Love Game - Season 2011 (9 page)

On a table next to Lynn and Agnes a furious bargaining battle was evolving. Natsumi Takashima was one of the few players who had already read the brand-new
Tennis Nurse and The Case of the Handsome Hungarian
that had come out around Christmas.

The Japanese demanded three used novels for her new one.

“I’ll give you
The Girl with the Broken Racquet
and
The Mystery of Court 69
. But three is too much.” Cecilia García López purred into Natsumi’s ear.

“Chill out, Chili. There is no way I’ll give that book away for only two novels. Also, I’ve already read
Court 69
two years ago.”

Mint joined their conversation. She had a huge collection of rare
Tennis Nurse
novels and Chili knew she could outbid her anytime.

“What about a signed copy of
Tennis Nurse and The Secret Tournament
?”

Natsumi gasped.
The Secret Tournament
was a limited edition and the signature in Mint’s copy was of none other than Monica Jordan who was rumored to have had an affair with the unknown author of the series.

“Are you serious?” Natsumi asked but already knew the answer when Mint cracked up laughing.

“No, girl. You know I will never give away that copy,” Mint grinned. “But I could offer three for one. How about
The Girl with the Fire Eyes
,
The Case of the Grumpy Umpire
and
The Girl who Slipped Through The Net
?”

Chili was out of the deal and she knew it. Mint always did that. Whenever Chili was trying to make an impression on someone else Mint would interfere and draw all the attention to herself. Sometimes the Spaniard wondered why she bothered at all. Angrily, she got up and looked for another table. In the far corner she spotted Morgana Doré with a pile of
Tennis Nurse
novels before her. Only two hours ago the French girl had advanced to the semifinal beating Angela Porovski 11-9 in the third set.

“Is that your way of recovering from a tough three-setter?” Chili asked when she approached Morgana.

“I will not stay long,” Morgana smiled. “I just want to trade some of my copies.” She gestured for Chili to sit down and opened one of her novels.

“Look, I made annotations and explanatory notes for a better understanding. It is really important to know all this background information to fully grasp the impact of these novels,” Morgana explained to an astonished Chili.

“You scribbled all over the books,” Chili exclaimed. The book was messed up with Morgana’s handwriting. She shook her head but Morgana seemed very proud of her work.

“
Mais qui
, it makes the reading between the lines easier, you see.”

“Well, I assume, most of us understand the sexual innuendo without foot notes.”

“But there’s so much more to it than that,” Morgana almost screamed. Everyone in the room looked up and glanced over to Chili and Morgana. Now the French player addressed the whole room.

“Can’t you see it? Don’t you understand it? These novels are about us.”

***

Gabriella sat down on the bed and shook her head. It was unbelievable! Luella had to be joking! But looking up to her twin sister she knew she wasn’t.

Lulu had just admitted with a sheepish grin that losing the match she had played for Gabriella was mainly due to exhaustion, and that her fatigue was related to a nightly training session with Rafael, their new fitness trainer whom Lulu clearly had chosen because of his stunning resemblance with rock singer Enrique Martinez. What about tennis? What about their professional career?

It was the second tournament in a row where Luella had lost a match while playing for Gabriella in an early round. Soon Gaga would have to worry about her ranking, if Luella continued to mess up their game plans like that. But her sister seemed unperturbed by Gaga’s anger.

“Don’t be so upset,” Luella moaned. “A quarterfinal isn’t too bad. Besides that you lost your match too, playing for me.”

Gabriella gasped. She had lost fair and square against a stronger opponent today. Not because of fatigue caused by nightly activity. For a second, she thought about getting her revenge by deleting all the Enrique Martinez songs from her sister’s MP3 player.

“This is the first match this season I lost playing for you – and I gave it all,” she defended herself furiously. “That’s why we switch matches, Lu! So we have a better chance of winning against players with different game styles.”

But while saying this out loud she only realized that it wasn’t the lost match that bothered her. She could accept a loss. Everyone lost once in a while, having a bad day or facing a strong opponent. She was upset because Luella had taken the loss without hesitation or regrets. Would she have stayed up all night if she had played for herself? Gabriella doubted it. She waited for Lulu’s reply but her twin just shrugged.

Gabriella shook her head. “Next time I will crash the car myself,” she said disappointedly.

“Don’t be so huffy,” Luella snorted. “I know what’s wrong with you. You’re jealous of me.”

That actually made Gabriella laugh. “Jealous?”

“Because I get all the attention, while you stay in your hotel room reading all night like a spinster.” That struck home. “Plus,” Lulu added smugly. “I’m hotter than you.”

Gabriella got up. She needed to get out of the room. Her sister was right. Luella was never lonely. She had a persistent entourage of hot guys lining up for her. What did she know about Gabriella and her feelings?

Gaga had always been glad to have a twin sister as it was more than useful on the tour. They were never lonely like so many of the other players. They stuck together and could rely on each other at any time. But right now she just wanted to be alone. She never wanted to hear any of Luella’s bed stories again, she was fed up with her sister’s constant change of direction when they planned the draw and she was sick of being the younger half, who once more had to wait courtside for her big sister to pick up the prize, the compliments and the ranking points. For the first time in Gabriella’s life she wished she was an only child.

“We look exactly the same,” Gaga said calmly walking to the door. But Luella wouldn’t let go of her that easily.

“At least you’re not the one who has to deal with Sasha’s advances. She hits on me all the time.”

Sasha? Advances? All the time? Already outside the door, Gabriella stopped in her tracks. What was Lulu talking about? She turned around only to face the closed door. Luella had slammed it shut. Again.

***

Blimey O’Reilly!

The words tried to burst out of Tom’s throat but he swallowed them back immediately. Looking for the men’s bathroom he had turned a corner of what he had assumed to be a deserted corridor behind the WTA offices only to witness one of the surprises one usually encountered only during wild players’ parties. There were Martina Rodriguez and Antonia Sapore leaning against each other on a wall, happily smooching and canoodling along.

Astonished, Tom crouched behind some big potted, bushy plants that were stored away in the corridor and watched the scene for a few seconds. Then he slowly pulled his camera out of the large bag he carried over his shoulder and aimed it at the couple. Lost in their caressing, Antonia and Martina didn’t hear the snapping of the camera and when Tom finally let go of the release button he had taken nearly forty photos.

Once he was back in his hotel room, he sat down at the table and started his computer. He had already looked through the pictures on his camera while he was in the elevator. There were some really good ones from an artistic point of view. He wondered how they would look in black and white. But then again he had to admit these pictures were quite simply a nice scoop.

It had been amusing to find himself suddenly in the position of a paparazzo. Perhaps he should consider another change of job, he thought chuckling, and as much as he wasn’t into that shady side of journalism, there was nothing wrong with a harmless play of thoughts and considering the money such a picture could bring.

However, while loading the picture to his computer Tom concluded that  it was probably not really that much money as Martina and Antonia were not very well-known players. Only in their home countries could these picture create a stir. He suddenly realized that such a photo of him and Ted would cause an even bigger scandal in Great Britain as everyone assumed Ted was the biggest lady-killer of the tennis world. His last TV advertisement was clearly feeding on this image.

This photo of Martina and Antonia – as much as it had delighted him taking it while hidden behind the bushes – could definitely harm the two players. Moreover, publishing such a photo was certainly against the rules. Tom was sure about it. Not that he had bothered to actually read the hundreds and hundreds of pages of confidentiality notes he had to sign when he had started his job with the WTA.

Tom bit his lower lip. Should he just delete the pictures? They were too good to be erased. Also, he couldn’t deny that he loved a juicy secret and the thrill of hiding in the shadows had exquisitely lifted his mood. Stumbling upon them and feeling the excitement of shooting something forbidden was a welcome distraction from his everyday duties. He was wondering if someone else knew about Monica’s and Antonia’s affair or if he had exclusive knowledge. He was almost certain that at least he had exclusive picture material.

Of course, he wouldn’t sell the photos but it wouldn’t do anybody any harm if he did a little research here and there. He smiled while thinking back to his teenage years when he had dreamt of becoming an investigative journalist who was taking on the world of politics and crime. Why not take on the world of affairs in the WTA instead? He laughed happily. It was wonderful. He had so much to catch up on. He had to know every single detail about this secret dating world. For how long had they been going at it? Who knew about them? Were there other couples? So many questions that were now dancing in his dizzy head and making him as happy as a boy on Christmas Day.

***

“Who is serving right now?” Gemma squinted her eyes and took a good look at the two doubles players on the court.

“It’s Lulu,” Robyn answered.

“No, it’s Gaga.” Ivana said, who sat next to them. “Lulu started serving, right? It’s 4-4 now, so that must be Gaga.”

All three of them stared intently at the twins for a minute then looked at each other shaking their heads. It was ridiculous to even try telling the sisters apart.

“She served it down the T at 115 mph. That must be Lulu,” Gemma insisted.

“She also got it over the net. So it must be Gaga.” Ivana snickered.

They were watching the quarterfinal between the twins and Monica Jordan and Agnes Lion. The old doubles partners gave the twins a good run-around, chipping and charging with the prowess of their experience. At the net they successfully nullified the high-paced balls of the younger players.

“They could play blindfolded. They click like no other team,” Robyn pondered after the older doubles team had broken Luella and Gabriella and advanced to a 5-4 lead.

“Together they are twenty years older than Lulu and Gaga,” Ivana calculated.

“That’s wicked. I hope I’ll be playing in fifteen, twenty years from now,” Robyn said.

“But you’d rather play mixed with a certain hot player, wouldn’t you?” Gemma gave her friend a huge grin.

“Oh, please. I’m so over Ted.” Robyn waved the thought away.

“Did I miss something?” Ivana looked up, her eyes wide open.

“No,” Robyn protested. “It was just a temporary lapse of sanity. Nothing serious. Besides, he has this famous girlfriend now.”

“An Aussie singer. Felicia Del Castro,” Gemma explained to Ivana. “She worked on the telly and now makes pop music stuff.”

“Yes, I know,” Ivana said slowly. “And she is with Ted Curry?”

“Yes,” Robyn nodded. “Happily ever after if you believe the yellow press.”

For a moment Ivana said nothing, just watched the balls flying over the net until Luella – or perhaps Gaga – smacked one into the net and the applauding spectators brought her back from thinking about the incident she had witnessed last night. She took a deep breath and turned to the two British girls. Then she stopped herself with her mouth open.

Gemma looked up surprised to see the excitement in Ivana’s eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ivana was still unsure what to do.

“What is it?” Now even Robyn insisted on knowing. Ivana rolled her eyes. Too late now to duck out of it.

“Ok, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell anyone, ok?”

Robyn and Gemma looked at each other with huge grins, then looked back at Ivana.

“Sure, we promise.”

Indian Wells, United States