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 h
ad 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.”
“Did you leave something lying around?” Elise was becoming curious.
“Maybe.” Natsumi turned away, seemingly unwilling to say more and Elise didn’t dare inquire. But then Natsumi almost jumped around again, taking Elise’s hands.
“Can you do me a favor? Now?” The intensity startled Elise. She looked at the TV screen. Amanda and Angus were up two breaks of serve in the second set.
“Can’t I wait for Amanda?”
“Yes, yes, alright!” Natsumi moaned. “But then please rush to the hotel and get something from my room. Will you do that?”
Elise hesitated. What could that be? You never knew with Natsumi. Last year she had dragged Amanda to a nude sushi dinner. Once again, the Japanese player squeezed Elise’s hands. Her hands were ice-cold.
Elise finally nodded.
***
“What a wonderful day for a Grand Slam semifinal,” Hugh exclaimed.
He had adjusted his headset and switched on the microphone.
“Let’s get started.”
Samantha Watts sat down next to her colleague and grabbed her gear. She looked out onto the Australian Open’s centre court. It really was a beautiful day. Not a single cloud was in the sky.
“It will be so hot later,” she mumbled.
“Yes,” Hugh nodded and pointed behind himself. “I stocked up on water for us.”
Sam grinned. Even though Hugh could be a real blabbermouth, he was still a thoughtful colleague. Dangerously balancing against the wall was a huge pile of water bottles. Samantha leaned over and gave him a playful peck on the cheek.
“One minute,” they heard through their headphones.
Broadcasting would begin half an hour before the match started, and Sam and Hugh were expected to bridge the time with useful, preliminary information. They got ready and as soon as the red light indicated that they were on air they began introducing the TV spectators to this year’s semifinalists.
“We have two very experienced players who could reach the final today,” Hugh started.
“Yes, Tamara Parova and Sasha Mrachova,” Sam added. “Parova looked great in all her previous matches. She is a very consistent player, comfortable on all surfaces, and her high level at this Australian Open shows her confidence in her game. It will be very hard for Natsumi Takashima to beat her today.”
“Sasha Mrachova, on the other hand, looked down and out in a couple of matches earlier,” Hugh considered. “The fact that she reached the semifinal demonstrates that she can fight herself out of holes if she needs to. And her opponents love to falter against her. She has this aura of steel around her that helps her get through horrible matches. Honestly, Mrachova’s third round match was rather dreadful. I poured myself a drink in the second set.”
Sam chuckled. Hugh was at his finest when he forgot commentating etiquette. But his analysis was definitely true. In two matches Sasha had had match points against her, but each time her opponents had crumbled and squandered their chances with unforgivable mistakes. In the end they gifted their matches to a mediocre Mrachova. Well, sometimes you just had to be lucky.
“And then we have two first-time Grand Slam semifinalists,” Sam chimed in. “Natsumi Takashima and Antonia Sapore. I must say I was most surprised to see Takashima having such a great run. Sapore already showed great signs last year, so her first appearance in a major semifinal is not a huge surprise. She really has the potential to become a strong force and Top 5 player, but Takashima has turned on the accelerator since Sydney.”
“She didn’t have a good start in Auckland. Went out in the first round,” Hugh explained. “When asked what she did after that shock loss, she only smiles. Clearly the results speak for themselves. She reached the final in Sydney, losing to Marieke Bender, but got her revenge only two days ago, here in the quarterfinal, taking out Bender 6-2 6-4.”
“She’s not an inexperienced player,” Sam remarked. “She’s been around for quite a while, and she has played against Parova before and won.”
There was movement down on the court and the spectators began to clap. Lynn Pebblestone had entered the court and begun measuring the net height and taking out the balls out of the cans. The arena was beginning to fill nicely and a first drop of sweat gathered on Sam’s forehead. She reached behind and grabbed a water bottle. It wouldn’t be her last.
***
“This is so typical,” Amanda ranted. “Much ado about nothing, I tell you!”
She and Elise rushed down the stairs to the garage where a car was waiting to bring them back to the hotel.
“She seemed really anxious,” Elise remarked.
“Yes,” Amanda said over her shoulder. “Because she will be playing a Grand Slam semifinal in thirty minutes.”
They climbed into the waiting car.
“I really wanted to see the match in the Arena,” Amanda sighed.
“TV for us then?”
Amanda nodded. “Let’s order something from Killer Kurry.”
Thinking about food soothed the Australian, and Elise patted her thigh. It was only a ten minute ride along the Yarra River, so Amanda immediately called the number of the Indian home delivery service she had on speed-dial to ensure the food would arrive on time.
The hotel lobby was buzzing with tennis people, clearly visible from afar by their sports clothes, tan lines and huge racquet bags. Some of them were coming from Melbourne Park, others were leaving town, as the huge mountains of bags and suitcases on hotel trolleys indicated. There was only one person who stuck out. Not by height by any means, but by a swift, determined forward movement. A petite woman was making a bee-line through the lobby to the reception desk.
“Oh dear, that’s Natsumi’s mum,” Amanda exclaimed. “She’s already here.”
“Let’s hurry,” Elise said, checking the number on Natsumi’s key card. “Tenth floor.”
When the elevator doors closed they saw Mrs. Takashima grabbing a key card of her own and turning towards the elevator as well.
“One minute lead perhaps,” Amanda diagnosed.
The elevator reached the tenth floor and they both began to run but the heavy racquet bags slowed them down.
“Let’s leave them here,” Elise panted.
She threw her racquet bag into a corner and kept on running. Amanda followed suit. Now they were significantly faster. After turning two corners, Elise stopped.
“Here it is!” She swiped the key card and opened the door.
Natsumi’s room lay dark and still, and immediately Amanda and Elise switched to whisper mode as Amanda went inside the room and turned on the nightstand lamp. “It’s under the bed, she said?”
Elise nodded. She kneeled down and reached under the bed with her hand.
“There’s something,” she whispered.
She pulled out a long wooden box that was sealed with duct tape. A look beneath the bed confirmed that there was nothing else, so that had to be the item Mrs. Takashima wasn’t supposed to find.
“Let’s go,” Amanda pressed.
They turned out the light, left the room and ran down the hallway. Just when they reached their racquet bags, Natsumi’s mother stepped out of the elevator.
“Amanda?”
“Konnichiwa, Mrs. Takashima,” Amanda grinned awkwardly. Elise stood behind her, waving a little with one hand. With her other hand she held the wooden box behind her back. “We were jogging a little bit. Didn’t have enough exercise today.”
“Of course. You haven’t changed one bit, Amanda,” Mrs. Takashima smiled squeezing Amanda’s arm and nodding to Elise. “I will just put my suitcase in Natsumi’s room and then take a cab to the tournament. The match will be starting any minute. Will you join me?”
Amanda shook her head. “Sorry, we just ordered dinner. We will cheer from the hotel room.”
They said goodbye, grabbed their bags and took the elevator to the next floor.
“Man, we could have watched the match in Natsumi’s box,” Amanda said grumpily, but lightened up as soon as she saw the Killer Kurry delivery man waiting in front of their hotel room.
Inside, they switched the TV on, jumped on the bed and Elise began unwrapping the food cartons when she noticed that Amanda was fumbling with the duct tape on the wooden box.
Love Game - Season 2012 Page 8