Love Game - Season 2012 (29 page)

Sasha closed her eyes again.

She had done that before. Losing the first
set and winning the next two. Usually not a problem for her. But right now she
didn’t know if she could do it. All her anger which had got her through the
quarterfinal and semifinal seemed to have subsided. How could she let someone
deceive her like this? How could anybody do this to another person? Just
because she had uncovered their secret? She hadn’t even told anybody, nor had
she planned to do so.

“Time,” the chair umpire announced.

Sasha stayed in her chair for another
second. Suddenly she seemed too faint to get up. She should have stayed in bed,
Sasha thought. Actually, she should have stayed at home. In Prague. She should
have never taken that taxi to the airport. If she had stayed at home with her
family she would have had a wonderful breakfast every morning and could have
played with her nieces every day.

Don’t try so hard, her dad had told her.
But here she was again. In another final. But all this didn’t matter anymore.
She looked up and slowly took the towel off her shoulders. Gabriella had gotten
up as well and crossed to the other side. For a second their eyes met.

Was that a smile? Sasha frowned. Had
Gabriella just smiled at her for a moment? She couldn’t tell as the Galloway
had already passed her by and she only saw her back. Why did she smile just
now? Sasha got up and walked to the baseline. Was Gabriella already anticipating
another triumph over Sasha?

She really needed to get fired up now. She
had to break the Galloway right away. Had to dictate play. She needed to use
the anger. But when she got ready to receive Gabriella’s serve she was forced
to realize that there was no anger inside her.

There was just her heart slowly pumping
emptiness through her veins.

***

Monica scratched her head. This had to be
the most lopsided Wimbledon final in a while, she thought. Well, perhaps even
since
her
infamous Wimbledon final. How long ago that was!

She looked down onto the court again.

Sasha Mrachava hit a forehand into the
corner but Gabriella was there and returned it down the line. Monica smiled
proudly. Her doubles partner was on fire. She led 4-2 and was serving for a crucial
lead.

Even though the scoreline suggested that
Gabriella wasn’t as dominating as she had been in the first set, Monica
disagreed silently. Her doubles partner had held serve easily in the second
set, never having to face break points at all. Gabriella had even taken a 3-0
lead in the beginning with Sasha unable to get the ball in the court. The crowd
had let out collective moans whenever the Czech had hit an unforced error into
the net or outside the lines. It looked like this match would be over soon, and
Gabriella wasn’t even playing at her highest level.

Sasha was broken easily in the beginning,
and just when it looked like Gabriella would run away with the match Monica
noticed a change. For the next several points Gabriella wasn’t going for winners
anymore. She seemed to hit the ball right back to Sasha, into the middle of the
court where the Czech could return it easily. Gabriella gifted the Czech some
easy balls, so that Sasha held for 3-1. Then she threw in a poor service game
with two easy errors. Suddenly it was 3-2 and they were back on serve.

Monica chuckled. It really looked like
Gabriella wasn’t happy about Sasha’s poor play. Yes, she wanted to make it a
contest – a real contest. Monica knew that a victory was even sweeter when the
match had been tight. Gabriella had given Sasha a chance to step up and fight –
but it seemed the short hiatus in Gabriella’s level only disturbed Sasha. The
Czech couldn’t hold serve and not even Gabriella could help her this time.
Three double faults later, the scoreboard said 4-2 for the American and with a
fine backhand down the line Gabriella won the next game as well.

“Game, Miss Galloway,” the chair umpire
announced, while the players walked back to their chairs for a one-minute
changeover. “Miss Galloway leads five games to two and one set to love.”

Unless Sasha suddenly woke up from her big
sleep this match was over.

Monica leaned back. She had taken a seat in
the back of the stands under the shady roof. There were a few seats reserved
for officials outside the Royal Box or the players’ boxes. As a former champion
she was often recognized by tennis fans and usually didn’t mind giving
autographs or engaging in a chat with the spectators. But today nobody had
spoken to her so far. She was all the more surprised when a woman suddenly
stood next to her. If you only took your seat now, at this point of the match,
you may as well go home again.

“Can I get through?” an American voice
asked, pointing to the seat next to Monica. Monica didn’t look up. Sometimes
her countrymen and women were just plain annoying.

“These are reserved seats,” she let the
woman know in her best British accent. “Your seat must be somewhere else.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” the woman hissed. “Move
your ass!”

Shocked by the impudent outburst, Monica
looked up and gasped.

“Lulu, for fuck’s sake,” she spat out. The
Galloway twin waved her arms and Monica moved over and let Luella sit on her
seat.

“Thank you very much,” the Galloway said.

Monica laughed. “Well, nice to see you
here. I thought you were back in the States. How is your hand?”

“It’s alright,” Lulu muttered. Her hand was
bandaged. “I didn’t fly back. I was here, of course.”

Of course? What could be more important
than mending your injured hand as soon as possible? Monica watched her from the
corner of her eye.

“Did you see all of Gabriella’s matches?”
Monica asked quietly.

Lulu nodded, almost defiantly.

“I don’t care that she hates me,” she
mumbled. “I’m still proud of her.”

Monica leaned forward and looked Luella in
the eye. “Why would you say that she hates you?”

“She didn’t even call me after I got
injured,” Luella replied. It looked like she swallowed down a few tears. “I
know she is mad at me because she felt left out when I got all the attention
because of that stupid Grand Slam.”

Monica didn’t say anything. When two people
fell out after being so close together for such a long time, for each person
the situation was of a different reality. Gabriella had cut off ties with her
twin because she was guarding a secret she didn’t know how to share with her
sister. Jealousy, however, could have played a part as well, and only this
reality was graspable for Lulu.

Down on the court, Gabriella hit a
dropshot. Sasha barely moved to get to it. The big green scoreboard in the
corner of Centre Court switched. Gabriella had match point.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Monica finally
said, watching Gabriella tossing the ball up to serve for the Championship.
“She needs you more than ever.”

Her last words almost drowned in the
frenetic cheers of ten thousand tennis fans. With a blasting ace, Gabriella
Galloway had won the 2012 Wimbledon Championship.

***

Was it better than last year? Gabriella
held her breath and listened to her heart pounding. Did it beat faster today?

After a few seconds she took a deep breath
again. Yes, it did feel better simply because her name had been announced and
her name would be in the headlines of all newspapers. But the initial surprise,
the realization of what she was capable of, would always belong to last year’s
win. In the end it didn’t matter. For the second time in her career Gabriella
sat in the Wimbledon locker room, having won the Championship. Luella would
never know what that felt like.

Gabriella stood up and opened her locker.
She had taken her time under the shower, as she knew what was to come – a press
conference and photo shoot marathon for the next two days – just like last
year. Tomorrow, after the guys’ final, they would all celebrate at the
Wimbledon Winners Ball – the champions and the runners-up. Unlike last year,
Gabriella was determined to have fun. Three facts would help tremendously. She
had entered the Top 10. She had won her own Grand Slam. And there was a girl
who loved her back.

Gabriella bit her lip thinking about the
person she wanted to talk to more than anybody else at the moment. Sasha had
looked a bit flustered during the match. More than once Gabriella couldn’t help
it but give Sasha a radiant smile, until she noticed that it threw Sasha. Her
poor lover couldn’t find the court if it had been triple the size. It was
actually cute, Gabriella thought.

If everything went well Gabriella would
soon make good for the tough loss she had bestowed on Sasha. She only needed to
wait for a good moment to talk to the Czech.

Just when she had finished packing her bag
and had taken a bite from a left-over nutrition bar, the door of the locker
room was opened. Gabriella sighed. Probably someone from the tournament to pick
her up and get her ready for the cameras. There was no getting away from these
duties and she was sure that last year had only been a foretaste of what was to
come. But one thing wouldn’t happen to her. She wouldn’t follow in her sister’s
footsteps and get detached from reality. She wouldn’t let money rule her life.
She’d simply focus on her tennis.

She looked up to greet the visitor but
almost choked on her nutrition bar.

“Hey,” Gabriella breathed. Impossible to
say more at the sight of Sasha Mrachova who looked immaculate as ever. Had she
just played a Grand Slam final? It was hard to believe.

Sasha didn’t say anything. She just nodded.

Gabriella swallowed hard. Was this the
right moment? Should she confess right now, or perhaps wait until later?
Sasha’s silence made her nervous.

“Good match,” Gabriella said, even though
they had assessed that already when shaking hands at the end of the match.

“Yes, it was,” Sasha said finally. She
didn’t seem convinced. Sasha’s disheartenment made the twin miserable. She
should go over to Sasha and kiss her. Yes, that was maybe even better than
trying to find words. A kiss could say it all. But before she could make a move
forward, Sasha had opened her mouth again.

“Congratulations on defending your title,”
Sasha said slowly. Gabriella smiled. How sweet was that?

“Thank you,” she whispered. But then she
stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped smiling. Title defense? How could Sasha
know, that is was her who had won the Wimbledon title last year? But it was too
late now.

She had just admitted that she had won
twice.

“You know that I played for Lulu?” she
asked.

Sasha smirked. “Please stop pretending,
Gabriella! You for sure remember when we were standing here last year and I
told you that I knew your secret.”

Gabriella blinked. So, Sasha never thought
Lulu was gay but had been referring to the twins’ match swapping? But this
could only mean that Sasha knew another detail of Gabriella’s life.

“So, you know it was me who – ,” she
swallowed her last words, seeing Sasha’s stone face.

“Who lied to me? Who pretended to be
someone else? Who deceived me for months and months, night after night?” Sasha
finished Gabriella’s sentence. “Yes, I know that.”

“Sasha,” Gabriella began, holding out her
hand.

“Please stop this,” Sasha interrupted her.
“You can stop being a liar now. Enjoy your win. You earned it well.” She turned
around and vanished through the door.

Liar. The word echoed through the empty
locker room. Gabriella sank onto the bench and looked into her hands.

She was a Top 10 tennis player. She was a
Grand Slam champion. And she was a liar. There was no girl who loved her back.
Within two minutes her life had taken a very wrong turn. And there was no one
else to blame than herself.

FOR WHOM

THE BELL TOLLS

London, Great Britain

“Only three weeks and it looks like we are
on a different planet altogether,” Samantha Watts remarked.

She and Paola stood on the rooftop of the
Wimbledon media centre and looked across the familiar place. But the Olympic
tennis tournament had given the All England Lawn and Croquet Club a different
face – a very pinkish face.

Instead of the traditional green side
fences and barricades the Olympic colors had taken over and purple, pink and
lilac fences framed the courts. Also, instead of the canonical white dresses
the players were obliged to wear during the Wimbledon Championship, the participants
were now wearing clothes that matched the colors of their country’s flag.

Olympic Wimbledon looked like a rag rug.

“The grass is still green,” Paola remarked
laconically.

“Not so much,” Sam replied straight away.

In fact, she had talked to Mr. Wilson
earlier this morning and the groundskeeper admitted that they had had trouble
restoring the grass in time after the Championships.

“All the grass court players seem to have
trouble,” Paola nodded. “Shame that the Wimbledon finalists are already out of
the tournament.”

Gabriella Galloway had crashed out of the
Olympic Games with a devastating straight set loss to Greek player Sophia
Thrassa.

“Sasha looked particularly clumsy
yesterday,” Sam shook her head in amazement as she recalled the Czech’s third
round match. “She was moving like an elephant.”

Paola turned away from the view and looked
at her friend. A thought had sneaked into her mind.

“Oh my,” she whispered. “Could it be that
she is pregnant?”

Sam gasped. “Well, that would explain the
weird timing for the wedding, right?”

Paola nodded excitedly. “I thought they had
to be mad to schedule it in the middle of the Olympic competition. But whenever
she is asked about it she harps on about her privacy. In her last interview I
was about to tell her that if she wanted a private wedding she should have
scheduled it in the off-season in Alaska.”

They turned back to the tournament and
looked over at Court 18 where a doubles match was in full swing. The Canadian
team, Polly and Bernadette, was taking on the Russians, Ivana and Tamara.

“Match points,” Paola exclaimed. She
pointed down at the court. Polly gave Bernadette a low-five and sprinted to the
baseline. Sam checked the score. The Canadian team had a 6-3 5-4 lead over the
Russians, and the score in this game was now 40-15.

With a pin-point ace on the T-line Polly
secured her team the win.

They watched the handshake and the short
celebration of the Canadian team who were cheered by a delegation of Canuck
fans.

“Semifinal against Michelle and Marieke.
Should be a good one,” Sam said. “Yes, well done,” Paola cheered. “Great to see
Polly doing so well. She had a hard time in the beginning of the year.”

“Her mother was sick, wasn’t she?”

Paola nodded. “She doesn’t like to talk
about it but her mom has a heart condition. They hope for a transplant, but you
know how hard it is to find matching donors.”

***

“Ready?”

Gabriella nodded and lifted her bag into
the trunk of the waiting cab. Monica picked up her second bag and handed it to
her.

“Don’t be upset,” the older player said,
patting Gabriella’s shoulder.

The American doubles team had lost their
match the other day. Gabriella had also lost her singles match. The Olympic
tournament was over for them and they had decided that it would be best to
leave as soon as possible to get ready for the U.S. hard court season.

Gabriella sat in the back seat and Monica
ordered the driver to the airport.

While the English landscape was passing by,
Gabriella looked out of the window. The week everybody had been looking forward
to had turned out to be a dreadful time. She simply couldn’t concentrate on the
tennis with the possibility of running into Sasha. And then what? Run after
her? Talk to her? Tell her how she felt? That she was sorry? How to explain the
deception?

But she didn’t meet Sasha. The Czech
avoided her at all costs. The twin didn’t see her in the locker room, nor in
the players’ lounge. Instead of getting the chance to talk to Sasha, she had to
endure the endless gossip about Sasha’s upcoming wedding.

“What’s going on?” Monica’s startled voice
woke her up from her daydreaming. She turned around.

“What?”

“You are crying,” Monica replied, touching
Gabriella’s shoulders.

Gabriella shook her head, but there was no
denying that tears were streaming out of her eyes.

“Is it the tennis?” Monica asked. “Or is it
something else?”

Gabriella looked at the older player she
had learned to trust in the last couple of months. Should she tell her about
Sasha? About the charade she had played on the Czech and the price she was
paying now?

“Yeah,” she mumbled finally. “Something
else.”

Monica tapped her heart. “This?”

“Yes. I fucked up. I fell in love with – ,”
she hesitated. She looked at the cab driver then lowered her head. “You know I
told you about it.”

Monica nodded.

“Well, it’s Sasha,” Gabriella mumbled. “I’m
in love with Sasha. But she thought I was Luella. She didn’t take it too well
when she found out that I lied to her.”

The older player raised her eyebrows. Yes,
it was hard to grasp, Gabriella had to admit.

“You made her believe you were Lulu?”

Gabriella sighed. She had spent many
sleepless nights attempting to find an answer to this question.

“I thought I had a better chance,” she
mumbled. “Everybody is hot for Lulu. It’s always Lulu. I just wanted a piece of
the pie.”

The last word made her think of the wedding
cake that was probably prepared at this very moment. Sasha had told her that
she had ordered some Czech cakes and that the wedding planners had had no idea
where to get them. They had shared a good laugh over Mr. Clutterbuck and Ms.
Hardwood.

“Oh, Gabriella,” Monica put her arm around
her.

“I screwed up so badly,” Gabriella sobbed.
“The worst thing is that I believe Sasha also fell in love with me, but now she
is terribly hurt and we will never be together.”

The cab was cruising along the motorway,
taking her further and further away from Sasha.

“Never say never,” Monica suddenly said.

She tapped the driver on the shoulder.

“Take the next exit and turn around. This
young lady is going back!”

***

“It’s not going to get any better by you
staring at us,” Amanda mumbled.

She, Elise and Natsumi had found a place in
a coffee shop in Wimbledon Village. Neither had touched their drinks yet.

“This is a disaster,” Natsumi said with a
strained voice. “You have no idea how terrible this is.”

Amanda sighed impatiently. “Well, then why
don’t you let us in? I think we deserve to know what this was all about.”

Natsumi finally took a sip of her coffee,
then shook her head.

“No, better you don’t know.”

“Really, Natsumi?” Amanda hissed. “You let
us carry your big prick around the world, you keep us from sending that thing
via mail and then you’re surprised that it gets lost on the way?”

“I didn’t tell you to open a sealed box. I
didn’t tell you to throw away the box.” Natsumi snapped back.

“Please, don’t fight,” Elise interrupted
them. She turned to Natsumi. “We had to get rid of the box. It was moldy.”

“Moldy?” Natsumi shook her head. “What did
you do with it?”

Elise looked down into her cup.

“I’m so sorry, Natsumi,” she whispered. “I thought
it was a good idea to hide the box in a fish tank.”

Seeing Elise so crestfallen, Amanda’s heart
tightened. This wasn’t their fault, certainly not Elise’s. She shot Natsumi an
angry stare and put her arm around Elise’s shoulders.

“It actually was a brilliant idea,” she
stated, turning to Natsumi. “Can you imagine the embarrassment if Elise’s
parents had found out that we were traveling with a big wooden cock?”

She poured some sugar into her coffee.

“Elise came up with some wonderful ideas to
hide your stupid dildo,” Amanda continued. “And you have nothing better to do
than to bash us for trying to make the best of this bumfuckery.”

Natsumi fell silent. Amanda’s rant had
surely brought her back down to earth.

“I’m sorry,” Natsumi finally said. “I shouldn’t
have burdened you with this task. It’s just that I didn’t know anybody else to
ask.”

“It sounds like the thing is very important
to you,” Elise wondered.

Natsumi hesitated. “Not for me actually.
For a friend,” she admitted. “I promised to get the box to Brighton but then I
got injured. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you in on the details. It’s really too
complicated a story.”

“Not even now?” Amanda asked. “We might be
able to help you if we knew what this is about.”

But Natsumi shook her head. “No, you can’t
help. And the less you know the better.”

This was frightening, Amanda thought.
Natsumi usually wasn’t shy of speaking about what was going on in her life. She
never seemed able to keep secrets. A scene from the latest
Tennis Nurse
novel crossed Amanda’s mind.

She grabbed Natsumi’s hand and leaned
forward. “You’re not having trouble with the Japanese mafia, are you? This
pecker wasn’t some sort of Yakuza ritual phallus, right?”

For a short moment Natsumi stared at Amanda
– flabbergasted. Then she began giggling.

“No,” she snorted. “It’s bad, but it’s not
that bad.”

For five minutes she couldn’t stop
laughing. Eventually, Elise and Amanda, too were chuckling over the absurdity
of their woodpecker quest.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Amanda
said finally. Their laughing fit had filled them with new enthusiasm for
finding a solution.

“When did you see it for the last time?”
Natsumi asked. “Please try to remember the exact circumstances.”

“We went down to the practice courts and
Angus saw the racquet we had attached the
mara
to, and he played a bit
with it. Then he leaned it against the fence and we forgot about it. When we
wanted to pack our bags it was gone.”

“Was there anyone else at the practice
courts?”

Elise shook her head. “Just Polly,” she
smiled. “But she was busy hitting balls. She made it to the final in doubles
and was practicing with Bernadette.”

Natsumi gasped. “Bernadette? Bernadette
LeBlanc?”

“Yes,” Elise frowned. “They’ve been playing
doubles for half a year now.”

“I must have missed that,” Natsumi mumbled.
She was deep in thought, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t understand how she
could have possibly found out,” she said to herself.

“Found out about what?” Amanda asked.

Natsumi looked up. “That the box was to be
delivered to Brighton. And about its content.”

“You believe she wanted to steal the
woodpecker? Why? Is it very expensive?” Elise asked excitedly. Natsumi nodded.

“How much are we talking about?” Amanda
wanted to know.

Natsumi looked at them. “1.3 million
dollars.”

***

“Nervous?”

Sasha snorted. “Me? Never.”

Why was the wedding such a big thing, Sasha
wondered. Everybody asked her about it and yet she wasn’t even changing her
name, nor would she take time off from the tennis.

The plan had been to lure Anastasia away
from her hotel room so Ted and Tom could take a look at her laptop. But when
the chair umpire had entered the restaurant Sasha immediately saw that she was
carrying her laptop bag, as she had come straight from the tournament. For a
moment Sasha considered leaving the guys uninformed. The thought of them
rummaging through Anastasia’s room was too good. However, she finally sent a
short text to keep them from roping down the roof to Anastasia’s hotel room
window.

There was still Plan B, and even though she
had protested vehemently, after two glasses of wine she began to get fond of
the idea of spending a night with Anastasia. Yes, why not? At least with
Anastasia she knew that what you saw was what you got. The thought of Gabriella
made her livid. For a short moment Sasha almost pounded her glass to pieces.
Then she asked Anastasia if she could come over.