Yes, Gabriella had played a great final. She had tried to stay on this court with Sasha as long as possible, but the Czech had been too determined. When she had stepped onto Arthur Ashe she had nothing to lose, she told herself. No reason to cry now. Love meant nothing. She needed to get up, check if she was hurt, even though Gabriella knew she wasn’t. Probably just a bruise. And now she had enough time to nurse it. The pain that invaded her body was just the realization of having failed. Lying on the ground it had simply sunk in more quickly than usual.
No, Gabriella sighed and opened her eyes, she really needed to get up and shake hands with Sasha, who would already be waiting at the net. The Czech would want to get ready for the trophy ceremony. Gabriella jumped to her feet, demonstrating that she wasn’t hurt. Yes, there was Sasha leaning on the net, waiting for the handshake, so Gabriella jogged to the net reaching out her hand.
But to her surprise Sasha pulled both her hands back.
“Are you alright?” Sasha whispered.
The words hit Gabriella like a shock. Sasha was talking to her. She was looking at her.
“Yes,” Gabriella said quickly. She was still reaching out her hand but Sasha didn’t take it. She shook her head.
“We are not done yet.”
Baffled, Gabriella looked at Lynn Pebblestone. Covering the microphone with one hand, the umpire leaned forward. “We are at Deuce,” she told Gabriella.
“But – ,” Gabriella started and looked back at Sasha, who was still standing uncomfortably at the net. A ball girl rushed by to pick up a ball lying on the ground by the net and the Czech quickly turned around to the back of the court. Gabriella paused. A ball in the net. On Sasha’s side. Sasha had mishit that sitting duck?
A warm feeling grew inside Gabriella’s chest. She watched Sasha’s back and her brunette ponytail bounce a little as she walked back to the baseline. How much would she have given to jump over that stupid net and give the woman she loved a big hug?
Gabriella went back to her bench and quickly rubbed the sweat off her body. Appearing again from under the towel, the spectators greeted her with a loud cheer, happy that this match wasn’t over yet.
Sasha’s first serve crashed into the net. The second went out wide. With a double fault the Czech had given Gabriella the advantage to break right back. Seconds later Sasha netted an easy forehand.
It was 5-5, the crowd was cheering, and it was Gabriella’s turn to serve. She looked across the net and could hardly believe it. This match wasn’t over.
***
“They are shitting us,” Monica declared. “They really are.”
Speechless, Antonia Sapore and Martina Rodriguez nodded. The match had their full attention. They had joined Monica Jordan in the players’ lounge while waiting for their own final in the doubles competition.
“The insanity of this makes me crave ice cream,” Martina mumbled. “Or popcorn.”
“They have gelato in the players’ restaurant,” Antonia informed her.
“Which is suspicious,” Martina said absentmindedly. With every shot in the ongoing rally on the screen she dug her fingers deeper into the couch.
“Why?” Monica asked without turning her head away from the screen.
“When was the last time you had ice cream during a tournament?” Martina asked back. She didn’t wait for an answer. “See? The stuff in the players’ lounge fridge is probably from 1972 when tennis players still ate burgers with French fries and mayo and ice cream and chocolate.”
Monica and Antonia nodded. Then they all screamed in unison.
“Oh, what a shot!”
Gabriella had hit a forehand on-the-run which landed on the baseline and won her the game.
“Incredibile! Can I borrow that?” Antonia blurted out. “What are they doing out there?”
“Tennis porn,” Martina grinned.
“Good stamina, too,” Antonia remarked. The camera man had pointed the camera at the court clock. Sasha and Gabriella had been playing for three and a half hours now. It was 3-4 in the third set and both players went to their benches to take a quick rest.
“This could become the rivalry of the next decade,” Martina said. “They really give each other a run for their money.”
“For the spectators’ money, too,” Monica chuckled. “I’m really proud of Gabriella.”
“She definitely changed over the last year,” Antonia pondered. “For a while I had the feeling she was getting laid. Sex is definitely a game changer. Just look at me!”
Antonia had climbed the rankings steadily in the past months and was now knocking on the door of the Top 10.
“Damn right.” Martina slipped down into the couch cushions, and began to stroke Antonia’s bare thigh.
“She’s hot. We should ask for a threesome,” the Argentine joked pointing at Gabriella on the screen.
“Stop talking like that,” Monica giggled and gave Martina a slap on the hand. “She’s my protégée and she’s a nice girl.”
“Alright, mommy.” Martina and Antonia grinned. They concentrated back on the match as the players went to the baselines but all of a sudden the loud bang of a racquet bag thrown on the floor startled them. Ted Curry had joined them.
“Congratulations, Ted,” Monica said to the British player. He had won his semifinal earlier that day and probably just finished his press conference. Ted opened his mouth to start a conversation but was hushed immediately by the Italian.
“Sit down and be quiet,” Antonia hissed. “We are watching the tennis.”
“I just talked to a stats guy from Supersport,” Ted whispered while he was squeezing in between Monica and Antonia. “So far they’ve counted over hundred and ten winners combined and only about twenty unforced errors. A hundred and ten! It’s crazy. There were only four games in the whole match that did not go to deuce.”
The next game went to deuce for three times until Sasha held. 4-4.
“I think that’s the fifth time Hugh Andrews has announced the shot of the match,” Antonia giggled.
“I can’t bear this any longer,” Martina suddenly blurted out. She jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving the others flabbergasted. Just when Ted, Monica and Antonia had comfortably spread out on the couch, Martina was back. She carried a tray with four big ice cream buckets. The others looked at her in disbelief.
“Don’t worry. I checked the expiry date.” She sat down and opened a chocolate cookie bucket. “Sasha and Gabriella have until May 2013 to finish the match.”
***
The elevator pinged and Mint tapped Polly on the shoulders. The Canadian was typing a text message and looking at the display of her phone.
“Bernadette?” Mint asked, gently pushing Polly into the cabin.
Polly nodded. “She asked whether I wanted to work out today.”
Mint frowned. She had planned a surprise dinner in a small restaurant for Polly and herself. “What did you say?”
“Told her I was busy,” Polly smiled at Mint. “In a nice way though. She will leave early tomorrow and we won’t see each other until Tokyo.”
Mint exhaled in relief. She had enough of Bernadette and her way of commanding Polly around. As promised, Polly had given her best in the doubles competition and the Canadians had made it all the way to the semifinal where they lost against Martina Rodriguez and Antonia Sapore. It wasn’t Polly’s fault though as she had played well. It was Bernadette who seemed drained.
Mint pressed the button for the ground floor and observed Polly who was using the mirror to adjust her short hair. Mint would have loved to help her but didn’t dare to ask. She really wondered where this was going. Mint had lost early in the tournament but when she offered to stay longer with Polly, the Canadian was delighted.
Ever since Mint had made up her mind and visited Polly in the hospital the two hung out together most of the time.
They had found that they not only shared hospital experience but also the same taste in music and movies. In Cincinnati they had gon
e to a cinema. But nothing had happened. Either Polly wasn’t interested or she was being careful. Maybe because of Mint’s brash reaction in Wimbledon when Polly had approached her.
And what the hell was wrong with herself, Mint sometimes wondered. She had never had trouble hitting on girls when she was interested. But with Polly she felt strangely inhibited.
On the seventh floor the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Two guys with tennis bags entered the cabin. One was a middle-aged tanned guy and the other was – Ted Curry. Mint swallowed hard. Ted Curry. Mint remembered the pictures she was still keeping on her computer. Since Polly had become her new best friend she had completely forgotten about them. But here was Ted, the Top 10 player with a bizarre affection for lesbian couples. He greeted Polly, then turned to Mint and nodded. No, he didn’t remember her, she realized with relief. A year ago they had met in a different hotel, it had been dark and he had been in a rush.
Weirdo, Mint thought, still observing the British player from the corner of her eye. As if he had heard her he turned around a bit and looked at her again. Mint smiled quickly before Ted turned to his friend again.
“Sorry for running late,” he told his friend. “I was preoccupied by a few girls.”
“You shameless ladykiller,” the older man said with a grin.
“Not like this,” Ted corrected him quickly with a look to Polly and Mint. He turned around, addressing the two girls. “I watched the women’s final with some other players,” he explained.
“Was it good?” Polly asked.
“Good?” Ted almost yelled. “You mean you didn’t watch it?”
They shook their heads. They had spent the whole afternoon reading Tennis Nurse novels by the hotel pool. Since Morgana had opened her treasure vault again they had restocked on books.
“Well, I think the match will go down in history,” Ted exclaimed.
“As what?” Mint asked. Ted would probably tell them about the great rivalry that was to unfold. As if they hadn’t heard enough of it since Wimbledon.
“As a classic,” Ted said instead. “It was the best tennis match I’ve seen in a while – men or women. Just unbelievable, great tennis.”
“And who won?” Polly wanted to know.
“Sasha,” Ted replied. “But really, it didn’t matter in the end. The whole match was so tight throughout and they played a third set tiebreak, which was also very close. It could have gone either way and I believe they should have both gotten a trophy. There was no runner-up in that match.”
Mint threw Polly a look, who replied with a little grin. Their male colleagues usually didn’t waste much thought on the women’s game, nor did they feel the need to rave about it. While Polly probably found Ted’s enthusiasm cute, Mint’s suspicion only grew. She remembered the picture with Sasha and the Galloway twin. It looked like Ted had an unhealthy obsession with those two. Instead of concentrating on the pictures and what to do with them, she should have done something about Ted Curry.
When they entered the lobby, Mint watched Ted and his friend leave. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to put an end to his strange dreams.
***
The dark waves of hair fell loosely over Gabriella’s shoulders and the strong hands nervously stroked her jeans as the twin looked at Sasha, who was grasping the cold metal base of the U.S. Open trophy and immediately felt that her hands began to sweat. Gabriella had already dressed for the press conference, having left the trophy ceremony a bit earlier as the runner-up. Now she was standing next to a green plant, her mouth moving slightly, but no words came out. She was trying to find words, Sasha realized. She probably wanted to congratulate her. Or say sorry.
Gabriella opened her mouth. And Sasha’s heart skipped a beat. Come on, she wanted to encourage the Galloway. Then Gabriella closed her mouth again. Should Sasha say something? But what could she say? Just when Sasha resorted to finding words herself, Gabriella spoke.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said. It was almost a whisper.
Sasha held her breath. This was neither an apology, nor a congratulation. Just Gabriella’s bare feelings – for Sasha. A smile was beginning to light up Sasha’s face. But then she held herself back. All of a sudden, the fear was clutching her heart again. Was she really so stupid as to forget about all the pain this person had caused her? After just one match of orgasmic tennis playing? She really was stupid.
“You gave me a bit of a hard time,” she said coolly. “But I didn’t expect anything less. I knew you wouldn’t let go that easily.”
She saw how Gabriella swallowed.
“I like spending time with you.” Again a whisper.
Sasha stood up quickly. Her heart was racing. Nice try, Gabriella. Nice try. She began packing her belongings from the locker into her bag. When the Galloway touched her lightly on the shoulder she flinched.
“Please, let me explain,” Gabriella gulped. Sasha spun around.
“Why should I listen to you?” she snarled, wiping away Gabriella’s hand. “To give you even more opportunity to lie to me?”
She began packing faster. Where were her socks? She couldn’t leave without them. Where was her good shirt she had packed for the press conference?
“You’re best friends with Lulu again,” she hissed over her shoulder at Gabriella who had sat down on the bench. “You two skipped the foe masquerade.”
“But that wasn’t a masquerade,” Gabriella stammered. “We just made up again. I told her about us.”
“Us?” Sasha shouted with a bitter laugh. “There’s no ‘us’.”
“But there was.”
Sasha stopped looking for her socks and turned around to Gabriella.
“No, Gabriella,” she slowly said. “There was me and then there was a fraud who pretended to be someone else. That’s not ‘us’. That’s bullshit.”
Gabriella didn’t answer. Instead Sasha saw that tears filled her eyes. It was the first time, she realized, that she had seen Gabriella cry. The Galloway never cried on court – neither when she was injured nor when she lost a match.
“Why then?” Sasha asked, wondering why she let Gabriella speak. “Why did you do it?”
Gabriella raised her head. Then she opened her mouth and laggardly the words tumbled out.
“I never thought I had a chance with you. I knew you were after Lulu, so I thought –,” she shrugged helplessly and let her shoulders hang. “You liked Lulu.”
Sasha gasped. That was Gabriella’s explanation for deceiving her? A sisterly competition? With her as the trophy?
“That’s outrageous. You know nothing about me,” Sasha retorted angrily. “I liked the girl who smiled at me when I crouched in a locker at the French Open. I liked the girl who left the taste of peanut butter cupcakes in my mouth.”
She saw that Gabriella had closed her eyes, ready for an even longer tirade.
“I liked the girl who got lost when she gave me a tour through Paris. I liked – ,” Sasha’s voice almost tripped and she gasped for air. Suddenly feeling terribly exhausted she sat down on the bench opposite Gabriella. “I liked the girl who called me Miss Coconut.”
A long silence followed while Sasha was waiting for Gabriella’s reply. Then the twin spoke again, barely looking up.
“Do you still like her?” Gabriella’s voice was almost inaudible. “A little bit maybe?”
All the verve that had carried Gabriella through the U.S. Open final, that had made her fly through the air and save match point was gone. One gesture from Sasha, and the Galloway would be defeated for good. Sasha waited a little longer, then slowly shook her head. No, she didn’t like Gabriella a little bit maybe. No. She had never been so clear in her mind in her whole life. Her feelings were definite.
Just as slowly Gabriella nodded and lowered her head. But then Sasha spoke again.
“I don’t like the girl, Gabriella,” she said, leaning forward and taking Gabriella’s hand. The sudden touch had made the twin flinch. “I don’t like her. I love her.”
> Gabriella raised her head and with a leap Sasha was on the other bench, sitting down next to the Galloway.
“So, we’re not done yet?” Gabriella blurted out.
Sasha shook her head.
“Look,” she began, squeezing Gabriella’s hand. “I got broken, then you got broken. Now I held my serve and this is the first changeover in the first set of a very long match.”
Gabriella broke into a smile over the tennis analogy. “And who will win?”
Sasha didn’t need to answer. They both knew it. Instead she put her hand in Gabriella’s neck and pulled her in for a long kiss.
They would both win.
DIAMONDS
ON THE INSIDE
Beijing, China
From her hotel room window Mint had a nice view over the park they had to cross every morning to get to the Olympic Tennis Centre where the China Open tournament was being held. Her room was only one floor above the rooftop garden and the first thing she saw when she drew the curtains was the broad shoulders and athletic back of Polly Duke passing under the window.
Jogging next to Polly was Bernadette LeBlanc.
“Of course,” Mint muttered. The older player must have dragged Polly out of bed early again. Yesterday, Polly had cancelled a movie night with Mint as she felt obliged to work out with Bernadette in the gym. They needed a good run in the doubles competition to grab a spot at the Year End Championships in Istanbul.
“Quarterfinals at least,” Polly had informed Mint.
Bernadette and Polly were doing laps around a narrow path that ran along the hotel wall then led into a bamboo forest. Mint opened her window and peeped outside.
If only Bernadette wasn’t there.
Mint loved watching Polly whenever possible. Her movement on the tennis court was graceful and dynamic at the same time. What better way to start the day than by watching Polly jog through a bamboo forest? She just had to pretend that Bernadette was somewhere else.
Love Game - Season 2012 Page 33