"You know, Alan," she said, slipping her arm through his, allowing him to open the door to the soundstage for her. And shoving Max as far from her thoughts as humanly possible. "We make a pretty dynamic team."
"I can't fault you there," he said, smiling jovially.
It was the smile that gave her the courage to go for the rest. "So, maybe you should think about offering me something more permanent than an occasional guest spot at the majors." She shot him a cocky wink. "I think we could be very good for each other."
Chapter 21
Court One. Max settled into his seat and tried to calm down enough to just absorb the moment. Gaby was in the quarterfinals and playing on the stadium show court for the first time. It wasn't the famed Centre Court, but it was only one step away. And she was only one match away from playing there, as well, perhaps in front of members of the royal family. As so many tennis greats had before her.
Including the one currently sliding into the seat beside him.
"Isn't this fantastic?" Tess said, bubbling with energy and excitement as always. "I'm so proud of her."
"I thought you were supposed to wait until the match started."
She sent him a sardonic smile. "Gee, nice to see you, too."
"I just meant—"
"I know." She nudged him with her shoulder and leaned closer. "I snuck past the guards. Shh. Don't tell anyone."
Cameras were whirring, shutters were clicking, and all he had to do was look over the rail down at the court to see that a number of them were aimed at the players' box he was seated in. "I think it's too late for that."
She shifted away from him, ignoring him as she looked out over the rapidly filling stands. She was fidgeting and tapping her toes. "God, it feels so strange sitting up here and not down there." She laughed. "I swear I'm more nervous now, though."
It hit Max again, like it had several times when he least suspected it, what this must be like for her. He was so used to giving her a hard time, thinking only of her impact on his sister… and lately, on him, as well, that he didn't stop to think about what she was going through. What must it be like, forced to sit on the sidelines when the last time she'd been here, she'd been down there playing for the title? It couldn't be easy.
But you'd never know it to look at her. Perhaps because she always seemed to be so on top of everything, so confident and so full of life, it was difficult, bordering on impossible, to imagine her as anything but. The words "vulnerable" and "nervous" would never come to mind when thinking of her. Something he'd been doing a great deal more of, of late.
He glanced at her now. Her eyes were sparkling, her bright smile flashing… and yet if anyone looked closer, they'd notice the pinched corners of her mouth, the tight lines at the corners of her eyes. And the way she played with the sunglasses she held in her hands, opening and closing them, over and over. She really was nervous.
"Are you worried she's not ready?" he asked her. So much for his plan not to engage her in any unnecessary conversation. He'd managed to avoid anything but the most mundane of business talk the past two mornings, usually over breakfast at Wexley, with Aurora and Gaby in attendance, reviewing the day's schedule. He hadn't been alone with her since their little episode outside the network soundstage the day before last.
He'd mercifully put both Aurora and Vivian between them during Gaby's match that afternoon. Cowardly? Maybe. He thought of it as self-preservation.
She provoked the hell out of him in ways that made him crazy. He was constantly doing things, saying things, he'd never typically do or say. He'd thought—hoped—to have all that in perspective before spending the afternoon seated next to her today. She was unpredictable, and he knew he provoked her, too. He had no idea what she'd say or do in one of the most public forums on the planet, considering the millions who were watching the event all around the globe. He had no doubt they'd spend some time on camera today, probably more so than usual, given the tennis royalty he was seated next to.
But it surprised him more than a little to realize that some of the butterflies in his stomach had nothing to do with that, or the fact that his sister was playing in the quarterfinals of her very first Wimbledon… and everything to do with the woman seated next to him. And, even more alarming, the anxiety associated with those butterflies wasn't all bad.
"She's as ready as she can be," Tess replied. "I just talked to her in the waiting area and she's nervous, but in a good way, She's edgy and antsy and wound up. She wants to get out there and start hitting the ball, get into the match. You can't ask for more than that."
"Is that how it was for you?"
She glanced at him, obviously surprised. "Is this a trick question?"
He knew he deserved that, just as he knew he should let the whole matter drop right now. But his stomach was flipping around and Gaby hadn't even taken the court yet to warm up. He desperately needed a distraction from what was, so far, the biggest day in his sister's life, and his own, for that matter. He should be reflecting on the path they'd taken to get to this point, think about what this meant to them both.
He shouldn't be thinking about Tess, much less why she smelled so damn good.
"I'm asking because of Gaby," he said, perhaps a shade more tersely than necessary, Which didn't explain why he all but held his breath waiting for her reply. So he kept talking. Although it sounded suspiciously like babbling. He never babbled. "I'm excited for her and nervous as hell. You've been out there, done that. I was just wondering what it felt like for you." Jesus, Max, you're such a moron. Calm the hell down. "And, uh, if you think, based on your experience, that she's going to handle this okay." Lame. So very, very lame.
Tess held his gaze for a second or two longer, apparently trying to figure out what his angle was this time, or more likely what medication he was on, before she finally said, "I think we'll see all facets of Gaby today. I wouldn't be surprised if we get everything she's got, highs, lows, good and bad. She knows she's lucky in some ways to have made it this far, with a few higher seeds getting taken out by other players. But she's also worked damn hard for her spot in the final eight. She deserves to be down there, no matter how she plays today. But I'm guessing her feeling was much like mine in her place." She shot him a cocky grin. "Which was, Well damn, I've made it this far, why the hell not just take the whole damn thing?"
Max couldn't take his eyes off of her.
She broke eye contact first, and looked out across the expansive green grass court below. "She's going to have a lot to juggle out there today. Nerves, stress, the magnitude of playing on a stadium court in front of this many people… not to mention Hilstrom's monster serve."
She glanced at him, but wasn't really seeing him. And he knew when she looked back out over the court again, she was remembering her own triumphs out there. Which had been many. And maybe the rare defeat, as well.
"You know, when you let yourself really, really want, you're forced to open yourself up to everything inside you. You have to be willing to leave it all out there, too, no matter how messy." She looked at him again, only this time she held his gaze directly. "It's the only way to get what you want. At least it's the only way for me."
Max found himself caught up in a way he hadn't anticipated. "Yeah. I think I know what you mean."
Tess blinked, then laughed a little and shifted in her seat, looking out over the stadium once again, and the general hubbub as people continued streaming in. "I think it will be that way with Gaby, too," she added, but a beat too late.
Max was still looking at her. She was definitely nervous and antsy, but if he wasn't mistaken, he might be the cause of just a little of that edginess now. He wasn't sure how that made him feel, but then a roar went up and he was automatically surging to his feet with everyone else as the players made their way onto the court.
"Oh, dear! My goodness. Pardon me, pardon me." Aurora stumbled as she made her way down the row to the players' area.
Vivian reached out to steady her. "Darling, if you d
on't watch where you're going, we're both going to make a very unseemly entrance directly onto the court." She snapped open the oriental fan she carried, which Max noted on a small groan perfectly matched the red, gold, and black silk track suit she wore. Not to mention the chopsticks she'd used to hold her flame-red chignon into place. Oh, the cameras were just going to love this. Quite possibly the most colorful players' box in the one-hundred-plus-year history of Wimbledon.
Again, as was happening far too often of late, he wondered precisely how his life had arrived at this exact moment. He'd pictured this day, imagined Gaby going for a grand-slam title on a big stage like this. He glanced sideways and sighed. He just hadn't imagined it would come with such… flamboyant company.
Vivian took her seat and flipped the fan in front of her face. "Although I dare say, darling, we do spruce up the place a bit. Far too much white for my taste. And mostly cotton, too. Haven't they heard of linen?" She sighed and arranged the folds of her gold-zippered jacket just so. "Honestly, these Brits have no idea how to liven things up."
"Well, I think you both look spectacular," Tess told her, then gave Aurora a hug. "I'm so glad you could make it."
"We wouldn't have missed it. So sorry Mercedes couldn't attend. She's not much for sitting out in the sun, you know," Aurora said.
"I offered her my umbrella." Vivian pulled out the matching horror from her bag, but mercifully left it furled. "She declined. Imagine."
Max sank back in his seat, thankful now he had Tess beside him. He'd use her as a blockade with absolutely no compunction whatsoever.
Aurora leaned past Tess to squeeze his knee, her rings biting into his skin. He'd have permanent scars before this was all said and done. "It's simply all too exciting, Max, dear, isn't it? I swear, I'm becoming addicted to their strawberries and cream here. Such a delightful tradition. You must be so proud."
Of the strawberries and cream? "Certainly," he said, opting for a vague response over one of any substance. He found where conversing with any of the godmothers was concerned, the more vague the better.
Aurora squeezed again, and he swallowed the wince, and the breath of relief when she released her hold. "I'm sure she'll do fabulously well. This is her tournament to win, Max. Mark my words."
He smiled at her and resisted rubbing his now throbbing knee. "We're just really thankful to have made it this far. We both owe you a debt of gratitude."
Aurora waved him away. "Oh, pish posh." She grinned and leaned close to Tess. "A bit of London slang I picked up. I so love their use of the language here."
Max smiled despite himself. He couldn't help it, really. She was just too much.
"Being able to come see Gaby play her matches has been all the reward I need," Aurora told him, then she leaned closer to Tess and whispered just loud enough that he heard her anyway. "We need to talk. After the match, okay?"
Tess nodded. "Sure, no problem, Bobby doesn't play until tomorrow, so I'll catch a ride back with you and Vivi."
Max forced his attention down on the courts. Gaby had already taken a freshly strung racket from her bag and walked to her end of the court, which was right below them, so her back was to them. Inge Hilstrom, the number-two seed here, and the heavy favorite today, arrived at the far end a moment later. They started to warm up, hitting balls back and forth, moving their feet, getting the blood flowing. He wished he could see Gaby's face, but she was moving well, hitting smoothly. There wasn't any sign of nerves, despite the fact that she was playing on Court One.
The winner of this match moved into the semifinals. And a place on Centre Court. One step away from the title round. Go get 'em, Gaby, he silently urged. He was thrilled she'd made it this far and just hoped she played well, win or lose. But the moment, the occasion, was getting to him.
And like Tess said, with only two matches to go for the finals, why not hope a little?
The match started out a little rocky, with both players losing serve and making multiple unforced errors. Apparently, both Inge and Gaby were a little more nervous than they'd first appeared. But a half hour later, after some tense, long rallies, they'd tied it five games to five, and things began to settle down and get serious.
"Rally, dammit," Tess hissed under her breath. Her fingers were curled into fists, pressing into her knees, when she wasn't pounding on them in silent encouragement. "Don't go for the winner so damn early. You've got the stamina. Make her hit more balls. Let her make the mistake."
Max leaned forward as Gaby returned what appeared to be a clean winner to move up six games to five. Then came the call from the lines person. Wide. Point to Inge, which sent the game to its sixth deuce point. And Gaby past the boiling point.
She threw her hands up in the air and, after a glare of disgust at the offending lines person, turned to the chair where the umpire sat perched above the court. "It was on the line. Chalk flew. Check the mark," she demanded.
"It was wide, Miss Fontaine," the chair umpire calmly stated in his crisp British accent. "Please resume play."
Gaby tapped her toes, then stalked to the net. "It was in. You have to come check the mark."
The umpire merely stared her down. "Please. Resume play."
Gaby stared back, then finally turned away. Max breathed a sigh of relief, but it came a moment too soon. She was stalking back to the baseline when her racket went flying to the ground, hitting the spot where she'd stood to make her last serve. The crowd collectively inhaled, not happy with her tantrum. Gaby swore under her breath, but not quietly enough, as it turned out.
"The chair assesses Miss Fontaine a warning. Another will cost you a code violation and the point. Please resume play."
Gaby appeared to consider pushing her case, but the fans, the majority of whom had been surprisingly on her side against the popular higher seed, grew more restless the longer the game was delayed. Some of them began whistling, a fan form of jeering.
"Come on, Gabs, back to the line," Max murmured. "Keep your head in."
"She's fine. She needs to blow off steam. Settle down a bit. Trust me." She looked at Max and grinned. "Besides, the ball was clearly on the line. Watch the replay later. I'll put money on it. She was right to bark. It will serve her well later in the match. They've been put on notice; they'll watch more carefully."
Max didn't engage her on that particular debate. Too many times he'd watched players lose their cool, his sister included, then lose the game because they were so distracted by whatever injustice they perceived—wrongly or rightly—had been inflicted against them, their focus was no longer where it was supposed to be: on the court, on the next point to be played.
Gaby finally scooped up her racket and stepped back to the line. Then, after taking her sweet time readying herself, she lofted the ball… and delivered a blistering ace to regain the advantage. Tess smirked beside him as Gaby shot the umpire a sharp smile, then glanced up at their box before moving to take her next serve. Two minutes later, the game was called in her favor. She was one away from taking the set.
Unfortunately, Inge served well and held her game relatively easily, sending the players into a tiebreaker. It was a tense rally, with both players doing well. Gaby was obviously still upset, if the grunts she was making on every ball strike were any indication. But in no other way did her little meltdown adversely affect her game. In fact, she was playing more fiercely, more aggressively… and in the end, triumphed to take the first set.
With a mighty fist pump and a huge shout, Gaby turned to look up at them, a fierce look of determination on her young face.
Max gave her a thumbs-up, then applauded as she stalked over to her chair for a brief changeover before beginning the second set.
"I told you," Tess crowed as she leaned forward and applauded, too. She settled back in her seat and turned to him, smug smile curving her lips. "She is so on, baby. Game is on."
It shouldn't have been so infectious, her confidence, her enthusiasm, considering she was all but heckling him. Maybe it was her unshaka
ble belief in Gaby that drew him in when he wanted to maintain his distance the most. "She's given herself some room," he allowed. "Now all she needs to do is keep her composure. Inge isn't going to fold and quietly go away."
Tess snorted. "Which is exactly why Gaby needs to keep the fires burning. It works for her, like it worked for me."
"So you're saying that giving in to your temper out there, slamming rackets around, haranguing the lines people, the chair umpire, never cost you your concentration? Never lost you the match?"
"A game, maybe. A match? Never." She didn't even pretend she had to think about it. Of course, to be fair, she'd likely been asked that same question numerous times. Understandable, given her fiery nature on the court. The phrase "a female McEnroe" had been used more than once.
Which brought him to his next point. "McEnroe self-destructed all the time when his temper got the better of him. What's to say it won't for Gaby?"
"You call it 'temper,' I call it 'passion for the game.' John was a phenomenal player, and sure, he could be petulant and at times definitely got too focused on what he perceived as personal slights and lost his game. But that was because it mattered so much. The game mattered, points mattered. Every single one. I'd wager more often than not, it was those outbursts that allowed him to keep going in such a dazzling manner If he'd kept it all bottled up inside, he'd have lost more often." She patted him on the knee. "I know it's hard, having a sister who is so opposite your calm, cool, supremely collected self. But as much as you want her to be like you, she's not. If you want to help her, Max, focus on helping her improve her game. But stop trying to stifle her passion. She knows what she needs out there."
So, she thought he was cool, calm, collected. Ha. If she only knew. Calm? His stomach was currently in a knot of nerves as he watched Gaby play the biggest match of her life thus far. Cool? Quite the opposite. His entire body had gone on full alert even at Tess's casual touch of his knee. And collected? His head… hell, he didn't know where that was at.
Not So Snow White Page 27