‘Natalya, where’s your boyfriend? I just read he might be traded to Buffalo. That sucks! You must be devastated.’ Charlie said it with as much faux sympathy as she could muster.
Natalya’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘This is the life of a professional athlete, no? Go where they tell you. We can’t all be lucky enough to be screwing someone who plays our own sport.’
Charlie beamed. ‘Yeah, I definitely recommend it,’ she said. ‘It’s just so much more convenient. But I’m happy you met Benjy. Everyone always talks about what meatheads football players are, but he seems like a really nice guy.’
‘Where is he tonight?’ Jake asked as he walked up beside Charlie. ‘I assumed he’d be here, since we’re in his home city.’
Natalya turned to glare at Jake. ‘You think he wants to come to another of these parties? I’ll see him later.’
Marco stepped in the middle of the awkward threesome. ‘Ladies? Jake? I’m saying good night,’ he said. He kissed Natalya’s cheek and followed it up with a peck on the corner of Charlie’s mouth.
‘That must be your cue, too,’ Natalya said to Charlie, waving expansively. ‘Don’t you two just make the cutest couple. Couldn’t have planned it better if you tried.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Charlie asked.
But Natalya had already turned to greet a bevy of college-aged guys who were on the tour as hitting partners for the women. Dan had been invited to the party but, as always, he declined.
Jake pulled gently on Charlie’s arm. ‘You sure you don’t want to ride back with Marco?’ he asked.
‘I’m sure. I’m playing first thing tomorrow. Let’s go.’
Jake hesitated, and Charlie peered at him. ‘Jake? You have something going on, don’t you? Who’s your target?’
He snorted, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile. Her brother always looked his most handsome in one of his fitted dark suits with a white shirt open at the neck. He wasn’t conventionally gorgeous like Marco, but his height combined with his obsessively excellent grooming – neat, trendy beard; perfectly maintained tan; longish hair professionally trimmed every twenty-one days – made him attractive to men and women alike. When he wasn’t working, Jake tended toward skinny-fit jeans with cashmere hoodies. Oversized black frames and one of his million pairs of vintage Nikes kept him looking like he could be anyone from a trendy gay Chelsea guy to a cool, youngish Park Slope dad. Charlie wondered yet again why he wasn’t dating someone terrific.
‘Target? Aren’t you sweet. Like I have to attack someone to get him into bed.’
‘Not exactly what I said, but hey, if that’s how it is …’
Charlie followed Jake’s gaze to Natalya. He was studying her intently as she air-kissed the starstruck college boys who flocked to her whenever and wherever they had the chance. Even from across the room, it was hard not to watch her.
‘She’s enough to make you think women aren’t so bad, huh?’
‘Oh, stop it, Charlie!’ Jake snapped. He was headed toward the door before Charlie could respond, and she didn’t think she could have been more surprised if he’d turned around and punched her. Nothing upset Jake, ever. Certainly not Natalya Ivanov.
They rode back to the hotel together in silence. Charlie patiently waited for him to apologize or explain, but when they walked into the lobby, he muttered that he’d see her at the site the next day and disappeared into the elevator without waiting. She peeked into the lobby bar, hoping to bump into Marco while knowing full well that he was already in his room and probably asleep, before heading to her own room and getting undressed. She set her phone alarm and confirmed her wake-up call with the front desk and then climbed under the covers and turned off all the lights. She lay perfectly still on her back, arms and legs outstretched, palms facing up, and breathed. Four counts inhale and four counts exhale, until she felt her entire body begin to relax. It had been a great night, better than she’d even expected. She and Marco were officially a couple, at least as far as the public knew. Inhale, exhale. Her new coach had her on track to climb the rankings, and it seemed to be working. Inhale, long exhale. Her opponent the next day would be tough, because at this level they all were, but Charlie felt a rare calm and a complete confidence that she would soundly beat the girl and go on to advance in the tournament. Inhale, exhale. Everything was in alignment. This was her time.
11
bedazzled
KEY BISCAYNE, MARCH 2016
The Key Biscayne players’ lounge boasted a huge roped-off patio flanked on all sides by palm trees and giant windows. As the early-morning light poured in, Charlie once again thought how lucky she was to have a career that followed the sun.
‘All my men await, I see,’ Charlie said, nodding hello to Dan and Todd and kissing Jake on the cheek.
‘Why are you just staring at your phone like an asshole?’ Todd yelled at Dan while staring at his own phone. ‘Take her bag to the locker room and tell the attendant we’ll be ready for a stretching room in ten minutes.’ Dan reached over for Charlie’s racket bag and immediately headed downstairs.
The lounge, usually packed with players and coaches draped across the leather couches, staring at their phones and iPads, was virtually empty this early: only Gael Monfils and his coach sat in the corner, drinking what looked like hot water and lemon, and a teenage girl that Charlie recognized as a wild card was asleep on a chaise longue wearing sweats and a pair of hot-pink Beats headphones. The flat-screen TVs mounted on nearly every vertical surface showed mostly empty courts. Some doubles players were warming up on Court 4, and Charlie’s opponent was beginning to stretch on Court 7, but otherwise all was quiet.
‘She’s here early,’ Charlie said, nodding to her opponent on the screen.
‘You would be, too, if you were ranked in the seventies. She knows she’s going to lose, but be ready for her to put up a good fight. Watch the drop shots. She’s surprisingly skilled with them,’ Todd said, never looking up from his phone.
‘You feeling a little better today?’ Charlie asked Jake. He, too, was staring at his phone.
Both Jake’s and Todd’s devices beeped.
‘They’re ready for us,’ both men simultaneously announced.
‘Who’s “they”?’