Slammed

by Lola Keeley

  Of course, I watched her match and was both relieved and proud she’d made it through. Her reward was yet another matchup against Celeste in the semis, while I would be facing Keiko.

  I expected her first demands on walking through the door would be either dinner or a full breakdown of what the hell happened, but Toni’s first priority turned out to be backing me up onto the bar in the corner and going down on me until I practically had to beg for mercy. It turned out I was going to like her post-win routine very much, and I made sure to repay the favour once I got her as far as the edge of the bed.

  We paused long enough to order room service, although we took dessert to bed. The strawberries and cream might have been a nice little joke from the chef, but the way we used them would definitely have resulted in us being thrown out of Wimbledon.

  “Will you have to talk to the media tomorrow?” Toni asked. “Only I checked and you missed them entirely today.”

  “I slipped away in all the chaos,” I told her. “Officially, the statement was that I didn’t want to comment on a volatile situation, but at some point I’ll have to do some questions, yeah.”

  “When’s the last time someone got a match penalty? I’ve seen games get taken for busting up racquets or swearing, but this was straight to maximum.”

  “It doesn’t happen often; I’ve certainly never seen it in person before. I don’t know what made her that mad. She’s young, I know, but this isn’t such an insane pressure here. Nice to win, sure, and competitive. But she might have blown up her whole career unless she finds someone who can teach her to control that.”

  “I’m just glad it was punished,” Toni admitted. “I spent a lot of time fighting that ‘fiery Latina’ bullshit, and too often you see white girls get away with so much more. At least your umpire was in no mood.”

  “Bill’s okay,” I said. “The one time I cursed at him he put the fear of God in me, and I haven’t misbehaved since.”

  “Before all your drama, I heard there’s some kind of leak with the testing data. That some newspaper will run that the testing has been biased.”

  I sat up at that news, dragging Toni with me.

  “Seriously? You wait until now to tell me?”

  “They won’t run it now, not with footage of the disqualification to play with,” Toni pointed out, and she had a point. “But it’s out there, it’s working. You got it started.”

  “Okay, good.” I reached for the water by the bed, dealing with my thirst. “Now, where were we?” I asked, dealing with another kind of thirst entirely.

  I ran Keiko close in the semi-final on that Thursday of the second week, when a lot of people were already letting their attention drift to the Miami Open the following week. I had no excuse but to join them when I went out after three sets, having been broken twice in the last one. Not my finest hour, and yet the new, fragile happiness with Toni was almost enough to offset it.

  “Be careful in there,” Parisa warned as we approached the press room. “Leave the drug stuff for Celeste and Toni if it comes up, okay?”

  “But—”

  “There’s a difference between taking the first shot to protect your friends and speaking over them when they deserve to be heard. Stand by them every step of the way, I know you will, but don’t be that white lady who hogs the spotlight on it. Stick to the Sarah debacle and anything else you can think of.”

  Parisa was right, as always. I took up my spot at the table, far more microphones and recorders on it that time. We were at the business end of the tournament, after all.

  I got a softball question from the BBC woman about how disappointed I was to go out at this stage, and it was a chance to get warmed up.

  “Obviously I would rather be in the final,” I wrapped up. “But Keiko played a smart match and deserves to be there. Depending on the other semi-final result, I might even be cheering her on.”

  There. That would both inflame and confuse the gossipmongers.

  Ulrika popped up again. “With word from the GTA being that they may consider a ban for Sarah Harrow, do you support that decision?”

  Shit, I hadn’t heard about that. I had been in kind of a cocoon since the match, though, doing the absolute minimum of activities that were outside of a hotel room.

  “Well, the rules are clear, I think. I’m not sure we should be adding special penalties on top of that. We didn’t, for example, when Jürgen threw his racquet in the Australian Open a while back and it hit a line judge.”

  Ulrika persisted, as she always did. “So you think there’s a problem in women’s tennis? You’ve already mentioned the drug testing.”

  “Yes, any organisation should be investigated if found to not be applying their own rules or acting in ways that are wrong. When it comes to Sarah’s case, I don’t know her. But I know the tour is a lot of pressure when you’re young, and we as a sport have to provide the support for all players. Not just physical but mental health too.”

  Wow, I had never talked so much in a conference. It was like I’d traded jobs and become Prime Minister of Sweden for the day. What next, was I going to raise taxes?

  The rest of the questions were familiar ground—was I going to play in Miami, was I looking ahead to the French Open? I handled them all with my customary short answers and left the room quite untroubled.

  Toni joined me on the loser’s bench that evening. While she wasn’t quite so happy on arrival, I was pleased to discover she liked to process her feelings about a loss with just as much enthusiasm as for a win, maybe even more so.

  I was quickly getting used to her staying over. So much so that I didn’t panic when the loud knock at the door came in the morning. I pulled the sheets up higher, reaching to reassure her, but that side of the bed was empty. A moment later, I heard the running water and grumbled the whole way to the door that I could have been joining her in the shower again instead. Checking before taking the door off the chain, I wasn’t entirely surprised to see my mother. I decided to let her in, but not without complaining a little.

  “Mamma, I booked us separate rooms this time for a reason,” I said, but she brushed past me without a care, ready for the day in another spotless navy blue tracksuit, her short hair pinned back and her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. I felt a sudden rush of love for her in that moment, even though she was clearly there to complain about something I’d done. She really had devoted so much of her life to helping me have all this. Despite our usual distance, I followed her in my fluffy robe and pulled her into a hug.

  “Yes, you might very well cling to me,” she said, patting my arm absently. “I’ve just been told that before you start at Miami on Tuesday, the GTA want to call you in for a meeting.”

  “Va’ fan!” It was my turn to curse, and my mother only nodded instead of correcting me. I let her go and started to pace. “What are they pissed about? That I protected a kid from Sarah Harrow? I won’t apologise for that.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’re going to bring something about that to be a problem for you, but no, the main issue is that you are, and I quote, ‘bringing the women’s game into disrepute.’”

  For a horrifying moment I thought she meant my fling with Toni, just started though it was. I felt the same sickening dizziness I always did when confronted with the prospect of blatant homophobia, but then I realised that couldn’t be it, no matter how paranoid I got.

  “The drug testing? They’re saying I’m slandering the association? I deliberately didn’t say more in the last press conference.”

  “You still made reference to it, about applying the rules. And you already claimed they’re racist or deliberately fixing results, when they say it’s all blind and fair and objective.”

  I began to pace. “If they’re so sure of that, why do they want to shut me up? See, this is why I had to be the one to do it. This sort of quiet intimidation would make someone less prote
cted back down. Well, they can screw their tap on the wrist. I’m not going.”

  “Elin, come on,” my mother warned, helping herself to an apple from the bowl on the table. “What does a meeting cost? They’ll come to Miami to meet with you.”

  “And I won’t be available.” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I’m telling Parisa now that I’m not agreeing to any meeting, and that I’ll continue to speak out if anything seems unfair to me.”

  My mother turned on me, and I’d rarely seen her so angry. It stopped the rest of my rant right there in my throat, like something I might choke on.

  “Enough! Why have you chosen this year to become a crusader? You don’t usually stand up for yourself, never mind your competitors.”

  “They’re my friends too, Mamma.” I folded my arms in disapproval, standing my ground.

  “From someone Sarah Harrow’s age I might expect it. Hell, you were a handful then too in your quiet way. But I have put up with everything from the retirement talk to fighting off new coaches, and now to the girlfriend hidden in the bathroom. Now you’re picking fights with the people who decide if you play this game, and if you get to win prize money.”

  “She’s not hiding. You just showed up unannounced.”

  With perfect timing, Toni chose to open the bathroom door, emerging in just a short towel and a cloud of steam. She barely flinched on seeing my mother. “Morning, Mrs Larsson. I hope Elin isn’t late for training.”

  “No, no, now that she’s out she gets a day or two off,” my mother replied, back to being perfectly pleasant as if a switch had been flipped. “Have you girls had breakfast yet?”

  Toni shook her head. “I’ll just get dressed real quick, if you have plans.”

  “Join us,” my mother insisted, full charming Britta mode like Toni was some big sponsor. “Elin, get yourself together too, and I’ll see you both downstairs.

  “Lobby or terrace?” I asked, since both those restaurants served breakfast.

  “The private dining room,” Mamma replied. “Parisa will meet us there too.”

  With a brisk wave, my mother left the suite and Toni just smiled at me.

  “Man, I never quite realised what it must be like having your mom in charge of your professional life. Mine would love this much involvement, if only she gave a damn about tennis.”

  “Not even now you’re winning stuff?” I hadn’t mentioned her mother’s absence in Mexico, since it was a small tournament and a hell of a journey there from Spain.

  “Maybe I can talk her into Paris or Wimbledon, if I stay fit for them.”

  “That would be nice. Now, as much as I’d rather you dropped that towel, we’ll get no peace until my mother gives me her lecture over breakfast. I’ll make it up to you after, I promise.”

  Toni dropped the towel anyway, revealing all that bronzed, toned skin that would make a professional sculptor weep with anticipation. She grinned as she saw my newly stunned reaction. This wasn’t going to get boring anytime soon. I was a hopeless lesbian, and she knew it. By some stroke of luck, she seemed just as into me, and I hoped harder than I ever had before that I wasn’t wrong about that.

  “You know, if we’re really quick, people will just assume we were slow picking out clothes.”

  “You’re a terrible influence,” I pretended to complain, but she silenced me with a searing kiss, minty-fresh from just brushing her teeth.

  She had a point. Breakfast could wait a little longer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I should have been annoyed that Parisa and my mother were conspiring by calling a meeting, but they had still invited Celeste to join us for breakfast, and she showed up despite being in preparation mode for another final.

  The private dining room meant we could all talk freely, but it didn’t take long for tempers and voices to rise.

  “I agree with Elin,” Celeste finally told the room, sipping at the coffee my mother had poured for her. “So what if they want to rap her on the knuckles? If anything, it shows they’re rattled for a reason. And this wussy non-threat is only happening because of who she is. Anyone else and it would be a full disciplinary. If they can’t come after her, I say she tells them to kiss her ass. Respectfully, ma’am.”

  Celeste had handled racism, sexism, and homophobia her whole life. She had gone toe-to-toe with some seriously tough people and always held her own. But she was unfailingly polite, and I maintained that some small part of the fearless woman was actually scared of my mother. Certainly about cursing in front of her.

  “Mamma, the worst they can do to me is issue a press release saying they disagree. They could do that without a meeting, so they clearly don’t want to make a big deal.” Toni’s fingers grazed my thigh under the table and my breath caught in my throat. “If I don’t make myself available, they’re not going to chase me on court, are they?”

  “You might be lucky, if they’re more interested in this ex-coach of yours, Antonia,” my mother said. “If that story keeps blowing up, you can all say what you like and no one will mind. But out of interest, were you all tested after your semi-finals?”

  I shook my head, but Celeste and Toni both nodded. The door opened then, and Mira entered. For a moment, I was surprised to see her, but that was years of avoiding her interviews at work. Of course she should be here if this affected Toni’s career.

  Parisa and my mother greeted Mira warmly, since they’d always been on good terms. It was just difficult me who didn’t like the media side of it all. Parisa took over the informal presentation.

  “Toni, you’ve been a blast to work with and I’m happy to do it as a favour as long as Elin asks me, but your federation should be supporting you through all this. I know a lot of women on the tour don’t get full-time assistants or publicists until they’re secure in the rankings or have a couple of slams. I don’t think you’re going to have the luxury of waiting that long.”

  “Well, the federation handles all my paperwork and press releases,” Toni replied, squeezing my thigh now through my track pants. She was going to pay for her teasing just as soon as we could get out of there. “I don’t do that much press outside of the official promos. I mean, I guess I could ask my old publicist back. She handled the modelling I did before?”

  “Perfect,” Mira answered. “And if she’s good, she can work directly with Parisa going forward. Anything you’re not sure of on the tennis side, ask me. I have a unique perspective, after all.” Her glossy bob was a sparkling silver, and despite the move to coaching, she was still dressed for television in a deep red pantsuit rather than activewear. There was a time she could have outplayed any of us at the table, even in her three-inch heels.

  Still, if we had to have a strategy session, I was proud that it was exclusively strong, independent women all at the top of their games. The problems were more likely in a room full of GTA suits, too many of whom were still entitled white men, who hadn’t ever been involved in the game. I hoped that would change over the next few years too. Wow, I really must be happier if I was sitting there plotting all the ways to make the world a better place. I laid my hand on top of Toni’s where it still rested on my thigh. One last thing was nagging at me.

  “Wait, why are we all coordinating? This drug-testing thing could die out in a week. If it carries on then Celeste will be the next person to go public, so…”

  “Uh, I think that’s more to do with ‘us,’” Toni answered, finger quotes and all. She looked around the table for confirmation, getting a shrug from Celeste and nodded confirmation from everyone else. “Nobody here wants us being a couple to get mixed up in these other issues because it’ll pull all the attention. So we let the publicists do our talking for a while.”

  I found myself blushing, but where in the past I would have denied it or played down any need for coordination, the simple act of touching Toni in that moment confirmed that I was serious about her. At l
east about trying to make it work, travel and competition and all. She might see sense and dump me before we got back out of Miami, but right now I didn’t want to consider any setup where we didn’t at least have the option to see each other every day.

  Our timing was pretty great too, since March was one of the more settled parts of the calendar. April was a mess, with little tournaments everywhere until we settled into some of the nicer European venues to get ready for the French Open.

  “Well, I appreciate everyone’s help,” I said. “But if we’re done for now, then I think I’d like to take Toni for lunch somewhere that isn’t decorated with tennis balls.”

  “I’ll e-mail what they say about you not taking the meeting,” Parisa replied. “So go have fun, you crazy kids.”

  I felt like a teenager being allowed to go to prom at the last minute, but since I’d been a teenager who played in junior pro tournaments instead of going to anything like a prom, I decided to lean the hell into the feeling and enjoy it.

  Judging from the soft giggle as I dragged Toni out of that room, she was on the same page.

  There was one downside to Miami, and every year it gave me pause to check every joint and muscle, just in case a tiny injury might be developing to keep me out of it.

  Not the weather; I’d played in dry and humid heat all over the world. There was a reason they called it and Indian Wells the Sunshine Double. I certainly didn’t mind the city with its amazing restaurants and beach culture. I was actually looking forward to seeing more of the Spanish-speaking side with Toni to demystify some of it. It wasn’t remarkably different as a tournament, one way or another.

  No, the one thing that put me off the second competition was Miami Airport. It was at least a little more bearable flying private, so I had insisted when Parisa made the arrangements.

  Celeste had triumphed in California and was now seeded favourite to do the same in Miami. The urge to not allow that, to claim the title for myself, thrummed in my veins from the moment we set foot on the plane.