Love Match (19 page)

“So, please have fun today,” Nails said, wrapping up his speech. “Explore the campus. Meet our students and staff. And watch some celebrities get a taste of what it's like to take on future sports stars.”

The crowd applauded politely before they dispersed to various points of the campus. A special app had been created for the Expo with a map of the campus and the times of the events along with directions to get from one venue to another. Maya
was going to be busy making appearances at each of the overlapping events, which was likely part of Nails's plan as well.

Maya didn't care about that plan anymore. She hadn't talked to Travis all week and wanted to know how he was doing. There weren't any other pictures of them on the Wall, but the fallout from his appearance on
The Hype
hadn't died down. Travis was finally getting the amount of press coverage that his father wanted. It just wasn't the kind of stories he'd imagined.

It didn't matter that the press was out in force. A few shots of Maya and Travis talking together at school wasn't exactly breaking news. She had to find out how he was doing no matter what Nails thought about it. She was about to march right over to Travis, when she heard his father's voice behind her. “Maya?”

She considered ignoring him and walking away, but that would have been pushing it too far. Maya plastered a fake smile on her face and turned. “Yes?”

Her eyes went wide as she saw that Nails was not alone. Her new friend from the Ontario Open had made good on her promise to stop by the school. “Dona! I didn't know you were going to be here.”

“It was a sudden decision.” The tennis phenom placed a hand on Nails's arm. “
Someone
guilted me into it by reminding me how the additional press will bring more donations to help the students of this
fine institution
.”

“Well, you can't say I wasn't right.” Nails nodded to the many cameras and camera phones recording their reunion. “I'll leave you two to catch up.”

“How do you put up with all this?” Maya said about the cameras.

“You learn to tune them out,” Dona replied. “Most of the time.”

Dona guided Maya to an area behind the stage that was mostly hidden from prying eyes. “On a related note, I was wondering how you were doing after that thing with Nicole online.”

“You saw that?” Maya asked. Of course she had.
Everyone
had.

“I'm guessing it wasn't your proudest moment.”

Maya shook her head. “She just gets to me.”

“You're not the only one,” Dona said, lowering her voice. Even though they were away from the crowds, she was still being careful. “Nicole doesn't have the best reputation on the tour. She's not like you.”

“Not like me?” Maya asked, matching Dona's softer tone. There was something that had been in the back of Maya's mind since their press conference in Toronto. Only now did Maya realize it. She needed an answer to a question she didn't even know she'd had. “Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the compliment, but how do you know? We barely spoke in Toronto. And then you went and gave me your endorsement—”

“We talked on the court,” Dona said. “Through our game. The way we played. That was all I needed to get a read on you, Maya. I've been doing this awhile. I even went up against Ms. King in her first professional tournament. Trust me, I can spot the difference. You have the hunger, but I don't expect it
to devour you. It's something that I hope I've managed to keep myself after all my many years on the courts.”

“It hasn't been
that many
years,” Maya said.

“True. I might even have a few more good ones left, no matter what the press might say.” She raised her voice back to a more conversational level. “But look, I don't want to keep you. You've got a lot to do today before you wipe the floor with Nicole this afternoon!”

“Dona!”

“Oh, whatever.” She waved off the concern. “The cameras aren't within earshot. And even if they were, I don't care. Nicole's been playing up that wrist all week, like it's some kind of excuse for not beating me faster.”

“I'm no fan of Nicole's,” Maya said. “Not anymore. But she hasn't been playing it up. If anything, she's been hiding it from everyone. She still won't talk about it.”

“Exactly,” Dona said. “Which is why everyone is still talking about it. Trust me, Maya. This story isn't over.”

Dona's warning followed Maya across campus as she made her way to the soccer field. Nails had scheduled a brief board meeting once the morning photo ops were done, but Dona planned to visit with Maya later in the day. She promised to give Maya all the advice she could about the wild and wacky world of the pro-tennis circuit. Until then, Maya tried to put all distractions out of her mind and enjoy the day.

The soccer game was already in full swing by the time Maya reached the field. The stands were filled with telenovela
fans, since the Academy soccer team was taking on the cast of one of the most popular Spanish soap operas. Some of those fans even knew Diego already. They held handmade signs professing their love to the actors and that one particular soccer player.

Renee stood at the top of the stands, ignoring all the signs. It was one thing for those random girls—and a few guys—to dream of Diego, but she actually
had
him.

“What's that?” Maya asked when she saw the metal contraption Renee had set up. It held a computer tablet high enough to clear the signs, giving it a direct line of sight to the field.

Renee walked Maya a few steps away from the tablet. “Cleo's across-the-globe call the other day inspired me. I set up my own international video chat.”

“You've decided this is the best way to introduce your family to Diego?”

“Oh, God no! But I did introduce myself to his,” Renee said. “I snuck into his phone and got his cousin's e-mail address. We messaged back and forth to set up a surprise for Diego and his family. I rented out a local restaurant in a nicer part of town down there. It's a sports bar where they show soccer games from all over the world. I'm sending a live feed of the game so his family can watch him. They've never missed a single one of his games back home.”

“Wow. You really do like this guy.”

Renee looked back to the tablet, then leaned in to whisper to Maya. “I think I might do more than
like
him.”

“You mean you might
love
him?”

Renee slapped a hand over Maya's mouth. “Don't say it out loud!”

Maya laughed while she batted Renee's hand away. “Doesn't matter if I say it or not. You're the one who has to say it for it to mean anything.”

“It's way too soon.”

“True,” Maya agreed. “But the heart does not keep to a clock.”

“It doesn't like being split in two either,” Renee said. “What's the latest on the Reed boys?”

Maya turned her attention to the field. “Oh, look, your boyfriend has the ball and is taking it toward the net.”

“You can put off the conversation with me, Maya,” Renee said. “But you can't put it off with Travis much longer.”

Maya made her way to the golf course a few minutes before the soccer game ended. The results of the game were already a foregone conclusion. Diego and the rest of the Academy team were letting the actors win.

It hadn't been obvious to most of the people in the stands at first, but anyone who'd ever seen a game played by Academy students knew it without question. They made far too many mistakes and missed too many opportunities. As the game went on, the mistakes became bigger and harder to miss. The Academy team switched from playing to performing.

It began with Diego doing a pratfall as he ran to the net. He tripped, fell, and tumbled past the goalie as the ball bounced off the post and back into the field of play. That inspired the
rest of the team to one-up one another with more spectacular mistakes until even the actors laughed along. By the time Maya left the stands, the guests had outscored the Academy team by ten points.

The golf course was much calmer. However, a foursome that included a pair of designers from some fashion reality contest were adding a level of drama to the game, if the texts Maya was receiving were to be believed.

Maya hoped for a report when she caught up with Cleo at the ninth hole. A light lunch had been set out under tents there, since it was the midpoint of the game. Assorted members of the press were permitted to stage impromptu interviews there as well. Nails was not about to let any opportunity to promote his students—and his school—pass by.

Cleo had just finished at the ninth hole with an impressive eagle, putting the ball into the hole at two strokes under par. She received a polite round of applause from the crowd and smiled as she shook hands with her teammates, another girl from their class and two women who hosted a popular antiques show on PBS.

The fake smile dropped to an expression of extreme loathing as Cleo walked off the green and joined her friend. Dressed in Maya's pink polo and khaki shorts with Renee's baseball cap on top covering her buzz cut, Cleo was almost unrecognizable.

“Kill me,” Cleo said by way of greeting. “Kill me now. Anything to end this torture.”

Maya tried not to be too offended. “My clothes aren't
that
bad.”

“It's not the clothes,” Cleo said. “It's the company. Those
are two of the most boring people on the planet. They don't talk about anything but hundred-year-old chairs, and tapestries, and armoires—my God, the armoires! It never stops. How these people don't put their audiences to sleep every night is beyond me.”

“At least you won't be showing up on the Wall with them,” Maya said over a loud outburst of cheers and laughter from the crowd watching the ninth hole.

The designers Maya had been getting reports about were on the green behind Cleo's foursome. Well, one of them was on the green. The other one, dressed in plaid capris and a matching jaunty golf hat, was up in a tree trying to knock loose her golf ball, totally playing it up for the crowd.

“
Those
are the people I wish I'd been teamed with,” Cleo said.

Maya cringed inwardly from guilt. She and her friends had promised to never keep secrets, but she was not planning to tell her roommate that those were the people Cleo
had
been teamed with. As Student Ambassador, Maya didn't have the power to get Renee on the swim roster, but she could rearrange the celebrity pairings on the golf course. She did just that the morning after Cleo's makeunder.

Maya still didn't agree with Cleo's plan to change up her look, but she wanted to be supportive. Those designers had developed a reputation on their show for flamboyance. They did whatever it took for extra screen time, from crazy outfits to backstabbing behavior. It was too big a risk to pair them with Cleo. The antiques show hosts were safer. No way they'd give Grant Adams anything to write about.

Seeing the designers on the course, Maya was glad she made the roster change to protect Cleo's reputation. But she was extremely sorry for the incredible drop in the fun factor of Cleo's afternoon. The designers were having a blast.

“Quick,” Cleo said as she grabbed a glass of purple punch. “Tell me I look great.”

Without hesitation, Maya said, “You look dreadful.”

“Hey! I'm in your clothes.”

“Yes.
My
clothes. You should be in your own. This is a stupid plan. I'm sorry I had anything to do with it.”

“I have gotten more compliments on my game today than I've ever gotten before,” Cleo said. “Obviously I'm doing something right.”

“But at what cost?” Maya asked.

An older woman in khaki pants and a beige jacket over a green polo was very obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. “Can I help you?” Cleo asked.

“I'm sorry,” the woman said. “I couldn't help but overhear. If you don't mind me saying so, I think it's a vast improvement over your old look. I saw you in that garish monstrosity in Savannah.”

“Garish monstrosity?” Cleo said. “You must read Grant Adams. He called it that too.”

“I've been known to peruse the blog,” the woman admitted.

“Well,” Maya said, “if
you
don't mind, I have to ask … don't you think he's been a little rough on a teenage girl?”

“I'm sure he's just trying to make a point,” the woman said. “His advice is in her best interest. Your friend is quite proficient in the gentleman's game.”

“Don't you think maybe it's time to stop calling it a gentleman's game?” Maya asked.

“It's just a figure of speech,” the woman replied. “Not everything needs to be politically correct twaddle nowadays.”

“You sound a lot like Grant Adams.” Cleo's eyes narrowed. “Like maybe you
are
Grant Adams.”

Maya had to laugh. “Cleo, don't be—” The deer-in-the-headlights look that flashed across the woman's face stopped Maya in her tracks. Was this woman really the man who had been attacking Cleo for the past two weeks?

“I don't know what you're talking about,” the woman said.

“I've been doing a lot of research on ‘Mr.' Adams lately,” Cleo said. “The way you talk. The language you use. It's just like him. So, either you're a really devout follower, or …”

The woman didn't say anything, but she looked extremely uncomfortable.

Maya was outraged. “Why would you do that?” she asked the woman. “Why would you say those things? Why do you pretend to be a guy while you do it?”

The woman pointed at Cleo. “To protect her,” she finally said. “I understand your position, Cleo. You're young. You have an amazing talent. And you think that will be enough to succeed. Not in this world, my dear.

“I call it the gentleman's game, because it still is a gentleman's game,” the woman said. “There are rules that we must abide by if we want to excel. You will not get very far in this sport with preposterous hair and outlandish clothing.”