Love Game - Season 2012 (26 page)

Snuggling closer to Sasha, Gabriella let
her lips run over the Czech’s stomach, pushed her arms over her head and kissed
her bare breasts – until she was at eye level with Sasha. With her closed eyes,
midst the calm of the falling night, Sasha looked like a sleeping princess in a
secret garden. Gently Gabriella stroked her brown hair, still wet from their
swim in the pool. Leaning forward she kissed Sasha on the tip of her nose.

Sasha flinched. As if woken from a dream
she opened her eyes, blinked a little then covered her nose with her hand.
Gabriella propped herself up on her arms, alarmed by the subconscious gesture.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked anxiously.
Sasha blinked again, realizing that she was holding her nose. She quickly let
her hand sink down.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, it doesn’t
hurt. It’s just – .”

She stopped and looked into Gabriella’s
eyes. For a split second, the frailty and insecurity that was lying beneath
Sasha’s perfectly cool aura flashed up, like the reflections on the dark pool
water.

“It’s just that I felt so incomplete
sometimes,” she whispered. She was telling a secret. “As if someone took away
my magic shield, you see?”

Anger rushed through the Gabriella’s body.
Damn you, Lulu, she thought. Why did her stupid sister have to touch Sasha?

“I’m so, so sorry about your nose,” she
replied, stroking Sasha’s head and realizing at the same moment that Sasha
would misunderstand her words. She, of course, would believe that it was Luella
apologizing for her misbehavior in Istanbul.

“Oh, Lu,” Sasha said quietly and put her
arms around Gabriella. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Please, don’t worry.
Everything is fine.”

Gabriella swallowed. That was exactly what
she didn’t want to achieve, Sasha feeling sympathy for Luella who had done this
to her. She looked at Sasha, unable to say the words that were racing through
her mind.

I was so angry with Lulu. and felt so bad
leaving you on the floor. I thought about you for days and days. I got so angry
because you never saw me. You only saw Lulu. It felt terrible leaving you on
the floor. But then again I thought it would serve you right to get hurt
because you only ever saw Lulu.

Sasha was still looking at her.

“Sasha,” Gabriella started. “I need to tell
you something. It’s important.”

She hesitated. How to explain to Sasha that
she had lied to her for months and months? And why? Because she wanted what
belonged to Lulu. How sad and desperate was that? Sasha had to play a difficult
match on Monday. She mustn’t upset her and cause the Czech to lose in one of
her favorite tournaments. She couldn’t do it. Not now.

“But I think I will wait until after Wimbledon,”
she added quickly. “It’s a bit complicated.”

“Is it?” Sasha smiled at Gabriella and
squeezed her shoulders lightly. “Some things aren’t that easy to say, are
they?”

Sasha didn’t seem curious at all. She gave
the impression she knew what Gabriella wanted to say. Gabriella nodded,
slightly confused but glad the Czech didn’t inquire. However, there was one
thing she had to say now. She couldn’t wait.

“I think you’re beautiful, inside and
outside,” she beamed, wondering if it was the right thing to say to someone who
had to deal with the aftermath of a broken nose. But when Sasha pulled her
closer and gave her a long kiss, she knew she had chosen her words perfectly.

***

Darkness had embraced Wimbledon Village and
the party Evelina Rickenbacher had chosen to attend had only been a garden
party when the sun was still shining. There were no lights installed in the backyard
and everybody had gone inside.

Mint sat on a chair under the veranda
window and looked up at the night sky. It had gotten quite chilly now that the
sun had gone but she had no reason to follow the guests inside. The party was
organized by her watch sponsor and only a few players attended it, most of them
guys. She felt no need to engage in meaningless conversations with them.
Evelina could do all the talking for both of them – and the drinking.

Mint drew her jacket closer around herself
and pulled out her cell phone.

Opening the picture folder she flipped
through the photos, then slowed down when she found the pictures of Martina and
Antonia, Sasha and the Galloway as well as Amanda and Elise. She wondered what
these players were doing right now. She was sure Amanda and Elise were
attending a party just as boring as the one she was stuck in. Martina and
Antonia however always looked like they had lots of fun. They would probably be
hanging out at a wild party. Then again, Antonia was playing great tennis at
the moment – she had reached the fourth round easily here in Wimbledon – and
probably wouldn’t party too hard.

Once in a while she felt the need to go
through these old pictures. She had transferred them to her phone so whenever
she wanted to she could take a look. Why did she love these pictures so much?
Mint couldn’t say. She didn’t even like Elise, who seemed to be in a
happy-ever-after relationship with Amanda. Who cared about the bubbly German
anyway? Not her.

She closed the picture with Amanda and
Elise again. Sasha was next, eyeing one of the Galloway twins. What a
mysterious photo, Mint thought. She wondered what had been going on with the
Czech last summer. Was she in love with the twins? Sasha was getting married in
a couple of weeks. Yes, all this was mysterious indeed. Was Luella Galloway
Sasha’s true love? Mint cracked up laughing at the thought, but gasped when she
thought about the open window behind her.

What did Mint know about true love anyway?
With Evelina lurking around she couldn’t even get laid these days. The last
time was over three months ago, she realized with horror. And love? How could
anybody really love her when they all had no clue who she was? Sometimes she
herself didn’t know who she was.

“I knew you were here somewhere,” a female
voice said, coming from above. Mint spun around and looked up at the window,
but the window was empty. Then the door opened and Polly Duke came down the
small stairs that led to the backyard.

“I saw Evelina inside, so I looked for
you.” The Canadian was smiling.

Mint frowned. She quickly closed the folder
on her cell phone and sat up straight. What was Polly doing here? As far as
Mint knew she didn’t have a lot of sponsors – let alone a sponsor for expensive
watches.

“How come you’re here?” she asked
suspiciously.

Startled by the unfriendly question, Polly
stopped midway on the lawn.

“Bernadette took me along. She was
invited.”

Mint understood. Bernadette was one of the
sponsored players, even though the watch company hardly ever used her for promotional
work. Polly was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Mint to
invite her to sit down next to her. But why should Mint do that? Hadn’t she
been friendly enough, inviting Polly over to watch a movie the other week?
Polly hadn’t even bothered to call her.

The awkward silence only angered Mint more.
Apparently Polly was expecting her to say something. But wasn’t it Polly who
should apologize for not showing up? Polly was only interested in herself. She
got a spot on the Canadian Olympic team – hurray – while Mint wouldn’t be able
to compete, with all the other Americans ranked above her.

She looked down at her phone, seeing from
the corner of her eye that Polly was biting her upper lip.

“Why are you not inside?” Polly asked
awkwardly.

“I wanted to be alone,” Mint said bluntly.

Polly sighed. “You don’t like Evelina very
much, do you?”

Mint looked up. What did Polly want? Talk
about her stepmother? Talk about her deceased mom? No thanks. It had been a
mistake to let Polly in on her mother’s death. Why on earth had she told her –
a stranger! She never told anyone, and rightly so.

“Polly,” she said sharply. “I’m sitting
here in the garden because I want to be alone.”

For a moment, Polly didn’t seem to
understand. But then she nodded briefly to make her way up the stairs. When she
reached the top she looked back.

“See you around, Mint.”

***

Like ducklings following their mother, the
four girls waddled after the Wimbledon groundskeeper. Mr. Everett Wilson had
agreed on giving the young players a tour around the grounds, showing them
places even they hadn’t seen before, while the Supersport team filmed the
sightseeing tour.

Gemma and Robyn, the two English players,
took part in this edition as the Championships of Wimbledon naturally were a matter
of public interest and the show would air on the local Supersport Channel more
often than elsewhere. Also on the team today were Elise Renard and Chili García
Lopez, the Spanish player.

Paola walked behind Lars, who followed the
group with a hand-held camera. They crossed a shaded picnic area on top of
Henman Hill, then walked past a small pond and down the stairs which led to
Court No. 1, the second largest court of the Championships, as Mr. Wilson
explained.

The girls smiled. They all had played on Court
No. 1 before. It was a privilege reserved for the top players, or the British
players – but if you were drawn against one of those players, naturally you put
your foot on the big court, too.

“You played a fantastic match on Court No.
1 the other day,” Robyn addressed Elise, while they were making their way
around the stadium to the practice court area in the back of the tournament
site. The German had won against Yelena Kovalenko in a tight three-setter. She
was through to the second week of Wimbledon.

“
I
’ve already played on Centre,”
Gemma boasted before Elise could reply. The young British girl had played a
match the other day against one of the top seeds, Sasha Mrachova, and had lost
the match in two tight sets, but Paola could still see the excitement and pride
she had taken from her centre stage performance in front of her home crowd.

It was early in the morning and usually
there would already be a crowd of spectators gathering at the entrance and
waiting for the stewards to open the barriers. But today was the middle Sunday
and Wimbledon was the only Grand Slam where play rested on the middle Sunday.
Paola was glad that the girls were not too hung over. The British girls and
Chili especially had had no reason to stay sober, as they were already out of
the Championships and were only staying longer to take advantage of the fact
that they could use the practice courts in preparation for the Olympics.

Mr. Wilson led them through the alley
towards the Aorangi practice courts, down the stairs and the lower courts of
Aorangi. Then they turned right.

“Girls, you all know the gymnasium all the
players can use, with all the gear that you need to stay fit and get ready for
your matches” Mr. Wilson explained, taking the pathway to the training tent.
“But now I want to show you where I keep my gear for keeping the courts in the
best condition.”

They didn’t enter the gym tent but instead
crossed a small sitting area next to it, leading to a gable-roofed country
house. Mr. Wilson guided the chatting group to a shed next to the building.

“In order to keep the grass as perfect as
possible we have to mow it every day.”

Mr. Wilson opened the heavy door to the
dark shed. The girls were astonished. A million lawn mowers were stacked on the
ground and Paola imagined the army of groundskeepers who swarmed the site every
morning to keep nature at bay.

“What are you doing with these old
racquets?” Chili asked Mr. Wilson. She had picked up a wooden racquet that was
leaning against the wall. It was clearly from a different tennis era, sporting
a long handle and a smaller head than today’s racquets.

“Oh, I found them in the basement of the
Club house. After the Championships I need to find a nice place on a wall for
those,” Mr. Wilson explained.

Chili weighed the racquet in her hands.

“It’s so heavy,” she exclaimed. “How can
you even volley with it?”

Now all the girls wanted to try and have a
swing with the ancient club. Paola had to grin at Mr. Wilson, who sadly turned
away from his lawn mower armory and followed the girls outside. After the girls
had all taken turns – moaning about the impossibility of getting a ball over
the net with the heavy stick – he carried the racquet back inside and closed
the door.

“Don’t you lock the shed?” Elise asked.

Mr. Wilson shook his head. “Not during the
day. Who would want to steal my lawn mowers?”

***

“I hate working on a Sunday,” Hugh ranted.

He stepped out onto the roof of the media
centre and blinked into the sun. “Everybody gets a day off but we have to
report about tennis that won’t happen.”

Sam followed her colleague and patted
Hugh’s back. He was badly hung-over from last night’s Supersport garden party
but when they had heard the bad news they had to get up and make it to the
broadcast centre on the Wimbledon grounds.