Love Game - Season 2012 (9 page)

When the bathroom door opened and Amanda
stuck her head in, Elise looked up. She had to be sitting here for eons. Amanda
gave her a questioning look.

“Can’t you sleep?” she asked with raised
eyebrows. Elise shook her head.

“Because of the storm?”

Elise shook her head again.

Amanda gave her a little smile, took
Elise’s hands and pulled her up.

“This won’t be the last time we’ll have to
play against each other,” she said while leading Elise back to the bedroom.

Elise nodded. “I know.”

“Here’s what we will do,” Amanda said.
“We’ll hit some balls. Like we always do. No big deal. And the better one will
win.”

Elise wasn’t convinced it would be that
easy. She shrugged but then climbed into bed again. Amanda lay down on the
other side and gave Elise a hug under the blanket.

“If you win, you’ll order me that expensive
Swiss Orange & Rum chocolate,” she continued. “If I win, I’ll read you the
whole
Tennis Nurse
novel as compensation.”

“Now I really should consider tanking the
match,” Elise laughed, thinking about hours and hours of listening to Amanda’s
voice.

“Yeah, me too,” Amanda sighed. “Okay, if I
win you order the chocolate for me as a reward, and if you win, I’ll be you
reading slave. Deal?”

Elise nodded. While the storm was howling
outside, she soon fell asleep again warmed by Amanda’s embrace and comforted by
the thought of Amanda’s face when the Australian would open the box of
chocolates arriving from Switzerland.

MUCH ADO

ABOUT NOTHING
                                                     

Melbourne, Australia

“Are you excited for the Olympics yet?”
Agnes asked, pouring Monica a glass of Molly Dooker. They had lost their
doubles quarterfinal the day before, but there was no need to hurry out of town
as Candice, Agnes’s partner, was working at the Australian Open until the final
day.

Monica grinned. “Yes. I think we will have
fun.”

The Olympic spirit had recently hit the WTA
summer camp with the younger players demanding to hear stories from those who
had participated in previous Olympic games.

“But I know, when it’s over, my heart will
break.”

Most of the players, even those who were
already considered veteran players, had only played in the 2008 Olympics. Only
a few could claim to have attended twice. For Monica, however, it was the
fourth time she would play for her country. Agnes knew it would also be the
last time for her and she was sure Monica wanted to make it count.

“Yes, it’s special, isn’t it?”

They both nodded silently, thinking back to
the previous Olympic Games they had participated in. Agnes had taken home a
silver medal in the doubles competition, but the most memorable event had
occurred off-court. She grinned, thinking about it. From the corner of her eye,
she saw that Monica was grinning, too.

“By the way, Boom Boom’s back!”

Agnes laughed. Like so often, they were
having the same thought.

“Yes, I was so surprised to hear that.”

Marieke Bender, the highest-ranked Dutch
player, had announced that she wanted to play doubles at the Olympics with her
retired compatriot, Michelle van der Boom. They planned to team up first at the
American spring tournaments in Indian Wells and Miami, and then play the
Olympic competition together.

“I wonder what she has been doing all this
time. I’m pretty sure she’s bored with normal life. We have to convince her to
come back to the tour as a commentator.”

Agnes chuckled. “That would be a grossly
negligent endangerment of everyone’s privacy.”

They both laughed out loud. Michelle sure
had a reputation to lose. Besides tennis, she specialized in indiscreet gossip.

“Honestly, I’d love to have her back. She
sure knows how to live it up. By the way, I’ve talked to Morgana about playing
doubles at the Games. We will play the grass season together, and perhaps the
American spring season to see what we need to work on. We might have a good
chance.”

Monica nodded. “Yes, Morgana is doing fine
in singles. I’m sure if she commits to doubles you two have a chance to win a
medal.”

Agnes gave her friend a side glance. “I’ll
come back to you after the Olympics.” She patted Monica’s shoulder until the
American laughed.

“How very noble of you,” Monica smiled. “
I
might not come back to
you
, however. I’m really looking forward to
playing with Gabriella. Love to give the girl some guidance. She seems to
struggle a bit these days.”

Agnes laughed.

“Good girl. Inspire and motivate the
youth,” she winked at Monica. She raised her glass and Monica joined in on the
toast. “To age.”

Agnes chuckled, but then she remembered
something she wanted to tell Monica. “Bernadette has recruited Polly,” she said
pensively.

“Her only chance,” Monica shrugged.
“There’s no one else nearly good enough in the Canadian team to win a medal,
and Polly has a good game for the grass.”

“We should keep an eye on them,” Agnes
mumbled.

Monica raised an eyebrow. “It’s just
tennis. Half a year of preparing for the Olympics. I don’t think we need to
worry. But while we are at it – you should keep an eye on Morgana. Check what
she is doing and where she is digging. I doubt she has been put off by the
warning shot.”

Agnes looked over at Monica, then nodded.
“I had it in mind when I asked her to play doubles.”

They both raised their glasses again but
this time silently. The year had only begun, but Agnes had the feeling it would
be a topsy-turvy one. They should enjoy the peace as long as it lasted.

***

Sasha knocked on the hotel room door and
waited for Kurt to open it.

“Please sit down,” Kurt said pointing to
the couch.

Sasha didn’t like the stressed undertone in
his voice. What was it now?

“We have a little problem, Sasha,” he
began. “It’s about your ol’ factory business.”

Sasha frowned. Kurt had given the issue
with her nose this code name, so as to avoid telling details, but Sasha hated
it. Her hitting partner in Sydney had even asked her if her family owned a
factory in the Czech Republic. Instinctively, she touched the tip of her nose,
hiding the organ from view for a couple of seconds.

“We monitored the internet and – surprise –
your dear fans are speculating about some mysterious incident in Istanbul.”

Sasha sighed.

“Something slipped out. They know about –
,” he tipped his nose. “And even though nobody knows exactly what happened this
only opens the door to even wilder speculations. They have started to believe
that Jaro beats you.”

Sasha looked up, shocked. “That’s horrible.
Why would they think that? We published nice pictures of us before Christmas.”

“You know how people are,” Kurt shrugged.

Sasha was still shaking her head. It was
unbelievable. All this because she had taken an interest in the Galloway plot.

“It’s not nice but we have to find an
answer to the problem. For the first step we need you to make more appearances
with Jaro,” Kurt explained. “We need to make absolutely sure nobody questions
the authenticity of the relationship.”

Sasha clenched her teeth, but nodded. How
was she supposed to concentrate on her tennis and on regaining the No. 1 spot
if she was burdened with faking a non-existent love life?

She got up. “I have a massage in fifteen
minutes. I’m confident you’ll think of a great solution,” she said, then headed
out of the room.

Walking down the hallway, Sasha inhaled
deeply. The massage had been a lie. She just didn’t want to think about her ol’
factory business, about Lulu or the past few weeks. She felt so tired, hiding
away from the world. Sometimes it seemed unreal that she had confidently posed
in front of cameras only a few months ago.

“Sasha!”

The well-known, high-pitched voice made her
stop in her tracks and gave her goosebumps. This was the last person she needed
to see right now. Slowly, she turned around to face Luella Galloway.

“What do you want?”

Lulu approached her quickly. She didn’t
look friendly.

“No, Sasha,” the Galloway twin cut her off.
“What do
you
want?”

She stopped right in front of Sasha and
pulled something out of her handbag.

“Was that you?” She pressed a letter-sized
photograph against Sasha’s chest. From the corner of her eye Sasha recognized
the picture. It was the one of her looking at Lulu. So someone had indeed given
Lulu the picture.

“What was me?” she asked.

“Did you slip that photo under my door?”
Lulu hissed.

“No!” Sasha almost screamed out. Then she
steadied herself. “When did you receive it?”

Lulu hesitated. Sasha could see in her eyes
that she was wondering why Sasha had asked about this particular detail. Also, Lulu
didn’t seem to like being in the position of being questioned.

“Please, tell me,” Sasha said calmly. She
hated being the supplicator but this information could be important.

“Three days ago,” Lulu finally revealed.

Sasha’s heart sank. Three days ago a
million players had been running around in Melbourne. There was no way to
narrow the search.

“I know something is up with you,” Lulu
spoke again. “Leave me alone.”

To underline her point, she took the
picture into both hands and slowly tore it apart. “Stop stalking me.”

“I’m not stalking you. You are dreaming. I
have a fiancé.”

“But of course you have,” Lulu smirked.
“Just stay away from me.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

For a while Lulu looked Sasha over, then
she took a step back, flung the remaining pieces of the picture into Sasha’s
face and turned around for the grand exit.

“Good,” she said while walking away.

After Lulu had disappeared behind a corner,
Sasha sank down onto her knees and began collecting the shredded pieces. No
need for anybody to find them.

There was half her mouth, one eye, the
other half of her mouth, the second eye. There were pieces with Lulu in the
background, and pieces with Sasha’s hair.

And then there was her nose. Sasha closed
her eyes. How had it come to this? What did Lulu want? The Galloway had kissed
her. Sasha hadn’t done anything at first. And when she finally approached Lulu
in Istanbul, the twin had broken her nose.

Sasha shook her head. She didn’t understand
this woman. She didn’t understand anything. How could she have become so
helpless, so confused? She opened her eyes and looked at herself in little
pieces. She was literally torn.

***

Elise placed her racquet bag on the floor,
let herself fall onto the couch and closed her eyes. Her morning had been quite
busy. She had just finished an autograph session, followed by a photo shoot
with Tom for the WTA site. Now she felt almost as exhausted as she had after
the fourth round match against Amanda. From the corner, she could hear the buzz
of a vending machine. Three players were talking in staccato Spanish, and from
the other end came the giggling of a group of Russians.

“Good morning,” a voice next to her said,
and Elise opened her eyes. Natsumi was beaming at her, gesturing for her to
move over and make room on the couch.

“Waiting for Amanda?”

Elise nodded. “They are in the second set,”
she said. “Won the first.”

Amanda was playing mixed doubles with
fellow Australian, Angus Leslie.

“So this will only take four or five hours
longer, right?” Natsumi smirked. “I’ll probably finish before them.”

Elise jabbed her in the ribs. Her fourth
round match against Amanda had lasted four hours and nine minutes. It was one
of the longest matches in the history of the Australian Open and it had a good
chance of being voted best match of the tournament. But in the end only one of
them could win the grueling match and advanced to the quarterfinal – Elise.

However, the match against Amanda had taken
its toll. Even though she had had one day of rest to regroup she, couldn’t keep
up with Tamara Parova in the quarterfinal. After a close first set, she lost
the match 5-7 2-6, barely able to move in the second set.

“Take Tamara out for me, will you?” Elise
asked.

“I’ll do my best,” Natsumi promised. She
had upset Marieke Bender in her own quarterfinal and for the first time in her
life she would play in a Grand Slam semifinal. She was scheduled for the first
evening match, beginning in one hour.

Suddenly the sound of a computer game
jingled from Natsumi’s handbag.

“Your phone.”

Natsumi frowned. “Yes, people have been
trying to call me all day. They want to wish me luck. I’m not answering
anymore.”

The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Elise
looked at Natsumi.

“Okay, okay,” she sighed, rummaging through
the bag. When she took the phone out and looked at the display she squealed.
“My mom,” she informed Elise, then answered and listened.

After a few seconds her face dropped.

“
Hai
,” she said, then hung up.
Slowly, she turned to Elise, who had begun to feel nervous about the sudden
change of mood.

“My mother is on her way to the hotel,”
Natsumi mumbled. “She wanted to surprise me and flew in for the match.”

“Oh, that is great, Natsumi. She must be so
proud of you,” Elise smiled. But Natsumi didn’t look happy about the family
support.

“She wants to stay in my room,” Natsumi
croaked.

“Is it very untidy?” Elise wanted to know,
thinking about hers and Amanda’s room. She wouldn’t want her mother to set foot
in it.

“No.”

“Don’t you like your mom?” Elise asked
uneasily.

Natsumi looked up. “No, that’s not it. She
is just – very nosey.”