Love Game - Season 2011 (20 page)

“I said that one of them was having an affair with that Latino guy, Rafael. I think it’s Luella.”

Sasha was confused. So Luella liked guys, Sasha thought. Then Gabriella was the one reading
Tennis Nurse
? Or perhaps Luella was bi. Or there had to be something wrong in Sasha’s line of thoughts. Only a few weeks ago she had been certain that Luella was the one reading
Tennis Nurse
. Now Sasha wasn’t sure why she had come to this conclusion. She wished she could take out her notes and look them over again but she didn’t want to let Morgana in on her fact-finding.

“Are you sure?” she asked as casually as possible. “I heard that one of the sisters might like the fair sex, if you know what I mean.”

“
Mais qui
, I know the expression,” Morgana said munching her croissant. “And you are right. One of them always comes to me and borrows the
Tennis Nurse
novels.”

“Who?” Sasha leaned forward. She couldn’t believe she was so close to solving at least one of the mysteries surrounding the Galloway twins. What a grand idea to involve Morgana! It was true, the French player had a huge collection of the novel series and probably a lot of the gay girls came to her as she was known to be discreet and, moreover, not interested in other peoples’ love lives at all but only studied the books for intellectual reasons.

“I don’t know,” Morgana, however, said with a shrug. “They look so very much alike. And I never asked, who of them it was. Besides that, most of the girls who come to me like to keep it a secret anyway.”

Sasha slumped back in her seat. What a disappointment! She knew as much as before. It was unbelievable. How could Morgana be so incurious about other players’ lives. Before she could inquire further Morgana finished her croissant and looked up.

“Now, tell me more info about
Tennis Nurse
,
d’accord
?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. Damn that bloody pact.
Tennis Nurse
was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But she had no choice.

“I haven’t found out that much yet. I would need to get closer to Monica. Obviously, she’s the one who knows what it’s all about,” she slowly said.               “I don’t know who is behind this but as you said, it is probably one of us.”

“Must be someone older. The first novel was published in 1997,” Morgana said. “The analogies are easy to make but no one seems to care. It’s not like you can get the episodes in a book store, right?”

“No,” Sasha said. Suddenly she had to laugh. “I still remember that I had to send a mail order to that place in England to get the books. And you had to figure out where you’d be two weeks later so the books reached you at the right tournament. Today the girls just order the books over the internet. It’s almost boring.” She grinned thinking back only a few years to the clandestine operation of ordering a
Tennis Nurse
novel. Then Sasha looked up. With a loud bang Morgana had put down her fork.

“But that’s brilliant, Sasha. You are absolutely right. There must be a source for the novels,” the French player said opening her eyes wide. “Do you still have the address?” Surprised by the sudden eruption, Sasha shook her head.

“You must find it!” Morgana continued. “This is just brilliant. If we can locate the distributor, then we will find the author!”

***

There was one thing Tom would have never imagined witnessing when taking a quick snack at
Le Fournil
and that was what looked from afar like a chatty, happy lunch encounter between Sasha Mrachova and Morgana Doré. Since when were these two friends, spending time together off court? And since when did Sasha hang out at a fast food chain even if it was French fast food? The high-maintenance Czech looked completely out of place, but on second thought that was far from being surprising considering the last few weeks.

Something was going on with Sasha and ever since he had seen her following the Galloway twins back in Stuttgart, Tom had had come to the conclusion that she was up to something and he had begun to follow Sasha in order to find out what was going on. He also needed to find out what Sasha’s relationship with Jaro was all about. Since Rome Tom was convinced that these two were covering up for each other, and he had set his sights on revealing Sasha’s secret.

So far it had been easy. This morning Sasha had left her hotel and after talking on the phone had gone straight to Les Champs Elysées. Tom figured that the Czech would spend some money on fine clothes or jewelry but he had been wrong. All of a sudden, Morgana Doré had entered the scene and they had led him here.

Biting into a
chausson aux pommes
he had bought in order to pass for a regular customer, Tom tried to hide behind his laptop screen. He was too far away to understand the girls’ conversation so he concluded he could at least work on his blog
30 Love
which he had finally managed to set up. So many ideas were going through his head that he didn’t know where to start. After long consideration, he had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t use photos. He didn’t want to ruin the players’ lives. He also needed to make sure to protect each one of the players, so he had decided to keep the players’ identities a secret.

Tom took a sip of his peach-flavored tea and bent over the coffee table concentrating even more on his laptop screen. Of life and love on the tennis tour. Juicy details, mind-blowing scoops and yet an addicting anonymity that would push readers to wonder even more about whom he was talking. Tom nodded to himself and bit his lower lip in delight. It was time to launch
30 Love
. His blog would make history faster than Teddy’s awesome serve went over the net. There was so much information to post he didn’t even know where to start.

“Sasha and Morgana,” he mumbled looking up at the Czech who was still conversing with Morgana. “What are they up to?”

Perhaps he should invest in a wiretap and put it in Sasha’s racquet bag. That could make for interesting insights into what was going on in the girls’ locker rooms. Tom grinned to himself. But for the moment,
30 Love
was waiting for him just as a thousand readers were, eager to get themselves a fix of the latest tennis gossip.

***

Of course, her father had said yes. Elise would have said yes, too, in different circumstances. But this almost seemed like a conspiracy. There was absolutely no getting away from Amanda. Elise sighed. She had almost fallen off her chair in the breakfast room when her dad came in to bring the happy news.

“You will hit with Amanda,” he had announced. “I met Dan at the reception desk two minutes ago. Amanda was also looking for a hitting partner for the afternoon practice, so that was a really lucky coincidence.”

It was in fact great to practice with such a good player, Elise had to admit. However, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to even hit the ball into court once. The thought of spending time with Amanda made her feel nauseous.

But once they had started hitting the balls she felt secure. What could happen anyway with her dad and Dan Metic with them? No lips on cheeks this time. Instead she concentrated on the balls Amanda sent over and the impact they made on her racquet. Every player hit the ball differently and Amanda’s shots came with a heavy top-spin and full pace and Elise sent them back just as hard, over and over again. Once in a while Elise’s dad would have a quick word with her or Dan would talk to Amanda. But she herself didn’t need to talk to Amanda. They were just hitting balls, silently.

The monotonous repetition of shots relaxed Elise. It was good practice hitting with Amanda after all and it wasn’t Amanda’s fault that Elise liked her. She looked over the net at the Australian player. Elise adored her every move. Her flick of the wrist when hitting the forehand, the quick steps to get around her backhand, the service motion. Who was she to judge Amanda’s private life? What did she know about relationships anyway? Nothing. Nothing.

“I’ll get us a driver,” her father said after the practice. “I’ll wait for you at the Muskateers exit.”

Elise nodded packing her racquets and the towel into her bag, while her father left the court and headed to Court Philippe Chatrier where the players’ services were located. From the corner of her eye she saw Amanda sitting down on the chair on her side of the net. It would have been extremely impolite not to have a little chat. At least Elise had to walk back to the locker rooms with Amanda. She pulled the zipper of her bag shut and got up when suddenly Dan Metic was standing right beside her.

“Elise,” he smiled. “I was wondering if you would like to come over tomorrow and spend dinner with us. We’ll spoil you with an Australian delicacy, meaning lamb rack. Right, Amanda?” He turned around to his player. Amanda, however, just stood there tongue-tied with an uncomfortable grin, nodding. Elise couldn’t miss her uneasiness.

“That’s very nice of you, but I’m sure you have better things to do,” Elise answered, watching Amanda who had begun shuffling her feet. Dan was looking at Elise, then at Amanda. He turned to Elise again.

“No, I don’t think we have anything better to do. Do we, Amanda?”

This was strange, Elise thought. Why would Dan want her to come over for dinner when Amanda clearly didn’t? But Amanda had shouldered her tennis bag and made a step forward.

“Please come,” she said with a smile. “Dan really is a great cook. You’ll love it.”

“Great,” Dan said before Elise could say no again. “Now that this is settled we can call it a day.”               He said good-bye and left the two girls on the court. In silence, they headed for the locker room, each choosing a private corner where they got changed. Under the shower Elise held her breath. This really was a conspiracy. Why hadn’t she said no? Well, she knew why. There was nothing in the world she wanted as badly as spending an evening with Amanda Auster. Even if it meant Dan would be there, too, she realized. Hopefully, no one else. What would she do if Natsumi was going to be there? Elise heard Amanda step outside the shower and brushed the thought of Natsumi away. She quickly left the shower and got dressed. Amanda was already heading for the door.

“Amanda, wait,” Elise shouted after her.

She grabbed the little plastic pouch from her racquet bag and approached the Australian.

“I got you something from Prague,” she mumbled, presenting the blue bracelet. Amanda smiled in surprise. She took the bracelet, inspecting it carefully. Her silence made Elise nervous. “I thought the color would suit you. Blue. Just like your eyes,” she stammered.

“It’s really beautiful, Elise. Thank you,” Amanda finally said. She reached out her right arm. “Can you put it on?”

Elise felt her heart skip a beat. Amanda liked it. She really did. Delighted, Elise tied a little knot on the braided band.

“Hopefully, it will bring you luck tomorrow against Ivana.”

***

Today she would be Luella Galloway. Today she would be sexy, confident and charming and today she would also be loud-mouthed, shameless and a bit obscene. There were harder tasks, for sure, Gabriella tried to convince herself, when she was sitting in the tournament cab that took her to the Roland Garros site.

She had played the part so often by now that she had gotten used to it. However, it still didn’t feel natural to behave like her sister did. She wondered if Lulu was able to keep quiet and polite like Gabriella or if it was just as hard for Luella to pretend to be her twin as it was for Gaga? Luella had to make it work, too, when she interacted with other players if their masquerade wasn’t to be exposed. Gabriella assumed that her sister would just say nothing when she was in the locker room with someone else and pretending to be Gaga. That wouldn’t look too absurd from the other players’ point of view. Gabriella was known to be a shy one.

The car arrived and the driver wished her good luck in the match against Sasha Mrachova. Gabriella nodded absentmindedly. She thought of the task that lay ahead of her. She could do it, she told herself. She could actually do it. Luella did it all the time and Gaga had watched her often enough. But when she got out of the car, the massive building of Court Philippe Chatrier towered over her and she suddenly felt insecure.

For the next three hours she waited for her match in the players’ restaurant, trying to focus.

”It can’t be that hard,” she mumbled to herself.

When the men’s match scheduled before her went into the final set, she got up and shouldered her racquet bag. Today she would be Luella Galloway. Sexy, confident, charming and a bit obscene. Maybe a bit. Gabriella breathed in deeply. She walked through the corridor towards the locker room, nodding to people who crossed her path. No smile, she reminded herself. Confidence, badass attitude and charm. That’s right. Repeating it like a mantra she pushed open the locker room door. Confidence, badass attitude and – Sasha.

Gaga stopped dead in her tracks and swallowed down the panic that crept up her throat when she laid eyes on the Czech player. That girl had a perfect lean body and she just struggled pulling her shirt over her head. Blinded by the battle with her shirt, Sasha couldn’t see who had come in. Gaga felt paralyzed but she knew it was now or never. This was her chance. Confidence. She approached Sasha. Badass attitude. She leaned against the locker next to Sasha. Charm. Here we go.

“You need help,” Gabriella purred.

Sasha winced in surprise, finally pulling the shirt over her head. She gasped to find the Galloway standing so close to her.

“Luella,” she said coolly. “Thank you very much, but your help is not needed.”

“It certainly looked like it. I was just about to give you a hand,” Gabriella said stretching the last word. She winked at Sasha and smiled. Was that enough fervor? Was that enough charm? Gaga had no idea, but it must have been enough badass attitude as it left Sasha open-mouthed and speechless for a moment. Gabriella knew she had to continue if she was ever to find out what was going on with Sasha. Unashamedly and slowly she looked the Czech player over from head to toe. Sasha frowned and began to quickly change into her match outfit.