no funny little men from the GTA can intimidate you. Especially not with a press release, no?”
“Right. You saw the part where I’m going to be fined and suspended once the president approves it?”
Toni kicked off the covers and slipped out of bed, coming around to stand on my side. In her tiny cami and shorts, dark hair tumbling wild over her shoulders, it took all my strength not to yank her onto the mattress there and then.
“Well, that you have to appeal. Reps, attorneys; hell, why not set your mother on them?” Toni kissed me on the end of my nose. “Other people I might worry, but babe, you can take on anyone.”
I felt ten pounds lighter by the time we brushed our teeth and picked up our swim gear.
Who knew that talking it through with Toni, and her boundless confidence in me, that I would feel better than if I just silently fretted over it? Okay, when I put it like that, I saw exactly how obvious it was, but the very pleasant feeling remained. I felt like I could take on the world, not just the stuffed shirts of the GTA. Let them ban me. I’d sue my way into the French Open and bring the glare of public opinion right along with me.
The pool was mostly empty, save for a few men thrashing out lengths in the fast lane. Usually I’d go threaten their egos with my killer front crawl, but I was more in the mood for lazy backstroke with frequent interruptions for making out in the shallow end. Toni indulged me for a while before going to splash around in her real workout, teaching the fast-lane boys a lesson in the process. At least until Jürgen showed up. With his arms, he had the edge on all of us.
He eventually came across to disturb me after zipping around like Flipper with a fake tan, wearing Speedos that had to be threatening his circulation.
“Larsson. That bikini is almost obscene by your standards.”
Usually, I opted for a one-piece, but my kit sponsor had offloaded a bunch of their new summer line on me, including this pale blue bikini that was probably more skinny straps than actual fabric. It covered everything essential, and it was comfortable to swim in, so what did I care beyond the way it made Toni stare like she was trying to memorise me for a test.
“We can’t all… What do our Aussie pals call it? Smuggle little birds?”
“I heard you’ve gone all communist on us. So bored of winning you’ve picked a fight you must lose?” I swept a little wave at him with my arm to express my annoyance. He took it in stride and kept at me, wading in my direction till I was backed into a corner of the pool. “Hey, I get it. I like to mess with the suits whenever I can. I think sometimes they forget who makes them all this money. Nobody ever bought two grand hospitality tickets to watch some accounting.”
“Careful, boy wonder. I might start thinking you’re on my side.”
“Oh, I’m not on any side that doesn’t make me money. Still, you’re my white whale, the one that got away. I should do something nice for you.”
“Jürgen, you didn’t ever stand a chance. I’m gay.”
His smile was almost blinding. “What? I thought that was just bitching from all the guys you knocked back. Including me.”
“Charming.” Okay, it was a little funny how relieved he looked. Had I really been such a hit job on his masculinity?
“So who’s the lucky lady? There must be one on the scene now or you would have told me sooner.”
Which naturally, was Toni’s cue to swim over.
“Babe?” She gave Jürgen the once over. “Is he bothering you?”
“We’re all friends here, Ruiz. Congrats on making the final, by the way. Keep this up and you might even win a big one. Although since you’ve melted the Ice Princess, maybe that’s the only prize that matters, hmm?”
“We should go.” Toni pointed to the huge clock on the wall. “My mother will be landing at Barajas any minute.”
Jürgen wasn’t impressed by her dismissal, but he turned to me once more. “Anyway, something nice. I heard some of the boys’ chat in the locker room, and they think there might be the same problem in the men’s testing. I asked if they had proof and someone can get it. You want a copy? I can have the guy hand it right over to you.”
“Why would you help me?” I asked, feeling Toni’s arm slip around my waist under the water. A united front.
“Like I said, I stick it to the man when it amuses me. Give them hell, see what happens next. He’ll leave an envelope at reception for you. This afternoon sometime.”
“Thanks,” I called back to him, following Toni’s lead towards the ladder and dry land. Maybe I did have legs to stand on after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I couldn’t tell Toni, but while we got ready for her mother’s arrival, I felt very queasy. Not because I thought I’d make a bad impression, although there was a reason my lingering nickname was the Ice Princess. Not just because I was cool under pressure. No, this was one area where my lack of real-world experience tripped me up. I hadn’t really done meet-the-parents in any real way, apart from a couple of nice parties at Celeste’s home back in Michigan. Then there was the complicating factor that Gabriela didn’t care much for tennis. When I ran out of things to talk about, I could usually fall back on that.
At least Toni seemed nervous too, right up until her mother strolled into the hotel lobby, and then every bit of tension evaporated in a massive hug and a torrent of Spanish that seemed like a mutual compliment fest.
“Mama, this is Elin.”
“Por dios, Antonia, I know who she is. This lady is on television and magazines more than the Pope. It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve been hearing for at least ten years that you are the greatest thing to ever happen to tennis.”
I shook Gabriela’s offered hand, a little dumbstruck. Toni had the good grace to blush.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I said. “And your English is fantastic. Does that run in the family?”
“If you live in the part of Spain that the English have invaded, you learn,” she replied. “Although I always say your people have the right idea: raise all the kids bilingual. God knows the English never will.”
“Toni will have to go and get ready soon, but we have time for some coffee,” I suggested. “I could take your things up to her room and then join you both?”
“No, no, leave it to the bellboy. I might not be so good talking about your little yellow balls you all care so much about, but I do want to talk to the woman who has Antonia so…well. I’m sure you know.”
Gabriela linked her arm with mine, and the other with Toni’s.
“Come on, girls, there’s a lot to talk about.”
I let Gabriela hang back with the officials and players in the lounge, soaking up the praise for her daughter, and made my way to the seats a little early. We had survived her interrogation, but I was still a little stunned. I’d never been so relieved as when Toni got her call to go start the official warmup.
Taking my seat, I was pleased to note that the court was pristine, freshly raked, and just the hint of a breeze had the net rippling lightly. Clay courts slowed play down considerably, took away the advantage of big servers like Celeste.
Perfect conditions for Toni’s style of play. She could do this.
When someone came to sit beside me, I assumed it was Gabriela. Then I recognised the perfume and turned to discover Mira. Like I just had been, she was focused on the court out in front of us, never turning her head to look at me as she spoke.
“I really thought you’d have taken the hint by now, Elin. Your presence is only going to hold her back.”
“She’s in her second final in a matter of weeks, how am I holding her back? She just beat me, for God’s sake.” I gripped the free chair on my other side, not wanting my temper to flare too high. “Which is still pretty hard, even if I’m not nineteen anymore.” Okay, that was a cheap dig about how she never again beat me after I took that final from her, but Mira had irritated me into it.
“So this week you want to have a girlfriend, you want to be out. Then it’ll get tricky and you’ll get right back in the closet. How much time will Toni lose to a broken heart, hmm? While you’re pretending you never had anything to do with her.”
“Is this before or after the GTA ban me for questioning their drug-testing policy? I have enough problems without ruining my relationship.”
“Then break it off now, while it’s still barely a relationship. You two almost managed it after Miami, hardly talking. Just let that happen again and let her have a real shot at winning some slams.”
I put it together then. Toni’s confusion about missing my calls. Mira’s reputation as a control freak. I almost smacked my forehead as it a
ll fell into place. Hadn’t Toni herself told me Mira was batting for our team? Despite the anger rising in my chest, I forced myself to stay neutral. Well, the icy side of neutral anyway. “When you answered the phone that time…was that the only time you kept us apart? Or what, deleted a few messages here and there? Didn’t pass along the notes from reception? Is that how it is?”
Mira just watched the court, saying nothing.
“Nobody is that invested in their client’s success, not really. Even my mother has never sabotaged a relationship of mine, and she literally gave me the life I’m using to play this game with. So it begs the question, Mira… Do you want me gone because I’m a distraction? Or because you want to take a run at Toni yourself?”
“Oh please,” Mira made a scoffing sound. “You think very highly of yourself. Always have. That’s why you get those nicknames, isn’t it? But if I wanted Antonia in that way, well. You wouldn’t stop me. All you’ve done is confirm she’ll date an older woman.”
Mira had ten years on me, maybe more. If she’d ever been nice to me, I’m sure I would have developed a raging crush, and she’d definitely been the object of my fascination before I’d ever joined the tour. How sad to think we might still be competing after all this time. Only one thing was for sure: Toni was worth it, so in any contest I’d make sure to win.
Then the judges and the umpire came out, followed soon after by the players. Gabriela slipped into her seat, but I didn’t notice at first, too intent on watching Toni come out on court. When she looked up and waved, the eye contact unmistakably just for me, I realised I had already won.
Now she just needed to do the same on court, and to hell with Mira either way.
The GTA, or at least a small clutch of people in power there, had decided to go on an all-out offensive. As concerned as I was about the prospect of missing the French Open, I also had something much more pressing to deal with: a whole week off that Toni wasn’t playing either.
