The Singles Game
Page 83

‘You’re going to beat her easily. I know you are. Just forget everything about last year – the grass, the slip, the sneakers, the whole thing – and focus on hammering your return-of-serve and forcing her to come in. Her service game is weak, and yours has never been better. You’ll break her early and often, I’m sure of it. You’ve got this.’ Dan’s tone was urgent, and when Charlie looked up, he was death-gripping his racket like he might break it in half.
‘You really think so?’
‘I know so. You’re hitting great, Charlie. Better than I’ve seen you hit all year.’
Charlie was about to thank him when Todd hung up the phone. ‘Do an hour in the gym before you break for lunch. Then I want you back out here with Dan and that chick – what’s her name? The young one? Eleanor. And her hitting partner. You’re scheduled to share the court at three. None of us have time for stupid mental shit now, so we’re going to beat this anxiety right out of you. Got it?’
Charlie and Dan nodded. Todd strode off the court.
Before Charlie could feel sorry for herself, Dan reached over and gently placed his palm atop her forearm. She froze. Had he ever touched her before? It felt so strangely intimate. ‘Charlie? Just so you know, I think—’
‘Ah, look who it is!’ A voice rang out. Dan yanked his arm away as Marco strode onto the court. He looked beautiful: strong, tall, and tan in his tennis whites, and he was smiling at Charlie as though she were the best part of his day. In a flash he was standing in front of her, pulling her up from the bench, and kissing her on the mouth while Dan, Marco’s coach, and another men’s player and his coach all tried not to watch.
‘How lucky am I?’ he asked, and Charlie wanted to hate him, but of course she didn’t.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Whoa, someone is a little sweaty, no?’ Marco said, backpedaling, his hands held up in an exaggerated stop motion.
‘She just hit for two hours. What do you expect?’ Dan asked, his tone openly hostile.
Everyone was quiet for a moment before Marco laughed. Not nicely. ‘Amigo, can I ask you a huge favor? Can you run my rackets to the stringing room? They need to be there before one, but I’m on the court now until two. Cool?’ He flung his racket bag toward Dan, kissed Charlie again, and trotted to the baseline while the others followed.
Charlie watched Dan flush red as he packed up his own bag and slung both his and Marco’s over his shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, moving quickly to keep up with him. ‘That was uncalled-for.’
‘It’s fine,’ Dan said, although his voice suggested otherwise. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to the gym. It’s on the way to the stringing room.’
Maybe it was seeing Dan treated so badly but after walking in silence for a bit, Charlie blurted out, ‘What are you doing tonight? I have lights-out at nine but do you maybe want to come with me to Austria House? They have some celebrity chef cooking dinner tonight. Have you ever heard of Andre Alexander?’
‘Seriously? He’s there? Tonight?’
‘Yes, and only for, like, twenty people, but I’m sure they won’t mind if I bring you. What do you say?’
Dan appeared to consider it.
‘What, will you miss the hop-on hop-off tour of London? Or an organized pub crawl of all the best fish ’n’ chips places? Or maybe it’s a visit to the set of Downton Abbey? Come on, fess up, I know you have some culturally enriching plan for the night …’
Dan laughed.
‘Tell me!’ she squealed, and poked him in the side.
‘I was just going to make a quick visit to the Lawn Tennis Museum. They have late hours tonight. But a meal from Andre Alexander sounds way better.’
‘The Lawn Tennis Museum? Please tell me you’re kidding.’
Dan blushed. ‘I know, I know. It’s a stretch, even for me.’ They had reached the entrance to the gym when Charlie’s phone began to ring.
‘Hello?’ she answered, once again cursing the lack of caller ID.
‘Charlie?’ Marco’s voice boomed through the phone. Dan looked at the ground but didn’t make a move to leave.
‘Yes?’
‘I have to get back to practice. Just wanted to tell you that we’re going to Austria House for dinner tonight. Andre Alexander’s cooking. It’s going to be incredible.’
‘Marco, I, uh …’ She could feel her face get hot, but before she could say anything, Dan leaned over and whispered, ‘Go with him, Charlie. Seriously, don’t think twice. I actually forgot about other plans I had for tonight, so I can’t make it anyway. I’ll see you at three, okay?’
Charlie watched as he jogged away.
‘Charlie?’ Marco sounded annoyed. ‘Meet me there at six. Ciao, ciao.’ And the call disconnected.
When Charlie opened her eyes the next morning, she woke with a fire she hadn’t felt in months. Wimbledon. She was proud of herself for skipping the Austria House dinner the night before and staying in bed – she’d had nearly eleven hours of sleep and she felt great. Marco’s text wondering where she was hadn’t hurt either. Two hours later, she put Strasser away in straight sets. Efficiently, and with intention. Even Todd had praised her.
Next up was Veronica Kulyk, a Ukrainian girl who’d only recently started playing professionally and was currently ranked twenty-fourth in the world. Charlie met Veronica in the locker room, where they watched the match that preceded their own on overhead screens.
‘I cannot believe I am playing the semifinals of Wimbledon!’ Veronica said, not bothering to hide her excitement. ‘It is something I have thought about for so long, it is so strange to think it is happening.’
Veronica’s blond bun was secured so tightly to the back of her crown that it pulled the skin around her eyes taut. It made her look even younger, Charlie thought.
‘Don’t worry, the crowd is lovely here. All golf claps.’ Charlie wanted to be polite, but she was also going through her own pre-match checklist. No fear. No hesitation. No worries about the grass.
And then Veronica began to cry. It began with a few small tears and some delicate sniffling, but soon Veronica was convulsing with sobs. Charlie fought the urge to hug her. She could hear Todd in her head: No mercy! This is not your friend. Focus on your own goddamn game!