Grand Slam (14 page)

It was getting late – eight thirty – surely bedtime for a woman my age. Jack said he'd go. Charlotte said she'd go. I stood at the door.

‘Where's your car?' I asked Charlotte.

She pointed. ‘Just up the road a bit.'

I watched Jack get into his car, making sure Charlotte didn't slip into his and do something. Mind you, if she did slip into Jack's car and do something, I was sure he'd kick her out. Very politely, of course.

I said to Mum, ‘Thanks for having Charlotte at the last minute.'

‘Oh, nothing phrases me.' She was in front of the television, knitting in hand.

Yeah, nothing
fazes
you, Mum, except everything to do with me. ‘Okay, well, goodnight.'

‘Goodnight, dear.'

‘Night, Dad.'

Grunt.

I stopped at the lounge-room door. ‘Mum, do you see much of Mrs Booth?'

‘A bit.'

‘I know you don't like her.'

‘Oh, she's perfectly nice! I think she's seen the light.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘She's been coming to church.'

‘You're joking.'

Mum looked at me like she didn't understand what I meant, which she possibly didn't. Mum doesn't make jokes. She doesn't believe in laughing. She thinks it's disrespectful to God or something. But Mrs Booth in a Catholic church?

‘I always thought she was a bit creepy.'

‘That's not very nice of you, dear.'

No. I suppose it's not. Maybe I should make an effort to be nicer. ‘I might come to church with you this Sunday.'

‘Confession?' She looked hopeful.

‘I don't need to confess.'

I thought for a moment Mum
was
going to laugh. Her mouth curved into the tiniest smile but quickly resumed its usual pursed state.

As I was changing into my pyjamas, my mobile rang. I didn't recognise the number, except that it had the same first digits as my work number. I answered. It was John Degraves, calling from his office. JD had never called me from his office. If it wasn't Team business, for which he used a secret shoe phone or something, he always had his PA call me.

‘This is a disaster. I need you to go see Emilio, fix this.'

‘What, now?'

‘Yes. Right now. He's threatening to pull out of the tournament.'

‘No
way
.' But he'd hung up. I called Teresa, who sounded like she'd rather be diving off oil rigs in a cyclone.

‘Do you want me to come see Emilio?' Please say no. Please say everything's fine, that he'll get over it.

‘I'm not sure it would help. He may never recover from this loss.'

‘Loss? But it's just a —'

‘You do not understand.'

‘Well, if you think my coming won't help —'

‘In fact, it is probably a good idea. We must try everything. I will meet you in Emilio's room.'

When I got to the hotel, Teresa opened the door to Emilio's darkened suite and ushered me in.

‘He is in bed.' She put her finger to her lips.

‘Asleep? I can come back tom—'

‘No, not sleeping. He just lies there.'

Oh boy.

‘Come.' She led the way.

Emilio lay on his side, staring at nothing, with the covers pulled up to his chin. The bedside lamp was on and I could see his face. He'd been crying.

I sat gently, placed a hand on his arm, whispered, ‘Emilio? It's me. Eri— Emily.'

He didn't move or acknowledge me.

‘Come now, you must be brave.' Oh geez, did I really say that?
Come now.
In fact, I wanted to shake him, slap his face, tell him to get over himself and play the goddam tournament and win the bloody thing so I could get back to my life.

‘Emilio, you're the best player in the world. You can win this tournament. You can!'

He turned his head slowly and looked at me, emotionless, which was better than hateful. ‘You do not understand.' He looked away.

‘I
do
understand. I understand you're very upset by what happened, and I'm truly sorry about that but I couldn't help it! The man had a gun and he was stronger than me.' I played the sympathy card, with a slight whimper. ‘I could have been killed, you know.'

‘I know. I know it is not your fault.'

‘Thank you, Emilio. Thank you for understanding. But now, you and I have a job to do. We have a tournament to win!'

He shook his head.

‘I promise you —' What? ‘I promise that together we can do it. Emilio and Emily. We're a team!'

He turned and pulled the covers over his head.

Emilio stayed like that for two hours. I sat by his side, gave him a pat, a little shake. I lay next to him, behind him, put my arm around him. ‘Please, Emilio.'

Teresa ordered herbal tea. I stared out the window, at the night sky, seeking inspiration from God, the one who'd been so helpful earlier today. I checked the time. I needed sleep!

I took a sip of tea, thinking it might taste better during a crisis. It didn't. ‘Maybe he'll be better in the morning.'

‘Oh, no, he will not. If anything, he will be worse.' Her lower lip trembled. ‘We could pray —'

‘Yes! Let's pray.'

‘— but I am afraid tomorrow morning we will make the announcement.'

‘What announcement?'

‘That Emilio Méndez will not play in the Australian Open tennis tournament this year.'

‘What?' I gripped Teresa's arm. ‘You can't. You can't let this happen!'

‘Oh, but it has happened. And it was not
I
who made it happen.' She gave me a long, angry look.

I went into Emilio's bedroom. He hadn't moved, but I knew by the loud sighing that he wasn't asleep. I sat again by his side and leaned over him.

‘Emilio.' I gave him a little pat. ‘Emilio, guess what?'

From under the covers came his muffled voice. ‘
Que
?'

‘I've spoken with God.' Oh, God help me.

The covers slid down to his chin and he blinked up at me. ‘What did he say?'

‘He said . . . he said he's going to help me find your lucky charm.'

‘He cannot find it.'

‘Yes, he can! Together we can. God and Emily. We can't fail!' Emilio sat up. I gripped his shoulders. ‘Emilio, trust me. Trust that I will do this. For you.'

He stared into my eyes, seeking the truth in the crap I was talking.

I continued with the crap. ‘God and Emilio and Emily. Together we are unbeatable, yes?'

‘
Si . . .
'

‘Yes! I will find your lucky charm. I promise. With the Good Lord's help, I will do it.'

‘You will find
mi amuleto
?'

‘Yes. Yes, I will.'

Yes. Yes, I will go to hell.

Good one, Erica. Brilliant.

After that ridiculous offering, Emilio looked me right in the eye — his face so earnest and beautiful — and I'd nodded enthusiastically, putting a stamp on the deal. The promise.

This was followed by hugging. Emilio had leaped from the bed, wearing only undies, and held me tight against him, whispering Spanish into my ear and following it up with a translation: ‘I know now you are completely devoted to me and will do anything to find
mi amuleto
and help me win this tournament. Anything at all, isn't that right?' And he'd held me at arm's length so he could see my face when I'd said yes, anything. I'd then suggested he focus on his tennis and try not to think about the amulet.

‘Ah, but it is always on my mind.'

‘But you'll play tennis won't you? Until I find it? I mean, I might not be able to get it right away. You know, I have to track down the . . . robbers.'

‘
Si
, Emily, but you have made the promise, and until that wonderful moment when I hold it again in my hand . . .' Emilio had then turned to Teresa, who was standing by the door, crying quietly, clutching her rosary beads. ‘Your precious boy is back, Mother Teresa! Let us celebrate with herbal tea!'

On the way home, I called Jack on his mobile. It was now almost midnight and I didn't care if he was asleep. I didn't care if I woke everyone. I especially didn't care if I woke Sharon Stone, who, if she was in her own bed asleep, shouldn't be anywhere near Jack's mobile phone anyway. He answered, and I could hear the telly in the background.

‘Can't sleep?' he said.

‘Don't suppose you could help me find Emilio's lucky charm.'

‘Where are you?'

‘On my way home. JD called me, wanted me to go see Emilio.'

‘Why?'

‘Because after the bloody thing got stolen, Emilio turned into a baby. But he's fine now because I promised him the universe. And more.'

‘I think there's a word for that, Erica.'

‘I didn't promise
that
.' Did I? ‘There's something else.'

‘Uh-oh.'

I told him about the real lucky charm. The one I left in the supermarket trolley. I told him about going to Chadstone to get another one. ‘It cost two hundred dollars.'

He was silent.

‘So the guys who stole the lucky charm have got a fake one,' I said. More silence. ‘What are you thinking?'

‘My mind's empty of anything useful. Never in my life have I had to consider a scenario like this.'

‘Well, I was thinking, it's kind of a lucky break for me, isn't it? I mean, I can just pretend the real one got stolen.'

‘You're digging a hole for yourself. You do know that.'

‘What can possibly go wrong?'

‘Why don't you just go back to Chadstone and get another?'

‘Oh my God! Why didn't I think of that? But no, that's stupid. Emilio will want to see it and he'll know straight away.'

‘That's true.'

‘I think his is a family heirloom. I need to get it back from the supermarket trolley.'

‘Come to my place.'

‘What, now?'

‘Yes, you need a good spanking.'

I gave a little shiver. ‘Maybe . . . no, I'm too tired. I've got so much to do. I probably should just go to work right now and stay there all night.' I blew out my breath, thinking about how much I could get done if I was a vampire like Rosalind and didn't need sleep. It would mean I could go to Jack's. ‘Do you think the police will try to find Emilio's fake lucky charm?'

‘No.'

‘Good. Will you help me find the real one?'

‘No.'

‘Thanks a bunch.'

‘You're welcome.'

‘Will you at least come to church with me? Help me make amends with God?'

He let out a laugh. ‘You're on your own with that one, babe.'

Babe. Funny how a single word uttered by the right person can cause one's heart and stomach to switch places. Mind you, the thought of being put over Jack's knee didn't hurt, either.

Steve called me at nine the next morning, Saturday, waking me up.

‘Have you finished my renovation?' I said.

‘Have you been appliance shopping?'

‘Oh. Um, I'm doing it now.'

‘Now?'

‘Yep. On the way to The Good Guys. As we speak.'

‘I don't believe you.'

‘It's true!'

‘You're still in bed.'

‘I am not!'

‘I
know
you're still in bed.'

‘
How
do you know, smarty pants?'

‘Because I'm sitting in your mother's kitchen.'

‘Bloody hell,' I grumbled and hung up. I wandered out in my pyjamas. Mum was dressed, face fully made up, hair perfect. She slid a plate of scones across the bench to Steve, who sat on a stool, grinning at me.

‘Morning.'

‘Hi.' I put the kettle on.

Mum huffed, gave me a disapproving glare that translated to: you should have been up hours ago, cooking or sewing, doing things for men.

‘I've known you all your life,' said Steve. ‘You wouldn't get out of bed for Santa when we were kids.'

‘Is that why you're here? To force me to go buy appliances?'

‘Yep. I'm going with you.'

‘But I need to go into work.' I shuddered at the thought of everything that needed doing. The tennis was starting on Monday. Emilio's first match was Tuesday. I needed to visit Mrs Booth.

‘Let me just say this.' Steve's eyes held mine to make sure I was listening. ‘The longer it takes you to buy your appliances, the longer the reno will take, and the longer it'll be before —'

‘Okay, okay, I get it.' The longer it'll be before I can move out of my mother's. Suddenly, nothing mattered more than buying my appliances. I wondered if I could just go in my PJs.

Mum said, as she carried Dad's coffee and scones to his throne in the lounge room, ‘Remember that poor Stephen is doing you a big favour, Erica.'

I made a face at
poor
Stephen behind Mum's back, just like I used to do twenty years ago, and he gave me a snarky smile, just like he used to do twenty years ago, sitting in the same spot at Mum's kitchen bench.

‘It's not a favour, Mum. I'm paying him.' I poked my tongue at Steve.

‘Come on,' he said. ‘Get dressed.'

‘Do you remember Mrs Booth?' I asked him.

‘Of course.'

‘Do you think she's still a witch?'

Steve burst out laughing. ‘Of course not.'

‘I reckon she is.'

‘She's probably really nice. Like her daughter. She saw me in Richmond and said hello.'

‘Really? You saw Ruth?'

‘Yep. She's nice.'

My mobile rang in my bedroom. ‘Hold on.' I ran to get it. I didn't know the number so didn't answer, but returned to the kitchen with it. One minute later, the doorbell rang. I heard Dad grunt as he lifted himself from his chair in the lounge room.

‘Who on earth could that be?' said Mum, bustling about. ‘Maybe the Jehovah's Witnesses. Well, they can just turn right around and visit next door as far as I'm concerned.' She looked at Steve. ‘The good Lord and I are already on excellent terms.'

‘You're an angel, Mrs J.'

I heard the front door open, and a loud, familiar voice said, ‘
Hola,
padre de Emily
!'

Oh, Jesus. Emilio appeared at the kitchen door with a huge smile and arms spread wide, looking around the room. He took in the sight of me in my PJs, walked up and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. What happened to all the misery? The little boy curled up in bed, crying?

‘Goodness gracious groceries!' said Mum.

‘This is
madre, si
?' Emilio took Mum's hand and kissed it, bowing low, saying something in Spanish. Mum clutched her other hand to her throat, as if protecting it from a vampire strike.

Emilio turned to Steve, who looked as entertained as I'd ever seen him.

‘And, Emily, this must be your brother.'

Yeah, sure, brother. Why not? Steve stood and Emilio shook his hand vigorously.

‘You're Emilio Méndez.'

‘Yes, my friend! You would like my autograph?'

‘Sure.'

While signing one of Mum's pink paper napkins, Emilio told Steve that yes, indeed, he planned on winning the tennis and earning another however-many millions through sponsorship. And just as soon as Emily found his
amuleto
, his life would be perfect. I looked at Mum, hand still at her throat, staring like it was Dracula, not a tennis player, standing in her kitchen. Poor Mum. My phone rang in my hand. It was Jack. I jogged down the passage to my bedroom, answering as I went.

‘Hi!' I hoped he couldn't hear the loud Spanish in the kitchen.

‘Good morning. Why is there a stretch limo in front of your house?'

What?

‘Please don't say it's who I think it is.'

I flicked my pink curtains aside and pulled apart the venetians. Jack's Audi was parked opposite Emilio's limousine, which was as long as my parent's property was wide.

‘Is that you sitting out there?'

‘Yep.'

‘What are you doing here?'

‘I . . . I was passing. Need a few things at Chadstone.'

‘You wouldn't be caught dead at Chadstone Shopping Centre.'

‘Is the kettle on?'

‘Why? Do you want to come in?'

‘I've got something for your mother.'

‘What is it?'

‘Erica —'

‘I don't think you should come in.'

‘Is someone there I'll want to hurt?' He was getting out of his car.

‘All right, come in, but you'd better leave your gun in the car.'

Too late to change out of my jarmies. I was worried about Mum in the kitchen, having heart failure. I headed for the front door, waving to Dad, watching telly in the lounge room. ‘Stay there, Dad. It's safer.' Or maybe he should call the police. Just in case. I could hear Emilio talking loudly, telling Mum and Steve about his devastating loss but how fortunately Emily had vowed to devote her life to helping him in every possible way.

I opened the door as Jack stepped up to it, looking beautiful. About as opposite to the way I looked as anyone possibly could. As Emilio's voice came closer, Jack stopped moving and adopted his the-enemy's-closing-in expression. And then, Emilio was standing behind me.

‘Ah,
amigo
!
Cómo estás
?'

Without smiling, Jack said something in Spanish and Emilio laughed.

‘I thought you didn't speak Spanish,' I said.

Jack ignored that and stood there watching Emilio with narrowed eyes while Emilio grinned at him.

Emilio turned to me. ‘Come,
querida
, we have things to do.'

‘What? Where?'

‘Chadstone Shopping Centre. The shopping capital of all Australia.'

‘You're going to Chaddy?'

‘Yes,
ángel
, with you. I want to see everything!'

‘Um, I have to go to church.'

‘On Saturday morning? Surely not.'

‘It's confession day.'

‘It is a good idea to confess about
mi amuleto
. But tomorrow, Emily. Today, Chadstone Shopping Centre.'

‘But don't you have to play tennis or something? Do some training?'

‘I thought you might like lunch at a winery,' Jack piped up.

My head snapped around and I stared at Jack. ‘You want to take me to a winery?'

‘I am not interested in visiting a winery,' said Emilio.

And before Jack could inform Emilio that he wasn't invited, Mum arrived. ‘Jack! Praise the Lord! Thank goodness you're here.' She ushered him in, pushing past Emilio to make room for her darling. Mum muttered to Jack conspiratorially, as though Emilio and I were out of earshot, ‘I just don't know what to make of this business. Italian men coming to the door like that. What on earth he wants with Erica, I'll never know.'

Then Jack and Steve were talking in the kitchen. Mum was probably jamming up some scones for them. There was kettle noise. Laughing. I wanted to be in there too. In the kitchen with Jack and Steve, laughing, having cups of tea and scones.

‘Come, Emily. Go change!'

‘Emilio, I'm really sorry but —'

My phone rang. I was still holding it. It was JD. I glanced outside, in case he was sitting in his car.

‘Hello?'

‘Good morning, Erica.'

‘Hi, Mr Degraves.'

Emilio was watching me, smiling his winning smile.
I will get my way with you, no matter what. No matter how much you don't want to go shopping at Chadstone, the greatest shopping centre in the southern hemisphere, you have no choice but to go because I want it. And then you will find my precious amuleto.

‘I had a call from Emilio —'

‘I know. He wants me to go shopping.'

‘Ah, you're on top of that. Very good, Erica. You know how important this is.'

‘I know, Mr Degraves.'

‘Good work lifting his spirits, by the way. I don't know how you managed it but . . . good work.' He hung up.

I managed it by prostituting myself, that's how.

‘Emilio, you don't want to go to Chadstone.'

‘Yes, I do. I want to go there. I want to see it.'

‘But why? You'll hate it.'
I'll
hate it. ‘There'll be millions of people all pushing and shoving and long queues —'

‘Ah, heaven for me!'

Sigh. How to get out of it? I needed to go to work. I needed to get appliances. I needed time with Jack. I needed to make Emilio happy so he'd win the Australian Open and Rosalind could have her promotion and bugger off and the world would stop hating me. And that was it. My number one.