Love Game - Season 2012 (43 page)

They waited for Bernadette’s response. With
two fingers the dark-haired player slowly turned the envelope holding the
invitation.

“The party is after the official players’
party?” she eventually asked.

Agnes nodded. “Yes, only ten minutes from
the hotel. We found a lovely spot at the Bosporus.”

“Sounds great,” Bernadette smiled, and
Monica began to relax. But only for a second.

“I’m afraid though I won’t make it
tonight,” Bernadette said with a wintry smile. “Polly neither. We arranged a
late practice after the official meeting.”

She handed the envelope back to a surprised
Candice.

“And Morgana never approached me,” she said
smugly. “I understand that you are nervous about the prospect of your
racketeering being unveiled, but I have nothing to hide. It wasn’t me who
betrayed anyone.”

Abruptly, she turned around and quickly
walked to the car park where she waved to a driver. The group watched her until
the car had disappeared behind the large arena.

“She didn’t buy it,” Agnes sighed.

Candice shook her head. “No, she didn’t.
She’s too smart.”

“Always used to be,” Monica said pensively.
At least they knew now what this was about. Betrayal. Yes, understandably,
Monica thought. But was an event that happened over a decade ago still relevant
for Bernadette?

I have nothing to hide. It wasn’t me.

One thing Monica was sure of now. That had
been a lie. It was Bernadette who was Morgana’s source.

***

When the ceremony began – with a couple of
boring speeches and waiters running around and handing out champagne – Polly
and Mint had grabbed two glasses and had found a spot in the back of the room,
as Mint was trying to go unnoticed. But to no avail – Agnes had approached
them, and Polly and Mint had received an exclusive invitation for a secret
party. After Candice had finished her speech, they believed they could finally
dig into the delicious buffet, but suddenly Paola had stormed the stage – late
as always – and announced the winner voted by the audience of the Supersport
show.

They had chosen Polly, as Paola revealed.

“Right on!” the American crowed, and Polly almost
spilled her champagne over the tablecloth, when Mint gave her a hard forehand
pat on the back. Then she gave Polly a little push to walk forward to the small
stage where Paola was looking out for the young Canadian player.

“Come on,” Mint whispered into her ear.
Polly gulped, but then smiled when she saw all the happy faces in the room
applauding her win.

Three minutes later she was back with Mint.
She couldn’t remember a word she had said into the microphone but Mint’s smile
told her that it hadn’t all been too silly.

“I didn’t know that you were competing for
a prize,” Mint remarked.

“I didn’t know it either,” Polly said with
a shrug. “I must have missed it with everything that was happening to my mom.”

They looked at the check that had just
filled Polly’s purse by $50,000. She thought back to the conversation she had
had with Bernadette when jogging through the hotel garden in Beijing. No, she
would never need a single penny of Mint’s money, having earned more than ever
this year – not only in the doubles competition with Bernadette but also with a
few good runs in singles – and most probably a lot more than Mint. Polly could
be the big spender and take Mint on a holiday before retreating to Canada over
the winter. Just when she wanted to tell Mint about her idea, someone tapped
her on the shoulder.

“It’s time, Polly,” Bernadette said coolly.

Polly sighed. One more week and she would
have Bernadette off her back forever. But tonight she had promised to have a
gym session with her.

“I’ll call you as soon as we are done and
then we can go over to the other party,” Polly whispered into Mint’s ear, who
nodded slightly. Polly could only hope that Bernadette didn’t catch the evil
look Mint was throwing the older player. Her new girlfriend sure wasn’t happy that
their evening was being interrupted by Bernadette.

The older player accompanied her to her
room and waited until Polly had changed into her training clothes. The gym was
located in the basement of the hotel and while they took the elevator
downstairs, Polly could hear the music coming from the hallway.

“How much wine have you had?” Bernadette
demanded to know.

“Not much,” Polly murmured, while
Bernadette shooed her into the training room.

“Warm-up first,” Bernadette ordered,
pulling out a mat from her bag.

“What’s this?” Polly asked, pointing at
something in the bag.

“Nothing,” Bernadette retorted. “A
souvenir.”

She quickly zipped the bag shut, hiding the
old racquet that was inside.

“Where did you get it from?”

Bernadette looked up, annoyed with the inquisition.
Then she paused for a moment. “My father,” she finally said.

Then she jumped up and began her warm-up
routine.

***

It was a pretty good party, Monica had to
admit. Candice and Agnes had done a great job again at finding a wonderful and
exotic location. Monica was overlooking the sunken garden of the swanky but
intimate palais on the banks of the Bosporus, checking the faces in the crowd
for Morgana Doré. But the French player was nowhere to be seen. She began
walking around the portico that contained the garden area until she reached a
small round temple at the end of it. Two huge cargo ships crossed the Sea of
Marmara, heading for the mouth of the Bosporus.

Suddenly, a loud shriek made her turn
around. Clamor broke out as Antonia and Martina chased each other through the
water fountain and splashed the other guests.

“Those two,” Monica grinned. The young
couple had been together for almost two years now and Monica remembered how she
set them up during a New Years Party she had hosted back then.

“I want to jump into that fountain with
you,” a young voice next to her said. Monica turned around, raising her
eyebrows. Gabriella had taken a spot at the balustrade, also watching the
Italian and the Argentine. But she hadn’t talked to Monica. Next to Gabriella
was none other than Sasha Mrachova.

Now, look what we have here, Monica
thought. So, Lynn’s cryptic hints regarding a surprise couple actually held
water. Gabriella and Sasha were an interesting match-up, to say the least. It
was almost inexcusable for Monica to have only found out now, but for the past
months she had been occupied with the trouble caused by Morgana and her
Secret
8
source.

Morgana. Once more Monica scanned the crowd
and this time she spotted the French girl on the other side of the garden,
standing on the terrace and looking like she was also searching for someone.
Monica began crawling through the packed crowd which was swaying to the music
that Agnes was playing. Monica sighed at the obligatory French chansons that
were part of every Year End party since a million years. Every year she forgot
to talk her friend out of playing DJ at the party. But there was no time to
hold her ears shut. With a little bit of luck she could reach Morgana before
the French player left the terrace and disappeared in the crowd again.

Halfway through the garden an elbow
obstructed her way. In front of her, Tom Richardson pulled out his cell phone.

“Ted, darling!” he screamed while Monica
was trying to find a way through. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call you. My phone was
in my bag which was in Zurich until now.”

“Please – ,” Monica yelled behind Tom, but
the photographer didn’t hear. Why on earth had Agnes turned the volume up so
loud?

“What? I can’t hear you, Teddy,” Tom blared
into the phone. “What?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tom!” Monica couldn’t
believe it. She was stuck in the crowd with Tom swaying his arms around.

“The pictures?” Tom blared. “I’m sorry, I
don’t understand a word, Ted. But I have an eye on the old girl. I promise.”

There was no way past the British guy, and
in the distance she could see that Morgana was leaving the terrace. The French
player was making a beeline towards the spring fountain. For a short moment the
view was obstructed by the wildly gesticulating Brit and when Monica was able
to peer through the crowd again she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Morgana
Doré was talking to Mint Rickenbacher.

“What’s Mint doing here?” Monica asked
herself aloud, only to be screamed down by Tom again.

“I simply can’t hear you, baby,” the
photographer yelled. “Let’s talk later. You need to tell me about the pictures
and I promise to keep an eye on her. Do you hear me? I can’t hear you.”

With a rough blow Monica finally pushed Tom
aside and threw herself into the crowd again. Morgana and Mint were on the
other side of the spring fountain. Through the water she could see Morgana
grabbing Mint by the shoulders. “Where are they?” she could hear her scream
over the music.

“In the gym!” Mint yelled back. “Polly will
come over later.”

“Tell her to bring Bernadette,” Morgana
told the American youngster. She sounded furious.

“Why?” Mint exclaimed. “I don’t want her
here.”

“But I do,” Morgana said grimly. Monica had
pricked up her ears as the French player wasn’t screaming this time. She had
said it more to herself than to Mint.

“Call her,” Morgana ordered. Mint let her
shoulders hang, but looking at Morgana’s determined face she pulled out her
phone and called a number.

Monica waited. This was interesting.
Morgana obviously wanted to talk to Bernadette, and she wasn’t happy. She was
livid.

“Polly’s not answering,” Mint said after a
while, but then straightened up.

“Polly? Hello?” Mint frowned. Apparently
Polly was on the line now. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“What’s happening?” Morgana asked, too. She
had leaned over to Mint and put her ear close to the phone.

“Polly?” Mint was screaming now. Her eyes
grew wide.

“They are fighting,” she stammered, looking
at Morgana. “It sounds like they are fighting.”

Morgana nodded. But before she could say
anything Mint was pushing her way through the crowd towards the door. The crowd
was dancing, quickly closing the gap behind Mint, and it was too late for
Morgana to follow the young American. Monica watched Mint hurry out of the
garden and bit her lip. Something was going on and again it felt like she
couldn’t do anything about it. But then she swept the thought of Mint aside and
stepped onto the marble edge of the fountain, balancing on it all around the
water basin. This was her chance to get a hold of Morgana.

***

Candice slowly opened one eye. However, she
stopped half-way as the sun shining through the window blinded her. She moaned
a little and pulled the covers over her head. The party had gone until four in
the morning and she felt as if she had drunk a whole fountain of wine and
liquor.

Fountain. The last thing she remembered was
Gabriella and Sasha causing the surprise of the evening and jumping naked into
the water basin, with Lynn Pebblestone smugly overlooking the scene. She had
defended her title as Queen of the Love Game, again being the only umpire to correctly
name Sasha and Gabriella as a couple. How did she do it? A mystery Candice
would never solve. At least not today with her head pounding.

She opened her eyes a second time and
checked on Agnes lying next to her. Her French girlfriend looked just as knackered.
Thank god there wasn’t much to do today. Everything was organized for a smooth
start to the tennis in the early afternoon. They could snooze for another two
hours.

Candice snuggled against Agnes, digging her
nose into the soft hair and relaxing again – when the hotel room door rattled
with loud bangs.

“Oh, really?” Candice moaned. Agnes
twitched in her sleep. The banging didn’t stop.

“I just hope this is for a
very
good
reason,” Candice growled and jumped out of bed. She slipped into her bathrobe and
opened the door.

“Candice!” Tom gasped.

“What the fuck, Tom? It’s eight in the
morning.”

Tom stared at her with a bewildered look.
Had he taken drugs at the party yesterday, Candice wondered. But then the
photographer reached out his arm and pointed to the window.

“Please,” he whispered and pushed Candice
forward.

Candice and Agnes’s room was on the fourth
floor, overlooking the backyard of the hotel which had a large square pool. The
wind that had cooled the city a day before was just picking up again and made
light waves on the water surface, tenderly rocking the lone figure in the
middle of the pool.

Candice felt the air rush down her throat,
and up again. All of a sudden, nothing seemed to move anymore – nothing but the
water making small waves and long wisps of dark hair swaying in the surge like
the arms of an octopus. The morning light shone brightly upon the scene – too
brightly, illuminating the horror that was beginning to dawn upon Candice, and
the growing number of hotel employees that came rushing to the pool, like a
lamp in a dissection room.