by M. B. Gerard
“Whatever the reason is, I just hope it doesn’t involve sushi,” Monica grinned thinking back four months when the girls had a night out in Tokyo.
“Oh god. I don’t want to be reminded!” Amanda waved aside the thought. That night she had had too much sake. Far too much.
“So tell me about that new girl of yours,” Monica purred.
“Nothing to tell really,” Amanda said slowly. “Just someone I met.” She gave a bright red flower to her left a close inspection and Monica Jordan had to laugh. Even though Amanda was not particularly shy she wouldn’t talk about her feelings a lot. However, in the last two weeks she had been more outgoing and visibly cheerful.
“Come on, you’ve been sporting a big grin since Perth. You could at least give me a name!”
Now it was Amanda’s time to smile. She couldn’t help it. She thought about the new girl in her life.
“Felicia,” she answered. “She’s a singer.”
Monica nodded gravely. So, the stories she heard were true. Felicia Del Castro was invading the tennis world. ‘Singer’ was perhaps an exaggeration. The young woman had made a name as an announcer in several cheap TV shows and was now trying to gain a reputation as a vocalist. Her new songs were being played constantly on the radio and caused one’s ears to bleed. She glanced at Amanda. Well, she’d known it and she’d better accept it, too, Monica thought. She just couldn’t govern everything in the summer camp. She gave her young friend a big smile.
“A singer? Now, that sounds glamorous.”
“She is a bit. Glamorous, I mean,” Amanda mumbled.
Monica leaned over and gave a slightly surprised Amanda a big hug.
“That’s great, kiddo. I’m very happy for you.”
Amanda was wriggling awkwardly in her grip. “Not planning to get married yet.”
“What? But Agnes and I want to be your bridesmaids!” Monica grinned.
“Yeah, let’s see how it goes,” Amanda replied with a sheepish smile. Amanda wasn’t the type to shout it from the rooftops but her eyes revealed she was head over heels in love with Felicia Del Castro. Monica sighed inaudibly then let go of Amanda.
A horrible squeak overpowered her thoughts. Takashima had arrived with squealing tires.
“How the hell do you do that with high heels, woman?” Monica shook her head in disbelief. Takashima’s famous trademark move on the court was her sliding split. She would even do it on hard courts.
“Sorry for being late. But I discovered the most amazing roof-deck sushi restaurant and they offered me a free trial if I bring you guys along. The owner is a big tennis fan,” Natsumi explained. Unperturbed by Amanda’s shocked face she threw her arms in the air in excitement. “Hey ho, let’s go, girls!”
Eventually Monica helped Natsumi to drag Amanda from the jungle sofa and into the elevator.
***
Elise felt a big lump creeping up her throat. For a moment all she could hear were the leaves rustling by the fan above her as the huge jungle plants wrapped around her like Sleeping Beauty’s impenetrable hedge. Praying that no one came to sit in the lounge she crouched into the big wing chair that had hidden her from the three girls. She needed just two minutes of silence to steady herself. Just two minutes to fight back the tears.
So, Amanda had a girlfriend. A glamorous singer. Of course, she had, Elise thought. Amanda was a Top 10 player, she was lovely and friendly and never made a big fuss about her standing. She was a ‘cool cat’, an expression Elise had learned by reading the Tennis Nurse novel Agnes Lion had given her. She had learned a lot of other things as well. Soon she needed to give it back. Otherwise Agnes would correctly assume that Elise had read it, even though she had denied it when talking on the phone with her friend. But there were pages she could read over and over again. That’s what she had been doing in the lounge when Monica and Amanda had sat down on the couch on the other side of the jungle plants. But once she had heard Amanda’s voice behind her she had forgotten about Tennis Nurse and The Girl Who Preferred The Grass.
Now a strong feeling of self-pity and anger rose in Elise. Self-pity because she had missed the opportunity to get to know Amanda better last year. And anger because she hated self-pity. That wasn’t like her. She was fighting her way back to playing WTA tournaments without looking back on the months and months she had missed. She was a self-assured, determined person who looked ahead.
But this was different. She could recall exactly the first meeting between her and Amanda before a match three years ago. It had been one of the smaller events on the tour when Elise had just begun to cross over from playing ITF challenger tournaments to the bigger WTA tournaments and she was easily beaten by Amanda. In all the following matches Amanda was able to beat her with ease, and in hindsight Elise had to admit that it was not only the Australian’s talent and game but her own nerviness when Amanda was around that made her lose her matches. Then there was that evening they spent on the porch of the Charleston hotel away from the noisiness of last year’s players’ party. They had talked for hours sheltered by the stars of the Southern night sky and for the first time Elise had enjoyed the inner flurry the Australian caused. She had begun to really like the redhead.
She even had a dream about Amanda after the party. But back then she hadn’t grasped the nature of her affection. In hindsight she must have been completely blind to her own feelings. It could have happened back then. Why else would Amanda have spent a whole evening with her? But she had missed out on the chance and a week later she was on a plane back to Germany with a torn ACL. The unfairness of life brought tears to her eyes.
There it was again, she scolded herself. Self-pity. She wiped away the tears. Someone else would come along, she thought. Maybe. And if anybody ever came along, would Elise dare to make the first step? She couldn’t expect someone else to do it as apparently everyone who knew her assumed she was straight. Like that new freelance journalist she had to endure for an interview this morning. No wonder, none of the gay girls ever hit on her, Elise brooded. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Some of them did, but in a mocking, titillating way.
Last fall Elise had gathered all her courage and started a feeble attempt to get closer to the group of young gay girls around Mint Rickenbacher and Chili García López. But none of them had seemed to even question why Elise wanted to hang out with them. They only found it hilarious. Discouraged by their lack of empathy Elise had never talked about herself. Also, her German friends on the tour had been happy that she was back on the tour and after the embarrassing intermezzo with Mint and Chili she was glad she could catch up with the German girls again. However, – whether with the gay girls or her old friends – she felt out of place.
She scrunched the Tennis Nurse novel in frustration but then reminded herself that it wasn’t hers. Agnes. She had given Elise the novel. A very trashy novel with a lot of gay characters. The young German’s heart made a jump. Agnes must know about Elise! The novel was a hint. Why hadn’t she thought about this earlier? Elise hadn’t planned to go to the players’ party, but now she would. After all, she needed to give back Agnes’s novel.
***
The two lovers had gone to a very expensive restaurant which at lunch hour was filled by business men mostly. It was on the other side of the Yarra River and they hoped that no other tennis people would make the extra way to have a meal at the same place. It seemed like they never had enough privacy.
Looking through the menu Tom frowned seeing the over-priced dishes that were probably small enough to gulp in one bite. He craved a big burger with fries. He looked up to his love interest sitting in front of him and was mildly touched by the concentration Ted Curry’s face showed while he was studying the menu and choosing his lunch dish. It was the same concentration he used to hit the ball.
“What about Mrs. Curry?” Tom asked, even though he was glad they were alone.
“She found a rerun of Neighbours on TV,” Ted replied without looking up from the menu. “She couldn’t be happi
er.”
Ted’s mother was also his manager and her obsession with what was going on at Ramsay Street was well-known in the tennis circuit and made for much laughter in the locker rooms and players’ lounges of the tour. Even though Tom had not met her yet, she seemed fine with Ted’s love life and a fun person to be with. But now Tom had to laugh at Ted.
“I’m not talking about your mother but your girlfriend,” he laughed.
“Oh, she’s the best girlfriend I could wish for,” Ted winked at Tom. “Did you see that interview we did together. She’s the best beard in the business.”
“Well, it seems she has many, many talents,” Tom said. Honestly, he thought, she was a tedious attention seeker and her talent to be absent was his favorite. Tom’s foot made contact with Ted’s ankle. Ted smiled back at the hidden gesture which made Tom blush.
“So where is she tonight?”
“Oh, busy, very busy. Like a queen bee stirring up the hive.”
“Your majesty?” Tom laughed
“Indeed. You know me. So very British.” Ted raised his water glass and nodded while locking eyes with his hot date. “God save the Queen.”
***
Even on the loo she was pestered by terrible music. From the speakers came something that sounded like elevator music. Why can’t a human being enjoy some silence at times, Sasha wondered. She slammed the door of her toilet booth and sat down on the lid. She had just engaged in a nice conversation with Angela Porovski, the very entertaining German player, when German team mate Carina Gnocchi showed up and snatched Angela away from Sasha to cheer Luella Galloway’s karaoke performance of “I Heard It Through The Grapevine”.
Carina, the Knocker. Sasha swore she would knock the pesky German out of the No. 1 spot. She could be the queen of tennis again. She knew she just had to work harder than ever. Good thing she had abjured long-legged distraction for now. Looking, but not touching was the device that would get her back to the top. It had worked in the past and it would work again. There was nothing to take her mind off the tennis.
The restroom’s door was pushed open. The music from the speakers mingled with the music outside. Obviously Luella Galloway had been dragged off the stage as someone else was performing a horrible impersonation of Enrique Martinez’s new song. Sasha could make out two pairs of high-heels clicking over the bathroom floor. Without making a sound Sasha lifted her own feet off the ground so they wouldn’t show under the toilet door.
“Your sister is very funny,” a young voice said. Sasha knew the melodic sound of it but couldn’t place it.
“Yes,” another girl answered. “If she’s in a good mood, she can be very entertaining.”
That was Gabriella Galloway, Sasha thought. They were talking about Lulu.
“So, you know Agnes,” Gabriella said to the other girl. “Are you trading books with her?”
“What?” The other girl sounded offended.
“I saw that you gave Agnes a Tennis Nurse novel. Which episode was it?”
Now, wasn’t that interesting, Sasha thought. Gabriella Galloway knew about the Tennis Nurse series?
“I didn’t read it,” the other girl snapped. “Agnes gave it to me over Christmas, but I had other things to do. I didn’t even open it!”
There was a silence on the other side of the door. Sasha could only hear the water running. Then a pair of heels turned and walked to the door. Audibly, Gabriella breathed in over the clicking sound.
“Elise, I’m sorry,” Sasha heard the American say but the door had already closed.
Elise? Sasha sat up straight in surprise. The only person Sasha knew with this name was Elise Renard. Sasha shook her head in amazement. Of course, she could remember the face now. She silently began to chuckle but burst into laughter as soon as Gabriella had left the restroom. The best thing about the whole scene was that Elise Renard denied reading Tennis Nurse.
Sasha hadn’t laughed so much for quite a while.
***
“He is finer than frog’s hair!” Robyn blurted out. She looked up to the sky as if she had seen a vision. “And he’s terribly fit. His hair has turned even redder in the Australian sun. It’s so hot.” She was still slobbering over that reporter guy she had met in Perth and who was now standing at the entrance of the players’ party taking pictures of the arriving players.
“I know his name,” Gemma chirped.
“What? How do you know that?”
“He called me.”
Discombobulated Robyn looked at her friend.
Gemma grinned. “Well, not exactly. He called my room from the reception desk to tell me to come down to the lobby. You remember the interview I had to do this morning, don’t you? I didn’t know it would be the guy you’ve been talking about for the last two weeks.”
With Gemma leading the way they made their way to the buffet. Robyn followed her friend impatiently.
“Will you tell me the name now?”
“Tom,” Gemma said with a grin. Then she paused dramatically. “Tom Richardson.”
A loud snicker made them turn around. It was Ted Curry waggishly grinning at his two British colleagues.
“Have you found a new victim?” He laughed. “I should give the poor fellow a warning.”
“Don’t you dare interfere, Ted Curry!” Gemma gave him a punch in the ribs.
“What are your plans?” Ted searched the buffet. “Will you lure him to a dark place and strap him down with a left-over racquet string?”
“We might,” Robyn giggled.
“Well, well, young ladies, I’d love to witness some naughty action. Give me a call if you catch the Crimson Snapper.”
He picked up a fairy cake and popped it into his mouth. Munching it in a devastatingly sexy manner he saluted the girls and went over to the bar where he joined some fellow players.
“He hasn’t changed one bit.” Gemma shook her head. “Have you met his new girlfriend yet? She must be crazy to give Ted a go.”
“I told you, I didn’t speak to her. Just saw them together, when they were giving an interview.” Robyn shrugged. She was so over Ted Curry. She gestured Gemma to go over to the dancing floor. An old-fashioned rock and roll tune was playing in the background.
“I heard she works in television,” Gemma said. Rumors were spreading fast within the tennis world but it was only the beginning of the season and everyone had to do some catching-up on the still fresh stories.
“How fitting,” Robyn pondered. “Ted loves these media people.”
***
They’d got lost, Amanda was sure of it. She had seen that painting on the hotel corridor only five minutes ago. Obviously Natsumi Takashima and Mint Rickenbacher were running in circles, unable to find their rooms which wasn’t surprising at all given the amount of punch they had swallowed.
“We’ve been here before,” she shouted after the two girls in front of her.
“Hear, hear, who’s talking to us again?” Mint shouted back. “Are you done calling Felicia?”
Mint had checked into the players’ hotel only today after she had won her qualifying match. Lord knows where she had stayed before, but with Cecilia García López out of the tournament she obviously had decided to move to the fancier accommodation, Amanda concluded. She had hooked up with Natsumi and it looked like they would share a room tonight – if they found it.
“She’s not answering the phone,” Amanda said with a slur. She wasn’t exactly sober herself. Catching up to the two girls who rested against the wall she looked at the display on her cell phone. Why wasn’t Felicia answering? She must have tried a thousand times now. “There must be something wrong with her phone. She explicitly told me to call her when I get back to the hotel.”
“You have been trying non-stop for thirty minutes now,” Natsumi declared with an unsteady voice. “It’s her turn now to call you. She will see that you called her.” The Japanese pushed herself from the wall, grabbed Mint’s arm and hobbled down the hallway.
Maybe she shou
ld go to her room and wait for her call, Amanda wondered. She looked around to locate where her room might be when a loud bump followed by a scream made her jump. It had come from around the corner. The girls! She began to run. Turning around the corridor corner she saw Mint lying on the floor with a girl in a short turquoise dress while Natsumi was holding on to the wall laughing at the scene. Amanda recognized the young girl as Elise Renard. Apparently Mint had knocked over the German when she had exited the elevator.
“Oh, Elise. Quelle surpise!” Rolling on the floor Mint was moving very closely to Elise’s neck, pretending to sniff her perfume. “I like that. What is that?”
Elise shook her head in embarrassment. She looked confounded by Mint’s bluntness and sat up quickly, ready to flee the drunk girls but stopped dead when she saw Amanda approaching.
“Why don’t you join us, Lizzy?” the American suggested grabbing Elise in a headlock. “Looks like Amanda’s been let down by her famous girlfriend. You could step in? We don’t want her to be lonely tonight, do we? What do you say?”
Amanda looked at Natsumi who had stopped laughing. Mint was going too far again. The Australian grabbed the protesting Mint, pulled her away from Elise and handed her over to Natsumi, who dragged her away from the scene. When the two girls had vanished around the next corner, Amanda reached out her hand to Elise who was still sitting on the floor.
“Are you alright?”
Elise nodded slowly, then took the Australian’s hand. Amanda pulled her up. It was only one year ago when they had sat on that porch in Charleston in the night air, but she sensed a change in the young woman. Her mellow exuberance that had warmed their conversation was overshadowed by a breeze of acridness.