The Slam (3 page)

The last thirty-eight grand slam finals had all featured at least one member of the Big Four—Fed, Rafa, Djoko, and Murray. Earlier this summer, the odds on Nishikori or Cilic winning the title was 250/1. Yet here they were, playing at the finals.

“You know what, brotha?” Edric remarked. “That could’ve easily been us. Easily.”

“Don’t remind me.” I frowned, keeping my eyes glued to the screen. “Now shut the hell up so I can watch the match.”

By the middle of the second set, the match was essentially over. Cilic had completely crushed his opponent. I reached for my phone and called Camille.

She answered on the third ring. “Ender! Please tell me you have Adelaide.”

“Grandmother, please tell me why you didn’t just email her itinerary and let me know she was gonna be staying with us? Better yet, why didn’t you just pick up the phone and call me?”

“Ender, please don’t use that word.” And by ‘word’ I knew she meant ‘grandmother.’ “I really don’t like it,” she said. “It has so many connotations of old age and decrepitude.”

“To me it has so many connotations of fun, love, and warmth.”

“Ah, there you go buttering me up, young man.” She chuckled. “And I didn’t call to let you know because I didn’t want to give you a chance to say no.”

Typical. There was a fine line between getting people to agree and tricking them into agreeing with your wishes, and Camille had always toed that line. And if that didn’t work, she’d nag a person into a yes or strong-arm them until they saw things differently.

There was no point in arguing with my grandmother. “How are you doing, Camille?”

“I’m fantastic. All this modern medicine is keeping me alive and healthy, and I’m spending away any chance of you and Edric having a decent inheritance. Hah!”

I smiled. “Are you ever going to come back to the states? Or is Australia your permanent home now?”

“Oh, I love it here, Ender. The people here took an arid rock and turned it into an island paradise.”

“Really,” I said flatly. “I always thought Australians lived in two or three cities on an otherwise uninhabitable wasteland. Enjoy the giant-ass spiders and venomous snakes in the desert of death.”

“Don’t be silly, Ender!” she chided. “You boys used to love it out in the bush! You and Adelaide—the two of you would spend hours in that desert of death, messing around with all those snakes and spiders. I’m surprised either of you made it to adulthood.”

“I know.” I laughed. “We did. I’m just joshin’ witcha.”

“Now tell me,” she said in a serious tone. “How is my darling Adelaide?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” I said, getting to my feet.

Jogging down the hallway, I knocked lightly on her door. “Adelaide?”

There was no answer.

Turning the knob, I peered inside and found her fast asleep. Quietly, I shut the door and stalked back to the living room. “Sorry, Camille. She’s already hit the sack. Why don’t I call you again tomorrow and you can talk to her?”

“Ender, the girl needs her own phone. Do me a favor and take her to the AT&T store. Get her set up with an iPhone.”

“Sure,” I said easily.

“Good,” she said. “Good. Good. Now tell me, what have you boys been up to?”

“The usual,” I replied. “Got a tournament next week.”

“Edric, too?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet Adelaide could break you on the tennis court.”

I smirked. “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh, yes she can! She’s very athletic, you know. That girl’s been playing competitive tennis for eight years; she was the number one singles player on her high school varsity team.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What about volleyball?”

“What
about
volleyball?” Camille asked.

“Is she a beach volleyball player?”

“No.” Camille sounded confused. “Why?”

“Never mind,” I said, closing my eyes. “Forget I asked.”

There goes my fantasy
.

“Well,” Camille said thoughtfully. “Adelaide has excellent ball-handling skills and she doesn’t mind being on her knees. She owns a pair of kneepads and she loves to get sweaty, so I’m sure she’d be great at beach volleyball.”

I pressed my fingers against my eyes, suppressing a grin. Camille didn’t even know she was dropping sexual innuendos left, right, and center.

“Adelaide’s great at everything she applies herself to—sports, studies, you name it!” she went on. “That girl pushes herself a lot. With her, it’s all or nothing. She has a strong will and a limitless determination to achieve what she sets her mind on. And when she sets her mind on tennis, you better watch out.”

“Interesting,” I said. “I didn’t know she played tennis.”

“You didn’t?”

“Camille,” I said dryly. “It’s been ten years since I’ve seen her, and back then she didn’t play any tennis. What else can you tell me about her?”

“Well…” she hedged. “I know she lacks self-awareness and she can be too honest at times, almost to a fault, but try and understand that with Adelaide, getting things right isn’t about being right all the time or being a know-it-all. It’s more about having things as they should be.”

“Is that because of her… erm, condition?”

“It’s her black-and-white thinking. Her brain’s just wired differently than us neurotypicals. She takes mostly everything at face value.”

“Neurotypicals?”

“Or NT for short. That’s how Adelaide relates to you in her mind. It’s what Aspies call normal people.”

“Are you sure you don’t have Asperger’s?” I said in a teasing voice. “You’re not exactly normal, Camille.”

She laughed. “What’s normal anyway? That’s just a setting on my washing machine. Totally mundane if you ask me!”

“You and Jeff practically raised Adelaide.” I weighed my words before continuing. “Was it ever a challenge? I knew a guy in high school with Asperger’s and he—”

“Enderson James Hemsworth,” she cut me off. Camille only used my full name when I was in trouble. “If you’ve met one person with Asperger’s, then you’ve met
one
person with Asperger’s. They’re all different in their own ways.”

Okay. But Camille hadn’t exactly answered my question. Before I could press her further, she said, “I’ve gotta go, love. I have to pick up some lunch from Maccas soon. And then Vickie and I are going to sit around the bush telly and sip some wine.”

I frowned. “A bush TV?”

“A campfire,” she answered. “Send my love to Edricson. You brothers be good to each other. And be nice to Adelaide.”
Click
. The line went dead.

Chapter Two

ENDER

When I got back from the store the next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find Natasha and Edric in the middle of a heated argument.

“How come she gets to stay here, huh?” Natasha was glaring at him like she wanted to gut him like a fish. “Why her and not me?”

“I’m not dating her, okay.” Edric blew out a frustrated sigh. “She’s a long time friend of the family.”

Crossing her arms, Natasha gave him the side-eye. “How do I know you’re not full of shit?”

Edric mimicked her actions, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re the one who turns every discussion into a giant shit fest. If you don’t believe me, ask Ender.”

Natasha whirled around to face me.

Now she was giving
me
the side-eye.

Natasha was the queen of side-eye.

Setting the bagels on the kitchen counter, I said flatly, “She’s a long time friend of the family.”

“Thank you!” Edric said forcefully. “Now can we move on? Please.”

“Nope,” Natasha snapped. “I’m not done yet!”

“Good God, woman.” Edric drew a long breath. “Let the butt hurt flow through you! And you know what? I don’t even know what you’re so butt hurt about!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha demanded.

Edric gave a weary sigh. “Tell you what?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was gonna be staying here?”

“How else can I explain this to you?” Edric cut his gaze to the ceiling. “I didn’t know. For the hundredth time—I only found out last night!”

Adelaide chose that moment to breeze into the carnage. “Hellooooo!” she chirped. “Good morning, everyone!”

Natasha gave her an epic side-eye.

Adelaide attempted to return the side-eye, but she ended up looking like Quasimodo.

The best part of it all was Adelaide’s zero fucks bemusement at the dramatics. She simply pulled out a chair, sat down, and helped herself to a bagel.

“Who got the bagels?” she asked.

“I did.”

“Thanks, Ender,” she said brightly. “Is there coffee too?”

“There’s a fresh pot on the counter. Help yourself.”

“Okay,” she said, looking around. “Isn’t anyone else going to eat?” She leveled a cool gaze at Natasha. “Hi, there.” She smiled sweetly. “Would you like a bagel?”

Edric made the swift introductions. “Natasha, this is Adelaide. And Adelaide, meet my girlfriend, Natasha.”

“Hi,” Natasha said acidly.

“Bagel for you?” Adelaide repeated.

Natasha dismissed her words with a flick of her ring-laden fingers. “No bagel for me. Thanks for the offer, but I’m on the Paleo diet.”

“You are?” Adelaide’s entire face lit up. “Oh, how fascinating! Paleontology—that’s what I plan to major in!” Propping her elbows on the counter, she studied Natasha with curious eyes. “So tell me, do you eat insect larvae, lizards, beetles, frogs, ferns, and cattails?”

Natasha’s jaw slackened. “Of course not! I only eat food that could have been hunted and gathered by cavemen. Which means I eat meat, fish, and vegetables.
Lots of vegetables and…” She turned her nose up at the bagels. “I avoid gluten at all costs!”

“But,” Adelaide countered. “Most vegetables today didn’t exist in the Paleolithic era. As with our modern eating habits, diets in the Paleolithic era would have varied widely according to location. Groups who settled in desert locales would have had no access to fish and probably had little meat to eat. They mainly ate small game like mice and rats, even frogs and insects.” She took a bite of her bagel and added, “As for gluten, there is archeological evidence that prehistoric man ate proto-wheat and barley, quantities of cereal grains, and high numbers of grass seeds as well.”

“And?” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Your point?”

“Eat what works for you, that’s fine,” Adelaide said not unkindly. Getting to her feet, she poured herself a cup of coffee. “But I wouldn’t go around saying it’s because of what our Paleo ancestors ate, unless you know what they actually ate.”

“It’s healthier!” Natasha said self-importantly. “And it helps me maintain my figure.”

“Well,” Adelaide said thoughtfully. “It’s difficult to prove that prehistoric man was somehow healthier than his modern counterparts. After all, most children died before the age of fifteen, and only rarely did adults reach past forty. And a recent study revealed alarmingly high rates of atherosclerosis, or hardened arteries in ancient mummies, casting doubt on the theory that our forbearers had much healthier lives than we do now.”

Natasha stood there, speechless, staring at Adelaide as though she’d just sprouted a third head.

“Oh! How rude of me!” Adelaide held up the coffee pot and said, “Would anyone like some coffee?”

“I’d like some,” I said.

“Me, too!” Edric chimed in.

“I only drink water,” Natasha informed her. “The caveman diet did not consist of coffee.”

“You’re right. Of course it didn’t.” Adelaide poured two cups of coffee. “Our Paleo ancestors drank river water and lake water.” A pause. “Hmm. I see what you mean now…”

“What?” Natasha hissed, agitation creeping into her voice. “What I mean about what?”

Calmly, I reached for my cup of coffee and took a sip, curious what Adelaide was about to say next.

“About maintaining your figure,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Giardia is
great
for weight loss! The microscopic parasites work almost as well as tapeworms. Not to mention, dehydration from diarrhea is totally natural!”

I choked, coughed, and coffee sputtered out of my mouth.

A look of horror came across Natasha’s face. Staring open-mouthed, she sent me a look that said,
Why is she still talking?!? Why?

Blissfully unaware of Natasha’s wrath, Adelaide happily chatted away. “I think the biggest mistake the Paleo diet has ever made is calling itself Paleo.”

“Yesssssss!” Edric pumped his fist in the air. “I agree! I pick out food based on a simple philosophy—if it doesn’t have any nutritional value, I don’t eat it. And guess what, people? It results in a diet that’s similar to the Paleo diet… meat, fruits, veggies, and minimal carbs. Five years ago, that was just called eating healthy. Now I get lumped in with all these assholes.” He chuckled.

His laughter began to peter out when he realized his girlfriend was sending him daggers. “Asshole?” Natasha muttered mutinously. “Did you just call me an asshole just because I’m on the Paleo diet?”

I drained my cup of coffee and swiped my car keys off the counter. “Adelaide,” I said shortly. “Time to go.”

Crossing the room, she grabbed her backpack and looked over her shoulder, entirely oblivious to the tension she’d just ignited. “Bye, Edric! Bye, Natasha!” she trilled cheerfully. “It was
so
nice to meet you!”

The alarm chirped as I pushed the button on the key fob, indicating that the doors had unlocked. I walked around the car and got behind the wheel. “Sorry,” I said unapologetically. “I know you like to be the one behind the wheel, but I’m driving.”

Adelaide’s smile faltered. “So last night… you were just being nice?”

“Last night was just a one-off.”

“Oh.” She looked so disappointed that I
almost
felt a little bad. Almost, but not enough to surrender my keys. “So,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat. “What can you tell me about freshman orientation?”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“How so?”

“Your orientation leader will subject you to activities otherwise meant for four-year olds. You end up sitting around in a circle singing Kumbaya with a group of people you’d never hang out with. Basically, it’s a whole day of doing shit you’ll never do again.”
I
slid the key into the ignition and shot her a quick sideways glance. “You still wanna go?”

“Yes.” She clicked her seat belt into place. “I have to get all the logistics stuff taken care of—getting my student ID card, creating a school email and username, registering for classes.”

Revving up the engine, I looked over my right shoulder and backed up. “You can do all that and still skip your orientation.”

“I’d still like to go.” She adjusted her seat belt, making sure that the shoulder belt fell between her breasts. “It’ll be a good opportunity for me to meet new people.”

I noticed her nice rack. “Suit yourself. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Roger that.”

“Adelaide,” I said as we coasted down the freeway. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“No one cares if you’re majoring in History and thinking of switching to Government.”

“But I’m majoring in Paleontology and Theater.”

“Doesn’t matter. Most people could give two fucks about what you’re majoring in.” Not exactly subtle, I thought, but distinct. Just to be sure she got the message, I said, “Got that?”

She gave a crisp nod. “Loud and clear.”