The Unforgiving Minute (8 page)

Chapter 8

M
EMPHIS
was freezing, with a feeble snow shower starting just as Ryan left the airport. By suppertime on his first day there, Ryan hated the place.

He’d been excited to get to the hotel and get settled in his room. He always unpacked fully as soon as he arrived in a tournament hotel, expecting to stay for the full length of the tournament. That resulted in him doing more unpacking and packing than he would have had to otherwise, but it was important to set the right expectations.

After he’d finished unpacking, he found his way to the second floor to try out the comprehensive gym the place boasted. He’d still been excited when he went on to the restaurant, where he saw several familiar faces among the players and support teams and family members, who were beginning to recognize him in return and greet him by name. But as he sat on his own, eating a plate of over-priced pasta, the excitement was slowly washed away by growing disappointment. He still hadn’t seen Josh. He also realized they hadn’t exchanged cell numbers. If he wasn’t going to run into Josh accidentally at the hotel, he wasn’t sure how they were supposed to catch up with each other again, especially as the tournament schedule had them both playing their first match at the same time. That was when he realized this was the worst tournament in the world and he hated it.

Ryan tried to stamp down on his bad mood as Elena and Lily spotted him and came over to join him. He knew he was being petulant; he’d just thought that Memphis would be a continuation of the Davis Cup, where Josh’s time had been Ryan’s and there were no outside distractions. Apart from playing tennis, which was never a distraction so far as Ryan was concerned.

Elena and Lily’s company eventually shook him out of his sulk. They spent the evening in the bar, playing something that Lily swore was a legitimate variant of Peruvian poker, but which, so far as Ryan could tell, had no rules whatsoever, except that Lily’s hand won every time. He didn’t really care. They were only playing for jelly beans, and it was good to be with friends again.

I
N
HIS
first-round match the next day, Ryan easily beat an Argentinian who’d come up through the qualifiers. He lingered as long as he possibly could in physio, just in case Josh came in again, and then made his way to the players’ lounge, hoping he might see him there. He quartered the place, looking in every corner and into the midst of every tight-knit group, remembering the way Josh’s army of minions tended to surround him. Search as he might, there was no sign either of the familiar whites or the dark blond hair, which was getting steadily lighter as the season progressed and sunshine had its inevitable effect, lightening strands to gold that shone in the sun.

And Ryan was not in the least bit fanciful. And not in the least bit unhealthily obsessed.

Returning to the hotel, he stopped outside to chat to the fans who had gathered there. He signed autographs when they asked him, though he wasn’t sure why they wanted his autograph, considering some of the other players that were playing in the tournament. As he walked across the lobby to the elevators, he was still smiling slightly from the interaction with people who loved tennis every bit as much as he did. And then he smiled even more, because coming across the lobby toward him was Josh, who broke into a blinding smile upon seeing Ryan. Ryan stood there like a particularly well-rooted, inanely grinning tree as Josh shook free of his army and came over.

“Ryan, hey, I was beginning to think I’d missed you.”

“Yeah, I looked for you,” Ryan said, then winced mentally, because way to sound desperate.

“I’ve got a practice session now, but we’ll catch up later, yeah? Give me your cell number.”

“Okay,” Ryan said and obediently did so. As he watched Josh walk away, the army swiftly and competently closing ranks again around him, he didn’t know whether to kick himself for being quite so easy or to break into a dance of celebration on the spot.

“S
OMETHING
you want to tell us, Ryan?” Elena asked as Ryan checked his cell for the eleventh time while they were waiting for their meal to be served.

“Just keeping on top of things, the way a professional player does,” Ryan responded airily, then shot an offended glance at Lily as she snorted.

“Marks out of ten, Ryan; how cute is he?”

“Judge for yourself,” Ryan said, and who could blame him for smirking as both Elena’s and Lily’s jaws dropped when they saw the full glory that was Josh Andrews approaching their table. “We’re just friends,” Ryan hissed belatedly, suddenly remembering their assumptions that he’d just played along with.

“Sure, Ryan, sure,” Elena said, sounding dazed as Josh bestowed a slightly shy-looking smile on her and Lily. The hint of pink in his cheeks and the uncertainty in his body language as he rubbed the back of his neck was perhaps the most adorable thing Ryan had seen in his whole life.

“Hey, Josh.” He got to his feet. “Want to join us?”

“I can’t,” Josh said, pulling a face. “I’ve got this interview my dad wants me to do. Are you around later?”

Ryan tried not to nod
too
eagerly. “Room 3308. Just give me a knock once you’re back.”

Josh sketched an awkward farewell wave that from a lesser personage than Josh Andrews might have been called dorky and retreated.

“When the hell were you planning on telling me this, Ryan? You and Josh fucking Andrews?” Elena did at least have the decency to wait until Josh had left the dining room.

Ryan shook his head swiftly. “We got to be friends during the Davis Cup tie, but that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Elena said. “Sure. And that boy’s eyes weren’t just eating you up.”

“And he didn’t act like a teenager asking his crush to the prom, not at all,” Lily said. “Right down to the blush he didn’t have.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, trying to drown out the voice inside that wanted to ask
Really? You really think he looked at me like that?
“That was all down to you guys. You scared him.”

“Can you imagine being twenty-six, a superstar, and still having your dad running your life?” Lily asked.

“His dad’s his manager, okay?” Ryan said.

“It wasn’t a criticism,” Lily raised her hands placatingly at the sharpness in Ryan’s voice. “I just meant it has to be weird. Kind of like Peter Pan, never being allowed to grow up.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a problem for Josh Andrews,” Elena said appreciatively. “Believe me, that boy is
all
grown-up.” She shook herself as Ryan and Lily both stared at her. “Sorry, I think I started channeling Ryan there for a minute.”

And then the waiter brought their entrees, and Ryan managed to talk about food non-stop for the rest of the meal, preventing Elena and Lily from getting a word in edgeways. It also distracted him from his hopeful thoughts about why Josh had made the effort to come and see him, rather than just text him.

This time Ryan didn’t hang around for another game of Peruvian poker—“Strange,” Elena commented, “you’d almost think he had somewhere else he wanted to be”—and hurried back to his room. He sat in the armchair for the best part of an hour, waiting. Every time he heard a door bang, or footsteps in the corridor, he froze. At least three times he thought he heard a knock at his door, but each time he appeared to have imagined it.

Finally realizing just how much nervous energy he was burning and how stupid that was given he was playing Wu tomorrow, who was a scarily good technician, he turned his mind determinedly to tennis. He employed one of the visualization techniques he’d learned from Zoe, and ended up so far into it that the knock on his door took him by surprise. Glancing at his watch as he got up to open the door, he saw it was far later than he’d realized.

Josh was standing there, looking a little apologetic. “I didn’t realize it would take so long.”

“No problem.” Ryan stood back to let him in. He wasn’t sure if they were going to go out somewhere, though it was a bit late on a pre-match night to do that, or just go to the bar. Letting Josh in meant they could discuss it in his room rather than the corridor. To his surprise, Josh sat down in one of the chairs, looking as if he was settling in to stay.

“You want something from the minibar?” Ryan offered.

Josh pulled a slight face. “Better not. Don’t let me stop you.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said. He’d only offered to be polite.

“Sorry to interrupt your supper earlier,” Josh said. “Ms. Sanchez, I saw you with her in Brisbane. Are you and she…?”

“God, no,” Ryan said abruptly, and far too quickly for chivalry. “No. Just,
no.”
Josh blinked in surprise at the forcefulness of his answer. “I mean, she’s my best friend, but she’s
scary
.”
And then he decided to take the bull by the horns, or tackle the elephant in the room, or whatever other metaphor he could come up with that would take his mind off the import of what he was about to say. “Girls aren’t really my thing, anyway.”

Josh was very still for an instant, and Ryan wondered if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. Then again, if Josh was a homophobic asshole, Ryan wouldn’t want him as a friend, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been a mistake.

“She is kind of scary,” Josh said after a minute, and the sideways look and smile he gave Ryan after that made Ryan realize he was okay with what Ryan had just said.

Ryan bit down on his disappointment that Josh hadn’t made a similar declaration in return, which ended up with them in a clinch and possibly celebrating their wedding anniversary some years down the line. “She’d love that you called her Ms. Sanchez,” he said. “You’d get definite points for that.”

Josh’s nose wrinkled slightly, which was not in the least cute. “I don’t actually know her first name. I’ve just seen her surname up on results boards.”

“Well, don’t tell her that, and let her think you’re just that polite. I won’t burst her bubble.”

“That’s mighty big of you.”

Ryan grinned. “I’m like that,” he said, stretching out in his chair with more than a hint of smugness. And then Josh turned very slightly pink and looked away, and Ryan wondered if his mind had gone where Ryan’s mind had just gone. He stretched out his long body a little further, in case Josh really was wondering just how big he was. He wasn’t above playing dirty, and he was pretty sure that Josh was interested.

“So, uh, what are your plans after Memphis?”

He was right. That was a definite scrabbling for conversation, not to mention Josh’s voice sounded very slightly hoarse. Ryan wanted to do a little dance of triumph in his chair, but the thought that
that
would most definitely scare Josh off stopped him. He bent his mind instead to Josh’s question. “You ever think it’s weird that we’re traveling round the world and not getting to see any of it except hotels and tennis courts?” he asked.

“Not really,” Josh said as he stretched out in his own chair, mirroring Ryan. “We’re working. It’s no different from someone going into an office building every day. If you want to do the tourist thing, take a vacation.”

“But shouldn’t we see something of the countries we go to?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but anything more than a few hours is going to mess with your focus. Not to mention fitting it around training.”

Ryan sighed. He guessed Josh was right. It just felt a bit weird to him. Maybe that was because of his parents’ expectations. They asked how his matches went, of course, but they were more interested in the different countries he was visiting. When he’d come back from France, all he’d been able to tell them were some superficial details about architecture he’d noticed as they’d been driven around, and the meal they’d had at the restaurant.

“I might go to Graceland, though,” he said. “Kind of got to, don’t you, when you’re in Memphis.”

Josh shrugged.

“What? You mean you haven’t been, all the times you’ve played here?”

“It’s like a monument to how he ended up, not to all the music he made. The place was a mausoleum even when he was alive. I hate the whole idea.” The sudden tautness in Josh’s body bore out just how much he hated the idea.

Ryan nodded slowly. “Guess I didn’t think of it like that,” he said, which was both true and also, hopefully, neutral enough that it wouldn’t cause Josh to tense up further.

“It’s not just he was lonely, you know. It’s that everyone knows it. How fucking humiliating must that have been?” Josh’s voice was rough.

Ryan nodded again and was careful not to look at Josh.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Josh said with determined cheeriness, “Brad
has
told you about all the promotional crap we get to do before the next round of the Davis Cup, hasn’t he?”

“That’d be a no,” Ryan said. “You going to break it to me?”

He ended up not sure how much Josh was teasing him and how much was true about public training sessions, sponsored ice baths, and playing tennis with members of the public and letting them win. He was beginning to think Tommy hadn’t done the decent thing by backing out of the rest of this year after all, saying Ryan should continue on the team after his success in France.