Grand Slam (19 page)

‘Where's Jack?'

‘They have left.'

I checked my watch. ‘How long did I sleep?'

‘Maybe one hour.'

I swung my legs off the sofa and stretched my back, which was now aching whereas before, when I said it was, it wasn't. ‘Where's Teresa?'

‘In her room having the rest. She is overwhelmed with anxiety about me, I think.'

Overwhelmed with anxiety about Jack's accusation, I think.

Emilio tried to kiss me again. ‘Ah,
mi amor
, how tempting you are. I have you here in my hotel room, and we are alone – but no! For the sake of my tennis, we must be strong.'

‘Yes, we must.' I pushed him back. ‘What did you all decide at the meeting?' How loud did I snore?

‘Your friends are very knowledgeable about criminals.'

‘Yep, that they are.'

‘Your friend,
Yack
, said he will speak with the tennis security people. He wants some of his own people there to keep an eye on me.' Emilio cocked his head. ‘You know, Emily, I am surprised that you are not attracted to
Yack
. He is very good looking,
si
?'

I yawned. ‘I hadn't noticed.'

‘I think he is almost as handsome as myself.'

‘No-one is as handsome as you, Emilio.' I patted his cheek. Where was my bag?

‘Yes, I know, but sometimes I meet someone like your friend and I do wonder. It does not happen very often.' He looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Emily, if she were not the lover of
Yack
, I would be tempted by Sharon Stone.'

‘Really? I can get her number for you.' An opportunity to kill two birds! Although it was annoying he had no problem remembering her name.

He laughed. ‘You are so funny.'

‘Come to think of it, I do quite fancy Yack after all.'

‘Ha ha! My cheeky monkey. Let us go now. My coach, he wants to do the training!'

Sigh. ‘All right.'

At the tennis, I looked for Charlotte. Emilio went to his dressing room, where I wasn't allowed, thank God. He wanted me to meet him at the practice courts so I could watch him train, but I wanted to find Charlotte, see if she'd found someone to go with her to Vlad's game and if not, I wanted to go. The match had already started. I had a sudden brainwave – maybe I could offer Mrs Booth tickets to the tennis and go into her house while she was away!

I'd tried calling Charlotte, and I'd sent her a couple of texts asking her to meet me in the café, but I hadn't heard back. I went there anyway, and looked around. No Charlotte. It was almost empty, understandably, but there were a couple of television screens, so I got a coffee, sat and watched for a while. The Vavilov match was between sets. Vlad had easily won the first. The camera shots flashed from Vlad to the poor young Aussie he was thrashing, and to people in the crowd. I knew roughly where Charlotte would be sitting so I looked for her, trying to remember what she was wearing. The camera zoomed in on some famous person. I leaned in, squinting at the screen. It was an Australian actress, and right behind her was Charlotte. The person sitting next to Charlotte was wearing a large sunhat. Her head was down, concentrating on something in her lap. She looked up suddenly and bent toward Charlotte, whispering in her ear, hand up so no-one could hear her gossip. The woman was my mother.

I shot out of the chair and fumbled in my bag for my mobile phone. I dialled Charlotte's number, watching the television, waiting for the camera to swing back to the actress. There. I saw Charlotte reach down, and my call went to message bank. Bloody hell. Charlotte Johnson was sitting in
my
seat at
my
tennis with
my
mother! I sat again, arms crossed, and huffed. It hadn't occurred to me to offer Mum and Dad tickets to the tennis. I didn't even know Mum liked it. Had I ever asked? No, I hadn't. Did she and Dad watch it on telly? I didn't know.

I realised I had my Access All Areas pass around my neck, which meant I could enter the arena without a ticket. I waited at the gate for the end of the game, when ushers released the ropes and let the crowds move in and out of the stadium.

As I headed down the steps, they were on their way up.

‘Hello, dear. Look out, we're going for a cuppa.'

I stood aside and they walked by. Charlotte said, with that annoying small smile of hers, ‘I was just going to call you.'

Yeah, sure you were. I followed them out of the stadium into the concourse.

Mum looked around. ‘Now, where is the lavatory?' She started waving excitedly. ‘Yoo hoo, Jack!' She elbowed me. ‘Look, dear, there's Jack.'

Sure enough, there he was, sauntering toward us. Women's heads swivelled, tracking his movement as he passed them. Not that he was wearing anything special, but it was good enough to make me swoon. I looked for somewhere to sit among the seats against the wall, but all were taken. I took Mum's arm.

‘What's the matter, dear? Feeling faint from the heat?'

‘Uh-huh.' I fanned my face.

‘You should drink some water.' She patted my hand in a rare display of affection.

Jack arrived, gave Mum a kiss on the cheek. ‘How are you, Margaret?'

‘Fancy seeing you here!' Mum threw me off. ‘Isn't the tennis marvellous? I love watching that Russian man, Volvo Voldemort.'

Jack said hello to Charlotte. She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, cheeky thing. He was yet to acknowledge me.

Mum said, ‘Now, I really do need to go
you know where
.'

‘Charlotte,' I said, ‘why don't you help Mum find the ladies'?' Seeing you brought her here and I don't trust you alone with Jack.

‘Sure.' She took Mum's arm and they left.

I looked up at Jack, gave him a smile. ‘Hello.'

He didn't smile back. ‘Hi.'

‘Something wrong?'

His mouth pursed and he put his hands on his hips.

I said, ‘Were you happy with how the meeting went with Emilio?'

‘Yes and no.'

‘What does that mean?'

He leaned in, eyes narrow, voice low. ‘You do realise that Méndez is completely deluded.'

‘Um, about something in particular?'

‘Something in particular?' His voice was slightly raised now and a few people glanced at us. This was a Jack I'd never seen. I'd seen him out-of-control angry, but I'd never seen him slightly-not-in-control angry. ‘Méndez thinks you're his girlfriend.' He waited for a response, which I didn't give him. ‘Maybe you are.'

‘Of course I'm not.'

‘Then why are you leading him on?'

‘Hold on a minute. I think Sharon thinks she has a chance with you. Maybe you're leading her on.'

‘Don't change the subject.'

‘It doesn't suit you to change the subject?'

I heard someone say, ‘That's
her
.'

People were watching us now. One, because I'm the most vile person on the planet for losing Emilio's precious, and two, because they were already watching Jack because he's so hot. Jack took my elbow and we went outside, stood in the sun and I shaded my face, which really didn't need another dose of skin cancer.

‘You're letting Méndez think he has a chance with you.'

‘He's like that with everyone. He's just . . . passionate. He even hugs and kisses you.'

‘He's different with you. I'm a man. I know what he wants.'

‘Look. I didn't ask for this —'

‘Maybe that's how you operate with men.' He folded his arms across his chest.

My jaw fell.
Operate?
I wondered if anyone would notice if I slapped his face. Instead I said, quietly, ‘No, it's not. You know it's not.'

‘How would I know that?'

‘Because you know me quite well and I'm telling you and I'm not a liar.' Except to my mother. And Rosalind. And Emilio. And God.

‘So, why?' His tightly crossed arms dropped, along with Mr Tough Guy. This was a
totally
different Jack. He seemed almost vulnerable now. Maybe the heat was getting to him. Maybe he was tired and grumpy.

I took a big breath and blew it out. ‘It . . . it just sort of happened. JD wants me to look after Emilio, make sure he has everything he needs to win this tournament. Then the whole business with the lucky charm —'

‘I'm sure John didn't mean
everything
.'

‘I know, but Emilio . . .' Another breath. ‘Actually, I feel a bit sorry for him. He lives in fantasy land. I don't think he's got very good parents. I . . . I don't want to spoil it for him. Not yet.' I gave him a small smile. ‘Once it's over I'll never see him again.'

He nodded, hands back on hips, eyes focused on the ground.

I nudged his arm. ‘It would be pretty good if he won the Open, wouldn't it?'

He looked at me over the top of his sunglasses. ‘How far will you take it?'

‘How far will I
take it
?' He watched me, waited for a response. What to say? Well, I'm thinking about marrying him but not having sex until our wedding night so if he dumps me after I can make a claim on his millions. Is that too far? ‘Emilio has a new girlfriend every month. I'm keeping him at arm's length, don't worry.' Why would Jack worry, anyway? What was his problem? He'd made it perfectly clear he doesn't do relationships. But look at him and Sharon Stone. Why did he invite her to live with him? Maybe he didn't invite her. Maybe she asked to stay. ‘Anyway, you've got Sharon to amuse you.'

‘Is that what you think? That you
amuse
me?'

‘And annoy you.'

He laughed. His whole body changed, relaxing. ‘All right.' His tone was much friendlier. ‘I guess you know what you're doing.'

And then
I
was laughing. Yeah, right.

‘You fill me with such confidence.' He gazed at me with some warmth, and put a hand on my cheek. His face came closer.

I whispered, ‘Are you going to kiss me?'

‘I thought I might.'

‘In public?'

‘I'm sure no-one's looking.'

I heard the unmistakable click of an old-fashioned camera shutter, a popular sound effect for the cameras in most mobile phones. When I looked, a girl was snapping a second – or was it a third? – shot of Jack and me together. Me, Emilio's Méndez's girlfriend. The girlfriend who could cause the demise of Emilio's career because of the lost amulet. The girlfriend who had just been photographed almost kissing another man. The photographer put her head down and hurried away.

Jack and I looked at each other. He shrugged. I shrugged.

‘You could shoot her,' I suggested.

He smiled, not realising I was serious.

As we walked back inside, I said, ‘Do you really think Teresa's involved in this? The threat against Emilio?'

‘It's a possibility. Anything's a possibility. She has no reasonable excuse for choosing the driver she chose.'

‘But she loves Emilio like a son.'

‘Police won't rule her out for that alone.'

This was true. I remembered the movie
The Bodyguard
, where the baddie turned out to be Whitney Houston's jealous sister. But why would Teresa want to hurt Emilio? I didn't believe it.

Jack and I said a polite, no-touching goodbye, and he went off to do whatever tough-guy stuff he was doing for Emilio, and I went looking for Mum and Charlotte, only to realise they were back watching ‘Volvo whatsisface' beat the pants off our poor young Aussie, who wouldn't have known what hit him.

I went to watch Emilio train, much to his pleasure, and much to the disgust of his coach.

I made it to the media room in time to watch Vavilov's interview. I slipped into the back seat and gazed across the heads of journalists. Booms were raised, camcorders positioned on tripods. The room was packed. There was a table set up on the low stage and the wall behind was covered with sponsor logos. Vavilov arrived and sat at the table with hands clasped in front of him. Some of the media applauded, not everyone. He gave a brief nod and the questions began. There were the usual comments about his brilliance and questions about the match. Someone asked if he thought Emilio Méndez had a chance against him.

‘Everybody has chance,' he said.

‘Are you worried about Méndez?'

‘He is good player. I am better.' Vavilov gave a brief, rare smile to show he was teasing.

‘What do you think about the threats against Méndez? We know the police interviewed you about it.'

A murmur started up in the room. Vavilov scowled and turned to his coach. The coach's hands were up.
Don't go there.

‘Please,' said Vavilov. ‘Talking about tennis.'

‘Are the Russians trying to sabotage Méndez?'

Vavilov slapped his hands on the desk, sat back, crossed his arms. Desi from Tennis Oz approached, leaned across Vavilov and spoke into the mic.

‘Only questions about the tennis, please. Mr Vavilov is happy to talk to you about his game.' Desi stood to the side.

Vavilov moved to the mic again. His voice shook slightly. ‘I am professional person. I think Mr Méndez my friend. I am look forward to match with him.' He stood and left.

Security guards watched the offending journo leave. As I left the room, I said to the security guy, ‘Don't suppose he'll be allowed back.'

The guy scowled down at me. ‘I not know.'

I wasn't a hundred per cent sure, but I reckoned the guy's accent was Russian.

Emilio's first match was on Tuesday afternoon and he wanted to meet me at eleven o'clock in the players' café. I was there on time but he wasn't. I called Jack.

‘I'm at the tennis and can't see the protesters. You didn't, you know, “sort them out”, did you?'

‘Sort them out?'

‘You know what I'm saying.'

‘I have no idea.'

‘Did you, you know . . . send someone to pay them a visit in the night?' I hoped he didn't do it himself. That would have been awfully hard for me to live with. For a while, anyway.

‘Erica, are you asking me if I had half-a-dozen innocent young people murdered in their sleep?'

‘Um. No.'

‘Yes, you are.'

‘I didn't mean it.'

He sighed. ‘I spoke to them.'

‘Really? What did they say?'

‘They had no idea what they were protesting about.'

I sat up straighter. ‘How could they not know?'

‘Because someone paid them to stand there. One of them was approached at Centrelink and asked if he had a few friends who wanted to earn some easy money.'

‘Who approached them?'

‘They didn't know. The guy didn't give a name, but he had an accent.'

‘Like fifty per cent of Melbourne's population.'

‘That's right. The kid had no idea what kind of accent it was, and couldn't give me a description beyond male, overweight, about one hundred and eighty centimetres, with brown hair.'

‘Like fifty per cent of Melbourne's population.'

‘Exactly.'

‘Do you think the accent was Russian?'

‘Of course.'

I considered all that. ‘How did you get them to leave?' I said eventually.

‘I paid them more than the other guy and suggested it wouldn't be a good idea if they came back. Joe was with me.'

‘Scared the shit out of them.'

‘Certainly did.'

At eleven thirty, Emilio walked in with his head bowed and hands stuck in his pockets, Teresa by his side. I stood to greet him, and he gripped me in a fierce hug.

‘Oh, Emily, I would not cope if you were not here.' He pulled back and took my face in his hands. ‘You have found —'

‘No, Emilio. Not yet.'

His shoulders sagged.

I said with a bright smile, ‘But today you will be brilliant and win this match!'

He nodded, sighed. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps today it will end for me. My tennis career.'

‘Oh, come now. Together, we can help you win, isn't that right, Teresa?'

She gave me a mournful face and I wanted to slap it.

‘Cheer up! Emilio, I'm here for you. What do you want me to do?'

‘You will watch me play, yes?' He looked past me. ‘Where is your little friend, Charlotte?'

Why doesn't he have trouble remembering Charlotte's name? And Sharon Stone's? And Yack's?

‘At work,' I said. ‘The protesters have gone, by the way.'

‘A miracle!'

‘No, Jack got rid of them. Someone paid them, Emilio. They weren't real protesters.'

‘Who would do this?'

‘Someone who wants you off the tournament, I suppose.' I glanced past Emilio to where Vladimir Vavilov and co were sitting at a table. ‘Because you're the favourite to win,' I thought to add. ‘Because you're the best player in the world. Number one. No-one can beat you, Emilio. You're awesome. And so handsome —'

‘Enough now!' said Teresa, laughing. ‘Emilio already has . . . how you say . . . big head.'

‘You were saying, Emily?'

‘Anyway,' I said, ‘let's go do whatever it is you need to do.'

‘Do you know, I think today will be
muy buena
. A very good day.'

‘That's the spirit!'

Teresa said, ‘Just look how much happier you are, my darling. Five minutes ago you were a mess.'

Emilio put his arms around me again. ‘It is Emily. She calms me.' He waved his hand. ‘Now, let us eat!