by Lola Keeley
“Elin, hi!” Okay, clearly we’d met before. I wished I was better at faces. “We haven’t met, but ninety minutes watching you clean up on court and I feel like I’ve known you forever.” Just a bit too friendly then. I felt my straight-guy-defences activate and slide into place.
“Hi…” My mother mouthed Frank at me. “Frank. Thanks for taking the time. I have my physio waiting for me back in the locker rooms, if you want to grab a drink to go?”
“Sure, I can work with that,” he said. I waited for him to ask what was wrong, but the question didn’t come. Great, a real empathetic type. “So do you stick around tomorrow and watch the men’s final too? Or is it more check out once you get the trophy?”
I summoned some patience and walked him out past a couple of servers so he could swipe a drink. This was going to be a long afternoon. For a moment I wished I was the kind of person who loved the crowd, so I could have stayed to soak up the attention and blown off the interview instead.
My phone vibrated as we approached the changing room, and I checked it despite my better judgment.
Hope you didn’t mind me talking about your ass.
I smiled like a dopey idiot. Why would I mind? Just try to keep it off ESPN.
“Right in here, Frank. This is Ezi, the best physiotherapist in the world.”
They shook hands, letting me read the slowly typed reply.
That just sounds like a challenge. What do I win if I mention it in my next interview?
Suddenly the journalist and the poking and prodding from Ezi didn’t seem so bad, not even when she ran through the initial checks and confirmed it would be another trip to the doctor.
Everything just seemed that bit more bearable with Toni’s messages brightening up the day.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I made it to Singapore, though only with a week of regular training behind me. At least my hip had healed good and proper this time, no rushing to be ready.
This would be our last year playing the finals in Singapore, with the next few years already booked up for China. I was almost sad to see the change, although the prospect of visiting somewhere new was one of the few things that tempted me to keep competing, at least for another year. As I made my way through Changi Airport, I stopped and blinked at the realisation. That was the first time in ages that I’d thought about next season before someone dragged me into talking about it.
Why did it feel like Toni’s influence, however indirectly?
We’d been texting back and forth, nothing I could point to and say “Look, flirting,” but I was glad to see her name on my phone almost every time I looked at it. Especially since Alice, still pissed about me letting her down for her queer charity drive, hadn’t been talking to me at all.
“Ms Larsson?” The driver held up a sign. A small crowd had gathered, players arriving all around the same time despite the different corners we were arriving from.
Travelling first class definitely had its perks, including not having to handle the ton of luggage that I dragged with me from country to country all year. With just my backpack of essentials, I slipped into the waiting SUV and the airline porters loaded the bags for me. Parisa followed on, taking care of tips and everything else until we set off for the hotel. My phone vibrated into life as soon as I turned it on.
Landed?
I couldn’t deny just seeing Toni’s name on the screen had put a spring in my step as we crossed the hotel lobby.
At the St. Regis about to check in
She startled me by calling. What kind of person did that? Calls could be overheard and gave no time for thinking up witty things to say. I was bad at phones, but texting I could handle. I answered anyway, since thinking up an excuse would have taken even longer.
“Are you really staying at the St. Regis?” Toni said. “I thought you’d be in one of those crazy super hotels somewhere. We can breakfast together. I mean, if you wanted.”
“I guess that means you’re staying here…” I trailed off, spotting her on the opposite side of the marble lobby. Xavi stood a little way from her, surrounded by their bags and arguing with someone in a bellhop uniform. I decided to risk it and jogged over as soon as I hung up. “Hey.”
“I didn’t think you were going to make it. The girls were gossiping, and they said you wouldn’t be back before Australia.”
“And let Celeste sneak past me?” I acted like I’d never been so offended and probably looked like a complete idiot in the process. “You must be up in the rankings to make this. Congrats.” I said it so smoothly no one could ever prove I’d been tracking her numbers relentlessly since Wimbledon.
Xavi interrupted, the Spanish far too fast for me even to pick out words, but Toni argued right back until he took off with one of their bags, the bellhop shuffling after him with the rest.
“You hungry?” Toni asked. “I slept the whole flight and now I’m starving.”
“I could eat,” I said, and although in my jeans and a tank top I wasn’t technically dressed for dinner, I knew the staff here in the restaurants would accommodate me. Toni looked much smarter in her kicky blue dress and sandals. I looked for Parisa, but she was deep in conversation at reception. A text would do. “You stayed here before?”
“No, never made the finals before. The last time I was on track was the year I did my back. Is it always so humid here?”
“Pretty much,” I admitted, although we were in the blissful cool of industrial-strength air conditioning as we walked through the lobby to where the restaurants were laid out. “We’re right on the equator, so we don’t linger outside for long. Not when we can be chilled like this. You okay with Italian? It means we can sit out by the pool, which is nice.”
“I love Italian,” Toni replied, falling in step with me like we went out all the time. “But what are my other options, just to see what I could have won?”
“Well, there’s fantastic Chinese.” I gestured towards the elevators that would take us there. “Or down here also French. They have these little… I forget the word, but it’s like almost private dining? Which is nice when the press is around, but it might look a bit much. Or something.”
“A bit much?” Toni asked, her smile teasing. “You mean it might look like a date?”
I managed to choke on air for fully five seconds. Thankfully I hadn’t been drinking anything. “Right. Might look like that.”
“Well, I know how you hate drawing attention, so let’s see if we can have pasta by the pool.”
The maître d’, Mauro, greeted me like an old friend, even though I only spent a week here every year. I supposed in real terms that almost made him a constant in my life. Mauro chatted to Toni as he led us outside, and I was pleased to see the free table was the one tucked in at the far end, with some plants mostly obscuring us from view.
I declined the offer of wine, still feeling my way back into my regular schedule. I’d be up and in the gym by six a.m., so I decided to be kind to my future self. Toni was more adventurous, opting for a glass of red.
We didn’t really get talking again until the drinks came out and we ordered our food. I caught myself fidgeting with the napkin, my cutlery, the seam down the side of my jeans. I’d chosen the seat with my back to other diners, not wanting the distraction if anyone did recognise me. It felt like some rare achievement, having Toni all to myself after weeks of just texting.
Her phone interrupted just then, prompting a quick but quiet torrent of Spanish. She ended the call with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
“Xavi,” she explained, although I’d already worked that much out. “To warn me not to go wild tonight. Like I’d forget I have a doubles match tomorrow.”
“Maybe he just misses you,” I joked. I knew it would be polite to invite him down to join us, but the words stuck in my throat. “God, that pool looks nice.”
“I think the other diners would
notice if you dived in.”
“So that’s a no on skinny dipping?” I asked, taking a sip of my sparkling water. Awful stuff, but I’d made myself get used to it. “I’ve been swimming a lot lately, good for my busted hip.”
I didn’t miss the way Toni’s eyes had widened at the mention of skinny dipping or how her smile got wider. Maybe I had finally learned how to play it cool.
“Any big plans for your vacation time?” she asked, taking a hearty mouthful of her wine and not quite looking at me.
I didn’t have any. Usually I dragged my heels and then by the end of the finals picked something from the e-mails Parisa would send me. Some of them were favours or gifts from sponsors or friends, while others were just nice places she thought I might like. I was starting to realise I might be a little bit, well, spoiled.
“Part of me would like to just go home. We spend so much of the year on the road that it’s nice to just be in one place, you know?” I ran a hand through my hair. She nodded, knowing the feeling all too well. “But then there’s that quiet pressure to… Well, it’s silly, but I feel as though if I don’t have a real holiday then it adds to this idea that I’m this boring person who never has any fun.”
Yikes. A little more honest than I intended to be.
Even Toni looked a little startled by it. She recovered quickly. “You really worry what people think, don’t you?”
“I try not to. I’ve done every kind of meditation and therapy exercise, but the only time I can really drown it out is when I’m on court. There, I just have to win. My brain finally lets up on whether I was polite to my driver, or if my skirt is the right shade of white, or if the people in the third row think I’m dating Jürgen.”
Toni took another long sip of her wine. “Maybe that’s what makes you so good. That you need the peace you get out there.”
“Maybe. I, for one, am thoroughly sick of talking about me, though. In case you thought I liked it. How was your week? You played the Kremlin Cup, right?”
“You pay attention to all that?” Toni laughed, playing with a strand of dark hair that had fallen forward over her face. We both defaulted to hair down on occasions like these, having to spend so much time with it tied up and pinned under sweatbands and bandanas. “Moscow is pretty cool, I got to do some sightseeing this time out.”
“With Xavi?” Would I ever learn to stop picking at it like a scab?
“God, no. He barely leaves the hotel or the complex if he can help it. Put them both in the same place and he’s in heaven. No, I went out with some of the other girls. Keiko asked me, which is pretty nice of her considering.”
“I always meant to see more of Russia,” I confessed. “When I was a little girl I was obsessed with the last Tsar. Even asked my dad a few times if I might be a lost princess.”
That got another laugh from her. Toni was starting to make me feel like Ellen DeGeneres; nobody ever seemed to find me all that funny.
“I can’t believe I made the final, though,” Toni continued. “I know it’s old hat for you, but it was like I finally got close. Made losing even more of a bitch, but hey, there’s no shame in losing to Celeste.”
“None,” I assured her. Toni didn’t perk up, though, so on impulse I reached out to squeeze her hand. “Trust me, you’ll be back with other chances. But Celeste can take out anyone on her day.”
“You guys are friends, right?”
“That’s a complicated question.” I wished I’d gone for the damn wine now. Still, it was hardly a secret. “You’ve probably heard it around the place anyway, but we dated for a while.”
“Oh!” Toni blushed almost as dark as her wine for a moment. “I don’t listen to rumours so… Well, so… That’s cool. Cool, yes.”
“You really didn’t know?” I practically heard Alice taunting me inside my head. “I’m not exactly out, but I didn’t think it was news.”
“Hey, your personal life is your own. I didn’t want to force you to tell me.” Toni had recovered her composure, but something about her was a little off. Had I completely misread her? Did she think her mild flirtation was safe with a fellow straight girl and I had just blown that out of the water? We were saved by the arrival of our food.
I felt a little jealous of her risotto when they set it down, at least until my own pasta appeared and my stomach growled to remind me I hadn’t eaten since my last snack on the plane. Burning through as much energy as we did, our bodies were always primed for more fuel to burn, and this was some damn delicious fuel in the form of a perfect puttanesca.
“Wow, that must be some damn good pasta,” Toni teased as I moaned ever so slightly over the first bite. I hadn’t meant to, but it really was delicious.
“How’s yours?” I asked, and she nodded enthusiastically while taking another bite. “It’s almost always good here.” I said it with confidence, but honestly a lot of hotels and restaurants all blurred into one another at this point.
“We were talking about vacations, weren’t we?” Toni said as we made our way through the respective dishes. “I think I might go back to Mexico this year.”
“You still have a place in Spain though, right?”
“Mmm, but my dad’s family are in Guadalajara.” The way she said it was lovely, like the word itself was a happy memory. “My grandmother has a big old house south of the city, almost all the way to Lake Chapala. It’s really beautiful there.”
“Sounds like rest and relaxation to me,” I said. “You must need it too, coming back from such a tough injury and playing a season like this. You’ve been in a lot more than I have.”
“Yeah, but you know how it is. After you get injured, you’re just so grateful to be playing again, you don’t really mind how tough it is. Just so long as you can get out there.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Still, you could go anywhere I bet. The Maldives, or maybe one of those private islands somewhere. That must be cool.”
“Sure, I mean there are options. It would just be nice to go visit someone, or with someone. Not my whole entourage with a training schedule and bags of spare racquets. Just…a real holiday. One bag and a camera around my neck, you know? Play tourist.”
“Sounds nice, when you say it like this.”
We ate the rest of our meal in companionable silence, and when Toni ordered a second glass of wine, I had them bring the bottle so I could join her.
“Sitting here, we could almost just be tourists,” I said, realising we now had the pool patio to ourselves, candles lit silently by the staff while we had been oblivious. It was almost romantic, but I didn’t dare think of it that way. Toni’s dark eyes caught the candlelight beautifully, and I had even more trouble than usual not just staring at her. “Until you remember all our kit is upstairs, and the people to go with it.”
“Have you ever been to Mexico?” Toni asked in return. “Other than playing the Open there.”
“I haven’t in a few years,” I admitted. The prize wasn’t on the higher end of the scale, and it always landed on a week where I’d had a more lucrative option. I shrugged off the vague sense of guilt. We all made those calculations. “And I haven’t seen much of the country outside of a tournament, no. Oh! About ten years ago I had a long weekend in Cabo San Lucas. That counts, right?”
“Just about,” Toni replied. “I mean, maybe it’s weird of me to ask, but you could always come visit me for a vacation. There’s plenty of room. It’s not…you know, like this…” She gestured to the hotel in all its opulence. “But you’d be more than welcome. Abuela is always nagging me to bring friends, or a boyfriend.”
Ah. Fresh confirmation. Still, friends wasn’t such a hardship when it came to Toni. Despite my bubbling crush, I found her company much more pleasant that just about anyone else’s.
“And you’re not taking a boyfriend?”
“Why would I take some man there and ruin
all my peace?” Toni scoffed. “It’s the only time of year I can control exactly who I see and what I do. So Abuela can ask all she wants; that’s never going to happen.”
“Wouldn’t I be intruding, then?”
“No, because I’m choosing to see you, to spend time with you. Listen, you probably have a hundred better offers, but it’s there if you need it. No importa, right?”
She rarely lapsed into Spanish around me, but I appreciated the sentiment all the same.
“Let me check nobody made plans for me already—that happens sometimes—and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“Okay. You’re not tired from your flight? I don’t want to keep you out later than you should.”
“No, I’m wide awake,” I told her, and despite the long day it had the benefit of being true. “Tell me more about your grandmother’s house.”
I made it back to my suite just before midnight, unheard of at the start of a tournament. The Manhattan suite was everything I remembered but with a few new cool touches. My mother wouldn’t arrive until the following morning, so I had the whole set of rooms to myself. Parisa was in her own room somewhere down the hall, and she’d left my key at reception for me.
The knock at the door startled me. Had Parisa ordered some kind of room service for when I got back? I checked my phone for missed calls or messages only to discover it wasn’t in the pocket of my jeans. Great. I opened the door before I could get annoyed about that.
Only to find Toni standing there, my phone in hand.
“I figured you’d be on the top floor.” She offered me the phone, and I took it gratefully. Not that it really held all my secrets, but the thought of it being out in the world without me had still made me panic a little.
I realised my chest was still tight and forced myself to relax. “Well, you know, they just call, and I guess this is what I was offered. Usually Mamma takes the other room, but she’s not in yet.”