"Have you talked to your brother?"
Gaby groaned and put her hands on her stomach. "No. He's been on the phone all morning and he won't understand, anyway."
Tess frowned. Both at the news that Max was on the phone— hopefully not fielding the same offers she was, because knowing him, he'd turn them all down—and at Gaby's unwillingness to talk to him about what was bothering her. "Why wouldn't he understand?"
All of a sudden Gaby scrambled off the bed, clutching her stomach. "Bathroom?"
Tess immediately pointed to the door behind her. "Through there."
She followed Gaby as far as the bathroom door, which Gaby had closed behind her. A moment later came the unmistakable sounds of retching. Tess shuddered, but kept her concerns about Gaby's health in check. At least until she had the chance to ask her a few questions.
She heard water running and some splashing, then finally a somewhat paler Gaby opened the door. Tess smiled. "Feel better?"
The teenager nodded briefly, then crossed the room back to the bed. She didn't fling herself quite as dramatically as before, but she did lay down, curling up on her side. "What's wrong with me? Food poisoning or something?"
"I doubt it. We all ate from the same kitchen last night and this morning." Tess crossed the room and sat on the bed next to Gaby. Without thinking, she reached out and stroked Gaby's long, glossy ponytail. It was as silky to the touch as it was shiny to look at. The kid really did have all the bases covered. Killer game, fit body, natural good looks. She was every sponsor's dream. All she needed was a title or two under her belt, be a threat in the slams, and Tess wouldn't be surprised if she was signing endorsement deals before her first slam title was in her trophy case. "I think you have a good case of the nerves."
Gaby rolled to her back, a surprised look on her face. "I never get nervous before a match. Not sick nervous. I just get anxious to get out there and get going. I can't win sitting in the locker room. But nerves don't get to me. Not like this."
"You're not in amateur rounds anymore."
"I know that. I played in the French and I didn't puke my guts up. I played on the show court and everything."
"First-time luck," Tess said. "You had nothing to lose and everything to gain. For you it was like a field trip to an exotic place you hoped to go back to one day." She smiled. "What was there to be nervous about?"
"Oh, I don't know, thousands of cheering fans shouting things at me in French, rooting for my opponent? Who just happened to be the number-one player in the world at the time?"
"And you fed off of that because you were the underdog, and you could use it to your advantage."
"I'm certainly the underdog here."
"In the minds of the tournament directors and the other players, maybe. But not in your mind." She tilted her head so she could match Gaby stare for stare. "Playing Serena on a grand-slam show court where she's won the title is one thing. You played to win, but you understood the odds, and when she came out swinging, you hung in there the best you could and were happy to take a set off of her."
"It would have been better to beat her."
"Sure, it's always better to win. But you made her play. And for your first time out there? You turned heads, people sat up and paid attention to you. That increased attention has followed you to London."
Gaby lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I guess."
"You know. You made it further in Birmingham, played Venus well, and now your association with me has elevated that attention even more."
"I don't mind that. I really don't. In fact, I kind of like it. Don't let Max hear that I said that." Her lips curved in a hint of a smile, the first one Tess had seen today. "Not that he hasn't figured it out. I wish he'd stop jumping all over you, though. I've always felt this way, always had this kind of attitude. He knows that, but I think it scares him. Well, I know it does. So it's easier to blame it all on you. I'm sorry for that." She shifted her head on the bedspread so she could look at Tess's face more squarely. "He really is a nice guy. I don't know why you two bring out the worst in each other, but normally he's a great guy, funny, charming."
Tess smiled dryly. "I'll take your word for it."
Gaby's smile grew until it almost reached her eyes, which were still too dark, too worried. "So, if I'm okay with the attention and I've handled the pressure of a slam already, why do you think this is a case of the nerves and not just some bad shrimp or something?"
Tess stroked her hair again, her smile softening a little as she remembered exactly how she felt when she'd been in Gaby's place. She hadn't gone so far as to throw up before her first round, but she knew she'd have felt a hell of a lot better if she had. Might have played better, too. "The difference here is, you want it this time. You want Davina so bad you can taste it. You know you're finally in a first-round slam match you have an absolute chance at winning. So now it matters."
"It always matters,"
"True. But be honest… you want this one more. You're supposed to. You're supposed to want each successive one more. The more you can do, the more you want to prove it."
"I don't feel like I'm proving anything. I just started out here. I mean, I'm not dense, I know there are expectations of what kind of pro player I'm going to become, but I certainly don't feel the pressure to become a superstar overnight or anything."
"Maybe not from outside forces you don't. But then, you don't strike me as the kind of player or person who really gives a damn what other people think."
Gaby pushed up and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing Tess. "You're right, I don't. Neither did you, right?"
"Other than my family? No, I didn't care."
"I do care what Max thinks." She looked down, fiddled with the lace trim on her perfectly white tennis socks. "He's given up everything for me." She looked up, and it struck Tess how odd it was to be looking into the face of a teenager, but into the eyes of someone who seemed so much older. In too many ways, it was like looking into the mirror of her own past. "But he doesn't pressure me. If anything, he's too protective and doesn't let me push as hard as I'd like to. He's afraid I'll burn out."
"He's a wise man. And he's obviously been paying attention. It's a real fear to have."
"I can play eleven tournaments this year and he's only got me scheduled for eight. I know I am capable of—"
"I know," Tess broke in. "We know. But I can speak with the benefit of hindsight. I didn't burn out, but my body didn't hold up like it might have if I hadn't pushed so hard."
"But that fall you took, nothing could have helped that."
Tess shrugged. "Maybe. But maybe if I'd rehabbed my initial shoulder injuries better and not pushed to come back so quickly, it might have been reparable this last time. I don't know. I do know your brother and I are at loggerheads a great deal of the time."
"Mostly about me."
Tess grinned. "Always about you. What else do we have in common?"
Gaby went back to picking at the lace on her socks.
Tess's smile faded slightly, but she let that go and stayed focused on her message. "I'm not complaining. I'm on your side, remember? But I also think, in this very isolated incidence, of course, that he's doing the right thing by bringing you out on tour slowly."
"I'm almost seventeen. I can enter fifteen events then, and I want all fifteen. It's not that much. Do you know how many titles Steffi had by then? She'd already won her first slam. So did Chris Evert and Serena and Venus. I just want to get in and start moving up the ranks."
"Eight tournaments, not to mention fifteen, is a healthy number over a ten-month season. And you didn't start until later this year, so it's even more compressed." She lifted a hand when Gaby went to argue. "I know, I know, you're young, you're invincible. Today, maybe. But not forever. Which brings me back to that trick stomach of yours. You do want this bad. We both know that. Just like we both know you can do the math. With only a handful of tournaments this season, doing well at the slams will leapfrog you ahead in the ranking
s faster than doing well in smaller tournaments. Just like we both know your quarter of the draw here is probably the best you could have hoped for. One or two lucky breaks up the chain and you could have a nice run. All you need is another giant killer to take someone out above you and—"
Gaby's eyes lit up. "You think I can be a giant killer?"
"I think you gave both the Williams sisters a pretty good scare."
Gaby's lips quirked with just the right amount of cockiness.
"True."
"Exactly." Tess beamed. "Now you want Davina. And whomever else you can beat here."
"I haven't told Max this, but when the draw came out and I saw my chances, I made myself a promise."
"Which was?"
"To do whatever it takes to make it to the second week."
"Pretty tall order for an unseeded player."
"You don't think I can do it?" She didn't look crushed so much as defiant.
Tess smiled. That was exactly what she wanted to see. "I didn't say that. Big goals are good to have. Mandatory, in my book. Just don't be so busy looking at the big goal that you lose sight of all the little ones you have to make to get there."
"I haven't," Gaby assured her, then smiled a bit slyly. "Why do you think I did whatever it took to get you to stick with me for the tournament?"
That got a laugh out of Tess. "God, what am I going to do with you? If I didn't know better, I'd think the tennis gods are punishing me by saddling me with a mini-me."
Gaby scooted to the edge of the bed. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
Tess stood. "Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for." She reached for Gaby's hand and hauled her upright. "How's the stomach?"
Gaby paused for a moment, as if she had to think about it. "Fine." She laughed. "I guess maybe it was nerves."
"And now?"
"Now I want to go kick some Russian butt.''
"That's my girl."
Gaby was at the door, then turned back. "You are going to be there, right? In the players' box? With Max?"
Funny, all this time, and Tess hadn't really thought about that part. She wanted to watch her play, of course. But she hadn't really thought about actually sitting in the box, looking down across the court. A court she'd played on, won on. How was that going to feel? This morning she'd been too busy thinking about how the rest of her day might be shaping up to let her thoughts go in that direction.
"I'm heading over there soon to see Bobby, catch some of the early action." Which was the truth, only it wasn't necessarily just the action taking place on the court, so much as around the courts, in the media room, the players' lounge, and the sports-casters' booth. It was possible she could be in all those locales today if she played her cards right.
Sentiment aside, she hadn't considered that, as Gaby's supposed coach, she'd be seated in the traditional spot, the players' box, which typically afforded one of the best views of the court. The very public, very high-profile players' box. Everyone would see her sitting there. And the cameras would certainly take advantage of such an easy photo opportunity. The papers reached a limited audience. Tess could make sure the entire world knew of her association with a new, young tennis phenom. "I wouldn't miss it," she told Gaby, sincere in more ways than one.
"Max will make sure you have a pass." Then she ran back across the room and engulfed Tess in a bear hug so tight she swore something might have cracked a little. "Thank you," Gaby whispered fiercely.
Just when Tess felt something akin to a lump forming in her throat, Gaby bounced back, a grin plastered ear to ear across her pretty face, eyes shining. "I won't let you down," she told Tess. "And I'll avenge your loss to Davina. Win-win."
Tess smiled easily in the face of her enthusiasm and confidence. This kind of emotion she knew how to deal with. "Just play your kind of tennis. Stick to your game. And remember what we've gone over. Use it when you need it."
"I will. I'll see you this afternoon. Oh! I almost forgot. I want Aurora to come, too. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't be my coach. I have to go tell Max to make that happen."
"I'm not a coach," Tess said, but the words echoed in the empty room. She slumped against the door, then realized she'd better get moving if she wanted to get down to the grounds with enough time before Gaby's match to make the rounds. If Gaby didn't beat Davina, today could be Tess's only day to make as big a media splash as she could.
She glanced at the papers she'd shoved under the pillows when she'd thought it was Max at the door. A lecture from him was the last thing she needed or wanted today. It was bad enough she'd have to sit next to him in the players' box. Her lips quirked. If she played her cards right, she could squeeze Aurora in the middle between them. Which was exactly where Aurora liked to be in all things, anyway. Problem solved.
She debated at least scanning headlines, but the shower beckoned. She could read them in the limo on the way to Wimbledon, return a few calls, see what she could set up. She hadn't given much thought—okay, any thought—to what she'd wear today. Something eye-catching, of course, but what exactly…
Tess was mentally sorting through the limited remains of her wardrobe. It wouldn't pay to be seen in something she'd already worn and been photographed in, but she didn't exactly have the funds for a quick shopping trip, either. What to do. She was tapping her lip, mulling as she headed toward the bathroom, when a rather rude tapping erupted on the other door to her suite.
"Hold on a second," she shouted, changing paths and going through the door adjoining her bedroom to the sitting room next door. Probably Gaby with some new crisis. "Don't tell me," she called through the door as she grabbed the knob. "You can't find just the right shade of eye shadow to go with all white. Let me tell you, you've come to the wrong"—she opened the door—"place," she finished lamely.
Max filled the doorway.
"To what do I owe this honor?" She pasted a bright smile on her face. "No, let me guess. I talked to Gaby this morning—who was, by the way, convinced she was dying from some rare malady, known to you and me as anxiety stress—and convinced her not to quit the tournament before her first-round match. And you're here to thank me." She leaned on the doorframe and looked at the vein bulging quite impressively in Max's forehead. "No need, really. All in a day's work."
"Have you seen these?" Max asked, slapping the papers she just now realized he held in his hand.
She'd gotten all caught up with that popping vein. And maybe a little bit with the way his jaw went all rugged and square when he clenched it like that. It wasn't quite as sexy when he was mad like this, but it made a person wonder how sexy it would look, you know, if said person could make that jaw clench for other reasons. Hmmm. "What?" she asked, vaguely recalling he'd asked her something.
"These!" He unfolded one of the papers, a gossip rag called Good Day, and snapped it open in her face. "We're front-page news, Tess."
Tess grabbed the paper he was waving in her face so she could see the front-page photo. "What are you ranting about? You knew Gaby and I might make a little splash after our public practice session yesterday."
" 'A little splash'? Is that what you call this?" He shoved the rest of the papers at her. "And who said anything about Gabrielle?"
Tess sat down on the edge of her bed and smoothed out the papers he'd given her. "Oh. Wow."
"Oh? Wow? Yeah, oh. Yeah, wow." Max was pacing the length of the room. He turned to face her. "What are we going to do about oh and wow, Tess?"
She wasn't listening to him. She was too busy looking at the grainy, blown-up photo of her… and Max. Chin to chin over the table in the players' lounge. Someone must have had a cell phone with a camera. Bravo to them, because they'd snapped that one moment in time when she'd been taunting him. Of course, no one else would know that she'd been faking it. There was enough sexual chemistry sizzling in that picture she was surprised the paper didn't spontaneously combust right in her hands.
Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, trying to abs
orb this latest turn of events and what it would mean. How she might use it to her—their—best advantage. She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize Gaby's chances here. But this…
She glanced up at Max and something about the way he was looking at her sparked the imp in her. And it was becoming an increasingly naughty little imp. Which wasn't bothering her nearly as much as it should, all things considered. He was awfully fun to tease. "I don't know why you're so bent," she said casually, perusing the picture at length. "We give great cover photo, you and me." She looked at him and flipped the picture around so he could see it. "You have to admit, in the words of the oh-so-complex and brainy Paris Hilton, we're hot."
His eyebrows threatened to leave his forehead entirely. He was cute when he was riled. Which was basically all the time. Or all the time he was around her, anyway. She wondered what he'd do if she just got up, crossed the room, grabbed him, and kissed that indignant look right off his face. Of course, she wouldn't actually do that. But it didn't stop her from spending a moment or two visualizing it. A girl had to get her fun somehow.
"We need to fix this," he said, voice all deep and edgy.
I know how I want to fix it, Tess thought, but she doubted Max would see it her way. When had he ever? She sighed a little and tossed the paper to the bed. "There's nothing to fix."
"But people will think—"
"So what if they do? Is that such a horrifying thing? Let them speculate. Because that's all it's going to be. But it's press, which isn't a bad thing for Gaby. And it's not directly focused on her, which is a good thing, too. She can play, stir up a buzz, and pretty much stay above the actual gossip." If she wants to, Tess thought. Hmm. She'd have to work on that part.
"So nice that you've thought about Gaby in all this."
"Hey!" she shot back, not liking the tone that had crept into his voice. "It's not like I planned that."
"You didn't seem to mind much yesterday when you were taunting me. You didn't care who was watching."
Not So Snow White Page 21