Love Game - Season 2011 (6 page)

A photographer with curly red locks smiled at her and gestured for her to turn her face to the camera. She liked the spotlight and she knew how to move for the photographers to achieve the desired effect and get onto the covers of magazines. Over the years Sasha had little by little turned into a model in great demand, to the point that her fans were questioning her commitment to tennis. She had promised herself to prove them wrong.

By her side and holding her hand tightly was Czech soccer star Jaroslav Bradka, a midfielder of Manchester City. Jaro was nice, extremely good-looking and provided her some company during his off-season in the winter. He also stopped the inconvenient questions about her private life that had begun to lay siege to her in the last few years. For a long time the absence of boyfriends had been explained by her being occupied with her tennis career, but her management worried that it would eventually interfere with sponsoring deals. The relationship with Jaro was set up quickly. In October they had announced that they were dating, around Christmas they had dealt a few pictures to the yellow press. Jaro had agreed to show up for at least five tournaments per year while she would attend just as many of his football club’s matches.

As soon as she and Jaro entered the buffet room, he was hi-jacked by Carina Gnocchi, the young German, who had the same clothing sponsor as Sasha.

“Why didn’t you sign with Arsenal? My dad says, it’s the best team ever!”

Jaroslav smiled politely at the young German.

“Oh please, their defense sucks,” he answered. “And the city isn’t what it used to be. No, I’ll stick to Manchester.”

As a German with Italian roots Carina was a soccer expert and engaged in a heated discussion with Jaro. How could anyone be so interested in football, Sasha thought. Or was she actually hitting on her boyfriend? She noticed that Carina put her hand on Jaro’s arm but the Czech tennis player couldn’t have cared less. If the new No. 1 really flirted with her fiancé her effort would be completely in vain, Sasha mused. Soon British newcomer Gemma Heffington joined the football discussion, pushing Carina’s arm away. That got the German going. Her speech on the formidability of a 2-3-5 formation was increasing the cringe factor with every second and Sasha looked down at her glass, realizing that it was empty. No need to endure this embarrassing performance any longer, she decided. Leaning on Jaro’s arm, Sasha whispered in his ear to excuse herself and noticed to her delight that both girls frowned. How easy it was for Sasha to claim her territory with a simple gesture. Besides, her manager had told her to show more public displays of affection. She was in a happy relationship with Jaro after all.

Making her way through the crowd she picked up another cocktail from a waiter and stepped outside onto the brightly lit patio. What was so special about football players anyway? She couldn’t understand the fascination at all. With a sigh she sat down onto the rattan couch. Looking around she concluded that this was much more to her liking – low-riding with a nice view, which consisted of high-heeled, tanned, long legs of fellow tennis girls.

***

“You want to come over?” Cecilia asked into the darkness.

“Why don’t you come over?”

“I have to walk around the bed while you could just get out of yours and slip into mine. Your way is shorter.”

“That’s silly,” Mint mumbled into her cushion. She sounded sleepy. “Silly Chili!”

Cecilia giggled. Chili was her nickname.

“I know. But I’m too knackered to get up.”

Mint moaned, irritated, but Chili could hear her pushing the blanket aside and stepping out of the bed. The young Spanish player turned around in her bed when Mint lay down next to her.

“Great. The sheets are cold,” Mint complained.

Cecilia smiled, knowing that her friend was unable to see it. Mint Rickenbacher wasn’t very amicable. She often came across as very rude and selfish, but Chili knew that her best friend just didn’t like to admit that she enjoyed some closeness, even tenderness, at times. Even though Mint could have easily afforded to stay in the official players’ hotel located by the Yarra River, the American had opted to share a room in a cheap hotel with Chili – much to the dislike of Mint’s parents.

Cecilia lifted her blanket a bit and threw it over her shivering friend.

“So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?” Chili asked.

“You mean, besides beating Little Miss Sunshine?”

Chili nodded. They both had to play their qualifying finals tomorrow. If they won them they would be in the main draw of a Grand Slam.

“She’s not little,” she mused over Mint’s opponent’s height, causing Mint to groan again. “I’m little.”

“You know what I mean. She’s unbearable.”

“I think she is cute.”

Mint sat up in the bed. “Seriously? She’s a pain in the ass! I’m going to whip her with my groundies tomorrow.” She let herself fall down onto the sheets again. “You can’t be serious.”

Chili snorted over that much passion. “Jealous much?” She pinched Mint through the blanket.

“No way,” came the answer. “I mean, seriously?”

Mint really wanted to know.

“No,” Cecilia answered. “She is too tall for me anyway.” With a swift movement the Spaniard reached out under the blanket and embraced Mint’s wiry body.

“And she is a pain in the ass,” Mint insisted, talking to the ceiling.

“Yes,” Chili answered, moving closer and planting a kiss on Mint’s cheek. She continued doing it until Mint turned towards her and began kissing her back.

***

His whole life had changed in a couple of days. From sporadic freelance writer and photographer Tom Richardson had made it to a full-time writer, photographer and video producer.

As though by chance he had been at the right place at the right time and now he was working for the WTA, producing entertaining little tidbits for its website. Last week he had mainly done interviews and two photo shoots with some of the lower ranked girls at the Sydney tournament, as his new boss Candice Crantz was testing the waters before she let him loose on the star players. That was fine with him. Everything was fine at the moment. He had only arrived in Melbourne yesterday and his first assignment for today seemed easy enough.

He had met Elise Renard at the reception desk and soon enough had found a quiet place to do a little fun interview with the young German. The twenty year old had been a quarterfinalist only a year ago but now was fighting her way back into the upper ranks. She had done alright in Brisbane, reaching the second round before falling to a more experienced player. Today however was not a good day for the German. She had lost her qualifying match against American newcomer Mint Rickenbacher and was out of the Australian Open before it had even started. Accordingly, her mood was a little dampened, even though she seemed quite endearing.

“What do you like most about playing in Australia?” Tom asked her.

“The weather,” Elise answered, adding that the people were also very nice. Hearing her mellow-voiced answers Tom soon settled into autopilot. This would be another half hour of boringness, he suspected, plus another hour of editing the boringness. Why not add a little spice, he wondered. He didn’t have to use it if it didn’t work out. He hesitated for a second but then gave it a go.

“Are you looking forward to dancing with a particular player tonight at the player’s party?” It caught her off-guard. She laughed nervously then grabbed the water bottle. Her reaction set Tom’s antennae buzzing. Apparently he had hit the mark – there was someone she wanted to dance with.

“Some of the players are really in demand,” Tom tried to get her talking, but she was still holding on to the bottle gulping little sips. “Who’s your favorite?”

She grimaced in embarrassment. “I’ll keep it to myself.”

Dear Lord, Tom couldn’t help thinking. So German! How much more fun would that question have been with any of the British girls?

“Yeah, you’re right,” he managed to say. “I would do that, too. Most girls would name Ted Curry as a favorite though. At least that’s what I have heard.” Tom smiled at Elise.

“I guess,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulders. She looked like she had never heard of Ted Curry. This girl was too uptight, Tom figured. Why would anyone at her age become so nervous in response to his harmless questions? Wasn’t she traveling with her father all the time? Yes, that must be it. Well, it was actually something they could talk about – her French father, who was also her coach. In the morning he had checked the WTA website to gather some information about the players he was supposed to interview. He was still learning who was who in the women’s tennis world and he was surprised to learn that Elise Renard was listed as German, but had soon found out that her name came from her father, a famous French coach with a German wife.

Tom gave the young woman a friendly wink.

“Well, back to tennis then,” he suggested.

“Yes, thank you.” She relaxed again and put the bottle down. They talked for another twenty minutes about tennis, music and her comeback from injury.

After she politely thanked him and said good-bye, Tom watched the young girl leave the lobby. He was a bit puzzled by the German and thinking about editing her generic answers he let out a little moan. But then he got up. Why worry? This was Australia and what a difference two weeks can make, he thought. He put on his sunglasses and pulling his hand through his red curls he took a step out into the morning light. He had a new job, a new life and – he smiled as brightly as the Australian sun – since Perth he wasn’t single anymore.

***

The lobby was bustling but there was no sign of Natsumi Takashima. Amanda and Monica looked around, then headed to the lounge and settled down on the huge couch to wait for their Japanese friend, with whom they had decided to share a quick lunch before they would spend the afternoon getting ready for tonight’s players’ party. The couch was surrounded by gigantic tub plants that made the room look like a jungle.

“Where is she? She is only on time when she has to play a match. It’s not very Japanese to be late, is it?” Amanda was muttering while looking up at the leaves of an exotic plant.

“Whatever the reason is, I just hope it doesn’t involve sushi,” Monica grinned thinking back four months when the girls had a night out in Tokyo.

“Oh god. I don’t want to be reminded!” Amanda waved aside the thought. That night she had had too much sake. Far too much.

“So tell me about that new girl of yours,” Monica purred.

“Nothing to tell really,” Amanda said slowly. “Just someone I met.” She gave a bright red flower to her left a close inspection and Monica Jordan had to laugh. Even though Amanda was not particularly shy she wouldn’t talk about her feelings a lot. However, in the last two weeks she had been more outgoing and visibly cheerful.

“Come on, you’ve been sporting a big grin since Perth. You could at least give me a name!”

Now it was Amanda’s time to smile. She couldn’t help it. She thought about the new girl in her life.

“Felicia,” she answered. “She’s a singer.”

Monica nodded gravely. So, the stories she heard were true. Felicia Del Castro was invading the tennis world. ‘Singer’ was perhaps an exaggeration. The young woman had made a name as an announcer in several cheap TV shows and was now trying to gain a reputation as a vocalist. Her new songs were being played constantly on the radio and caused one’s ears to bleed. She glanced at Amanda. Well, she’d known it and she’d better accept it, too, Monica thought. She just couldn’t govern everything in the summer camp. She gave her young friend a big smile.

“A singer? Now, that sounds glamorous.”

“She is a bit. Glamorous, I mean,” Amanda mumbled.

Monica leaned over and gave a slightly surprised Amanda a big hug.

“That’s great, kiddo. I’m very happy for you.”

Amanda was wriggling awkwardly in her grip. “Not planning to get married yet.”

“What? But Agnes and I want to be your bridesmaids!” Monica grinned.

“Yeah, let’s see how it goes,” Amanda replied with a sheepish smile. Amanda wasn’t the type to shout it from the rooftops but her eyes revealed she was head over heels in love with Felicia Del Castro. Monica sighed inaudibly then let go of Amanda.

A horrible squeak overpowered her thoughts. Takashima had arrived with squealing tires.

“How the hell do you do that with high heels, woman?” Monica shook her head in disbelief. Takashima’s famous trademark move on the court was her sliding split. She would even do it on hard courts.

“Sorry for being late. But I discovered the most amazing roof-deck sushi restaurant and they offered me a free trial if I bring you guys along. The owner is a big tennis fan,” Natsumi explained. Unperturbed by Amanda’s shocked face she threw her arms in the air in excitement. “Hey ho, let’s go, girls!”

Eventually Monica helped Natsumi to drag Amanda from the jungle sofa and into the elevator.

***

Elise felt a big lump creeping up her throat. For a moment all she could hear were the leaves rustling by the fan above her as the huge jungle plants wrapped around her like Sleeping Beauty’s impenetrable hedge. Praying that no one came to sit in the lounge she crouched into the big wing chair that had hidden her from the three girls. She needed just two minutes of silence to steady herself. Just two minutes to fight back the tears.

So, Amanda had a girlfriend. A glamorous singer. Of course, she had, Elise thought. Amanda was a Top 10 player, she was lovely and friendly and never made a big fuss about her standing. She was a ‘cool cat’, an expression Elise had learned by reading the
Tennis Nurse
novel Agnes Lion had given her. She had learned a lot of other things as well. Soon she needed to give it back. Otherwise Agnes would correctly assume that Elise had read it, even though she had denied it when talking on the phone with her friend. But there were pages she could read over and over again. That’s what she had been doing in the lounge when Monica and Amanda had sat down on the couch on the other side of the jungle plants. But once she had heard Amanda’s voice behind her she had forgotten about
Tennis Nurse and The Girl Who Preferred The Grass
.