Code of Conduct

by Cheyenne Blue

  Gabriela pushed aside the moment of unease. “What has happened? Has Jack thrown you out of the family business?”

  Viva’s gaze flickered between her glass and Gabriela’s face. “There’s no easy way to say this. Tennis Australia made me an offer, and I accepted. I’ll play three tournaments over summer, and then I’ll retire after the Australian Open. There’s a lot of exposure. It’s a golden send-off into retirement. It’s a huge honour.” Her fingers sought Gabriela’s and squeezed. “I’m still retiring; it’s just a little later than I originally planned.”

  The hot clasp of Viva’s fingers was stifling. For a moment, she couldn’t take in the words. Not retiring. How could that be? Viva had set the wheels in motion. She frowned. Not retiring. She swallowed. A miasma of emotion surged to the front. “You’re playing on?” Her voice croaked. “You’re still an active player?” The white haze of anger expanded in her chest. “How nice. For you, anyway. Not so good for me. Conflict of interest.” She spat the words. “Remember that discussion, Viva? Player and officials cannot date.” She surged to her feet, the glass of wine shaking precariously. “I cannot be here.”

  Viva bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be better to tell you in person than over the phone. It’s only three tournaments. After that, I may only play a few doubles matches.”

  “If they want exposure for you, you must be playing the bigger tournaments. I’m sure they’re not packing you off to Hobart where there’s barely any TV coverage.” Gabriela turned away and stared out into the evening. Her stomach turned over, and she was glad she hadn’t started eating.

  “Yes, Brisbane, Sydney, and then the Australian Open.”

  “The same tournaments that I’m officiating at.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “I wonder did you listen to me at all.” She swung around again.

  Viva hunched wide-eyed at the table, her face pale. “I did.” She reached out a hand. It hovered in the air.

  Gabriela stared at it, and her fingers clenched into a fist.

  Viva’s hand lowered to the table.

  “If you listened, then why are you still not taking in what I say? Now you say you will keep playing doubles. You never even mentioned that. That does not sound like retirement to me.”

  “I didn’t think it would matter that much.” Viva was pale, her eyes wide and shell-shocked. “You’re a high-ranked official; you don’t umpire many doubles matches. I just can’t give up tennis entirely. It’s everything to me. My wrist could cope with a few doubles matches. I thought that would be okay…for us.”

  Gabriela smashed her fist onto the table, hard enough that Viva’s wine slopped over the rim of the glass. “It may be okay for you. To me, it matters. You’re a player; I’m an official. We cannot have a relationship.”

  “Not now maybe. I thought if we eased off now and waited until I’ve retired from singles. The end of January, after the Australian Open. Six weeks. Then it’d be all right.”

  “Too many people already know: your family, your coach, probably your agent. Any number of people who saw us having dinner in Brisbane. Maybe they do not know me, do not even recognise you, but you can bet your ass they will remember when your face is plastered over the news on your farewell tour. Your singles farewell tour.” She heaved a breath and sat once more. “I was wrong to go out with you the first time. It was wrong that we slept together, and there is no excuse for why we kept seeing each other. I take the blame for that first date. But Viva,” she leant forward so that their faces were close together, “I told you what my career means to me. I wouldn’t have slept with you if you hadn’t assured me you were retiring. Not next month, but the next day.”

  Across the table, Viva’s face was white under her tan and still. She was listening now. Too little too late. Her lips parted. “Gabriela, I’m—”

  “Do not speak to me. Do not apologise. I cannot decide if you are deceitful or just thoughtless. Your career may be as good as over; mine is not. If word of this gets back to the International Tennis Federation, I can forget about reaching gold badge. I’ll be lucky to get any high-level matches at all. My best chance is to disclose our relationship to the ITF and try to explain.” Anger and misery warred in her chest. Viva had been magnificent. A woman she could really have fallen for. Have already fallen for, a small voice whispered. But not at the expense of her career, if indeed it was still salvageable.

  Viva seemed to shrink into herself, her shoulders hunching, her face a closed wall of disquiet. “It’s only three tournaments,” she whispered. “Surely, we can just stay out of each other’s way during that time? Then we can—”

  “What? Carry on as if nothing had happened? Maybe you can do that; I can’t.”

  “I can’t stop it now.” Viva pushed shaking fingers into her hair. “I’m committed. They’ve commenced filming a TV special on me. I’ll be commentating. My matches will be centre court, prime time. It’s the end of an era for me. I have to do this.”

  “At my expense? I’m sure the money you’ll get for this will keep you warm at night. I’m sure you’re laughing at me, worried about a career that nets me a tiny fraction of your earnings.”

  “I’m not laughing. That’s the last thing I’d do. I know how important your career is to you.” Her expression was anguished. “I’ll go to the ITF on your behalf. Explain. Ask that they not allocate you to any of my matches. I’ll be lucky to get through the early rounds.”

  “Stay out of my career. You will make it worse.” Gabriela clenched her fingers on the glass and drained the contents in two swallows. “You have done enough damage.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  Gabriela stood. “Hang on to that thought. I hope it keeps you satisfied at night. Thank you for the wine.” She spun on her heel and turned to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “First to see if Ethan and Lindy have a room for the night. I do not see a car club, so I am sure they have. Then I will ask for dinner to be served in my room. Tomorrow morning, I will be gone.”

  “You can—”

  Her laugh was curt, and she swung back to face Viva. “What, stay in your room? I don’t think so. Goodbye, Viva.”

  Viva looked beaten. But she swallowed and stood, uncurling her long body so that she stood tall and proud. “As you will. Goodbye, Gabriela. I will treasure the time we shared.”

  Gabriela met her gaze. Viva’s blue eyes were unblinking, a sadness already hiding in the depths.

  “As will I.” Gabriela steeled herself against the rush of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. It is over.

  Resolve alone carried her away from Viva, down the creaky wooden stairs to the kitchen to find Ethan and Lindy.

  “I’m hearing all sorts of rumours about you.” Michi’s face filled the screen, her hair—still pink—in a messy pile on the top of her head. She wore a bra with stars on one breast and stripes on the other.

  “Is it legal to desecrate the flag like that?” Viva adjusted the laptop so that Michi would be able to see her better over the Skype connection.

  Michi glanced down at her chest. “I like to think I’m enhancing it.” She leant forward so that her face filled the screen. “Stop changing the subject. I want to know about the rumours.”

  “Since when have you paid attention to them? If you believed the rumours from ten years ago, you and I’d be married.”

  “Wasn’t legal back then.” Michi grinned and sat back.

  “No one I want to marry.”

  “Oh? That’s one of the rumours I’ve heard lately. But it’s the other one I want to talk about. Retirement. Sound familiar?”

  “It does. Where did you hear that?”

  “Brett heard that Deepak was moving to Florida early next year. Does that mean what I think it means?”

  Viva sighed.
“It does.”

  “Your wrist?”

  “Yeah. I’ve tried, Michi. It’s never going to be strong enough to play consistently at high level.”

  The ebullient Michi was uncharacteristically silent. “I’m sorry.”

  “I still intend to play doubles—if you’ll still have me as your partner. I’ll understand if you wave bye-bye and skip off into the sunset with Paige as your partner.”

  “She’s good. Really good. Better backhand than you.”

  “Glad you’re going to miss me.”

  “I’d trade her perfect backhand swing for your two-handed grunt anytime. Of course you’re still my doubles partner!”

  Viva managed a weak smile. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard for a while. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep playing. Even doubles might be too much.”

  “I’ll have you as long as you’re available.” Michi winked. “When are you going to announce your retirement?”

  Viva sat back in her chair. “At the start of the Brisbane International. Tennis Australia cut me a sweet deal. I’ll be tennis history after the Australian Open.”

  “Now that’s settled,” Michi’s grin crinkled her eyes, “what’s this I hear about you with a girlfriend?”

  “Who told you that?” Shit, shit, shit. Viva exhaled in a long, shaky breath as her pulse pounded in her ears. Michi wasn’t one to spread gossip unless there was something behind it. Who had mentioned seeing her and Gabriela? She bit her lip as she tried to work out who it could be.

  “I’ll tell you once you’ve told me if it’s true or not.”

  “The rumour mill’s false on that one.”

  “Then why did you blink fast just then, as if you had something in your eye?”

  “Because I did have something in my eye.”

  “Bullshit.” Michi snorted inelegantly. “Shall I save you this evasive dance? Rumour has it you’re dating an official. Gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Not now. “Now you have to tell me where you heard it.”

  “Alina Pashin. I didn’t listen, because you know how she likes to make trouble, but then I heard it again from someone else.”

  “Who?” Viva expelled her breath shakily. It was a worry that Michi had heard rumours over in the States. And Alina was about as bad as it could get. The ITF would have wind of it now—Alina would have made sure they knew, even if they hadn’t heard it any other way. Then what would that mean for Gabriela, for her career?

  “One of the club coaches. But I don’t think she really knew anything. She was pumping me for information.”

  “What did Alina say?” Anxiety swelled in her chest. Alina, of all people. Why couldn’t it have been Paige, who would probably have shrugged and figured it wasn’t her business? But no, it was Alina. Someone who seemed to have it in for Viva and would delight in bringing her down. But this wasn’t just about her. It was about Gabriela.

  “Ha! It’s true, then. You wouldn’t give a rat’s patootie what Alina said otherwise.”

  “Are you going to crow about being right, or are you going to tell me?”

  Michi was silent for a second. “Alina’s a bitch. You remember that, right?”

  Viva grimaced. “I’m hardly likely to forget. She said to me after I won the US Open, ‘You got lucky once and won a grand slam, but you’re not that good a player.’ That was so charming of her.”

  “Hold on to the fact you dislike her. I spent a couple of days in Florida, at Delacourt Tennis Academy. That’s where Alina trains.”

  Viva nodded.

  “I had the pleasure—not—of hitting with her. She makes even a friendly hit a slugfest.” Michi scowled. “I made her pissy because I refused to run for her shots if it was likely I wouldn’t reach them. Anyway, at the net at the end, she said, all offhand, ‘I hear your little doubles partner is dating an official. Guess she has to win somehow.’ And then she swished away like she was on the red carpet.”

  Viva swallowed hard, worry jumping in her throat in jagged stabs of anxiety. “Shit. So much for thinking no one would find out. And how does Alina know?” She dropped her head into her hands.

  “The rumour mill, but I have no idea how she found out. She keeps herself so aloof.” Michi leant forward again, her face wiped clean of expression. “Viva, an official? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I know, Michi. Believe me, it’s come up. It’s also why I am not dating anyone at the moment. Although I wish I was. I really wish it.”

  Michi touched the screen, as if she could touch Viva’s hand. “What happened?”

  “The rumours are about Gabriela Mendaro. We met by chance. She spends every December in Queensland. It was a bit of a rocky start, as I recognised her as the lineswoman who called me for two foot-faults in the US Open.”

  “And you crashed out of the Open after losing that match.” Michi whistled. “I’m surprised you didn’t slaughter her.”

  “We got past it. I like her. She’s good to talk to, warm, understands our lifestyle of course. And she’s simply gorgeous.”

  “I wondered when you’d get around to mentioning that.” Her head tilted quizzically. “Reckon Alina’s attracted to women?”

  Viva considered. “I used to wonder, but then she turned so unfriendly I stopped caring. She’s dating one of the male players.”

  “Bisexuality. It’s real, remember?” She pointed to herself. “And Alina wouldn’t be the first player to date a guy to deflect rumours. She’s not important, though, Gabriela is. So, what happened?”

  “Gabriela’s car broke down near Waggs Pocket. I gave her a lift to Brisbane, and she left a bag in my car. We went out for dinner, it turned into overnight and then grew from there. I liked her, Michi. Really liked her. She was hesitant about spending time with me because of the whole player-official thing. Her career is important to her—of course it is. But I told her I was retiring.” Her laugh was hollow. “Then I talked to Shirley. You can guess the rest.”

  “Gabriela wasn’t happy, and that was the end of what had barely started. Am I right?” The naked sympathy in Michi’s face made Viva swallow hard.

  She nodded. “Pretty much. I’ve gained the sort of send-off from the sport that every player dreams of, but I’ve lost the promise of… Well, I don’t know what to call it at the moment. It was too early for it to be anything more than potential.”

  Michi was silent. “In your heart, do you think it could have been more?”

  “Maybe. Yes. I think so. I’ll never know now. Gabriela stormed off. I don’t blame her. I was a bit caught up in my own life, and I disregarded her feelings on all of this. She’s too honest, too straightforward for subterfuge.” She bit her lip. “If Alina knows, though, that’s about as bad as it can get. She won’t keep it to herself.”

  “If it’s over, does it matter?”

  “It does to Gabriela. She’s worried the ITF will penalise her. If they do, it’s all my fault.” Viva pushed her fingers into her hair. “I don’t want that for her. Her career could be destroyed because of me.” She paused. Gabriela was the one who would pay the price. It’s all so fucking unfair. Guilt and misery welled in her chest, and she couldn’t speak. She took a quick breath. Another, willing away the sadness. “Anyway, I’m hitting again as of yesterday. Can’t let my doubles partner down.”

  “That won’t happen. Hey! Does this mean I’ll be getting centre court time because I’m playing with you?”

  “I guess. They’re giving me prime-time slots for my matches.”

  “Great. I’ll wear a really risqué outfit. Want me to keep the pink hair? It will show up really well against the blue courts in Oz.”

  “Absolutely. I love the pink.”

  “I’ll be over soon enough. A couple of days before Christmas.”

  “My parents asked if you want to sp
end Christmas with us at the pub. Nothing special. Family time. Mum and I will be cooking, so the food should be okay.”

  “I’d love that. Please thank them for me. It will be so much nicer to spend the day with you rather than on my own in some hotel.”

  “There’s a tennis court an hour away if we want to hit, but it’s a cracked concrete court, nothing fancy.”

  “I remember. And I love running the river path.”

  Unbidden, the memory surfaced of her and Gabriela strolling that same trail. That was the last time she’d seen her, before she’d stormed off back to Brisbane. Viva pushed the thought from her head. What was important now was tennis.

  She ended the conversation with Michi and wandered downstairs. It was early. Her dad was preparing breakfast, and her mum was outside, putting out minced meat for the wild magpies.

  Viva perched on a stool and watched her dad work. “Michi’s coming for Christmas.”

  “Good. Nice girl, Michi. Think she’d do a turn in the bar? We could advertise it as doubles night. You and Michi behind the bar and two-for-one drinks.”

  “She’d be up for that. Make it trivia night too. She’s a whiz at that.”

  Her dad cracked eggs into a bowl. “How’s the wrist holding up?” He turned, wooden spoon in hand, and regarded her. “Truthful answer, Viva. None of your half-truths or positive evasions.”

  She smiled at his perceptiveness. “It’s holding up fine. So far, so good.”

  “Any word from Gabriela?”

  “No.” She slid from the stool. “Want me to do the toast?”

  “Sure,” he said after a moment. “It’s just you and me. Your mum’s not eating brekkie, and Jack’s still in bed.”

  When the eggs were ready, her dad slid them onto plates. “Have you given any thought to life after January?”

  “Of course. If my commentating during the Australian season goes well, maybe I’ll get work over the American and European seasons. I thought I’d sell the Brisbane apartment—I hope to make Waggs Pocket my base a bit more. I’ll be travelling a lot less than I was.”