This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

by M.B. Gerard

Copyright © 2012, M.B. Gerard

For R.L.

Shout-outs

to Dory Turner for everything,

to Catherine Prendergast,

to Stevo, Sian-Marie and Ariane,

to S&S.

Love is a game

that two can play

and both win.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               – Eva Gabor

Prologue
Ready? Play!
Mother’s Finest
Eavesdropping On The Heart
Revelations
A Change Is Gonna Come
Keeping Up With The Januses
Ad Ventures And Break Points
When In Rome...
De Point En Point
Serving A Love Game
On A Secret Mission
Dog & Fox
Let’s Have A Ball
Double Trouble
Beneath The Moon And Under The Stars
Between The Lines
Break, Make And Hold
Have Your Body Serve And Eat It, Too
Walking A Fine Line
Blood, Punch And Tears

The Tampa airport looked magnified in its clean emptiness. As always at 4 A.M., Elise Renard thought. Nothing to worry about. She knew it was only the silent terminal and its covered-up restlessness that triggered her own concealed agitation. She wished to push it away like she pushed the trolley in front of her but she couldn’t help feeling the undeniable inanity of her doings. Again she set out for another season on the tennis tour. Again she set out for another attempt to get back where she used to be when she made a splash in the tennis world two years ago.

Get back to where you belong. Rick Salieri, her mentor, had tried to drum the words into her during the off-season weeks she had spent at his tennis academy, but Elise wasn’t so sure anymore if she could make it back, let alone to the very top. During the time she was away nursing her knee all her peers had been making huge steps up the ranking, while she had to witness her ranking tumbling down week after week. But she hadn’t given up when the doctors had told her the bad news. Instead she had worked meticulously to get her body in shape again, and as soon as the doctors gave her the word she had begun training with the same burning ambition and focus as she had before her injury. Of course, she could get back to the top. She hadn’t lost any of her skills or her drive. She only had to win some matches along the way to get back where she belonged and this had proven to be rather difficult since she had started on the tour again in October.

As often as she had repeated Rick’s words over the last months like an old mantra something else had begun to occupy her mind. A tiny fact which – apparently and strangely enough – seemed invisible to everyone else. However, she herself was well aware of it. Slowed down by her knee injury she had enough time during long hours of physiotherapy and involuntary idleness to get a clearer picture of herself. The injury time-out had triggered a new self-awareness, and yet she didn’t know what to do with this new-found clarity, nor the following turmoil of emotions that now lurked around every corner of her soul.

This odd feeling of belonging nowhere, her inability to win more than two matches in a row as well as the nagging thought that she might get injured again had driven a small, yet painful thorn into her optimism. After witnessing her ranking drop below the Top 100 and finding herself in the chasms of challenger tournaments, she dreaded the thought that another injury might end her tennis ambitions for good.

She also thought about her parents who had given up so much so she could pursue her dreams and who both worked hard for her success. She gave the trolley another angry push. No, she wouldn’t let her doubts get the better of her. Instead she would get back where she belonged and she would prove to herself that she could make it. Not just on the tennis court – but in life. Because her tennis career could be over in a second and there was a part of her soul that was craving for new experiences which had nothing to do with fuzzy, yellow balls. She had to be open to adventure. And why shouldn’t she give it a go, if a chance ever came along? Suddenly she felt excited about the new year. She turned around to her parents who walked behind her pushing an additional trolley with several huge bags piled on top of it. They had stopped in front of the security gate.

“Don’t get pouched by a kangaroo,” Elise’s mother said, when she hugged her daughter tightly, and Elise began to miss her already. Her mother would stay at home in Florida and would join them later when the tour hit American soil again in Indian Wells.

“No,” Elise mumbled, fighting back tears. Then she broke free of the embrace and quickly turned to the waiting security officer. Behind the security gate she turned around to look at her parents. They were saying good-bye to each other outside the gate. Elise had nobody to smile at like that, and at this moment when she realized she wanted someone to smile at with all her heart.

***

The sun was shining, sliding along the court to embrace the lines and the net in the peculiar way Lynn Pebblestone had grown to love over the years.

The umpire made her way down the stairs and entering through the gate at the bottom, she stepped onto the court and took a look around. On the other side of the court two players and their teams were packing their bags having just finished a practice session. She waved to them and they waved back with smiles on their faces, before Lynn turned to the high chair that would be her work place for the next week. She enjoyed the respectful, friendly relationship between the umpires and the players. However, they usually stuck to their respective groups.

The beginning of the season had a special flair to it which Lynn cherished and which reminded her of her own beginnings on the tour back in the 1980s. The excitement of the players getting out on the court again was palpable. After weeks of grinding practice and fitness exercise the girls displayed the skittishness of racing horses. Lynn enjoyed seeing them flocking in one by one. It felt like they were hitting the road to a summer camp. It was in fact a ten-month summer camp moving all around the world and all of the players – some more than others – had a moment when they let loose and misbehaved exactly like the young folks they were. Behind the scenes of the players’ parties, where the cameras were not allowed to roll, was the place where the good stories originated.

It was these stories that kept the summer camp alive and buzzing. Moreover, they were the natural resource for the Love Game, as it was called. Lynn and some other umpires played it every year. They would pick several players and guessed who they would end up with. Every umpire had four guesses, the Grand Slams of the Love Game. Over the years Lynn had made it to her very own No. 1 ranking having won the title thirteen times. She was the queen of the Love Game.

This year she had already placed her bets for the 2011 season and even though she had chosen a combination of players that were highly unlikely to ever make it she would chance it. If she was right and no other umpire had made the same pick it could be another successful year for her. No risk, no fun, Lynn thought and closing the little gate of the court she'd just inspected she headed to the next one on her survey tour.

***

Looking outside the airplane window Elise watched the sun rise over the airport field. While other passengers were edging through to their seats, her father stuffed the last item of luggage into the overhead compartment and sitting down next to her he squeezed her right shoulder. She gave him a quick smile but then turned back to the window. The plane began to roll on the tarmac and for a while Elise tried to listen to the flight attendant’s safety instructions. But knowing them by heart she fell back into brooding.

She needed distraction from her wandering thoughts. As soon as the plane was airborne Elise got up and pulled out her trolley case from the baggage compartment. But the moment she opened her suitcase she felt her heart skip a beat. Elise was looking at two carefully packed heaps of training shorts and tops. Apparently she had mixed up her bags at the counter and had checked-in the trolley case with her hand luggage.

What had she been thinking? Well, she didn’t know anymore what she’d been thinking. She sighed. She couldn’t even tell what went wrong and why. How could she expect to win any matches if she was distracted so easily by – well, by what exactly? She didn’t know.

Now her hand luggage with her laptop, her books and clothes to change into were buried in the airplane belly. Sheepishly she closed the lid again, about to haul the bag up to the luggage compartment when she felt something bulky in the front pocket. She opened the zipper and pulled out a copy of Tennis Nurse.

Agnes, her friend from France, had lent her the cheesy novel two months ago at the end of her last tournament. Elise had begun reading it around Christmas time and had found the writing awfully over the top and the characters unbearably corny. After five pages she had given up, left it underneath the bed and had forgotten about it. This morning, just when she was about to switch off the lights in her bedroom, leaving it tidy and quiescent for the next month, she remembered the book Agnes had gone into raptures about. Her friend would decapitate her with a furious swing of her racquet, if she didn’t get her book back. In a hurry Elise had grabbed it from under the bed and had stuffed it into the next best suitcase.

Now she had nothing else to do during a fifteen hour journey to Australia. She took a look at the front cover again. Tennis Nurse and The Girl Who Preferred The Grass. This was ridiculous. Who would write such nonsense? The author’s name was clearly a pseudonym and it was probably the best two words this woman had ever come up with. Elise chuckled. She opened the first page and began to read.

Perth, Australia

The sun, the earth, the water disappearing in the sink – everything on this continent moved in the wrong direction.

Standing over the sink and watching the water run, Robyn Lawrence quite literally saw her prospects of having a grand Hopman Cup going down the drain. He had brought his girlfriend. Since when did he have a girlfriend? And why was she so beautiful and sweet? And funny. And nice. At least, she looked like that from a distance when Robyn had witnessed Ted and his new girl giving an interview. Robyn looked at herself in the mirror frowning. And why must there be a terribly red pimple on her nose? And not to mention the horrible dress she had to wear for the party a day ago. To make things worse there was not one Top Shop to be seen in miles to save the day. This really was the outback. She had no idea how to endure a whole press conference next to Teddy.

In October she had received the invitation for the prestigious mixed doubles tournament and she had been terribly excited. Moreover, she was delighted to hear it was Teddy whom she would partner with. Not only was he the No. 8 player of the ATP tour, more important for Robyn was the fact that he possessed masterful dancing skills as he had demonstrated at last year’s Winners Ball at Wimbledon, when she was the Junior Champion and was granted a dance with the dashing British runner-up. Their lucky pairing at the Hopman Cup promised a replay at one of the special events in the evening.

But most of all she had really looked forward to the time spent with him away from the tennis events. Ted Curry had quite a reputation and Australia seemed to bring out the worst in him – which promised a really good time in Robyn's book. She had hoped he would take her along and introduce her to the Aussie night life. But now he seemed constantly preoccupied with his new girlfriend.

With a loud bang the door opened and Amy, one of the cheerful Australian volunteers peeped inside.

“Are you coming?” she asked. Apparently this twenty-something was getting paid by the ITF to ruin the rare moments of quietude Robyn tried to squeeze in, while constantly sporting a big, sunny smile. How Robyn hated sunny, smiling twenty-something girls from Australia! Ted’s new girl was from Melbourne. She had found out by talking to one of the journalists after Ted's interview. So she’d probably be around for the whole Australian Open which started in two weeks. Great. Fantastic. Nothing she could do about it, Robyn concluded. There was just one way to live through the pain, as her good friend Gemma Heffington once wisely said: Keep calm and party on. Reluctantly, Robyn followed Amy through the hallway into the media center. With a big grin the Australian girl pushed her into one of the press conference rooms. It was already filling with reporters and photographers, and in the far end she could make out the dashing figure of Ted Curry.             

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Robyn muttered. She took a deep breath and walked to the table in the front.

***

“Time,” Lynn said.

Sitting high above the court the chair umpire pressed the button of the microphone. Yelena Kovalenko from the Ukraine and Sasha Mrachova of the Czech Republic headed to the baselines.

Yelena was a hard hitting lefty who was able and willing to come to the net to finish the points in magnificent fashion. She also had a sense of drama, amusing the audience with ridiculous challenges, when she believed a call had gone against her. Not only the audience enjoyed the entertainment, Lynn had to admit, even though her face would never reveal her delight when Yelena threw one of her tantrums over a bad challenge.

On the other side Sasha gave the ball boy her towel and accepted the balls he handed her. The Czech was only twenty-five years of age but considered already a veteran player as she had won two Grand Slams so far. However, it was four years now since she had won her last major title. After nagging shoulder injuries her serve was past its prime and most experts would have said, so was she.              

Waiting for the server to choose the right balls Lynn allowed herself a look at the stands and noticed a familiar player with flaming red hair sitting down quickly in a chair in the upper stands – Amanda Auster, a Top 10 player from Australia. Playing in two different groups in the group stage of the tournament the Australians would have to play the Czechs until the final. If they made it to the final. And if they made it there, there was only small hope that the Australian team could take home this title. As if Amanda’s struggle to play in front of the home crowd wasn’t distressing enough she had a terrible record against Sasha. The Australian had never even won a set against the tall brunette from the Czech Republic.

More than once Lynn had chosen the Australian redhead as one of her girls in the Love Game and it had proven costly. Whenever Lynn had given Amanda another chance in the Love Game she had lost the title. Amanda never ended up with the girls the umpire had predicted. Mostly she stayed alone or was really good at keeping her relationships private. There had never been players’ party stories about Amanda and most of Lynn's colleagues considered her boring and had never chosen her for the Love Game, nevertheless Lynn liked Amanda. The Australian was one of the nicest players on tour. She was also a pleasure to watch on the court with her strong serve and impeccable forehand. She had entered the Top 10 two years ago and if it wasn't for the Australian season she'd even have a Top 3 ranking, the umpire concluded.

Lynn turned her concentration back to the match. Sasha had taken the first set from the older Ukrainian, but now Yelena was fighting back in formidable fashion. With her volleys she forced Sasha to move to the net, where the Czech never looked too good and if Sasha reached the ball the Ukrainian would lob her. Whenever she could Sasha tried to dominate the game with her groundstrokes. She hit them hard and flat and close to the lines. It was a battle between two very different players, which made the match even more breathtaking. After over an hour the players had leveled the score at 6 all.

“Tiebreak,” Lynn announced.

Even if Sasha seemed like the better player throughout the match, in the second set her first serve was deserting her more and more. Her weak second serve was attackable, and there was a good chance for Yelena to take the match into a third and deciding set.

For the tiebreak the players were granted an extra challenge, and in Yelena’s case this was much needed. Her previous attempts had turned out to be unsuccessful. She had to start the tiebreak with only two challenges left, including the extra challenge the players received after twelve games. During the tiebreak Yelena used one of her challenges at the score of 3-2 when she had hit a forehand cross-court. A lines person had called the ball out and Lynn had confirmed it after Yelena had asked. However, the Ukrainian had challenged the call nevertheless. It had been the wrong decision. Even though she had lost the point, she had fought back and Sasha’s double fault at 5 all had handed Yelena a set point. After another lengthy exchange of shots Sasha’s shot seemed to be wide but there was no call. Yelena played the ball but raised her hand immediately afterwards and nodded at Lynn to indicate she would challenge the shot which she thought the line umpire had incorrectly seen as in. After fighting so hard in the second set, after coming through such tight games, the Ukrainian was not willing to give this tiebreak and the match to Sasha. With the crowd joining the excitement when the video screen showed a slow-motion replay of the ball, challenges set off a wave of adrenalin in the crowd as well as the players. It was 6-5 for Yelena and if she challenged correctly Lynn would have had the ball replayed.

But the ball was in. It had caught the line by a tiny margin. The crowd roared in excitement and Lynn called the score at 6 all. In frustration Yelena swung her racquet and smashed it onto the ground. It bounced back right into her hand. It was a motion the Ukrainian used so often on court it had become her trademark move whenever things went against her. She definitely was feeling the pressure mounting on her shoulders now. In silence she headed to her chair. Lynn was sure that, more than any bad shot, it was this bad challenge that would decide the match in the end, and she was right. Two points later the tiebreak was over. Sasha Mrachova decided her first match of the season with two brilliant forehand winners. With the voice that never gave away her feelings, Lynn called the final score and began thinking of the match ahead of her.

***

Whether the injury was serious or not the physiotherapist couldn’t tell yet. But the ankle was swollen like a balloon and it didn't look like it should bear the slightest weight.

Elise Renard was sitting in the small infirmary next to the center court and observing the clock above the door. When would a doctor come and give them a diagnosis? After waiting another five minutes she finally got up and walked into the treatment room where her German partner Christoph Franke was lying on a  bench. He was covering his face with his hands and his coach was pressing a bag of ice against his injured ankle.

It had happened during their practice. They were trying out different combinations and doubles tactics when Franke made a quick step backwards to reach for an over-head smash and thereby twisted his right ankle. Sitting down on the ground immediately he had reached out for his foot and carefully moved the joint. When he finally looked up to Elise and his coach he had a desperate look in his eyes. Sometimes a player just knew without the expertise of a doctor that the injury was serious. Elise’s heart had sunk. Not only because she knew how Christoph had to feel as she had experienced it herself, but also because a serious injury meant that Christoph wouldn’t be able to play the tournament. What would she do then, as this was a team competition?

“How does it feel?” Elise asked her partner, hoping that her words sounded cheerful. Christoph lifted his hands and managed to give her a quick smile.

“Terrible,” he answered.

In that moment a doctor came in and Elise decided it was best to leave the room again. She gave Christoph a little pat on the shoulder and walked to the door only to bump into the tournament director who rushed into the infirmary with a very worried look on his face.

***

Judging from the pastiness of the journalists’ skin, they were collectively shipped here straight from cold Blighty to follow the British tennis phenomenon Robyn had become last year and, of course, Top 10 player Ted Curry. Not a bad assignment one would think. However, they all looked gloomy and tired. And judging from their questions they were all jetlagged or perhaps just simple-minded.

Except for one guy seated on the right side. He was quite good-looking and even though he had a slight sunburn there was something about him that excited Robyn. He was wearing surf trunks and a scruffy t-shirt. His clothes clearly set him apart from all the other scribblers and with his reddish, disheveled curls he gave the impression of an Aussie surfer out of water. Footloose somehow, but with maturity. Robyn imagined him travelling the world with a backpack and a surfboard under his arm. What was someone like him doing at a tennis tournament? He had to be a journalist to get accreditation for the press conference, but Robyn had never seen him on the tour before and so far he hadn’t asked a thing. He just looked up occasionally at her and Ted. Then typed words into his laptop. She hoped he would ask her a question. She hoped she could think of a witty answer. Perhaps he would come up after the presser for a little chat. Suddenly, Robyn didn’t feel so frustrated any more. After all, at twenty-five, Ted was a tad too immature, she thought.

After ten minutes of boredom the good-looking surfer dude raised his hand. Robyn’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced around the room checking if there was anyone else who wanted to ask a question but the journalists seemed to have communally fallen asleep. She was about to give the guy a nod. But Teddy was faster.

“Yes!” He gave the surfer a smile. The reporter smiled back and addressed Teddy.

“Teddy, you seemed to have had a good time tonight. Can we expect more of this pairing?” Robyn turned around to Ted while watching the good-looking reporter from the corner of her eye.

“No, absolutely not,” Ted answered with a straight face. “You see, she hasn’t even run back for one lob yet. I honestly tried to encourage her to do that but I am not sure she’s one who listens to advice.”

There was some snickering in the back. Robyn needed to think of words quickly.

“That’s just the way our relationship is,” she said to the wild-haired reporter. “I don’t listen to blokes who refuse to moisturize their hands. That’s why he spanked me in the second set with that return.”

Ted had redirected a serve by their opponents right onto her butt. It would show tomorrow. With all the bickering going on in front the crowd was waking up. More importantly, the reporter gave her a glorious smile. But Teddy was about to counterattack.

“No,” Ted retorted with a sly smile, “that shot was for coordinating our outfits in matching colors.”

The reporters were now tittering and winking at each other. Robyn didn’t care. The redhead moved forward in his chair to ask another question.

“Robyn, what will you take from the evening? From your point of view, which particular aspect of your game needs improvement?”

Robyn was thinking quickly. As a young player every part of her game needed improvement, but she had hit a couple of good points, especially one fun shot – a between-the-leg shot – that had gained her loud applause by the spectators when it went in and won the British pair a game.

“Besides a moisturizing partner, I would say, my hot dog in particular. It’s a shot I intend to use more often as my answer to lobs.”

The room was roaring with laughter. Hands raised to the air. This press conference had become a blast. Robyn smiled, while the long-haired reporter leaned back and enjoyed the rest of the show. When it was over, the guy left quickly but not without flashing a smile in Robyn’s direction.

Stepping through the player’s exit of the media center into the night air, Robyn gave Ted Curry a huge grin.

“That was fun,” he said smiling back at her. “May I take the liberty of taking you out tonight. I know where to get you a hot dog.”

“Thank you, Ted, but I have found a hot dog myself! I don’t think yours will be as hot.”

“Then you take me out, darling. I think we have the same taste after all!”

***

It was the first match on the second day of the tournament and the first singles match for the Australian team and the stands were packed with fans.

Amanda Auster sat down on her chair. She had just broken Tamara Parova with two excellent inside-out forehand winners. Was this the beginning of one of Tamara’s massive chokes? Amanda could not hope for it. She was still one set down and trailing 3-4 in the second set. She needed to stay focused. If she could win this singles match there might be a good chance for the Australian team to get a lead in the group stage of the tournament and perhaps advance to the final of the Hopman Cup, given the fact that she and her male partner Angus Leslie were both known for their doubles skills.

But there was a distraction she couldn’t get out of her head. A glance to the left into the front row of the stands confirmed what she already knew. There was this blonde beauty smiling at her. Constantly. Who was this girl? Had they met before? Amanda shook her head. Business before pleasure, she told herself while sipping from her water bottle. She knew, it would make her even more nervous to think of the blonde girl. Instead she precautionarily began making a Top 10 list in her head of her favorite restaurants, which were scattered all over the world. It worked – for a minute at least. Now she craved for just one hour in Mr. Mochi’s restaurant in Tokyo which always ended up on the top of the list. But the good times she had in Japan last year were far away now. Moreover, food was considered compensation anyway, as her psychologist had informed her. Amanda sighed.

In the next game she had to serve with this blonde girl’s eyes on her back. It would be an annoying distraction. Playing in Perth, in front of her home crowd already made her feel tight. Ever since she had started to play on the tour over ten years ago the Australian season had never been successful for her. The crowd’s expectations and cheering had never helped her. Instead it put more pressure on her than she ever felt for the rest of the year. This was the reason why last fall her team had come up with the idea to accept the invitation for the Hopman Cup once more. In the tournament mixed teams from eight different countries were playing against each other and every round consisted of two singles matches and a doubles match. It was team work to go further in the Hopman Cup as it involved playing doubles. Amanda was good in doubles. Really good. Sometimes she even won Grand Slams.

But even though playing with a partner could take some of the pressure off her shoulders, she knew that doubles didn’t count anymore. Amanda wanted to reach the top of the singles game. But losing the first match of the year wouldn’t help her achieve that goal. She exhaled and got up to walk to the baseline. She just had to get through the Australian tennis summer and then she'd feel better. Usually she tried to avoid looking at the crowd as it made her nervous to see the anxious faces, but this time Amanda turned her head and glanced into the front row. It seemed the blonde had never even looked away from Amanda. It seemed she was following Amanda’s every step and when they locked eyes for a second the blonde girl winked at her. Quickly Amanda looked away and nodded to a ball boy to throw her new balls. She needed to concentrate or she could kiss the match good-bye.

Tossing the ball up in the air, she went for a heavily sliced serve out wide. Too wide. Second serve. If there was one part of her game she could rely on with eyes closed it was her second serve. It kicked up high and was a problem for most of her opponents. But not this time. Tamara smacked it back to Amanda’s backhand. She could reach it but her ball went straight into the net. Back at the baseline Amanda turned around to the ball boy to receive new balls. She glanced up to the front row and almost missed catching the ball that was thrown at her. The girl’s seat was empty. The blonde had left in the middle of Amanda's game.

For the next two minutes Amanda felt as if she was in a slow motion haze. She simply couldn’t concentrate anymore. She shanked the ball twice into the stands and double faulted at 0-40 handing the game to a satisfied Tamara. Up a double break at 5-3 the Russian seemed to have gained confidence. Even though Amanda would save a match point with the game going to deuce multiple times, it was Tamara who smacked a scorching backhand cross-court to make the final shot of the match.

***

Elise was piling her clothes thoroughly on her bed after she had picked them up from the laundry. Over the years on the tennis tour she had developed her own system of packing and unpacking her bags without getting her belongings too mixed up. In the beginning she had lost or forgotten things in the hotel rooms, and the following fruitless search for them in the next city and the eventual realization she would never see them again had made her optimize her packing procedures.

Within twenty minutes her bags and suitcases were ready. Only the Tennis Nurse novel was still lying on her bed. Elise checked her watch. There were perhaps ten minutes left to finish the next chapter. She had read about half of the book, most of it on the plane to Australia. However, the more she had read the more she had realized how delicate the content was and after a while she began to wait until her father had fallen asleep before she pulled the novel out of her bag. She didn’t want him to ask about the book with the blatant, colorful cover.

Lying back on her bed she opened the book and began to read. Jane, the nurse and main character, was hurrying to the Wimbledon infirmary. One of the top players had gotten injured and needed immediate assistance. Of course, no one knew that Jane was having a fervid affair with the player. Elise turned the page and was just about to witness the encounter between Jane and her love interest in the empty infirmary when a knock on the door brought her back to reality. Elise stuffed the book into her bag and opened the door. Her father was waiting with a hotel trolley to load up Elise’s suitcases. Their flight to Brisbane was in two hours.

Within a day the Hopman Cup had made a deal with the Brisbane tournament, which would exchange two of its players for Elise. She had gotten a last-minute Wild Card into the tournament along with a lucky Australian fellow, while French players Morgana Doré and Philippe Montis were on their way to Perth. They had probably gotten a good deal of money for their spontaneous cooperation while Elise had a chance to pick up well-needed ranking points in Brisbane. Even though playing the Hopman Cup was a good way to start the year and she had felt honored to be invited again, she couldn't have gained points for the WTA ranking as the Hopman Cup was a tournament held by the International Tennis Federation.

It was luck. And maybe a little bit of luck was all she needed at the moment.

***

It was already getting dark when Amanda left the building with Dan Metic, her coach. After she had lost her match, Angus had won his match and which team would come out on top had to be decided by the doubles match. They had lost it – badly. Amanda had felt she had to do especially well in the doubles. The pressure she had put on herself was too much and she had gotten tight losing her service games twice in the first set and also in the second. After the disappointment she decided to hit for another half hour to let off steam. It usually helped. Her team could still win the next round and with some luck get to the first place in their group to reach the final.

“Will you come over?”

Dan stayed at a friend’s family’s house twenty minutes from the site, and it was good fun to catch up with them. But today Amanda felt more like an evening in front of her hotel room TV. She declined the offer, said good-bye to Dan and began walking over to the car park to get a driver.

The pavement was still hot and she could feel the heat through her slippers warming her feet. The flowers along the footpath effused a scent even sweeter than during the day. Or perhaps she just never became aware of these things in the bright sunlight. Her days were generally busy and meticulously scheduled by her team. There was no time to smell flowers, to relax her feet on the warm earth. No time to dream. She sighed, annoyed with her own thoughts. Dreaming wasn’t a good keyword at all. She had had the match on her racquet. She knew Tamara was about to choke, and then she had given away her own service game to love.

To love. Again, not a good keyword. Stupid, she scolded herself. Plain stupid. How could she get so sidetracked by a pretty face in the crowd? Moreover, she wasn’t given anything back. Nothing. Nada. Love, to speak in tennis terms. Yes, she got a lot of love today on the court, but no love off the court. She shouldn’t mix up these two. Business before pleasure? Now she had none of it.

She almost missed the junction that led to the car park and had to make a sharp turn. Feeling grumpier by the minute she kicked a stone with her sandal. To her surprise it flew high into the air. Following the trajectory she looked over the parked cars and there she was, only twenty feet away – the girl from the match. Leaning playfully against a red roadster.

“You.”

Amanda didn’t know how to feel. This woman had cost her the match by leaving at a pivotal moment. And now she was back smiling at her. Had she been waiting for her?

“Hey,” the tall blonde said with a smile. “You finished your practice. Good. I’ve been waiting for two hours.”

There you go, Amanda thought. But her voice was quite lovely, she had to admit.

“Do we know each other?”

“Not yet.”

The blonde girl opened the passenger door and gestured to Amanda to hop in. Was this a joke? Amanda suddenly felt certain she was on Candid Camera. But then again, was that show still on? With only two months per year spent in Australia she was completely out of touch with the TV shows here. Well, if it was some sort of Candid Camera show – this much she knew – she had to play along. She smiled sheepishly, looking around for the hidden cameras and took a step toward the car. The girl replied with a huge smile. They got into the car and with a flick of the wrist the girl started the roaring engine and sped out of the parking lot.

“Are you going to tell me your name and our destination?” Amanda glanced over waiting for an answer.

“Of course. I’m Felicia. Felicia Del Castro. Our destination will be a surprise.”

Amanda wasn’t sure she would like the surprise given the fact that the revelation of the girl’s name almost made her fall out of the sports car’s seat. Felicia Del Castro. Of course. How could she not recognize the woman? She had seen her on TV on some annoying show a few weeks ago. Had she been singing a song? Amanda wasn’t sure anymore. But she remembered that as recently as Christmas some of her friends had talked about Felicia. There were a lot of rumors about the blonde girl who was now pushing the pedal to the metal. In skeptical amazement Amanda glanced over to the beautiful driver only to meet the girl’s dark blue eyes. They were mesmerizing and it felt like very long minutes that the girl held her gaze. Shouldn’t she look at the road?

“There’s a red light ahead!” Amanda squeaked.

Felicia just laughed at her before stopping with squealing tires at the junction. Her eyes were twinkling at her passenger. Amanda gasped. She wasn’t on a TV show. This was something else coming out of nowhere leading to a surprise destination with a rumored gay celebrity.

This was a date.

Brisbane, Australia

Paola Scetti hurried down the palm-lined path that led to the lawn behind Brisbane’s Queensland Tennis Centre. Contrary to what players and colleagues said, she was not always late. That was an exaggeration she had proven wrong on a booze-soaked night last October in Tokyo.

In a superhuman effort she had worked out her arrival stats, which undeniably verified that her interview delays were at 73%, while her delays for press conferences were only at 68%. Of course, her colleagues had argued that “always” was an elastic term – but once again were proven wrong in a linguistics battle. They seemed to be completely unaware of the fact that she had studied English literature for a semester and a half. The successful wager had won her 10,000 yen which were spent on more saké bottles than she cared to be reminded of. Being the nice Austrian girl she was known for she had shared the bottles with the sore losers. Today, she’d probably make her interview delay stat go up some points. She was late for an exclusive chat with the No. 1 player in the world, Carina Gnocchi.

Four years ago Paola had just started working for Supersport channel and one of her first assignments was to interview the French Open Junior Champion, Carina Gnocchi, from Germany. She remembered how surprised she was by the dark-haired, head-strong girl with the unfortunate Italian name.

The sixteen year old talent seemed unfazed by the media attention her win had stirred in her home country. In their interview she came across as a plain teenager with no other interests than her sport. Then again, at times her answers were quite brazen for a youngster. However, in a quiet moment the girl had admitted that having a name which meant ‘little dumplings’ was no fun in school and that she had been glad when she finally was able to join the tennis life full-time. She was fourteen years old when she had left Germany and moved to Florida with her parents to attend Rick Salieri’s famous tennis academy. In only a few years he had molded her into a formidable player with a bright future.

Her game was consistent. Stunning – not so much. It was a popular joke among the commentators that a winner from Carina’s racquet was to be considered a once in a lifetime experience. But the young player was mounting the silverware more than any other girl on tour and by the end of 2010, only weeks after her twentieth birthday, had reached her career high ranking of world No. 1.

Coming down the path Paola spotted Lars, her camera man, who was waiting in the shadow of a tree. He smoked a cigarette and watched a photographer snapping shots of Carina Gnocchi wearing a white summer dress. Alongside Carina were three other girls Paola recognized as the rest of Germany’s new dream team – Stephanie Moeller, Angela Porovski and Elise Renard. All four girls were promising tennis players, who had been making huge progress in the last two years. They were all still young and the team had good chances to make a mark at the Fed Cup competition for years to come. Only Elise's success had been impeded by her injury last year, but it was a good sign, Paola concluded, to see Elise among the group. They all seemed good friends and their friendship seemed unperturbed by Carina's new ranking and Elise's long absence away from the tour. But Paola also had learned in the many years on the tour that looks could be misleading and real friendship was rare among the girls.

Joining Lars under the palm tree Paola waved to Carina, who responded with a regal nod. She had adjusted quickly to her new status as the queen of the WTA.

***

Candice Crantz closed the door of the bleak room she was using as a temporary office at the Brisbane tournament and walked over to open the window to the backside of the tournament buildings. The regular announcements of scores  by the chair umpires drifted over from the outside courts and mingled with the humming sound of the ventilation system. A few players were sitting in the sun behind the players’ lounge and chatted while waiting for their matches.

With a loud sigh Candice turned away from the window and sat down in her office chair. Her day had been stressful and hectic so far and it was far from over. In the morning she had one by one handled journalists’ requests about the exchange of the French players with Elise Renard. She had then picked up Elise and her father from the airport to give them a briefing and conduct a little interview with the young German for the website, before overseeing Elise’s short one-on-one interviews with a few selected journalists and TV channels.

She then had time to get back to one of her freelancers who had tried to reach her all morning. Archie was scheduled to join them in a week in Sydney and then travel with the tour for most of the year doing short video tidbits and fun interviews with the players. But what he had to say wasn’t making Candice’s day any better.

“I’ll be a dad!” he had blurted into the phone. Dutifully, Candice had congratulated the enthusiastic video producer but anticipated the bad news that followed on the spot.

“I can’t possibly go on with the tour,” Archie had explained.

And that was that. Now Candice had to find another adventurer who was willing to join the erratic tour life between tournament sites, hotel rooms and airports. She picked up her phone and began to dial the number of her colleague at the Hopman Cup to finalize the PR work on the players’ exchange. Perhaps he would know someone who would be available on short notice until Sydney.

***

“Here are the facts. We have never played her, so we don’t know who might do better against her. But she is a tall Russian who hits the ball flat and hard. She is basically a ball basher like me. Moreover, she hates coming to the net. So you will play her.”

Luella and Gabriella Galloway were sitting in the shadow of two large trees behind the practice courts. Only the sound of smacked balls and occasional shouts from the players disturbed the silence of the sweltering afternoon. A sheet with the tournament’s draw was spread before them.

Since they were ten years old, the American twins had worked their way through tournaments by choosing beforehand which sister would play which opponent, depending on game style and preference. What had started as a dare among the twins, had become a very successful, very elaborate habit. In the last two years Gaga and Lulu, as they were called, had worked their way up the rankings and both had entered the Top 20 a few months ago.

It was a highly illegal team effort that had forced them to adopt several precautionary measures. The sisters spent whole evenings matching their appearances and even more time on their motions. Their game styles naturally differed and four years ago, before their first professional season, they had molded their game styles at their parents’ private tennis court to suit the overall game plan. Gaga had spent a whole summer acquiring Lulu’s powerful, dashing serve, while Lulu got some lessons in Gaga’s agile, versatile all-court game.

Since they started on the tour, their coaches were routinely ousted every six months before they had a chance to understand the nature of the twins’ elusiveness and unteachability. Not even their parents, while assuming that their daughters took turns sometimes, seemed to grasp the extent of their mischief. Their behavior was attributed to their exclusive twin status. All in all they had a reputation for being difficult, elitist and inseparable little brats.

“So you play the Russian. I play the Argentine,” Lulu pondered, studying the draw. “Then you will play Porovski in my third round, or the qualifier, but it’s highly unlikely Porovski will lose.”

Gabriella agreed. “Makes sense to me, because I will be much more comfortable with Ivana. Just blast Rodriguez off the court with your groundies!” Luella nodded. She would have preferred if Gaga had played Rodriguez. But if everything went according their plan her sister already had to play two matches more than her. She had to accept this challenge.

***

“How come I live here and don’t know about this dive bar?” Monica Jordan shook her head in wonder. She followed her doubles partner, Agnes Lion, through the bustling streets of the West End, one of the most boiling areas of Brisbane.

“Paola told me about it,” Agnes laughed.

“Paola? Don’t tell me she’s a late bloomer!”

“No. She discovered it by accident, when she was on a booze cruise with Hugh Andrews, her colleague from Supersport. He loved it obviously, as they stayed there the whole night.”

Walking through the bustling neighborhood of Spring Hill,  the sound of laughter and shouts from the bars surrounded them like a warm afternoon breeze. It had only been three weeks since they had seen each other but they had been chatting nonstop since Agnes had met Monica for lunch at a cozy Bar & Grill. Once they had gone through their Christmas with the family stories, they had decided to begin the end of the day with a few shots at the newly discovered gay bar. There was one matter they hadn’t discussed yet – the latest WTA gossip, and there was no better source for the hot topics than Monica Jordan. Stopping at the corner to check the street signs, Agnes turned to her friend.

“Will you tell me about your party, now? What happened? Spill the beans.”

Monica’s New Year beach house parties were notorious and whoever got an invitation felt honored and excited. This year, Agnes wasn’t able to make it so she was desperate to catch up on the infamous incidents which surely had happened.

“Are you ready for a big one?”

Agnes nodded.

“Miss Italy is going down on Eva Peron.”

“No way.” Agnes stopped on the spot. “No, no way!”

“Way, way, way,” Monica gave her a sly grin. “I set up the two Catholic girls over the punch fountain.”

“There’s something wonderfully rotten in the Land of Oz. Which would be you.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Monica took a little bow, swaying an imaginary hat, then headed further down to the riverbank. “They make a nice pairing, don’t they?”

“A pretty hot pairing. I pity the priest who has to take their confessions.”

They walked down the street towards the Brisbane River. At the end of it was a corner house with a small, purple-lit doorway. Agnes gestured to the entrance and they crossed the street. When they came closer pulsing music gushed out to lead the way.

“Speaking of Oz? Did you set up the Wiz Kid, too?”

“Oh, don’t get me started. She’s a lost cause. She prefers to stick to chocolate.” Monica pushed the door open and began looking for a table in the crowded room. “But,” she added with a snort, “I might try again. I’m old enough now for this whole charity shebang.”

***

After she finished the interview with Carina Gnocchi and reported back to the editing room, Paola decided that it was time to watch some tennis. Today several interesting matches were scheduled and the most appealing seemed to be the first meeting of Gabriella Galloway, one half of the American twins, and the twenty-two year old Argentine, Martina Rodriguez. It should be a fine match with Gabriella's aggressive all-court game matching Rodriguez’s tricky shot-making. Paola was looking forward to some spectacular rallies.

She sprinted up the stairs to the commentator box only to witness her colleagues Hugh Andrews and Samantha Watts coming out of the little room. They looked exhausted.

“Oh, no. Did I miss it?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Samantha sighed. “Gabriella failed miserably. Tried to hit through the court, but missed most of the easy shots. No net play, no wit, no delight from her. It was a really disappointing performance.”

“Fifty-eight minutes and she was out,” Hugh added.

Paola was surprised. She had talked to the American earlier this week. Gabriella had a calm, even guarded personality, most people mistook for arrogance, but she used to flourish when she went on the court.

“Well, one can only hope it’s not a ridiculous attempt by that new coach to make her play more like Luella,” Sam mumbled.

“If it is, the coach will be fired faster than Renard’s serves go over the net,” Hugh giggled. A day before Elise Renard had managed quite effortlessly to break the speed gun with her booming serves. Several consecutive times she had served over 123 mph. After the fourth time the display went blank and stayed so for the rest of the set. Hugh and Sam had a good laugh as well as the crowd in the arena.

“It’s great that she got the wild card. It would have been a shame if she couldn’t have played at all because of Franke’s injury,” Sam said.

“Elise is a sweet kid. The knee injury was very unfortunate. It must have been hard for her to watch her peers rising up the rankings while her career just stopped dead,” Paola wondered. “Suddenly all the attention is on The Knocker. I remember that two years ago we wondered if Carina would ever crack the Top 50. Now she’s Numero Uno. Amazing how time flies.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam sighed, checking the monitor in the commentator booth. “We need to get back into the sauna.”

“Antonia Sapore will try to give Mint a new flavor,” Hugh purred. Chuckling, the two commentators walked back into their box while Paola headed back to the media center. There was still work to do and a look at her watch confirmed it – yes, she was late again.

***

“It happens. Wasn’t your fault.” Gabriella patted Luella’s back , then grabbed her sister’s bag and pushed her through the gate.

“She got lucky,” Luella growled.

“She also played really well. I wonder how she prepared in the off-season? She was hitting the ball extra hard. She was on fire.” In fact it had been exciting to watch. At times Gaga had to deter herself from cheering for the Argentine’s points.

She glanced over to her younger sister and upon seeing her face Gabriella felt guilty. Perhaps if she had played Rodriguez, she could have handled the high pace of the South American. Also, she might still be in the tournament. Even though Luella played the match today, it was Gabriella’s name on the scoreboard, and it was Gabriella who was out of the tournament now.

They walked in silence heading for the practice court in the back. To their left was the picnic lawn of the Queensland Tennis Centre but only a few visitors had settled onto the grass. At five in the afternoon it was still incredibly hot. There was only one lonely figure underneath the big tree in the back of the picnic area. The girl was lying on a tournament towel and there was a huge racquet bag next to her.

“I think that’s Elise!” Gabriella exclaimed. “Let’s go over and say hello.”

“No, thanks,” Lulu snapped. “Can’t stand her constant smiling. It drives me mad. I could punch her every time I see her.”

Gabriella sighed, which caused Lulu to turn around with an angry stare. “You go over then. I want to be alone anyways.”

Luella dashed off leaving her twin sister dumbfounded. But Gaga knew there wasn’t much she could do when Lulu was in a bad mood.

She stepped onto the grass and walked over to the girl under the tree. Gabriella was still 60 feet away when Elise looked up. The American waved over and Elise smiled back. Then she quickly stuffed the book she was reading into her bag and got up. It had happened too fast and Gaga wasn’t able to see the writing on the cover, but from the distance it looked like a Tennis Nurse novel. Now, that would be a surprise, Gabriella thought. Never in her life had she guessed that Elise Renard would read the infamous trash novel series. But then again nobody thought that about herself.

Gaga had almost read the whole series. It was the one guilty pleasure not even Luella knew about, as Gabriella traded the novels secretly with only one player, Morgana Doré, and never kept more than one novel at a time which she carried in her toilet bag. But Elise? She had never heard any stories about the nice German. No, Gaga must have been wrong. She shook her head and gave Elise a big smile. They talked for fifteen minutes before Gabriella left again to have a light hit with her grumpy sister.

It was good to see Elise back on the tour. She had played only a couple of the European indoor tournaments last fall after she was beaten in the first round of the U.S. Open. It had been her first tournament back after her injury had taken her out for several months, and by then her ranking had dropped dramatically as she had been unable to defend her points from summer 2009. But she never let her bad luck get her down and no matter what Luella thought, Gaga liked the smiley girl. Besides her joyful effusiveness, she could be quite thoughtful and shy. Moreover, Elise was one of the few people who didn’t ignore Gabriella because of the reputation she and Luella had. On her way to the practice court Gabriella resolved to make an effort to get to know the young German better.

***

Antonia Sapore let herself drop down onto the bench and exhaled. The Italian had asked for twenty minutes before she had to show up for her press conference. Then she would have a massage followed by a talk with her coach over a quick dinner. It was already past 7 P.M. and she had no plans for the evening and right now she didn’t feel like doing anything but lying in her bed and falling asleep.

Breathing in deeply she closed her eyes and tried to calm down until her racket bag fell over onto the floor with a loud bang. The sound echoed through the empty locker room. She didn’t like it when the place was deserted like this. The tour was all about constant buzzing, boiling activity which took you into an addicting whirl and as soon as you happened to find yourself alone, the lifelessness of concrete walls and clean hotel rooms wrapped you up abruptly. Her opponent had already left the room, leaving behind the sweet smell of a deodorant. It went to her head and she began to feel dizzy.

When the door to the locker room was opened, Antonia opened her eyes. She turned around but her mood shifted instantly when she saw a well-known face appearing in the long corridor that separated both locker sides.

“Como estás, mi corazón?”

Martina Rodriguez made a few nonchalant steps towards her, hands in the pockets of her tracksuit jacket, and smiled at the Italian.

“Fa male molto male,” Antonia moaned with a grin and – pretending to faint – she lifted her hand to her face and laid down on the bench.

“Oh, no,” Martina exclaimed rushing for help. “Looks like someone needs a nurse.” She slid down on her knees and after carefully taking off Antonias’s shoes began to examine the Italian’s legs.

“How is your thigh, cariña? Do you happen to have pains on your inner thigh?”

The Italian nodded dramatically – because which tennis player didn’t have pains in their thighs after a grueling match? She leaned back and, reconsidering her evening plans, she relaxed under Martina’s skillful treatment. But only for a moment. Then she glanced up at the clock on the wall. Only fifteen minutes left until the press conference. Antonia grabbed the Argentine’s head and planted a big smooch on her lips.

“I have to take a shower,” she sighed while taking off her top. She picked up two bath towels and walked towards the bathroom section. As she reached it, she stopped and looked back only to catch Martina staring at her butt. The Italian rolled her eyes then winked mischievously at her lover.

“Mamma mia,” she said with a big grin while disappearing into the shower. With a joyful cheer the Argentine jumped up sprinting after her.

“¡Una y otra vez, sé cómo resistirte!”

***

“I’m afraid I don’t have any news,” Agnes said.

She and Monica had ordered some beer and had settled down at a table, discussing the new relationship between Martina and Antonia. Since they had quit the stressful singles competition the two doubles partners had developed a reputation as understanding and discreet counselors and occasional matchmakers for the younger players.

“What about the little fox?”

“Oh, her, right,” Agnes pondered. “I haven’t thought about her for a while. There’s nothing, to be honest. I left some very deep foot prints in the snow but the fox isn’t following the spoor. At least I haven’t heard from her since we played in Luxembourg.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, really. Just gave her a hint, that we would welcome her with open arms.”

Monica shrugged. “Maybe I was wrong about her.”

“When have you ever been wrong about a girl?” Agnes laughed.

“Once or twice in my life for sure.”

“Well, if you were wrong, you were simply great at getting them drunk.”

“That’s me.” Monica laughed. Looking at her friend, she was suddenly glad they had never tried to get it on. Sometimes it was good to just be friends. Then she laughed some more over this atypical, way out of character notion. She was getting old, she thought, and that was a good thing.

Suddenly Agnes grabbed her arm nodding over to the entrance. Martina Rodriguez and Antonia Sapore had entered and peeked into the room.

“Who needs a priest if Monica Jordan is the Mother Superior,” Agnes snickered. They waved Antonia and Martina over, ordered soft drinks for the kids and began to take their confessions.

***

She had been spanked. Brutally.

The worst thing about it was that she hadn’t even played badly. She just hadn’t played wisely enough. Mint opened her eyes and turned around in her hotel bed. Why hadn’t she opted for the serve out wide when she was up a break and 40-15? Why that weak body serve? Antonia Sapore had literally danced around the ball and had crushed it back into Mint’s backhand corner. She had been unable to reach it. And then her attempt of a drop shot at 40-30. Laughable. Sapore was too quick for bad drop shots. Mint should have known better, but she had been a little too cocky, tried to end the point in a spectacular way, not in a safe way. She should have gone cross-court.

In hindsight this had been the beginning of the end. She had been holding up well so far, even though she had lost the first set 3-6. But she had not given in. She had even been able to break the Italian in the second set. But it’s not a break until you hold and she had not been able to hold.

Mint turned onto her side and stared into the dark room. Why the body serve? She’d known it was a mistake as soon as she had seen the Italian stepping to her left. Her opponent had read her serve exceptionally well for the whole match, but had problems with the wide serve. Mint had hit three aces on that wide serve. Why hadn’t she used it when it mattered? In less than twenty minutes the match was over. Mint had not been able to win one more game.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself. “Fuck my life.”

***

“This match has taken some amazing twists and turns. With both players starting a little bit hesitantly, you could even say, a bit timidly, we didn’t dare to hope for such an exciting thriller.”

“Absolutely true. This has turned into a incredible fight and it’s just impossible to say who will keep their nerve and wrestle the other down.”

“Never in my life have I seen such a tight, hard-contested tiebreak!”

“It’s 9-9 in this late night tiebreaker and we have been witnessing some spectacular shot making so far. Sapore just ripped that forehand to run a game on Rodriguez leveling the score at 8-8, but the Argentine was ready to bend over backwards to get into another winning position. But then she seemed to lose a bit of her concentration.”

“Yes, she really struggled to keep the ball in play. It was more make believe.”

“And she failed to finish off the point in the end.”

“Now, that’s just not fair,” Martina blurted out. “I was totally drunk!” To demonstrate her point she slammed her fist on the table shaking Agnes’s and Monica’s empty beer bottles. “How por el amor de dios, am I supposed to remember how I did? I was probably súper-fantástico.” The Argentine stared in disbelief at Monica and Agnes who continued to babble into their beer bottles pretending they were microphones.

“I’m sorry, amore, but I successfully challenged your shot. It was poor and you lost the point.” Antonia gave her lover a little pat on the back.

“I do remember she was still in my bed when I woke up,” Martina said, but had to admit that the point went to the Italian.

About an hour ago, prodded by the already tipsy Monica and Agnes, the young couple had started to list the affairs they had engaged in since they started on the tour. Being two years older the Argentine had the advantage in the beginning and took the first set easily with 6-3. But Antonia had fought back in a phenomenal effort. She had been quite busy in the last three years and she wouldn’t let go of the second set.

“And now, we witness a little discussion during the changeover,” Agnes agitatedly continued. “Rodriguez doesn’t seem to be taking the lost match point lightly.”

“That’s right, Agnes. There you can see the hot-blooded South American coming through.”

“She is picking up the water bottle. I’m afraid we will witness a code violation.”

”Will she take the bottle and throw it at her opponent? She is aiming!”

A splash hit the two commentators instead.

After the ugly incident a point penalty for Martina handed Antonia a set point. She converted it with a cunning, lingering drop shot to force a decider. This night was only just beginning.

Melbourne, Australia

Walking down the red carpet of her sponsor’s pre-tournament party, Sasha Mrachova felt very much aware of herself. As much as she loved to be admired she had begun to cherish the moments away from the limelight, on her own with a good book in hand. These moments had become rare and since she had arrived in Australia she couldn’t recall a single evening she had had to herself. Tonight, she would have felt more like reading or watching a movie but she was paid too much money by her sponsor to bail out.

A photographer with curly red locks smiled at her and gestured for her to turn her face to the camera. She liked the spotlight and she knew how to move for the photographers to achieve the desired effect and get onto the covers of magazines. Over the years Sasha had little by little turned into a model in great demand, to the point that her fans were questioning her commitment to tennis. She had promised herself to prove them wrong.

By her side and holding her hand tightly was Czech soccer star Jaroslav Bradka, a midfielder of Manchester City. Jaro was nice, extremely good-looking and provided her some company during his off-season in the winter. He also stopped the inconvenient questions about her private life that had begun to lay siege to her in the last few years. For a long time the absence of boyfriends had been explained by her being occupied with her tennis career, but her management worried that it would eventually interfere with sponsoring deals. The relationship with Jaro was set up quickly. In October they had announced that they were dating, around Christmas they had dealt a few pictures to the yellow press. Jaro had agreed to show up for at least five tournaments per year while she would attend just as many of his football club’s matches.

As soon as she and Jaro entered the buffet room, he was hi-jacked by Carina Gnocchi, the young German, who had the same clothing sponsor as Sasha.

“Why didn’t you sign with Arsenal? My dad says, it’s the best team ever!”

Jaroslav smiled politely at the young German.

“Oh please, their defense sucks,” he answered. “And the city isn’t what it used to be. No, I’ll stick to Manchester.”

As a German with Italian roots Carina was a soccer expert and engaged in a heated discussion with Jaro. How could anyone be so interested in football, Sasha thought. Or was she actually hitting on her boyfriend? She noticed that Carina put her hand on Jaro’s arm but the Czech tennis player couldn’t have cared less. If the new No. 1 really flirted with her fiancé her effort would be completely in vain, Sasha mused. Soon British newcomer Gemma Heffington joined the football discussion, pushing Carina’s arm away. That got the German going. Her speech on the formidability of a 2-3-5 formation was increasing the cringe factor with every second and Sasha looked down at her glass, realizing that it was empty. No need to endure this embarrassing performance any longer, she decided. Leaning on Jaro’s arm, Sasha whispered in his ear to excuse herself and noticed to her delight that both girls frowned. How easy it was for Sasha to claim her territory with a simple gesture. Besides, her manager had told her to show more public displays of affection. She was in a happy relationship with Jaro after all.

Making her way through the crowd she picked up another cocktail from a waiter and stepped outside onto the brightly lit patio. What was so special about football players anyway? She couldn’t understand the fascination at all. With a sigh she sat down onto the rattan couch. Looking around she concluded that this was much more to her liking – low-riding with a nice view, which consisted of high-heeled, tanned, long legs of fellow tennis girls.

***

“You want to come over?” Cecilia asked into the darkness.

“Why don’t you come over?”

“I have to walk around the bed while you could just get out of yours and slip into mine. Your way is shorter.”

“That’s silly,” Mint mumbled into her cushion. She sounded sleepy. “Silly Chili!”

Cecilia giggled. Chili was her nickname.

“I know. But I’m too knackered to get up.”

Mint moaned, irritated, but Chili could hear her pushing the blanket aside and stepping out of the bed. The young Spanish player turned around in her bed when Mint lay down next to her.

“Great. The sheets are cold,” Mint complained.

Cecilia smiled, knowing that her friend was unable to see it. Mint Rickenbacher wasn’t very amicable. She often came across as very rude and selfish, but Chili knew that her best friend just didn’t like to admit that she enjoyed some closeness, even tenderness, at times. Even though Mint could have easily afforded to stay in the official players’ hotel located by the Yarra River, the American had opted to share a room in a cheap hotel with Chili – much to the dislike of Mint’s parents.

Cecilia lifted her blanket a bit and threw it over her shivering friend.

“So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?” Chili asked.

“You mean, besides beating Little Miss Sunshine?”

Chili nodded. They both had to play their qualifying finals tomorrow. If they won them they would be in the main draw of a Grand Slam.

“She’s not little,” she mused over Mint’s opponent’s height, causing Mint to groan again. “I’m little.”

“You know what I mean. She’s unbearable.”

“I think she is cute.”

Mint sat up in the bed. “Seriously? She’s a pain in the ass! I’m going to whip her with my groundies tomorrow.” She let herself fall down onto the sheets again. “You can’t be serious.”

Chili snorted over that much passion. “Jealous much?” She pinched Mint through the blanket.

“No way,” came the answer. “I mean, seriously?”

Mint really wanted to know.

“No,” Cecilia answered. “She is too tall for me anyway.” With a swift movement the Spaniard reached out under the blanket and embraced Mint’s wiry body.

“And she is a pain in the ass,” Mint insisted, talking to the ceiling.

“Yes,” Chili answered, moving closer and planting a kiss on Mint’s cheek. She continued doing it until Mint turned towards her and began kissing her back.

***

His whole life had changed in a couple of days. From sporadic freelance writer and photographer Tom Richardson had made it to a full-time writer, photographer and video producer.

As though by chance he had been at the right place at the right time and now he was working for the WTA, producing entertaining little tidbits for its website. Last week he had mainly done interviews and two photo shoots with some of the lower ranked girls at the Sydney tournament, as his new boss Candice Crantz was testing the waters before she let him loose on the star players. That was fine with him. Everything was fine at the moment. He had only arrived in Melbourne yesterday and his first assignment for today seemed easy enough.

He had met Elise Renard at the reception desk and soon enough had found a quiet place to do a little fun interview with the young German. The twenty year old had been a quarterfinalist only a year ago but now was fighting her way back into the upper ranks. She had done alright in Brisbane, reaching the second round before falling to a more experienced player. Today however was not a good day for the German. She had lost her qualifying match against American newcomer Mint Rickenbacher and was out of the Australian Open before it had even started. Accordingly, her mood was a little dampened, even though she seemed quite endearing.

“What do you like most about playing in Australia?” Tom asked her.

“The weather,” Elise answered, adding that the people were also very nice. Hearing her mellow-voiced answers Tom soon settled into autopilot. This would be another half hour of boringness, he suspected, plus another hour of editing the boringness. Why not add a little spice, he wondered. He didn’t have to use it if it didn’t work out. He hesitated for a second but then gave it a go.

“Are you looking forward to dancing with a particular player tonight at the player’s party?” It caught her off-guard. She laughed nervously then grabbed the water bottle. Her reaction set Tom’s antennae buzzing. Apparently he had hit the mark – there was someone she wanted to dance with.

“Some of the players are really in demand,” Tom tried to get her talking, but she was still holding on to the bottle gulping little sips. “Who’s your favorite?”

She grimaced in embarrassment. “I’ll keep it to myself.”

Dear Lord, Tom couldn’t help thinking. So German! How much more fun would that question have been with any of the British girls?

“Yeah, you’re right,” he managed to say. “I would do that, too. Most girls would name Ted Curry as a favorite though. At least that’s what I have heard.” Tom smiled at Elise.

“I guess,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulders. She looked like she had never heard of Ted Curry. This girl was too uptight, Tom figured. Why would anyone at her age become so nervous in response to his harmless questions? Wasn’t she traveling with her father all the time? Yes, that must be it. Well, it was actually something they could talk about – her French father, who was also her coach. In the morning he had checked the WTA website to gather some information about the players he was supposed to interview. He was still learning who was who in the women’s tennis world and he was surprised to learn that Elise Renard was listed as German, but had soon found out that her name came from her father, a famous French coach with a German wife.

Tom gave the young woman a friendly wink.

“Well, back to tennis then,” he suggested.

“Yes, thank you.” She relaxed again and put the bottle down. They talked for another twenty minutes about tennis, music and her comeback from injury.

After she politely thanked him and said good-bye, Tom watched the young girl leave the lobby. He was a bit puzzled by the German and thinking about editing her generic answers he let out a little moan. But then he got up. Why worry? This was Australia and what a difference two weeks can make, he thought. He put on his sunglasses and pulling his hand through his red curls he took a step out into the morning light. He had a new job, a new life and – he smiled as brightly as the Australian sun – since Perth he wasn’t single anymore.

***

The lobby was bustling but there was no sign of Natsumi Takashima. Amanda and Monica looked around, then headed to the lounge and settled down on the huge couch to wait for their Japanese friend, with whom they had decided to share a quick lunch before they would spend the afternoon getting ready for tonight’s players’ party. The couch was surrounded by gigantic tub plants that made the room look like a jungle.

“Where is she? She is only on time when she has to play a match. It’s not very Japanese to be late, is it?” Amanda was muttering while looking up at the leaves of an exotic plant.

“Whatever the reason is, I just hope it doesn’t involve sushi,” Monica grinned thinking back four months when the girls had a night out in Tokyo.

“Oh god. I don’t want to be reminded!” Amanda waved aside the thought. That night she had had too much sake. Far too much.

“So tell me about that new girl of yours,” Monica purred.

“Nothing to tell really,” Amanda said slowly. “Just someone I met.” She gave a bright red flower to her left a close inspection and Monica Jordan had to laugh. Even though Amanda was not particularly shy she wouldn’t talk about her feelings a lot. However, in the last two weeks she had been more outgoing and visibly cheerful.

“Come on, you’ve been sporting a big grin since Perth. You could at least give me a name!”

Now it was Amanda’s time to smile. She couldn’t help it. She thought about the new girl in her life.

“Felicia,” she answered. “She’s a singer.”

Monica nodded gravely. So, the stories she heard were true. Felicia Del Castro was invading the tennis world. ‘Singer’ was perhaps an exaggeration. The young woman had made a name as an announcer in several cheap TV shows and was now trying to gain a reputation as a vocalist. Her new songs were being played constantly on the radio and caused one’s ears to bleed. She glanced at Amanda. Well, she’d known it and she’d better accept it, too, Monica thought. She just couldn’t govern everything in the summer camp. She gave her young friend a big smile.

“A singer? Now, that sounds glamorous.”

“She is a bit. Glamorous, I mean,” Amanda mumbled.

Monica leaned over and gave a slightly surprised Amanda a big hug.

“That’s great, kiddo. I’m very happy for you.”

Amanda was wriggling awkwardly in her grip. “Not planning to get married yet.”

“What? But Agnes and I want to be your bridesmaids!” Monica grinned.

“Yeah, let’s see how it goes,” Amanda replied with a sheepish smile. Amanda wasn’t the type to shout it from the rooftops but her eyes revealed she was head over heels in love with Felicia Del Castro. Monica sighed inaudibly then let go of Amanda.

A horrible squeak overpowered her thoughts. Takashima had arrived with squealing tires.

“How the hell do you do that with high heels, woman?” Monica shook her head in disbelief. Takashima’s famous trademark move on the court was her sliding split. She would even do it on hard courts.

“Sorry for being late. But I discovered the most amazing roof-deck sushi restaurant and they offered me a free trial if I bring you guys along. The owner is a big tennis fan,” Natsumi explained. Unperturbed by Amanda’s shocked face she threw her arms in the air in excitement. “Hey ho, let’s go, girls!”

Eventually Monica helped Natsumi to drag Amanda from the jungle sofa and into the elevator.

***

Elise felt a big lump creeping up her throat. For a moment all she could hear were the leaves rustling by the fan above her as the huge jungle plants wrapped around her like Sleeping Beauty’s impenetrable hedge. Praying that no one came to sit in the lounge she crouched into the big wing chair that had hidden her from the three girls. She needed just two minutes of silence to steady herself. Just two minutes to fight back the tears.

So, Amanda had a girlfriend. A glamorous singer. Of course, she had, Elise thought. Amanda was a Top 10 player, she was lovely and friendly and never made a big fuss about her standing. She was a ‘cool cat’, an expression Elise had learned by reading the Tennis Nurse novel Agnes Lion had given her. She had learned a lot of other things as well. Soon she needed to give it back. Otherwise Agnes would correctly assume that Elise had read it, even though she had denied it when talking on the phone with her friend. But there were pages she could read over and over again. That’s what she had been doing in the lounge when Monica and Amanda had sat down on the couch on the other side of the jungle plants. But once she had heard Amanda’s voice behind her she had forgotten about Tennis Nurse and The Girl Who Preferred The Grass.

Now a strong feeling of self-pity and anger rose in Elise. Self-pity because she had missed the opportunity to get to know Amanda better last year. And anger because she hated self-pity. That wasn’t like her. She was fighting her way back to playing WTA tournaments without looking back on the months and months she had missed. She was a self-assured, determined person who looked ahead.

But this was different. She could recall exactly the first meeting between her and Amanda before a match three years ago. It had been one of the smaller events on the tour when Elise had just begun to cross over from playing ITF challenger tournaments to the bigger WTA tournaments and she was easily beaten by Amanda. In all the following matches Amanda was able to beat her with ease, and in hindsight Elise had to admit that it was not only the Australian’s talent and game but her own nerviness when Amanda was around that made her lose her matches. Then there was that evening they spent on the porch of the Charleston hotel away from the noisiness of last year’s players’ party. They had talked for hours sheltered by the stars of the Southern night sky and for the first time Elise had enjoyed the inner flurry the Australian caused. She had begun to really like the redhead.

She even had a dream about Amanda after the party. But back then she hadn’t grasped the nature of her affection. In hindsight she must have been completely blind to her own feelings. It could have happened back then. Why else would Amanda have spent a whole evening with her? But she had missed out on the chance and a week later she was on a plane back to Germany with a torn ACL. The unfairness of life brought tears to her eyes.

There it was again, she scolded herself. Self-pity. She wiped away the tears. Someone else would come along, she thought. Maybe. And if anybody ever came along, would Elise dare to make the first step? She couldn’t expect someone else to do it as apparently everyone who knew her assumed she was straight. Like that new freelance journalist she had to endure for an interview this morning. No wonder, none of the gay girls ever hit on her, Elise brooded. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Some of them did, but in a mocking, titillating way.

Last fall Elise had gathered all her courage and started a feeble attempt to get closer to the group of young gay girls around Mint Rickenbacher and Chili García López. But none of them had seemed to even question why Elise wanted to hang out with them. They only found it hilarious. Discouraged by their lack of empathy Elise had never talked about herself. Also, her German friends on the tour had been happy that she was back on the tour and after the embarrassing intermezzo with Mint and Chili she was glad she could catch up with the German girls again. However, – whether with the gay girls or her old friends – she felt out of place.

She scrunched the Tennis Nurse novel in frustration but then reminded herself that it wasn’t hers. Agnes. She had given Elise the novel. A very trashy novel with a lot of gay characters. The young German’s heart made a jump. Agnes must know about Elise! The novel was a hint. Why hadn’t she thought about this earlier? Elise hadn’t planned to go to the players’ party, but now she would. After all, she needed to give back Agnes’s novel.

***

The two lovers had gone to a very expensive restaurant which at lunch hour was filled by business men mostly. It was on the other side of the Yarra River and they hoped that no other tennis people would make the extra way to have a meal at the same place. It seemed like they never had enough privacy.

Looking through the menu Tom frowned seeing the over-priced dishes that were probably small enough to gulp in one bite. He craved a big burger with fries. He looked up to his love interest sitting in front of him and was mildly touched by the concentration Ted Curry’s face showed while he was studying the menu and choosing his lunch dish. It was the same concentration he used to hit the ball.

“What about Mrs. Curry?” Tom asked, even though he was glad they were alone.

“She found a rerun of Neighbours on TV,” Ted replied without looking up from the menu. “She couldn’t be happier.”

Ted’s mother was also his manager and her obsession with what was going on at Ramsay Street was well-known in the tennis circuit and made for much laughter in the locker rooms and players’ lounges of the tour. Even though Tom had not met her yet, she seemed fine with Ted’s love life and a fun person to be with. But now Tom had to laugh at Ted.

“I’m not talking about your mother but your girlfriend,” he laughed.

“Oh, she’s the best girlfriend I could wish for,” Ted winked at Tom. “Did you see that interview we did together. She’s the best beard in the business.”

“Well, it seems she has many, many talents,” Tom said. Honestly, he thought, she was a tedious attention seeker and her talent to be absent was his favorite. Tom’s foot made contact with Ted’s ankle. Ted smiled back at the hidden gesture which made Tom blush.

“So where is she tonight?”

“Oh, busy, very busy. Like a queen bee stirring up the hive.”

“Your majesty?” Tom laughed

“Indeed. You know me. So very British.” Ted raised his water glass and nodded while locking eyes with his hot date. “God save the Queen.”

***

Even on the loo she was pestered by terrible music. From the speakers came something that sounded like elevator music. Why can’t a human being enjoy some silence at times, Sasha wondered.               She slammed the door of her toilet booth and sat down on the lid. She had just engaged in a nice conversation with Angela Porovski, the very entertaining German player, when German team mate Carina Gnocchi showed up and snatched Angela away from Sasha to cheer Luella Galloway’s karaoke performance of “I Heard It Through The Grapevine”.

Carina, the Knocker. Sasha swore she would knock the pesky German out of the No. 1 spot. She could be the queen of tennis again. She knew she just had to work harder than ever. Good thing she had abjured long-legged distraction for now.  Looking, but not touching was the device that would get her back to the top. It had worked in the past and it would work again. There was nothing to take her mind off the tennis.

The restroom’s door was pushed open. The music from the speakers mingled with the music outside. Obviously Luella Galloway had been dragged off the stage as someone else was performing a horrible impersonation of Enrique Martinez’s new song. Sasha could make out two pairs of high-heels clicking over the bathroom floor. Without making a sound Sasha lifted her own feet off the ground so they wouldn’t show under the toilet door.

“Your sister is very funny,” a young voice said. Sasha knew the melodic sound of it but couldn’t place it.

“Yes,” another girl answered. “If she’s in a good mood, she can be very entertaining.”

That was Gabriella Galloway, Sasha thought. They were talking about Lulu.

“So, you know Agnes,” Gabriella said to the other girl. “Are you trading books with her?”

“What?” The other girl sounded offended.

“I saw that you gave Agnes a Tennis Nurse novel. Which episode was it?”

Now, wasn’t that interesting, Sasha thought. Gabriella Galloway knew about the Tennis Nurse series?

“I didn’t read it,” the other girl snapped. “Agnes gave it to me over Christmas, but I had other things to do. I didn’t even open it!”

There was a silence on the other side of the door. Sasha could only hear the water running. Then a pair of heels turned and walked to the door. Audibly, Gabriella breathed in over the clicking sound.

“Elise, I’m sorry,” Sasha heard the American say but the door had already closed.

Elise? Sasha sat up straight in surprise. The only person Sasha knew with this name was Elise Renard. Sasha shook her head in amazement. Of course, she could remember the face now. She silently began to chuckle but burst into laughter as soon as Gabriella had left the restroom. The best thing about the whole scene was that Elise Renard denied reading Tennis Nurse.

Sasha hadn’t laughed so much for quite a while.

***

“He is finer than frog’s hair!” Robyn blurted out. She looked up to the sky as if she had seen a vision. “And he’s terribly fit. His hair has turned even redder in the Australian sun. It’s so hot.” She was still slobbering over that reporter guy she had met in Perth and who was now standing at the entrance of the players’ party taking pictures of the arriving players.

“I know his name,” Gemma chirped.

“What? How do you know that?”

“He called me.”

Discombobulated Robyn looked at her friend.

Gemma grinned. “Well, not exactly. He called my room from the reception desk to tell me to come down to the lobby. You remember the interview I had to do this morning, don’t you? I didn’t know it would be the guy you’ve been talking about for the last two weeks.”

With Gemma leading the way they made their way to the buffet. Robyn followed her friend impatiently.

“Will you tell me the name now?”

“Tom,” Gemma said with a grin. Then she paused dramatically. “Tom Richardson.”

A loud snicker made them turn around. It was Ted Curry waggishly grinning at his two British colleagues.

“Have you found a new victim?” He laughed. “I should give the poor fellow a warning.”

“Don’t you dare interfere, Ted Curry!” Gemma gave him a punch in the ribs.

“What are your plans?” Ted searched the buffet. “Will you lure him to a dark place and strap him down with a left-over racquet string?”

“We might,” Robyn giggled.

“Well, well, young ladies,  I’d love to witness some naughty action. Give me a call if you catch the Crimson Snapper.”

He picked up a fairy cake and popped it into his mouth. Munching it in a devastatingly sexy manner he saluted the girls and went over to the bar where he joined some fellow players.

“He hasn’t changed one bit.” Gemma shook her head. “Have you met his new girlfriend yet? She must be crazy to give Ted a go.”

“I told you, I didn’t speak to her. Just saw them together, when they were giving an interview.” Robyn shrugged. She was so over Ted Curry. She gestured Gemma to go over to the dancing floor. An old-fashioned rock and roll tune was playing in the background.

“I heard she works in television,” Gemma said. Rumors were spreading fast within the tennis world but it was only the beginning of the season and everyone had to do some catching-up on the still fresh stories.

“How fitting,” Robyn pondered. “Ted loves these media people.”

***

They’d got lost, Amanda was sure of it. She had seen that painting on the hotel corridor only five minutes ago. Obviously Natsumi Takashima and Mint Rickenbacher were running in circles, unable to find their rooms which wasn’t surprising at all given the amount of punch they had swallowed.

“We’ve been here before,” she shouted after the two girls in front of her.

“Hear, hear, who’s talking to us again?” Mint shouted back. “Are you done calling Felicia?”

Mint had checked into the players’ hotel only today after she had won her qualifying match. Lord knows where she had stayed before, but with Cecilia García López out of the tournament she obviously had decided to move to the fancier accommodation, Amanda concluded. She had hooked up with Natsumi and it looked like they would share a room tonight – if they found it.

“She’s not answering the phone,” Amanda said with a slur. She wasn’t exactly sober herself. Catching up to the two girls who rested against the wall she looked at the display on her cell phone. Why wasn’t Felicia answering? She must have tried a thousand times now. “There must be something wrong with her phone. She explicitly told me to call her when I get back to the hotel.”

“You have been trying non-stop for thirty minutes now,” Natsumi declared with an unsteady voice. “It’s her turn now to call you. She will see that you called her.” The Japanese pushed herself from the wall, grabbed Mint’s arm and hobbled down the hallway.

Maybe she should go to her room and wait for her call, Amanda wondered. She looked around to locate where her room might be when a loud bump followed by a scream made her jump. It had come from around the corner. The girls! She began to run. Turning around the corridor corner she saw Mint lying on the floor with a girl in a short turquoise dress while Natsumi was holding on to the wall laughing at the scene. Amanda recognized the young girl as Elise Renard. Apparently Mint had knocked over the German when she had exited the elevator.

“Oh, Elise. Quelle surpise!” Rolling on the floor Mint was moving very closely to Elise’s neck, pretending to sniff her perfume. “I like that. What is that?”

Elise shook her head in embarrassment. She looked confounded by Mint’s bluntness and sat up quickly, ready to flee the drunk girls but stopped dead when she saw Amanda approaching.

“Why don’t you join us, Lizzy?” the American suggested grabbing Elise in a headlock. “Looks like Amanda’s been let down by her famous girlfriend. You could step in? We don’t want her to be lonely tonight, do we? What do you say?”

Amanda looked at Natsumi who had stopped laughing. Mint was going too far again. The Australian grabbed the protesting Mint, pulled her away from Elise and handed her over to Natsumi, who dragged her away from the scene. When the two girls had vanished around the next corner, Amanda reached out her hand to Elise who was still sitting on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

Elise nodded slowly, then took the Australian’s hand. Amanda pulled her up. It was only one year ago when they had sat on that porch in Charleston in the night air, but she sensed a change in the young woman. Her mellow exuberance that had warmed their conversation was overshadowed by a breeze of acridness.

“Sorry about Mint,” Amanda muttered. Elise just shrugged. Amanda hoped she would say something but the young German kept staring at the ground. Then she looked up and gave Amanda a little smile.

“Thank you,” Elise said and without another word she walked away.

Melbourne, Australia

“Why now? Why not wait till we get back home?” Gabriella followed her sister through the corridor of their Melbourne hotel.

“Because we need one. That’s why. Just look at you!” Luella turned around, pointing at Gaga’s hips.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m not fit? I played two matches today!”

“We need to get fitter!” Lulu grabbed Gaga’s hand and pulled her through the door of Room 324. Inside Mick Ecklund, their coach was waiting. He had a bored face, knowing that he would have nothing to say in the procedures that were about to take place.

“You are late, girls! They are already waiting.” He pointed to the door that connected the room with the next one.

“Good,” Lulu said sitting down in a chair. “Where are their CVs? And can I get a water, please?” She clapped her hands and Mick got up to look for a glass of water.

Gabriella found herself a lounge chair in the back of the room. She had no intention of taking part in the show except to prevent the worst. She sighed. As if her day had not been strenuous enough, Luella had set up job interviews for a new fitness trainer feeling that they needed one as soon as possible after the previous trainer had left them without warning, after only a week in Brisbane. It was typical for Luella to rush things. That was her way on the court and off the court. That was also the reason Gabriella was the more consistent player. It was a fact the twins never spoke about as they both knew their careers were a joint effort.

Today Gaga had played both the singles match for Luella and an arduous doubles match together with her sister. After the doubles match she had to convince her sister, that she couldn’t possibly play the match against Sasha the next day. She felt exhausted and needed the free day that was granted the players at a Grand Slam. This evening she would have preferred to talk about tactics for Lulu’s match but Luella was already involved in the inspection of tanned, buff Latino guys.

Latino guys? Yes, all of them, Gabriella realized when scanning the room.

After another twenty minutes she was convinced that Luella had made the pre-selection of suitable contenders based solely on their resemblance to Enrique Martinez. Was that the name of that Spanish rock singer Lulu would listen to all the time? Gabriella couldn’t remember even though she had to endure his music on every drive between the hotel and the tournament site.

She closed her eyes and frowned. Now she had one of his terrible tunes stuck in her head. She tried to think of something neutral like tennis balls flying over a net and soon fell asleep on the big, comfortable couch. She missed the big moment when Lulu proudly announced Rafael as new fitness coach for the Galloway twins.

***

It was a glorious evening and Tamara Parova and Ivana Katina felt the need to celebrate their first doubles quarterfinal of the year with a nice dinner at a good restaurant. They had played together only a couple of times before the Australian Open but they complemented each other really well and had achieved their first success in Tokyo last year by reaching the final, followed by their first trophy on home soil in Moscow. Even though they were both regarded as singles players foremost doubles seemed like good fun as they had become good friends and it also served their skills at the net.

They had chosen a seafood Bar & Grill not far from the hotel with a nice terrace but the restaurant terrace was already jam-packed and they agreed to take a table inside. They had just begun to sip soft drinks when a small scene at the restaurant’s reception desk caught their eye. A tall blonde woman was arguing with the young woman who had just showed Tamara and Ivana to their table. Obviously something had gone wrong with her reservation. There was also a woman with curly red hair who seemed embarrassed by the disturbance her friend caused. She looked constantly to the exit apparently ready to split any second.

Soon several staff members marched out to the terrace and approached an elderly couple. From the gestures of the waiters and the couple Ivana concluded that the waiters explained that there had been a mistake with their reservation and the couple had to move to a different table to make space for the new guests.

“Who do they think they are?” Tamara shook her head in disgust when the blonde and the red-haired women passed their table. She had only seen their backs but Ivana who was seated in the corner had a better view. With a surprised look on her face she turned to her friend.

“That was Amanda! With Felicia Del Castro!”

“Who?” Tamara didn’t know the last name.

“Amanda, the Oister!” Ivana clarified, turning her head around the corner to watch the two women sit down at the free table. She looked back at Tamara. “Felicia is a singer and TV show host. She’s also Australian,” she whispered.

Tamara shook her head, unconcerned by the news. Ivana was three years younger than her and apparently knew all sorts of celebrities. Tamara had never heard of that singer and she didn’t care anyway as their food arrived and they dug in.

“I didn’t know Amanda was friends with celebrities. She seems so low key all the time,” Tamara wondered while skillfully butchering a big lobster. “Maybe this Felicia is an old friend from school?”

“Yes, maybe a friend.”

Ivana stole another glance around the corner. The table Amanda and Felicia were sitting at now was at the far end of the terrace hidden from the other outside tables by a bamboo hedgerow, but from inside Tamara and Ivana had a good view of the pair through the glass window. She almost dropped her spoon into the soup bowl. Felicia was bending forward over the table and kissing Amanda Auster. Then she leaned back again and gave the red-haired tennis player a huge smile.

“Or maybe not,” Ivana gasped. She turned her head to Tamara for confirmation, but the Russian was occupied with cracking a pincer. She never saw the kiss and Ivana decided to keep it to herself.

***

“Morgana Doré versus Angela Porovski. France versus Germany. Wine versus beer.”

Hugh Andrews was a nice guy and a pretty pleasant colleague, but Samantha Watts couldn’t help but shake her head, glancing at her colleague, sure that it was only a matter of time until the British commentator would come up with an Eiffel Tower reference. She checked her microphone which was ready to go, when all of a sudden the countdown appeared in big, bold red letters in front of them and within a minute, they were on the air. Quarterfinals day. That meant excitement and hopefully several high-quality matches. Hopefully the excitement prevented Hugh from coming up with his ridiculous ‘versus’ comparisons.

“Good afternoon everyone. It is Samantha Watts commenting for Supersport.”

“And I’m Hugh Andrews and we will be here for you for all quarterfinals today.”

“Today the first quarterfinal will see Morgana Doré from France taking on Angela Porovski from Germany. Any thoughts, Hugh?”

Sipping on his tea Hugh Andrews shrugged, as if people could not only hear him but see him as well.

“The Eiffel Tower versus the autobahn.”

Bang! That was quick, Sam thought, glad that Hugh was continuing with his analysis.

“It’s the first time that Porovski makes it to the quarterfinals while Doré is obviously the more experienced player and one of the favorites of the tournament,” Hugh mused. But the German seems to be really in top form this week so my guess is that both will have their chances. I think, we will witness a great, memorable clash between Angie and Morgie.”

Morgie? Sam couldn’t help but shake her head again in amazement.

Then she chuckled and decided to enjoy this afternoon with Hugh. The players entered the court. It was the same routine as ever – official picture at the net, the umpire in charge of the toss and finally the warm-up. Tennis was a world made of a thousand rituals and Sam loved it.

“The German’s strong forehand against the French woman’s effective serve and groundstrokes,” Sam picked up the commenting. “It should be a very tight match even though Morgana is a hot contender as you just said. But let’s not forget that Porovski is a very hard worker. She is extremely fit and could become the surprise of this tournament.”

Besides being tireless and ambitious, Angela Porovski was a fun character – one of the rare gems that showed up from time to time on the tour. The German was well appreciated among the girls and her extroverted personality brought along a lightness that was well needed at times. As both players went to their respective sides of the net, Samantha Watts leaned forward on her desk and took a deep breath.

Down on the court Rumanian umpire Anastasia Stea switched on her microphone.

“Angela Porovski to serve.”

***

She felt the excitement in her every vein. In every muscle. In her toes. She wanted to burst into a little sprint, punch the walls of the stadium and hand out high fives to the spectators who were cheering for her. But instead she regally walked off the court into the catacombs of the Rod Laver Arena with her little trademark wave.

She was back. Back in the game, back in the ring and she just made her first semifinal since she had been runner-up at the U.S. Open two years ago. Who would say now she was over and done for? Sasha was already looking forward to the press conference. Entering the locker room her joy gave way to a commiserative feeling. There was Gabriella Galloway whom she had just beaten sitting in the corner of the room. She looked teary. Sasha knew how a loss in a Grand Slam quarterfinal felt. Perhaps a few comforting words would be nice? Sasha hesitated.

She wasn’t disliked by the other players. But the fact that she had been so successful at an early age separated her from her peers. They looked up to her and at the same time feared her as she was known for her will to win. And today she had proven again that this will was unbroken. She might have lost the first set to Gabriella but she fought her way back into the match, saved two match points and forced a tiebreak in the second set which she eventually won. The third set had been her show. She won the match 3-6, 7-6, 6-2.

Sasha crossed the room and Gabriella quickly got up and walked over to her locker, avoiding Sasha’s eyes. While she passed the Czech player Sasha followed her with a side glance. Gabriella had a fine body and her long dark hair looked even darker when it was wet. And she apparently read Tennis Nurse novels. Sasha couldn’t help grinning. She loved the fact that she knew a little secret. Yes, she should say something nice, she decided.

“You made me work really hard,” Sasha said looking at Gabriella’s back.

“Yes.” Gabriella didn’t look her way but was taking out a towel.

“Perhaps your sister will have the chance to get revenge for you in the final,” Sasha said with a smile. There was a chance that Luella Galloway would make it to the final. She had been playing exceptionally well the last couple of days and several experts predicted a final clash between Luella and Sasha. The younger woman turned around to face Sasha. There was cold fury in her eyes.

“If you ever make it to the final,” she spit out before she rushed off to the showers. It sounded like a warning. Sasha was surprised. The outburst was uncalled for and – unlike her sister – Gabriella was known as a mostly friendly though reserved girl. The loss must have hurt her badly. Sasha shook her head.

She took a shower herself and when she got out, Gabriella had already changed, ready to leave the room. Sasha approached the younger player with a smile.

“Listen, I just tried to be nice. I know what it feels like,” she said. Then she winked at Gabriella “Maybe you just need some time-out with a certain tennis nurse to smile again?” It was an attempt to pull Gabriella onto common ground and create the secret unity an allusion to the Tennis Nurse trash novels always produced.

“What are you talking about?” Gabriella looked at her with real incomprehension in her eyes before she left the locker room. Sasha was stunned. This girl had never heard of Tennis Nurse.

***

“Any new names?” Lynn asked Agnes. They were sitting on a couch in a cozy restaurant back room for a special private function. Several players along with a few umpires and officials had gathered for the regular Grand Slam Tennis Nurse Trading Dinner.

“Are you spying on me for the Love Game?” Agnes laughed. Lynn gave her a wink which confirmed Agnes’s suspicion but the French player shook her head.

“Too early to tell, Lynn. There is someone I’m keeping an eye on. I actually gave her a Tennis Nurse novel which she gave back to me – at the players’ party of all places. She insisted she never opened it but the battered state the book is in and her clumsy attempt to give it back under the table suggest she knows the story.”

On a table next to Lynn and Agnes a furious bargaining battle was evolving. Natsumi Takashima was one of the few players who had already read the brand-new Tennis Nurse and The Case of the Handsome Hungarian that had come out around Christmas.

The Japanese demanded three used novels for her new one.

“I’ll give you The Girl with the Broken Racquet and The Mystery of Court 69. But three is too much.” Cecilia García López purred into Natsumi’s ear.

“Chill out, Chili. There is no way I’ll give that book away for only two novels. Also, I’ve already read Court 69 two years ago.”

Mint joined their conversation. She had a huge collection of rare Tennis Nurse novels and Chili knew she could outbid her anytime.

“What about a signed copy of Tennis Nurse and The Secret Tournament?”

Natsumi gasped. The Secret Tournament was a limited edition and the signature in Mint’s copy was of none other than Monica Jordan who was rumored to have had an affair with the unknown author of the series.

“Are you serious?” Natsumi asked but already knew the answer when Mint cracked up laughing.

“No, girl. You know I will never give away that copy,” Mint grinned. “But I could offer three for one. How about The Girl with the Fire Eyes, The Case of the Grumpy Umpire and The Girl who Slipped Through The Net?”

Chili was out of the deal and she knew it. Mint always did that. Whenever Chili was trying to make an impression on someone else Mint would interfere and draw all the attention to herself. Sometimes the Spaniard wondered why she bothered at all. Angrily, she got up and looked for another table. In the far corner she spotted Morgana Doré with a pile of Tennis Nurse novels before her. Only two hours ago the French girl had advanced to the semifinal beating Angela Porovski 11-9 in the third set.

“Is that your way of recovering from a tough three-setter?” Chili asked when she approached Morgana.

“I will not stay long,” Morgana smiled. “I just want to trade some of my copies.” She gestured for Chili to sit down and opened one of her novels.

“Look, I made annotations and explanatory notes for a better understanding. It is really important to know all this background information to fully grasp the impact of these novels,” Morgana explained to an astonished Chili.

“You scribbled all over the books,” Chili exclaimed. The book was messed up with Morgana’s handwriting. She shook her head but Morgana seemed very proud of her work.

“Mais qui, it makes the reading between the lines easier, you see.”

“Well, I assume, most of us understand the sexual innuendo without foot notes.”

“But there’s so much more to it than that,” Morgana almost screamed. Everyone in the room looked up and glanced over to Chili and Morgana. Now the French player addressed the whole room.

“Can’t you see it? Don’t you understand it? These novels are about us.”

***

Gabriella sat down on the bed and shook her head. It was unbelievable! Luella had to be joking! But looking up to her twin sister she knew she wasn’t.

Lulu had just admitted with a sheepish grin that losing the match she had played for Gabriella was mainly due to exhaustion, and that her fatigue was related to a nightly training session with Rafael, their new fitness trainer whom Lulu clearly had chosen because of his stunning resemblance with rock singer Enrique Martinez. What about tennis? What about their professional career?

It was the second tournament in a row where Luella had lost a match while playing for Gabriella in an early round. Soon Gaga would have to worry about her ranking, if Luella continued to mess up their game plans like that. But her sister seemed unperturbed by Gaga’s anger.

“Don’t be so upset,” Luella moaned. “A quarterfinal isn’t too bad. Besides that you lost your match too, playing for me.”

Gabriella gasped. She had lost fair and square against a stronger opponent today. Not because of fatigue caused by nightly activity. For a second, she thought about getting her revenge by deleting all the Enrique Martinez songs from her sister’s MP3 player.

“This is the first match this season I lost playing for you – and I gave it all,” she defended herself furiously. “That’s why we switch matches, Lu! So we have a better chance of winning against players with different game styles.”

But while saying this out loud she only realized that it wasn’t the lost match that bothered her. She could accept a loss. Everyone lost once in a while, having a bad day or facing a strong opponent. She was upset because Luella had taken the loss without hesitation or regrets. Would she have stayed up all night if she had played for herself? Gabriella doubted it. She waited for Lulu’s reply but her twin just shrugged.

Gabriella shook her head. “Next time I will crash the car myself,” she said disappointedly.

“Don’t be so huffy,” Luella snorted. “I know what’s wrong with you. You’re jealous of me.”

That actually made Gabriella laugh. “Jealous?”

“Because I get all the attention, while you stay in your hotel room reading all night like a spinster.” That struck home. “Plus,” Lulu added smugly. “I’m hotter than you.”

Gabriella got up. She needed to get out of the room. Her sister was right. Luella was never lonely. She had a persistent entourage of hot guys lining up for her. What did she know about Gabriella and her feelings?

Gaga had always been glad to have a twin sister as it was more than useful on the tour. They were never lonely like so many of the other players. They stuck together and could rely on each other at any time. But right now she just wanted to be alone. She never wanted to hear any of Luella’s bed stories again, she was fed up with her sister’s constant change of direction when they planned the draw and she was sick of being the younger half, who once more had to wait courtside for her big sister to pick up the prize, the compliments and the ranking points. For the first time in Gabriella’s life she wished she was an only child.

“We look exactly the same,” Gaga said calmly walking to the door. But Luella wouldn’t let go of her that easily.

“At least you’re not the one who has to deal with Sasha’s advances. She hits on me all the time.”

Sasha? Advances? All the time? Already outside the door, Gabriella stopped in her tracks. What was Lulu talking about? She turned around only to face the closed door. Luella had slammed it shut. Again.

***

Blimey O’Reilly!

The words tried to burst out of Tom’s throat but he swallowed them back immediately. Looking for the men’s bathroom he had turned a corner of what he had assumed to be a deserted corridor behind the WTA offices only to witness one of the surprises one usually encountered only during wild players’ parties. There were Martina Rodriguez and Antonia Sapore leaning against each other on a wall, happily smooching and canoodling along.

Astonished, Tom crouched behind some big potted, bushy plants that were stored away in the corridor and watched the scene for a few seconds. Then he slowly pulled his camera out of the large bag he carried over his shoulder and aimed it at the couple. Lost in their caressing, Antonia and Martina didn’t hear the snapping of the camera and when Tom finally let go of the release button he had taken nearly forty photos.

Once he was back in his hotel room, he sat down at the table and started his computer. He had already looked through the pictures on his camera while he was in the elevator. There were some really good ones from an artistic point of view. He wondered how they would look in black and white. But then again he had to admit these pictures were quite simply a nice scoop.

It had been amusing to find himself suddenly in the position of a paparazzo. Perhaps he should consider another change of job, he thought chuckling, and as much as he wasn’t into that shady side of journalism, there was nothing wrong with a harmless play of thoughts and considering the money such a picture could bring.

However, while loading the picture to his computer Tom concluded that  it was probably not really that much money as Martina and Antonia were not very well-known players. Only in their home countries could these picture create a stir. He suddenly realized that such a photo of him and Ted would cause an even bigger scandal in Great Britain as everyone assumed Ted was the biggest lady-killer of the tennis world. His last TV advertisement was clearly feeding on this image.

This photo of Martina and Antonia – as much as it had delighted him taking it while hidden behind the bushes – could definitely harm the two players. Moreover, publishing such a photo was certainly against the rules. Tom was sure about it. Not that he had bothered to actually read the hundreds and hundreds of pages of confidentiality notes he had to sign when he had started his job with the WTA.

Tom bit his lower lip. Should he just delete the pictures? They were too good to be erased. Also, he couldn’t deny that he loved a juicy secret and the thrill of hiding in the shadows had exquisitely lifted his mood. Stumbling upon them and feeling the excitement of shooting something forbidden was a welcome distraction from his everyday duties. He was wondering if someone else knew about Monica’s and Antonia’s affair or if he had exclusive knowledge. He was almost certain that at least he had exclusive picture material.

Of course, he wouldn’t sell the photos but it wouldn’t do anybody any harm if he did a little research here and there. He smiled while thinking back to his teenage years when he had dreamt of becoming an investigative journalist who was taking on the world of politics and crime. Why not take on the world of affairs in the WTA instead? He laughed happily. It was wonderful. He had so much to catch up on. He had to know every single detail about this secret dating world. For how long had they been going at it? Who knew about them? Were there other couples? So many questions that were now dancing in his dizzy head and making him as happy as a boy on Christmas Day.

***

“Who is serving right now?” Gemma squinted her eyes and took a good look at the two doubles players on the court.

“It’s Lulu,” Robyn answered.

“No, it’s Gaga.” Ivana said, who sat next to them. “Lulu started serving, right? It’s 4-4 now, so that must be Gaga.”

All three of them stared intently at the twins for a minute then looked at each other shaking their heads. It was ridiculous to even try telling the sisters apart.

“She served it down the T at 115 mph. That must be Lulu,” Gemma insisted.

“She also got it over the net. So it must be Gaga.” Ivana snickered.

They were watching the quarterfinal between the twins and Monica Jordan and Agnes Lion. The old doubles partners gave the twins a good run-around, chipping and charging with the prowess of their experience. At the net they successfully nullified the high-paced balls of the younger players.

“They could play blindfolded. They click like no other team,” Robyn pondered after the older doubles team had broken Luella and Gabriella and advanced to a 5-4 lead.

“Together they are twenty years older than Lulu and Gaga,” Ivana calculated.

“That’s wicked. I hope I’ll be playing in fifteen, twenty years from now,” Robyn said.

“But you’d rather play mixed with a certain hot player, wouldn’t you?” Gemma gave her friend a huge grin.

“Oh, please. I’m so over Ted.” Robyn waved the thought away.

“Did I miss something?” Ivana looked up, her eyes wide open.

“No,” Robyn protested. “It was just a temporary lapse of sanity. Nothing serious. Besides, he has this famous girlfriend now.”

“An Aussie singer. Felicia Del Castro,” Gemma explained to Ivana. “She worked on the telly and now makes pop music stuff.”

“Yes, I know,” Ivana said slowly. “And she is with Ted Curry?”

“Yes,” Robyn nodded. “Happily ever after if you believe the yellow press.”

For a moment Ivana said nothing, just watched the balls flying over the net until Luella – or perhaps Gaga – smacked one into the net and the applauding spectators brought her back from thinking about the incident she had witnessed last night. She took a deep breath and turned to the two British girls. Then she stopped herself with her mouth open.

Gemma looked up surprised to see the excitement in Ivana’s eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ivana was still unsure what to do.

“What is it?” Now even Robyn insisted on knowing. Ivana rolled her eyes. Too late now to duck out of it.

“Ok, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell anyone, ok?”

Robyn and Gemma looked at each other with huge grins, then looked back at Ivana.

“Sure, we promise.”

Indian Wells, United States

“Sasha is on fire,” Paola Scetti remarked, looking over the mountain ridges of Indian Wells.

“She’s cruising through the matches like a rocket,” Samantha Watts agreed. Sasha Mrachova had beaten Elise Renard in the second round of the tournament, getting a bye in the first, and then had taken out fellow German Stephanie Moeller in the third round in straight sets. Today she would play the top seed Carina Gnocchi, another German.

As the week evolved, it had been the talk in the press room that Sasha was slaying the German girls one after another. If she won against Carina today and Angela Porovski won her match as well, there would be another German – Czech encounter in the semifinal. Everyone was looking forward to it, and it wasn’t unlikely to happen, as Carina had had problems with Sasha’s game in the past. The Czech led the head to head by five to two.

“Elise Renard didn’t look bad, however. She is finally finding her shots again.”

They were sitting outside of the commentary box on a bench for a little chat. There was not too much time left until the first quarterfinal of the day.

“I like to see her play doubles. She will be a fine doubles player one day. Getting better at the net with every match.” Sam checked her watch. Twenty minutes left. Sometimes she envied Paola’s light-hearted handling of time and appointments. Sam had never been late. Not as a player and not since she was working as a commentator.

“It’s good to see the young ones stepping up to the task, even though they still struggle at times,” Paola mused.

Sam nodded. The older players in the Top 10 were struggling with form and there was a chance for the young guns to do real damage this spring. Yelena Kovalenko, a former No. 3, had just fallen out of the Top 10 after the Australian Open, and even though Tamara Parova was one of the more consistent players out there she had once again failed to take home a Grand Slam title in Melbourne. Marieke Bender had been the winner against Sasha in the final. But Marieke injured herself shortly after the Australian Open in a bike accident. She couldn’t play for several weeks and was expected back at the earliest for the European clay season. Only Sasha Mrachova, who belonged neither to the younger generation nor to the players who already pushed the thirty years mark, seemed to draw from a never-ending source of will power.

“It’s been a long, long time coming but I sense a change is gonna come.” Paola hummed.

“I know,” Sam corrected her, but Paola mistook Sam’s answer as confirmation of her observation. They kept on staring at the skyline when Paola suddenly jumped up with a loud gasp.

“Hell, I have an interview!” She checked her watch already knowing she was too late. Sam began to chuckle.

“Who is waiting for you?”

“Ted Curry and that Aussie singer. What’s her name?”

“Felicia Del Castro,” Sam said. “They make a glamorous couple, don’t they? Doesn’t she start her U.S. tour next week?”

“Yes, in L.A. That’s the reason she is here. A little bit of quality time with Ted, I suppose. But today we will take a look behind the scenes and spotlight the grinding fitness regimes these two go through in order to look like they do. Should be fun. Something for the guys and the ladies, you see,” Paola shouted as she hurried down the stairs, waving good-bye to Samantha Watts, who herself got up and went to the commentator box. It was time.

***

There wasn’t much to do other than watching the on-going match. Yelena Kovalenko had just gone up a break on Angela Porovski in the second set. If Yelena could take the set they would head into a decider.

Sasha sighed. She was sitting on a couch in the players’ lounge, waiting. How much of her time did she spend waiting for her match? Sasha couldn’t tell. Too much, definitely. She checked her cell phone again. Her fiancé had asked her to join him in London for a sports store opening. It’s been too long since they had been seen together. The press demanded fodder and her management demanded reassurance that she took her job seriously. She decided to call Jaro. He was a nice guy after all and surely was dealt the more difficult hand as a football player. She looked around to check if no one was listening, but the players’ lounge was eerily empty.

She was just skipping through her phone book for his number when the door opened and a familiar face looked in. Gabriella! Why did she have to join the lounge now to wait for her match? The American would play Amanda Auster who had made an inspiring run to the fourth round in Melbourne as well as here in Indian Wells. Everyone was most surprised, especially as Amanda suddenly seemed able to overcome her annual slumping in the Australian season. Gabriella would have a hard time against the redhead.

Sasha looked away quickly. No need to engage in a conversation with Gaga after their last meeting. Gabriella’s brash reaction in the locker room had caused Sasha to become even more careful. Why on earth did she have to mention Tennis Nurse? That had been grossly negligent of Sasha. The incident had also confused her profoundly. It didn’t make sense. She had heard Gabriella talking to Elise in the bathroom of the Melbourne players’ party. Gabriella did know about the Tennis Nurse novels – whereas Elise denied having read it. Well, that was no wonder. Sasha shook her head thinking about the German girl. But why would Gabriella have denied it when Sasha had alluded to the novel series? She had no reason to mistrust Sasha. And she had not only denied it, but had seemed completely ignorant of it. It just didn’t make sense.

Unless –. A thought suddenly dawned on Sasha. Of course, that must be it! It wasn’t Gaga she had overheard talking to Elise in the rest room, it was Luella! She wrongly assumed it was Gaga, but now that she thought about it, she realized Elise had never mentioned a name. They were twins! They not only looked the same, Sasha scolded herself, they also talked the same. They were just the same. Only Luella was apparently gay and Gabriella bitchy. At least after losing a match. Sasha still couldn’t understand why the otherwise friendly player had displayed such a bad demeanor.

She looked up and turned her head to see where Gabriella had sat down, but stopped midway. Gabriella was standing right behind her smiling down at her.

“Hi,” the American said. She seemed to wait for an invitation to sit down.

“Hey.” Sasha tried to remain reserved.

“May I?” Gaga asked politely. Sasha shrugged.

With a side glance she followed a still smiling Gaga who sat down next to her. From the corner of her eye she watched Gaga staring at the TV monitor. Would she apologize for her outburst? Gabriella just smiled and gave her a quick glance once in a while. Sasha couldn’t believe Gabriella pretended to have forgotten about the locker room encounter. What was going on here? She was just about to run through all the incidents with the Galloway sisters again when Gaga pointed to the screen.

“You have to get ready.”

Sasha looked up at the TV. Recovering from her low, Angela had won the second set and the match against Yelena. Sasha gave Gabriella a confused nod and got up. It was her turn now against Carina, the Knocker, and she was looking forward to it.

***

“Hello, losers!” A beaming Angela Porovski entered the cozy restaurant room of the hotel. The other three German girls were already waiting for her and sipping drinks. They moved over and Angela sat down at the table. Unlike Angela all the other girls had lost their matches today. Elise Renard and Stephanie Moeller lost their doubles match and Carina Gnocchi had just come back from the tournament site being defeated by a fierce Sasha Mrachova.

“We were just saying that it would be so much more fun if there were more joint tournaments,” Stephanie explained to Angela.

“Oh, yeah!” Angela answered, skipping through the menu. “It would definitely increase my chances with Rufino.” Angela smiled when she thought about the hot Spanish lefty.

“I don’t understand what you see in him,” Carina said. “He makes funny sounds when he plays.”

“I like him anyway,” Angela said, giving the girls a big grin. “So, what about you? New favorite hotties, anyone?”

Stephanie laughed. “Not for me. Still busy with my old ones!” Angela shook her head but not without admiration. For the last eight months Stephanie had successfully been managing to have affairs with two ATP players without them knowing of each other. Carina just met Stephanie’s remark with a sneer. She disapproved of the love triangle and looked over to a silent Elise, who seemed to share Carina’s sense of decency.

“It’s just not appropriate, right?” Not waiting for Elise’s answer Carina continued talking. “Who do you like, Elise?” Angela and Stephanie turned around to Elise. They also wanted to know what was going on in their friend’s life. Angela gave her shy colleague an encouraging nod, but Elise almost seemed to panic.

“I don’t like anyone in particular,” she began with faltering lips, when Stephanie already interrupted her with an irritated sigh.

“You are such a bore, do you know that? I cannot believe you are half-French. Aren’t the French supposed to be completely oversexed all the time?” She turned to Carina missing that Elise blushed heavily. “Let’s see what the Italian likes.”

“I like Ted Curry. Because he is a gentleman,” Carina answered with confidence, glad that the attention was back on her.

“Ted Curry a gentlemen?” Stephanie blurted out. “Not every Brit is a gentleman, Carina!”

“He also has a girlfriend,” Angela remarked.

Carina rolled her eyes. She was content with admiring the young Brit from afar. “I can wait,” she said.

“Well, probably you don’t have to wait much longer,” Stephanie said mysteriously. She tended to her drink, sipping it slowly through the straw. Angela and Carina leaned forward.

“What do you know, that we don’t?”

“You’ll never guess it,” Stephanie grinned. “It’s the best. I overheard it in the locker room.”

“Come on,” Angela pressed.

“Ok, I’ll tell you.” Stephanie leaned forward to the other girls, then she whispered, “That new girlfriend of Ted’s – she  is having an affair.” She paused again for a dramatic moment. “With another player, we all know.”

“Who?” Angela and Carina almost screamed in unison. Stephanie grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Ted’s girl is slurping the Oister, my dears!”

Angela was the first to get the pun. She let out a loud wail of excitement. That was fun news, indeed! While Stephanie and Angela giggled, Carina winced and groaned in disgust. Elise also seemed quite taken aback by the news.

“It’s not a big deal, ladies,” Angela addressed her two friends.

“It’s a sin!” Carina exclaimed. Her piety only made Angela and Stephanie scream with laughter.

“They are not married, Carina. She can do whatever she wants,” Stephanie defended the unfaithful girlfriend.

“I don’t care if she sleeps around,” Carina snapped. “But with a girl? That’s just sick!”

A heated argument erupted among Stephanie, Angela and Carina. Elise’s repeated attempts to excuse herself went unnoticed in the loud clamoring. Only Angela noticed when Elise finally got up and left the room.

***

The good thing about dating a tennis player was the lover’s body shape, Tom mused. Ted had muscles everywhere – muscles that popped up unexpectedly when he moved, small muscles, huge muscles and muscles that came in handy when he held Tom. Alright, alright, Tom told himself while lying on his back with his eyes closed, Ted Curry had other qualities as well. He was dashing, very British, very funny and for once, he was playing the same tournament as all the girls. It had been so long since they had seen each other. Actually, now that Tom thought about it, they hadn’t had a night together since the Australian Open. But now they were back together and they had promised each other they would take advantage of it. The tour had a long and cruel schedule for lovebirds. There must be more couples on the tennis circuit, Tom wondered, yet nobody seemed to see them.

“I wonder who else is dating?” Tom asked Ted. They had been talking about Antonia Sapore and Martina Rodriguez when they were briefly overcome by lust and distracted by a quick physical intermezzo. Tom had omitted to tell his lover about the picture he had taken. He needed more information first before he would decide what to do with it, if anything at all.

“Well, Felicia is dating Amanda.”

“That’s not a big secret,” Tom mused. “Everyone knows the Oister is gay.”

“Yes.” Ted seemed not too happy about it.

Tom wondered if Ted felt his masquerade with Felicia could be exposed someday due to the rumors surrounding Amanda.

“Who else do you know of?” He tried to take Ted’s mind off of his own charade.

“I heard something about Sasha once. But she has this soccer guy now. So apparently these were just rumors. You know how that works. Girl plays tennis and hits the ball hard. No boyfriend seen for miles. She got a gay rumor just like that.” Ted snapped his fingers and shrugged. Then he gave Tom a kiss.

“Sure. But perhaps this soccer guy is a beard,” Tom wondered. He kissed Ted back.

“Why are you so interested in the girls. Do I need to worry about you?” Ted laughed.

“Just a little obsession, darling,” Ted giggled.

“How old are you again?” Ted said with a grin, rolling over and pinning Tom to the mattress.

“I’m thirty, love.”

Ted laughed. “30 – Love? Means you are half-way there, Tommy boy.”

They looked at each other, smiling in a moment of silence, and Ted let his fingers travel up his lover’s chest. He leaned forward to Tom’s ear.

“But here comes Ted Curry,” he whispered. “He will never give in. No, looks like he’s going to go down.” Ted slowly moved his lips over Tom’s body.

“30 – 15.” He moved down biting Tom’s left nipple. Tom slapped Ted’s buttock.

“Here we go! Good serve by Richardson into the left service box. But Curry responds with a pin-point winner down the line. 30 – 30. What’s Tom Richardson going to do about it?”

Tom smiled. He would just lean back. That’s what he would do about it. Ted kissed Tom’s stomach.

“30 – 40. Ted Curry with a well-deserved break point. Now, can he make it?” Ted gave his lover a last big grin, then he moved down a little further vanishing under the sheets, and Tom closed his eyes.

***

They had done this a thousand times before and there seemed nothing unusual about the twins playing against each other. There wasn’t a single previous Galloway clash that had escaped from the decision-making process of who would eventually win the match. It might have been comforting to know that they were able to control every single situation in one way or another. But in fact each time the draw foresaw an encounter between them it was a real dilemma. Most of the singles players didn’t understand. They were lone wolves out there and they treated every opponent the same. Only long-time doubles partners and, of course, the couples understood the predicament. Playing your twin meant that either way – whether she lost or Lulu did – she would be saddened by the outcome.

“So, what are we going to do?” Lulu looked at her sister, as always waiting for an answer from Gaga, before she would overturn it and make her own decision.

Gabriella sighed. She looked at the draw sheet again to anticipate the possible next match encounters, but the players’ names began to blur before her eyes and an awful Enrique Martinez song was stuck in her mind. As if this wasn’t enough, there was this curious thing about Sasha’s advances towards Luella that kept her wondering much more than she wanted to admit.

Luella waited for an answer from her sister but Gabriella just shook her head. She couldn’t concentrate.

“Alright,” Luella resolutely said. “I think it would be best if I won this match. Mainly because the other semifinal is Sasha versus Angela and they both seem to think they can adapt to my game easily, so they will expect and train for my big groundshots and will be surprised when you pull them in to the net with your dropshots.”

Gabriella breathed in sharply. The scenario made sense, but it also meant that she was out of the tournament, while Lulu had a chance to pick up many ranking points. Or to be more precise, while Gabriella picked them up for her sister. With a little surprise she noticed that she despised the thought of losing again.

It’s not fair, she wanted to say. Why do I always have to lose? But she stayed silent. This was for both of them. They were in this together and would always be. They shared that odd connection of twins that needed no words and that left others baffled at times.

Also, playing against Luella still produced good entertainment, Gabriella tried to cheer herself up. She recalled  an evening in the off-season when Lulu and she had watched some of their matches for learning purposes, but had to stop as they were laughing so hard at the commentators’ confusion over their resemblance. They simply couldn’t tell the twins apart, mixed up the names and corrected each other constantly.

Gabriella smiled, then finally nodded. Luella was right. She had to let her win this time. She would later watch the final and find consolation in Sam’s and Hugh’s hilarious, helpless commenting.

***

The cool night air caressed her naked skin and gave her goose-bumps. It was getting cold, but Amanda felt no urge to close the window. She had no intention to get up or even move an inch or talk. She just wanted to be held by Felicia in the stillness of the night.

There would never be enough time for them, Amanda thought. Even though she had already decided to stay for a couple of days longer after she had lost her match today. It was the only way to squeeze out a few more hours with Felicia. The singer would also stay for some days. Not because of Amanda though. Unlike the Australian, Ted Curry was winning his matches and was still in the tournament. Felicia would sit in his box and pretend to support him like she had done today.

Yes, it bothered Amanda, even though she didn’t say it. Since the one day when they had met, Felicia had never sat court-side for Amanda’s matches again. That was just fair, Amanda had to admit. With her record racing up the charts, Felicia generally attracted a cloud of photographers and people while Amanda was happy to avoid the spotlight whenever possible. And still – the relationship had become an affair of closed hotel room doors, as Felicia spend most of her free time posing with Ted, supporting him at his matches or even joining his practice. Not once had Felicia joined Amanda and her friends when they went out in the evening. Not during the Australian Open and not here in Indian Wells. Her friends had already stopped asking about Felicia, assuming it was just an affair and nothing serious.

“Have you thought about Charleston?” Amanda had asked Felicia to join her for a week at the Family Circle Cup. Laying on her side and watching the sky outside of the window Amanda could feel Felicia shifting uncomfortably behind her back.

“I’m not sure yet, baby,” Felicia answered. “I don’t think I can cancel my appointments in New York. Maybe I’ll make it for a day or two.”

“Maybe for my birthday?”

Amanda felt cheap mentioning the date. She had suspected that Felicia had forgotten about it. It was pathetic to blackmail your own girlfriend, but what could she do?

“Sure,” Felicia chirped. “I’d love to be there. I’ll see, what I can do.”

Amanda turned around to face her girlfriend.

“I just want to spend more time with you,” she explained. “I understand that you have to plan your European tour and have to work with the musicians and all. And,” she paused to take a deep breath, “of course, you have to spend some time with Ted to cover for him. That’s very nice of you. But in fact, I want you to spend more time with me. Not with Ted.”

There, she had said it. She had blurted it out and now waited for a surprised Felicia to respond. She was sure that Felicia understood the loneliness and longing she felt on the tour. Felicia spent so many months herself now on the road. She was suddenly glad she had said it.

Felicia reached out and took Amanda’s hand.

“Well, I know you don’t like Ted,” Felicia said. “But he’s the reason I can be here with you, right?”

Amanda was aghast. Felicia had gotten in all wrong! Besides, Amanda liked Ted, but she didn’t want him to be the reason Felicia was here. She began to shake her head but Felicia had already pushed her back onto the cushion.

“You are cranky because you lost that match and worry about your ranking. That’s ok. I’ll make you forget your stupid match,” Felicia purred while kissing Amanda’s shoulder, then her neck and her ear.

Amanda closed her eyes. It was not what she wanted from Felicia. But for the moment she would take it.

***

Reluctantly Elise entered the little café. It was 9 A.M. in the morning and she was about to have breakfast with her good friend Agnes. However, she was nervous. As nervous as she was before an important appointment. She also felt bad about lying to Agnes about the Tennis Nurse novel. She had waited for a good moment at the players’ party in Melbourne and she really had been determined to talk to Agnes then, but there had been a constant coming and going of people at the doubles player’s table and when Elise had finally given her the novel back she had become so nervous that she was unable to say anything. Agnes had just looked at the crumpled novel and had said nothing – until yesterday, when the older player invited her to this cozy coffeehouse, before Elise took a plane back to Florida.

Agnes was already sitting at a table near the window. The morning sun warmed the scene and Elise all of a sudden felt comfortable again. This was her friend Agnes. They had known each other for about fifteen years now, ever since Elise’s father was Agnes’s coach and Elise was just picking up a racquet looking up to the Top 10 player, Agnes once was. Elise sat down and they instantly engaged in a cheerful and animated conversation. Their usual conversations were about the tour life, training methods and Elise’s dad, as Agnes knew his quirks and was very talented in imitating his pep talks. It always made Elise scream with laughter.

Elise had also known for a while now that Agnes was in a relationship with a woman, even though she had never seen her with someone. Also, they had never talked about their private lives. That was just the way it was – everyone knew about it, no one talked about it. But there had to be a way to talk about private things, Elise thought. But how to address it, she didn’t know.

“Do you like pets?” Was that a good way to start? Elise wasn’t sure.

“Yes,” Agnes laughed, “but you know that it’s almost impossible to have a pet when you are on the tour. We feed the stray cats though, when we are at home.”

We. Elise knew she had to hold onto that straw, but how? She began playing with the salt shaker.

“You want to see some pics?” Agnes took out her cell phone and looked for the photo album. The pictures showed several cats on a porch. Then there were pictures of a woman. It was Candice Crantz, one of the communications managers. Was she the other half of Agnes’s we? Skipping through the album, Elise saw more and more pictures of Candice and Agnes. On one of them they even held hands. Elise took a deep breath. On the court there were moments when you had to take the plunge and jump in at the deep end. Sometimes these moments came in little sun-flooded cafés.

“Are you together with Candice?”

Elise regretted the question instantly. Surely Agnes found it impertinent and wasn’t it a taboo after all?

But Agnes didn’t give Elise much time to worry. “Yes,” she answered very matter-of-factly. “We’ve been together for six years now.”

“Six years. That’s very long,” Elise said sheepishly and surprised by Agnes’s straight-forward answer but also with admiration. How come she didn’t know about them? Six years! Would she ever have a relationship that long, Elise wondered. Well, first she should have a relationship at all. She sighed inaudibly looking at the couple on the display.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Elise?” Agnes looked at her young friend with a warm smile. Elise stopped breathing. Had Agnes really just asked that? But what had Elise expected? That’s what she was here for – to talk about herself. And Agnes knew it. That’s why she had come here while being afraid of it at the same time. After giving Elise a big hint last year with the Tennis Nurse novel the older player once again had reached out her hand and Elise only had to take it. She just needed a second to gather herself and grasp this moment.

It was the first time Elise was asked this simple question. How many times had she been asked about a boyfriend? How many times had she circumvented the question with an awkward smile and a lame excuse? Being asked about a girl felt so peculiar and so right at the same time, it made her smile. She looked at her older friend in relief, then shook her head.

“No,” she finally said. Elise laughed even though it was a bit sad and embarrassing. After all, she was already twenty years old. But then it didn’t matter at the moment. The sun was warming her face and she felt grateful and calm for the first time in months.

***

What is she doing? This was all Gabriella could think for a couple of games now. Luella was about to serve. Holding tight to her racquet, Gabriella took a deep breath and waited for the ball, but Lulu’s first serve pitifully crashed into the net. For a change, Gaga thought ironically. The other three previous attempts had gone wide. Gabriella got ready again, but Lulu’s second ball never hit the court. Instead, the ball flew high into the air before landing somewhere among the crowd. What a shameful, embarrassing effort!

Trying to hide her disbelief, Gaga made it to the other side to now hopefully get a first serve from her sister. Perhaps they could even play a little. Perhaps hit the ball once or twice. They needed to play at least a little bit of tennis so Gabriella could lose the match. What was going on with Lulu? She was supposed to win and yet she seemed to have switched off her brain. The thought conjured a little smirk on Gabriella’s lips. It looked like the Enrique Martinez overdose had finally gotten to Lulu’s head. Even the crowd seemed to wonder what was happening. This match was a complete mess.

Against their agreement, Gabriella broke her sister after Lulu served a second double fault. But what was Gaga supposed to do? How could she play worse than what her sister produced for the last three games? It was impossible. She wasn’t even given the chance to hit the ball wide. She glanced over the net to catch Lulu’s eye. But her sister had turned away.

For a semifinal, this was just a big joke and a big waste of money for the people who had come here. It was also a big waste of tennis, Gaga suddenly thought. The spectators had to be very disappointed after watching a great match before. Earlier in the afternoon, Sasha had won her match against Angela, which hadn’t been surprising. Even though the German player had had a very good week so far at the tournament, Sasha was on a roll now and it seemed like nobody could stop her anymore.

Anger arose in Gabriella. Enough with the Galloway strategy! She was a tennis player first and if Lulu didn’t want to play then she’d give the crowd her best – serving an ace down the T. And prove to the whole world that she was the one – by smacking the ball back after Lulu finally managed to return one of her serves. She was the one with the impeccable forehand, the reliable serve and a rather dangerous backhand. She hit another relentless shot down the line and after another break the set was over.

“Game and first set, Gabriella Galloway,” Lynn Pebblestone announced.

Numbed by what she had done, Gabriella walked to her seat. She had just won the first set. And in a brilliant way, she should add. No, it wasn’t the match of her life since her sister seemed to be completely missing in action but still good enough to feel the excitement she loved so much, playing her game and going for her shots. Unhindered by a Galloway plot she could play like she always dreamed of playing. At the changeover she met Lulu’s eyes. What the hell are you doing, they seemed to ask. Gaga knew in what state of incomprehension her twin was stuck. Their little scenario had suddenly vanished. She didn’t care anymore who was on the other side of the net.

After the break she got up. She didn’t look at her sister. She didn’t look back at the first set. She went over to the baseline and gave the ball boy a nod. Then she looked over to her sister giving her a nod as well. For once, they would fight it out on the court. She won the match 6-3 6-0. In fifty-two minutes.

Charleston, United States

The roads were packed at that time of day but Candice maneuvered the car through the heavy traffic without hurry. She had turned on the radio which was blasting a rock tune, however the sound that came out of the speakers was muffled by loads and loads of luggage. Monica and Natsumi were sitting in the back inbetween racquet bags and huge suitcases while Agnes, who was sitting in the passenger seat, held a huge bag on her lap.

Their conversation had turned to discussing the young girls and their love lives. They had already discussed Antonia and Monica and Agnes could barely resist telling Monica and Natsumi about the new member to the club – Elise Renard – but something held her back. It didn’t feel right to gossip about Elise. Probably because Agnes had known her since she was a little girl.

I have to take her under my wing, she thought. The young German seemed completely wet behind the ears.

“What about Chili and Mint? Are they together?” Agnes asked to take her mind off Elise.

“I think they are only fuck buddies,” Monica stated.

“These young girls have absolutely no decency,” Candice chuckled and shook her head.

“I get the feeling Chili is somewhat in love with Mint,” Agnes said.

“Well, she used to follow Mint like her shadow,” Monica nodded. “But these days I see her more often with the other Spanish girls. Which is not a surprise though. Mint can be a really nasty one. I like her, but she has a catty side. Must be her family, I guess. Her stepmother is just horrible. No wonder she’s wicked.”

“Oh, she is not wicked. Just lonely perhaps. It’s a hard life, especially the first years. We should do something about it,” Agnes contemplated.

“Good idea. Set her up with someone for doubles and hormones will take care of the rest,” Natsumi grinned.

Agnes and Monica turned their heads. It was the first time that day Natsumi had said anything remotely good-humored. She had been grumpy since they had boarded the car in St. Petersburg.

“Nice that you have found your good mood again,” Monica snickered. “You’ve been a bit of a sourpuss all day.”

It was clearly the wrong thing to say, Agnes realized. Natsumi inhaled sharply, ready for a reply. Then she seemed to decide against a confrontation, instead turning towards the window. A minute of silenced followed, then she turned her head towards Monica.

“It’s Dani’s birthday today,” she said in an angry whisper. “You all seem to have forgotten about it.”

Agnes swallowed. Yes, she had forgotten about it. Or had she deliberately not thought about the date? The car’s roar suddenly seemed even louder, as they had fallen silent again. What could they say to Natsumi? The last meeting with Daniela Grieb, Natsumi’s former doubles partner, had turned out to be very unpleasant. Nobody wanted a reminder.

“Monica,” Candice said looking into the rear mirror. “Any news on Amanda and her pop star?”

“No, just the usual,” Monica replied, but with a sigh of relief. The tension was broken. “Amanda is over the moon. I don’t know if that is a good thing though.”

With a side glance Candice winked at Agnes. They were back to easy-going conversation and with the hotel resort almost in sight Agnes relaxed again.

“Are you worried?”

“Oh, I’m done worrying when it comes to Amanda. I don’t expect a white wedding anyway.”

“Thank God,” Agnes threw in. “Can you imagine Felicia singing one of her songs at the wedding? I would dunk my head into the wedding cake to drown out her voice.”

They all laughed at this thought, even Natsumi.

“Yes,” Monica said slowly. “But there’s something dodgy about Felicia.”

“So, you are worrying,” Agnes said with a wink.

Monica shrugged, but didn’t answer.

“Here we are, ladies,” Candice shouted to the back of the car, driving the huge car up the drive way of the hotel. They stopped in front of the entrance.

“Great,” Agnes replied. “Then we can finally stop talking about all these Janus-faced people.” The remark earned her a stern look from Candice, but no one seemed to have heard the undertone. Natsumi and Candice stepped out of the car and went to the trunk.

Only Monica raised an eyebrow.

“Janus-faced actually means that the god had two faces, one was looking to the past the other to the future,” she said thoughtfully, not moving on her seat. “It symbolizes change and new beginnings.”

Agnes looked at her pensive friend with whom she had shared so many adventures. The past and the future. Good times and bad times. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part. Monica turned her head and they looked each other in the eyes until Candice’s laughter brought them back to the present. They left the car and began unloading their luggage.

***

Gabriella was sitting on her bed in their Florida home surrounded by her bags she was supposed to pack. The twins had played the Miami tournament both making the quarterfinals and in an hour would leave for Charleston, Daniel Island for the next tournament. They only had had two nights to relax and do some washing.

Gabriella liked the apartment they had bought together last year. There was just not enough time to spend here. With a sigh she went back to packing her training shorts and shoes into a huge bag. On top of her dresser was her new trophy from Indian Wells. Like every aspiring player on the tour Gabriella Galloway was dreaming of a Grand Slam but this was her very first big title. Indian Wells. She had won it against all expectations.

Game, set and match, Galloway. She still could hear the umpire’s voice piercing through the applause and through her own heartbeat to announce the score and these four words that every tennis players wanted to hear. Game. Set. And. Match. Followed by your own name. Excited by the sudden will to win that had appeared during her semifinal when she had played her twin sister, Gabriella had crushed Sasha Mrachova in the final. She had beaten a player everyone had expected to win – from the experts to herself. She was still smiling when she thought about the moment of victory.

Only the quarrel she had with Luella a few minutes after defeating her sister in the semifinal was still nagging. By winning the match Gabriella had betrayed their secret pact and Lulu had stormed out of the locker rooms not waiting for Gaga’s explanation. Gabriella hadn’t seen her after nor for dinner. She was sure Luella had hitched a ride with Rafael to cool off.

The next day Gabriella had won against Sasha and as if nothing had happened between them, Luella had showed up in the locker room to congratulate her. Of course, she had watched the match from the player’s box because nobody was supposed to know that they had gone into a fight over their failed illegal pact. It was a big win for Gaga. And a big win for the Galloway sisters.

“I’m very proud of my little sister,” Lulu had told a reporter after the win. She always referred to Gaga as her little sister, due the simple fact that Gabriella was born fifteen minutes after Luella. They had hugged, tightly, and had turned the page. Whatever had happened during their semifinal would become part of the bigger plan.

Gabriella zipped her last bag and scanned her hotel room to check that she hadn’t forgotten anything. Luella was waiting for her outside on the curb.

“Ready for some family action?”

The Family Circle Cup was an important event but the atmosphere was laid-back and familiar. Gaga gave her big sister a nod and Rafael, who had come to take her bags a friendly smile. She knew that she owed part of her sister’s good mood and sudden amnesia over the Indian Wells semifinal to their so-called trainer Rafael who had – quite literally – licked every single one of Lulu’s wounds.

***

As Elise reached the corner and turned into the alley that led to the practice courts, the sun blinded her and she stopped to take out a visor from her racquet bag. She had left her father at the players’ service desk to sign some papers and make some reservations.

Putting on her visor, the sound of a ball hitting a racquet made her look up. With curiosity she shouldered her bag again and approached the court it came from. Of course, she knew the crack of a racquet hitting a tennis ball by heart but this sound was different. It was just perfect, a loud, full smack when the ball was hit in the sweet spot of the racquet. Before Elise had realized who was practicing, she had already visualized the firm grip of the hand on the handle, the work of the wrist, the position of the feet.

Amanda Auster. The Australian was focused on the balls her coach was hitting over the net. Elise approached the fence, yet remained at an angle that allowed her to hide from the Australian, and dropped her bag next to her feet. She didn’t want to bother the player. Moreover, she didn’t want to be seen like that, literally studying Amanda’s moves. The way the Australian struck every single one of the balls was tantalizing. Her hits were perfectly clean, almost effortless, Elise thought, realizing that she was chewing on her lower lip.

Elise knew it was not only the Australian’s movement and display of talent that fascinated her, and she restrained herself and quietly enough reached for her racquet bag. She had to keep her distance from the Australian. She had to refocus – on tennis, for a change, she scolded herself. She really wanted to do well in this tournament she had won two years ago. Last year she got injured and couldn’t defend her title. Carina had won the final – against Amanda.

Amanda. Elise sighed. Amanda seemed to lurk behind every corner of her mind. There was no getting away from her. The young German allowed herself one last look at the lean body in front of her. Amanda was with Felicia and everyone seemed to talk about it now. Apparently, Amanda had been sighted in Australia with Felicia in a restaurant, and the theories varied between speculations that they were only friends from school and them being lovers. The latter, however, wasn’t taken seriously at all, as Felicia was with Ted. Apart from Amanda’s closest friends only Elise seemed to know for certain that Amanda was in a relationship with Felicia, as she had heard it with her own ears during the Australian Open, when Amanda had spoken to Monica about the pop singer.

How unlucky it had been for Elise to sit behind those palm trees and listen in on the conversation. She wished she didn’t know. Not only had it crushed her fatuous dreams she had had about Amanda and herself, but now she knew something but had no one to talk to about it, as she really didn’t want to contribute to the rumor mill. She shook her head in desperation. It was really time to stop thinking about Amanda. Most of all, she needed to stop watching her. Perving. A word she had learned from the British girls. Yes, that’s what she was doing. She couldn’t deny it. Angered by her own weakness Elise was about to turn on her heels to go and find another court when a familiar voice caught her off-guard.

***

“Fascinating how she strikes the ball, isn’t it?”

Elise spun around, and Agnes felt instantly sorry that she had surprised her friend while worshipping Amanda’s game.

“Yes, it is,” the German said awkwardly, then blushed and looked like she was about to leave. Agnes smiled at her young friend. She almost laughed out loud seeing the sheepish look on Elise’s face. She had clearly caught Elise in the act of spying on Amanda. Well, it wasn’t hard to fancy the Australian player, she thought. Amanda was in great shape and her personality was endearing. Other than that Elise would probably find a girl her own age more appealing.

She followed Elise back to the pathway and decided to accompany her friend to the practice court before heading back to the locker rooms. Even though they hadn’t talked about Elise again, Agnes felt that Elise was seeking her company more often now, content to be around someone who could understand her experience and seemed settled in a relationship without emotional troubles. Agnes knew how important it was to have positive role models. She liked the idea that she could be one. She took a look at Elise again, who was silently walking next to her. Especially for this girl whom she’d known for so long. When Elise had been a little girl of five, she used to visit her traveling dad whenever possible. Sitting next to the courts he watched Agnes hit balls for hours without ever getting tired of it. Back then Elise had been a self-assured, sometimes even sassy and loudmouthed kid, who had begged Agnes to show her how to hold a racquet so she could hit the ball herself. She had always gotten her way in the end.

Nowadays she seemed more guarded, and even though Agnes was sure the main reason was Elise’s long injury break and the following struggle to make it back up the rankings, the older player couldn’t help feeling that Elise’s coming to terms with herself was a big part of her new humbleness and maturity. It was a process that took its time and very often needed isolation to unfold.

Laying her arm over Elise’s shoulders she turned her head to the young German.

“By the way, are you still looking for a doubles partner, Elise? Entry deadline is today.”

Smiling brightly at the question, Elise shook her head.

“No, I have found one! I will play with Angela.”

Agnes raised a surprised eyebrow but she smiled back at the young player. Angela Porovski was Elise’s German Fed Cup colleague and fun to be with. Elise would be in good hands and she should enjoy her time on the court. Agnes might have had other plans in mind for Elise but she would find another way to introduce her to the doubles girls eventually.

***

Amanda felt great. Her practice had been going great. She was hitting the ball with incredible precision and power, even Dan Metic, her coach, was impressed. In one rally she moved Dan from one corner to the other until she finished him off by hitting one of her infamous inside-out forehands while a huffing and puffing Dan was crying out for mercy. It was great fun and Dan gave her a wink afterwards knowing that Amanda was looking forward to an evening on cloud nine.

Smiling to herself Amanda entered the hotel lobby. She had been smiling all day and it seemed everyone was smiling with her. Her happiness had already provoked a funny incident earlier on the practice courts. All of a sudden Natsumi Takashima came running towards Amanda, waving her arms like a mad woman.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it? I missed it again!” Natsumi had flung her arms around a surprised Amanda begging for forgiveness. No, Amanda explained to Natsumi while peeling her Japanese friend off her neck. Her birthday was only tomorrow. There was something else that made her smile.

While she approached the reception desk of the hotel, Amanda wondered if Felicia was already waiting for her in bed. Her plane had landed when Amanda was still cooling down from her practice and they had agreed to meet directly in the hotel room they had decided to share. Using her magic smile, Amanda asked the receptionist for the keys. She was just about to ask if Miss Del Castro had already taken the room, when the young woman handed her the keys and a little envelope.

“Here’s also a note for you,” the receptionist explained with a smile. Thanking the girl Amanda turned away and walking to the elevator she ripped open the envelope. The note was from Felicia and it made Amanda stop in her tracks. Her racquet bag slipped to the floor but she hardly realized it. Felicia was unable to make it to Charleston today, the note said. There were urgent matters she had to discuss with Ted Curry. Felicia would call her tomorrow.

Amanda went up to her room and sat down on the bed. She took out her mobile from her bag beginning to dial Felicia’s number. Then she put it down quickly. Ted Curry, she thought angrily. What could be more urgent than celebrating her birthday tonight?

She lay down on the bed. Why didn’t Felicia call her? What was she discussing with Ted? She shook her head. Suddenly she felt dead tired. Slowly she pulled off her sneakers and slipped under the sheets. Rolling over to the side she wondered if Felicia was finally about to ditch Ted, so she and Amanda could spend more time together. Maybe Felicia wanted to tell her tomorrow as a birthday present. Convincing herself that this must be the reason she fell into a fitful sleep.

***

The Danny’s on Ann Street was one of the few gay bars in Charleston and the small room was packed with a crowd of chatting male and female patrons. Tom had decided to head out tonight as he had finished typing his article early and for once had no desire to hang out with the rest of the communications staff, he had become friends with. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. Just one or two more, he told himself, then he would go back to the hotel. He had to be fit tomorrow for two pre-match interviews and some fun stuff with Mint Rickenbacher and Cecilia García López.

He looked around at the bar and glancing over at the tables in the back almost spilled his beer upon the cute bartender. There was Candice Crantz, his boss. He felt a sudden hot rush of blood streaming to his head but then steadied himself. What did he care if she saw him in a gay bar? She was probably a lesbian herself, sitting here with two other women. Tom took a closer look at Candice’s entourage. They were doubles players – that much he knew. But as he was assigned to work mostly with the younger, upcoming players he couldn’t come up with their names.

“Do you know them?” a voice behind him asked. Tom turned around. A young woman with big glasses was standing behind him. She nodded over his shoulder in the direction of Candice and the two doubles players.

“Maybe,” Tom replied, curious about the question that had come out of the blue. The girl smiled.

“I thought so,” she said complacently. “I’ve never seen you here before, so I guessed you worked at the tournament.”

Tom nodded.

“It’s always very busy here during the Family Circle Cup,” the girl continued. “You might even get a chance to pick up a player.”

“Is that what you are here for?” Tom asked with a grin. He liked the self-assured woman. She laughed at the thought shaking her head. No, she was on holidays with her family who lived here, she explained. But she would cover some of the matches on her blog site.

“You write a blog?” Tom loved the idea.

“Yeah, it’s called Urban Skies. Just thoughts and tidbits about my life,” she said with a shrug. “Mostly my love life, I should say. But as I live in New York it’s also about the city. Hence the name.” She gave him a wink.

“You write about your love life?” Tom wondered.

“It’s anonymous,” she laughed. Now, that was interesting, Tom thought. He raised his eyebrows as a thought crossed his mind.

“I’m Melanie, by the way. See, now you know more than most of my readers do.”

Tom also introduced himself and explaining what he did in Charleston they sat down at a table.

“So you do interviews and photo shoots with the players?” Melanie inquired.

Tom nodded.

“Have you done interviews with Monica and Agnes?” she asked. Tom was dumbfounded. He knew most of the players by now, but he had not heard of these two yet. He shook his head.

“Who’s that?” he asked. Now it was Melanie’s turn to look flabbergasted.

“Well, them, of course,” she nodded in the direction of the doubles players. Tom shrugged in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m only catching up now with doubles players. They are not my focus, you see,” he explained.

“Doubles my ass,” Melanie snorted. “Monica Jordan and Agnes Lion are legends, dude. They won several single slams in their prime. You really should do your homework.” She shook her head in amazement. “Who employed you for heaven’s sake?”

Tom laughed at the thought that his boss was sitting in the same bar but kept it to himself. He directed the conversation to Melanie’s blog again. An idea had taken hold of him and he needed to know how he could set up his own.

***

The knock on the door made Elise jump up. Smiling she opened the door and let Angela in. They had rooms next to each other and had decided to spend the evening watching a movie and talking doubles tactics. Angela was holding up two bottles grinning mischievously.

“Beer?” Elise was slightly distressed. They had a match tomorrow.

“Amiplörre,” Angela corrected her. “It’s basically water.”

Angela sat down on Elise’s hotel bed while Elise began to take out her DVD collection. She was reading the titles out loud but Angela shook her head. None of the movies seemed to interest her.

“Can I ask you something?” Angela finally said.

Elise nodded without looking up.

“You don’t really like talking about guys, do you?” She looked at Elise who suddenly felt her hands sweating. That question had come out of nowhere. She didn’t dare look up.

“Sure, I do,” Elise answered.

“I was wondering – ,” Angela began with a questioning look, but then stopped.

“What?” Elise could hear her own voice and the panic in it. What was Angela wondering? Hopefully, she only assumed that Elise was simply inexperienced. Elise had the feeling, they all believed she was still a virgin, which was completely embarrassing – and true. But the other thing? They would have never guessed that. No one ever had. Probably Angela wanted to set her up with a male player. That must be it. Elise breathed in deeply and tried to relax. Yes, that must be it. She could handle that. Just say no, she decided.

“What are you wondering,” she asked again, this time more friendly.

Angela shook her head. It looked like she had changed her mind. Elise picked up her DVD box again. She was just about to read out a title again, when Angela opened her mouth.

“Are you into girls?”

Bingo! This was the worst case scenario! Elise was baffled. Staring at her DVD box she was silently reading the DVD title a hundred times over until finally she looked up to meet Angela’s eyes. There was not one reasonable word coming into her mind. She could say yes, of course. But she couldn’t. On the other hand she didn’t want to lie to her friend. She knew she had to say something soon. But she was paralyzed.

“Wow,” Angela finally said reading Elise’s silence correctly. “Who would have thought?”

Well, Angela obviously. Had the other girls been talking about her, Elise wondered. They probably had placed bets on her. She hated the thought that Carina knew about her and probably told others with that look of disgust on her face. But what could she do about it now?

Elise looked at Angela and shrugged in defeat. If they all knew, so be it. Angela was still sitting on the bed holding the two beer bottles but upon seeing Elise’s distress she laughed compassionately.

“Oh, Elise. You know, I’m cool with it, don’t you?”

She slipped from the bed and sat down next to Elise. She looked at her friend until Elise nodded. Yes, Angela seemed fine with it.

“Do the others know?” Elise feared the answer, but Angela shook her head.

“I don’t think so, and I won’t say a word. Come on. Take this.” Angela handed Elise the beer bottle. “Let’s talk girls for a change, alright?”

Elise wasn’t sure she wanted to. What could she say anyway? But Angela had already placed her arm around Elise’s shoulder and clinked their bottles.

“Now, tell me, Miss Renard, what’s your type?”

***

There had been a cake with candles and a flower bouquet from the tournament director. The attempt of a dozen fellow players to sing “Happy Birthday” for Amanda went down in cackles as they switched into their respective native tongues one after another. Besides that, the athletes were horribly unmusical. The cacophony brought fits of laughter to everyone who attended Amanda’s impromptu birthday celebration and it took Amanda’s mind off of the worrisome thoughts she had had all night. Felicia hadn’t called yet but for a short moment the redhead had forgotten about it. Now she sat down on the couch to gather her breath and all her concerns came flooding back to her.

“This cake is a dream,” Monica sighed. She approached Amanda chewing on a mouthful of the strawberry cake. “I just cannot stop.”

“I just hope there will be some left after my match. I only had half a piece,” Amanda said checking her watch. She was scheduled first on center court to play Robyn Lawrence in less than an hour.

“Well, the match should be a piece of cake itself.”

Monica sat down next to Amanda. Robyn was a good player but still no match for Amanda. However, Amanda only shrugged. Monica looked her young friend over, realizing that something had to be wrong. Wasn’t Felicia supposed to be here?

“How’s my little Wiz Kid doing?”

The nickname made Amanda smile. Ever since she was 12 years old she had been called that name. Yet, her Australian fans seemed to fancy calling her “Oister” for obvious reasons. She didn’t like it. She still preferred “Wiz Kid”. Before she could give Monica an answer her phone rang. She looked at the display and – as if a light bulb had been switched on – she had to smile. Giving Monica a little sign that she would be back in a second she got up and hurried outside to take the call.

“Happy, happy Birthday, baby,” Felicia was singing as soon as Amanda had answered the call. It was actually the first time Amanda heard her sing apart from the records she had bought eventually even though the music was not her taste. She had a lovely voice, Amanda thought. Suddenly she felt all better.

“When will you arrive,” Amanda asked after the serenade. She checked her watch again. Only forty minutes left. She needed to get ready but first she wanted to know if Felicia finally had ended the charade with Ted Curry.

“Darling, I hate to tell you, especially since it’s your Birthday today, but I won’t be able to come.”

Amanda felt her heart slump.

“Why?” she asked weakly.

“You know I talked to Ted yesterday. Apparently, there are rumors about you and me, Amanda. We cannot have that.”

Amanda was confused. We? Of course, she didn’t like rumors, but most rumors would die on their own. She knew that from experience.

“Where did these rumors originate?” she demanded to know.

“Well, all the players seem to know,” Felicia explained.

“But that’s alright.” Amanda laughed in relief. “Nobody will say a word. That’s just a rule, you see. You don’t have to worry.”

“But I do,” Felicia said impatiently. “And Ted is also concerned. So, we have decided that I won’t see you for a while.”

The sudden realization that ‘we’ included Felicia and Ted instead of Amanda felt like a punch in Amanda’s stomach.

“That’s not how I envision a relationship,” she said with a tight voice. She could hear Felicia exhale in surprise, followed by a long silence.

“Amanda, I’m sorry,” Felicia finally said. “You see, I’m flying around the world, you’re flying around the world. I’m afraid there was a misunderstanding. I’m really sorry. Take care.” Before Amanda could say something she had hung up. Not bothering to go back into the players’ lounge Amanda sluggishly headed to the locker rooms.

***

Lynn Pepplestone had looked forward to this second round match. She liked Amanda’s game and enjoyed umpiring at her matches, even though she remained neutral in behavior and tone.

“Love – 40,” she said into the microphone.

She wished she could have said something different, but there were the facts right in front of her. Robyn Lawrence had three break points on Amanda Auster’s serve.

Amanda went over to the other side of the baseline and accepted two balls from the ball girl behind her. One she tucked underneath her skirt, the other she let bounce a couple of times. Then she tensed her muscles and tossed the ball high in the air. Too high. She wouldn’t be able to hit it in her usual rhythm so she let it fall back to the ground and started anew.

Lynn Pebblestone kept a straight face but she was amazed. One thing that was reliable in Amanda’s game was her serve. She could serve like a machine. Her ball toss was never too high. At least Lynn couldn’t recall any match where her serve was unreliable and this was already the third time in this match she had to start her serve again. Lynn followed the ball over the net. It kicked up high and Robyn Lawrence struggled to get it back, but she did. Her return landed directly in Amanda’s strike zone. The red-haired player stepped back with her right foot ready to smack the ball with her impeccable forehand. The loud crack when the ball hit the racquet frame produced a murmur of disappointment in the audience as they saw the ball flying high into the air and wide into the stands. Robyn had broken Amanda to love and was now leading 5-1.

That was incredible, Lynn thought. Amanda was an excellent clay court player while Robyn had grown up playing on hard courts and grass mostly. There was no doubt that Amanda should win this match easily. Besides that, she was the defending champion. But it was not so much the British youngster’s effort but Amanda’s lack of performance that had put her in this position. Robyn’s service game went to Deuce. Lynn could tell that Amanda tried to get into the match but also Robyn had made up her mind. She sensed there was a chance to advance to the next round and claim a victory over a Top 10 player. She pulled herself together, managed to get an AD point and served out the game and the set.

During the break Lynn glanced into the stands. The crowd was taking their seats and Lynn liked the look of excitement on their faces. Sometimes she spotted celebrities or actors at the matches, but that happened usually at the Grand Slams. There were players though. She had already made out Monica Jordan in the block reserved for officials and players, as well as Amanda’s friend Natsumi Takashima, who was sitting next to Monica. Checking her watch she advised the crowd to take their seats quickly.

“Time,” Lynn said. Both players got up and walked to the service line.

Lynn checked back on the crowd. There was still someone squeezing through the rows to an unoccupied seat in the upper half of the stands. It was Elise Renard. Lynn looked at Amanda to see if she had noticed Elise’s arrival, but the Australian player remained stone-faced and began serving. Once in a while Lynn glanced up to Elise but with every time Amanda got broken Elise looked more sad and confused. Before Robyn Lawrence converted her match point, Elise had left the stadium.

***

There were the facts. Right before her eyes. She had written them down and now looked them over and over again. Sasha knew she was right, but she couldn’t believe it. This was just too incredible, too daring to be true. She looked up from the little black note book she had filled with her scribbling over the last five days and glanced through the bushes onto the court in front of her. Luella and Gabriella had been hitting balls for the last thirty minutes. Their coach was giving them instructions once in a while. Everything looked normal, but Sasha knew it wasn’t.

It wasn’t just the incident with Gabriella in the locker room that had confused her. Sure, the behavior had been surprising, but sometimes a loss made you cranky and afterwards you pretended to have forgotten about your outbursts. Sasha could understand that. But what was more striking was Gabriella’s playing style. They had faced each other in the quarterfinal of the Australian Open and Sasha had won the encounter in three sets after Gabriella had two match points. But she got tight and in the end lost track of first her game and then the match. In the end it had been easy to win against the more inexperienced player.

Only a few weeks later they played again in the final of Indian Wells. Knowing Gabriella’s game style Sasha went into the match with a clear plan. She would basically play like she had in the Australian Open quarterfinal. But in Indian Wells Gabriella was returning well. She hit winners with her backhand and her forehand and her service percentage looked great. Before Sasha could adjust to her opponents new-found wit and energy she had lost the first set.

The second set wasn’t better from her point of view. Gaga held her service games and had forced Sasha to come to the net where she had never felt comfortable. Even the baseline rallies went Gabriella’s way. In the end Sasha was able to fight her way back into the match and gave it all she could but was still outplayed by the younger player. Her opponent’s drastic change in game style and spirit however had taken her by surprise. And now, Sasha was sure she knew why.

During the whole last week in Miami she had observed the Galloway twins. Not only their practice sessions but also their matches whenever possible. It was hard to tell them apart. Even the commentators had problems during their doubles matches. But with time Sasha had spotted the little differences that made out their characters. Little tics and gestures they couldn’t unlearn.

During one of the matches a lightbulb went on. She understood that while she had indeed played Gabriella in the Indian Wells final it had in fact been Luella in the Australian Open quarterfinal, even though the score board showed Gabriella Galloway’s name. The twins were switching matches.

So it had been Luella who had been unfriendly in the locker room and had been clueless about the Tennis Nurse novels? While it was Gaga in the bathroom talking to Elise? This seemed to make much more sense now. Sometimes it was Luella playing for Gabriella, sometimes the other way round. Sasha was intrigued. That was just as risky as what she was doing with Jaro. She liked it. She also loved the fact that she knew about it.

Stuttgart, Germany

Lying in her hotel room bed, Elise stared at the ceiling. The alarm bell had woken her fifteen minutes ago and she had gotten up immediately to open the window and let in the cool morning air before retreating again to the warm cavity of the blanket.

It was a new day, and Elise knew that it could only be a good day. Stuttgart had been a great tournament so far. Due to her injury last year she had missed the tournament and had no points to defend. Without the pressure she had made the third round in singles where she was defeated by Tamara Parova, a feisty and dangerous player. Even though the loss had hurt for a moment she knew that it was a good result and she could build on it. Still struggling in the Australian tournaments she had become better and more confident step by step and now she was sure that one day she could get her old ranking back, perhaps even finish the year in the Top 50  again.

Even though she had lost the quarterfinal she was still in the tournament. Like in Charleston she was playing doubles again and today was semifinals day. Cheered by the German fans her doubles team had been unexpectedly successful. Today they could even make it to the final.

Feeling the warmth of her own body underneath the sheets Elise thought back a week, when Agnes had taken her out to dinner with Candice and Monica. Even though she felt it looked a bit weird to hang out with people who were that much older than her she felt comfortable with them. So much had happened in only a few weeks after she had talked to Agnes in the little café in Indian Wells. The fact that her friend Angela knew about her now and couldn’t care less about Elise’s preferences gave her a new confidence. How relaxing it was that she didn’t have to pretend anymore when she was around Angela. She could even handle Stephanie’s teasing much better, countering with a joke once, which she felt had gained her Stephanie’s respect.

Elise closed her eyes one last time before she had to get up. Her team would play against favorites Martina Rodriguez and Antonia Sapore and could face Stephanie and Angela tomorrow in the final if they won today. Her team. Elise bit her lip thinking about it.

The team was her and Amanda Auster.

Just when they had finished their dinner, Monica had received a phone call and after a few minutes suggested that the caller should come to the restaurant. Soon, a doggish Amanda had joined them and had reluctantly sat down next to Elise. After her initial surprise and heart flutter, Elise had managed to converse with Amanda and the others in a friendly and cheerful tone, successfully hiding her confusion and excitement. If there was one thing she wanted and feared just the same it was sitting close to Amanda, feeling her moves and listening to her Australian accent.

With three very successful doubles players on one table the conversation soon turned to doubles tactics and doubles partnerships and eventually the inevitable happened.

“Why don’t you two play together?” Monica had asked Elise and Amanda while munching an Apfelstrudel with vanilla sauce. In unison, both players shook their head vehemently and dismissed the suggestion. Amanda mumbled something about focusing on singles while Elise just looked for an easy way out unable to find one. It would only hurt to spend time with Amanda since she was not available. But the more they protested the more the older girls leaned on them and ultimately they had to say yes.

Elise had told herself to behave calmly and professionally and she had executed her plan very well but recapitulating the week she also had to admit that she was happy. Happy to take the court with Amanda, to sit next to her, to hit balls with her, to talk and laugh with her. It was all she wanted. It was what she had feared. Being so close, but never getting there.

Elise knew that this would hurt in the end as Amanda seemed not interested at all in Elise beyond playing tennis. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling Elise also knew that it would be a good day.

***

Monica had taken a seat in the block reserved for press and tournament officials. While watching the match she checked her mobile once in a while, updated her social media profiles and tweeted news to the world. A quick glance down onto the court confirmed what she had suspected since she had seen Amanda and Elise playing together two days ago in their first round match.

These two clicked in an amazing way. The German-Australian team were blasting the experienced doubles team of Antonia Sapore and Martina Rodriguez off the court with powerful and precise serving and a witty combination of well-paced ground strokes and skillful volleying. They had taken the first set in only thirty-two minutes and there was no reason to believe they could lose the second. They were already up a break and when they won the next game the German spectators supported them with loud clapping.

Quietly applauding herself a little bit for setting Amanda and Elise up to play doubles, Monica Jordan leaned back during the change of ends, when all of a sudden a loud voice called out for her.

“Monica, I need to talk to you,” Morgana Doré exclaimed over the crowd noise while squeezing through the seats. With a heavy sigh and an even heavier looking bag Morgana Doré sat down next to Monica.

“Sure,” Monica said in surprise. “What is it?”

Morgana looked around suspiciously. The older player wondered what was going on and took a look around as well. Nobody seemed to have noticed Morgana but instead the crowd looked at the court, as the players went to the baseline again. Morgana put down the bag and pulled out an old copy of Tennis Nurse and The Second Service.

“Look,” she whispered opening the book and pointing to an underlined passage. “This is you, right?”

Monica took her time looking at the passage. But there was no need to read it. The paragraph described a young girl, who never traveled with a coach or entourage. Her trademark shot was a beautiful one-handed backhand down the line. Monica had to laugh. How often had she been asked this question?

“No, that is not me.” She smiled broadly at the French player. Morgana did not look convinced. She pulled out another two novels from her bag, shaking her head.

“No, no. See here,” she said skimming through the pages to find the right passage. “This description is a reference to your ’99 U.S. Open win. It’s an exact point-by-point report of your shot-making in the last game.” Her voice almost cracked with excitement.

“This could refer to any match, Morgana.” Monica was beginning to get annoyed by the overeager Frenchwoman.

Morgana leaned back and gave Monica a long look ready to say something. But then she changed her mind. Not bothering to open the second book she had taken out she stuffed the novels back into her back. She turned to Monica.

“I know that these books are about real players. About you, about Agnes, about Sasha and even me. I think you know who writes these books.”

Taken aback by the fierce determination she heard in Morgana’s voice, Monica watched the French player as she left the stands with her bag full of Tennis Nurse novels and sighed. In every generation of players there was one who asked too many questions. One player who would dig and dig and in the end got nowhere.

The crowd’s loud explosion of triumph brought her back to the tennis match that was taking place down on the clay court. Amanda and Elise had won and would advance to the final tomorrow. With broad smiles on their faces they embraced to celebrate the victory.

***

Natsumi Takashima put down her menu on the table. She would go for a big cheeseburger today.

Martina, Antonia and Mint had accepted her invitation to dine out together even though they had nothing to celebrate. Stuttgart had promised to become a rather easy tournament considering the doubles draw but unexpectedly, Martina and Antonia had lost to a nonetheless refreshing and effective new team, Elise and Amanda, while Mint and Natsumi had lost to Angela and Stephanie. If it weren’t for Amanda, it could have been a German conspiracy. All the German players were suddenly thriving in their hometown tournament, even against the best doubles players of the moment.

“If these two keep on playing together they will go far,” Martina mumbled while studying the menu.

“They are mainly singles players. I don’t see Amanda concentrating on doubles more,” Natsumi considered. “And Elise is trying to get her singles ranking back.”

“She is such a cutie,” Antonia chuckled. “I was surprised Amanda was able to serve.” Natsumi and Martina cracked a smile over that comment. It was true. Elise’s assets were able to take your concentration off the tennis easily.

“Amanda is a true professional,” Natsumi joked. “Unlike us, apparently, who would go down in flames of lust being on the same court as Miss Renard.”

“Oh, can we speak about someone else? I can’t stand Elise.” Mint rolled her eyes as if to highlight her words. Natsumi was surprised. Had something happened in the past between Elise and Mint? But she couldn’t recall these two even talking to each other. Perhaps Mint was jealous of Elise, who was well-liked by everyone and seemed to have great support by her parents. Mint was a loner sometimes, who never talked about her parents and only in the last two tournaments she had opened up to Natsumi a bit while playing doubles. Natsumi sighed. The usual girl fight in the summer camp, she assumed. She liked Elise. In fact, she had hoped that the unexpected partnership was able to take Amanda’s mind off things. She seemed to have hit rock bottom since her breakup with Felicia but refused to talk about it.

“Well, looks like Elise still has a positive impact on Amanda. The girl was all smiles today. Hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Because they were winning.” It seemed that Mint couldn’t be convinced today. Looking for support, Natsumi turned towards Martina and Antonia who hadn’t said a word yet. They were suspiciously eyeing the German food the waitress had just brought.

“Amanda should take advantage,” Antonia said with a grin. French girls are always up for good fun.”

“Aussie kisses versus French kisses,” Martina grinned. “I would love to see that kind of cultural encounter.”

“She’s German,” Mint sneered. “And she is boring.”

Natsumi rolled her eyes. “Well, I would put it a bit differently, but Mint is right. Elise is only half French and she’s not the type to fool around with.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have alluded to Elise and Amanda in the first place because now she had to deal with a grumpy Mint and a couple going wild.

“I just like to see Amanda play doubles again,” she explained. “Playing doubles puts her at ease. Plus, she is volleying like a goddess.”

“Now, that is right,” Antonia agreed. “Why can’t she do it when she is alone on the court?”

“Because it’s a different game,” Mint piped up.

Natsumi relaxed. They were back to discussing tennis and seeing Antonia, Monica and Mint engaging in an in-depth conversation of how playing doubles made you a better singles player she allowed herself to wonder about Amanda and Elise again. It wasn’t quite right that playing doubles relaxed Amanda. The truth was, it was Elise who put Amanda at ease. Easily.

***

Amanda couldn’t help but smile about the peculiar situation she was in. There she was in another final. Doubles final, she should add. Although she hadn’t planned to play doubles at all. As reluctant as she had been at the beginning, when Monica, Agnes and Candice tried to convince the two girls to give it a go, now she was even more satisfied that she had given in to their pleas.

The week with Elise had been fun and they were a good team. Even though Elise lacked Amanda’s doubles experience and consistency at the net she made up for it with peppered serves and her excellent forehand. She was also a fast learner who listened to Amanda’s tactical advice eager to implement her tips immediately, however not lacking the confidence to make quick decisions of her own.

When Amanda had entered the restaurant, she was initially surprised to see Elise in the company of Monica Jordan and the couple. But then she had remembered that Elise’s dad used to coach Agnes Lion and that Agnes and Elise had to have known each other for at least a decade. She would have preferred to talk to Monica alone as she had felt horrible that night and needed to talk to someone about the whole mess with Felicia, but with a straight girl around she didn’t want to talk about her relationship.

However, the evening had turned out surprisingly joyful. At the beginning, Elise had been quiet, too, and Amanda had wondered if Elise was still angry about that evening at the Australian Open and the unpleasant encounter with Mint Rickenbacher. But soon the young German had engaged in a calm and thoughtful conversation with Amanda and the Australian had finally relaxed and begun to enjoy herself. And suddenly they had been set up to play doubles together. Amanda still couldn't believe it.

Now, she was standing in the left service box and bent forward. Looking straight ahead over the net she waited for Elise’s bullet to come crashing down in their opponents’ side of the court. She had gotten used to the German’s presence next to her and behind her. And in front of her. Watching Elise’s long legs and her backside was not an unpleasant sight either. After her breakup with Felicia, Amanda counted it as a good sign that she noticed these little details again. There was also the attentive look on Elise’s face whenever Amanda said something, her shy smile when they met in the locker room, and her broad, proud smile when Amanda had fired an ace.

It soothed Amanda and she was aware of it. Over the week she had been trying to weigh the good and the bad of this situation but then had settled on going with the flow. It was just doubles, played for fun, and right now they were winning in formidable fashion, just going up a second break against the all-German team on the other side of the net.

Giving each other a handclap Elise and Amanda walked over to the bench and sat down. Amanda took her bottle and thoughtfully gulped the water. She wondered if she should ask Elise out for dinner tonight. That was perfectly normal for doubles partners. Elise wouldn’t misunderstand it. Amanda was sure, she wouldn’t. Glancing over to the German who was sipping her drink, she was still insecure about whether to ask or not when Elise turned her head to Amanda.

“Would you like to go out for dinner tonight,” Elise asked. Startled by the coincidence, Amanda laughed and nodded.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Seeing the German flashing her a big smile, she felt that her head went hot. Elise’s unashamed attention made her blush. She took another look at the smiling girl next to her. A thought crossed her mind. Could she have been wrong about Elise? Was there perhaps a chance this girl wasn’t straight? Amanda shook her head and brushed the thought away. She had no intention of engaging in a new relationship anyway. Moreover, Elise was clearly straight but didn’t seem to mind that Amanda wasn’t. She was just one of these open-minded youngsters.

“Time,” Lynn said and Amanda gave Elise a friendly nod. There was business to finish and a fine trophy was waiting only one game away.

***

“Will you please let me in on what we are doing?”

With a sigh Sasha turned around. Jaro had stopped following her. Her fiancé had showed up this afternoon for a two day PR trip as he would play a soccer match against a German club nearby at the weekend. Their managements had figured they could use the opportunity to show them together. For her semifinal Jaro would sit in Sasha’s box and cheer her on.

But right now he was a millstone around Sasha’s neck. How to explain to this soccer guy that she was on a secret mission to find out more details about the Galloways? She just had to find out! She had been following them for at least three hours strolling through the city of Stuttgart studying their behavior and writing every detail down in her book. Lulu liked chicken salad while Gaga had fish with rice. It didn’t look significant for her mission but Sasha knew that every detail could help her. If she was able to determine who was standing on the other side of the court, she would have no problem in beating either of the sisters in the future.

She readjusted her sunglasses and made sure her large hat was placed accurately before answering him.

“We are following these twins to find out who is who,” she explained impatiently patting her thigh to gesture Jaro to keep moving. Looking over her shoulder, Sasha saw Lulu and Gaga disappear behind a corner. The soccer player shook his head but nevertheless followed her again. Sasha was speeding down the street and turned around the corner when she heard Jaro’s voice again.

“Alright, alright. But that’s pure speculation and honestly, it’s simply ridiculous. Who would think about switching matches like that? Besides, aren’t there controls during tournaments. It’s not like it’s that easy to fool everyone! I’m sorry to say it but this isn’t a good theory at all.”

”Don’t even dare to question me, Jaro,” she hissed. She really began to feel sorry for herself. How could anyone believe she was in love with this guy? He was absolutely simple-minded. Instead of a brain he had a football on his head. Sasha was sure, the next time he would open his mouth she would kick his football head to the moon. Why hadn’t she agreed to take him along? She was just too nice. She shouldn’t have let him in on her secret mission either. With his football brain he would let it slip one day. Or not. He would probably have forgotten all about it tomorrow. But in future, she told herself she would keep it to herself. Yes, and she would have a huge advantage over all the other players.

“But the hat and the sunglasses?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. Jaro again. He really didn’t get anything.

“Well, I need to go incognito!”

Jogging along Jaro nodded for the hundredth time, not understanding anything.

“Except you are doing the exact opposite! You are the only one wearing a hat and big, dark, turtle-like sunglasses.”

Sasha had to admit that this was true. No one in this little German town was as well-dressed and elegant as she was. She was just about to say something to Jaro, when she realized that the twins had vanished once more. With her perfectly manicured hand, Sasha stopped Jaro in his tracks.

“They just entered this German tavern. At 5 P.M.! Isn’t that suspicious? I think it is!”

Jaro stared at her for a couple of seconds before shaking his head in obvious disbelief.

“I give up. This is going too far. What are you planning to do now? Don’t tell me you want to go in and pretend to have dinner.” Perplexed he raised his hands, then shrugged. “I’ll wait for you at the hotel, Sasha.”

He turned around and quickly walked away. Traitor, Sasha thought. Her fiancé was gone and she was standing alone in front of the Ochs’n Willi restaurant. Fine. She could do that alone. Keeping her hat and her sunglasses on, Sasha stepped into the restaurant. Luckily enough for her, the place was crowded and people didn’t pay attention to her. Now where had the twins gone? Perhaps to some backroom, to have more privacy to develop their next plan?

Carefully she peeped through the door into the large room in the back only to look straight at the two doubles finalists – Elise Renard and Amanda Auster. What the hell were those two doing there? Were other players here as well? Was this some special address the players hadn’t told her about? Sasha knew they all kept these things from her as they didn’t want her to join in. Not that she cared. She didn’t. Not at all. And why would she care about Elise hanging out with Amanda? She didn’t. Right now, it was about Lulu and Gabriella. Sasha noticed the eldest twin’s red jacket at the very far end of the room. Full of purpose, she navigated between the tables towards a free chair at the bar to pursue her espionage agenda.

***

She had to stop thinking about it. She had to fall asleep and not think about the burning sensation that still sizzled on her cheek. She needed to concentrate on something else. Waiting for sleep to relieve her, Amanda searched the room for something she could count. Anything. Sheep didn’t do it for her anymore. But she couldn’t get her mind off the feeling that pierced her face.

In the end it meant nothing. It had no meaning for the future – so she told herself. She could have touched her cheek and rubbed the burn away but she didn’t. She wanted to feel it. It reminded her of her own stupidity and apparently she needed a reminder. And wasn’t it a good step towards self improvement to admit your own shortcomings?

The moonlight was sliding along the bare furniture and sighing loudly, Amanda rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in her arms. But then quickly turned back again. She didn’t want to close her eyes. If she did so, then the whole scene in the hotel corridor would replay again and she’d only feel embarrassed. Should she have acted differently? Maybe. Life could be so terribly confusing. Or maybe she was confusing everything. The whole scheme that had been unfolding in her mind in the last days and hours had been illusory and Amanda knew it. Just one of these enticing ideas that cropped up after another disappointing relationship had ended.

It wasn’t easy to get involved in a relationship on tour. Too much travelling and only a blurry concept of home made it almost impossible to find someone for a long-term partnership. But sometimes two players found each other and it made life and love a lot easier.

It had only been a sweet idea – good enough to take her mind off Felicia and perfectly harmless. But she had felt it coming the whole week and the piercing hotness on her cheek only confirmed it – she should have never said yes to going out for dinner, she should have never said yes to playing doubles with Elise. She should have stayed far away from the girl. She moaned quietly. What had she been thinking? She should have stopped herself. Rolling onto her stomach again, Amanda ruffled her hair. There really was no use for a broken heart. Not a second time in a month.

But this German kid had captured her mind, there was no denying it. They had met by the showers and in the lockers, talked casually. They had hugged on court, touched each other and shared good moments. They had laughed a lot. Amanda relaxed thinking about the time they had spent together. Elise had made her smile. She had made Amanda crack jokes and tell stories. She had made her forget Felicia completely. Yes, she couldn’t help it and as much as she tried to focus on something else, her thoughts always ended up leading her to Elise. She was probably asleep now, lost in quiet dreams with a smile playing on her lips, lighting up her graceful features.

Biting her lower lip in frustration, Amanda frowned and cleared her voice. What on earth was wrong with her, Amanda wondered. Should she have seen it coming? The Germans swift forward movement wasn’t exactly what she had expected and Amanda wasn’t fast enough to dodge. If Amanda was lucky Elise wouldn’t bother her again with playing doubles. Perhaps after a while they could have a nice friendship. But nothing else.

She closed her eyes.

There they were in the corridor still smiling about the previous witty exchange in the elevator when Amanda told Elise about the first time she had played on clay, not being able to handle the new surface, and Elise told her about her first time playing on grass. Amanda had thought of a ballsy, suggestive comment about first times in general and for a second she considered throwing it at Elise to test her reaction, but in the end she didn’t. Amanda had been constantly aware of that lingering feeling below the surface but restrained herself from getting too engaged with the young woman. The evening had been pleasantly joyful and relaxed and Amanda had kept her cool with the young German who seemed thoroughly happy to spend the evening with the Australian. Everything had gone according to plan and Amanda couldn’t remember when she had felt so much at ease with someone.

Then they said good night and just when Amanda wanted to turn around to walk down to her room, Elise put her hands lightly on Amanda’s arms and kissed her on the left cheek.

“Thank you for a wonderful week,” Elise said.

Shocked by the sudden gesture and the emotions the touch set free, Amanda flashed Elise a last smile, nodded and turned around. Pretending that nothing had happened she walked to her bedroom door a few steps away. When she finally looked over her shoulders, Elise had left and only the gloomy corridor stared back at her.

***

30 Love. Tom would have to thank Teddy for that.

His unexpected encounter with Melanie a few weeks earlier had sparked the idea in him to set up a blog of his own. Thanks to his wonderful lover he also had a name for his blog. After he had done interviews with the finalists he had retreated to his hotel room, motivated and determined to write history. With the only exception that he had assumed it would be a lot easier. Tom had been working on his secret blog project for over an hour now but technology didn’t seem to be his best friend that day.

“Damn it!”

Nothing worked. Nothing at all. The whole blog setup seemed to get the better of him. He didn’t like the formatting, the themes and he had no idea how to change it. It was just like talking Chinese to him. He didn’t understand the slightest thing. When he cast a glance at Mel’s blog – and Lord knew he had these past few days – everything looked terribly easy. From inserting a song to adjusting a picture next to the text, it seemed like a kid of five was able to do it. Except now that he faced the challenge, it appeared to be a lot more complex.

Access denied – incorrect password.

With a loud warning bang the website shut down.

“Oh, for hell’s nipples!” The internet was mocking him. He restrained from hitting the brand new laptop, took a deep breath instead and closed his eyes. He counted until five then looked back at the screen. Nothing had changed, of course. His inability to set up his glorious blog had become an embarrassment.

Exasperated, Tom stood up and went to lean against the window of his hotel room. If he should ever succeed in setting up his blog, he had to write his first entry yet. For some reason it made him slightly anxious. The first words were the most difficult ones. Once you had them, the rest came along rather easily. But in the meantime, you had to find those few sentences that would launch the whole thing and what Tom hoped would become the juiciest blog ever written. Even though for the moment, he was pretty far from it.

He looked out over the tree-lined entrance area. The hotel they stayed at was rather cozy if not luxurious. There was nobody outside and Tom was just bracing himself to face his 30 Love venture again, when his eyes caught two figures he knew well. The Galloway twins were marching across the path to the hotel entrance. Tom had to laugh. Lulu and Gabriella definitely confirmed the cliché that it was just impossible to separate twins. These two spent literally all their time together. One could almost suspect that they were plotting world dominance. They disappeared through the entrance but Tom still looked outside into the night. He could make out another figure in the background. He squinted his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness. Someone was hiding behind a tree, watching the twins entering the lobby.

In an instinctive gesture, Tom crouched down to the floor. Only his eyes were looking over the window sill into the dark outside. Thank god he had forgotten to turn on the light when he was busy setting up 30 Love, he thought. Peeping out into the night he let out a surprised yelp when he finally saw the dark figure’s face.

It was Sasha Mrachova, sporting a hat and pair of huge sunglasses.

***

Elise rolled onto her side and opened her eyes again. She wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. A multitude of ideas were dancing around in her head, hitting against each other with such frenzy that she almost felt dizzy. She stared into the sky outside the window of her hotel room. It was a starry night, serene and still, and it almost angered Elise that the world seemed unperturbed by the confusion that was agitating her heart.

Two hours ago in the corridor outside her room she had bent over casually and with the routine of the thousand automatisms that ran her life she had touched Amanda’s cheek with her lips. Just a mere contact of her skin against someone else’s. A European automatism. It was nothing.

And yet it was everything. Everything she had at the moment – because she would have never dared to go further. And, of course, she knew there was no chance that Amanda would have paused for a moment in surprise before locking eyes with her, taking Elise’s hands and kissing her back. No chance that Amanda would have held her tight and pushed her back against the wall or pulled her away to her room at the end of the corridor where they would lie in the dark kissing and whispering for hours and hours.

She wasn’t different from the other girls. Like everyone else she waited for the one kiss in the dark, the one moment when everything spilled over, like in the romantic comedies she secretly loved watching from the depths of her bed. After the wonderful dinner she had with Amanda she had forgotten about Felicia and about her own good intentions. Elise wanted it to happen there, but her lips had lasted too long on Amanda’s skin and when they had broken apart, panic had invaded her. From Amanda’s quick exit she could tell that she had gone too far, and now it was too late to make up for the move. Or too soon? Not the right time at all?

Turning around one more time, Elise moaned in embarrassment. It definitely had been the wrong decision. Lingering very closely to Amanda’s cheek she had waited for Amanda to kiss her back. But the Australian had only backed up and nodded with an awkward smile. Without a word Amanda had turned away. Of course, she had. She was in a relationship with a famous pop singer and Elise’s advances must have caught her off-guard as they were clearly inappropriate. Elise could only hope that Amanda would misinterpret the touch as a mere good-night kiss. If not, there would forever be awkwardness between them, Elise feared.

Staring into the darkness, Elise told herself to forget the whole scene but the truth was that she wanted nothing but to experience it one more time. Just one more kiss. The thought of it made her chest heave. It felt as if she could sing out loud and at the same time it felt she couldn’t breathe. As if her thorax was expanding without limits and yet being crunched to a little ball. Amanda’s skin had been soft, but what had actually astonished her most was the warmth of her skin. There was Amanda’s life that spread underneath the surface rushing through her veins to her heart and back to her cheek. Elise closed her eyes and, lost in the reminiscence of the sensations that the kiss had stirred up, she put a hand onto her heart and listened to the beats of the precious organ.

For a while she counted the beats but its regularity disappointed her. Nothing had changed, she realized. Nothing. Just another automatism that ruled her life.

Rome, Italy

A loud honk from the street woke Amanda. The rising kerfuffle of Rome was drifting up to her hotel room window making it impossible to go back to sleep. She picked up her watch from the nightstand and checked the time. Still too early to get up. Her match was scheduled third on the Campo Centrale. But she didn’t want to go back to sleep either. Soon her cell phone would buzz anyway. Like it did every day. Like a clockwork. She smiled. It was only a matter of time before the sound would make her jump up.

Since the tour had hit the red dust she felt better. Stuttgart had been a good result for her reaching the quarterfinal even though she had done better last year having been a semifinalist in the German tournament. Her ranking had been gradually slipping during the spring and she needed a good result in the Eternal City. So far it looked good. She was doing well in the tournament. Today she would play the quarterfinal against local favorite Antonia Sapore. It would be a tough match but not impossible. Antonia would feel the pressure of the crowd like Amanda did in Australia.

She rolled over and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. It was already 7:13 A.M. Why hadn’t it buzzed yet? She put it down again looking at the stucco that ornamented the high ceilings.

For the last three weeks she had been woken by messages from Elise. First they came every third day, then every other day, and since she was in Rome her texts came every morning. Usually Elise only wrote little innocent and goofy messages like Hey, how are you? or Good morning and on match days Amanda was sure to receive a Good luck! I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Amanda usually would answer with a likewise short text. There was nothing in these words to indicate that this was more than the beginning of a nice, easygoing friendship.

However, Elise’s persistency was surprising the Australian. Amanda had to admit she had become accustomed to the reliable sound of her cell phone buzzing. Two days ago she had even considered turning off the alarm clock, which was due at 7:15 A.M., after Elise’s texts had begun to drop in punctually at 7:10 A.M.. Since Stuttgart they hadn’t spoken but it seemed that the good-night kiss after their doubles win had been only that and Amanda had racked her brain in vain.

The alarm bell went off and Amanda shut it off immediately. Elise hadn’t written a message. The Australian got up, stumbled into the bathroom and began her morning routine. After she had dressed in her joggers and a shirt she picked up her cell phone again. There was no message from Elise.

Suddenly, Amanda was worried. Of course, she told herself, there had to be a simple explanation for Elise’s silence but Amanda couldn’t help feeling troubled by the missing message. She sighed. That was exactly what she didn’t need before an important match. Perhaps Elise was stuck in a dead zone. Sure, that was it, Amanda calmed herself down, but there was only one way to find out and put her at ease again.

She dialed Elise’s number. Waiting for a second, she heard the dialing tone, so the service was available. Embarrassed by what now seemed an overreaction, Amanda was just about to hang up again when Elise answered the phone.

“Hey.” The German sounded surprised and awkward at the same time.

“Hi, Elise,” Amanda tried to sound cheerful. “How is your tournament going?”

Elise was playing a challenger to get more matches under her belt and gain some ranking points. It was going fine, she answered. She had reached the quarterfinal which was however suspended due to rain. Amanda could hear in her voice that Elise was waiting for Amanda to come forward with whatever reason there was for calling her.

“Will you try to qualify for Roland Garros?”

“Yes,” Elise answered. “Of course.”

Of course, she would. Amanda felt stupid. Suddenly, this week’s excitement over Elise’s texts seemed like a trap. These were probably mass messages directed to several people at once and not her specifically. Once again she had fooled herself and gotten herself into an awkward situation with the German girl. She could hear Elise breathing on the other side of the line. She really had to stop making a fool out of herself.

“If I qualify –,” Elise began, ”would you like to play doubles with me?”

“No,” Amanda quickly answered. She had to stay away from Elise. “No, thank you. I really have to concentrate on singles in Paris. I have to defend too many points.”

That Elise fully understood and there was nothing left to talk about. After a quick exchange of pleasantries they hung up.

***

Thank you, darling, but I’m gay as a goose.

Sitting in the most boring meeting with his racquet sponsor to discuss the shooting of the next TV spot, being pestered by the WTA No. 1 player in the world, whose name made him desire the little Italian dumplings – but only when served hot and raw by Tom Richardson himself – and who had just proposed including a kiss between them in the joint advertisement, Ted couldn’t help coming up with goofy thoughts. He imagined Carina’s face if he actually said it out loud – with a high-pitched voice and blinking his eyes wildly. Out, loud and proud. Would she fall dead on the floor? She was well-known for being very prudish. And would he get an award, if she fell dead on the floor?

He told himself to see reason and concentrated again on the conversation. With a serious face he turned to Carina.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea considering my relationship with Felicia. I’m trying to leave the rogue image behind, you see. Let’s keep the advert focused on the sport.”

His manager nodded vehemently and Carina frowned, but looked like she accepted it. No kiss with Ted Curry in their next commercial.

When the meeting was over, he tried to sneak away quickly but Carina was faster. She caught up with him and slipped her arm under his.

“I know the best Italian restaurants in Rome,” she purred. “My uncle’s family lives here, you know.”

“Really? How nice,” Ted muttered. He had to think! Quickly. How could he get rid of the Knocker? From the corner of his eye he saw the solution.

“I’m sorry, Carina, but I’ve to go visit Mrs. Murphy!”

He squirmed free of her grip and hastened to the door.

“Mrs. Murphy?” he could hear her mumble, while he slipped inside the men’s room. He almost laughed in relief.

“I’ll wait for you, Ted!” Carina shouted through the closing door. Damn! A quick check of the bathroom confirmed that it had no window. He was stuck and he could think of only one solution to his problem. He took out his cell phone and called Felicia.

“Where are you?” Ted shouted. Felicia was watching doubles. That was good. Ted had feared she had gone on a shopping spree around the city. “You need to come to the player’s area. I’m in the men’s room on the second floor. Call me before you get there.”

For the first time in a week he was glad that Felicia was here in Rome. Even though she had dutifully showed up in his box during his matches, off court she had become a nuisance. Ted would have preferred to spend his precious time with Tom, as for the first time since the tour moved to Europe the ATP and the WTA had a joint tournament. Felicia and Tom. Two parallel loves. A fake one and a secret one. It sounded like a vaudeville show and it was draining all his energy.

When his cell phone rang he went outside and just when Carina Gnocchi was about to get her hands on him again, Felicia turned around the corner with a big smile on her face and saved him. After getting rid of the Knocker they walked outside.

“Thank god, I’m an actress!” Felicia was all smiles. That was a bit of an overstatement, but Ted kept his mouth shut.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Felicia kept on babbling. Ted hesitated.

“Oh, just a short visit to one of the bars on Piazza Navona with Tom,” he said casually. He hadn’t planned to invite Felicia.

“Piazza Navona? Don’t tell me you’re going to this club, what’s the name? Frankie’s?”

Ted hated it, but she had guessed right. He shrugged in defeat.

“Frankie’s? You’re going to Frankie’s?”

No need to be that smart to get Felicia’s excitement about the hip Roman gay and lesbian club. It was obvious and now Ted found himself in a dilemma. It wouldn’t have been nice not to ask her. After all, he owed the Aussie singer for her quick rescue mission.

“Would you like to come?”

“Are you kidding? I so want to go there, Teddy! And perhaps I’ll find my very own Sophia Laurence there.”

Felicia raised a suggestive eyebrow to which Ted only replied with a weary smile.

“Loren. It’s Sophia Loren, Felicia.”

***

“Sasha, wait!”

Immediately, yet a bit surprised, Sasha Mrachova turned around. Morgana Doré was rushing over the path towards her. Sasha gave her waiting team a little nod and they left her behind.

With a little yelp Morgana stopped in front of her and gestured to Sasha to sit down on one of the benches in front of the outside court where Sasha had just finished her practice. But the Czech shook her head. First Morgana should let her know why she was in such a hurry. It seemed really important, but with the French girl you never knew. She came up with the strangest ideas sometimes. Now, Morgana just shrugged and put down her bag. She pulled the zipper open and took out a book. Sasha frowned, as she recognized the cover.

Each page seemed tagged by a million little markup stickers, but Morgana flipped through the pages and quickly found what she had been looking for.

“The tall, svelte Czech player’s glory lay in the past, but everyone had to admit it was a very glorious past that had catapulted her to the untouchable echelons of legendary players,” Morgana read out loud. “But a series of injuries had kept the talented Daria away from the court for a long time and the tennis world wondered if she would ever be able to get to the place where she once belonged.”

Sasha’s heart began to beat faster and she felt the blood withdraw from her face. Snapping shut the book Morgana was reading from, the Czech had a look around before bending over to the French.

“Are you crazy! Keep your voice down. There’s no need for people to hear these things.”

“So you read them, too?”

“Used to.” Sasha hated to admit it. ”But I don’t want to talk about that. Tennis Nurse is a bunch of crap.”

Morgana smiled politely before nodding.

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested in the cheap storyline and, of course, it has nothing like the eloquence of Proust.”

“Of course.” Sasha rolled her eyes. Here we go again, she thought. Morgana was losing herself in highfalutin talk nobody was able to understand. She was about to shut the French player up with a snotty remark, when Morgana pointed out a name on the page.

“It’s you. This Daria is you. Just like the other characters. That’s us. These books are about us.”

Sasha decided to play it cool. No need to get drawn into the French girl’s mysterious brain work.

“Yeah, I know that and so what? As I told you, I stopped reading them so I don’t mind. Who cares, anyway?”

Morgana raised an eyebrow.

“Oui. But aren’t you curious to know who writes these? Obviously the author knows a lot about us so she has to be among us. Or even better, she has to be one of us. Aren’t you curious to know who this Danielle Fairbanks is? Someone is hiding himself behind this pseudonym. I think there’s a mole among us.”

Curious? Morgana was a smart one. She knew that this word was like throwing a challenge to Sasha, a challenge she couldn’t refuse. Because yes, she was curious in the end. If there was one sure thing about the French player, it was that she was a good observer. An excellent one. Sasha mind was racing. It could come in handy regarding the Galloway mystery. Perhaps Morgana was an opportunity she could use. Passing her arm around the French’s shoulders, Sasha cleared her voice.

“Morgana, chérie, I might have something that could interest you. A deal.”

***

The jolly ménage à trois of Tom, Felicia and Ted abandoned the crowded Via di San Giovanni and entered the hottest gay club of Rome – Frankie’s. The name and its graffiti-bedaubed entrance itself suggested none of the excitement that waited inside with hot dancers – male and female – a bar that was famous for its cocktails and the club that looked like an old ballroom.

They had decided not to stay too long, as Ted still had a doubles match to play the next day, but as soon as they had crossed the threshold Tom knew this was going to be a long night out. A DJ was playing electronic tunes while a sea of people were dancing under the high ceiling of the ballroom.

“Champagne?” Ted asked his companions, leading the group to the bar.

“Champagne!” Felicia replied with a huge grin. Did she ever had thoughts of her own, Tom wondered. He sighed. Even though he had been irritated by the constant presence of Felicia, he only had to take one look at the crowd to understand that Felicia would probably abandon the two guys sooner rather than later when her eyes fell on some Italian girl. The female species of Rome was compelling, he had to admit. Nevertheless, he had no intention spending more time than necessary with Felicia.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, giving Ted a light kiss on the cheek. “I need to make room for the bubbly first.”

Tom backed away from the full bar and went to the bathroom, which was as ritzy as the rest of the club.

When he was leaving the urinal Tom stepped to one of the stainless steel sinks to wash his hands when his eyes fell on a tall, strong guy. Glancing over Tom had the feeling he had seen him before somewhere, though he couldn’t remember where. Smiling politely, Tom held his hands under the warm water but winced as the soap went directly into a little paper cut, an unfortunate 30 Love mishap from when he had been writing his list of evidence in his hotel room in the afternoon.

“Damn it.”

The young guy smiled and quickly took a roll of band aid out of the pocket of his jeans and gave it to him.

“A very good friend of mine has a lot of blisters. She keeps them in stock.”

Tom thanked him, but when he looked the stranger in the eye he couldn’t help but gasp. Now he knew where he had seen this guy before. It was Jaro Bradka, a defense player for Manchester City, Tom’s home club, and Sasha Mrachova’s boyfriend. Or should he say alleged boyfriend given the circumstances? What would a straight guy be doing at Frankie’s, lending him band aid, for heaven’s sake? Giving Jaro his best smile, he tore off a strip and put it on the cut.

“Thank you,” he said, giving the roll back. Jaro winked and left the bathroom. Tom was flabbergasted. Was Sasha here at the club? He tried to remember all the patron’s faces he had seen so far. Could he have missed her?

This was bigger than some doubles players’ affair. Even though Antonia and Martina were good singles players, too. They were both consistently ranked in the Top 50 for the last couple of years, and Antonia even went as high as Top 30. But no one was interested in Antonia and Martina when they could have Sasha Mrachova.

Suddenly he felt anger growing in him. Why was it that all the great players remained in their cozy little closets? Money, of course, he thought grimly. Sasha was a Top 10 player, a former No. 1 and a Grand Slam winner. She had made millions on the court and just as much off the court as a model. Even though he understood her desire to keep her private life private and remain low profile he detested the fact that she lied to people pretending to be with Jaro. He felt no pity for her. She had nothing to lose, it seemed, being a millionairess. And yet, she could be a role model for young people and could challenge the ugly stereotypes that still persisted in people’s minds and also in the tennis world. What would it matter if he wrote a story about Martina and Antonia?

Sasha was his story.

***

“I think you should play next round for me.”

Here we go again, Gabriella thought. New city, same old story. In the end, she had to play the difficult opponents.

“And then, if everything goes fine, it’ll be Amanda. The oldie will be for me,” Luella grinned.

“Don’t underestimate her. She is a clay expert.”

“Sure, she’s achieved a lot on clay, but her game was completely off in the last couple of weeks. At the moment she’s as good at tennis as grandma Yekaterina was at bowling.”

Gaga frowned. She didn’t like her sister’s arrogance, especially as there was nothing in Luella’s performance of late to justify her snootiness.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you. Have you watched Amanda at all? She played a really good match.”

Lulu snorted and waved it off.

“She was just lucky with her draw. She had a cakewalk to the quarterfinal. But you’ll see what happens when she finally gets to face real players like you and me.” Luella continued studying the draw. “So, after Amanda it will be Sasha. She had a surprisingly good run here, but we all know she hates the dirt. Did you see her fall on her butt during her match against Ivana? She can’t even walk on clay.” Luella snickered.

Of course, Gabriella had watched the incident. Sasha had gone for a ball but slipped on the red surface and had fallen on her backside. For a few seconds she had laid there on the clay before getting up again and wiping the red dirt off her skirt. Seeing her on the ground had given Gaga a mighty fright. More than any opponent, a tennis player feared injury and you wouldn’t wish it on your fiercest rival. Luella’s disrespectful comment made her angry. Especially as it was directed towards Sasha again. It wasn’t fair at all.

“I’ll be happy to play against Sasha, if we get there,” Gabriella said. “But she has improved tremendously in the last weeks. It will not be easy.”

“Well, if you don’t feel fit to beat her, I will do it,” Luella snapped.

Gaga raised an eyebrow. The Czech had been in top form since the beginning of the tournament and as much as clay wasn’t her favorite surface, it was obvious that she would be tough to beat. How could her sister be so self-confident?

“You know, Jaro is here. So I’m sure Sasha wants to make the most of it if only to show off in front of her boyfriend.”

Lulu burst out laughing. Apparently, something had escaped Gabriella because she didn’t understand her sister’s sudden reaction.

“Yeah, allow me to have some doubts about it, Gaga. Don’t be so naïve. I’m pretty sure Sasha is as close to Jaro as I am to Enrique Martinez, if you know what I mean?”

Yes, Gabriella knew what Lulu meant. Ever since her twin had mentioned the mysterious encounter with Sasha in the locker room Gaga had been intrigued by the idea that Sasha liked girls. Lulu had claimed that Sasha had hit on her. That she did it every time. Should she ask Lulu for details? It hadn’t seemed like a good idea last time they spoke about it, as they had been fighting. Even now it didn’t look like a good time to inquire about the incident, as Luella was getting furious only thinking about it.

“Haven’t you noticed that she’s hanging around us?” Lulu almost spit the words out. “She’s checking me out on every occasion. Total dyke.”

Her sister’s snide remark felt like a sting but Gabriella had to admit that Luella was right. It always looked like Sasha was sneaking around. Wherever the twins seemed to go, the Czech was not far. She herself had witnessed Sasha several times following them. And given Luella’s appeal on boys it could well be possible that also a girl had a crush on her.

***

Frankie’s was definitely the place to be. Within a quarter hour the club had filled up and seemed about to burst. Tom was having a hard time making his way back through the tightly packed crowd, when he spotted a free table at the end of the counter. Not bothering to squeeze through all the way to Ted and Felicia who were waiting with three glasses of Champagne, he yelled and waved to them and gestured them to come to the free table. Ted waved back at him with a smile, nodded and grabbed the glasses. Just as Ted made a step away from the bar, he bumped into a tall Italian girl, who had made it to the bar. Within seconds she was drenched in Champagne.

“Dannazione, ma fare un po ‘di attenzione!”

Tom heard the voice and recognized the girl. It was no other than Antonia Sapore. The Italian player wasn’t alone. Of course, Martina Rodriguez was there, too. And behind the couple, Tom saw Japanese player Natsumi Takashima with Amanda Auster. Holy crap, Tom thought. Amanda. It only took him a few seconds to realize the delicacy of the situation.

Waiting at the table Tom overlooked the scene. Amanda seemed paralyzed. She was staring at a surprised Felicia who gave her ex-girlfriend a big grin. Then Amanda made a quick step to the bar turning away from Felicia, while Antonia, Martina and Natsumi followed her just as startled. For all it was clear that Amanda didn’t want a word with her late girlfriend. All but one. With her hands on her hips Felicia approached Amanda, a broad smile on her lips. Tom held his breath.

“How are you doing, honey? I haven’t heard from you for a while. How is life treating you? I heard that you won a doubles title lately. Ted told me about it. I still follow your matches, you know.”

Looking at Ted, who seemed just as embarrassed, Tom shook his head. This was terrible and there seemed to be no stopping Felicia.

“Perhaps we could have a drink one of these days,” the singer continued. “You know, to catch up on everything. I’m sure you have plenty to tell me!”

The whole group watched the scene in awkward silence while waiting for Amanda to reply. For a few seconds, the Australian remained still then blinked, turned on her heels and rushed out of the club in a hurry.

***

The sun was shining brightly over the Roman sky and the Campo Centrale was packed for the semifinal between Amanda Auster and Luella Galloway.

Amanda had won her quarterfinal match against the Italian favorite Antonia Sapore a day earlier. Even though the Australian had been shaky and nervous in the beginning it was the Italian who crumbled in the end of a tough three-set match. Luella Galloway on the other hand had had a easy run so far. Being drawn against lower-ranked players throughout the tournament her semifinal appearance was no surprise. She had won all her previous matches in straight sets.

Natsumi Takashima took her seat in the upper stands of the arena next to Antonia and Martina, who went incognito with big stylish hats and Italian sunglasses. Regardless of Amanda’s and Antonia’s quarterfinal clash the day before, the Italian-Argentine couple had spent some time with Amanda and Natsumi over the course of the week, showing the two players the city and eventually taking them out to Frankie’s.

“How is Amanda?” Antonia turned around to Amanda.

“Better, I hope.” Natsumi sighed, looking down onto the court and to the players’ entrance, where Amanda and Luella would step through any second. She and Amanda had been friends for almost a decade now, but the Australian refused to talk about the incident when Natsumi had met her this morning. “It was a shock to see Felicia at the club.”

The others nodded. It was never easy to embark on a relationship with someone outside the tour. They all knew that. But not even couples who both played on the tour had an easy draw. Amanda and she had once started as a doubles team which soon turned into a short-lived relationship. The pressure to keep it all under cover had been too much for the young couple. Fortunately, after the relationship ended they had been able to gradually built a great friendship which had been refined by recreational intermezzi once in a while. But the last time she had slept with Amanda had been ages ago. Not that she wanted to anymore.

“Oh, Felicia Del Castro,” Martina said, disrupting Natsumi’s thoughts. “She clearly has some Latino genes.”

Felicia might have been Australian like Amanda, but her name indicated that her parents had immigrated to the continent down under.

“The brazenness clearly hints to bitch genes,” Natsumi corrected the Argentine. They chuckled for a moment but then joined in the crowd’s applause as the players finally took the court. From what Natsumi could see, Amanda looked calm. Down on the court the Australian was wearing dark shades as usual and her body language suggest nothing more than a player ready to hit the first shot.

Amanda had been quite cheerful the whole week, and when Natsumi had inquired about her good mood, she had even let the Japanese in on the funny fact that she was woken by Elise’s text messages almost every morning. Natsumi had teased her friend about Amanda apparently having had a little admirer and that she should have taken advantage of it in Stuttgart when she had the chance to make Elise drunk and seduce her. Amanda had brushed the thought away but her big grin had told Natsumi that she actually cherished the idea. Elise was a cutie, that was for sure. Natsumi wouldn’t have kicked the German out of bed for eating crackers. The Japanese had hoped that a new object of desire would help Amanda to overcome her lovesickness but since yesterday morning the grumpiness was back and meeting Felicia at the club in the evening surely didn’t help. Given Amanda’s reaction in the club, the Japanese player concluded that she wasn’t over Felicia at all. Natsumi only hoped that Amanda was able to forget her misfortune for the length of the match.

“Time,” the chair umpire announced. The match was about to begin.

***

Sasha had been watching the match between Luella and Amanda. From high in the stands she had followed every point. For once Luella had played for herself, Sasha was sure of it, and she had won. Or rather, Amanda had lost. For the whole match she seemed to be on a mission to break her own record in shanking balls. She even hit one of the linesmen in the second set. Sasha snorted while skittering through the mass of spectators but still keeping an eye on the players’ box where Gabriella Galloway had been sitting for the match. Sasha would face one of the Galloway in the final tomorrow. Which one, she didn’t know yet. That’s why she had to be quick now. Swiftly, she followed Gabriella when the Galloway twin left the stands and headed to the locker room to meet her sister. Hiding behind a corner outside of the locker room Sasha waited for the defeated Amanda Auster to leave the room, then silently opened the door and entered.

She had by now become a master in the art of tip-toe walking. From restaurants to hotels and stores, Sasha had been following them and even though this occupation was becoming seriously exhausting the Czech player couldn’t stop. Every day had its very own surprise concerning the American girls and since they were twins, the surprise came in two. Following them and wearing her spy outfit filled her life with an excitement Sasha had grown addicted to. And she wasn’t a bad spy at all. She had already found out a lot about the twins but now she had the chance to be absolutely certain who she will play tomorrow.

In the locker room one voice came from the very far right and soon enough, the other girl’s laughter echoed through the rows of lockers from the same direction. With the grace of a gazelle, Sasha got a few steps closer. To her surprise they didn’t talk about the just won match but instead threw themselves one more time in a debate over their good-looking fitness trainer.

“But I tell you he is not useless. He is just a little bit slow,” one of the Galloways said. Was that Gabriella? Sasha wasn’t sure. Their voices were so hard to tell apart. The Czech rolled her eyes but restrained a sigh. She couldn’t afford to attract their attention now, as she had nothing to do in the locker room, since her afternoon practice was long over. All of a sudden, one of the twin’s voices got louder and Sasha saw the player’s shadow on the floor coming closer. One of the Galloways was approaching.

Her mouth wide open, Sasha swayed her arms in panic, ready to rush one way or another, and looked around for a place to hide. Without thinking twice, she noticed an open locker and thankfully large enough for her to fit in. She slid in and closed the door behind her only a few seconds before hearing one of the twins walking past the locker, with only the thin wooden door separating them. Something brushed her back in the darkness of the locker, and stifling a scream Sasha swallowed hard and realized that it was just a shirt. She sniffed into the dark of the locker. The shirt was used and sweaty. Oh, the things a spy had to bear! But thankfully she hadn’t accidentally chosen one of the trash lockers where inconsiderate players abandoned their candy wraps, used strings and duct tape or she would have probably made them rustle which would have certainly caught the twins’ attention.

All of a sudden, the ring tone of her cell phone invaded the way too quiet room. Damn! Why hadn’t she put it on silent mode?

“I think someone forgot her cell phone,” Sasha heard one of the twins say. “We should turn it in.”

Trying desperately to reach the inside pocket of her jacket in time, she heard one of the twins approach the locker she was sitting in. Sasha froze and held her breath. With a quick movement the locker door was opened and she came face-to-face with one of the Galloways. Was this Gabriella or was it Luella?

“Hurry up and change the ringtone, for god’s sake. This is horrible!”

Sasha was sure it was Lulu’s commanding voice piercing in the background. So this must be Gaga in front of her. They remained still for what seemed like an eternity, staring at each other silently. Then, and against all expectations, Gabriella smiled at her, in surprise at first, then in amusement and after another silent moment, kindly. She slowly shook her head while looking at the crouched Czech girl, who had finally turned off the tone of her cell phone.

“It’s not ringing anymore,” Gaga finally said over her shoulder addressing her sister. “I wasn’t quick enough and now I can’t find it.”

And without saying another word, Gabriella gently closed the door of the locker again. As if nothing had happened.

Paris, France

Ever since she was little Elise Renard loved the sound of smacked tennis balls when they made contact with the racquet. And ever since she was given her first racquet she loved the fact that she could produce that sound over and over again. She didn’t mind hitting and practicing the same shot for hours at a time even though, she had to admit, it was a little bit autistic. But moreover, it was relaxing, as the required concentration took her mind off everything else.

But not today. Even though the clay courts at Roland Garros were perfectly prepared for the second Grand Slam of the year, she wasn’t. Her timing was off, and her movement sluggish. Concentrating on a little yellow ball suddenly seemed almost impossible. She also knew why. The whole situation with Amanda had become utterly confusing because her feelings for Amanda had become confusing. Only one week ago she had been crystal clear about her emotions for the Australian. There was no denying that she was head over heels in love with the redhead. It hadn’t even mattered that Amanda seemed unavailable as she was in a relationship with Aussie singer Felicia Del Castro. The successful week in Stuttgart and the time they had spent together had sparked her adoration even more.

But now? At the challenger tournament she had played the week before she had overheard British girls Gemma and Robyn chat about the long-time affair Amanda was having with Natsumi and that they were back together again. The relationship with Felicia apparently had ended a while ago due to Amanda cheating on Felicia.

Elise had to admit that the new facts hadn’t really changed the situation at all for her. Amanda was still unavailable to her, but it had changed the image she had of the Australian player. Amanda always seemed so wholehearted and earnest. It didn’t suit the perception Elise had of her to have multiple affairs one after another. Elise had to admit that she was disappointed and appalled. After hearing the troubling new revelations, Elise refrained from texting Amanda in the morning. But just when she had decided that it was a good move to keep her distance from the Australian it was Amanda who had called her. This was even more confusing, as Amanda never revealed the reason for calling. Elise had been taken so by surprise that she had forgotten her good intentions and had promptly asked Amanda to play doubles again. It had been a mistake and Amanda’s immediate rejection had cut like a knife.

Lost in thoughts, Elise smacked the ball into the net unable to string together more than four or five shots. It was terribly frustrating. She really needed to get the Australian out of her mind, out of her system. Her thoughts wandered to the chairs at the sideline, to her racquet bag lying on the ground, to the small plastic bag that was buried within it, to the little souvenir wrapped in paper. It was a braided blue bracelet she had bought in a small shop last week before she had learned about Amanda’s affair with Natsumi. She had taken a while looking through the bracelets and in the end had chosen carefully. Blue suited Amanda, Elise had thought when buying the accessory. Standing in the small shop and thinking about Amanda’s smile when Elise would have handed her the little gift had made her heart jump. But now, her stupidity made Elise angry. Why would she like someone like that so much? But then again, who was she to judge someone else’s two-facedness? She herself was lying to everyone every day. Yes, it was terribly confusing. Her own feelings had deceived her. And no, she would never give Amanda the blue bracelet. Amanda probably received little presents every day from each of her girlfriends! No need to have another admirer.

With clenched teeth Elise hit the ball as hard as she could. It was going in. She hit it again. The stroke was perfect, the angle breath-taking. She hit another heavy top-spin shot. After it bounced on the court it sped forward unreachable for her hitting partner at the other side of the court.

She let out a quiet “Come on!” to herself. That was the way to get Amanda out of her head.

***

Looking through the window of her hotel room, Gabriella bit her lower lip as she saw Sasha leaving the hotel in what seemed to be her new favorite outfit – a large straw hat and a pair of sunglasses. Ever since she had discovered Sasha hiding in the locker in Rome, Gaga hadn’t stopped wondering about the Czech player and why she was constantly sneaking around. The encounter had confused Gabriella so much, that she had lost the Rome final against Sasha. And since the draw had come out for this year’s French Open it was clear they had to take on Sasha again, this time in the second round. But the tennis wasn’t really what drove Gabriella nuts. Could the Czech really have a crush on Lulu? Luella was always the one who received all the attention – and now it seemed not only from the guys but from the gay girls as well. It wasn’t fair. How did she do it? They were identical twins! But last night, thanks to the thin hotel walls, Gabriella had a front row seat again for her sister’s not so private training session with Rafael. Things had to change. They had to change now. The Galloways had to talk.

Storming out of her hotel room, Gaga went to knock on the next door. Luella opened the door and smiled brightly at her sister. She looked nonetheless surprised to see her.

“May I help you, honey?” Usually, Lulu opened the door wide but not now.

“Can I come in?” Since when did she have to ask? A bit taken aback, Gaga made her way inside her sister’s room only to come face to face with Rafael. Of course, he was here. She should have known. A single, frosty look at the Latino and he left the room without saying a word.

“I was thinking about something, Lu.” Crossing her arms against her chest, Gaga made a step forward and smiled at her sister.

“What’s so urgent?” Luella asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Listen,” Gabriella said as casually as possible. “I have been thinking over and over about the upcoming match against Sasha and I think that I should play it.”

Luella frowned. They had agreed that this time Luella had to play for herself in the match against Sasha as Gaga already had to play two singles matches in two days and possibly another doubles match together with Luella if they reached the next round. It had been a gutsy decision as Sasha’s game didn’t suit Lulu but on the French clay the Czech lacked the brilliance she usually displayed, so the twins had figured that Lulu had a chance against the mighty player.

“You want to play three matches in two days? We might end up playing doubles, too, you know?” Luella looked at Gaga with a questioning look on her face, but Gabriella knew that her sister was intrigued. She certainly wasn’t keen on playing against Sasha.             

“Well, think about it, Lu,” Gabriella purred. “I feel good right now and after all, I am the one who played against her last time. Even though I didn’t win the match in Rome, I did win against her before and now I know much better how to play her on clay. It will be easier for me. Besides, it will give you some more time to pop Raffaellos into your mouth.”

Gabriella held her breath. She couldn’t believe that she just said that. For a few seconds she observed Luella who had raised both eyebrows. Would Lulu throw a tantrum? That was the last thing Gaga wanted. But then Lulu threw herself onto the bed cracking up in laughter.

“Sis, you surprise me! Love that filthy new mouth of yours,” she blurted out. “But you’re right. I just love these little balls.”

“Let’s not go into details, alright?” Gaga grinned back at her twin sister who was still rolling on the bed. “So, do you trust me with Sasha? I did win Indian Wells against her, you remember?”

Luella bit her lower lip. Sure, she remembered Indian Wells. Shaking her head, she finally abdicated.

“Okay,” she growled. “But you better not mess up. It’s Roland Garros.”

***

“Can I ask you girls something?” Dan Metic emerged from the kitchen. He was carrying a pan with fried potatoes and lamb chops putting it down in front of Amanda and Natsumi. The two players nodded absentmindedly while staring at the delicious meal.

“What about Elise?” Dan asked. Amanda looked up. The three had met Elise and her dad in the players’ café this morning and Dan and Elise’s dad had stopped to chat while Natsumi had tried to engage Amanda and Elise in a conversation – to no avail. Amanda had blushed and even though she had tried hard to find any reasonable words for a harmless chat, she had turned deaf and dumb, while Elise on the other side seemed unable to make up her mind whether she wanted to talk to a voiceless Amanda or run away as quickly as possible. The whole scene had been incredibly awkward.

“What about her?” Amanda didn’t like the amused look on Dan’s face. What was he up to? He began serving the two girls his home-baked dinner.

“Well, is she gay?”

“See, I told you. I told you,” Natsumi yelled, addressing Amanda. The Japanese turned around to Dan. “I say yes! One hundred percent sure.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Amanda mumbled. Dan shrugged while piling up two lamb chops on Amanda’s plate. “Well, if you don’t know it, I surely have no clue. It’s just the way she looks at you and hangs on every word you say.”

“But I didn’t say anything –,” Amanda started but was interrupted by Natsumi.

“Exactly. That’s what I’ve been telling Amanda since Stuttgart,” Natsumi complacently stated. She pierced her fork into a potato. “Did Amanda tell you that Elise was waking her with little morning messages? Too cute.”

“Oh, please. Elise was just eager to learn some doubles skills,” Amanda said, however not very convincingly. “Besides, she stopped doing that. The messaging, I mean.”

“Plus, in my opinion, this was a classic setup by Monica,” Natsumi continued, not even listening to Amanda’s argument.

“Your assumptions are just ridiculous.” Amanda was almost shouting across the table.

“The way you’re handling this is ridiculous.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? The way I’m handling this? What is there to handle?”

“Well, I definitely would give it a try,” Natsumi chuckled.

“Yeah? Then why don’t you?”

An awkward silence followed Amanda’s outburst. Amanda took her time to slice the lamb and taste it. It was delicious but she couldn’t enjoy it. She suddenly felt terribly lost. These were her friends and they only wanted to cheer her up and put her mind at ease as they knew how much pressure there was on Amanda this fortnight. She had to defend a lot of ranking points having reached the final last year. And after her mixed results over the last months the predictions were not particularly good. But she was an excellent clay court player and the expectations were still very high for her to have a good run here at this year’s French Open.

Amanda swallowed the piece of lamb.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Natsumi. “The last months weren’t exactly packed with golden moments to remember.”

“I know, darling,” Natsumi nodded. Nobody had to mention the name to understand that Amanda was not only talking about her performance on the court but also about the disaster with Felicia. Amanda shrugged. She had been so happy to have someone who was able to travel with her, at least at times and who seemed to understand the strenuous life of a tennis player. But she had been wrong about Felicia. She had been carried away by the happiness, creating illusions about their future, while Felicia herself had never talked about any plans for a shared life. Natsumi gave her a little pat on the shoulder.

“I didn’t want to push you,” she said to Amanda. “I just had the feeling that you and Elise are really getting along. It seems she is able to take your mind off all the other stuff.”

Elise. Simply the mention of the young German’s name brought up all the awkward situations Amanda had encountered with the blonde girl, along with her own hopes and heart flutter which had showed up for a brief moment in the hotel corridor in Stuttgart until she had shoved it away again.

“Yes, she does and I don’t like it,” Amanda quietly said. “I don’t like the way she occupies my mind. I don’t want another misadventure of that sort.”

“So, you do like her then?” Dan gave his player a knowing smile.

“She’s nice.”

“And she is totally into you,” Natsumi added.

“She’s a bit hyper sometimes.”

“She’s absolutely adorable,” Natsumi said matter-of-factly. “And she’s absolutely adorably into you.”

Here we go again, Amanda thought with a sigh. But then she had to laugh at Natsumi’s blatant attempt at persuasion. “You really keep going at it, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Dan chuckled. Even he took Natsumi’s side. “Give it a go!”

Amanda couldn’t believe it.

“Is that coaching advice?”

“If you like.” He seemed serious.

Shaking her head, Amanda at last smiled at her two friends.

“Can you also come up with an executable game plan?”

***

“Lapurée didn’t have any table left?”

Barely hiding her disappointment, Sasha looked over to the other side of Les Champs Elysées. The green tea room was just there, only a few feet from her on the famous avenue, but she was stuck in some awful French fast food chain instead. Morgana had decided so.

“This is a better place to meet for our mission and it has bigger croissants!”

The French pastry at this restaurant looked extremely greasy, too, Sasha found when the French player sat down on the little bench with the croissant in front of her. But instead of answering she simply smiled politely before raising an eyebrow questioningly. The less time she spent there, the better.

“So what did you find out?”

Biting into her croissants, Morgana looked up.

“I think Luella is banging her trainer.”

“What? Luella?” Sasha must have misunderstood Morgana. After all, she had a thick accent, at times. Bending over to overcome the brouhaha in the background, the blonde waited for the French woman to repeat.

“I said that one of them was having an affair with that Latino guy, Rafael. I think it’s Luella.”

Sasha was confused. So Luella liked guys, Sasha thought. Then Gabriella was the one reading Tennis Nurse? Or perhaps Luella was bi. Or there had to be something wrong in Sasha’s line of thoughts. Only a few weeks ago she had been certain that Luella was the one reading Tennis Nurse. Now Sasha wasn’t sure why she had come to this conclusion. She wished she could take out her notes and look them over again but she didn’t want to let Morgana in on her fact-finding.

“Are you sure?” she asked as casually as possible. “I heard that one of the sisters might like the fair sex, if you know what I mean.”

“Mais qui, I know the expression,” Morgana said munching her croissant. “And you are right. One of them always comes to me and borrows the Tennis Nurse novels.”

“Who?” Sasha leaned forward. She couldn’t believe she was so close to solving at least one of the mysteries surrounding the Galloway twins. What a grand idea to involve Morgana! It was true, the French player had a huge collection of the novel series and probably a lot of the gay girls came to her as she was known to be discreet and, moreover, not interested in other peoples’ love lives at all but only studied the books for intellectual reasons.

“I don’t know,” Morgana, however, said with a shrug. “They look so very much alike. And I never asked, who of them it was. Besides that, most of the girls who come to me like to keep it a secret anyway.”

Sasha slumped back in her seat. What a disappointment! She knew as much as before. It was unbelievable. How could Morgana be so incurious about other players’ lives. Before she could inquire further Morgana finished her croissant and looked up.

“Now, tell me more info about Tennis Nurse, d’accord?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. Damn that bloody pact. Tennis Nurse was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But she had no choice.

“I haven’t found out that much yet. I would need to get closer to Monica. Obviously, she’s the one who knows what it’s all about,” she slowly said.               “I don’t know who is behind this but as you said, it is probably one of us.”

“Must be someone older. The first novel was published in 1997,” Morgana said. “The analogies are easy to make but no one seems to care. It’s not like you can get the episodes in a book store, right?”

“No,” Sasha said. Suddenly she had to laugh. “I still remember that I had to send a mail order to that place in England to get the books. And you had to figure out where you’d be two weeks later so the books reached you at the right tournament. Today the girls just order the books over the internet. It’s almost boring.” She grinned thinking back only a few years to the clandestine operation of ordering a Tennis Nurse novel. Then Sasha looked up. With a loud bang Morgana had put down her fork.

“But that’s brilliant, Sasha. You are absolutely right. There must be a source for the novels,” the French player said opening her eyes wide. “Do you still have the address?” Surprised by the sudden eruption, Sasha shook her head.

“You must find it!” Morgana continued. “This is just brilliant. If we can locate the distributor, then we will find the author!”

***

There was one thing Tom would have never imagined witnessing when taking a quick snack at Le Fournil and that was what looked from afar like a chatty, happy lunch encounter between Sasha Mrachova and Morgana Doré. Since when were these two friends, spending time together off court? And since when did Sasha hang out at a fast food chain even if it was French fast food? The high-maintenance Czech looked completely out of place, but on second thought that was far from being surprising considering the last few weeks.

Something was going on with Sasha and ever since he had seen her following the Galloway twins back in Stuttgart, Tom had had come to the conclusion that she was up to something and he had begun to follow Sasha in order to find out what was going on. He also needed to find out what Sasha’s relationship with Jaro was all about. Since Rome Tom was convinced that these two were covering up for each other, and he had set his sights on revealing Sasha’s secret.

So far it had been easy. This morning Sasha had left her hotel and after talking on the phone had gone straight to Les Champs Elysées. Tom figured that the Czech would spend some money on fine clothes or jewelry but he had been wrong. All of a sudden, Morgana Doré had entered the scene and they had led him here.

Biting into a chausson aux pommes he had bought in order to pass for a regular customer, Tom tried to hide behind his laptop screen. He was too far away to understand the girls’ conversation so he concluded he could at least work on his blog 30 Love which he had finally managed to set up. So many ideas were going through his head that he didn’t know where to start. After long consideration, he had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t use photos. He didn’t want to ruin the players’ lives. He also needed to make sure to protect each one of the players, so he had decided to keep the players’ identities a secret.

Tom took a sip of his peach-flavored tea and bent over the coffee table concentrating even more on his laptop screen. Of life and love on the tennis tour. Juicy details, mind-blowing scoops and yet an addicting anonymity that would push readers to wonder even more about whom he was talking. Tom nodded to himself and bit his lower lip in delight. It was time to launch 30 Love. His blog would make history faster than Teddy’s awesome serve went over the net. There was so much information to post he didn’t even know where to start.

“Sasha and Morgana,” he mumbled looking up at the Czech who was still conversing with Morgana. “What are they up to?”

Perhaps he should invest in a wiretap and put it in Sasha’s racquet bag. That could make for interesting insights into what was going on in the girls’ locker rooms. Tom grinned to himself. But for the moment, 30 Love was waiting for him just as a thousand readers were, eager to get themselves a fix of the latest tennis gossip.

***

Of course, her father had said yes. Elise would have said yes, too, in different circumstances. But this almost seemed like a conspiracy. There was absolutely no getting away from Amanda. Elise sighed. She had almost fallen off her chair in the breakfast room when her dad came in to bring the happy news.

“You will hit with Amanda,” he had announced. “I met Dan at the reception desk two minutes ago. Amanda was also looking for a hitting partner for the afternoon practice, so that was a really lucky coincidence.”

It was in fact great to practice with such a good player, Elise had to admit. However, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to even hit the ball into court once. The thought of spending time with Amanda made her feel nauseous.

But once they had started hitting the balls she felt secure. What could happen anyway with her dad and Dan Metic with them? No lips on cheeks this time. Instead she concentrated on the balls Amanda sent over and the impact they made on her racquet. Every player hit the ball differently and Amanda’s shots came with a heavy top-spin and full pace and Elise sent them back just as hard, over and over again. Once in a while Elise’s dad would have a quick word with her or Dan would talk to Amanda. But she herself didn’t need to talk to Amanda. They were just hitting balls, silently.

The monotonous repetition of shots relaxed Elise. It was good practice hitting with Amanda after all and it wasn’t Amanda’s fault that Elise liked her. She looked over the net at the Australian player. Elise adored her every move. Her flick of the wrist when hitting the forehand, the quick steps to get around her backhand, the service motion. Who was she to judge Amanda’s private life? What did she know about relationships anyway? Nothing. Nothing.

“I’ll get us a driver,” her father said after the practice. “I’ll wait for you at the Muskateers exit.”

Elise nodded packing her racquets and the towel into her bag, while her father left the court and headed to Court Philippe Chatrier where the players’ services were located. From the corner of her eye she saw Amanda sitting down on the chair on her side of the net. It would have been extremely impolite not to have a little chat. At least Elise had to walk back to the locker rooms with Amanda. She pulled the zipper of her bag shut and got up when suddenly Dan Metic was standing right beside her.

“Elise,” he smiled. “I was wondering if you would like to come over tomorrow and spend dinner with us. We’ll spoil you with an Australian delicacy, meaning lamb rack. Right, Amanda?” He turned around to his player. Amanda, however, just stood there tongue-tied with an uncomfortable grin, nodding. Elise couldn’t miss her uneasiness.

“That’s very nice of you, but I’m sure you have better things to do,” Elise answered, watching Amanda who had begun shuffling her feet. Dan was looking at Elise, then at Amanda. He turned to Elise again.

“No, I don’t think we have anything better to do. Do we, Amanda?”

This was strange, Elise thought. Why would Dan want her to come over for dinner when Amanda clearly didn’t? But Amanda had shouldered her tennis bag and made a step forward.

“Please come,” she said with a smile. “Dan really is a great cook. You’ll love it.”

“Great,” Dan said before Elise could say no again. “Now that this is settled we can call it a day.”               He said good-bye and left the two girls on the court. In silence, they headed for the locker room, each choosing a private corner where they got changed. Under the shower Elise held her breath. This really was a conspiracy. Why hadn’t she said no? Well, she knew why. There was nothing in the world she wanted as badly as spending an evening with Amanda Auster. Even if it meant Dan would be there, too, she realized. Hopefully, no one else. What would she do if Natsumi was going to be there? Elise heard Amanda step outside the shower and brushed the thought of Natsumi away. She quickly left the shower and got dressed. Amanda was already heading for the door.

“Amanda, wait,” Elise shouted after her.

She grabbed the little plastic pouch from her racquet bag and approached the Australian.

“I got you something from Prague,” she mumbled, presenting the blue bracelet. Amanda smiled in surprise. She took the bracelet, inspecting it carefully. Her silence made Elise nervous. “I thought the color would suit you. Blue. Just like your eyes,” she stammered.

“It’s really beautiful, Elise. Thank you,” Amanda finally said. She reached out her right arm. “Can you put it on?”

Elise felt her heart skip a beat. Amanda liked it. She really did. Delighted, Elise tied a little knot on the braided band.

“Hopefully, it will bring you luck tomorrow against Ivana.”

***

Today she would be Luella Galloway. Today she would be sexy, confident and charming and today she would also be loud-mouthed, shameless and a bit obscene. There were harder tasks, for sure, Gabriella tried to convince herself, when she was sitting in the tournament cab that took her to the Roland Garros site.

She had played the part so often by now that she had gotten used to it. However, it still didn’t feel natural to behave like her sister did. She wondered if Lulu was able to keep quiet and polite like Gabriella or if it was just as hard for Luella to pretend to be her twin as it was for Gaga? Luella had to make it work, too, when she interacted with other players if their masquerade wasn’t to be exposed. Gabriella assumed that her sister would just say nothing when she was in the locker room with someone else and pretending to be Gaga. That wouldn’t look too absurd from the other players’ point of view. Gabriella was known to be a shy one.

The car arrived and the driver wished her good luck in the match against Sasha Mrachova. Gabriella nodded absentmindedly. She thought of the task that lay ahead of her. She could do it, she told herself. She could actually do it. Luella did it all the time and Gaga had watched her often enough. But when she got out of the car, the massive building of Court Philippe Chatrier towered over her and she suddenly felt insecure.

For the next three hours she waited for her match in the players’ restaurant, trying to focus.

”It can’t be that hard,” she mumbled to herself.

When the men’s match scheduled before her went into the final set, she got up and shouldered her racquet bag. Today she would be Luella Galloway. Sexy, confident, charming and a bit obscene. Maybe a bit. Gabriella breathed in deeply. She walked through the corridor towards the locker room, nodding to people who crossed her path. No smile, she reminded herself. Confidence, badass attitude and charm. That’s right. Repeating it like a mantra she pushed open the locker room door. Confidence, badass attitude and – Sasha.

Gaga stopped dead in her tracks and swallowed down the panic that crept up her throat when she laid eyes on the Czech player. That girl had a perfect lean body and she just struggled pulling her shirt over her head. Blinded by the battle with her shirt, Sasha couldn’t see who had come in. Gaga felt paralyzed but she knew it was now or never. This was her chance. Confidence. She approached Sasha. Badass attitude. She leaned against the locker next to Sasha. Charm. Here we go.

“You need help,” Gabriella purred.

Sasha winced in surprise, finally pulling the shirt over her head. She gasped to find the Galloway standing so close to her.

“Luella,” she said coolly. “Thank you very much, but your help is not needed.”

“It certainly looked like it. I was just about to give you a hand,” Gabriella said stretching the last word. She winked at Sasha and smiled. Was that enough fervor? Was that enough charm? Gaga had no idea, but it must have been enough badass attitude as it left Sasha open-mouthed and speechless for a moment. Gabriella knew she had to continue if she was ever to find out what was going on with Sasha. Unashamedly and slowly she looked the Czech player over from head to toe. Sasha frowned and began to quickly change into her match outfit.

“Isn’t it just unfair that we cannot spend more time together. These stupid rivalries. Maybe we can make up for it. After the match,” Gaga continued in a sing-song voice. She watched Sasha hurry even more, stuffing her belongings into a top locker. Shouldering her racquet bag, Sasha finally turned around to face Gabriella.

“Luella,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t know what you are up to. And I certainly don’t know what you are implying.”

She rushed out of the room leaving Gaga alone in the stillness. The twin sat down and like stripping off the fake identity she had taken on, she took off her clothes one by one. She really had startled Sasha. But she had got no further than before. Sasha hadn’t played along and Gabriella still didn’t know why Sasha was following the twins or if the Czech player had a secret crush on her twin sister. She didn’t know anything about Sasha, to be honest. But there was one thing she knew now.

“I can be one badass motherfucker if I want to be,” she said quietly to herself. She picked up her racquet bag and headed out to the court.

***

The only thing that mattered, Sasha told herself, was the fact that she had won the match. It had not been easy though. She really had to fight against Luella. Or had it been Gabriella? Her opponents playing style had reminded her of the match in Indian Wells. Back then she had figured that it had been Gaga who had beaten her. Given the first service percentage, her forehand and her movement today this had been Gabriella, too. Sasha had studied the twins long enough now to recognize little details that allowed her to tell them apart.

              At least that was what she had thought. It was impossible for the brazen, shameless girl in the locker room to have been Gabriella. Even though the twins had adapted each others’ behavior, at least for a bit, it was impossible for Gaga to have pulled such a stunt. Sasha had been so taken aback that her opponent – whomever of these two it was – had hit on her that she lost the first three games, being broken in two of them.

              However, that had only turned her confusion into anger. She wouldn’t allow these little brats to irritate her. They must have noticed that she was following them and now played a trick on her. The thought had made her so angry that she had been able to turn her fate around. She had fought back rigorously and finally won the first set in a lengthy tiebreak. Her opponent must have sensed the will Sasha had regained for she faltered in the second set and in the end it was easy. The Galloway on the other side of the net was broken when she served to stay in the match and when they approached the net to shake hands, Sasha was sure she had seen embarrassment in the twin’s eyes. The Galloway had nodded politely and had gone to her chair immediately, packed her bag and left the court without looking at Sasha again.

              Now Sasha sat in the empty locker room staring at the wall. She hadn’t changed or taken a shower yet. She had to figure this out, she said to herself moving her lips silently. It was Luella in the locker room hitting on her. Sasha was absolutely sure of it. But then it looked like it had been Gabriella on the court. The twins must have changed place in those two minutes when a surprised Sasha had been heading to the court leaving Luella in the locker room. Why would they do it like this, Sasha wondered. It would have been so much easier, if Gaga had entered the locker room and had not said a word. That’s how they usually did it. None of their opponents ever suspected this.

              They must have realized that Sasha was spying on them. That was the reason they put on this show, trying to convince her that this time Luella was playing for herself. But wasn’t that a bit risky to openly hit on Sasha? They couldn’t possibly know that she was gay. Sasha buried her head in her arms. Why did she have to mention Tennis Nurse to the Galloway twin in the bathroom? How could she have possibly been so stupid after working so hard to make the sham with Jaro believable?

              Going once again through the incidents she had witnessed with the twins, Sasha thought about the moment when she was hiding in the toilet booth. Outside at the basins one of the Galloways had talked to Elise Renard about the Tennis Nurse novels. At first she was convinced that it had been Gaga but then Sasha had reassessed her conclusion based on Gaga’s obvious ignorance of the novel series. Or had that been Luella? It would make sense that it had been Luella being impolite and loud-mouthed after a lost match. And yet, nothing made sense in this mystery. The only thing Sasha knew was that the twins switched matches, that one of them read Tennis Nurse and that Luella was having an affair with the fitness trainer, if Morgana was right. However, this didn’t disqualify her from reading the novels and hitting on other women. Perhaps Luella was a bisexual nymphomaniac. Or perhaps Gabriella was? Sasha let out a frustrated and loud groan. The more she got absorbed into the Galloway mystery the more she was unable to solve it. These twins were just killing her. She gave her racquet bag a hard kick when all of a sudden the door opened and Amanda Auster stepped in.

              Sasha got up immediately and steadied herself. She needed to hurry and get ready for her press conference. She said hello to Amanda noticing that the redhead seemed completely absentminded. The Australian was due on court next, playing her third round against Ivana Katina and she was nervously fiddling with a blue bracelet while taking off her street shoes. Sasha took her towel and quickly headed to the shower.

Paris, France

“We don’t have to meet tonight. We can meet another time,” Elise said into her phone, knowing very well that there might not be time at all, at least not here in Paris.

              It was only twenty minutes after Amanda had finished her press conference for her third round match. She had lost to Ivana Katina in three tough sets. For last year’s finalist this was a devastating and embarrassing result. Amanda wouldn’t feel like having a nice evening with her, Elise had figured. Amanda probably would like to be alone or with her team to process the loss.

              “Yes, another time maybe,” Amanda answered meekly.

              It was the answer Elise had expected. She normally liked to have some time to herself after a bad result. However, she secretly had hoped for a different answer. She sure would have done everything possible to cheer Amanda up.

              “That’s ok. I understand that.” She tried not to sound too disappointed.

              “Thank you, Elise. I’ll call you, ok?”

              “Of course,” Elise answered. She guessed that Amanda had probably booked her hotel for a week at least. It might be possible that she would be around for another two or three days. If Elise could win her next match, she herself would have to stay for at least another two days and there was perhaps a chance that they could have dinner at the end of the week before Amanda left Paris.

              But would Amanda really call Elise? The young German doubted it. The dinner invitation seemed to have been Dan Metic’s idea anyway. Amanda’s coach probably just wanted to be polite after Amanda and Elise had played doubles together so successfully in Stuttgart. It had been a nice gesture and Elise had been happy to spend some time with Amanda. After their practice Elise had been so delighted about the invitation that she had given Amanda the little bracelet in the locker room wishing her luck for the third round and Amanda had in fact been wearing it during the match against Ivana. It had not brought her luck at all. Elise wondered if Amanda had taken it off already or even thrown it away.

              “Just give me a call whenever you feel like it,” Elise said. She just knew Amanda wouldn’t call.

              “Yes, sure,” the Australian replied. “Good luck to you today.”

              Elise felt the lump in her throat and swallowed hard. She herself had to play her third round match today. It wouldn’t be easy. She had to play Tamara Parova, a Top 10 player, she had played twice before but never beaten. Elise thanked Amanda and hung up. She sat in the buzzing players’ lounge checking on the court where she was due to play. The ongoing match was still in the first set. She’d probably had to wait another hour or two. A lot of time to think about Amanda, she realized and sighed.

***

Tamara looked up to her box into the stern faces watching her. Again she had been broken by the young German opponent. German-French she should say. The loud support Elise Renard was receiving from the crowd had helped her overcome the abysmal performance she had put on display in the first set. Buoyed by overwhelming applause Elise had fought back like a tigress and had clinched the second set 6-4 against Tamara.

              Heading into the decider the young German had a good start as Tamara’s racquet string broke on a crucial point giving Elise an advantage and an important game. From then on the young girl on the other side of the net seemed to be on fire. She had already hit seven aces, each one cheered by her French supporters and Elise’s horrendous number of unforced errors she had hit in the first set now seemed a lifetime away. As if she was mocking Tamara now, she hit winner after winner, giving the Russian the runaround.

              Tamara got up and walked over to the opposite baseline. It was a interesting mixture of agitation and anger Tamara sensed in her young opponent whenever they passed each other at the change of ends. Tamara figured that if she accidentally ran into the German Elise would probably punch her out of unspecified frustration but would still feel excited about the attention she’d received from the audience for it. Like a prizefighter, Tamara thought stepping up to the baseline to serve. But then she shook her head. There was no time to think about Elise’s personality. She was trailing 2-4 in the third set and she needed to hold. A loss in the third round of a Grand Slam would have been a bad result. Moreover, to someone ranked outside the Top 100. Elise Renard was a qualifier, Tamara thought grimply. Well, to be honest, she was playing like a Top 20 player now. At least Top 20, Tamara had to admit.

              Besides that, Elise had grown up on clay, whereas Tamara had never liked the red surface. It was a remarkable comeback for the young player after she had been sidelined almost the entire summer in the previous season.

              Tamara tucked the second ball under her skirt and got ready to serve. Nothing but a qualifier, she thought and tossed the ball up.

              Her first serve went out wide but a deep second serve induced Elise to hit a forehand return long.

              “15 – Love,” the chair umpire announced.

              Tamara tossed the ball high into the air and sent a good shot down the T, but Elise’s return clipped the net cord and dropped dead for a winner. The French crowd cheered in unison for Elise.

              In the next rally the German player forced Tamara to hit a short ball, and routinely dispatched it with an drive volley

              15 – 30.

              Suddenly Tamara was on the back foot again. Tamara needed to hold, she knew it, but the double fault she produced for 15 – 40 certainly did not help. In frustration she let out a loud wail. With a bang her racquet hit the clay, but she refrained from kicking it with her foot to avoid a warning by the umpire.

              The Parisian crowd had begun to cheer for Elise again, some of the spectators booed Tamara’s outburst. The Russian breathed in deeply before picking up her racquet and turning around to accept new balls from the ball girl.

              After her first service went wide, Tamara opted for a safe shot on her second service. It went into the service box but was punished by Elise with a pinpoint down-the-line winner right on the baseline. Still looking at the spot where the ball had hit the clay, Tamara could hear her opponent’s loud “C’mon” from the other side of the court.

              Elise would serve for the match.

***

“There is no question that Renard has the game to get back to the top,” Samantha Watts said into her microphone while looking down upon the court. “She has the big serve that helps her set up easy winners but also terrific variation on that serve. She can shorten up the power and find angles in the service box.”

              “She really has all the serves in the bag,” Hugh Andrews agreed. “It makes it very tough for the returner to know which one to cover, and how fast it’s going to come at them.”

              “On the other hand she has great touch throwing in nifty drop shots after she has opened the front of the court with her big ground strokes. Starting with the second set she really worked herself into this match and now has the upper hand.”

              “I’m certain Parova would have been able to impose her Top 10 status if she stayed tight to Renard,” Hugh said into the microphone. “But this is a very comfortable lead for the young German, and even if she gets nervous she has two attempts to serve it out, and her service games have been almost flawless in the third set.”

              Sam nodded. “Tamara must pick up her game or this could be over in a few minutes.”

              With amazement they both had watched the German player go up 5-2 in the third set. Since her knee injury Elise Renard had struggled to string together more than two or three wins. The Australian summer had not been very successful for the friendly player. However, only a week ago Sam, Hugh and Paola had discussed the good performance of Elise Renard in Stuttgart. All of the German girls were doing great, most of all Carina Gnocchi, the world No. 1 with Italian roots and Angela Porovski, the second best player in the German team. With Stephanie Moeller and a regaining Elise Renard the German team had good chances to win the Fed Cup team competition in the following years. Watching Elise Renard come back so strong in her first Grand Slam main draw of this season was exciting.

              Walking to the baseline the German girl was cheered on by a loud and ongoing applause from the Parisian crowd.

              “This would be a great upset and definitely could give this year’s French Open a new twist. Renard has the chance to go really deep in this tournament and she’s on track to become the crowd favorite.”

              Sam agreed. The young player had shown the ability to capture the hearts of the otherwise often rude French audience. Even though she trained in Florida and Germany and was playing for the German Fed Cup team, it felt as if Elise Renard was playing on home turf. She was embraced by the French audience much more than Morgana Doré, who was French and a Top 10 player after all.

              Two brilliant serves gave Elise Renard a 30-0 lead in this important game. The next serve was deep into the corner but Tamara managed to get it back. After a few baseline shots Tamara hit a crosscourt forehand deep into the corner. Elise was running it down and was just about to hit the ball when all of a sudden her right knee buckled. For a second, Sam feared the young woman would fall to the ground but she only wobbled before stopping in her tracks and leaning heavily onto her racquet. The ball was gone and Tamara got ready again to receive another serve but Elise didn’t step to the baseline but instead carefully walked to her chair. A loud and terrified murmur ran through the stands. Everyone knew that the Elise had lost almost a whole season due to her knee injury.

              “She calls a trainer,” Hugh commented with a stern voice.

              “Hopefully it’s just a temporary fright,” Sam said into the microphone. “It would be a shame if she had to give up at this point.” But she feared the worst. What player would call a trainer being two points away from winning the match if it wasn’t serious?

              After an injury time-out in which she received a short examination and was bandaged to support the knee, Elise got up and made a few steps. Apparently she had no problem walking. In unison the spectators let out a loud sigh of relief as play continued. But after another rally it became clear that the German was unable to make quick steps from one side to another. She refrained from going into the corners and Tamara, who had nothing to lose but sensed a chance to break the young player began to hit the balls closer and closer to the lines. Elise got broken on her serve.

              “There’s obviously something wrong with her knee,” Sam said gravely. Even the crowd had gone silent in the last game. For the next twenty minutes the French audience had not much to cheer for. Tamara had picked up her game as well as her hopes to turn the match around and rigorously went for the lines.

              In the end it was Tamara who won the third set 6-4, winning five games in a row and therefore the match.

              “It’s really sad for Renard, who had worked so hard to get up two breaks in the third set,” Hugh said watching the players shake hands on the court. Elise went to her chair and sat down burying her head in the towel. She was crying.

              “Let’s just hope that it’s nothing serious and can be sorted out quickly.”

***

Even though their little secret pact seemed to be going smoothly, there was one moment when Luella thought that perhaps she should have played by the rules – when Gabriella lost while pretending to be her on court.

              A strong sentiment of injustice spread over her. This was not some piddling, little tournament. This was the French Open and Gabriella had screwed up during a Grand Slam while everyone thought that it was actually her, Luella, who had lost. There was nothing she could do about it. She had to accept the fact that Roland Garros was over for her this year. The only good thing was the fact that this was Paris, the shopping capital par excellence.

              Looking at herself in the mirror of the fitting room, Lulu pouted. The knee-length skirt suited her even though she was soon heading to England where an umbrella probably came in more handy than summer clothing. But why not go on a shopping spree? It was a harmless little pleasure that felt justifiable now that Gabriella had lost Lulu’s match. Other players indulged in chocolate, cake and whipped cream after a bad loss. Her perfect hips had to be grateful that she preferred bags and dresses. Putting her own clothes back on, she grabbed the skirt and quickly stepped out of the fitting room. 200 € was a bargain dutifully compensating for a Grand Slam defeat.

              As she left the fitting room, her eyes caught a figure quickly disappearing behind a mannequin. Only the straw hat and a glimpse of large sunglasses were visible. Luella rolled her eyes. Sasha was following her again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.               Not this time as she hadn’t gone to Les Champs Elysées like most of the players did but to La rue de Rivoli in the 4th arrondissement. The chances that she would find herself in the same store as Sasha were virtually nonexistent. However, the Czech was there, now pretending to look at jerseys. Why couldn’t she stop following Lulu and instead make believe a little more with her boyfriend? The Galloway knew the answer. Lulu was awesome and hot, and even though she wasn’t into girls at all, it flattered her that Sasha might have a crush on her. But the constant stalking was becoming slightly annoying to say the least.

              Holding back a sigh, Lulu turned her head only to notice someone else she knew. One of the photographers who were working for the WTA website was standing outside in the street, a camera in hand. His eyes were staring intently at Sasha. Now he was aiming the camera through the shop window. Luella quickly turned her head away pretending to go through some tops on a clothes rail. What exactly was going on here? Lulu bit her lower lip, trying to remember the guy’s name. Todd? Tim? Tom! It was Tom! Obviously he was on a secret mission and to Luella’s amusement he was failing to be invisible just as much as the Czech player he followed.

              “C’est pour un cadeau?”

              Not understanding a single word of what the salesgirl had told her, Lulu shook her head and handed her the skirt she intended to buy. Sasha was about to leave the store. Where was she going now? To hide behind a streetlamp? Luella paid and grabbed her bag.

              Sasha had positioned herself on the other side of the road, boiously waiting for Lulu to leave the store. Hiding behind a tree was Tom, observing Sasha. This couldn’t possibly be an official job assignment, Luella thought. Strolling down the street she sensed that Sasha and Tom were walking behind her. She put on her sunglasses and walked faster. If she was actually part of an absurd scenario where she was followed by a mad woman who was herself followed by a guy who clandestinely took photos of her, Lulu figured she could at least have a bit fun with them. With a big grin she headed for the Châtelet Metro station and took the next train to the red light district of Pigalle.

***

Where the hell could she get flowers now? She had never needed a flower bouquet before so Amanda had no idea if there even was a flower shop on the Roland Garros site. She was pretty sure there was none. So she made her way to the reception desk for players’ services.

              “Can you get me a flower bouquet?”

              The young woman behind the desk looked up discombobulated. Granted, Amanda usually asked for dinner reservations or room service chocolate or massage appointments or a private cab. Not flowers. After a short moment, however, the girl gave her a huge smile.

              “Sure, any specific flowers or color combinations?”

              Amanda hadn’t thought about that. The only flowers she could name were roses. But roses were a bit too much, she thought.

              “No, just a simple bouquet,” she told the young woman. “But I need it as soon as possible.”

              The young woman hesitated but then suddenly turned away and ducked down behind her desk. Within seconds she popped up again holding a spray of yellow flowers in hand.

              “Something like this?” She held out her hand and lowered her voice. “It’s a left-over from Yelena Kovalenko’s ex- boyfriend. She apparently dumped him this morning when he showed up after partying the whole night. She didn’t want the bouquet.”

              Amanda looked at the flowers. Should she take a used bouquet? But then she concluded that this was probably her best chance to get flowers. She nodded.

              “Yes, the bouquet looks lovely. Just put it on my bill!”

              “Oh, but it’s free. He just left it here. But if you like,” she said with a smile, “you can give me a recommendation. I just started working here in Roland Garros but I would love to work on the tour. My name is Alice.”

              “Sure,” Amanda answered. “I’d be happy to help you. You just saved my life!” She gave Alice a little wave with the yellow spray, then hurried outside of the administration area.

              The infirmary was located in the basement of Court Philippe Chatrier. Amanda hurried down the corridor clutching the flowers. She really hadn’t planned to watch the match. She had only tried to kill some time, since suddenly she had too much of it. She had gone out to the practice court after her loss, hitting a few hundred balls with Dan to let off steam, and then she had nothing to do.

              She thought she could watch some tennis instead and ended up in the stands of Elise’s match against Tamara. She was impressed by her young doubles partner. Elise really was a fine player. It was shocking to see her go down like that. But even worse was the fear of another serious injury. Worrying about Elise had completely taken Amanda’s mind off her own misery.

              Amanda knocked on the door of the players’ infirmary but didn’t wait for someone to open it. She slipped inside and closed the door again. In the next room Amanda could hear several people talking. There was Elise’s dad and probably a doctor inquiring about the injury and the pain, and then she could hear Elise’s voice.

              “I only felt a short pain when going for the ball. It didn’t come back again. It was all fine when the trainer came and checked the knee,” the German admitted meekly. “It was actually fine when I played, but I was so frightened that I might hurt it again that I didn’t go into the corners anymore.”

              Inside the room Elise started sobbing and the sound made Amanda miserable. Elise really seemed to have no luck. The doctor came out of the treatment room, and when he had left Amanda plucked up her courage and stepped into the room. Seeing her guest, Elise immediately sat straight up and wiped her tears away while Elise’s dad gave Amanda a friendly nod.

              “I heard what happened and thought I’d bring you some flowers,” Amanda said with a sheepish grin. She suddenly felt almost overdressed with the bouquet in her hand and quickly held out the flowers to Elise.

              “That’s sweet,” Elise said looking up to Amanda. “I already feel a lot better. It was nothing actually.”

              She gave her father a little nod and understanding the hint he left the room, announcing that he would wait outside.

              “Will you get an MRI?” Amanda sat down next to Elise.

              “Tomorrow,” she answered. “I already had an X-Ray. But there was nothing.” Looking down onto her feet she said quietly, “I didn’t lose because of the knee, you know? It gave me a fright, that’s true, but I got all tight in the end because I was so close and it would have been such a huge win.”

              Amanda knew the feeling. She suddenly felt like hugging this girl.

              “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

              Elise looked up in surprise.

              “Not with Dan though,” Amanda added with a shy grin. “I have been eating lamb for a whole week now. I thought we could go some other place instead. Just you and me.”

***

“How can you even eat this thing?”

Ted turned his head to Carina Gnocchi, who was sitting next to him.

              “This thing is foie gras,” he said, munching demonstratively on his food. “And it is delicious. Much better than having pizza for weeks.”

              Since Rome he had been able to avoid the tedious German, but today they were presented a preview of the commercial they did together before the French Open had started. The French Grand Slam had turned out to be a lot more relaxing for Ted, at least from a personal point of view. No need to juggle between his secret rendezvous with Tom and the official and boring photo shoots and interviews with Felicia. The Aussie singer was on tour, thankfully, and Ted was having a good time in Paris, spending the evenings with Tom.

              Not tonight though. Carina was on a roll.

              “It’s the liver of an animal. An animal they have stuffed to death! It’s completely disgusting.”

              Their sponsor had scheduled a mid-tournament meeting to show them the rough cut of their TV commercial, which would air during the grass season on Supersport channel.

              Ted waved off Carina’s comment with an impatient hand gesture, then closed his eyes to bite into another piece of foie gras. He wouldn’t have too much of the heavy delicacy but since he was in France only once a year he allowed himself to give in to the culinary sin. From the other side of the table, Paola Scetti grinned at the scene. She would do a little making-off interview with the two players afterwards for Supersport.

              “How is Felicia?” Ted heard Carina say through a wall of foie gras bliss. Was there a nasty tone in her voice? He opened his eyes again and looked over to her. He couldn’t believe Carina was truly jealous of Felicia. That would have been the joke of the century!

              “Is she missing the company of a certain tennis player?”

              Now, Ted was wide awake. The last sentence was clearly said tongue-in-cheek.

              “Oh, she’s having a good time touring with her band.” Ted tried to sound relaxed.

              “Sure,” Carina said. “But a certain tennis player seems to miss her badly.”

              “I wouldn’t have time during Roland Garros anyway,” Ted said politely. He sensed that Paola was following their exchange and that she was noticing the undercurrent of the conversation but was unable to decipher it.

              “Oh, I actually meant Amanda, not you. She seems pretty close to Felicia and unable to win a match when Felicia is not around,” Carina said with a smile. “But I’m sure you know that, don’t you?”

              Ted felt his face grow hot. He couldn’t believe what was happening right now but it was impossible to mistake the German’s undertone. Carina Gnocchi was hinting deliberately and in front of a media colleague to a possible lesbian relationship between Amanda and Felicia. This was outrageous! What was this person thinking? Ted tried to remain calm, while chewing on a piece of liver. There was nothing going on anymore between Amanda and Felicia. He and his management had made sure of it reminding Felicia of her contract with Ted and she had dutifully dumped the Australian. Just in time, as Carina’s nasty remarks indicated. The rumor mill had already started and was still going slowly against him. He needed to come up with a good explanation for this triangle between himself, Felicia and Amanda. He had to think! Quickly!

              “Well,” he started, trying to gain a little more time, and then he had an idea. “It was actually Amanda who introduced me to Felicia.”

              Carina seemed surprised. Looking across the table Ted saw that Paola had raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Was it a wise move? What if Carina asked Amanda about it?

              “Oh,” Carina said finally. “They really are friends from school then?”

              Ted was relieved. So there had never been certainty about Felicia and Amanda. Just the one or two rumors floating through the players’ lounges dissolving into many theories, and one of them seemed to be the old-school-friend theory.

              He nodded and quickly turned his attention back to the foie gras.

***

The night air was cooling down the city and Elise felt the first chill. She pulled her jacket tighter. Walking the still buzzing streets of the 16arrondissement Elise thought that Paris had to be the most beautiful place on earth. With a little smile, she admitted that it might have something to do with the girl walking next to her.

              Amanda had taken her out to a very good, but not too fancy restaurant close to her hotel. She really knew her way around Paris having been on tour for such a long time now. In the relaxing atmosphere of a cozy patio they had talked for hours about life on the tour, life off the tour, their dreams, their fears, injuries and too many things to recall even minutes later. They were able to talk as if they had known each other for ages.

              During the conversation a thought was crossing Elise’s mind from time to time, and sitting there with Amanda having such a pleasant evening she truly considered saying it out loud. After they had a good laugh outplaying each other with the best worst-journey-adventure episodes, Elise finally felt comfortable enough to give the conversation yet another turn. She just needed to know what was going on in Amanda’s life.

              “Are you in a relationship?” She had asked it as casually as possible but she immediately noticed Amanda shifting in her chair, alerted by the unexpected question.

              Elise felt Amanda’s eyes on her. “Why do you ask?”

              Elise shrugged. She couldn’t possibly tell Amanda the truth behind her inquiry.

              “I just heard you were with someone,” she mumbled.

              “With whom?” Amanda frowned. Elise began to feel uncomfortable. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut?

              “Natsumi,” she replied sheepishly.

              “What?” Amanda leaned back shaking her head in amazement. Then she started laughing almost spilling soup over the table. “I can’t believe this old story is still going around. Well, even better.”

              She shrugged and continued eating, leaving Elise at a loss with that cryptic answer. Moreover, there had been no inquiries of that kind from Amanda about Elise. Even though Elise feared the inspection of her private life, in this case she was disappointed. Amanda really didn’t seem to be interested at all in Elise except as friends and Elise made the resolution not to be sad when it was time to say good-bye but instead to enjoy every minute with Amanda. Only the minutes seemed to be zooming by in Amanda’s presence and Elise felt a lump creeping up her throat now that they were approaching the Australian’s hotel. When they had reached the hotel entrance Amanda turned to Elise.

              “See you around, Elise,” Amanda said.

              This was it, Elise thought with a little shock. In spite of her plan to have none of the usual sentimental good-bye ceremonies Elise couldn’t help waiting another second and another and another. Why couldn’t this wonderful Australian just grab her hand and kiss her? Before her desperation would show she quickly gave Amanda a huge smile.

              “Good night,” Elise said resolutely. After giving Amanda only a hint of an embrace she began walking down the street but turned around to wave for a last time. Amanda was standing in the entrance of the Hotel Figaro smiling and waving back at her before she turned around to enter the hotel. Even though they were parting for an indefinite time the gesture made Elise’s heart jump. With a little hopping step she continued to walk down the street looking out to find a taxi. She felt slaphappy. Yes, it would have been too good to be true. After all, what had she expected? A kiss in the streets of Paris? These great moments only happened in the movies.

              She walked more slowly. It was the second time today that a great moment had passed her by. All of a sudden the scenes from the match flashed back to her mind. She had been so close to victory and then it was gone. And only a few minutes ago she was so close to Amanda and now she was gone.

              Elise stopped walking. She should have done it! She should have kissed Amanda. What bad could possibly have happened? Well, a lot of bad things to be honest. Amanda could have slapped her in surprise or yelled at her. Or she could have told her very matter-of-factly that she wasn’t in love with Elise. But then at least Elise would have been certain. Or Amanda could have kissed her back. Yes, that could have happened, too.

              But nothing had happened. Elise had waited for a Hollywood moment and the moment never came. She had played passively when she should have gone for a winner, like she did on court all the time. It would have been a risky shot but victory would have been even sweeter.

              “Coward,” she whispered to herself.

              Hearing the word spoken out loud suddenly stirred the thought in her that it might not be over yet. How often had she turned a match around and in the end won? Perhaps she could do it now, too? She turned around and began walking towards the hotel again. Should she invent a story? Why would she be standing there outside the room banging on the door? What could she tell Amanda?

              I want you. Elise formed the words with her lips but no sound came out. I want you. I want you so bad. Elise was only a few steps away from the hotel. Elise stopped in her tracks. No, she couldn’t do it. She turned away from the hotel entrance and slowly walked down the street towards Avenue Mozart where she hoped to find a cab.

              She really was a coward.

***

Waiting for the elevator Amanda couldn’t help smiling. Taking Elise out to dinner had been the best idea she had had in ages. Even during the Stuttgart tournament there hadn’t been time to talk about a lot of things. Amanda had to admit she was impressed by the German. Even though Elise made the impression on many people of a lighthearted, even superficial young woman, Amanda had seen a different side of her today. This was someone who was able to give careful thoughts on life and express them, however diffidently.

              Elise’s question about her private life had startled Amanda. Sure, it was not unusual to ask and by then they had begun talking about their friends and family already. Perhaps Elise was just eager to know the truth about these locker room talks that were going around about Amanda and in fact every player had to endure once in a while. Asking the person directly seemed a good way to do so. However, Amanda had had the feeling that Elise had something else on her mind. For a moment, Amanda had dwelt on the thought that this girl really was in love with her. Even now, she wondered which gestures and looks could have had such meaning.

              Amanda sighed. She had never been good at reading signs and had gotten it wrong several times in the past followed by some embarrassing moments she would have loved to forget. But recapitulating the evening she couldn’t deny the fact that Elise hung on every word she had said. To be honest, that had been the case in Stuttgart, too, Amanda remembered. They had spent the evening in a local restaurant after their doubles win and afterward, there had been that awkward moment in the hotel corridor when Elise had planted a kiss on Amanda’s cheek.

              The elevator arrived and a young couple stepped out but Amanda didn’t move. Back in Stuttgart, she had blamed herself for giving in to illusions but, in fact, it had been Elise who had kissed her. It had been Elise who had written her little texts every morning the week after Stuttgart. It had been Elise who had bought Amanda the little blue bracelet she was wearing right now.

              The elevator door closed and lost in thought Amanda was about to push the button again when a thought made her freeze. All the looks, the gestures, the text messages, the little kiss on the cheek finally made sense. And that inquiry about Amanda’s alleged relationship with Natsumi? Elise wanted to find out if she was single!

              “How stupid can you get!”

              Amanda turned on her heels and ran through the lobby. She needed to hurry. Elise could have reached Avenue Mozart by now and might take a taxi before Amanda could reach her. The Australian kicked it up a gear, speeding through the entrance door and looking in the direction Elise where had walked off and almost fell down the two steps onto the pavement – in surprise. Elise was only about fifty feet away from her. It looked like she had not made ground at all since they had said good-bye and Amanda had entered the hotel. Shaking her head, Amanda followed Elise quickly but slowed down when she reached her.

              “Elise,” she called out after her.

              Stopping under a plane tree the German swung around, her eyes wide open. It almost seemed a shock for her to see Amanda.

              “You didn’t get very far,” Amanda laughed awkwardly. Elise just stared at her as if Amanda was some kind of vision. Why wasn’t she happy to see her? The young German had grown all tense. She almost looked desperate.

              “I thought –,” Amanda started again feverishly searching for a credible reason for running after Elise. “I thought we could go on a boat ride tomorrow.”

              Still Elise seemed at a loss. She looked like she hadn’t understood a word of what Amanda had just said. Amanda opened her mouth to explain it again when all of a sudden, Elise broke into an excited, astonished smile while beginning to wring her hands and wobble on her feet.

              “Yes,” Elise exclaimed. “Yes, I’d love to.”

              The glow of enthusiasm that brightened up the sweet face filled Amanda with a sudden warmth and confidence. She took a step closer to the beaming young woman.

              “Elise,” she said quietly, looking down to her feet. “There is one more thing.” Then she glanced up to the tall German and saw that Elise had grown very calm, waiting. Bracing herself, Amanda rose up onto her tiptoes. Elise’s face was only inches away and she could feel her breath on her skin. Amanda hesitated one more second but seeing Elise’s lips part into a big smile she stretched a little more, cupped Elise’s face with one hand and reached out with her other to embrace the girl.

              Elise’s lips were cool and soft, and Amanda closed her eyes. Even though she could hear the sound of cars, people chatting, and music from a window floating into the street, nothing in Paris seemed to move. It was only them, the rustling leaves above, breath against breath, lips on lips, arms wrapped around each other. All the moments spent with Elise seemed to flash before Amanda’s eyes – from the first encounter a few years ago, to the late-night clash with Mint at the Australian Open at the beginning of the year, to the fateful evening when Monica set them up to play doubles. All the looks and gestures in the locker rooms and on the court as well as the shy kiss in the hotel corridor in Stuttgart, the sleepless night after, the wake-up texts and the dinner only half an hour ago were racing before her closed eyes. Each of these events now had acquired the touch of destiny leading them to this place under a tree in a Parisian street.

              When their kisses grew more steady and their bodies began to relax they opened their eyes again and looking at each other with foolish little grins on their hot faces they realized that the city had gone to sleep. They must have been standing there for ages.

              Still clinging to Elise Amanda became aware of yet another change – this time within herself. Serving out a match was never easy, Amanda knew. But this time she had aced it. When it already seemed like her time had run out she had served a love game.

Eastbourne, Great Britain

Mint Rickenbacher looked back at the white houses which lined the Grand Parade of the Eastbourne seaside. She and Chili had taken a walk out on the pier, and had settled down in a coffee shop to catch up as they hadn’t seen each other since the first week of Roland Garros in Paris. Chili shrugged, then nodded slowly.

              “Good start for you Americans,” Chili said sticking her nose in the sea breeze. Mint had won her match earlier that day as had the Galloways.

              “They like the grass. My bet for a nice run in Wimbledon would be on Gabriella though. She is doing great. Actually, she had a very good run in Paris.” Gaga had reached the quarterfinal.

              “Yes,” Chili sighed. “Both are doing fine. Luella lost against Sasha in Paris. Could be worse. Yet they are far from being Top 10 material, if you ask me. The constant changing of their coach is ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense at all!”

              Mint nodded. The way they hired a new coach several times a year was curious and rare. Tennis players usually stuck with the same team for at least one season in order to build the necessary trust that was needed between a player and a coach. But not the Galloway sisters. Instead, they almost got someone new for each surface.

              “They barely have time to get used to one another,” Cecilia continued. “Why would you change your coach that often especially when everything is going well?”

              “Yes, I know.” Mint shrugged. She wasn’t extremely close to Lulu and Gaga in spite of being American as well, yet who was close to them anyway? “But maybe that’s their secret.”

              “Oh, come on,” Chili teased. “You must know something! These are your compatriots.”

              “So? I don’t know anything about them. They keep to themselves most of the time.”

              Miffed about Mint’s gruff answer Chili looked out onto the sea. “Like you.”

              “What?” Mint shook her head. “You are the one who’s been hanging with all the Spanish girls lately.”

              Before the two girls could begin a dispute about each other’s disloyalty, peppered with Spanish swear words by Chili, the familiar face of Natsumi Takashima peeped into the coffee house. Chili grinned. The older player had become a confidant they could ask for help and advice. Most of all, however, they asked her for new Tennis Nurse novels. The bulky purse on Natsumi’s shoulder looked promising.

***

“Aren’t you excited? I’m so excited!”

              The loud exclaim put an abrupt stop to Sasha’s contemplation of the English coastal landscape. The Czech player turned around and put a fake and – she was afraid – very forced smile on her lips while nodding at Morgana.

              “Oh, I can barely wait.” Sasha’s remark lacked enthusiasm but as usual, the French player was head over heels for what she called ‘the ultimate Tennis Nurse mission’ and didn’t notice the Czech’s annoyed face. Turning back towards the window of the bus, the tall brunette tried to block out Morgana’s ramblings but the view from the road overlooking the sea wasn’t exactly spectacular.

              “Have you ever been to Brighton before? I haven’t. I’m so glad to have an opportunity to leave Eastbourne for a couple of hours and maybe find out who the writer of Tennis Nurse is!”

              Sasha shook her head at her own stupidity. Why had she told Morgana about the address? Sasha could have at least waited until Wimbledon to reveal the old distribution address of the Tennis Nurse novels. After the French Open she had paid a brief visit to her family in Prague and had found the address written down on a little piece of paper which was buried in one of her old racquet bags. This morning before their matches she had approached Morgana in the players’ lounge and had slipped the French woman the little paper sheet under the table. Morgana’s excitement had been overwhelming. But when Morgana had taken out her notebook and checked an online map for the fastest public transportation from Eastbourne to Brighton, Sasha first thought that she had missed a French joke. They were in the middle of a tournament!

              “I will most definitely not go to Brighton,” Sasha had hissed over the table.              “This is insane. We both have matches soon, and I want to spend at least the afternoon recovering. I need to be ready for tomorrow.”

              But Morgana only smiled.             

              “Yes, of course, but we would have so much time to talk about the twins. There is something I have found out, but it’s too complicated to tell you here in the players’ café.”

              Of course, Sasha had given in and there she was now. Stuck on an old bus with Morgana, on the road to Brighton when she could have stayed at her hotel getting a much needed massage or reading the novel she had just started.

              “What if we don’t find anything? What if the address is just the one of a publishing house or something and at the end, we don’t learn anything new? We should have called first.”

              “But I told you about it a thousand times already. I couldn’t find any phone number which only highlights the fact that someone is hiding something and it could definitely be the author herself. Boy, can you imagine if we found out about it? Trés magnifique!”

              “Sure, that would be fantastic,” Sasha replied slowly. “Now tell me a bit more about Lulu and Gaga. I mean, we still have some time before making it to Brighton so why wouldn’t you take advantage of it and tell me what you know?”

              She was dying to hear what Morgana had found out about the twins, even though she hated to admit it. But Morgana smiled brightly and shook her head.

              “I will tell you about it later,” Morgana said smugly. “When we stop for a drink.”

              Morgana was a tough one. In the end Morgana would probably tell her that Luella was hot for Sasha. As if the Czech hadn’t guessed already after that awkward encounter with Lulu in the French Open locker room. Frustrated Sasha turned back towards the window and nestled down in her seat, watching the British coastline speeding by.

***

They could have been lying there for hours, smiling like Cheshire cats and yet not saying one word because they didn’t have any and there was no need for words anyway.

              Amanda was sitting on her bed, her notebook placed on her lap and watching Elise, who looked back at her from the screen. Paris seemed far behind. Too far. Yet, she remembered it all as if it had only happened a few hours earlier. The scare she had gotten, after Elise seemed injured, the moment in the infirmary, and, of course, the hours they had spent kissing in the street. And then the very next day. It had been the first whole day they had spent together, away from any tennis courts and moreover, spend away from their team and Elise’s parents. The view of Paris from the boat was great, but they were constantly surrounded by tourists. Finally they decided to get off the boat and go back along the Seine by renting a bike. It had been a wonderful and unforgettable day.

              But the grass season had approached without mercy and while she had gone over to Britain to play Eastbourne, Elise had stayed on the continent to play the smaller grass tournament at ‘s-Hertogenbosch. Having very different tournament schedules due to their rankings, it was hard to keep in touch all the time. When back at their hotels at night, they could finally meet each other in video calls and they would talk endlessly till late at night. It was their only time together and they thought about it all day long.

              “Ivana Katina next?”

              Amanda wondered about Elise’s prospects against the Russian player. “She is a good player but your game doesn’t suit her. If you can get her on the move and to the net you should be fine. I am looking forward to hearing about your win. I say, Elise Renard in straight sets.”

              Amanda’s encouraging words made Elise smile brightly. God, did Amanda love this smile. It lit up Elise’s features and Amanda thought, that one day she would die on the spot because of that look in Elise’s eyes. On the other hand, if that girl ever stopped looking at her like that she’d probably die, too. Repressing a yawn, Elise blushed slightly.

              “Thank you,” she said. “I am sure that you will do fine, too. You always do.”

              Amanda felt that there was something else she wanted to say, but Elise seemed to hesitate. She could be very shy, which only made Amanda even more timid herself especially in front of a webcam.

              “I miss you,” Elise said finally. Amanda swallowed hard. Why did they have to be so far from each other? With Elise still ranked in the Top 80, they had no idea when they would see each other again. Sure, Wimbledon was coming up but Elise wasn’t certain that she would make the main draw. If she didn’t qualify they only had three or four days together in the beginning of the Grand Slam.

              “I miss you, too.” Amanda was glad that Elise had said it first and she only had to repeat it. She wasn’t good at all at expressing her feelings. She felt it sounded corny coming out of her mouth, if she said it first. Elise repressed another yawn, which made Amanda smile. It was late and playing matches every day had finally taken a toll.

              “We should go to sleep, Elise.”

              “No, I’m fine!”

              Amanda had to laugh. Of course, Elise was tired but she didn’t mind. It was all about being with Amanda, and their evenings in front of their laptops was the only way to be close to each other. Settling further on the comfortable pillows of her bed, Elise kept on smiling at Amanda. She looked a bit feeble-minded but Amanda couldn’t have cared less. It made her love that girl even more as that foolish grin was all she needed. She probably didn’t look any better herself.

              All of a sudden, Amanda remembered something. She sat up on her own bed.

              “Wait, I need to show you something that a fan gave me today. I’m sure you will love it.”

              Putting down her laptop on the bed, Amanda got up and headed straight to the table on the other end of her hotel room. Where did she put it? She rummaged through her belongings which were scattered all across the room. While searching she wondered, if Elise was a neat person. She was German, after all.

              “Just a second,” she shouted to the computer on her bed.

              Finally, she found what she was looking for. Between a half-empty bottle of water and various packs of overgrips was a tennis-dressed Paddington Bear with the same kind of sun glasses Amanda wore herself. An unusual present, yet a funny one. With a joyful leap Amanda jumped back onto her bed, lifting the bear to the camera.

              “Look!”

              She waved the bear in front of the webcam.

              “If you like, I can send it over to ‘s-Hertogenbosch by express delivery and you won’t have to sleep alone.”

              She waited for Elise’s reaction but the girl on the other side didn’t move. Taking the bear down, Amanda saw that Elise’s head was placed on her right arm and she was facing the camera but her eyes were closed.

              “Elise?” Amanda asked softly. “Are you sleeping?”

              Elise didn’t answer. She had fallen asleep in front of the computer. Putting the bear away, Amanda slipped under the sheets, looked fondly at the relaxed face and listened to the slow breathing on the other side of a fiber optic cable. She wondered when she would actually see that in reality – Elise sleeping next to her.

              Thinking about what the future might bring for them, Amanda watched the dreaming girl until Elise’s computer went into stand-by mode and the screen went black.

***

“Has someone ever tried the sausages and mash?” Agnes studied the menu that the pub hostess had given her a few minutes earlier. “British food. What a dilemma!” the French player mumbled, still waiting for an answer from the three other people at her table. After the long and exhausting day, Agnes, Candice, Martina and Antonia had decided to go out to have some traditional British food. They sat inside a cozy pub, safe from the wind and the rain that swept the streets of Eastbourne.

              “The fish and chips are good though.” Martina was the first one to give her an answer, Agnes and Antonia simply shrugging their heads in silence. All of them still stared non-plussed at the menu.

              “Fish and chips. It’s the only thing I eat when I’m here,” Candice said. “In regard to my hips it’s perhaps not that bad that the grass season is so short.”

              “Be daring and have the mash,” her girlfriend Agnes suggested. “Unless you want this deep-fried thing with sauce the guy’s having at the table behind you.”

              Candice turned around, following Agnes’s motioning and couldn’t help making a face. The pile of food on the other customer’s plate looked unidentifiable and very greasy. No wonder the empire had crumbled.

              “I’m smitten with Britain,” she said with a grin. Agnes laughed at her lover while putting down her menu. They both loved the British season, especially the upcoming championships in Wimbledon. The traditions of the All England Lawn and Croquet Club, the ivy on the brick buildings and the calm atmosphere made the two weeks in Wimbledon special. It was just one event of many in a long year but it was unique.

              “I wish we could go back to more grass tournaments. If only for health reasons. The grass season is just too short. Another tournament would be fantastic, in my opinion.”

              Antonia sipped on her glass of water and nodded. Squeezed in between the clay and the U.S. hard court season, their time on grass barely lasted a few weeks.

              “Any predictions for this year?” Martina asked. “I think Morgana might have a good chance. She loves the grass. And did you see her today? Great ball-striking. Sasha might be a contender, too.”

              “You guys could do well in Wimby this year, no?” Antonia mentioned to Agnes. “And by the way, where is Monica?”

              Antonia’s question was fair enough. It was strange to not see Monica around. She rarely missed their evenings at the pub and her comments on the British cuisine were hilarious.

              “Apparently she went to Brighton,” Agnes explained the absence of her doubles partner. “She left early in the afternoon.”

              “Brighton? What for?” asked Candice, obviously surprised.

              Agnes shrugged, a bit disarmed. “I don’t know. It seems she has a friend there. Well, that’s what she told me.”

              “A friend? Now, that’s news. She never said that she knew some people in Brighton.” Martina raised a suspicious eyebrow, then picked up a dry piece of bread from a small plate placed on the center of the table.

              “Probably not tennis related,” Agnes added. “She remained vague about it when I asked her today. So I didn’t insist.”

              Agathe’s remark made Candice choke on her beer.

              “What? You didn’t insist?” Candice was clearly amused. “Since when do you hold yourself back simply because people don’t seem eager to tell you? Now, that’s news.”

              Smiling at her lover’s allusion, Agnes cleared her voice, then looked at Martina and Antonia.

              “Let’s talk about tennis for a change. I predict a surprise at Wimbledon.”

***

Being back home had finally brought some peace of mind. At least that’s what it felt like, Tom thought. He hadn’t been back in England for half a year now. His life had just taken off with his assignment to work for the WTA and he had not even had time to think about it. But now, sitting at his desk in the quiet of his hotel room in the heart of Eastbourne, it seemed like the right step. The sea breeze he smelled when walking through the town reminded him of holidays and that’s how he felt right now. He was on holidays in his own country.

              Writing little pieces for the WTA website, shooting pictures and producing short video clips with the players had given him the opportunity to get to know them quite well. Most of them were good-natured, easy-going girls who had accepted him quickly into their circle, enjoying his jokes while acknowledging his professional approach and the distance he kept from the players. He wondered, if some already had figured out that he was more interested in a certain male player than all the good-looking tennis girls surrounding him. No, he shook his head. Ted and he had been extremely careful of late. Ted had even persuaded Felicia, his fake girlfriend, to dump Amanda Auster. Not that he needed to push her too hard. Tom had the feeling that Felicia was enjoying the way she was playing with people. She couldn’t have cared less about Amanda’s feelings, which obviously had been true. The encounter between Felicia and Amanda in the Roman gay bar was telling enough regarding how much the break-up had hurt the Australian player. The next day she had lost her match.

              Tom only had had two or three assignments with the friendly player so far but he liked her. He felt bad for her results on the court that seemed to have resulted from the private ups and downs she had had to go through in the past month. Her early exit at the French Open was only one of the low points in the first half of the year.

              He wondered how much it affected the players to keep silent about their private lives, to watch out for cameras when with their girlfriends, to hold back displays of affection in public places. He knew for himself, how difficult it could be. Sometimes he just wanted to grab Ted Curry and place a kiss on his lips, but he couldn’t. He would never be able to do that, because Ted would never come out publicly. None of the guys would.

              The thought made him angry. He stopped midway and looked at the sheet of paper he had scribbled on. Something had to be done. It could not stay like this, he thought. If it was hard for him to endure the secretiveness how hard must it be for players who were constantly followed by the press and watched by millions? Sure, not everyone was the focus of media attention. Through Ted, he had met a few gay players who were ranked beyond the Top 50 and nobody seemed to care about them and their private lives. But from the Top 20 upwards it became extremely difficult to shield one’s love life. He wondered if it would actually be easier to come out and stop with the clandestine dealings. It would be hard in the beginning, but could only free them from the burden of being on the look-out for unwanted eyes or questions.

              Slowly he picked up the pen again and continued writing the list he had begun.

Confirmed:
Amanda: gay & everybody knows but no one says a word
Antonia: in a rel w/dubs partner…
Martina: w/Antonia
Agnes: former Top 10 singles player, in rel w/Candice
Monica: the only out player (CO: 2005), former No 1 singles, now only dubs w/Agnes

Rumors:
Sasha: fiancé visits gay bars (Rome), she had rumors herself when younger, is stalking (?) the Galloways
Mint: not much, just hints, maybe w/ Cecilia (?)
Cecilia: Spanish player, hangs more with the Spanish Fed Cup team mates since her election than with Mint

              After finishing the list he circled Sasha’s name and drew an arrow. At the end he wrote in capital letter:

CONFIRMATION NEEDED!

              He wasn’t interested in the lower ranked players. He was looking for confirmation about the big fish. At least Top 30. Because only big fish made a big splash. And a big splash was needed in the conservative world of tennis.

***

“Who?”
              “Tennis Nurse! The novels!” Shouting, so the old man could hear her, Morgana highlighted her speech by standing on her tiptoes as if it would make her words clearer to the obviously half-deaf man. Mr. Murray, as the door plate indicated.

              The man shook his head.

              “What is that? I have never heard of such a thing. Now if you will excuse me, there is a documentary about pets about to start on TV. Have a nice day.”

              He closed the door and skeptically, Sasha and Morgana observed the red door in silence, but it didn’t open again. Sasha snorted. Of course, Morgana’s ‘Tennis Nurse mission’ had lamentably failed and not only had it cost the Czech player an afternoon but she was soaking wet now, her umbrella having broken into pieces under the gushing rain as soon as she had stepped out of the bus. And now this old man had no idea about any novels. This was no publishing house. Morgana clearly had gotten it wrong.

              “At what time does the next bus leave for Eastbourne?” Sasha’s voice was gloomy and for the first time, the French player noticed it. It seemed like her enthusiasm had been smashed at the same time as the old man had closed the door with a loud bang. She had messed up big time.

              “8 P.M.”

              “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Why not say it in British, if they were here. Sasha clenched her fists. It was not even five which meant that they were stuck in Brighton for three more hours.

              “Maybe I can call a cab. I will pay for it!” Morgana knew that she had to make up for the failed expedition because she was the one to blame but for some reason, Sasha shook her head impatiently.

              “No. Let’s find a bar somewhere. It’s my first time in Brighton. At least let’s have a drink. But don’t you even dare to talk to me about Tennis Nurse again!”

              The first bar that showed up on their path looked like a traditional English pub which would serve their need to get out of the rain as well as their thirst for a lager. Both players stepped into the half-empty place called Mandy’s.

              “What’s your poison, gorgeous?” A tall, red-headed girl with a nose piercing showed up behind the counter and winked at them. Sasha sighed. Great. Of all places, they had landed in a lesbian bar.

              “A G & T for me. We’ll take that table there, in the corner. Thanks.”

              They settled down in the dark corner and as soon as the drinks arrived – carrot juice for Morgana – Sasha felt better. If the first cocktail soothed her frustration, the second glass opened the door to the introspection of her closeted life. That was clearly a terrain Sasha didn’t want to enter right now. A third cocktail was needed to quickly advance to wonderland. Sasha gave the waitress a nod and tapped the empty glass, missing Morgana’s raised eye-brow.

              After sipping half of the Gin & Tonic she felt light, in peace and actually glad to be here with Morgana. What a great bar with great music and a cheerful crowd that had showed up a few minutes before. Drawing the last drops of her cocktail through her straw, Sasha swallowed and raised her hands before shouting from the top of her lungs, “Empty!”

              Several heads turned in their direction.

              “Maybe we should go now,” Morgana said uneasily. “I guess you need some rest. You shouldn’t have had this third cocktail.”

              “Oh, shut up, party pooper and get me another one! I like it here. What a great place to be!”

              “Don’t you want to know what I found out about the Galloways?” Morgana smiled slyly. “I tell you what we will do. We will leave the bar, get a cab and talk a little bit, alright?”

              “No, Morgana. I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to go to the bar over there and order that drink myself.” The Czech player was slurring her words. She hadn’t even listened to Morgana. Sasha managed to stand up with difficulty and swept away an invisible comment with her hand.  “Bye bye, Birdie!”

              Unsteadily, she made her way to the bar and leaned on the counter. Waiting for the bartender to mix the drink, she turned her head only to stare at a woman sitting there on a stool. She looked extraordinary. Sasha was struck by the woman’s clear-cut features and blue eyes. It felt like she had known this girl for ages. For a moment Sasha forgot about her good intentions to focus only on tennis and felt a rush of desire and excitement flowing through her veins. She bent towards the girl.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she whispered.

***

“So, let’s get started,” Paola said into the microphone. “Hello, Luella.”

              “I’m Gabriella.”

              “Oh. I’m sorry. That must happen to you all the time!”

Paola Scetti burst out laughing. What a typical start for her! Not only had she been late, she also seemed completely unprepared. She shrugged the embarrassment away and started anew. A good interview began with a nice, friendly atmosphere anyway. She had learned that little by little on tour.

              “Gabriella, then. And hello, Luella,” she said to the other twin. “How are the most famous sisters on tour?”

              A reluctant nod welcomed Paola’s question.

              “Excellent results so far for the two of you. Is 2011 finally going to be your year?”

              “I guess it is more the logical continuation of 2010, to speak for myself,” Luella answered. “I finished the past season with very promising results and with a career high ranking. So 2011 will be my year, yes.”

              Paola smiled at the young woman in front of her and nodded quietly. Luella was full of herself. She had an enormous ego like so many athletes the journalist had met over the years. The question was if Lulu had the consistency to back it up with good results. In Paola’s opinion it was Gabriella who deserved a lot more praise. She had steadily worked on her game and had improved tremendously over the last month.

              “Do you share your sister’s point of view, Gabriella?”

              Gaga remained silent for a moment, passed her tongue over her lips then frowned. She was focused, looking for the right words. She didn’t rush into things as her sister did. She was the calmer one.

              “I try to work for every match, try to get better with every practice and every conversation we have with our coach. Winning my first premier title this year was an incredible reward, of course, but now I feel like working even more, so I can achieve that again.”

              “Speaking about coaches, you two surely have beaten the record with the the number of coaches you have worked with so far. How do you explain that? Is it hard to be a three-entity team?”

              “We like records,” Lulu said with a broad smile. “And we like change. It brings fresh air and every time, we get to learn new ways to improve ourselves. The more you pick here and there, the better obviously.”

              For some reason, Paola found Lulu’s smile to be tense. She wondered why. This question must have been asked many times before and the Galloways’ coaching changes were not exactly news as they happened so frequently.             

              “It isn’t necessarily easy to find the right one,” Gaga finally said. “Some players do immediately, others don’t. I’m afraid we belong to the second category. Especially, because there is two of us. The road is thus a bit chaotic but I guess that what we have to keep in mind is our results. We will be in a good position.”

              It was a diplomatic answer, Paola noticed. She wondered, why the twins never thought about having two coaches. They played different styles of tennis, they should practice differently. Now that she faced both of them in an interview Paola found she had never met two people who were more different in character.

              How anyone couldn’t tell them apart stumped her. Sure, they looked exactly the same but only physically. When it came to their mindset, they seemed to have nothing in common.

***

A blinding light woke her up and her head was pounding. Blinking and rolling on her back, Sasha moaned. What had happened the night before? All she could remember was that she headed to the counter of some bar to order a cocktail. The rest was dark, awfully dark in her throbbing head.

              “Good morning.” A soft voice by her side made her jump and not giving a damn all of a sudden about the light, Sasha opened her eyes. Wide. Anastasia Stea, a well-known and very hot chair umpire was lying next to her. Her shoulders were bare and Sasha felt her face grow hot when she realized that the rest was probably just as naked under the blanket. The umpire burst out laughing seeing the Czech’s look of disbelief, then passed a hand through her hair. She looked relaxed and at ease.

              “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I never do.”

              Never do? How many times had Anastasia found herself in this situation? Sasha shook her head, trying to sweep away the thoughts.

              “What time is it?”

              “Almost 10:30.”

              “In the morning?”

              “Looked like you needed your beauty sleep.” Anastasia laughed kindly.

              “What?” Sasha’s scream probably woke up the whole neighborhood. Looking around she grabbed the first thing which ironically turned out to be an Eastbourne Tournament bath towel, and covered her naked body. She jumped out of bed and frantically began to look around for her clothes.

              “Oh dear, oh dear.”

              “What is going on? Why don’t you relax!”

              Barely casting a glance at Anastasia who was still in bed and whose calmness made Sasha even more fidgety, she sighed and swallowed hard. Sasha was on the verge of crying. She threw an angry glance at the good-looking umpire.

              “I have a match in thirty minutes!”

              “I’m sorry, Sasha. I didn’t know the OOP by heart,” Anastasia said with an apologetic smile.

              “I haven’t even done my warm-up!”

              “Oh yes, you have, sweetie,” Anastasia grinned.

              A shudder ran down Sasha’s spine upon her hearing the umpire’s mischievous insinuation. It made her stop in her tracks, however only for a few seconds. She needed water! She needed a hundred gallons of water! She stumbled into the bathroom and popped her head under the tab. These Gin & Tonics were truly evil, she thought while gulping the ice-cold water. Why did she drink that much? And what about Morgana? Had the little coward left her alone when she had been obviously drunk and so vulnerable? Why had she even been there with Sasha?

              The Czech couldn’t remember. She would have a word or two with her soon. Or not. There was no need to publicize this embarrassing chapter of her life even more.

              “You know where to find me!” Anastasia’s voice followed her as she hurried out of the bedroom with her shoes in hand and ran down the stairs. She had just reached the last step when she violently bumped into someone. Not looking at the person, the Czech simply shook her head and mumbled some incomprehensible apologies. She had to deal with other things right now. Like a match. A tennis match. And a headache. A very ugly headache.

              “Why, good morning, Sasha.”

              Sasha froze and finally bothered to look up at the person standing in front of her. That voice. She could recognize it even in her sleep. It was Lynn Pebblestone.

              “Lynn.” Sasha swallowed. Now it was official. She would never have another Gin & Tonic in her whole life.

Wimbledon, Great Britain

In Wimbledon, most of the players rented apartments or houses in the village around the tournament site, which gave the only Grand Slam played on grass a peculiar, laid-back atmosphere. It was like being at home which made it easier for the players to relax and enjoy their time off court and Wimbledon Village itself was charming and offered several cozy pubs for an evening out.

              For Ted and Tom each morning began with a delicious routine that Tom could easily get addicted to. To the sound of birds tweeting the two lovers woke up in each others’ arms, then Tom locked his eyes with Ted’s before planting a soft kiss on his lips. Yes, Wimbledon definitely had its charms.

              “Good morning,” Ted smiled. It was a matchless day for Ted but he nonetheless had to get up and go to practice soon enough. Perhaps once the tournament was over, they would have some time off to spend together without any tournament schedule to respect. But until then Ted was focused on winning his home slam, leaving Tom to spend time with Ted’s mother Julie.

              When they came down to the dining-room that overlooked a private garden, she was already waiting for them.

              “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, gentlemen,” Ted’s mother stated without looking up from the newspaper.

              Sitting down at the table Tom overlooked a typical English breakfast waiting in front of him. Digging in he almost missed that Ted wasn’t sitting down with them. He had grabbed two sandwiches and had shouldered his racquet bag.

              “You are already leaving?”

              “Back soon,” Ted smiled at Tom, blowing him a kiss through the room before leaving the house. Tom sighed. Soon enough, they would be back in the craziness of hotel rooms and journalists. They wouldn’t have time for these peaceful, quiet moments. He looked at the closed door and swallowed. If he had known that Ted would not have breakfast with them, he would have remained in bed a bit longer.

              “Oh don’t worry, darling. The earlier he leaves for practice, the earlier he will be back. By the way, how about booking a table for you two at some restaurant tonight? I am sure Teddy would appreciate the attention.”

              “I think he mentioned that he has to call Felicia. I’m not sure if he is free tonight, Julie.” Tom didn’t like to admit it but he did sound disappointed.

              “Her.” Julie’s snorted.

              A bit surprised, Tom looked up at her.

              “What is wrong with Felicia?” Tom sure wouldn’t have minded getting her out of the picture altogether but he tried not to interfere with Ted’s arrangement with Felicia. She sure came in handy for Ted. But he wondered why Julie didn’t approve of the fake relationship. She had to be relieved that there were no nasty rumors about Ted and Tom.

              Julie put down the newspaper.

              “The way she treated Amanda was disgusting! Just awful what she did to the poor girl. She is using people as if they were toys. Just look at Amanda now! Heartbroken. Can’t win a match anymore. It’s unforgivable!” She picked up the newspaper again, continuing to read as if nothing had happened. Tom raised an eyebrow. Apparently Julie didn’t know that it had been Ted’s idea to separate Amanda and Felicia, even though he didn’t have to work too hard on persuading the singer.

              But if there was one thing Tom had begun to get used to regarding Julie, it was the way she put passion in all the things she said, as if she was on a crusade. And regarding her own son it wasn’t too surprising for her to go out on a limb and take sides with Amanda. But Tom also knew, this was only a breakfast conversation. She wouldn’t say that in public. Never. But glancing over to Ted’s mother he had to smile. She might be a nuisance at times, but he had begun to like her more and more.

***

Their practice had gone well and the two girls were satisfied when they headed to the locker room.

              “It’s really great that they gave you the Wild Card,” Gabriella said to Elise Renard. “Well, they almost had to, right?” Gabriella grinned at Elise. The German had won the tournament of s’Hertogenbosch and had been granted a Wild Card for the Wimbledon main draw. Having been a quarterfinalist two years ago surely had helped, too. She smiled back at Gabriella.

              “Will you go to the Tennis Nurse Trading Dinner tonight?” Gabriella continued with a whisper. “Morgana told me about it.”

              “Oh, I didn’t even know this existed,” Elise laughed. “Who will be there?”

              “Everybody, I think.”

              Elise hesitated. “No, I don’t think I will go. I have plans for tonight.”

              Gabriella shrugged. “I’m not going either. They will only ask which of the Galloway twins I am. I don’t want the attention.”

              Elise nodded. “Listen, Gabriella,” she started while pushing open the door to the locker room building open. “I didn’t mean to be so rude back then at the players’ party in Melbourne.”

              Since that encounter at the Australian Open players’ party, when Gabriella had approached Elise about the Tennis Nurse novel they hadn’t spoken about the encounter. Gabriella sensed that Elise was sorry that her reaction had been a little harsh. She had brushed off Gabriella and had run out of the bathroom, which had given Gabriella a little shock as it had taken her quite an effort to pluck up the courage and mention Tennis Nurse to Elise. It always involved a jump in at the deep end and you didn’t know how the other would react.

              “You caught me off-guard and at that time I wasn’t really comfortable with talking about the whole thing, you see?” Elise added.

              “Are you comfortable now?” Gabriella took a look inside the locker room but it was empty. They stepped inside.

              “Better, I guess,” Elise answered with a shrug. “I haven’t told my parents though.”

              Gabriella sat down with a sigh. “Family is always the hardest, right? I haven’t even come out to Lulu yet. I don’t know how to do it. She is so straight, you wouldn’t believe it. You and Morgana and two friends at home are the only people who know.”

              “Really?” Elise gave the American a little smile. But she understood Gabriella’s situation. She hadn’t told the people closest to her yet, and she could hardly tell anybody else as it would come to her parents’ ears too quickly in this small world of tennis.

              “I do have to tell my parents,” Elise mumbled, sitting down beside Gaga. “I think I’m in a relationship now and I don’t want to lie to them.”

              “You think?” Gabriella turned her head to Elise and laughed.“With whom?”

              Pulling off her shoes Elise couldn’t help smiling. “Amanda,” she said with a huge grin. “Since Paris.”

              “Congratulations. Amanda is really nice.” Giving the happy German a warm smile, Gabriella wondered if Elise had already been introduced to Amanda’s circle of friends. The Australian was a few years older than Elise and therefore didn’t share a lot of friends with Elise and Gabriella. Gabriella just had the idea that Amanda might know a thing or two about Sasha and maybe had told Elise.

              “Do you know anything about Sasha?”

              “Sasha?”

              Elise was already heading to the shower wrapped in a towel. She turned around and frowned.

              “I mean, do you know if she is into girls,” Gabriella explained. “Lulu said she was hitting on her.”

              “On Lulu? Really?” Elise raised her eyebrow and a thought seemed to cross her mind. But then she just sighed. “I don’t really know Sasha. And I don’t want to, to be honest. Sasha is a player. But not a fair player.”

              She disappeared into the shower and turned the water on.

              Gabriella didn’t know what to make of that rather cryptic answer. She grabbed her towel and headed to the shower herself. Admittedly, she was a bit disappointed that Elise seemed to have a low opinion of Sasha. Gabriella would have liked to talk to her about the Czech’s strange behavior. If Elise had listened Gaga would have even told her about her own mission of imitating Lulu in the locker room before she played Sasha in Paris in order to find out more about Sasha.

              She closed her eyes under the water. Maybe another time. Surely, Elise was just tense because of the upcoming match. Even though the victory in her last tournament had catapulted her to a new ranking and into the Top 70 she still wasn’t high enough to benefit from it in the draw. It was only the third round and Elise had to play against a Top 10 player today.

              Gabriella relaxed in the hot shower. She would only face an unseeded player today, playing for Lulu. And her sister would play for her tomorrow against an unseeded player ranked beyond the Top 100. Life seemed a lot easier once you entered the Top 20. She heard Elise leave the shower and stuck her head out.

              “Good luck against Marieke.”

              Elise turned around and nodded with a smile.

              “Thank you. I will need it.”

***

Taking a look around the Wimbledon Centre Court, Amanda had to acknowledge that it was packed now. There were almost no empty seats left. The battle down on the court had left the spectators breathless at times. It was high quality tennis and the drama continued. After narrowly losing the first set 4-6, Elise had battled to even the match. She had led by four games to one in the second set, but Marieke Bender, the favorite, had fought back rigorously. She was able to level at five games all, suddenly having all the momentum again. Sitting high in the stands with Dan Metic, her coach, Amanda had feared that this would be the end of a very entertaining match.

              But she had underestimated Elise. The more opposition she faced, the better the German girl became. She had pulled herself together and had broken Marieke Bender and then served out the set. The third set also promised to be a very close affair.

              The scoreboard said 3-3. Elise was serving.

              “So, you are feeling good about it?” Dan leaned back and glanced over at his player.

              “Yes, I think so,” Amanda sighed. “Not that it’s helping with my game though.”

              In the singles competition Amanda had disgracefully lost in the second round of the Wimbledon championships a day before. Consequently there was only playing doubles left for her. Of course, she played with Elise.

              “Well, we have talked about it. Let’s move on and work on a few things,” Dan said with a calm voice.

              “It’s all a bit much at the moment,” Amanda shrugged. Sure, she was happy and it was wonderful to spend time with Elise, but some things were bothering her nevertheless. She turned around to Dan, who was concentrating on the match again.
              “She’s so young,” Amanda blurted out. “And her parents are always around. They are nice, but they don’t know about us and so it’s terribly awkward all the time. “

              “Well, give her some time. You know, it’s not easy.”

              “Yeah, I know,” Amanda shook her head. “It’s just difficult the way it is. I’m not used to keeping it a secret from people as close as your own team.” Having been on the tour since she was sixteen and having travelled with her coach and team, Amanda had never been in the situation where she lied about a relationship to her parents, who were at home. She knew Elise didn’t feel good about sneaking out in the evenings, telling her mom and her dad she met friends while she went out with Amanda.

              “I don’t think she will tell them any time soon either and it’s not making it easier for me to settle into this relationship.”

              “You don’t trust that she really means it?” Dan seemed truly surprised but that was in fact a worry that bothered Amanda deep down inside, even though Elise’s behavior gave no cause for concern.

              ”I don’t know. She is still so young,” Amanda mumbled. “And I don’t want to get hurt again.”

              “That’s probably more likely the reason for your worries than her age, isn’t it?”

              Dan was right. Like a faithful dog, Amanda had too often settled down in a relationship in blind loyalty. Her last effort to build a relationship with Felicia had crashed rather unceremoniously and even though all was going well with Elise deep down she feared another humiliation. With a little sigh, Amanda shrugged and promised herself to take it slowly with Elise.

              She looked down at the court again and realized she had missed two whole games. Marieke Bender was leading five games to three. Obviously the Dutch player had broken Elise in her last service game and held for her own. Elise would have to serve to stay in the match. Amanda felt her hands grow sweaty. How she hated serving to stay in a match. It was the worst-case scenario. She clenched her fists and leaned her chin on them. Sending down silent prayers to the court, she watched her girl serve.

              After a couple of shots, Marieke hit a short ball and with the court wide open in front of her Elise rushed to the net, but – to the disbelief of the crowd – dumped her forehand drop-volley into the net. Up in the stands, Amanda could hear her yell of frustration. The next two points were decided on Marieke’s racquet. First she hit a backhand long for 15 all, then she returned a good serve with a ripping forehand winner down the line. Bender was only two points away from winning the match. Elise served a fast-paced shot and Marieke was barely able to return it. It fell down short into the front of the court. Again Elise rushed forward ready to hit it hard into the open court in front of her like she had done many times before in the match. It was a sure point for Elise, but instead she netted the ball. A murmur of disappointment rolled over the Centre Court stands.

              “15 – 40,” Anastasia Stea, the chair umpire announced.

              Elise had made two critical mistakes in this game and had handed the Dutch player two match points. Amanda leaned back, breathed in deeply and tried to relax. Elise had cheered her up after her loss yesterday, so she would do the same for Elise. They still had doubles.

***

It had been an amazing match so far but now Marieke Bender, the experienced Grand Slam champion had two match points on Elise Renard’s serve. Samantha Watts looked out the little window of the commentary box and suppressed a little sigh. Every match had to have a winner in the end and this looked like a sure bet for Marieke now. Elise Renard, as much as she had demonstrated her skills in the last one and a half hours, was still on her way back and who wouldn’t understand that she was faltering in such an important match?

              She watched Elise walking slowly back to the baseline. These moments defined a tennis player, she knew. Staring into the abyss. Ironically, it wasn’t shown on the TV screen. The editor had chosen the camera that showed Marieke Bender.

              “And here is the four-time Grand Slam champion with two match points,” Hugh continued commenting. The camera switched to Elise finally. She had taken three balls from the ball boy. “The German is taking as much time as possible to gather her nerves. It has been a great match, but it might very well be her last moments on Centre Court, at least for this year.”

              Elise exhaled with a little gust to animate herself. It went unnoticed by Hugh, but Sam could sympathize with the young German player. Sometimes she missed the sheer unbelievable tension of these situations every player experienced once in a while when they were only inches away from failure. Stepping to the baseline Elise let the ball bounce a few times. The crowd had turned quiet.

              Up went the ball into the air and as if there were no match points to save the racquet hit the ball ruthlessly and perfectly, sending it deep into Marieke’s service box. The Dutch girl was unable to return the ball and it landed in the net. The crowd cheered with relief. No one wanted this to end.

              “That’s one way to save a match point,” Sam said succinctly.

              “A 122 mile per hour serve.” Hugh was impressed.

              “30 – 40″, Anastasia announced, while Elise walked to the other side of the baseline.

              Elise’s deep first serve went down the middle and again it forced a floater from Marieke’s racquet which landed in the net. The crowd was cheering wildly now, seeing the digits appearing on the radar gun. 120 mph. She had saved both match points with incredibly fast serves. On the other side of the net, Marieke Bender swallowed hard but had to accept the facts.

              “What a formidable display of gutsiness from the German,” Hugh cheered.

              “The serves have been incredible,” Sam admitted with a smile.

              “The truth is, in moments like these the serve is often the first thing to go for lesser players. It’s great to see.”

              What followed sent the crowd rising to their feet. A pin-point lightning-speed ace down the T gave Elise the advantage, and for another time the chalk on the center line flew up. With four remarkable serves Elise had won the game. She clenched her fist while walking to her chair.

              The next games showed that the tide had turned. Twice Marieke Bender tried to serve out the match and twice she was broken by the revived German. The Dutch player’s game had become inaccurate and nervous. At six games all Elise held for her own service game and suddenly it was Bender who had to serve to stay in the match.

              “Bender has clearly lost the range on her forehand,” Sam observed when Marieke hit a forehand wide. The Centre Court crowd once again cheered before falling into respectful silence. Now it was Elise’s turn for a match point.

              “What a moment for the German, who fought so hard to get back from injury,” Hugh whispered excitedly.

              After a lengthy rally Bender finally hit a down-the-line forehand wide and before the linesperson could call the ball out, a thunderous roar of surprise and delight went through the stands. A young German who was only here on a Wild Card had achieved an incredible upset.

              “Renard is dropping to her knees in delight and disbelief,” Hugh said emotionally.

              “You can see how much it means to her,” Sam agreed. She watched Elise sitting down on her chair, and while the magnitude of her achievement seemed to sink in she was smiling up to the box where her parents cheered for her. Sam switched off her microphone.

              “What a match,” she said to Hugh who was nodding. Sam watched the German with sympathy. Elise finally got up and left the stadium waving to the crowd who gave her a standing ovation. Another feeling was creeping into Sam’s chest. Envy. How much would she give to experience a victory on the Wimbledon Centre Court again! There was nothing greater for a tennis player.

***

It had been only three hours since Elise had won her match against Marieke Bender but she felt refreshed and ready to enjoy the night out with Amanda. Well, ‘night’ was maybe a bit of an exaggeration, Elise thought while walking through Wimbledon Village, Amanda by her side. They wouldn’t stay up very long as they had their doubles match tomorrow and needed to get up early for a joint practice. They had first opted for an evening in at Amanda’s place but had been hassled so long by Natsumi and Monica to join them at the Dog & Fox for a Pimm’s until they had said yes.

              “They want to inspect my new girlfriend,” Amanda grinned. “Also, they want to be seen with you.”

              That was an overstatement, as Elise so far had had none of the success of Natsumi Takashima, who had been a Top 20 player for almost five years now or Monica Jordan, who was a former No. 1 player. But it was true. Her fight back from being match points down and her eventual win had been the talk of the village for the last few hours. More pleasing, however, was the fact that apparently Amanda had made the relationship official and had told her friends about Elise. ‘My new girlfriend’ sounded wonderful in Elise’s ear.

              When they entered the High Street they could already see a cheerful crowd in front of the pub. Amanda and Elise stopped at the junction on the other side of the street and waited for the traffic to stop.

              “Do you know what Renard means?” Elise asked Amanda while looking over to the restaurant. Amanda was surprised by the sudden question about Elise’s family name.

              “You know, I love all things French. But the language?” Amanda shook her head and grinned apologetically.

              “It means fox,” Elise revealed the answer. She let a car pass and began crossing the street. Amanda, however, was flabbergasted. Fox? Only this afternoon Amanda had admitted to herself that her own behavior reminded her of a dog’s. A faithful and devoted dog that had been slapped in the face so many times. And here she was in front of the Dog & Fox with Elise Renard, whose name meant fox. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

              “Wait,” Amanda shouted.

              Elise turned around, surprised that Amanda was still standing on the curb. Amanda sprinted to the middle of the street.

              “Let’s take a picture of us with the name.” She took out her cell phone and they stuck their heads together and took the picture with the Dog & Fox label behind them while honking cars were passing by them. Just when the phone made the artificial snap sound of a camera, Elise quickly turned her head and gave Amanda a little peck on the cheek.

              “Are we a bit jaunty after knocking out tennis superstars?” Amanda grinned. She looked around but to her relief none of the patrons in front of the pub had seen the kiss.

              The Dog & Fox was crowded. Looking out for Natsumi and Monica they approached the counter when suddenly their names were called out behind them along with loud cheering. Natsumi and Monica had taken a table in the back of the pub. Also sitting at the table were Antonia Sapore, Martina Rodriguez, Agnes and Candice – doing the wave around the table beckoning to Elise and Amanda.

              “Dear me! How childish can you get?” Amanda shook her head and made her way through the tables. Other people recognized Elise and Amanda as they made their way over to the loud table and raised their glasses to Elise, congratulating and applauding her on her fantastic win. They sat down and for a while the conversation between the girls was also about the match.

              “You served like a boss,” raved an enthusiastic Natsumi. Everyone at the table nodded.

              “Yes, phenomenal, Elise.” Agnes gave her young friend a pat on the shoulder. Amanda proudly grinned at Elise who blushed. The German wouldn’t say much but Amanda could tell that she enjoyed the praise. She knew that after such a long drought period the attention was like a warm whirlwind surrounding her.

              Dinner was served and after eating Elise leaned back and under the table she reached out with her hand to touch Amanda’s. It was a public place, but instead of pushing Elise’s hand away Amanda took hold of it. They sat with their backs to the wall and with their friends all placed around the table their hands were shielded from curious eyes. After a while, Amanda even dared to lean against Elise.

              “Do foxes like dogs?” Amanda whispered into the German’s ear. Elise slightly turned her head amused by the question. She looked at Amanda and then she smiled.

              “Yes, dogs and foxes are very similar animals,” she whispered back. “But there is one fox who is a bit odd. I heard, this one only likes red-haired dogs.”

              They grinned at each other lost in their moment, until their friends’ snorts and snickers brought them back.

***

The Eastbourne incident had been fate. For a short moment Sasha had lost control over her life. Just thinking about it made her shudder. She had gotten drunk the night before a match, she had lost her memory of the time with Anastasia Stea, the chair umpire, with whom she had spent the night in Eastbourne, and she had failed miserably the next morning losing her match in straight sets.

              But she had learned her lesson. As soon as she had arrived in Wimbledon, she had come up with a prudent plan. Today she had finally called it quits with Morgana. The French player had looked a bit disappointed but after mumbling something in Moliere’s language, she had simply shrugged and nodded in defeat. Moreover, she never mentioned the afternoon in Brighton, which was a relief. Morgana had obviously left the scene at the bar before the Czech had made her move on Anastasia Stea. Yes, it was time to turn the page concerning her Galloway obsession. After all, Sasha concluded, it would be better for her tennis. This was Wimbledon and it was time for her to be crowned one more time on the British grass. She could do it, she knew it. No injuries, nothing to worry about except perhaps the occasional sassy wink from Anastasia. But the Czech player saw that as a useful reminder of the life of debauchery she had lived the past few weeks. It wouldn’t happen again. Good-bye cocktails and endless wondering about the twins’ sexuality and their mysterious dealings.

              Sasha knew the most important part of this story already. Lulu and Gaga switched matches which was a detail that came in handy. With her exclusive knowledge she was able to adapt more quickly to their game, even though in the past few matches it seemed to have been Gabriella who had taken the court with Sasha, because Luella didn’t play against her anymore.

              Sasha once again began to wonder why. Had it to do with Luella’s unashamed sexual advances in the locker room? Something was still bothering her about the Galloways and she couldn’t say what exactly. Sasha shook her head.

              “No, no,” she scolded herself. “No more Galloway mystery no more.”

              She needed fresh air and some peace of mind to sweep away all the things that had happened to her lately. It was time to take control of her life again. Her next match was tomorrow, so after finishing lunch with her team, Sasha put on her sunglasses and her hat and went out for a little walk through the streets of Wimbledon.

              The streets were busy but no one recognized her. Most people couldn’t imagine that a great player like her would just walk down the street like everyone else. She smiled at their naivety. She was just turning around the corner of the main square, looking down at her feet, when she bumped into someone. The unexpected contact made her scream.

              “Oh dear, I am sorry.”

              It was that photographer again. Tom. He, of course, had recognized her. Why did he seem to pop up behind every corner, she wondered. Hoping he wouldn’t make a fuss and blow her cover, she lowered her eyes and noticed that he was holding a camera. He followed her glance.

              “I’m taking pictures! Beautiful place, isn’t it?”

              Raising an eyebrow, Sasha shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood to start a conversation with Tom.

              “Good luck in the tournament. You are doing great so far.”

              Without saying a word, the Czech player nodded briefly and left, still a bit confused by the encounter.

***

As soon as the door of the locker room was closed, Elise turned around to Amanda with a little jump and planted a big smooch on the Australian’s mouth. Amanda was amazed by the German’s lack of concern. One day, she feared, Elise would kiss her while on the court, just because she seemed to be completely head over heels and might forget about the consequences. To witness the exuberant carelessness was nevertheless terribly sweet, and Amanda pushed her worries away and kissed Elise back before bursting into cheerful laughter. They both had good reason to be happy.

              They had just knocked out one of the top seeded doubles pairings in straight sets and would now move on to the third round. After Elise’s incredible win against Marieke Bender she was the talk of the town and she and Amanda had stayed more than fifteen minutes on court after the match finished to sign autographs and take pictures with their fans. Their opponents had already left the locker room before Elise and Amanda made their way back, and with a men’s match scheduled next on court the ladies’ locker room was empty and undisturbed for the moment.

              They embraced again in the silent room. It was the first time since they had arrived in London that they were truly on their own. One evening Elise had come over to Amanda’s house which she shared with Dan and his family, and even though they had retreated to Amanda’s room nothing had happened but some fooling around. Amanda had told herself it was for the better. Let’s take it slow, she had reminded herself. No need to rush things, especially since she still felt a nagging insecurity about the relationship.

              On the other hand, it had been months since her last time with Felicia and Elise herself had become more audacious. The German’s kisses had grown more daring in the last few days, exploring beyond Amanda’s lips and tongue, and she was now going over the sensitive skin on her throat to the fine hairs of her neck. Perhaps she should just give it a go? Elise’s skin was soft and tasted salty.

              “Let’s get you out of these sweaty clothes,” Amanda whispered while slowly pulling up Elise’s shirt. They agreed tacitly to move closer to the showers, with every step taking off another part of each others’ clothes, until they were both standing in the cubicle. In the darkness of the tiled walls they took off their remaining underpants, then paused within inches of each other to let the short moment of bashfulness pass by while they looked each other over, naked and pale. Amanda turned on the water and as soon as it was warm enough they stepped under it and began to cover each other with wet kisses, each taking in the prodigious sensation created by their bodies fully touching for the first time.

              With growing desire, Amanda threw her good intentions overboard and slowly pushed Elise against the wall. Still embracing Elise so that her back wouldn’t touch the cold tiles she moved her lips over Elise’s shoulders while her leg moved against Elise’s groin. With Elise’s breathing growing heavier and the water gushing onto her head, Amanda felt like a storm was rising. Elise had opened her mouth and every time she exhaled she let out a little sigh.

              Amanda pulled the moaning girl closer and grabbed her hips while moving her mouth over her breasts and slowly making her way down her whole body. Elise breathed even faster and grabbing Amanda’s hair, the German pushed Amanda’s head even further down.

              But suddenly she stopped, gasping for air.

              “Wait,” she spluttered. “Wait.” She straightened her body and began to slowly shake out her hands.

              “What’s up?” Amanda had taken a step back.

              “They’ve grown numb,” Elise answered, still holding her hands out and trying to shake the blood back into her arms. Amanda couldn’t help but grin compassionately. Amazing, what a little bit of high-performance romancing could do.

              “Let’s wake them up again,” she grinned turning on the cold water tap.

              When the cold jet of water hit her, Elise let out a loud yell but then held her hands in the refreshing stream. As if someone had stopped a record by badly scratching the needle over the vinyl Amanda’s desire had been washed away down the drain. She stepped out of the shower and looked for towels. The storm had passed by them and the water was just running regularly now. She threw a towel over her naked body and after wrapping Elise in the other towel, Amanda sat her down on the bench and tenderly rubbed her arms with lotion until Elise nodded that she felt better. With a sheepish smile Amanda sat down next to Elise still holding her hands. Sensing Elise’s disappointment and embarrassment over their failed lustful attempt, she turned her head to the German and looked her in the eyes.

              “Let’s not rush this,” Amanda said. She put her arm around Elise and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “We have all the time in the world.”

              Because suddenly she knew that they did.

***

“How could you do that to me? I can’t believe it!” Gabriella slammed the door of their Wimbledon apartment and crossed her arms on her chest while frowning at her sister. She was furiously staring at Luella.

              “I didn’t do it on purpose, sweetie.” Luella bit her lower lip reaching out her hands to apologize but her sister pushed her away.

              “No, of course not,” Gabriella shouted. “You just forgot about the game plan, about the strategy we talked about the whole evening yesterday. Most of all, you forgot to hit winners.”

              Luella made a step backwards, suddenly a bit scared.

              “I suppose it has to do with your nightly activities again?” Gabriella added coolly. “Tell me who insisted playing my match? You! That was a qualifier, Luella.” Gaga shook her head in anger. She was out of her favorite tournament. Not only that. She would slump by at least two ranking spots depending on how some other Top 20 players did. Gabriella knew that Lulu had been adamant about playing her match because she knew it would be easier than her own match. But Luella had screwed up and she deserved to be told over and over again.

              “Sweetie – ” Luella started again.

              “Don’t call me sweetie! I’m fed up with your sweetie! You should concentrate on tennis and practice a lot more so these things won’t happen anymore.”

              “Oh, Gaga,” Luella snorted. “You’re just jealous. I’m still the better player of the two of us. So if there’s someone here who should go back on court and practice then it’s you. I’m still ahead of you in the rankings, in case you forgot.”

              Gabriella gasped. “I pushed up your ranking. It was me who won the important matches and you know it,” Gabriella said suppressing her anger. “But you can’t even admit it. It’s time for you to question your commitment, Lu!”

              “My commitment?”Luella’s body had grown stiff. She looked at her sister with blatant animosity. “Just because you won one lousy tournament doesn’t mean you are the better player. You lost playing for me in the past and did I say a word? No. See? You’re such a whining wimp right now.”

              Gabriella snorted in disgust, opened her mouth to reply but remained silent for a few seconds. This was it. Lulu would never understand. It was time to make up her mind.

              “I’m a wimp? Then let me tell you something. I’m out.” Gabriella could hardly believe what she was saying to her twin sister. But the words spluttered out of her mouth. “From now on, I will play all my matches and you will play all your matches and I don’t care who is on the other side of the net. Then we’ll see if you have the maturity that it takes. The maturity and the talent, that is.”

              And without saying another word, Gabriella left the house.

Wimbledon, Great Britain

“What the hell are you thinking?” Ted stared at Tom in disbelief.
              “I believe it’s the right thing to do,” Tom countered self-assuredly.

              “No, Tom,” Ted yelled. “It’s not. These are peoples’ lives you are playing with. You cannot do this!”

              Tom shook his head in disagreement, however, made a step forward and reached out his hands in reconciliation.

              “I believe that I can change the lives of all of us for the better,” he said calmly to his boyfriend. But his amiable tone just sparked Ted’s fury even more.

              “Are you fucking gay Jesus now? You must be mad. Absolutely mad!”

              With a leap Ted stormed to the bedroom door and pulled it open. He turned around and seeing the fury and disappointment – and maybe sadness – in Ted’s eyes made Tom’s heart slump.

              “When I come back,” Ted said with thin lips, “I want you to be gone.”

              He slipped out and closed the door. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed. Clearly this had been a terrible idea. He should have never told Ted about his blog and how he had finally come to envision it now. Or maybe the blog was a terrible idea? No, no. He shook his head. He was right. It was a wonderful idea, but he should have known that Ted would disapprove of it. After all, it would affect him, too.

              Tom perhaps should have waited another week before telling Ted. Perhaps only after he had published the first article on his blog and there was no turning back. Ted had been cranky since he had lost in the semifinal yesterday and, of course, the prospect of being forced out of the closet by his own lover could not cheer him up. Annoyed by his own myopia Tom got up and sat down at the desk.

              The screen of his laptop displayed the words he had so proudly read aloud only a couple of minutes ago. He had spent hours polishing and tweaking the text until the words had seemed perfectly right. Now, they seemed merely a black on white proof of his own utopian convictions. Again he went through the arguments he had written down. They were deliberate and well-thought-out. In no way had he pointed out a single player or given any names.

              But he had to admit that his article had the power to make a lot of people uncomfortable. It brought attention to a subject that was handled as a taboo, especially for the male players. Giving a precise and unadorned insight into the hardship and efforts of gay and lesbian players to keep their private life undisturbed by the media might bring exactly the attention they were all so keen to avoid. Tom clenched his teeth and logged onto his blog 30 Love.

              Remembering how he found the name for his website almost made him cry. Was it over between him and Ted? It looked like Ted was serious. But Tom was serious about this, too. And one day, he hoped, Ted would understand. He pasted the article into the blog and went over it for the last time. It was a good first article and it was only the beginning. He would feed the readers with little tidbits and behind-the-scenes information but would not give any names. Not until he had evidence of each and every gay and lesbian player currently ranked in the Top 20. Once he had gained all the evidence he needed, he would announce the sexual orientation of all the players and make it public with one single blow. It would not be a case of one player being singled out to be tarred and feathered, but instead the media would be completely overwhelmed by the number of players and the players themselves wouldn’t be alone. In the end they would have to stick together and weather the storm side by side.

              It was a congenial idea and he knew it. He also knew he was playing with other people’s lives. Tom looked at his words a last time and then pressed PUBLISH.

***

“Why should I do that for you?” Gabriella Galloway looked at her sister and shook her head. “You can do it yourself. You’ve proven you can play good tennis.”

              She and Lulu were sitting on the veranda of the players’ restaurant overlooking the Wimbledon site, both staring into their tea cups.

              “Yes,” mumbled Luella. “But not against Sasha.”

              Gabriella was about to get impatient. Since their dispute last week, after Lulu had lost Gabriella’s match they had not talked about switching matches again. Gaga thought she had made it clear to her sister that this was over.

              Being out of the tournament, Gaga had functioned as Luella’s hitting partner and they had achieved modest success in the doubles competition by reaching the third round. That had been Gaga’s last match in Wimbledon and that was exactly a week ago. Lulu had done well. She had had easy opponents in the early rounds but had managed to oust Tamara Parova in the quarterfinal and Yelena Kovalenko in the semifinal. Against all odds, here she was in her very first Grand Slam final. Even Gaga was impressed by her twin sister. Suddenly it seemed Lulu could put it all together once she could no longer rely on Gabriella stepping in for her.

              Why would she now ask Gabriella to play against Sasha? True, Gaga had the better head to head against the Czech player, but she hadn’t played competitively for one week. This could be a disadvantage.

              “I told you, I wouldn’t play for you again.”

              “Yes, that’s what you told me.”

              Luella poured more and more sugar into her tea cup. By now, the infusion must have become undrinkable.

              “You played really well the whole week. You can do it.”

              Lulu looked up and gave Gaga a little smile.

              “That’s nice of you to say.” Lulu sighed. “I would have preferred Elise though.”

              “I don’t know if Elise would have been the easier task,” Gabriella said thinking about her friend and had to smile a bit. Elise had had an incredible run in Wimbledon. She had become the overnight sensation with the newspapers already forecasting a Grand Slam win with a Wild Card entry. Not only had Elise reached the quarterfinal before falling short against the more experienced Sasha Mrachova, the German had reached the doubles final with Amanda Auster which was played right after the ladies’ singles final. Gabriella smiled, as there were already jokes being told in the locker rooms about Elise and Amanda, that love for sure was a great performance enhancer.

              Luella had been silent for a while, but finally she looked up and opened her mouth.

              “Listen, Gaga,” she said meekly, “I’m sorry about what I said last week. I know I’m not the better player. I know you did a lot more for my ranking than I did for yours. I know I messed up your Wimbledon. Please play for me.”

              Dumbfounded, Gabriella watched her sister. Never before in their lives had Luella been so humble.

              “Why?” Gaga leaned back, still watching her sister. She knew how hard it was for Luella to show her affection.

              “Because I know, that I cannot beat Sasha. She’s in my head,” Luella finally said. Gabriella almost had to laugh. She’s in my head, too, she wanted to tell Lulu. “And because you are my sister and –,” Lulu stumbled. She took a deep breath and then looked up to meet Gabriella’s eyes. “And because I love you a thousand times more than I could ever love Rafael.”

              Gabriella swallowed. She knew Lulu was honest and in this moment she understood how much her sister’s love meant to her. Many thoughts rushed through her head at once. Would Lulu still love her if she revealed her interest in girls? Would she ever be able to do that? Why was the thought of playing against Sasha so intriguing and confusing at the same time? Could she even imagine holding up that trophy?

“Please, play the final for me,” Luella asked again. “Please, play it for us.”

              Pushing all these images away she sat up straight in her chair.
              “Ok, I will do it,” Gabriella said with a clear voice. “I will play the final. For us.”

***

This was clever, Sasha had to admit when she sat down on her chair on Centre Court. Very clever. She had observed the Galloways during the last few days, telling herself that she was not giving in to her previous obsession with the twins but was preparing for the possibility that she had to face Luella Galloway in the final. And now the day had come.

              Here she was in another Grand Slam final and here was the Galloway on the other side of the net, in her very first Grand Slam final. But it wasn’t Luella as the scoreboard suggested. It was Gaga. To be honest, it had surprised her a bit that it wasn’t Luella who played. The loudmouthed Galloway twin had stunned the crowd during the last week and had silenced her critics. She was hitting the ball in terrific fashion the whole week. Why not today? It had to have been their overall plan, Sasha concluded, that Gabriella would go out early in the tournament to save her energy while Luella played the early rounds. Yes, that was clever. While Sasha had battled new wunderkind Elise Renard in three long sets in the quarterfinal and then defeated Tamara Parova in the semifinal, Gabriella was fresh as a wild flower.

              Her superiority in energy and movement showed. Gabriella Galloway had taken a 5 – 2 lead in the first set and would now serve for the set.

              With a well-placed wide serve Gaga forced Sasha to step far out. The Czech managed to get the serve back but it was rigorously punished by the American player.

              “15 – Love.”

              After two lengthy rallies which stunned the crowd and were both decided by pin-point down-the-line winners, Sasha had taken the lead again.

              “15 – 30.”

              But Gabriella would not give up. After Sasha’s forehand return clipped the netcord and fell short into the court, Gabriella sprinted forwards and slammed the ball for a winner. Her next short-angled serve forced Sasha to hit a forehand return outside the lines.

              “40-30.” Gabriella had a set point.

              Most of the players the Czech had beaten in finals were merely playing not to lose when playing against her – and not playing to win. Most of them would have said there was no difference. But Sasha knew that was not true. The harder you fought and the more engrossed you became in the fight the more it hurt if you lost. That was the reason some players didn’t give it their all. But today she had a different opponent. Sasha felt that the young player on the other side of the net was suddenly willing to take the title.

              With a scorching forehand deep into the corner Gabriella decided the game in her favor.

              When Sasha sat down on her chair, she looked up to her box. Jaro was nodding in support, as was her coach. A little to the left sat Gabriella’s entourage. There was the new coach, Rafael, the fitness trainer and several other people. Next to Rafael was the other Galloway twin. Luella, whose name was below Sasha’s own on the scoreboard. She looked pleased.

              Suddenly, an idea struck Sasha. If Gabriella won against her, she would win in her sister’s name. She would win a Grand Slam and would never be able to claim victory for herself. Her achievement, her fight would go unnoticed. It wouldn’t be her name on the trophy, not her name announced and not her name going down in history, but Luella’s, who was sitting calmly in the player’s box. It would be Luella’s name forever engraved in tennis history. Through the umpire’s chair Sasha glanced over to the other player. Why would anyone do this, she wondered? Sharing everything with another person. Your whole life. Your passion. She shook her head. No, she couldn’t do that. Not with a sister nor a partner. She was a lone wolf.

              “Time.”

              Sasha heard the words as if she was under water. Walking back to the baseline to begin the second set she wondered if it was her destiny to stay alone for the rest of her life.

***

The players’ lounge was almost empty on finals’ day. Elise was sitting with her parents at one of the tables near the window and looked out onto the Wimbledon site. Her grass season had been amazing so far. Not only had she won s’Hertogenbosch, the first tournament since she had come back from injury, she had been granted a Wild Card into Wimbledon’s main draw and had reached the quarterfinal in the singles competition. In doubles, she and Amanda would play the final today against their good friends Monica Jordan and Agnes Lion. It was incredible, she contemplated. Sure, she had worked hard in the past months and she had gotten better and better since Indian Wells, but deep down she knew that her recent success was related to the joy she felt every morning she woke up and her first thoughts went straight to the Australian girl who was lying in a bed only two streets away. Her happiness had carried her all the way to the final days of the tournament.

              Hearing Dan Metic’s voice behind her, Elise turned away from the window. Her father greeted Dan and Amanda and the two sat down at the table. Elise gave Amanda a huge smile, however, the Australian only nodded in a friendly way. Due to Elise’s situation they had to keep on pretending they were only a doubles team. Elise bit her lip and glanced at her parents. They hadn’t noticed her smile nor her slight embarrassment which always settled in after she caught herself going gooey-eyed over Amanda. Elise sighed. Amanda was really good at playing this game. They would come out of the locker room after a match to be greeted and congratulated by their teams, and no one could tell by Amanda’s face that only seconds ago they had kissed passionately. Elise herself wasn’t that cool. She always feared that her admiration and desire was evident for everyone to see.

              After the failed attempt to get it on in the shower they had laughed about it, and there was no denying that it made Elise feel better when Amanda told her they had as much time as needed. But since then Amanda had not approached her again and Elise was too shy to come forward with her own desire. Looking over at the redhead at the other end of the table, Elise wondered how willing Amanda was to engage in a relationship with Elise. When she had confessed to Amanda that she was only out to a handful of people she had seen the Australian swallow and had understood that she was asking a lot of her new girlfriend. Even though Amanda kept her private life away from the spotlight she didn’t have to lie about it to her family and her team.

              After the quarterfinal Elise’s parents had invited Amanda over for dinner and even though it had been a nice evening, it had also been very awkward for both of them. Did Amanda think this was just a phase for Elise or just a little experiment? She couldn’t have been more wrong if that was the case, but Elise hadn’t had the courage yet to address her concerns. However, she knew what to do. She had to tell her parents. She needed to do it anyway. She really wanted to. It was becoming an unbearable situation, finding excuses when she wanted to be with Amanda alone or circumvent their harmless questions about the evenings she spent over at Amanda’s place. She took a look at the TV that broadcasted the ladies’ final. Sasha had taken the second set after she had lost the first, but was trailing in the third set. Luella Galloway was about to finish her great run with her first Grand Slam victory.

              “This will not take much longer,” Elise said to her parents and Amanda. “I think we should get ready.”

              She got up and nodded at Amanda while suppressing a smile. Ignoring Dan’s raised eyebrow and her parents’ surprise at the hasty departure she pushed Amanda through the door outside. She just wanted a few minutes alone with Amanda. Just a few minutes when they could kiss and whisper foolish things into each others’ ears.

                            Slipping into the locker room Elise turned around to Amanda and kissed her slightly on the lips. An idea had formed in her head, and she knew she needed all her courage to make it happen.

***

The metal had been cool and the whole dish had been amazingly heavy. Heavier than she had imagined, Gabriella thought.

              Her hands were sweating –from the exhaustion of the match or from excitement she couldn’t say – and the ridiculous thought that the Venus Rosewater dish would slip from her hands while holding it over her head and fall onto her toes had occupied her mind during the whole ceremony. It didn’t happen. Everything went well.

              “Luella Galloway,” the tournament director had announced.

              When she had heard her sister’s name she hadn’t cared about it, but now, sitting in the silent locker room, the numbness which had occupied her brain from the second that Sasha had hit that last ball outside the lines let go of her little grey cells. This was just another locker room, after just another match. But everything was different. She had won a Grand Slam final. She was a Grand Slam winner. And yet, she wasn’t. Luella just won a Grand Slam. She was a Grand Slam winner. And she deserved it, Gabriella thought. Lulu had played four out of the seven matches, and Gabriella only three.

              But the last one was the most important. They both knew it. Luella had only won one final of an international tournament last year, while Gabriella had won two internationals already plus Indian Wells, a premier event only a few months ago. Gabriella was not just the more consistent player, she had better nerves and was able to stay calm during the big points. She was able to close out a match. That was the reason why Luella had begged Gaga to play the Wimbledon final for her. Her sister had been scared of faltering in the important moments.

              Sitting on the bench, Gabriella could suddenly see it crystal clear before her eyes. Luella giving the post-match interview, Luella in the talk shows back home in the United States, Luella dancing at the Winners Ball. She swallowed hard and almost choked when the locker room door was opened with a bang.

              “I must have left it in my locker,” Gaga heard Sasha’s voice saying to someone outside. The door closed again and there were only Sasha’s footsteps closing in. Unaware that the room wasn’t empty Sasha stepped around the corner. Gabriella looked up at her opponent and now Wimbledon runner-up.

              “Oh,” Sasha exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were still in here.”

              Gabriella shrugged and gave Sasha a smile. But only a very quick one, since she was supposed to be Luella. A moment of silence followed which made Gabriella think of the hilarious and awkward moment when she had found Sasha in one of the lockers but had not said a word to Luella about it. All the past moments she had had with Sasha had been awkward and hilarious in a way. Sasha's spying on the twins – well, on Lulu – was followed by Gabriella’s shameless advances in Paris when she had hit on Sasha pretending she was Luella. However, Sasha had never lowered her guard. It seemed they were both revolving around each other unable to come forward with honest words. Sometimes Gaga caught herself wondering if they would like each other, if they could get along, maybe even more. Gabriella would have liked to talk to Elise about Sasha, because, yes, she believed she could like Sasha, but Elise didn’t like her. Perhaps it could have been very easy, if the Czech wasn’t so obsessed with her sister.

              Sasha opened a locker in front of Gaga and took out a pair of shoes she apparently had forgotten. She was about to leave without a word, but then paused and turned around.

              “I know your little secret,” she said with a sly smile.

              They locked eyes for a short moment in which Gabriella grew first hot then ice-cold, before Sasha turned away and walked out of the room.

              Her little secret? How could Sasha know that? Gabriella clutched the edge of the bench. Nobody knew. But then she gasped. She had forgotten that she was Lulu right now. Sasha had talked to her as Lulu. Which secret did Sasha mean?

***

Through the endless corridors from somewhere inside the hotel came the dampened sound of music. The Wimbledon Winners Ball in the posh Intercontinental Hotel was in full swing but Elise and Amanda had found a better occupation. They were lying on a couch at the end of a long corridor where they had ended up after Elise had led them through the hotel corridors, talking about the upcoming weeks when they would be apart. At one point they had begun to hold hands as the corridor seemed completely empty. They had sat down in the sofa corner, which was dimly lit, but by now were spread out with their arms and legs intertwined.

              Tipsy from the booze Amanda was kissing the German without rushing. In the last week, she had gained more and more confidence that the relationship was not just some experiment for Elise. Yesterday had proven to be another good day. Even though they had lost the doubles final to Monica and Agnes they had decided to go to dinner and afterwards had retreated to Amanda’s room to watch a DVD. Needless to say, neither of them could recall anything from the storyline. At one point, Elise had sat up on the bed and had taken her cell phone from her bag. She was typing a message and when Amanda looked curiously over her shoulder Elise showed her the text. It was to her mom and said: At Amanda’s place watching a movie. Don’t know when I will be home. Might stay overnight.

              She did. Even though they were only fooling around with not much more happening it made Amanda feel much better. It was definitely a step in the right direction. After Elise had fallen asleep in Amanda’s arms the Australian had watched the girl knowing it was the right decision not to hurry. Not only because Amanda herself felt better taking it slowly but she had become convinced that Elise had never had slept with a girl before. Thinking back to the scene in the shower when Elise’s hands had grown numb she felt a bit guilty for going for it so vehemently and quickly.

              Lying on the hotel couch Amanda reminded herself to take it easy. She had the feeling Elise was ready to do it but she wanted to allow Elise to set the pace. However, tasting Elise and feeling her warmth didn’t make ‘taking it easy’ an easy task. It was almost impossible not to slide her hand under Elise’s blue evening gown, impossible not to work her hand slowly but steadily up her calf and then her thigh. Impossible to stop the goose bumps Amanda felt crawling over her skin when Elise pulled up Amanda’s top and began caressing her skin. To slow down her heartbeat, Amanda lifted herself up and took a deep breath.

              “You are a very good French kisser, Elise Renard,” Amanda grinned at her in the darkness not knowing what else to say.

              “I’m half French,” Elise replied in all sincerity. “Of course, I’m a good French kisser.”

              “That sounds very logical, darling,” Amanda was smiling at Elise’s seriousness. “I’m full-blown Aussie. Let’s see how far I can get with that.” Her mischievous remark passed unnoticed as Elise pulled her back and started kissing her frantically. Only their breathing was audible in the dark hotel lounge, disrupted by their occasional muttering and moaning and giggles and the sound of the silk-like fabric of Elise’s gown rubbing against Amanda’s clothes.

              “We should get a room,” Elise suddenly whispered into Amanda’s ear touching it slightly.

              “Yeah, we should,” Amanda murmured back with a grin, however showing no intention to stop nibbling the German’s neck.

              “Ok,” Elise said with determination. Amanda lifted her head and looked Elise in the eye.

              “Really?”
              Elise nodded.

              “We don’t have to, you know?”

              “I know,” Elise replied softly. “I just don’t want to do it here in the corner.”

              “Oh, you don’t?” Amanda said innocently. She looked around searching. “The broom cupboard, then? Boom boom style?”

              They got a room.

***

Gabriella was slowly turning the cocktail glass in front of her. Her head was beginning to spin, too. She felt dead tired and was on the verge of laying her head down at the bar. It couldn’t only be a matter of her not being used to the alcohol. It had to be exhaustion, physically and mentally. After all, she had played a very tough match the day before if not the toughest match of her career. A Grand Slam final. Not only had it required a massive exertion from her body but also a nonstop mental vigilance and if there was something that Gabriella had understood in theory but now felt in every bone, it was how nerve-wrecking and exhausting winning a Grand Slam final could be.

              Yes, but it wasn’t her who had won. Gabriella had hit the winners, she had served for the match, she had held up the dish, but nobody knew that. Only she and Lulu knew it and with all the alcohol floating through her veins she suddenly felt like standing up and shouting the truth out to the whole room. From the corner of her eye, she checked the bar she was sitting at and frowned. Not many people were left at this time.

              Gabriella had persuaded Luella that it was in fact her who should attend the press conference and the Winners Ball, too, explaining that only she could convincingly talk about the match as she had played it. However, the presser had turned into a bittersweet torture. Every time a journalist had called her by her sister’s name, Gabriella had felt a latent pain in her chest and the more Luella’s name had been called out in the room, the more her heart had burnt. But she had accepted the pact and now she had to deal with it. No matter how hard it would be to live with such a secret weighing on her mind.

              Getting up from the stool she quickly headed for the ladies’ room. She turned on the cold water and splashed it onto her face. It didn’t make her feel better. She leaned against the sink and looked herself in the face. I know your little secret. Sasha’s words were echoing in her brain. The unexpected face-to-face in the locker room came to her mind like a nightmare again. Obviously, Sasha assumed that Luella was into girls. What else could she think after what had happened in Paris, anyway? But why would she call it Luella’s secret? Gabriella’s advances had made it absolutely obvious that she was hitting on Sasha and not hiding it at all. From Sasha’s point of view Luella was not hiding a secret from her.

              Gabriella bit her lower lip and shook her head but stopped abruptly as her head started spinning again. She groaned. The situation was slipping through her fingers. She couldn’t grasp it. What a disaster! And what if Lulu learned about it? If Sasha was approaching Luella again, probably making allusions, Gabriella knew for sure that her twin would get mad and eventually might even find out what was behind Sasha’s conviction that Luella was gay. That in fact it was Gaga who liked girls.

              Stumbling to the bathroom door, Gaga moaned at the thought of Luella finding out. She grabbed the door handle, her heart started beating faster and the room vaguely spun around. With Sasha on the loose, at least knowing that one of the twins was gay, Gaga felt like she was in an uncontrollable, unstoppable racing car heading straight for a wall of bricks and the impact would hurt much more than seeing her sister’s name on her very own Grand Slam trophy. The day she had always imagined to be the best in her life and of her career – the day she would win a Grand Slam – had turned into a dark, frightening nightmare. Gabriella opened the door and staggered outside.

              Heading for the hotel exit she realized that it was almost morning. Above the city of London the grey sky was brightening for a new day. She squinted her eyes at the sudden brightness and the cool air was like a shock on her skin making her stop in her tracks. She opened her eyes again looking for a cab. A little further down the road a single cab had lined up waiting for passengers. To her surprise, Gabriella saw that there were two figures getting into the black car. It was Amanda and Elise, the runner-up in the doubles competition. The new dream team. Gabriella was astonished. Over the course of the fortnight jokes had been told in the locker rooms, all in good fun. Nobody believed the badinage could possibly be based on fact and Gabriella hadn’t said a word about what Elise had told her a week earlier. But the way Amanda and Elise looked at each other in the players’ lounge, in the hallways and even on court caused everyone to giggle.

              Apparently they had spent the night in the hotel. The two doubles runners-up probably had had more fun at the party than Gabriella, the champion of the singles competition. Seeing them drive off into the sunrise a terrifying feeling of emptiness spread over Gabriella’s heart. As she looked down the deserted street, Gaga realized how lonely she was. She had no one to confide in. Only Lulu.

              She braced herself and wiped away the tears that had begun to fill her eyes. It was time to go home. Time to face Luella who was waiting in their house, eager to hear the stories about the Winners Ball.

***

The car had become terribly cold. But perhaps he was only feeling his own inner coldness which had inhabited him for the last two days, Tom contemplated. It was the second night he had slept in his rental car after Ted had kicked him out of their Wimbledon home. At first he had been driving around aimlessly, trying to clear his mind and to figure out whether to abandon his blog and get together with Ted again or to stop thinking about and crying over Ted – and pursue his task. He hadn’t come to a positive answer yet, instead he had gone back to Wimbledon yesterday looking out for the few players that were left in the village.

              From a safe distance he had watched Ted move out of the home with his mum. After they had left he had driven around and had spotted this year’s ladies’ runner-up Sasha Mrachova taking a walk. He had followed her and when she had walked home and disappeared inside her house he had parked at the side of the road and had just stayed there, silently crying in the car until he had finally fallen asleep.

              After the first night he had left the car at the same spot in front of Sasha’s house and had gone out for breakfast. Afterwards he had joined the tennis fans on Henman Hill to watch the men’s final but after an hour he caught himself looking up to the sky. He had lost track of the ongoing match and the score and he realized he couldn’t care less about the tennis that was being played. Who was it on Centre Court anyway? Not Ted Curry.

              He had walked the streets of Wimbledon Village for several hours and when it got darker and the streets emptied of the last spectators he had slipped into his car again and listened to some music. He was already thinking about driving up to Leeds where his brother lived when all of a sudden a taxi stopped in front of Sasha’s house and soon after the Czech stepped out of the door. She looked like a goddess in her evening gown. Suddenly wide awake, Tom had pulled out his camera and had zoomed in on the beautiful woman. She was on her way to the Winners Ball, Tom figured. And when she came back, he would be here. You never knew. She might pick up some girl and take her home.

              So, there he was freezing and shivering in the early morning after the Winners Ball. Sasha hadn’t come back yet but he didn’t want to give up hope. He had his camera ready on his lap next to a huge pizza he had ordered. The delivery man was certainly surprised when he had dropped off the Italian food, but by then Tom had settled in to his new-found task. He had begun to enjoy his sleuth life. He was just about to stuff the last slice of pizza into his mouth when a taxi pulled in around the corner. Licking his fingers clean, he ducked down behind the wheel and reached for his camera. Yes, he silently jubilated, he could make out two people in the back of the car. The taxi slowed down and Tom got into an aiming position, zooming in on the car. With the taxi coming to a halt, he realized it didn’t stop in front of Sasha’s house. He looked through the camera to get a bigger frame and almost yelled out in surprise. This was not Sasha Mrachova and some random girl stepping out of the car. This was better.

              When the taxi drove off he could see the scenario in full color. Fifty feet in front of him, Top 10 player Amanda Auster and this year’s Wimbledon sensation Elise Renard stepped into a footway that led behind the backyards of the houses to the next road. They were holding hands and Tom began taking pictures at lightning speed. When they had vanished, Tom jumped out of his car and ran after them, but slowed down when he reached the path. Through the trees the morning sun fell onto the couple while they were clinging to each other like two drowning people and, hidden by the high hedges that surrounded the gardens, they  were kissing each other madly.

              After a while Tom put the camera down and stared at them in amazement. He had taken enough photos to prove the point. He looked at the two girls who now stood there in silence holding each other tightly. Then they kissed for a last time and Elise stepped through one of the garden gates and disappeared. 

Stanford, United States

Elise carefully opened her hotel room door and peeped outside. The corridor of the hotel was empty and silent. She took another look to each side then stepped outside her room and closed the door. Wearing her pyjamas she quickly moved across the hall and knocked on the door opposite her room.

              During the weeks after Wimbledon, she and Amanda had talked for hours and hours over video calls and had conceived a plan for how to make it easier for them to spend their nights together. They had booked rooms opposite to each other, while Elise had made sure that her parents’ room was on a different floor. On the one hand the secrecy made their young love even more exciting, on the other hand lying to her parents preyed on Elise’s mind.

              After Wimbledon she and her parents had flown to Florida where Elise would prepare for the U.S. hard court season. She had resolved several times to tell her parents during dinners, car drives and a day at the beach – but had never plucked up the courage to finally do it. One evening she and her mom had been preparing dinner and while Elise was cutting some vegetables her mom had stepped behind her, and looking over her shoulder to check the proceedings, had given Elise a fond kiss on the cheek. Elise knew her parents loved her. They had stood by her during the long terrifying month of injury and were terribly proud of her latest achievements.

              Experiencing her mom’s affection while lying to her parents about whom she talked to every night almost brought tears to her eyes. Elise had put the knife down and had turned around to her mom.

              “Mama?”

              Her mom had looked up, surprised to see her daughter almost in tears.

              “What’s up?” She had approached Elise and had given her a hug. The embrace made Elise feel even worse.

              “I love you,” she had finally whispered to her mother.

              “I love you, too, Elise,” her mother had replied, astonished by Elise’s apparent emotional distress. She had given her daughter a close inspection but Elise had turned back to the vegetables and her mother had not mentioned the incident again. And then they had made their way to Stanford and she still hadn’t told them.

              Amanda opened the door and let Elise in. Immediately, the German pressed Amanda tenderly against the wall and while pushing the door shut with her foot she slipped her hand into Amanda’s pants. For five nights now they had been making good use of the time they had together, with Elise becoming more and more adventurous and confident.

              Two hours later and exhausted from their late-night cardio training they snuggled together on Amanda’s bed and Amanda was just about to fall asleep when Elise lifted her head.

              “How did you tell your parents?”

              “I didn’t,” Amanda answered, knowing what Elise was talking about.

              “What? You’re not out to them?” Elise could not believe it.

              But Amanda laughed.

              “No, I mean, they found out themselves. No need to tell them. Unfortunately.”

              “Why? What happened?”

              With a sigh Amanda sat up on the bed.

              “My mum walked in on me one morning and found me with my girlfriend, with her head between my legs.”

              “What? Are you kidding me,” Elise laughed.

              “No,” Amanda said with a smile. “And it was not funny, you know.” But Elise couldn’t stop laughing. They laid down again and still giggling, Elise rested her head on Amanda’s chest. It didn’t make her forget her worries, but she finally fell asleep with a smile on her face.

***

It seemed the hot conditions drove out the players to the practice courts earlier than usual. Stanford was an oven and the players cherished the morning hours when the site was still cool. Gabriella walked over to her chair, glancing at Lulu who had also paused for a chat with Rafael. Since Wimbledon things had drastically changed between the sisters. The championship final was the last time Gabriella had sworn to herself, she would play a match for Lulu. In spite of her intricate connection with her twin, Wimbledon had left a bitter taste in Gaga’s mouth.

              She couldn’t care less about the attention Luella received and the hundreds of interviews she had given since Wimbledon. Something else bothered her more than anything. It was Luella who had entered the Top 10 due to her Wimbledon win, while Gabriella was still ranked 17.

              Yes, everything would change now. What better way to start than on a new continent with a new surface and a new Grand Slam to prepare for? She was a good player and it was time for the world to know that. She had thought about getting her own trainer. Maybe play some tournaments without Lulu or quit doubles. But she wasn’t really sure what to do and she had tried to find a way to bring the conversation up with Luella but every single time she had failed.

              Instead she had simply distanced herself from her twin during the two weeks after Wimbledon, which had turned out to be rather easy considering that Luella had spent her short vacation with Rafael. Even though Gaga was invited to come along to Barbados, she had preferred to stayed at home at their parents’ and catch up with old school friends.

              But now she was back on the tour and not only did she need to find a solution for the dispute with her twin, there was still Sasha she had to worry about. The Czech player needed to be monitored and another clash between Sasha and Lulu must be prevented under any circumstances. If Sasha slipped a remark like she had done after the Wimbledon final to Lulu about what happened between Gabriella and Sasha during the European summer the consequences could be terrible.

              For many nights, Gaga hadn’t been able to sleep properly as her mind was circling around the thought of how to handle the situation. She knew, that in the end her sister would find out anyway. But at least Gabriella wanted to tell her. And not just her sister. With a sigh, she sat down on her chair taking huge gulps from the water bottle.

              “Hey,” a friendly voice behind her said.

              Gabriella turned her head. It was Elise Renard, who seemed to be an early bird as well. Gaga greeted the German and confirming that Lulu was still flirting with Rafael she motioned for Elise to sit down next to her.

              “Do you have a new Tennis Nurse novel you could share?” Gabriella had lowered her voice. “I have read all I had during my vacation.”

              “I have only read The Girl who Preferred The Grass and The Case of The Grumpy Umpire so far,” Elise answered with a secretive smile. “But I only borrowed them myself.”

              “We really should have gone to the Tennis Nurse Trading Dinner in Wimbledon,” Gaga muttered. “Guess we were too busy playing tennis, right?” As soon as she had said it she wanted to bite her tongue.

              Elise raised her eyebrows. Of course, the whole world knew that Elise had been busy, reaching the quarterfinal in singles and the final in doubles. But Gabriella had merely watched tennis in Wimbledon after crashing out in an early round. She had supported her twin sister, sitting in the player’s box. Gabriella sighed. Elise was a very nice girl and she really liked becoming friends with her. It was a great start, as Elise already knew that Gabriella liked girls and Elise herself enjoyed having someone to talk to about her new relationship which she still kept secret from her parents. But how was Gabriella supposed to open up to people while the fact remained that she and Lulu had switched matches and betrayed all the other players by doing so? She really needed to put an end to the charade.

              If Elise was bemused by Gabriella’s comment she didn’t show it. She probably thought about her own successful and miraculous week in Wimbledon while giving Gaga a huge smile.

              “I know someone who has loads of Tennis Nurse novels,” she whispered to Elise. “Morgana always travels with a huge bag of books. She studies them for whatever reason and seems to have some very rare books as well. I borrow my books from her.”

              Elise nodded conspiratorially. Suddenly having a partner in crime Gabriella felt lighter and fresh. And when her sister called her over to continue practice she jumped up, gave Elise a low-five and sprinted to the baseline. There was a world outside of the Galloway Twins’ universe and it was time for Gaga to give it a try.

***

Tom looked terrible and he knew it. Since he had landed in California he had gotten a tan, but now that he looked into the mirror his skin seemed oddly pale and under his eyes were dark rings. He wasn’t sleeping well, dreaming of Ted sometimes or lying awake because he was afraid of dreaming of Ted but nonetheless thinking about the Brit.

              He hadn’t spoken to Ted since that fateful morning in Wimbledon, when he had told him about his idea for 30 Love. Ted had not replied to his e-mails nor had he answered any of his calls. It was over between them and Tom had to accept that it was due to his idea of forcing all the players out of the closet. He wondered if Ted had talked about Tom’s plan to his friends on the tour and if they planned to do something about it. For the first time this year he feared the moment the WTA and ATP would join each other again for a tournament. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he met Ted by accident.

              He gave his cheeks a little rub and then rushed out of the hotel to the tournament site. He had an appointment with Candice Crantz, his boss.

              “Sit down, Tom,” Candice smiled, when he entered her little office. He could tell that she and some other people had noticed the change in his demeanor and looks and he knew that they were a bit worried about him.

              “How are you?” Candice sat herself down in her office chair and gave Tom a close inspection.

              “Fine,” he answered. “Wonderful.”

              “You don’t look fine. Nor wonderful, to be honest,” she said. “Is something bothering you?”

              Tom sighed. He really wanted to keep this whole story to himself, but on the other hand longed to talk to someone. Since he had kept the relationship with Ted a secret there was hardly anyone he could trust to talk to about the break-up. But Candice was herself in a relationship with a player, Agnes Lion. He looked up at his boss.

              “I had a relationship with one of the players,” he blurted out.

              Candice grabbed the armrest and rolled forward with her office chair.

              “Oh, dear,” she said leaning on her desk. “Who is it?”

              “I don’t think it wise to tell. Besides, it’s over now,” Tom shrugged, as if it didn’t bother him at all.

              “Well, I think I can't blame any girl who falls for you,” Candice grinned. Raising an eye-brow, Tom slowly shook his head.

              “Not a girl, Candice,” he gravely said.

              Now it was Candice’s turn to lift her eye-brow.

              “An ATP player?”

              Tom nodded. He could see from Candice’s surprised look that she had had no clue that he was gay. Suddenly, she laughed.

              “And I was worried you’d break all the girls’ hearts.”

              “No,” he grinned. “I leave that to you.”

              He gave his boss a little mischievous wink and then joined in on the laughing. He realized that it was the first time since he had arrived four days ago. It felt great.

              “I see you did your homework,” Candice said with a smile. “But I can assure you, no heartbreak for me anymore. I’ve been with Agnes for six years now and I have no intention of changing that.” She leaned back in her chair.

              “There’s actually something else I wanted to talk about,” she continued. “We plan to promote the doubles players a bit more. Of course, not as much as the singles players but just to show the variety of the game and make it more popular among the fans.”

              “Sure,” Tom nodded, waiting for his assignment.

              “I want you to do some interviews and photo shoots. Maybe a video. Make it look fun,” Candice explained. “I have to say I’m even more glad I chose you for this job, now that I know that you will understand that some doubles partnerships have a deeper foundation than others and that a relationship between two players must not be addressed, of course.”

              Tom swallowed thinking about his blog. He managed to give Candice a little smile.

              “Yes, of course.”

***

Throwing her racquet bag onto the floor, Amanda let out a quiet sob and sat down on her hotel room bed. She covered her eyes with her hands and let her head sink onto her knees. That was it, she thought. She had seen it coming. Yes, she’d known it all along since she had lost that third round match at Roland Garros. But here she was facing the facts.

              Her cell phone buzzed and with a glance she saw that Elise had sent her a message: Want to talk? No, she didn’t want to talk to Elise. Not now.

              Only an hour ago it seemed she could hold up and might win the match, but Ivana Katina had braced herself and in the end she had broken Amanda to gain the lead in the second set, held for 5-3 and had broken Amanda again to win the match. She was a much younger and more inexperienced player than the Australian but it seemed Amanda wasn’t able to awe the young players any longer. No wonder, when she hit the ball like a recreational player.

              “Crap,” she shouted. It really was. Losing in the second round in Stanford meant that she was out of the Top 10 for the first time in two years. She had kept a straight face during her press conference but she felt the doubts and the murmurs that had been uttered by her critics for the past month creeping in on her and finally clasping her heart like a cold, wet towel. Maybe she wasn’t a Top 10 player at all. Maybe she had only been lucky the past few years. Instead of winning trophies, she was losing in early rounds. Her performances in Paris and Wimbledon had already taken her ranking down a peg. But having been a quarterfinalist in Stanford last year, her early exit now had taken her out of the Top 10 altogether.

              After calming down she slowly got up and walked to the bathroom to wipe her nose. When she flushed the paper down the toilet she heard a knock on the door. Amanda sighed. She should have answered Elise’s message. Now she had to face her new girlfriend and she didn’t want to in a moment of defeat. Unlike Amanda, Elise was thriving in Stanford, having beaten both of her opponents so far in straight sets and couldn’t be happier. Not exactly what Amanda needed right now.

              Again, there was a knock. Amanda checked her eyes in the mirror but had to accept the fact that she looked puffy and dreadful. So be it, she thought. Why shouldn’t Elise see her beaten and knocked out? Wouldn’t be the last time probably, so the German better get used to the fact that her new Australian girlfriend was a loser who couldn’t hit the ball into court. And if the new Wimbledon quarterfinalist superstar couldn’t take it, they had better end it right now. Angrily, Amanda sniffed and walked over to open the door.

              “Hello, babe,” Natsumi grinned through the door. “Heard you are now able to join me in binge drinking this little bottle.” She waved a huge bottle of saké in front of Amanda’s nose. Despite her sullenness Amanda couldn’t help grinning. She let her Japanese friend in. Natsumi gave her a little kiss on the cheek, settled down in a chair and opened her bag to produce a fine array of sushi rolls.

              After gorging the food and half of the saké bottle, Amanda felt better.

              “How are you and Elise?” Natsumi leaned back taking a sip from her glass.

              “Ok, I guess,” Amanda answered.

              Feeling that her reply lacked the required newly-in-love enthusiasm she explained, “It’s all good. Really. I just don’t like the situation we are in. It’s weird to talk to Elise’s parents knowing that they have no idea what I do to their little daughter at night.”

              “Details please,” Natsumi demanded but Amanda shook her head.

              “Is she good?” the Japanese girl inquired with a grin and Amanda finally nodded. Yes, the sex was much better than she had anticipated, after learning that Elise was completely inexperienced.

              “She’s very ambitious,” Amanda explained. “On the court and off the court.”

              “Keep her,” Natsumi said. Even though she had winked at Amanda there was a serious tone in her voice. Amanda smiled at the Japanese. There was probably no one on the tour who knew Amanda better than her former lover and now best friend.

              “I’ll try,” Amanda said. Natsumi nodded but then took a look at her watch and decided that it was time to leave.

              “Yes, I’ll try,” Amanda repeated, while walking Natsumi to the door. But her whole life had turned out to be one frustrating repetition of trial-and-error, clearly visible right now whenever Amanda stepped onto the court. She closed the door behind Natsumi and felt the tears creeping back into her eyes. With her head soaked in Japanese wine, the doubts were closing in even more now and Amanda was wondering if Elise would keep her in the long run or if she would get bored with Amanda when she finally was able to overtake her. Perhaps Elise didn’t love her after all. Perhaps this was just the younger player’s way of getting a taste of success while playing it safe by not telling her parents. It was only a matter of time until Elise would make the Top 10. And then she would dump Amanda.

***

Gabriella hurried into the hotel lobby. Looking around, she saw Elise sitting in her chair and checking her cell phone. The German looked worried and flinched in surprise when Gabriella poked her in the back.

              “Are you texting Amanda?” Gaga grinned at her trying to glimpse over Elise’s shoulder to see the cell phone’s display.

              “No, just waiting for her reply actually,” Elise explained. Apparently she was wondering if she should text her Australian girlfriend again or even call her. “She lost her match today.”

              “Yes, I heard about it,” Gabriella frowned. “Sorry about that.” She understood that is was not only a match lost but also Amanda’s Top 10 ranking, which would hurt even more.

              “She will have better days,” Elise mumbled.

              Gabriella sensed that Elise was not only gloomy because her girlfriend had lost an important match but because Amanda hadn’t bothered talking to Elise about it.

              “Come on,” she grabbed Elise good-humoredly by the shoulders and pushed her through the door of the restaurant that was next to the hotel lobby. At a table in the back Morgana had already unpacked her huge bag of Tennis Nurse novels. Gaga and Elise sat down and looking over the titles grinned like Cheshire cats.

              “May I borrow this one,” Elise asked excitedly, holding up an edition of Tennis Nurse and The Wiz Kid of Oz. Morgana looked up from sorting the novels by publishing date. She paused for a moment.

              “Qui, qui. This one is ok,” she nodded. “I just need to make sure that I keep all the books published before 1999 for my research.”

              “Research?” Gaga wondered while looking through the treasure heap.

              “Mais qui. You see, in the novels from 1997 to 1999 there is a group of eight players who play Task Tennis,” Morgana replied impatiently while Gaga and Elise gave each other questioning looks. Task Tennis? They both had only read newly published Tennis Nurse novels.

              “But it is not really explained what Task Tennis is,” Morgana continued her lecture. “I’ve asked around and no one seems to know about this game. The reader is made to believe that it is some sort of secret training method. But it was not.” Elise giggled at seeing Morgana all excited.

              “When I was in Brighton I found out that this group really existed,” Morgana opened her eyes in triumph.

              “Brighton?” Now Elise and Gaga cracked up laughing. “When did you go to Brighton?”

              “During Eastbourne,” Morgana said matter-of-factly. “With Sasha. She was supposed to help me, but she let me down.”

              “Sasha?” Elise and Gaga said simultaneously, then looked at each other awkwardly. Even though Gabriella was glad to have Elise as a new friend, she avoided talking about Sasha as she knew that Elise didn’t like the Czech. But she didn’t know why and was reluctant to ask Elise. Even Morgana seemed to sense the uneasy shift in their conversation. She quickly went on with her explanation.

              “Well, anyway,” Morgana said. “I went to that address again after Sasha got drunk in that bar, and thought I might look in one of the windows. Quelle surprise! There was Monica Jordan with another woman. I couldn’t see the woman’s face as she was sitting with her back to me. They were drinking tea in the living room, which was brightly lit so I could see the walls. Books, books, books. And a whole shelf of Tennis Nurse novels.”

              Elise and Gaga looked at the French player in amazement. This was the most hilarious story Gabriella had ever heard. Sasha drunk? This could not be true. Morgana must have made that up or had lost her mind. Everyone knew that Morgana was a bookworm, she was highly intelligent and well-read. But this was incredible.

              “Didn’t you talk to them?” Elise gave Morgana a questioning look.

              “Mais non,” Morgana replied. “But when they walked out of the room I pushed up the window a little bit and stuck my head in to get a better look. Right under the window was a writing desk with papers.” She shifted in her chair a little uneasily.

              ”I didn’t want to steal it, you have to believe me,” Morgana shrugged. “I just grabbed some of the papers to have a quick look. So I was sitting there under the window going through the papers when suddenly I heard them coming back and I had to duck. They locked the window from inside.”

              By now, Gaga and Elise were looking at each other with open mouths.

              “I couldn’t do anything, even if I wanted to put them back in place.” Morgana had spread out her arms in a helpless gesture. “So I had to take the papers with me.”

              “Was there anything interesting in them for your research?” Gaga snickered, even though Morgana gave her an annoyed look.

              “Yes, there was.” She pulled out a sheet of paper from her bag. “The rules for Task Tennis. Written down by one of the real players herself. Now I only need to analyze the handwriting to find out who is behind the original group of eight players. I’ve already started to collect the autographs of all the players active in those years.”

              “You do know that you are a bit peculiar, Morgana?” Elise said carefully.

              “Yes, I know,” Morgana shrugged. “But it’s ok to be different. Nothing wrong with that.”

              Gaga and Elise looked at each other from the corner of their eyes and Gabriella wondered if the French woman knew what her words meant to both of the younger players.

***

“It will be Renard,” Sasha’s coach said over the phone. “You’re going to play Elise Renard in the next round.”

              Interesting, Sasha thought. She had just finished her press conference after her victorious afternoon match and was heading back to the hotel. A rematch of their Wimbledon quarterfinal. It wouldn’t be an easy round at all but the anticipated difficulty of the face-to-face increased her determination even more.

              Sasha got into one of the tournament cars, and cruising through the town she looked back on the past weeks and smiled to herself. Eastbourne and more precisely the fiasco of Brighton seemed far behind, now. From time to time she couldn’t but come across Anastasia, the umpire she had spent the night with in Eastbourne, or Morgana on her way to practice but neither the French player nor Anastasia Stea had insisted on furthering the relationship. The Brighton incident was almost like a big grey cloud over the British sky vanishing with every ball she hit. In addition, Wimbledon had been a great experience and reaching a Grand Slam final after months of hard work had instilled the thought in Sasha that she indeed could get back to the very top. She could even say she had enjoyed her time with Jaro. Dutifully he had attended her matches in London and being an athlete himself understood her determination and uncompromising will to win. Jaro was a nice guy. She had grown to like him. She had almost scared him the day they had said good-bye in Wimbledon as she had thrown her arms around him. There were no journalists around in the early morning at Heathrow and no need to put on a show. She had felt truly sorry to leave him as he had turned out to be sympathetic guy with great patience. For several nights he had listened without complaining when she had told him the Brighton story – at least those parts she was able to remember. When she thought about it they were very similar in a lot of ways and now she wouldn’t even be lying if she said she had spent the night with him. A good match, she thought with a grin.

              The car arrived in front of the hotel and in a good mood Sasha climbed out and shouldered her racquet bag.

              The most important thing was tennis again and her climbing up the rankings after Wimbledon had pushed her mood through the ceiling. She was back on track at last, meaning she was back in the Top 10. Her next goal was the Top 5, where the air got thin and the peak was within reach. Being back in the Top 5 was one thing but what Sasha really wanted was to get the No. 1 spot back. She was willing more than ever to work hard for it. It had hurt for a moment that she hadn’t won Wimbledon but then she had accepted the lost match and moved on. She had lost to a tough opponent. Gabriella Galloway.

              Now that Sasha thought about it, she felt great about her runner-up trophy. Much better than what Gabriella had to deal with. No, Sasha wouldn’t mourn over a Grand Slam which wasn’t hers. Gabriella could tell her a thing or two about it. She could imagine that it was no fun for the American to win her first Grand Slam final only to know that it was her sister’s name in the history books.

              Tennis wasn’t just about the number of trophies you had but it certainly was very pleasing to see your own name on a shiny silver plate. Seeing her name on a runner-up trophy – the first in two years – Sasha was proud of the evolution of her game, and the progress she had made. She had made huge strides and had silenced her doubters with a magnificent summer reaching the final in Rome and the quarterfinal in Paris. With her success in Wimbledon she was suddenly a heavy favorite for the U.S. Open series. She deserved it. Everyone had to acknowledge that her comeback was well-earned. Every day she spent a huge amount of time on court and dedicated most of her time off to discussing tactics with her coach or at the gym working on her fitness. Once in a while she allowed herself to think about Gabriella and Luella and the confusion the twins had temporarily brought to her mindset.

              But being an athlete and determined to be the best meant making sacrifices. The idle days were over. She would have plenty of time for friends and more when she retired. For the moment, it had to be all about tennis. No time for trips to the countryside with Morgana to hunt down the author of Tennis Nurse, no time to follow the Galloways around.

              Entering the hotel, Sasha was sporting a big grin, but then stopped dead in her tracks. Speak of the devil! There was one of the Galloways with Morgana and Elise right before her in the hotel lobby. Sasha was puzzled by the coincidence and seeing these three together, but then quickly went to the elevator.

***

“Ok, what’s new?” Gemma Heffington sat down heavily in the plastic chair that was placed courtside. Her arms were dangling at each side and she looked like she couldn’t hold a racquet for another second. Ivana Katina had come from the court next to Gemma’s and sat down on her chair with her back to Gemma. She looked over her shoulder and addressed the British player.

              “Are Amanda and Felicia still an item?” she murmured. “Felicia wasn’t around in Wimbledon, was she?”

              “Yes, she was,” Gemma sat up and turned around. “She was with Ted. I saw her in the first week but not at the courts but in London at a dinner with the British players.”

              “What is going on with them? Is this a threesome?” Ivana nodded her head in delight. What better way to head into the US season than by feeding the rumor mill?

              “No, definitely not for Amanda. Just look at her. Losing to you in the second round,” Gemma winked at Ivana sarcastically.

              “What is that supposed to mean? I was really good yesterday.” Ivana grabbed a new bottle of water. From the court next to them, Angela Porovski and Gemma’s fellow British player Robyn Lawrence walked over and sat down under an umbrella with Robyn and Ivana.

              “You never know with these quiet ones. God knows, Amanda could be a total stud,” Robyn threw in. “One of those discreet Casanovas.”

              “True,” Gemma nodded. “In Rome she was seen with Natsumi, so who knows what’s going on there.”

              “Yes, maybe Amanda was just tired of pleasuring her harem,” Robyn said to Ivana poking her in the side. They fell silent again and watched the Galloway twins hitting balls on the next court.

              “I can never tell them apart on the court. Can you?”

              “It doesn’t help that they wear the same clothes,” Angela admitted. “Off the court it’s easier. Lulu’s more open.”

              Robyn snorted. “This will change now that she is a Grand Slam champion. I’m pretty sure we won’t see any imitations of Sasha’s walk to the baseline or her serve anymore.”

              “Oh, why not? I would appreciate a little rivalry at the top.”

              “Yes, Lulu really dislikes Sasha. I wonder why?”

              “I heard a thing or two,” Robyn said cryptically.

              Before Robyn could spill the beans, however, a familiar face opened the gate and entered the practice courts. Looking out for the Galloway twins, Tom dragged heavy camera bags to the court.

              “Why is Tom so awfully pale?” Gemma mused. “He also looks like he hasn’t shaved in four days. He’s making us Brits look like cave people.”

              “Yes, he doesn’t look good,” Angela wondered. “I will ask him tomorrow, if he is alright. Stephanie and I will have an interview with him tomorrow after our doubles match. They want to promote doubles more, it seems.”

              “Speaking of doubles,” Ivana addressed Angela. “What’s up with that new partnership of Amanda and Elise? They totally rocked in Wimbledon, right? I was actually convinced they would take the title.”

              “Yes,” Angela grinned. “They make a good pairing.”

              “It’s a bit unusual that they keep on playing doubles, don’t you think, since they both never get tired of emphasizing that their focus is on singles?” Gemma inquired.

              “Well, I think they only play for fun,” Angela answered with a shrug.

              “Fun? Amanda doesn’t take the tennis too seriously these days,” Robyn gave Ivana a wink.

              “Yes, Elise should be careful,” Gemma snickered. “Amanda, the discreet Casanova, is on the prowl.”

              The Russian and the two Brits laughed but Angela remained silent. She was still watching the Galloway twins hitting forehands.

              “Let’s play doubles,” she finally said, standing up.

Cincinnati, United States

With her racquet bag on her shoulders, Gabriella Galloway left the locker rooms and made her way up the concrete stairway that led to the players’ central lobby.

              Hitting some balls with players other than her sister had turned out to be a good experience and the fear of alienating herself from Lulu too much, too soon was now slowly fading away to her relief. Obviously, the changes she had decided to stick to in Stanford were paying off. Yes, everything would have been perfect if it hadn’t been for the current draw. Two days ago the draw had been made and it had resulted in sleepless nights for Gabriella.

              Stopping for the thousandth time in front of the large draw board that had been set up in front of the entrance of the players’ lounge, Gabriella slowly went through all the names. After quite a few years on the tour, Gabriella had become an expert in analyzing a draw. She didn’t need the help of her coach or a team to figure out whom she would likely meet in the third round or a quarterfinal. Ranking didn’t matter, she knew. Upsets could happen anytime and Gabriella was better at analyzing potential match ups than most of the players which was due to the pact she had had with Luella.

              Her eyes stopped at her sister’s name. Lulu would have to beat two easy opponents in the first two rounds. And if she won, which was very likely she would have to play Sasha in the quarterfinal.

              “Damn,” Gabriella said to herself.

              This was exactly the kind of scenario that Gabriella wanted to avoid at all cost? I know your little secret. Sasha’s words, after they had played the Wimbledon final, still rang in her ears. In the sleepless nights during her brief vacation she had figured out that Sasha thought Lulu was gay. It was a hilarious thought. How could anyone in her right mind believe Lulu was into girls and faking a relationship with Rafael? But standing in front of the wicked draw again, Gabriella couldn’t laugh. There had to be a solution, she thought. Of course, she could simply take up the Galloway pact again and play for Lulu. She was sure, when it came to playing Sasha her twin sister would be more than happy if Gaga offered to play in her place. But she didn’t want to give up her new independence. How was she supposed to break free from Luella if she played Sasha in this tournament? She had to stay strong. Out of frustration she gave the wall a little kick.

              “You don’t like the draw,” a voice behind her announced.

              Gabriella whirled around. It was Tom. She gave him a quick smile but shook her head.

              “Well, everyone is looking forward to a potential rematch of the Wimbledon final,” Tom smiled. Gabriella realized that he had mistaken her for Luella.

              “Sure,” she shrugged, then turned around and walked away without another word, knowing that he thought he was talking to Luella for whom such behavior was normal.

              Gabriella stepped out of the players’ area and looked up at the sky. It was a cloudless day, perfect and warm. The sun was blinding. A gorgeous Indian summer announced itself in America. She took a long, deep breath then closed her eyes. She had to calm down! A few seconds flew by. Perhaps Lulu would screw up and lose in the earlier rounds. Perhaps the anticipated match between Lulu and Sasha and a possible meeting in the locker rooms would never happen. Gabriella suppressed the nausea the thought of a meeting between Lulu and Sasha caused, but she couldn’t deny the fact that her twin sister had the perfect draw for the first two rounds. A qualifier and another player ranked beyond the Top 50. She began walking across the grass area to the parking lot, but then straightened her back and cocked her chin into the air before resolutely stepping out onto the pavement.

              She knew she had to do something. There was no way Lulu was going to meet Sasha alone in a locker room. No way.

***

“Thank God we skipped The Cherry Tree for a change. Everyone goes there! Every night. It almost feels like you are having dinner in the players’ lounge,” Elise muttered while looking into the menu Amanda was holding up for both of them.

              Monica had invited Agnes along with Candice and the younger players to a restaurant which was located in a different part of the city from the players’ hotel. It was much more cozy and they didn’t have to fear being seen by curious journalists or fans.

              “How are my little ones doing?” Monica asked innocently.

              Amanda grinned at Elise. Surely Agnes and Monica had planned on taking advantage of the meal to inquire about their pet project – Amanda and Elise. Knowing Monica, Amanda had warned Elise that they couldn’t expect any subtlety in the first place, but confronted with the question Elise bit her lip.

              “We are fine,” they said in unison.

              Agnes and Monica looked at each other, immediately reading the simultaneous answer correctly. Elise and Amanda looked down at the tablecloth.

              “Have you told your parents already?” Agnes asked Elise calmly.

              “I am working on it.” Elise glanced over to Amanda, who gave her an affirmative nod.

              “Little by little, step by step,” Agnes said, touching Elise’s arm. “I know your dad and I remember when I told him about me. Scared the shit out of me, I can tell you. But he was absolutely lovely. I know, it’s going to be different when it’s your own child and not just a player you coach but there is no reason for it not to go well.”

              Elise swallowed hard and briefly nodded at Agnes. It was nice of her friend to buoy her up, but she had tried so often to bring up the topic with her parents and every time she had failed. When the waiter arrived and they ordered their food, Elise relaxed again. She didn’t want to think about the big step she had to take sooner or later. Then she remembered something she wanted to ask Monica.

              “Do you know anything about Task Tennis?” Elise addressed the older player.

              “What?” Elise couldn’t tell by Monica’s face whether she was surprised or hadn’t understood the question.

              “Well, you know, Tennis Nurse,” she said uneasily. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned it. A thought suddenly came to her mind. Maybe Monica had been part of the group of eight players. Elise thought it was probably not wise to tell Monica about Morgana’s research.

              “I read an older novel,” she lied awkwardly. “There was a reference to that game. I thought you knew more about it? It sounds like good fun.”

              Elise noticed that Agnes and Monica exchanged a quick glance.

              “Yes,” Monica answered with a shrug. “I read some of them back in the day. But it’s fictitious.”

              “Is it?” Elise said as casually as possible, knowing she was walking on thin ice. “I heard there might be some truth in it.”

              Monica laughed, and Agnes and Candice joined in.

              “That’s how they sell you this nonsense,” Candice explained with a wink. “It’s called marketing.”

***

This restaurant was definitely better than The Cherry Tree, Mint thought while having a look around the dining area. Not only was the food better. The very expensive restaurant was almost empty, which ensured that whatever Evelina Rickenbacher, Mint’s stepmother might do next would happen far away from her fellow tennis players and therefore couldn’t embarrass her. Only her friend Chili was there, but she knew Evelina and her moods already.

              “Do you girls want some drinks?” Evelina got up from the table. “I will go to the bar, just to wind down a bit.”

              Chili and Mint shook their heads politely at Mint’s stepmother who walked over to the second room where some relaxing music was being played. For the U.S. season Evelina Rickenbacher had decided to travel with Mint, to keep her company, she had said. But Mint knew she wanted to keep an eye on her stepdaughter if only to determine why the money she and Mint’s dad put into coaches and trainers hadn’t paid off lately. Mint had stumbled a bit during the grass season. As soon as Evelina had vanished into the other room, Chili leaned over and smiled brightly.

              “Did you see?”

              Still contemplating her new watchdog situation, Mint shrugged. She used to be wonderfully independent.

              “What?”

              “Elise and Amanda. Together again.”

              Surprised, Mint turned her head around and spotted the two girls at a table a bit further away, along with Agnes, Candice and Monica. Turning back to Chili, she shrugged again. What did she care about smiley Elise? She was more worried about the embarrassment a drunken Evelina would one day cause at a tournament.

              “Agnes was coached by Elise’s dad once,” Mint said. “They’ve known each other forever, and Monica and Amanda used to play doubles for a while.” It seemed a logical explanation for the group on the other side of the room.

              “They spend a lot of time together without Agnes and Monica,” Chili winked at Mint.

              That was true. Mint laughed out loud, then leaned back in her chair. “Are you trying to give me a hint?”

              “Well, word has it that Elise is Amanda’s new girl. I overheard a conversation in the showers the other day,” Chili explained. “I have heard they booked their hotel rooms on the same floor, opposite each other. If that’s not dating then I don’t know what it is!”

              “You are imagining things. Elise isn’t gay. I mean, never ever!” Chili snorted, but then bent over and cast a glance at Elise’s table again. The young German was laughing at something Monica said. She looked happy. Mint felt her chest tighten up. Not only was Elise having an awesome season but she also seemed to have fun off court. Mint bit her lower lip and swallowed hard as jealousy kicked in. She suddenly got up from her chair.

              “I’ll get us some drinks,” she proclaimed, heading to the bar and leaving a surprised Chili behind.

***

“Do they have Italian food, there? I’m dying for some real pasta and tiramisu,” Antonia Sapore proclaimed.

              With a chuckle Tom nodded and pushed open the door of the restaurant. Soon, the three of them sat at a table far from the large windows where everyone could spot them. Martina and Antonia weren’t too keen on being recognized. They had just gone through a whole afternoon of interviews and photo shoots. It was time to have a break, now.

              “When can we have the photos? I would like to keep a few of them,” Martina said to Tom.

              “Yes, I like the one where we are in these big deckchairs in the garden area,” Antonia smiled.

              “Oh, that is a very sweet picture of you,” Tom admitted, then grinned. “You look like newly-weds.”

              Antonia and Martina exchanged a quick look, then they began to look at Tom intently, wondering what he meant.

              “I know about your Italo-Argentine alliance,” Tom said casually. Antonia and Martina shifted in their chairs wondering even more where this conversation was going.

              “What do you mean?” Antonia asked, but a wink from the photographer put an end to their doubts.

              “I mean, I know that you are together.”

              Antonia and Martina looked at him with wide eyes. Of course, some people knew about them by now. Most of the doubles players were aware of their relationship. But someone like Tom, whose job involved covering mostly the better ranked singles players shouldn’t have access to this kind of information. Antonia placed both hands on the table. She seemed on the verge of succumbing and either throwing an Italian tantrum or slapping that smug scribbler in the face. But Martina held her back.

              “Fine,” the Argentine said carefully. “Now, what do you want?”

              “Nothing,” Tom said.

              He seemed amazed by the sudden irritation shown by Antonia and Martina. Creating a certain complicity, Tom bent over the table and lowered his voice.

              “Don’t worry, girls,” he whispered smiling somewhat mischievously. “I’m totally gay myself!”

              Martina snorted in surprise, but then leaned back relieved. Not that Tom’s confession was surprising, now that the Argentine thought about it. The truth was that she just hadn’t paid attention to him in the first place. Sure he looked a bit flamboyant but she simply wasn’t interested in guys – straight or gay.

              “Well, a bit unfortunate for you to work on the women’s side of the tour,” she said, while taking a look around at the tables to check if anybody could overhear their conversation.

              “Of course, I am more interested in the ATP catalogue,” Tom chuckled. He paused for a moment as if he was having an idea. “Thus if you ever know some male players who play that field, I’m all ears,” he said slowly, waiting for an answer.

              “Good thing we are in Cincy now,” Antonia grinned. “Loads of boys in the catalogue for you.”

              Tom looked smug, waiting for Antonia to go on and reveal some names. The Italian was just about to give the British guy some juicy stories she knew about the male players when Martina stopped her abruptly by raising a hand.

              “It’s only rumors,” she said quickly, ignoring the protesting look of Antonia. “No one knows anything definite about the guys. So, I don’t think it’s fair to spread the rumors.”

              She smiled politely at Tom and then waved over the waiter to order a soft drink.

***

Under the sheets Elise pulled at Amanda’s pants with vehement impatience but the pyjama shorts wouldn’t come off. The German had already successfully got rid of Amanda’s shirt but now she seemed to struggle. Elise moaned in frustration while Amanda silently chuckled, not only because the action tickled her but because of Elise’s incessant worship of Amanda’s body. The Australian felt wonderful. She had come through some tough matches in the last two weeks and was satisfied with the tennis she had played. Due to her seeding she had no match to play tomorrow. But Elise would be exhausted if she kept pulling so hard at Amanda’s pants.

              “You will fall out of bed,” Amanda giggled. “And maybe we should wait until the strawberries have arrived.” Using every last ounce of energy Elise ripped down the pants and lifting the blanket she triumphantly threw the pants behind her and looked upon her naked Australian lover.

              “I’m sure we can finish the first set before they are served,” Elise teased, catching her breath. They had just called room service, ordering a bowl of strawberries. Not that they needed an aphrodisiac, but they had found it an extravagant idea and fun to order erotic foodstuff. But then Elise frowned. There was a knock at the door.

              “See. I told you, this was a good hotel. They are quick,” Amanda winked at the German. She pulled the blanket over her naked body while Elise got up and walked to the door as she was still dressed. Watching Elise with her long blonde hair and her tall body produced a warm and fuzzy sensation in Amanda’s stomach. It felt good to be adored by such a beautiful girl.

              Elise disappeared into the corridor and opened the door. From the bed Amanda could only hear her inhale sharply.

              “Mama!”

              “You forgot to give me your laundry,” Amanda heard Elise’s mother say.

              “Yes,” Elise blurted out hastily. “Yes, I’ll get it for you.”

              The German backed up waving to her mother to wait at the door, then turned around to Amanda placing a finger over her mouth. Her eyes were opened wide in panic. Immediately Amanda grew absolutely still, aware of her nakedness under the blanket and the ridiculously awkward situation they were suddenly in. Elise rushed to the bathroom and began to rummage through her laundry bags in search of her sweaty practice clothes. But she wasn’t fast enough.

              When Elise’s mother knocked again at the half-closed door and then opened it, Amanda wanted to warn Elise, but it was too late. The more light from the hotel corridor fell through the opening door into the room the further Amanda slipped down under the sheet. Only her nose was sticking out over the blanket. Just as Elise stepped out of the bathroom with her arms full of laundry, her mom walked around the corner. With raised eyebrows she oversaw the scenario.

              “We wanted to watch a movie,” Elise and Amanda mumbled in unison realizing when Elise’s mother turned around to the TV, that this was the most flimflammed declaration ever. The TV was not even switched on. And Amanda’s shorts were hanging from the monitor. Everyone looked at the blue pants but no one said a word. Then Elise’s mother grabbed the laundry from her shell-shocked daughter. Giving Elise a kiss on the cheek she told them to have fun, wished them a good-night and left the room.

              As soon as the door was closed, Amanda cracked up laughing. That was the most embarrassing moment she had had in a while. But when Elise sat down on the bedside and started to sob Amanda knew that this would be a long, hard night that not even the strawberries, which arrived shortly after and Amanda began feeding to Elise, could sweeten.

***

The hotel corridor was empty and the lights were dimmed. Hesitating for another moment, Sasha finally decided to just do it. Why not give in to a little craving? She had pulled herself together for the last weeks and had not given in to temptation. It was tennis, tennis, tennis for her. She had worked hard on the practice courts and in the gym. And why not reward her effort with a harmless prize?

              Dressed in her pyjamas and her morning slippers Sasha walked down the hallway to the elevators. She knew where she had to go. But at the very moment she pressed the button she heard a door open and voices talking. Damn, she thought. It was 2 A.M. in the morning. Why couldn’t people sleep?

              The voices came nearer and looking around Sasha saw the fire exit stairs and decided not to wait for the elevator. She sprinted up the stairs and thinking about the sweet reward she would soon hold in her hands she had to smile to herself. It was harmless, after all, she told herself, and nobody had to know. It was just one time. Arriving at the next floor she stopped to check her pulse.

              Yes, she thought. Nothing to worry about. She was as fit as a fiddle. She could handle the little peccadillo on the side.

              She pushed open the door to the hallway. In front of her opposite the elevator doors she could see her destination. The vending machine was radiating a cool, wondrous light as if to promote the sweet temptations hidden inside. Thinking about the candy bars melting in her mouth Sasha couldn’t help grinning. She hadn’t had chocolate since Eastbourne.

              She took the coins from her pyjama pocket and tried to choose which candy bar to take home. In the end she opted for the small bag of very sweet peanut butter cups and a coconut bar. Ripping the wrapper open she stuffed the whole coconut sweet into her mouth. With a sigh she closed her eyes and leaned against the vending machine, dissolving in the instant explosion of endorphins.

              The ping of the elevator made her open her eyes. Watching the door slide open Sasha was wondering if she was dreaming. The disclosed view of the person inside the elevator didn’t help her to come to a solution. Inside the grey box, dressed in single-colored dark red silk pyjamas and lit by the pale light, looking like she had been beamed there from a spaceship, was a Galloway twin, staring back at Sasha.

              For a moment it seemed that time stood still. Sasha didn’t even feel shocked. Neither did she feel the urge to run away from the Galloway threat. The coconut-chocolate pulp in her mouth seemed to numb her emotions. With curiosity she realized that the twin inside the elevator didn’t move either. The doors were already closing again. But then suddenly the Galloway girl reached out and pushed the button to open the door again. With another ping time moved again and the twin stepped out of the elevator.

              “Hey,” Sasha mumbled with her mouth full, noticing that Lulu or Gaga had coins in her hand. They both had gotten up in the middle of the night to get some chocolate bars. Trying not to laugh so as to prevent the chewed candy spilling out of her mouth, Sasha curiously watched the Galloway twin who couldn’t help grinning herself. Was that Gaga or Lulu, Sasha wondered.

              “You want a peanut butter cupcake?” She held out her hand with the opened plastic bag.

              “Yes,” the twin smiled. “Thank you.”

              Friendly and kind? Must be Gaga, Sasha thought in relief. Not the crazy Lulu, who was very possibly besotted with Sasha and anything that moved. Gaga reached out her hand and taking out one of the sweets she touched Sasha’s hand slightly. It felt like a tiny bolt hitting Sasha’s skin.

              “I couldn’t sleep,” Sasha said, suddenly feeling sheepish standing there with the twin in their nightwear. Also her hands were beginning to sweat. Was it the chocolate infused high or was there a tension between them? The dark-haired girl standing in front of her didn’t say a word but watched her instead.

              Sasha was suddenly aware of all the moments when she had followed the twins, listened in on their conversations and the thrill whenever she had gotten closer to unveiling their secret. Or did the thrill have a different meaning? She swallowed down the remains of the coconut candy, thinking about the day when she had crouched in the locker to hide, but was discovered by Gabriella. The twin hadn’t said a word but had smiled at Sasha. And then there was the frightening moment when Lulu had shamelessly hit on her.

              Still lost in confusing thoughts the forward movement of the Galloway twin seemed like a shadow coming towards her. But the touch of the girl’s lips on her own felt very real. The following mingling of peanut butter taste with coconut stirred all the feelings Sasha had held under the surface. Without hesitation she grabbed the girl and pushed her against the vending machine, accidentally pressing the little beeping buttons. Embracing each other they kissed for what seemed like aeons but must have been only seconds.

              When she suddenly realized what she was doing Sasha broke free and stared at the Galloway girl in shock.

              “Gabriella?” She needed to know who this was! The Galloway twin hesitated.

              “No,” she mumbled. “I mean, yes.” She took a deep breath, then looked Sasha in the eyes. “I mean, no. I’m Lulu.”

              Yes? No? Sasha was thoroughly discombobulated. But before she could say another word, the twin had vanished to the fire exit stairs.

***

“Almost inexcusable. I have no other words to describe it. Inexcusable.”

              Hugh sipped on his coffee and shook his head watching Elise’s second round match against Polly Duke, the Canadian player more than forty spots below her in the rankings and not at Elise’s level. However, today she dominated the match.

              “It looks as if Elise is on a different planet altogether. Her mind seems to be somewhere else. No forehand, no backhand and most of all, no serve,” Sam Smith added.

              “Yes, sensing that Renard is having a difficult time getting her first serves in, the Canadian has really stepped up her game and gone for the second serves, returning them with much control and force.”

              Sitting next to Hugh, Sam could do nothing but nod at his words. The Canadian had every reason to walk with her head held high. She had won the first set 6-2.

              Elise had had a great American summer season so far. She was fit and had looked solid during her previous tournaments. But today her game was stricken with errors and her most potent weapon, her serve, had deserted her almost completely. Her first-serve percentage was at twenty-seven percent. Even though Sam wouldn’t have called Elise’s performance inexcusable, what she had seen so far from the young German was at least incomprehensible. After losing the first set, Elise sat on her chair and stared blankly at her towel. Something was obviously occupying her mind and prevented her from concentrating on the match. For the first time since Sam had started covering her matches, she had seen Elise truly out of sorts during a match.

              Down at the court Elise hit a double fault.

              “That’s her seventh, I believe,” Hugh said and Sam agreed.

              The next serve was well-placed in the box and Polly Duke had difficulty returning it. It fell short into the court and Elise rushed forward but hit the ball too hard and it landed in the net. She buried her face in her hand. She had just been broken on another service game.

              “Wrong day to play like this,” Sam stated. “And wrong opponent. Duke shows great body language right now.”

              From Elise Renard’s point of view losing the first set was indeed regrettable but now she was trailing 0-4 in the second, which seemed unworthy of the new hot shot who was rising up the rankings.

              “This is so loose from Renard. She looks like she has embarked on ‘Mission: Impossible’ here,” Hugh restrained a bitter laugh then shook his head in disbelief.

              “Duke is certainly not an easy opponent and right now she is not going anywhere. She’s here to stay. She isn’t allowing Renard to get back into the match.”

              “Yes,” Hugh said pensively. “Now, let’s see if she can hold her serve, now that she can smell the upset. She has a habit of getting tight when she comes close.”

              Elise was known for her determination on court, her fighting spirit. And it was clear she had her back against the wall. Hugh was right. 0-4 didn’t look good on paper, but just one nervy game from Polly Duke and the momentum could swing again in Elise’s favor. Sam knew it all too well. When a player had nothing to lose she would let go of her fear and play freely suddenly. Indeed, the German player began to move around, to hit the ball with more confidence.

              “Impressive,” Hugh commented.

              “Well, it’s a start,” Sam laughed when Elise broke Polly Duke. “You could feel she got angry with herself. Hit her shots with more vigor.” Yes, it seemed Elise was back on track. Stunning the meager crowd, but most of all Sam and Hugh in the commentary box the German held her own service game for 3-4 in the second set.

              “Renard has the momentum,” Hugh said with admiration. “Is this the start of a comeback?”

              But as soon as he had said it, it seemed the race to catch up had exhausted Elise mentally. Again the German lost her concentration and in the end it was Polly Duke who finally converted her match point, breaking Elise’s serve again. While Hugh cleared his voice, Sam sighed loudly.

              “Renard missed a big opportunity,” she said.

              ”But a great win for the Canadian here.”

              “Yes, absolutely,” Sam agreed. “A wonderful finish for Polly Duke.”

              Watching Elise pack her bag, Sam could see how disappointed Elise looked. She left the court looking down at her feet.

***

Lying on her bed Elise stared at the ceiling of her hotel room. She was waiting for Amanda, who was still on the tournament site scheduled for an evening match today. It could take another three or four hours until Amanda was back, and even though Elise felt the need to talk to Amanda about her loss today she also knew that the inevitable would come up. Like it would again and again until she had the guts to finally do it.

              After her loss, Elise had had a long conversation with her father. There were some crucial flaws in her game he had tried to address in previous matches but today they had again surfaced and had cost her the win in the end. At least, that was what he believed. She had agreed, of course, knowing however, that today the loss wasn’t due to tactical errors or wrong shot selection on the big points. The lack of concentration wasn’t due to endgaming or fear of facing match points.

              Elise rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow. She might have boldly told her friends in the restaurant about her determination to tell her parents but she hadn’t bothered to really do it. The surprise visit by her mother last night had pushed the situation she had been in for the last couple of weeks to the brink. She felt like she hadn’t slept at all that night.

              “Your mother didn’t look too shocked,” Amanda had said in the morning when they were getting ready to go down to breakfast.

              “Because she doesn’t understand what’s going on,” Elise answered. It didn’t make the prospect of telling the truth to her apparently clueless and innocent parents any better.

              “Yes,” Amanda shrugged. “Maybe.”

              Elise looked up. “You mean she got it?”

              “There was no way she did not see my shorts on the TV set, Elise. I think it’s time you tell them about us.”

              Elise moaned in embarrassment and shook her head. No, it was definitely better to pretend her mother didn’t understand what was going on.

              “I have to wait for the right moment,” she said hanging her head.

              “There is no right moment, Elise.” Amanda stood up. “There is only the moment you choose to do it,” Amanda said tiredly. “Or not.”

              Amanda slipped into her clothes and went into the bathroom closing the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed she heard Amanda brushing her teeth behind the closed door. Why would she close the door if she was only brushing her teeth? It could only mean that she was fed up with Elise and her antics. The last two words and the frustration in them were ringing in Elise’s ears. Neither of them had had much sleep during the night, but Elise felt that Amanda was tired of her – of her and the whole situation.

New York City, United States

Leaving the media area Sasha exhaled slowly. It had been hard work explaining where her serve had gone during the second set, which she had lost eventually to Gemma Heffington, the young and upcoming British player. But she had managed to come through her third round match in the end, winning the third set convincingly by six games to three against the more inexperienced player.

              But the absence of her serve was frightening. Of course, it had never been the same since her injury two years ago, but today the double faults had a different reason. As much as she had tried since Cincinnati to avoid the Galloway twins, this morning she had bumped into one of them at Flushing Meadows. For a while now, the twin sisters had not been seen together that much, which made the initial moment of contact even more awkward as Sasha couldn’t tell whether it was Gaga or Lulu. Together they were much easier to distinguish. This morning on her way to the gym Sasha had looked down on the ground, carrying her sports bag and listening to music with her earphones when suddenly someone came around the corner and collided with her head-on. They both had cussed in surprise, but when Sasha realized who she had bumped into she had breathed in sharply.

              “Lulu?” Sasha stared with wide-open eyes at the twin who looked back curiously.

              “No,” the Galloway said curiously. “I’m Gabriella.”

              Sasha laughed with relief.

              “Are you going to the gym?” Gabriella asked. She herself had a bag over her shoulders revealing her own destination. Sasha nodded and Gabriella flashed her a smile gesturing to go there together.

              But Sasha didn’t move. Even though it was a relief that this wasn’t Lulu she didn’t feel at ease at all. Would Lulu have told Gaga about the nighttime incident at the vending machine? Probably, since they were twin sisters. Meaning there was a good chance Gaga knew about Sasha. Would she talk to other people about it? Was she gay herself? She had hung out a lot with Elise lately. But then again these two hung out with Morgana, so Gabriella was probably not gay but only a book worm like Elise and Morgana. Or maybe, Sasha thought, it had not been Gaga at all in the hotel talking to Elise and Morgana, but Lulu. Why hadn’t she thought about this possibility? She looked up but Gabriella had already run ahead to the gym.

              Sasha sighed. When she entered the gym she looked for Gaga. The Galloway twin was training in the middle of the huge hall, so Sasha decided to go to the back and hide behind one of the red square columns.

              Since the night in Cincinnati she had been completely lost in the Galloway mystery again. But it had taken a bitter-sweet turn now. She not only wanted to know what was going on with the twin for reasons related to tennis. She wanted to know because she had enjoyed what had happened.

              Everything had been like a sweet sweven, almost unreal in hindsight. Only the taste of peanut butter left in her mouth made her believe that it had actually happened. Sasha had tried to remind herself that she didn’t like Luella. But she couldn’t deny that the kiss had unfurled desires she had subdued for her career’s sake. If Lulu hadn’t vanished all of a sudden they would have probably spent the night together. She had to admit, she liked the thought. She even had to admit that more than once her mind had wandered and she had imagined herself with the dark-haired beauty.

              Suddenly exhausted from racking her brains, she stepped from the treadmill. What was going on with her? Sasha shook her head. Before she could figure out the Galloway mystery, she obviously had to figure out herself.

***

Comfortably sitting in a leather armchair, Amanda accepted the cappuccino from the waitress and turned back her attention to her friend Natsumi on the other side of the coffee table. It was a relaxing day for the Australian after an extremely tough match the day before against Stephanie Moeller. She had come back to the hotel sore and exhausted, so today she had had only a light hit in the morning.

              Spontaneously, she had decided to chat with Natsumi in the hotel lounge while she waited for Elise to return from Flushing Meadows. They would later have dinner in the hotel restaurant, as Amanda didn’t feel like going out tonight.

              “I will spend some time at home, then fly directly to Tokyo,” Natsumi mused. “How about you? Looking forward to going back to Japan?”

              Sipping on her coffee, Amanda just shrugged timidly. Natsumi was surprised. She knew that Amanda liked Japan and was always eager to play there.

              “Elise will skip Tokyo,” she explained. “Hadn’t planned it due to her low ranking before Wimbledon. She will play the European indoors instead.”

              This meant they would spend several weeks apart from each other. Amanda had been convinced that she had gotten used to this life, but apparently now she had to admit that the prospect of not seeing Elise made her feel doleful. The whole situation seemed to be at a dead end, since Elise had made no move yet to come out to her parents and they were still crossing corridors late at night.

              A few seconds passed before Natsumi bent over the coffee table. With a big grin, she winked at Amanda.

              “I know exactly what you will need when in Japan.”

              Amanda frowned and began to play nervously with her coffee spoon, turning it around in her drink. If she kept on doing so, she would start digging into the cup itself.

              “And what is it?”

              Over-enthusiastically, Natsumi raised her hands up in the air and literally shouted in the hotel lounge, catching the attention of some clients.

              “A girls’ night out! In town! Like in the good old times!”

              Amanda grinned. They had had a good time in Tokyo, and she wouldn’t be able to turn down this opportunity. Of course, she would have preferred Elise to be there with her but perhaps it was even better this way. Nights out with Natsumi could turn pretty wild, pretty fast. Amanda looked at Natsumi and nodded in confirmation.

              “See? That’s a deal!” Natsumi grinned. “But before Tokyo there is this little tournament called the U.S. Open and it requires all our attention first. How do you feel after yesterday? It was one hell of a match!”

              Amanda giggled and put down her empty cup on the table.

              “It was tough but I loved it out there. The fight, the crowd supporting me. I really enjoyed my time on the court and when I was down a break in the third set I just kept on fighting.”

              Natsumi cracked up laughing and shook her head. A bit taken aback, Amanda frowned and bit her lower lip. What was so funny now? What had she said to make Natsumi laugh so hard.

              “What is it?” Amanda wanted to know. Natsumi grinned.

              “Nothing, really,” she answered. “It’s just that you sound like Elise. That’s totally something she would say!”

              Amanda felt her face grow hot. Natsumi was right. She was adopting Elise’s way of speaking. But Elise made no effort to adopt Amanda’s. Natsumi cleared her voice and tried to come back to more serious matters.

              “So. Kovalenko tomorrow?”

              Amanda nodded gravely. Yelena could be a dangerous opponent.

              “Yes, a tough one but I’m ready.” Amanda lifted her head. “I can’t miss out on the opportunity to gain as many ranking points as possible here. It might be too late in the Asian swing,” she explained. “I’m here to give my best and I want to get back into the Top 10.”

              “Oh, and I thought you were here to win a Grand Slam,” Natsumi teased her.

              “Sure,” Amanda replied with a chuckle. “Who isn’t?”

***

He had to do something! Anything! Ted jumped up from the hotel room chair and began to walk around the small room. Why hadn’t he tried to prevent this from the very beginning? He should have never let Tom get away with it in the first place.

              This was the first time since their break-up that Ted had allowed himself to think about Tom again. He had turned on his computer, braced himself and looked for Tom’s blog on the web. He was surprised to find that Tom had already published several blog entries and he was relieved that they didn’t contain any confidential information about the players. So far, nothing compromising had been posted, but his ex-lover had given an insight into players’ routines, pointing out the difficulties faced by gay players in general. Still Ted was worried. He had no way of finding out what Tom was planning or if he had abandoned the idea after their break-up. The uncertainty was killing him. But what could he do now? Frustrated he slammed the laptop shut and headed for the door.

              Prior to booking his hotel in New York he had made sure that is wasn’t the same as Tom’s. Not that Tom’s earnings allowed him to book a hotel of Ted’s standard but he had to be careful nonetheless. Even now he looked around himself when he entered the lobby. But the red-haired journalist was nowhere to be seen.

              Ted entered the restaurant and making a beeline for the bar he looked around the dining room. In one of the tall booths he recognized Amanda Auster, a soft drink in front of her. She was alone.

              All of a sudden Ted felt bad for her. He had persuaded Felicia to stop seeing Amanda half a year ago. Since then the Australian had had a topsy-turvy year and had dropped in the rankings. Instead of heading for the bar he decided to walk over.

              “Hello Ted,” Amanda greeted him, raising an eyebrow. Her aloofness didn’t surprise him. He had done her wrong and she probably didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He took a deep breath.

              “Can I sit down for a minute?”

              She nodded and he slipped onto the bench. Only then did he notice that there was another glass with juice on the table. Was there someone else with Amanda? He hadn’t seen anyone when he came in. Amanda was waiting and he himself had no intention of prolonging this.

              “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about this whole thing with Felicia,” Ted muttered.

              “Oh, Felicia,” Amanda seemed surprised. “You know, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

              She looked up and casting a glance into the room she suddenly smiled. Her eyes followed someone through the room causing Ted to turn his head. Elise Renard was walking towards them. It suddenly dawned on Ted that this was Elise’s glass of juice, and that she was probably the reason that the disaster with Felicia didn’t bother Amanda anymore. He laughed in surprise. He certainly would have felt bad if Amanda was still mourning over the singer. Elise seemed neither surprised nor bothered by his sudden appearance and soon they engaged in a friendly conversation, with Ted ordering himself a drink at the table. Not for long though as there were new guests arriving in the restaurant and all of a sudden he heard the voice he wanted to avoid like nothing else. He turned around and looked with a wild stare. Tom was sitting at a table near the entrance and was talking to Candice Crantz, his boss.

              “I need to get out of here,” Ted spluttered moving back and forth on his chair. Elise and Amanda looked at each other, then at Ted again.

              “What’s the matter?” Amanda shook her head amazed to see Ted so erratic and nervous.

              “This guy,” Ted replied pointing at the table. “I must not be seen by him.”

              “Tom?” Elise turned her head, recognizing the redhead.

              “Yes, Tom,” Ted said uncomfortably. Of course, the girls knew Tom as he was working for the WTA. Ted didn’t want to tell Amanda and Elise about him and Tom, but he had already revealed too much about it.

              “He is stalking me,” he lied.

              “Really?” Amanda laughed. “I know that he’s into guys. He is definitely interested, yes. But he never struck me as the stalking kind.”

              “How do you know he is into guys?”

              “Martina Rodriguez told me,” Amanda replied. “She also told me that Tom was very curious about the male players but Martina and Antonia didn’t say a word to him about them.”

              “He wanted to know which guys are gay?” Ted was shocked. Amanda nodded. The table fell silent as Ted seemed to be mulling something over. Then suddenly he looked up with an intense look in his eyes.

              “I need to stop him,” he whispered. Then he looked at Amanda. “You will help me.”

***

Sitting on the balcony of one of the Arthur Ashe suites, Gabriella counted in her head how many times she had played on Ashe compared with her sister. She had played seven times when Lulu had only played five times. Moreover, Gabriella had managed to win two of her matches on Ashe.

              Being American, the twins had been scheduled on Ashe quite often but never for themselves alone. It had always been partly about the opponent – a Top 5 player at least, or the defending champion – they had to play when stepping out onto the U.S. Open center court. When they had played lesser opponents the twins had been scheduled on a show court but not on Ashe.

              This year it was different. At least for Luella it was. Due to the ranking points she had gained with the Wimbledon title she was the highest ranked American woman right now. As the eighth seed she was now scheduled on Ashe entirely because of herself.

              Gabriella had waited with Lulu in the locker room and she could tell that her sister was terribly nervous. Suddenly all eyes were on her. She was a Grand Slam winner and had to perform at her best in her home slam.

              Gabriella however was still ranked in the Top 20 and played her matches on the outer courts or on Grandstand, the second largest show court. Since Stanford they hadn’t switched matches and she felt much better that way. She was slowly working herself up the rankings, she was training harder and was hitting with Elise, Amanda and Natsumi in practice now.

              She had had a good win today, and the good thing about it was that it was all hers. She would win or lose on her own terms now. No analysis of the draw to be made in advance, no Luella who made her play the tricky opponents, no heartbreak when Lulu played for her and lost the match. Regarding her tennis, she couldn’t be happier. But there was something she thought about all the time. Someone.

              Down on the court Luella had just hit a very good winner down the line and the crowd roared with excitement. Gabriella sighed. Yes, she would have liked to play that match here on Ashe. But there was no reason to abandon her plan at the U.S. Open, not even a possible clash between Lulu and Sasha.

              Once again she thought back to the night in Cincinnati. It had been pure luck that she had had a sudden craving for sweets and had taken the elevator to the next floor. In hindsight the kiss in front of the vending machine had been a brilliant idea, as Sasha had lost the following day in Cincinnati and never reached the quarterfinal where she could have played Lulu. Gabriella was suddenly in a very comfortable position.

              Sasha assumed that it had been Lulu who had kissed her. But her reaction was not – as Gabriella had feared before Cincinnati – to confront Lulu about it, but to avoid her sister at all costs. This morning on the way to the gym she had felt that Sasha had relaxed upon finding out that she had bumped into Gabriella, not Lulu. Still Sasha had kept the conversation short and had settled in the back of the gym to prevent the Galloway twin from coming over. Gabriella almost felt a bit sorry for the Czech.

              She sometimes thought about Sasha when lying in the dark hotel room late at night. She recapitulated the sensation she had felt just before she had leaned forward and had touched Sasha’s lips with hers. A rush of adrenaline had gone straight to her heart exploding into tiny coconut flavored shivers when they kissed. What had amazed Gabriella was the fact that Sasha hadn’t slapped her in the face but had kissed her back instead.

              The melody of the pressed vending machine buttons still rang in her head. She wondered if her behavior in the locker room in Roland Garros and again the kiss in Cincinnati really had to do only with Lulu and Sasha or whether it was directed by her own interests. It had undeniably been the most intense kiss she had had with a girl so far and the more she thought about it, the more she craved for another one.

***

Elise’s hands were sweating. She wiped them on her pants then clenched her fists again. Ever since she had seen the draw she had feared the fourth round. But she would have never imagined that it would be that bad.

              “Oh, what a shot!”

              Sitting next to Elise on a large sofa in the players’ lounge was Angela, her German friend and fellow Fed Cup player. In front of them were three large televisions showing the matches currently on the show courts. On the first Ted Curry was two sets and a break down on Robert Lepus. It looked like the fifth seed was going out in the third round already.

              However, both girls had turned away from Ted’s misery and were currently watching two other matches. On the one screen the match between Rufino and Christoph Franke was on its way to becoming a classic. The two players were level at two sets all and had held serve so far in the fifth. Neither seemed to be breaking down. A spectacular winner by Rufino made Angela exclaim in delight. Distracted by Angela’s enthusiastic yell Elise looked away from the screen she was watching and shot a glance at the men’s match on Arthur Ashe. She would be playing as soon as they had finished. For the first time in her career she was scheduled to play on the biggest tennis court in the world. It could hold 23,000 people. She felt nauseous. But it wasn’t the enormousness of the stage that made her feel sick. The stadium didn’t look overcrowded for the men’s match and Elise knew that as soon as she stepped out onto the court she would forget about the spectators. It wasn’t her own upcoming match that made her nervous.

              She looked back to her screen while drying her sweaty hands again. Scheduled on Grandstand court, Amanda tried to break her opponent to win the match. She had won the first set against a shaky Yelena Kovalenko, but surprisingly the Ukrainian had done a good job to compose herself and had played a magnificent second set. Yelena held, then Amanda held for her own service game and once again tried to break Yelena for the match.

              “You shouldn’t even watch this,” Angela remarked. “Just look at you. All tense and anxious.”

              “How can I not watch it?” Elise answered. “I have to play against one of them.”

              “Please, Elise, don’t tell me you are watching for tennis reasons,” Angela smiled and pointing to the men’s match. Rufino had two match points. “This could be over in a second and you should already be in the locker room.”

              Shit, Elise thought. Amanda had to hurry up and win the match. Elise couldn’t imagine going on court without knowing if Amanda had won. But on Grandstand Amanda was unable to break the unrelenting Kovalenko. The set would be decided by a tiebreak.

              “Rufino just won by the way,” Angela remarked. Elise moaned. She had to get ready to go onto court, but she kept on staring at the television spellbound by the events. Just like the whole set the tiebreak was incredibly close. When the players went back to their chairs at 6-6 to drink some water, Angela gave Elise an urging look.

              “I know, I know,” Elise snapped, but she didn’t move.

              After Kovalenko couldn’t convert a set point, Amanda hit a stunning backhand down the line. Even though Yelena, who had rushed to the net, was able to reach it the ball landed in the net. From then on the caption on the TV screen merrily switched from match point to set point and back again.

              “Get up,” Angela almost yelled at Elise. “Now!”

              She grabbed Elise’s cold and sweaty hands and pulled her from the sofa. Dragged out by her friend Elise shot a last look at the TV. Amanda and Yelena had both come up to the net exchanging volleys until Amanda hit a powerful passing shot right onto the baseline. The crowd roared in unison but Yelena Kovalenko lifted her hand and gestured at the chair umpire.

              She would challenge the call.

***

Jack’s Pizzaria was just across from the hotel where Paola Scetti and Samantha Watts were staying on 42nd street. After the night match had ended they decided to end the evening with much Italian food and even more drinks. Seated at a table up in the gallery, they leaned back in their chairs to study the menu.

              “I’ll take the Penne alla Vodka,” Sam finally grinned. “I sure need every ounce of booze after all the drama today.”

              When the waiter arrived, Paola ordered the Eggplant Parmigiani and an Italian Margarita, because Sam was right, the day had seen quite a lot of drama.

              “I can’t believe that Luella is out of the tournament,” she muttered. “In straight sets.”

              “She hasn’t been the same since Wimbledon,” Sam replied. “The title is weighing too heavily on her shoulders. She hasn’t played all summer like she did in that final.”

              Paola nodded. When their food arrived they dug in and for a few minutes there was a silence between the chatty women. The dishes were excellent.

              “I was also very disappointed by Elise Renard’s performance,” Paola finally said.

              “What was going on?”

              Sam spiked a load of penne onto her fork and shoveled it into her mouth.

              “She looked completely discombobulated for the first set,” Paola shook her head, recounting the match. “Couldn’t get her first serve in. Balls sprayed all over the place. The second set wasn’t much better.”

              “Well, I myself was busy with Amanda and Yelena,” she sighed.

              “The tiebreak is all over the news.” Paola had seen highlights of it before she had left the channel’s editing room.

              “They just went on and on and on and on and on,” Sam laughed. “When Yelena began using her challenges I thought it would be over soon. She always does that when she is in trouble and feels she is losing.” Sam had talked herself into the excitement again and Paola leaned back to enjoy the show.

              “So, Amanda has the umpteenth match point. No, wait, it was the fifth, I think. She hits one of her inside-outs and Yelena reaches it and it goes right onto the baseline. Amanda plays the ball but then there is the call. The ball is out. Everyone is confused. Is the match over? But Yelena challenges it, and guess what? The ball was right on the line. So the call is overturned and they have to replay the point. Still match point for Amanda, remember?”

              Sam caught her breath.

              “Again they engage in a lengthy rally, and again Amanda hits an inside-out. Again Yelena reaches it and slams it back cross-court. Out, says the line umpire. Again Yelena challenges. And you won’t believe it but that call was also wrong. This time it was a clear winner so they were back to 12 all, or 14 all or what not. It went on and on, I tell you.”

              She shook her head and grabbed her wine glass.

              “Amazing tiebreak,” she muttered, still overwhelmed. “Of course, it only happened because Amanda couldn’t serve out the set.” She cracked up laughing.

              “Oh, she likes to give her fans a heart condition, doesn’t she?” Paola grinned.

              “Yes,” Sam nodded. “Then she got really angry with herself and dropped a very loud F-bomb right in front of the chair umpire. It got her a code-violation warning, of course.”

              Paola shook her head in amazement, but Sam wasn’t finished yet.

              “After Amanda lost the tiebreak she went off court to change her clothes and I said to Hugh, hopefully no one would meet her on the way to the locker room, because she’d probably code-violate everything that crossed her path. I was, of course, thinking of verbal abuse and smashed racquets, right?”

              Paola nodded.

              “And you know what Hugh said?”

              Paola shook her head.

              “He said in an absolutely serious tone, ‘Oh, Lynn wouldn’t mind a little code-violation on the side, Sam.’ Can you believe it? We were still on air.”

              They almost fell off their chairs with laughter, screaming so loudly from the gallery that a waiter came running. Out of embarrassment for having caused such a clamor they felt obliged to order several drinks at once.

***

Elise had been sitting on the floor leaning against the bed for the past thirty minutes but now it was time to get up and have dinner with her parents.

              After losing her match her father had put his arms around her and had promised to take them all out to a good restaurant. On another day she would have appreciated his effort to cheer her up, but today it only meant another two hours with her parents in which she would struggle with herself whether to tell them or not. Perhaps if she only had a salad she could keep the dinner short.

              Elise got up with a sigh and not bothering to dress up she went downstairs to meet her parents. She didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant and even when they were seated she remained thoughtful and a bit grumpy. Her parents obviously felt her bad mood was the result of the lost match.

              “You had several great weeks since the grass season,” her father said confidently. “Don’t focus on the loss, but let’s work on the things we need to improve.” He nodded in encouragement.

              After they had ordered they talked about the next journey, the next tournament. Her parents planned to leave New York as soon as possible and head back to their base in Florida. They had already booked flights for the next day. Desperation crept up inside Elise. She and Amanda wouldn’t see each other for several weeks. Would they ever be able to spend more time together?

              The food arrived. While her parents started eating, Elise stared down at her plate. Tears had filled her eyes.

              “I wanted to tell you something,” she finally said with a small voice. Her parents stopped eating.

              “Of course,” her father said, nodding at her. They were waiting.

              Elise was waiting herself. Was this the right moment? But nothing about this restaurant, about this evening indicated that it was wise to do it now. Not the salad staring back at her, not the salt shaker she could see in the corner of her eye, not the smiling waitress whirling by their table. It seemed like ages in which Elise was plucking the napkin, playing with her knife and fork and chewing on her lip. Her mouth moved like she was juggling marbles inside.

              She wanted to start the sentence she had prepared so carefully, but the words got stuck in her throat. Still her parents were waiting patiently. There was no right moment, she remembered Amanda saying. There was only the one moment you chose to do it.

              “I wanted to tell you,” Elise began again, “that I’m with Amanda.” There, she had said it.

              She looked up timidly to catch her parent’s reaction. They looked at each other but didn’t seem to understand.

              “I mean, I’m in a relationship with Amanda,” Elise clarified with a raspy voice. In all the long nights she had been thinking about this moment, she had imagined a whole range of reactions from her parents but what happened next she hadn’t foreseen. With a sudden movement her father pushed back his chair and stood up, leaning heavily on the table. The swift motion gave Elise a terrible fright. Would he abandon her right here and now? Would he deny it or tell her how disappointed he was? Her father sighed. But instead of turning away he sat down next to her on the bench and laid his arm around her.

              “Elise,” her father said tenderly, shaking his head with a chuckle. “We might be old but we are not stupid.”

              “No,” her mother confirmed reaching out her hand and patting Elise’s arm. “You see, we’ve known about Amanda since Wimbledon.”

              Elise couldn’t believe it. All the secrecy and lies in vain. She stared at her parents in amazement.

              “And did you really think I didn’t see Amanda’s pants hanging from the television?” Her mother started laughing at the thought, and her father joined in.

              Now Elise was mortified. Her parents were having a ball while she was coming out to them. How could they laugh at her predicament? She felt indignation rising inside. But then she realized that her parents were simply relieved that the pretending was over. They really had waited patiently for her until she had been ready to rise to the challenge. Elise had to grin, too. This was probably not as good as Amanda’s head-between-her-legs story but it would hold up pretty well she thought.

***

Rolling on her back but remaining nonetheless in Rafael’s arms Lulu focused on the ceiling of her hotel room. Things seemed easier when looking at the blank white.

              “Cariño, how about doing something special tomorrow? I mean the three of us? You, Gaga and me. It’s been a while since the three of us did something together.”

              Rafael mumbled something incomprehensible, whether it was in Spanish or his funny English Luella couldn’t tell. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled the blanket over his head.

              “Can’t you listen to me once, Rafael?” she cried out in frustration. “I’m telling you that I’m worried! I don’t pay you for hiding under the sheets.”

              “Let’s just call it employment benefits,” he mumbled.

              Luella clenched her fists and took a deep breath before jumping out of the bed. “Get out! Get out of my bed now,” she yelled, pointing to the door.

              Rafael stuck his head out and looked at her, flabbergasted. He really was a bit slow, Luella had to admit, not only now as he was taking his time crawling out of bed. Even though she would miss his horizontal training exercises she only waved when he sneaked out of the room.

              “I need comfort!” she shouted after him. “You are useless!”

              Lying back down on the bed and plunging her face into her pillow, the young American closed her eyes to prevent the tears from falling but it didn’t work. The salty drops began to stream out, soaking the bed. Since she had ‘won’ a Grand Slam, all eyes were on her, staring with a cruel avidity, and it was hard to handle. Today’s lost match wasn’t a defeat but a choke. Another one that constituted Luella’s dark series of lost matches over the summer. Moreover, Gabriella was slipping away from her. They never laughed together anymore. Never bickered over other players like they used to. Small wonder she kept on losing like that. With every lost match the critics grew louder which only made the pressure built even more.

              The vibrating sound of her cell phone made her start and in tears, she reached out for it on the bedside table. It was a message from her sister. Her heart sped up in anticipation, and Lulu touched the little envelope that appeared on the screen.

              Dinner with Morgana tonight. Sorry, can’t make it. Have fun! Gabriella

              It hit her like a ton of bricks. Her sister was using her full name – not Gaga, the nickname Lulu had given her. Another sign that her twin didn’t care for her anymore. Gabriella had given her a hug in the locker room but then she had said good-bye to a teary Lulu and went to prepare for her own match – which she had won in straight sets. Lulu had lost on Arthur Ashe. She had had to face the journalists in the press room. Alone. All of a sudden she had turned into an untouchable.

              One reason for this was her Grand Slam. All the other players saw her differently now. She wasn’t just one of the girls anymore. She was above them. And even though she liked the thought of it, the result was that they avoided her. Not openly though. She just wasn’t invited to room parties anymore. The other players no longer encouraged her to do her imitations or her karaoke shows. They didn’t want to hear her stories. They didn’t want to know who she really was. She had stopped being interesting for them.

              With a shock Lulu realized that they treated her like a grown up. She had entered a new level, one they couldn’t reach. Jealous, Luella thought sobbing. They were all jealous. But that revelation didn’t help to change the situation.

              What was even worse was that Gabriella had begun to make new friends with Morgana and Elise, and Luella had found herself without anyone by her side except for her fitness trainer who was slowly but surely getting on her nerves. His biggest flaw was that he wasn’t Gaga. He couldn’t replace her sister. She decided to not let go of Gabriella so easily and began typing a reply.

              Tomorrow then? At the good Italian midtown, near Times Square. Love you & miss you, Lu.

              She waited several minutes, but no message arrived. Obviously, her sister had already left with her friends and once more Lulu would spend the evening alone at the hotel. Ignoring her own sister was outrageous behavior for Gaga. Lulu slammed her fist onto the mattress. It was still warm from Rafael’s body. Was it all her fault for engaging in a relationship with Rafael? Could it be that Gaga was jealous?

              A thought dawned on her. Yes, Gaga was jealous. But not over Rafael. Gaga was too uptight to even think of guys let alone lust after Rafael. Deep inside Luella knew better. It was the Wimbledon title with her name on it that had caused the rift between the sisters.

              She would have shared everything with Gabriella, Luella thought. But now that Gabriella had abandoned her, her sister had no right to be mad about the Wimbledon title. She had left the pact. Luella was still clenching her fist, thinking about her ungrateful sister. The bed had grown cold.

***

“I can’t move. I’m dead,” Amanda whispered. Covered by the sheet, she lay in the middle of the bed with her arms and her legs spread out. Her eyes were closed.

              “You don’t have to move,” Elise whispered back, climbing into bed. When she had come back from her dinner with her parents, she wanted nothing more but tell Amanda about her victorious mission. But then she saw her exhausted lover and decided to wait until the next morning. Amanda had won her match. This was her moment now.

              Elise slipped under the blanket and began caressing Amanda’s stomach. Her other hand had gotten lost in Amanda’s hair, twirling the red strands while she watched over her.

              “I can still hear the crowd,” Amanda said into the darkness of the room. “The roar.”

              With a mixture of pride and adoration Elise observed her lover’s quiescent face and when she felt Amanda’s breath had become deep and steady, Elise began kissing Amanda’s forehead, working her way over the Australian’s eyebrows, eyelashes and her cheek to reach her lips. Her hand slid down from Amanda’s stomach and grabbed her hips pulling Amanda closer. Amanda sighed. Opening her mouth to Elise’s soft kisses, she let Elise embrace her exhausted body.

              With their mouths and tongues entangled in a slow dance Elise eventually let go of her own tautness. Her hands moved tenderly over Amanda’s body while her kisses grew more intense and demanding. She pushed up Amanda’s shirt, and while stroking Amanda’s breast with her strong hand she abandoned Amanda’s lips to go down her neck, kissing it lightly. As she reached the soft skin behind her ear, Amanda held her breath and Elise slipped her right leg between the Australian’s thighs.

              “Elise,” Amanda protested meekly. But finally she moved her arms and touched Elise’s shoulders tearing at her shirt to pull it over Elise’s head. With her hands free again she went down Elise’s back to caress her buttocks and push her closer to her own body.

              “You move pretty well for a dead person,” Elise grinned, then propped herself up on her elbows.

              With closed eyes she dove down onto Amanda’s warm body. Her tongue drew circles around the sleepy girl’s breasts. Feeling that Amanda’s small nipples had grown hard Elise smiled. She loved to command Amanda’s body and her moans and breathing. Over the last months she had become quite adept in doing so. As slowly as possible, the German moved her tongue down to Amanda’s lower stomach, with the tip of her tongue barely brushing the thin skin.

              “You’ve got to stop,” Amanda whispered breathlessly.

              She had arched her back and wriggled under Elise’s caresses while Elise held her down to the mattress. Again Amanda muttered a weak protest but when Elise moved even further down, she let her thighs fall to each side and plunged her hands into Elise’s blonde hair.

              Amanda tasted of sweet wine and iron, Elise thought, when she capped the humid skin with her mouth. Today she also tasted of shower foam, New York’s chlorinated water and the sweat she had been oozing on the court. She tasted of a hard-earned victory.

              When Amanda’s sighs grew louder Elise lifted her head and glided up again, while her right hand stayed between Amanda’s legs. She wanted to control the moment when Amanda’s body and face writhed, as if she was in pain, while it was in fact the opposite sensation. Watching it was magical. There was nothing quite like it. Not even a win over a feared opponent came close. It amazed Elise ever since she had done it the first time. Even more so, it amazed her that she was the one who would make it happen again and again.

              Smiling in anticipation she put a bit of slice on her forehand.

New York City, United States

“We need to hurry,” Ted yelled over his shoulder and waved to Amanda to come. She shook her head but followed the British player.

              “I don’t even understand why you need me?” Amanda growled. But Ted didn’t answer. He was busy looking for a certain room. Judging from the greyish walls it was a cheap hotel. One of those accommodations Ted himself had had to stay at during the early years of his career. However, it was not far from Flushing Meadows which was the reason several lower ranked players had chosen it. But a day before the women’s final most of them had left already. Amanda and Ted didn’t need to worry about being seen. Ted stopped in front of a door and took out a key.

              “How did you get the key for his room?” Amanda looked shocked. But Ted shook his head.

              “It’s not his,” he said when he stepped inside the dark room. “That’s why I need you.”

              He crossed the room and opened the window.

              “His room is right under here. I waited all week for the room next door to become available but it didn’t work out. He always leaves the window open, you see?” Amanda stared at him while he climbed onto the window sill.

              “In New York?” She shook her head over the silly British guys she had to deal with, still not understanding what she was doing here.

              “You have to let me down to his window,” Ted explained in a last attempt to motivate her but Amanda gasped.

              “I wholeheartedly disagree with this idea, Ted,” she said, shaking her head. But Ted wasn’t listening.

              “You can thank me later, when you see all the evidence.”

              Carefully, he slipped down over the sill while facing Amanda. While he was hanging there only holding on to the sill, she took his hands and slowly helped him down inch by inch until he touched the window sill on the lower floor.

              “You have to go downstairs and warn me if he comes back,” Ted said without lifting his head. Before Amanda could protest, he had slipped inside Tom’s room.

***

Tom’s bags were tidily heaped in one corner of the room. On the left nightstand was one of his cameras and its battery chargers. But Ted headed straight to the other side of the bed. He sat down and grabbed Tom’s notebook. Ted was sure Tom would keep all the information in here. When the computer asked for a password he frowned. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Frantically he typed several words but to no avail. After trying every possible combination of 30 Love he was just about to give up but gave it one last try: Teddybear.

              He felt a bit foolish typing out the nickname Tom had given him. But as soon as he hit RETURN the window magically opened. Ted was astonished by the fact that even after two months Tom still seemed to care for him. Why else would he still use this password? But there was no time to wonder about Tom’s feelings now. Ted pulled out a memory stick from his pants and plugged it into the notebook. After a little search he found the file which contained Tom’s mischievous doings. They were all filed under the players’ names and Ted was surprised to see how much evidence Tom had gathered since they had broken up. He had been busy taking photos of several high profile couples in the WTA and even the ATP. Waiting for the files to be moved he was startled by the buzz of his cell phone. Amanda was calling.

              “Yes?” Ted answered the phone.

              “He just exited the elevator,” Amanda said, pressed. “You need to leave the room now.”

              Ted hung up. The computer showed that it would still need twenty-three seconds to move the last files. He jumped up and raced to the door. Opening it slowly he peeped outside and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. Tom was coming around the corner. Ted hurried back to the computer, decided he could do without the remaining files, pulled out the memory stick and shut the notebook. After placing it exactly how he had found it, he sprinted to the window. While standing outside he looked up but Amanda was not there. Why was she taking so long to get back from the other floor? In that moment the answer dawned on him. He could feel the door key in the pocket of his pants. He had forgotten to give it to Amanda and she was so locked out of the room upstairs.

              Then he could hear Tom’s key in the door. Looking around he realized there was only one way out – and that was down.

***

“Have you checked the net, lately?” Jaro looked across the table with a worried look on his face, and Sasha stopped her movement halfway, her fork full of lasagna hovering dangerously in the air over her white shirt.

              “I stopped doing that when I was nineteen.”

              Jaro rolled his eyes. He had showed up in New York early in the morning and had requested to see her as soon as possible. “Well, I do,” he said impatiently, “and I’m afraid our sponsors do, too!”

              Sasha raised an eyebrow, while biting into the piece of lasagna. Was there trouble in their little paradise? Jaro had better not have met someone and fallen madly in love with him to the point of leaving her. Sasha gulped down her lasagna and leaned back in her chair. Jaro’s sudden grumpy mood surprised her.

              “What is it? Have they published a compromising picture of you?” she teased him. “Don’t worry, you haven’t put on that much weight.”

              Jaro gasped. “You think I’ve put on weight? Where? It’s my stomach, right?”

              “Jaro, please!” Sasha moaned. “What did you find?”

              Still a bit offended by Sasha’s remark, Jaro looked at her but then became serious again.

              “Rumors. About me. They are discussed on several football forums if not all of them. They don’t seem to believe our stuff and there’s also this nightclub incident in Madrid, but it’s not my fault! The guys dragged me there and there are a few pictures. Nothing serious, I’m not kissing anybody. But some guys around me are. So –” Jaro studied the table cloth. Then he looked up at Sasha again.

              “Anyway. I think we should get married.”

              Sasha choked on her lasagna, restraining herself in a last-second gesture from spilling it all back onto her plate or worse, all over the neat table.

              “What?”

              As she looked at her fake boyfriend again, she faced a very serious Jaro. He also looked scared. Oh, dear, she thought. This can’t be happening. Sasha cast a glance out of the windows and observed the busy streets of Manhattan. Her heart rate seemed to have slowed down and her mouth was dry. Perhaps she should have seen it coming, when she had agreed to work with Jaro. It was the best arrangement for both of them. It was business. But during the past weeks, she had forgotten about Jaro’s existence as a fake lover. He had become a friend. But since she was thriving on the court again reporters had begun to focus more on her tennis and questions about her private life had been reduced to a minimum. For her there was no need to marry right now. She sighed.

              “A wedding,” he continued as if Sasha hadn’t understood. “This will make the rumors stop. Nothing big, just a small ceremony. The intimate kind, parents and close friends. We can still get a divorce in three years. But it’ll give time for the gossip to slow down and hopefully vanish once and for all. What do you think?”

              What did she think? She looked back at Jaro.

              “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice trailed off.

              Why had she agreed to go out for dinner with Jaro? Life had been good. It wasn’t her fault that he had been sighted in Rio. Who was he to come here and occupy her mind with his problems? But his problem was also hers, she suddenly realized. If he was caught partying in a gay club, people might begin to question the foundation of their relationship.

              It suddenly angered her. Whenever she was back on track focusing on tennis and on her career, something popped up to distract her. Whether it was Jaro or the Galloways or a certain chair umpire winking at her, it really looked like there was a conspiracy against her.

              “Jaro, I don’t think this is the right time to discuss this,” she said coldly. “If you will excuse me? I have to play a Grand Slam final tomorrow.”

              She got up and left the restaurant.

***

The bathroom wasn’t exactly luxurious, but it would do. The blonde girl had taken off her clothes and dipped her toe into the water. She giggled, then slipped into the tub and into Mint’s arms who was already lying in the hot water. What was her name again? Mint searched her mind but couldn’t remember. She would just call her ‘Babe’. She grinned. That should do just nicely, she thought, judging the blonde’s boobs.

              Since her loss in the third round a lot of things had happened in Mint’s life. Not only was she suddenly considered the new rising star of American tennis, who was mentioned in the same sentence as the Galloways, but as soon as she had collected her check with the prize money she had decided to get rid of her stepmother and have a blast with the money.

              She had secretly checked out of the hotel where she had been staying with her stepmom and had taken a room with Chili in a hotel that promised a lot more fun. Several doubles couples were staying there and together they had partied almost every night after their losses. Ignoring her stepmother’s phone calls she had decided to stay even longer in New York. She liked the city. There were a thousand good reasons not to go back to her parents’ home in South Carolina. One of the reasons just wriggled under her tickling hands. Suddenly the door was burst open and Chili stuck her head in.

              “You will dissolve in the water, if you stay much longer,” she grinned. “Come out and let’s see if the mattress can cope with four hot girls.”

              In the back, Mint heard the other girl scream excitedly in anticipation. She and Chili had picked up the two hotties in a lesbian club an hour ago.

              When they came out of the bathroom, Chili and the other girl were already making out on the bed. Mint pushed the blonde babe down onto the bedside. With skillful hands she unwrapped the towel and revealed the girl like a present. Just when she was about to go down on her a loud bang made the four girls jump. Something very heavy had fallen onto the little balcony. After the simultaneous gasps, they had all grown absolutely still, waiting for what would happen next. Behind the closed curtain they could make out the tall figure of a man stretching out after he had crouched down to soften the fall.

              “Oh my god,” Mint’s blonde whispered.

              “Shut up,” Chili hissed jumping out of the bed. She was completely naked.

              There was a tiny knock against the glass window from outside. Then an even louder one. The guy wanted to come in.

              “Go to the bathroom,” Mint told the other girls. She was the only one who had at least a towel wrapped around her. The others looked at her with panic in their eyes but Mint only waved her hand at them to hurry up. “I only want to see who it is. Then we can still call the reception desk for help.”

              With the other girls hidden from view, Mint stepped up to the balcony door and with a bold movement pulled the curtain away. She had prepared herself for almost every sight, but not for this year’s U.S. Open semifinalist, Ted Curry. After the initial surprise she opened the door quietly and gestured for him to come inside.

              “Thanks,” he whispered, peeping into the room. He seemed relieved that nobody else was to be seen. Then he grinned awkwardly but didn’t say another word as Mint had put a finger on her lips to gesture him to stay silent. He quickly moved to the door, opened it and peeked outside. Obviously the hotel corridor was empty. After a little nod at Mint he slipped outside the room and disappeared. Mint snorted in disbelief. Ted hadn’t even recognized her. Not that this was surprising. Even though Mint had made the headlines of a few newspapers after reaching the third round this had happened a week ago already and besides that, she was ranked in the Top 80 and rarely played the same tournaments as Ted except the Grand Slams.

              Stunned and amused by the incident Mint walked back to the balcony door. The night was cloudy and there was a thread of rain. She took the door handle and was about to close the door when she saw something shiny in the moonlight. She bent down and picked it up. It was a memory stick.

              When Chili opened the bathroom door and peeked outside Mint quickly slipped it in her bag that lay on the chair next to her.

              “Who was that?” Chili came out of the bathroom.

              “Just a drunk guy who fell out of his window,” Mint shrugged.

***

The window sill seemed to become more and more slippery, but Amanda knew that it was in fact due to her hands sweating. Millimeter by millimeter she slipped down further. Soon she wouldn’t be able hold on to the window sill anymore. Her breathing got faster. Hanging on the wall she wasn’t able to look down but she knew it would be a long fall. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she clutched the stone with every ounce of energy she had left in her body. Suddenly there was a sound above her head. Amanda looked up. Sasha was standing in the open window. Amanda cried out for help, but Sasha was only standing there, smiling down at the Australian. The Czech didn’t move. A horrible thought dawned on Amanda. Sasha would let her fall. She would watch her fall.

              I’ve never won a set against her. I have never won a set against Sasha. And when her fingers finally gave in and she fell backwards into the darkness, Amanda knew that she would never do so.

              Her own stifled scream woke her up and, after a short moment when she was lying in the dark hotel room realizing she’d been dreaming, Amanda tried to steady her breath and relax again. But the nightmare was hard to shake off. Even though she wasn’t hanging from a window sill her situation was just as futile. She’d never even taken a set off Sasha. Not once in five meetings. There was no reason to believe that Sasha wouldn’t make minced meat of Amanda once again tomorrow. Amanda sighed quietly. A quick look at her watch told her that it was 4:30 A.M. in the morning. She needed to go to sleep again.

              Amanda turned her head to the girl sleeping next to her. Elise was still here. She’d decided to stay after her loss. Amanda watched her for several minutes but Elise was sound asleep. Amanda’s disturbing dreams and scream had not woken her up. Underneath the blanket Amanda reached out her hand and slipped it under Elise’s arm between Elise’s hand and her stomach. It was heaving slightly with every breath.

              Amanda closed her eyes. Was her opponent awake or sleeping? Did Sasha have someone lying next to her right now? With every breath Amanda cared less about Sasha and felt more relaxed again. After a while she found herself breathing in unison with Elise, whose breath came slowly, rolling in like waves on the beach. And suddenly the bed felt like warm sand embracing her and Elise, and Amanda fell asleep in no time.

***

Tightening the bath towel around her body, Sasha stepped out of the bathroom. She was on time. As a matter of fact, she still had thirty minutes left before having to grab her bags and leave for Flushing Meadows. Everything was fine. She tried not to think of Jaro and his proposal that had ruined her dinner last night. She wasn’t nervous, was she? Again she was in a Grand Slam final and this time she felt certain that she would win. She sat down on the sofa going through her game plan once more, when she suddenly saw a movement in the corner of her eye. A brown envelope – pretty large – was lying on the ground by the door. Curious, she went to pick it up and heading back to the sofa, she ripped it open and took out a sheet of paper.

              “Fuck,” she whispered. It was a print of a picture. It was a picture of her and one of the Galloways. Sasha lost her balance, taken by surprise and the awkward feeling that came when she realized that someone had apparently been observing her. She grabbed the chair and sat down to breathe in deeply. What was it supposed to mean? Who had taken this picture? She couldn’t remember seeing anyone who had followed her. In the picture she was looking at one of the Galloways.

              Taking a closer look, she had to admit that the photo was hilarious. There she was in her spy outfit, her eyes focused on the American players. But there was something else that almost made her crack up in surprise. She couldn’t really believe what she was seeing in the picture. Her look was full of adoration, longing and desire. Of course, Sasha knew better but that would be the exact interpretation of the picture. She really seemed to be head over heels in love with the Galloway twin who was standing a few feet in front of her.

              Was this an attempt to blackmail her? It wasn’t exactly a good picture for putting pressure on her. It might cause a snicker but Sasha doubted that it was enough to get the rumors going again. Whoever you are, you have to get better at following me, she thought. The only thing in the last few months that was worthy of blackmail was probably the incident in Cincinnati at the vending machine but it had been at night and nobody had witnessed it except for the one she had kissed.

              “Damn,” Sasha let her head sink onto her chest. She really had to clear her mind. It was not a good time to think about Lulu.

              Suddenly a thought crossed her mind. Perhaps this was a plot by the Galloways. Perhaps they had set it up to lure her into a trap? But why? Panic invaded her, rushing through her like a hot sandstorm. She turned the picture around with shaky hands. Nothing. Nothing had been written on it. Grabbing the envelope, she checked it, too, but again there was no hint of who was behind this. No inscription as was common for blackmail.

              No, she thought. It couldn’t be the Galloways. They had no reason to blackmail her. At least Gabriella had been able to beat her on the court in their last matches. Besides that, they had been out of the tournament for several days now and had most probably left New York City already.

              This must have been someone else’s doing. But who? Sasha sighed. This was exactly what she didn’t need before a match. She shook her head angrily. She didn’t have time for this. Actually, she couldn’t even afford to let her mind focus on anything other than the forthcoming Grand Slam final.

              Why would anybody want to prove to her that she was apparently in love with one of the Galloways? Who would be interested in her life like that? Who was still in New York? Not too many players to be honest. There were the guys who would play the final tomorrow, but she was sure they had nothing to do with this. Several doubles finalists were still in town. But she had never played doubles, and didn’t have any friends let alone foes in the doubles circles.

              The only other female player still in Flushing Meadows was Amanda Auster, her opponent in the women’s final. But even though they were not close, they had always respected each other. Also, this was not Amanda’s game style. She wouldn’t resort to such a scheme to put Sasha off. No, it must have been someone else, and it was none of the players. But who was it then? Who might have a grudge or another reason to hurt her? Had she accidentally stepped on someone’s toes without noticing?

              She couldn’t think of anyone, even though she had the feeling she’d overlooked a clue. But finally she shrugged. Time to win a match, she thought. After Wimbledon it was her second Grand Slam final of the year and she had no intention of being runner-up a second time. Amanda Auster should be easy enough. How on earth she’d made it to the final after such a mediocre year was beyond Sasha’s wit. But there was nothing to worry about. The Australian had never beaten her in all their previous meetings. She had not even managed to take a set off her. Sasha exhaled.

***

It wasn’t a crappy start, Amanda thought. Yes, she had just lost the first set, as expected, but she wasn’t playing badly. Or was she fooling herself? She had tried to find excuses and explanations every time Sasha had beaten her in the past – weather, little injuries, a full tournament schedule or a too rigid training plan. However, deep inside she knew better. Sasha simply was the greater player – ruthless and imposing in the way she took the court, calm and cold-blooded when it mattered.

              Amanda squared her shoulders and breathed in deeply but to no avail. She was useless against Sasha. She’d never even won a set against her and if she kept on playing like this she never would. She had seen it coming. The fear of being humiliated again and being unable to find means against Sasha’s onslaught was crushing her. Leaning back on her chair Amanda closed her eyes. The chatter of a thousand spectators was surrounding her. In the midst of the noise she could hear Elise’s voice, her face being right next to Amanda’s.

              Elise had planted a kiss on her cheek. Amanda could still feel the touch on her face, like she did back then in Stuttgart.

              “Have fun out there. Enjoy it,” Elise had whispered into her ear when they were standing in the catacombs of Arthur Ashe Stadium. Amanda had felt that Elise was terribly proud of her for reaching the final and now her words echoed in her head. Joy. Sometimes she couldn’t find any when playing, but after the drought of the summer reaching a final was a huge success, she had to admit. And even if she couldn’t win it she wanted to play her best, she thought. For her team who believed in her and supported her. For Dan. For Elise.

              The Australian looked up at her box to the left and spotted her girlfriend there. Elise must have noticed that Amanda was looking at her direction because all of a sudden, she waved at her. It was only a little movement with her wrist. No one would have been able to understand that the wave was directed toward Amanda. However, as soon as Amanda wondered about that, Elise seemed to become even bolder. With a shy grin she bent over her hand and after looking around to check if someone was watching she blew Amanda a kiss.

              How daring was that? Amanda quickly turned her head back to the court but couldn’t help but chuckle. No girlfriend had ever done this before. Not back in the days of small challenger tournaments and certainly not on the big stages.               Elise had to be crazy, Amanda thought.

              A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Elise was still looking and still smiling at her. This time Amanda smiled back at her. Elise wasn’t naïve or careless. She knew what was at stake if the relationship was made public and still she would blow Amanda a kiss across Arthur Ashe where some thousand people could spot the gesture. Yes, she knew what was at stake and that made it special. She was fearless and all of a sudden Amanda understood why. Elise not only thoroughly trusted Amanda’s feelings – but she trusted her own feelings for Amanda.

              The break was over and Amanda got up and walked to the baseline. For one last time she looked up at her box and her girlfriend. Elise was still there, still smiling with encouragement. Her mouth was moving and Amanda could make out a silent ‘Come on’.

              Turning to one of the ball boys to give him the towel she had to smile to herself while reminding herself to remain focused on the match. It wasn’t over yet.

***

“That’s all you can wish for a Grand Slam final,” Hugh said excitedly.

              “Yes,” Sam agreed. “You could have asked anybody here and they would have told you that Auster would go down in flames in this match, and it certainly looked like it after the first set. But she has braced herself and now you can see why she made it all the way to the final.”

              It was an excellent second set so far and Amanda was playing her game with beautiful strong shots and smart movement, and unlike the first set never let Sasha dictate the play. They each had held serve until 3-3. But then the Australian player had broken the Czech for the first time in this match, and for the first time Sasha had taken her racquet and hit it on the ground in anger.

              “Auster’s composure after losing that first set seems to have baffled Sasha.”

              The commentators watched the players walk to their chairs for the change-over. Sasha suddenly looked anxious and tight.  Sat on her chair she was tapping with her feet and clutching the water bottle. Once in a while she looked over to the Australian.

              “After Sasha had won all her matches in straight sets everyone tipped the three-time Grand Slam champion to take another trophy home today. But perhaps the tide has changed?”

              “Auster did a great job putting pressure on Mrachova’s second serve and Mrachova had problems holding her serve throughout the second set. It’s not a surprise that she got broken at last,” Sam spoke into the microphone. “However, I’m a bit surprised by Mrachova’s attitude. It’s unlike her to so emotive, let alone so negative.”

              Hugh nodded. “You could sense that she was startled by the battle Amanda Auster put on. That one challenge she made in the third game was completely hilarious. She must have seen that Amanda’s shot was right on the line and she challenged nevertheless. It was clearly to put the Aussie off and get a grip on Auster’s serve.”

              The players walked back onto the court and Amanda took some balls to serve.

              “Auster doesn’t have a good record of holding serve in important games this year,” Hugh stated. “And this is a very important game.” If Amanda could hold for 5-3, Sasha had to serve to stay in the set.

              Amanda’s first serve was a pin-point ace on the T line. The Czech didn’t even have time to move into the direction of the serve.

              “219 miles,” Sam exclaimed. “That’s a good way to start when you want to hold.”

              With another good serve and Sasha’s return landing in the net, Amanda Auster led 30-0. Amanda was about to go over to the other serving side, but Sasha raised her hand to chair umpire Anastasia Stea.

              “She is challenging the call,” Hugh said in surprise.

              “Well, the serve was clearly in. Either there is something wrong with her eyesight, or – ,” Sam  began.

              “She’s doing it again. She’s trying to break Auster’s rhythm,” Hugh finished Sam’s thought.

              They both stared down onto the court in wonder. Sasha had never resorted to the little tricks tennis players once in a while used to put an opponent off like taking a long bathroom break, or repeatedly catching the tossed ball. This behavior was very unusual.

              “There you go,” Sam sighed, when the video screen showed that Amanda’s serve was well within the service box. “That was her third bad challenge.”

              “No challenges left for Mrachova,” Hugh explained into the microphone. “But she might get a warning soon for racquet abuse.”

Down on the court Sasha had hit her racquet onto the ground again. She shouted angry words at herself but when she had to serve to stay in the set she managed to hold.

              “5-4,” Sam stated. “Now, can Auster take this match into a deciding set?”

              She could. Three minutes and two aces later, pumping her fist, Amanda went back to her chair with a little jog. She had just won the second set.

***

Against all expectations she had not crumbled against the mighty Sasha Mrachova nor had she given in to the pressure of playing a Grand Slam final. After the lost first set the crowd got behind Amanda and, as the match moved on, was awed by her ruthless shotmaking. Every time she had won a point, she had let the roar of the stadium wrap her up. In this fortnight she had gained a lot of fans.

              It was strange. With a little gesture Elise had freed her mind. As if the blown kiss and the wave of Elise’s hand had magically touched the whole stadium and made it her home, it had brought a calmness Amanda never had before. In the past it had made her nervous when her girlfriend were in the stands cheering for her but now it inspired her to play even better. But Elise wasn’t expecting a win. She just wanted Amanda to play her game and relish the occasion while Elise sat in her box adoring her play on the biggest stage of the tennis world. And here she was, face-to-face with her nemesis in the vastness of Arthur Ashe Stadium, but Amanda who had always been awfully careful to hide her emotions and who would discourage her girlfriends from publicly displaying any affection toward her felt secure.

              After the second set there had been a quick exchange of words between Sasha and the chair umpire. Amanda had not been able to understand the words as Sasha had anrily hissed them at Anastasia Stea. She clearly was overwhelmed by finally losing a set to Amanda. Throughout the entire set break Amanda had been trying to surpress a huge grin. At last she had taken a set off the Czech. At last. Perhaps she could win another one? Everything seemed possible suddenly.

              The third set had become a close affair, too. Neither of the players let go and most of the games went to deuce multiple times. Amanda could sense Sasha’s anger spreading over the stadium and reaching out for her with every shot that Sasha smacked over the net.

              It was 3-4 and Amanda knew she needed to hold at all costs. But Sasha had found a way to return Amanda’s serves and dictate the play again, hitting her groundstrokes into the corners unable for Amanda to reach. And finally Sasha had a break point on Amanda’s serve. Standing at the baseline, Amanda breathed in deeply. If she got broken in this game it would be over. She knew it. Everyone knew it. The stadium seemed to have gone completely silent.

              Amanda hit an excellent serve to Sasha’s backhand but the Czech was able to return it, even though it fell short in the front of the Amanda’s side of the court. Amanda rushed forward and smashed it back into the court, but sprinting across the concrete Sasha was able to get her racquet on the ball. It flew up high over Amanda’s head. There wasn’t that much a player could do against a lob when standing that close to the net. Most of the times Amanda only watched it fly. Either it landed in or it was wide. But this time she ran back to the baseline while watching the ball descend. Just when it landed right on the line, Amanda reached it, took a leap and hit it back through her legs. It landed in the open court and Sasha was unable to get to it. The Czech was simply standing there watching the ball.

              The amazing shot had sent the crowd to their feet. They were cheering and screaming down to the court. Amanda could feel the adrenaline in her fingertips. She won the next two points to hold.

              And then she won the next four points to break Sasha Mrachova to love. It was 5-3.

              When Amanda sat down in her chair she looked across the court. Three minutes were a long time. She tried to clear her mind and calm her breath. But her hands felt shaky suddenly. She was so close. Closer than she’d ever thought she would be. She could actually win a match against none other than Sasha Mrachova. It would happen to be a Grand Slam final.

              “Time.”

              Anastasia Stea’s voice sounded as unaffected as ever and without waiting another second, the Australian player stood up, then reached the baseline jogging under the applause every player received when serving for a match.

***

Anastasia Stea entered the restaurant and looked around but the other five female chair umpires had already spotted her and waved for her to come over. Anastasia was one of the youngest umpires that worked on the tour, but she was one of the best. The match today had been only the second Grand Slam final she had called, but everyone had assured her that it wouldn’t be the last. Even after the strange and nasty incident with Sasha she was sure that this was only the beginning. There were many more Grand Slam finals to come.

              But as soon as she had sat down, the others were inquiring about the call that had stirred up Sasha’s emotions and was already being heatedly discussed in the media.

              “I overturned a call that would have given Sasha break point,” Anastasia explained.

              “Why didn’t she challenge your call?”

              “She had no challenges left. She had already challenged four times in the second set. She was right in only one case.”

              When Sasha was unable to do anything about Anastasia’s overrule she had walked up to the umpire chair and had begun to argue with Anastasia.

              Anastasia had stayed calm but at one point Sasha had suddenly paused. For a short moment she had looked at the ground, contemplating, then she had looked up to the umpire again.

              “You,” she had hissed with a little laugh. “I should have seen it coming. It’s you, first with your winks, now this.”

              Anastasia knew that during a match emotions could heat up and that the players didn’t mean any of their words personally. But in this case it was different. Sasha’s words were not only inappropriate but to Anastasia she had clearly hinted at the intimate encounter the player and the umpire had had some months earlier in Eastbourne. Sasha seemed angry at Anastasia and it had nothing to do with the tennis match. The outburst had been embarrassing and Anastasia only hoped that no one would question the remarks, but this behavior was highly unusual for Sasha, who was not known for getting emotional or even indignant towards the umpires or lines people. “Insane to say these things right in front of the microphones,” commented Lynn Pebblestone. “I wonder what was going on in her head.”

              “You know it was only one night, right? Nothing more. I thought it was fine with her.” Anastasia looked around the table. “You also know that I don’t mix business with pleasure. Whatever she might have been thinking, my calls were absolutely correct.” She swallowed.

              “Oh, don’t worry, honey,” Camilla Sanchez said. “I saw the match and she played poorly right from the start of the second set. It had nothing to do with your calls. She just wanted to let off steam because she was losing.”

              “Yes, looks like it,” Anastasia wondered but wasn’t convinced. Whenever Sasha was down in a match she would become even more competitive and emulous. She never let off steam, she used it instead to up her game. Also, Sasha would never mix business with pleasure either. This incident was very strange, and she couldn’t find a convincing explanation for it. Well, perhaps the others were right. This was a Grand Slam final and Sasha got emotional as she was determined to win it. Anastasia shrugged and turned her attention back to the other umpires.

              “For a moment I thought Sasha was back in the match,” Lynn mused. “It looked like she wanted to steamroll over Amanda.”

              “Yes, it was really wonderful to see how calm Amanda stayed,” Camilla said. “I’m really happy for her. She absolutely deserved that win.”

              “Speaking of Amanda,” Anastasia grinned. “Has anyone else seen the kiss Elise blew Amanda in between the first and the second sets.”

              “Yes,” Camilla giggled. “So cheeky. Don’t you just love that girl?” The umpires laughed. Everyone was pretty sure that Amanda and Elise would win the award for cutest couple at the end of the season.

              “I bet no one saw that connection coming,” Anastasia shook her head. “At least I didn’t. I was really taken by surprise when I first learned that they would play doubles. But that they would become a couple? Never.”

              She looked around. All the other umpires were confirming her surprise by shaking their heads. Only Lynn looked smug.

              “Well, you’ll find out soon enough, so I may as well tell you,” Lynn said. “I’ve placed my bet on them.”

              The other umpires stared at Lynn, but then accepted the fact that the Welsh umpire had once again outplayed them.

              “That’s so typical,” Camilla sighed. “How do you do that? Why do you always know?”

              “Good eyesight,” Lynn explained. “I had the feeling that at the very least Elise had had a crush on Amanda for a long time. But sometimes it takes time and I thought that after the injury she would become more mature, and I think I was right.”

              The others nodded with admiration. Yes, Elise really had grown up. She seemed to be a good match for Amanda. Today’s win was Amanda’s greatest success so far, and the umpire couldn’t help but wonder if part of it had to do with Elise and her positive influence on Amanda.

***

The music was too loud and the counter was sticky. Moving uncomfortably in the bar stool Tom glanced over to the woman who had dragged him out tonight. He had complained and pleaded having a headache but Candice wouldn’t have it. She owed him for the video he had made for the WTA about Monica and Agnes and was determined to cheer him up. Candice was nice, and she thought his bad mood was still the result of his break-up.

              Monica, Agnes and Candice were having a good time on the dance floor. The girls were thrilled and they had good reason to be. Monica and Agnes had won their doubles finals. They were the brand new US Open champions. And that was big, proving one more time they were quite the effective team of the moment. All of a sudden, an old disco tune pierced the air turning the whole nightclub upside down. Grabbing his hand, Candice winked at him.

              “C’mon, young boy! Come with me on the dance floor and start the hottie hunt!” Hottie hunt? Tom shook his head and his boss went back to the dance floor to her girlfriend and Monica.

              He couldn’t let go of his misery, couldn’t forget about it. The fact that he had lost all his evidence was puzzling him. Good-bye photos, notes, analysis. Mission failed. What had happened to his files? When he had realized that all the files were gone he had first thought of a virus on his computer. But a check-up wouldn’t confirm that. It was strange. The whole folder that contained all the pictures and notes was gone. Nothing else however. He finally concluded that all the evidence Tom had regrouped over the past months had been stolen from him. Stolen.

              Tom looked at the bottom of his glass. Besides Ted he hadn’t talked to anybody about his blog. Someone knew about him, about what he was doing. Someone might have seen him taking the pictures. It was the only possible explanation. Perhaps the Galloways? Or could it be Ted after all? Of course, Ted could have told someone else.

              Tom looked up only to see Monica Jordan, who had approached the other end of the counter to get a drink. She was quite the character with a wonderful humor. Tom liked her, just as he liked Candice and Agnes. Everyone was so nice and friendly to him. Tom bit his lip as doubts began to creep in. Too friendly? Why were all these doubles players so nice with him, suddenly? Did they know something they shouldn’t? Did they know about his blog? He shook his head and watched Monica maneuvering through the guests with three cocktail glasses. The three women had settled down on a table and were chatting. Could it be that his assignment to work with the doubles players was a trap set up by Candice? Had Ted talked to her?

              He tried to recall his conversations with the doubles pairs and suddenly he realized that he had told Antonia and Martina about Ted and himself. He had tried to guide the conversation to find out about other gay and lesbian players but the two players wouldn’t tell him. They had suddenly become awfully guarded. Yes, now that he thought about it, they had become suspicious and had refused to talk about it. As if they knew what he was up to or just needed confirmation that he was indeed looking for information.

              Tom moaned in frustration but no one heard it in the loud club. He had given away his secret. He had not been careful enough. His straw hit the bottom of his glass and Tom realized that one drink wouldn’t be enough tonight. He needed more, a lot more.

***

“It’s been ages since I’ve been out that late,” Amanda laughed. She clung to Elise who hadn’t drunk that much but still had trouble opening the hotel room door.

              “You’ll make us fall,” Elise giggled.

              “I wouldn’t mind falling on you,” Amanda slurred her words.

              As soon as they had entered the room Amanda fell head-on onto the bed. Finally the excitement of winning a Grand Slam had tapered off and the exhaustion of the last two weeks had taken its toll

              “Are you sleeping already?” Elise asked.

              “Yes,” Amanda answered. “I’m dead.”

              “I've heard that before,” Elise said with a smile. Amanda rolled over and smiled at Elise. They both recalled the night a week ago after Amanda’s fourth round win and had to grin.

              “Come on, sleepyhead,” Elise murmured and gestured for Amanda to lift her arms over her head. Slowly she undressed her girlfriend and put her in her pyjamas before slipping under the blanket with her. Amanda closed her eyes.

              This was their first quiet moment together since they had said good-bye in the locker room and Elise had told her to enjoy herself. It seemed like a lifetime ago. And indeed her life had changed in the last few hours. Suddenly, in the quietness of the room, all the emotions that had had time to build up rushed through her blood like a wild river flooding the heart. It had been beating for so long, driven to fulfill this dream of hers. It had been full of fear and sorrow whenever she had failed in the past. And suddenly she had reached and fulfilled her childhood dream. Yes, it was as good as she had imagined it would be.

              Without noticing it, she had begun to sob. Only when Elise sat up she realized that she was crying.

              “What’s up?” Elise asked. But when Elise put her arms around her, she began to sob even harder. With closed eyes, Amanda shook her head. Elise waited.

              “I just can’t believe how lucky I got.”

              “Lucky?” Elise gave her a squeeze. “You know it wasn’t luck? You earned that win.”

              But Amanda had been talking about something else. Something that she now realized had changed her more than a Grand Slam win ever would.

              “I don’t mean the match,” she said solemnly. “I mean you.”

              They sat there for a while not speaking a word. But when Amanda still sobbed from time to time Elise gave her another squeeze.

              “Well, I guess that is true,” she said with a serious tone. “You really should consider yourself lucky. You are in bed with a Wimbledon quarterfinalist!” She nodded to herself to underline her point.

              “Quarterfinalist?” Amanda snorted. “I’m the U.S. Open champion!”

              Elise grinned. “See? No reason to cry.” Elise had a fine sense for humor and she was right. Amanda had every reason to be happy. Here she was, a new Grand Slam champion, in bed with a gorgeous Grand Slam quarterfinalist. It really couldn’t get any better.

Tokyo, Japan

              “For next year we will figure out a schedule that suits both of us,” Elise said smiling from the screen. Amanda sat in front of her computer and nodded. She missed Elise. They had barely had any time to themselves since Amanda had won the U.S. Open. The new champion was in constant demand by TV stations and newspapers who wanted to run stories on her and her win. Since she had returned back home to Australia there had been even greater demands on her.

              Tokyo seemed like a welcome peace after all the preceding tightly scheduled days.

              “Should be easy with your ranking now,” Amanda contemplated. Elise had entered the Top 30 just before the Open due to good runs in the last tournaments.

              Just when they wanted to start talking about the tournaments they would play Amanda’s mobile rang. She checked the number.

              “Some European number,” she wondered.

              Who could that be?

              But as soon as she answered the phone she wished she hadn’t.

              “Amanda,” Ted Curry’s voice sounded pressed. “I’m so glad I finally reached you!”

              “I’m in Tokyo, Ted.” Amanda looked at her computer screen. Elise was waiting on the other end. “This will cost you a fortune, so you better make it short.”

              “I don’t care how much it costs,” Ted said. “I wanted to tell you something, but you were so busy and unavailable in New York.”

              “I was busy winning a Grand Slam, Ted.”

              “Yes, yes,” he said apologetically. “Congratulations, by the way. But this is more important.”

              Amanda looked over to Elise and shrugged her shoulders.

              “The files I took from Tom’s computer,” Ted continued. “They are gone. I lost them.”

              “You lost them?” Amanda was getting annoyed. All the drama and climbing through hotel room windows was in vain?

              “It must have happened as I was jumped from the window sill. Or perhaps when I was running outside,” Ted contemplated. “ You were not there, so I had to take a taxi. I could have lost it in there. I was so stressed-out.”

              “You mean, anybody could have the files now?”

              “Yes,” Ted answered. “Anybody.”

              “So, were they as risqué as you thought they would be.”

              Amanda had to admit she never really believed Tom was gathering evidence, as Ted had called it. Why would he want to harm the players? He worked for them, after all.

              “Yes, yes.” Ted’s voice broke into sobs. Amanda couldn’t believe it.

              “Listen, Ted,” she finally said. “I’m on the phone with Elise. Let’s talk about this another time. It’s quite possible that nobody found your memory stick. It probably just got lost and no one has it.”

              “Yes,” Ted was still crying.

              Amanda hated leaving him like that, but Elise was waiting on the video call giving her questioning looks. After saying good-bye to Ted she turned to Elise again, shaking her head.

              “So, he lost the evidence,” she stated. “Not that I believe there was any. He’s just a bit paranoid because Tom likes him.”

              “Tom?” Elise was surprised. “I was wondering about that ever since Ted said Tom was stalking him. That’s ridiculous. He is so nice.”

              “I know,” Amanda replied. “They would actually make a cute couple, what do you think?”

              “Yes,” Elise grinned. “We should set them up somehow.”

***

“I don’t know what to order,” Agnes said. She looked through the menu again, but it was all Japanese to her. With a swift hand movement Morgana snatched the menu from Agnes’s hands.

              “Let me take a look,” replied Morgana who had invited Agnes, her fellow French player out for dinner.

              She had chosen the famous Yamasuki Fugu restaurant that served Japanese haute cuisine and it had surprised Agnes, as Morgana had never seemed interested in making friends with the other French players. But being the older Fed Cup player Agnes felt a responsibility towards her younger team mates, even towards Morgana who always seemed so independent and aloof.

              Agnes watched Morgana closely while she was studying the menu. Apparently she understood the Japanese characters. The younger player let her finger wander over the menu, moved her lips and once in a while nodded. When the waiter approached she shut the menu and looked up at the young man.

              “Watashi wa fugu o chūmon suru,” Morgana said in what sounded like perfect Japanese. “Robusutā tenpura, to sake no bin. Korera no josei no tame no onaji.” She made a gesture towards Agnes, and the older player assumed that Morgana was ordering for her, too, which seemed like a good idea.

              As soon as the saké arrived they settled into a pleasant conversation about the French team in the Fed Cup competition next year.

              “I’ve thought about some useful training methods,” Morgana remarked. “Let’s say practice matches for mental toughness, qui? Two teams with two players each. Two singles matches, one doubles match. But only one set to play. So there is the pressure of a deciding set. But not only winning the set counts but also the shotmaking.”

              She took a sip from the small cup. Agnes had begun to listen carefully.

              “Let’s say, one player must win five points with dropshots, and the other with backhands down the line,” Morgana said.

              She looked up, straight into Agnes’s eyes.

              “For winning these points with selected shots they get bonus points. Winning the set 6-4 you get twenty bonus points. Winning it 6-2 you get forty. We might have our very own ranking system within our team.”

              She beamed at Agnes but in her eyes was an observant alertness. Agnes managed to hold her gaze but had grown very still. How in the world did Morgana know about the rules of Task Tennis?

              The young woman was certainly an expert regarding Tennis Nurse novels but the books only referred to the game Agnes and her fellow players had invented back in the day. It was never explained nor were the rules written down.

              “This sounds very interesting,” Agnes said in a neutral voice. “Let’s talk to Bertrand about it.”

              She was sure that their Fed Cup captain would dismiss the idea. Of course, he would, and Agnes was relieved by the thought. Task Tennis and all the memories of it belonged to the past. It would only cause tears to bring it up again.

              The food arrived, and Agnes couldn’t believe her eyes.

              “Blowfish?” Agnes hesitated. “Isn’t blowfish very dangerous?”

              “Only if prepared carelessly,” Morgana said. “Then it can be lethal.” She began to eat, but Agnes almost choked on her saké.

              “I can’t believe you ordered that,” she said vehemently and pushed the plate away a little.

              “This is a famous restaurant,” Morgana said in-between bites. “It wouldn’t be if they killed their customers.”

              “Perhaps today is the first time,” Agnes could only stare at Morgana, whose fish didn’t seem poisoned. Maybe the poison didn’t kill instantly.

              “The probability is very small,” Morgana mumbled. She looked up to the ceiling beginning to calculate the correct percentage.

              With a last look Agnes stared at the blowfish, then decided to go for the tempura. Morgana was really one of a kind. Agnes only hoped that she wouldn’t uncover the hidden blowfish in the Tennis Nurse universe. That one would be lethal indeed, Agnes was certain.

***

“You don’t have to wait for me,“ Mint said. She placed her bag on a chair and looked around for a free treadmill.

              “Someone must watch you, young lady,” Evelina Rickenbacher replied. She overlooked the gym and frowned. Mint followed her gaze. There was Gabriella Galloway doing her warm-up routines next to Polly Duke, who looked very sweaty doing pull-ups.

              Evelina clearly didn’t belong in this world but after Mint’s getaway in New York City she was determined to keep an eye on her stepdaughter. This meant that Mint, when not busy with practice, working out in the gym or physio, was being taken on shopping sprees around the city. She ended up carrying all the bags back to the hotel rooms which were connected by a door which had to stay open. To make things worse, due to her lower ranking Chili wasn’t playing Tokyo but the European tournaments instead.

              Putting on her earphones, Mint stepped onto a treadmill and began her daily work-out, while Evelina Rickenbacher sat down in one of the chairs a little further away where she wasn’t disturbed by smelly, sweaty athletes.

              Since she had landed in Tokyo Mint hadn’t spoken to her best friend once, due to the time difference but also because she was never alone. Even in the evenings she wasn’t allowed to leave her room and she didn’t want to talk to Chili when Evelina was in the next room and able to overhear her conversation.

              Why hadn’t she bothered to learn Spanish when she had the opportunity? It could have been their secret language. The desperation brought tears to her eyes. Brushing them away she began to run faster.

              She didn’t see Natsumi approaching and when the Japanese player poked her in the side Mint almost jumped off the treadmill in surprise.

              “Hello,” Natsumi laughed while stepping onto the next treadmill.

              “Hey,” Mint tried to smile at the Japanese player. She had always been nice to Mint and for a while had been taking her and Chili under her wings.

              “What’s up?” Natsumi must have noticed her affliction, but she was smart enough to understand that it had to do with Mint’s new watch dog. She kept on smiling.

              “I can’t go anywhere,” Mint replied under her breath and without looking up at Natsumi. “She won’t let me out of the hotel room.”

              Natsumi seemed rendered speechless by these revelations. She didn’t say a word but when they finished the treadmill session she gestured for Mint to listen.

              “Let’s go over to your stepmom,” Natsumi suggested. “Just nod. Whatever I say. Ok?”

              Mint looked back at Evelina Rickenbacher. She didn’t want Natsumi to go over to her. It made her uneasy to even think of Evelina would getting to know one of Mint’s gay friends, let alone the craziest of all of them.

              “Mrs. Rickenbacher,” Natsumi smiled at Evelina.

              She folded her hands and made a little greeting bow in front of Mint’s stepmom. Mint was surprised. Natsumi’s English was flawless, but now she spoke with a very bad, unidentifiable Asian accent.

              “So good to see Mint. So good,” Natsumi said with a smile. She was still nodding her head. “Mint always very nice.”

              Mint couldn’t believe her ears. But Evelina was delighted with the young and polite Japanese.

              “I want to invite Mint for traditional Japanese dinner,” Natsumi continued. “Tonight. With my family. Very nice.”

              Evelina hesitated but then she looked at Natsumi and Mint knew exactly what was going on in her stepmother’s head. Categorizing Natsumi as “harmless Asian” she finally gave her permission for a night out.

***

Observing a blister on her hand, Angela sat down in a chair and let out a long sigh. Stephanie laughed. They had just hit for an hour and relaxed courtside.

              “What’s up?” she teased Angela. “Missing Rufino?”

              “Oh, please,” Angela laughed. “I tried long enough. I really need to take advantage of the off-season to find another object of desire. This season has been absolutely disappointing regarding to guys.”

              Stephanie nodded. “You want one of mine? They are so irritating. I even consider going lesbian.” She laughed out loudly and Angela joined in. Sometimes the gay girls seemed to have advantages on the tour if only for dating chances. “Have you notice how Elise has changed? She used to be so shy off court.” The two German girls took a moment to think about young Elise.

              “She did,” Angela said with a smile. “Amanda is really good for her. But they are not really cautious about it, aren’t they? I guess, they are just really happy and don’t care.”

              Stephanie put her feet up on her bag then crossed her legs. The break would obviously last a bit longer than planned.

              “Pretty gutsy,” she admitted. It was definitely not what Stephanie had expected from Elise.

              “I wonder how their managements view the relationship,” Angela pondered. “This would be big, if word got out, don’t you think?”

              Stephanie nodded. “Elise is doing great at the moment. She could reach the Top 20 soon and Amanda’s a Grand Slam champion now. So the press might be interested in both of them.”

              “Yes,” Angela agreed. “When was the last time two highly ranked players had a known relationship?”

              “That would be a precedent,” Stephanie said. “This has never happened before.”

***

“Hello!” Gabriella Galloway was standing in the almost empty restaurant of the players’ hotel and waving to Morgana but the French player seemed engrossed in her studies and didn’t look up. On her table several piles of books were leaving only the tiniest space for a coffee mug and a plate with a sandwich.

              “Morgana!” Gabriella yelled over the table and this time the loud exclamation made Morgana jump. Startled, she let go of her pen which landed at her feet. Gabriella bent over to pick it up.

              “I’m sorry I didn’t want to scare you,” she said sitting down opposite Morgana. “What are you doing?”

              Morgana took a deep breath and looked at her friend.

              “Working on Tennis Nurse. I had a very interesting conversation with Agnes. Do you want know about it?”

              Gabriella barely had time to nod before Morgana took a deep breath and began explaining her latest discoveries.

              “Agnes pretended to know nothing about Task Tennis,” Morgana exclaimed. “I confronted her with some of the rules but she wouldn’t admit to knowing them. But I know she does.” Morgana paused. She waited for Gabriella to inquire further about her investigations. Gabriella thought she would do Morgana the favor.

              “How?”

              “By comparing the handwriting,” Morgana spouted immediately. “I have found out that the person who wrote down the rules of Task Tennis is none other than Agnes Lion.”

              Gabriella checked her watch. She was running late already.

“I guess the central piece is Monica,” Morgana continued without looking up. “You know these stories aren’t pure coincidences. They’re about us. Monica knows the author. I’m absolutely sure of that. She must be the one who provides the author with all the details about the players.”

              Gabriella sighed. All she wanted was to ask Morgana for another Tennis Nurse novel. She didn’t want to hear a lecture about Morgana’s strange research.

              “Gabriella, what are you doing? The court’s available! We don’t have it for the whole day.” Gabriella turned around. Her hitting partner was waiting there by the door, two big racquet bags at his feet. She shot him an angry look. Why would he draw attention to her at the very moment when she was about to borrow a Tennis Nurse novel. Getting up, Gabriella apologized to Morgana. “I’m sorry, I have to go. We’ll catch up on that later, okay?”

              Morgana nodded. She was already concentrating on her research again. Gabriella figured the French woman didn’t want to waste time with chatting. Too much information was boiling in her head now and she was probably afraid to forget some if she didn’t write it all down immediately.

              “Would you mind if I borrowed a novel?” Gabriella nonetheless asked. “I’m done with the last one and I have nothing to read right now.”

              Morgana followed her friend’s gaze to the several Tennis Nurse books put down on the table near the bag the French player took everywhere with her. Morgana shrugged and grabbed one before handing it to the American.

              “Sure. Take this one. It’s a new one,” she said absentmindedly.

              Gabriella smiled brightly. She was about to leave when Morgana suddenly leaned back, looking at the American.

              “So, you are Gabriella,” she stated thoughtfully, more to herself than to the Galloway. Shooting Gabriella a last look she turned back to her novel.

***

Waiting for Natsumi, who was chatting up a girl at the entrance of the sushi restaurant, Amanda and Mint looked at each other and grinned.

              “I can’t believe that of all girls, the one your stepmother trusts is Natsumi,” Amanda snorted. “Just look at her!”

              Mint chuckled. She had her hands in the pockets of her jeans, was leaning against the wall and looking in Natsumi’s direction. She was sure that within a minute the player would come back with a new phone number in her directory.

              “What can I say? Natsumi played the role of the sweet Japanese girl to perfection.”

              Amanda laughed, still shaking her head in disbelief. Natsumi said good-bye to her new acquaintance and turned around. 

              “Alright, ladies. I’m starving!”

              It was time for a traditional Japanese dinner, as Natsumi had advertised it when she had invited Amanda. With her usual exuberance, Natsumi pushed the door open and entered the restaurant followed by Amanda and Mint. The lobby, like the rest of the place from what they could tell, was plunged in semi darkness and traditional music. While Natsumi was giving her name to the hostess, Mint turned towards Amanda. She was looking at the menu on the wall.

              “What is this Nyo-thing? It seems they have nothing else,” she wondered. “I only know California rolls.”

              Amanda shrugged her shoulders. As much as she loved Japanese cuisine, she couldn’t remember having seen any Nyotaimori on a menu before.

              “She told me we would get a very special sushi. Perhaps a local fish?”

              Natsumi turned around to them and gestured for them to follow the hostess, who led them to their table. As she looked around, Amanda recognized that it was indeed a strange restaurant. Besides the lack of light that made it hard to see the slightest thing, heavy curtains seemed to separate every table in a way that prevented her from seeing customers and dishes.

              When the hostess stopped at one curtain, Amanda grew uncomfortable. Natsumi’s big grin implied that Amanda would probably be unable to tell anyone about this evening. The Japanese girl lifted the curtain and motioned for the group to step inside, and one look at the table confirmed for Amanda that she had been right. Taking her eyes off the inimitable sight, she glanced at Natsumi who overlooked the scene with pride and a delighted grin, and then to Mint whose mouth had literally dropped to the floor. Lying on the table was a naked Asian girl, pretty and young, covered by sushi and flowers in some strategic places.

              “What on earth?” Mint stared at the girl and grinned. Amanda blinked twice. Then she looked back at Natsumi.

              “O shokuji o o tanoshimi kudasai,” Natsumi said and gestured for them to sit down at the table. Amanda hesitated. “There’s a naked girl on the table. With sushi on her body.” As if Amanda’s remark couldn’t have been dumber, Natsumi rolled her eyes and shrugged.

              “We’re having Nyotaimori. It’s body sushi,” Natsumi explained. “A body serve, if you like.”

              Natsumi pushed Amanda towards the girl lying on the table. The Australian almost tripped over and grabbed the table at the last minute, losing herself in a mumbling of apologies to the Asian girl for brushing her wrist.

              “Oh, Elise won’t hold it against you!” Natsumi sighed observing her friend’s awkwardness. “You won a Grand Slam. It’s a celebration!”

              Swallowing hard, Amanda stared at the sushi placed on the girl’s belly button. She tried not to look left or right. Mint on the other hand had overcome her initial surprise and dug in.

              “Great idea,” she said across the living table to Natsumi. “Now, where is the wasabi? You can’t have enough hotness, right?”

***

Anastasia had been surprised to see Sasha when she had opened her hotel room door, but she had invited her in nevertheless.

              “I wanted to say sorry for my rant. I don’t know what got into me,” Sasha said while sitting down on the chair.

              “You didn’t play very well,” Anastasia remarked matter-of-factly. She had opened the little fridge and had begun to pour them a G & T. Sasha wanted to protest, but then stopped herself. She was here to reconcile not to be impolite again.

              “No,” she admitted. “No. I was thinking about a photo.”

              “A photo?”

              “Yes. And for a moment during the match I thought that maybe you were the one who had given it to me.”

              “Me? What photo are you talking about?”

              “Nevermind,” Sasha replied. “Just a picture. I know it wasn’t you. I don’t know what got into me. As you said I played badly.”

              Anastasia sat down opposite Sasha and handed her the glass. She watched Sasha carefully.

              “Is it a photo of you and me? From Eastbourne?”

              “No,” Sasha shook her head, trying to give the worried umpire a smile. “Just me and someone else.” She sighed.

              “In a delicate situation?” Anastasia took a sip of her drink.

              “No, not really,” Sasha said. She hadn’t touched her G & T yet. “It’s just the look on my face suggests there might be something going on. But there is nothing.”

              She looked up at Anastasia, suddenly glad she had come here to apologize.

              “That’s the most worrisome thing about this picture, you see. There is no note on it. I don’t know whether this is an attempt to blackmail me or just an attempt by that other person in the picture to get my attention. Or maybe just a joke by someone.”

              “Let me get this straight,” Anastasia said, waving her hands to slow Sasha down. “This other person is a girl and you look at her in an affectionate way?”

              “Basically,” Sasha nodded.

              “That’s not enough to blackmail someone,” Anastasia stated.

              “That’s what I thought,” Sasha said. She finally sipped a bit of her drink and relaxed. “So it must be the other reason.”

              “You think she is in love with you and wants to convince you that you are in love with her?” Anastasia was bemused by the thought. “Are there no better ways for you girls to show your affection?”

              Sasha snickered and looked at Anastasia who winked back at her. Sasha was sure the umpire had witnessed many delicate scenes at player parties, in hallways and lounges. Anastasia knew the girls were not exactly shy as soon as the cameras were gone.

              “You’re right. That’s why I’m not sure it’s her who gave me the picture,” Sasha replied. “Besides I think I know who took the picture.”

              Anastasia leaned back eager to hear the new information.

              “This guy who does all the pictures and some little stories on us has showed up every now and then. I know it doesn’t have to mean anything, but he always seemed to be where I was. It’s his job to be around us and take pictures so I never thought there was anything wrong with it. But he appeared when I was shopping or when I went for walks. I forgot about it, because it was only during the European swing. But now that I think about it, I’m almost sure it was him, as the picture is half a year old.”

              “Why would he do that?”

              Sasha shrugged. She had no idea why Tom was stalking her. Of course, he could be madly in love with her. She had had crazy people following her in the past. But usually they would eventually try to approach and contact her but Tom had never tried that.

              “Do you want to stay for the night?”

              Anastasia’s question came out of nowhere and it caught Sasha off guard. Yes, she wanted to, and even though she couldn’t remember their last time in Eastbourne there must have been something good about it, if Anastasia had asked for a rematch. On the other hand there was a dark-haired girl who was perhaps waiting for her. Sasha hesitated. Or perhaps not. She looked into her glass. Anastasia must have sensed her indecisiveness because she leaned forward.

              “I’m not in love with you, Sasha,” she smiled and waved her hand at Sasha’s boobs. “I just appreciate one or two things about you.”

              Sasha had to laugh. “Good,” she said. “Same here.” But she still wouldn’t make a move toward Anastasia.

              “So, you are in love with that girl?” Anastasia smiled at her, and Sasha knew if she said yes, Anastasia would probably be happy for her and let Sasha go. She waited.

              “No,” she finally said. “I don’t even like her.”

              She gulped down the rest of her drink, leaned forward and slipping her hand behind Anastasia’s head she pulled her forward. No, Sasha thought while kissing the umpire. No, she don’t even like Luella. That was the truth.

***

Gabriella Galloway sat on the broad windowsill of her fancy hotel room and overlooked the Tokyo skyline. Maybe she should have accepted her sister’s offer to go out tonight, but after dinner she had felt like going to bed soon. She had gone up to her room and had begun reading the Tennis Nurse novel Morgana had given her but soon her thoughts had wandered off to something else. Something that was more intriguing than Tennis Nurse and the Girl from Hollywood. A real story that gave her thrills whenever she thought about it. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that she didn’t know how the story ended. It would depend on her, on what she did. Or what she didn’t do. Should she do anything at all? Or perhaps just wait for the story to unfold?

              She had met Sasha briefly outside of Candice Crantz’s office in the morning and had said hello. They were on speaking terms but that was it. Gabriella had to admit that it was the best thing that could have happened to her. Sasha thought it was Lulu who had kissed her in Cincinnati. And because Sasha was even more afraid of her cover being blown than Gabriella she anxiously stayed away from the Galloways. She would never talk to Luella and accidentally let slip something thereby unveiling Gabriella’s secret.

              She put the novel away and got up. The streets of Tokyo were bustling with lights and colors. But there was no sound reaching the 15th floor of Gabriella’s hotel. She touched the huge glass window, feeling like a fish in a tank. How often had she analyzed her peculiar situation with Sasha? And every time she had come to the conclusion that the situation was perfect. But every time she thought about it she also felt lost. She had kissed Sasha and it had been a clever move.

              But what made her uncomfortable was the fact that Sasha had kissed her back. Passionately, she should add. It confirmed what she had always suspected. That Sasha Mrachova was into girls and that she was pretending with Jaro, her fiancé. More worrisome was the fact that she was obviously not uninterested in the Galloway twins. Sasha’s recent avoidance could also mean that she was not only trying to maintain her cover but she was trying to avoid what she wanted most. Her, Gabriella. Or Luella. Gabriella moaned in frustration. What did Sasha want? Who did she want? But all the intimate encounters had been with her, Gabriella. So Sasha Mrachova wanted her, right? Gabriella looked outside the window but all the blinking signs and colors of the city couldn’t give her an answer.

              The truth was Gabriella wanted Sasha to want her. And yes, Gabriella wanted Sasha. But how could she make it happen? She couldn’t. Unless she wanted to give up her cover, which she didn’t. She was not like Elise, who didn’t seem to be affected at all by the rumors about her and Amanda that were mounting higher than Fuji by now. While picking up her badges two days ago she had passed two umpires who had openly discussed the relationship. Apparently, Amanda and Elise were the new favorite couple who would win the umpires’ Year End Award for Cutest Couple.

              Gabriella sighed. She really had to talk to someone about it. The situation was driving her mad. The only person who knew that she was gay and to whom she ever talked about it was Elise. But Elise didn’t like Sasha. Moreover, Elise wasn’t supposed to know that Lulu and Gaga used to switch matches.

              The only person whom she used to trust was Luella. They used to be one. But Lulu wasn’t supposed to know that she wanted Sasha. In summary, Gaga had two secrets to deal with. Two too many for her liking.

              She went back to bed again. Looking at the Tennis Nurse novel on her bed stand she quickly decided against picking it up again. Compared with her life this book was a bore.

Luxembourg, Grand Duchy of Luxembourg

“These are the locker rooms,” Candice said opening the door, then stepped inside and sighed. A clean locker room was a formidable sight. Only in the days before the tournament and in the early morning was it as clean and tidy.

              “Take a good look at it now. In two days you will not recognize it,” she said to the young woman, who laughed.

              “I know,” Alice said. “I would have never thought that people can mess up a place so quickly.”

              Walking through the locker room into the hallway that led to the court, Candice glanced over at the girl next to her. Alice had wandered into Candice’s office and applied for the job in Luxembourg only an hour ago. Usually Candice did not accept any new on-site employees at the last minute, but two of her staff members had called in sick this morning and Luxembourg was a small tournament, therefore easily manageable, so she decided to give the young woman a chance. Moreover, Alice had already worked for the French Open earlier this year and even though she had worked for the players’ service rather than in communications she must have made a very positive impression, at least to Amanda Auster. Along with her résumé came a recommendation full of praise from the Australian player and her management. It sounded as though Alice had rescued Amanda with a ‘special service’?

              While entering the Center Court through the players’ entrance and pointing out the players’ and corporate boxes she watched the woman who inspected everything with thorough attentiveness.

“So what did you do for Amanda? Did you bring her chocolate in the middle of the night?”

              Alice turned her head. “Flowers,” she laughed. “She needed a bouquet as soon as possible. I gave her the flowers Yelena Kovalenko’s disappointed ex-lover had left at the help desk earlier.”

              Candice cracked up laughing. She suddenly remembered what Agnes had told her in the summer. That Elise had been taken to the infirmary after her knee gave her problems at the French Open and that Amanda had shown up with flowers. Agnes and her had had good fun imagining Amanda clandestinely plucking flowers from Court Suzanne Lenglen’s corporate boxes for her new love interest. Now it had turned out that Amanda and Elise’s love story had quite a different beginning. How hilarious was the fact that the flowers, intended for Yelena, the biggest drama queen of the WTA had landed in the hands of shy Amanda Auster and had resulted in a dinner invitation that had changed two people’s lives?

              Candice shook her head in amazement. Life – and flowers – took some interesting turns sometimes. They walked back to the office and turning a corner almost bumped into Tom Richardson.

              “Tom,” Candice smiled. “I’m glad we ran into you. This is Alice. She will work with us for the week.”

              Having introduced them to each other and seeing that Tom was carrying his heavy camera bags, Candice suggested that Alice could start right away by helping Tom shoot some footage of the tournament grounds.

              With an excited nod Alice took one of Tom’s bags, shouldered it and followed him outside. Candice watched the young people chat until they disappeared behind a corner. She had really begun to like Alice and with the season coming to an end and some of her staff members leaving the team she had to consider recruiting new team members. Opening the door to her office, Candice decided to wait until the end of the week and if Alice turned out to be a good worker she would offer her a permanent job on the tour.

***

Mint checked her watch. It was early afternoon and she had just finished her practice hit. She walked to the locker rooms and took a shower. No need to rush. She would have enough time before her delivery arrived in this laid-back part of Europe.

              Two days ago she had spent the whole afternoon searching for a 1-hour-photo store, without success. Luxembourg didn’t seem to be in any hurry to develop their inhabitants’ pictures. In the end she had to opt for a little convenience store. The pictures should be ready this afternoon, the owner had told her. It was quite an adventure, she had thought. Usually she would just ask one of the girls who worked for the tournament to do this for her. But these were her special pictures. She had to do it herself, and it turned out to be a good challenge.

              She had spent the last weeks looking through all of the pictures. There were about three hundred of them. All showed players with other players or in the guys’ cases sometimes with random guys unknown to her. Some of the scenes were pretty graphic like the pictures of Antonia and Martina in a hallway. Most intriguing was the fact that photos were obviously taken to reveal the players’ hidden tendencies.

              Mint got out of the shower and picked up a towel. Yes, she was certain that even the rather harmless picture of Sasha looking at one of the Galloways was intended to point out a desire unknown to the public.

              She still couldn’t believe how she had gotten the pictures. Ted Curry. On a balcony. It was ridiculous. Had he taken the pictures all by himself? Mint had a hard time imagining Ted waiting in the early morning for players to come back from the Wimbledon Winners Ball. Or following the players around to finally catch them in a dark corner. He didn’t seem the type to do that. In a few cases, she had figured out that the pictures were taken at WTA tournaments and concluded that Ted couldn’t have possibly been there. It was more likely he would have had someone do it for him. But why was he there on the balcony that night in New York? He must have found out about Mint and Chili and must have tried to get photos of them that night. It seemed the only good explanation for this weird encounter. However, she couldn’t remember if he had had a camera with him that night.

              Mint shook her head and began to dress. What did Ted want with these pictures? She could think of only two possibilities. Either he wanted to jerk off to the pictures or he intended to blackmail the players. In the first case, Mint wondered why there were male players’ in the pictures. Was Ted bisexual? She almost laughed at this thought. He seemed a bit oversexed sometimes and it would shed a totally different light on the whole thing with Felicia and Amanda, Mint thought. It was funny to think of Amanda as part of a threesome. Then again there were these pictures of Amanda and Elise in Wimbledon. They were not exactly jerk-off material. Mint had taken a long look at them herself. They were not overly sexual. In fact, they looked more like movie stills. Two people completely absorbed in each other.

              So it must be the latter. Blackmail. Mint shuddered. But why? Why would Ted do that? He didn’t need money and he didn’t need to buy wins against any other player. Besides, why would there be pictures of the girls? It didn’t make sense.

              Mint shouldered her bag and headed outside. Whatever Ted was up to, if these were the only copies of the pictures, she was glad she had them. She wouldn’t blackmail her fellow players. Just have a little fun with them. She chuckled.

              Just as she left the building someone called out to her. Mint turned around, surprised to see Polly Duke running after her. Mint had never had much to do with the Canadian player, but she secretly admired her. Polly had short hair and always wore shorts instead of skirts, something Mint would have loved to do but didn’t dare.              

              “Mint,” she yelled, catching up. “I wanted to ask you if you’d want to play doubles with me. The deadline is in two hours and I thought you might be free as Chili is not playing here.”

              “Oh, I’m sorry, Polly,” Mint answered. “I’ve already teamed up with Natsumi.” Since Tokyo Natsumi and Mint had been hanging out more frequently and for Luxembourg they had decided to play doubles.

              Polly looked disappointed. She wasn’t very highly ranked in singles and playing doubles at tournaments helped her gain a few extra bucks. The Canadian was about to turn away, when a voice made them both jump.

              “Perhaps you want to play with me?” To the surprise of both girls, Bernadette LeBlanc stepped out of the shadows of a doorway. She was also Canadian, and now Mint remembered that the older player’s doubles partner had been injured during practice two days ago. Bernadette didn’t play singles anymore, so she needed to find a new partner for the tournament. Mint nodded to Polly for encouragement, but the younger Canadian already had made up her mind. Bernadette was a very doubles specialist and with her Polly Duke was likely to get a better result than with Mint. Polly agreed.

***

For the thousandth time in what must have been only five minutes, Carina Gnocchi looked outside the window of the small restaurant and sighed loudly.

              “You want to talk about it?” Stephanie looked at Carina annoyed by the blatant attention seeking. From the corner of her eye she could see Elise and Angela chuckle. The No. 1 shrugged.

              “This must be the most boring place on earth,” she answered. “Especially, if you come here year in, year out like I do. I shouldn’t be here at all.”

              Everybody understood what Carina was implying. The Year End Championships were starting soon and she wanted to do her best there. She should be preparing for it right now. Instead she was stuck at such a small, insignificant tournament in Luxembourg. She sighed again.

              “But here I am, because it is so close to my hometown and people expect me to win this little tournament.”

              “Don’t you forget mentioning a little matter called the appearance fee?” Antonia remarked. Carina looked up. She seemed shocked.

              “Is that jealousy speaking?” She looked around. “No offense, girls. But if you had qualified for the Year End Championships, you would think like me.”

              Nobody said anything. Their fellow German’s arrogance stirred up a deep discomfort in the rest of the group. What a stupid idea, Stephanie thought, to offer her to come along for lunch. Obviously Carina wasn’t only the No. 1 in tennis but a No. 1 party pooper as well.

              “I think I will stick to monogamy,” Stephanie broke the silence. Her revelation had the promised effect. The girls looked up in wonder. “You know, for a try. Dating two guys at the same time is awfully exhausting.”

              It should do the trick, Stephanie thought. Not that she really intended to stop seeing her two favorite ATP players. At least her remark got a reaction from Angela who, unconvinced, burst out laughing.

              “Have you lost your mind? How can you say good-bye to your two eye-candies?” Antonia laughed. Everyone was relieved Stephanie had given the conversation a turn.

              “What about you, Angela? You’ve spent quite some time with your Latin cutie, lately,” Carina chirped, unaware of the maneuver that had been necessary due to her. “I mean, that’s what I hear.”

              Angela made a face and snorted. “Rumors, rumors.”

              As Antonia and Carina engaged in a mocking conversation about the advantages and disadvantages of dating fellow ATP players, Stephanie looked at Elise. Whenever all four of them met Elise would keep quiet about her relationship with Amanda, while the other girls would talk openly about their adventures or misfortunes with boys. If it wasn’t for Carina they could have openly talked about all their relationships. Moreover, Elise and Stephanie’s relationships had a few things in common. Neither of them saw their love interests that often and they had to keep their relationships a secret. Stephanie regretted even more that she had invited Carina for lunch. Stephanie gave Elise a little wink. They would find a better time to discuss secret love affairs. Elise grinned and finally joined in the conversation. She laughed, smiled and nodded when required, as if she had no story of her own to tell.

***

Paola checked her watch. She had arrived late and it had taken a while to get the camera ready, so there was time left but for only one or two question. She looked up at Gabriella Galloway, who sat on a lounge chair and smiled politely. She was much easier to work with than her twin, Paola found. The Galloway twins had had a reputation for being difficult and arrogant, but since the last interview the journalist had felt that this was only true of Lulu. Gaga seemed perfectly nice and affable.

              The WTA, Supersport Channel and the twins’ sponsors had come up with the glorious idea to have a series of features with the sisters in which they would function as narrators and presenters for entertaining stories about the WTA tour.

              Being unique as twins and yet being so different the producers expected a good show, with Lulu as a new Grand Slam champion and extroverted Top 10 player and Gaga as the little sister, who was fighting her way up to equaling her sister.

              The show would start next season, and Paola’s assignment was to produce a nice teaser. Luella had given her a lot to work with already, but she needed some words from Gabriella as well.

              “This is your last tournament of the season,” Paola stated. “Luella will play in Istanbul for the first time. Will you be there to support her?”

              “Yes, of course. I will come with her and practice with her and during the matches I will cheer for her.”

              Gabriella smiled. Paola sighed. She needed more controversy, more spite. Impossible with the nice twin.

              “Is there no rivalry between you? You must be jealous of Luella’s big success in Wimbledon.”

              Gaga paused. For a moment Paola thought she saw a glimpse of anger surfacing, but Gaga only shook her head.

              “No, I’m really happy for her.” Gabriella nodded, as if to convince herself.

              This was going nowhere. Paola told her cameraman to stop recording and with a little gesture let him know that his service was no longer needed.               He began packing the camera away. Paola turned back to Gabriella who was just about to get up.

              “You had a great season,” Paola remarked.

              Gaga looked up in surprise. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

              “I guess, most people only see your sister’s accomplishments or will compare hers with your year, right?”

              Gabriella nodded. Even though Lulu seemed to be in a post-Grand Slam slump she had nevertheless won a major and in the end that was all that mattered.

              “I’m confident that I will win a Grand Slam one day,” Gabriella solemnly said.

              Paola raised an eyebrow. She wished she hadn’t turned the camera off. But then again, she was sure Gaga wouldn’t have said it with the camera rolling.

              “What will you do to get there? Any adjustments you have in mind?”

              “Oh, for sure,” Gabriella smiled. “But it’s too early to say. I’m sure you will find out soon enough with the cameras following us around, right?” She had said it with a snicker.

              “This is off the record, Gabriella,” Paola said with a grin. “You can’t leave me here wondering.”

              Gabriella laughed. Paola was well-liked among the players and they knew they could trust her with delicate secrets.

              “Nothing serious,” Gaga revealed with a smile. She stood up and was about to leave. But then she turned around again, her face stern. “I’m thinking of getting my own team. Coach, hitting partner, trainer. I will become more successful than Lulu. I will win more Grand Slams than her and I will become No. 1 in the world.”

              Nothing serious? Flabbergasted, Paola watched the young player walk through the door. Gabriella had sounded dead serious.

***

“I’m starving. We should have gone out for lunch,” Antonia blurted out, rushing through the hallway of their hotel.

              “How about room service?”

              Reaching the door of their hotel room, Antonia turned around and looked at Martina only to face a familiar mischievous grin. The girls had just won their first round doubles match in Luxembourg. No big deal. But still a good reason for a celebration. A private celebration.

              “Room service sounds promising,” Antonia answered.

              She opened the door and abandoning her bag on the floor, went straight for the couch. Picking up the phone next to the sofa, she suddenly hesitated. Maybe they could have a bath before ordering food? There was nothing more relaxing, yet spicy as sharing a bath with Martina. She turned around to consult her lover. Martina was still standing in the doorway.

              “I think I want to take a bath first. What do you say?”

              Martina was holding a brown envelope, turning it around slowly. Absentmindedly, she nodded, then put her bag down on the floor.

              “It was on the floor. You trampled over it like a big elephant,” Martina said a bit puzzled, then sat down on the couch.

              Elephant? Antonia raised an eyebrow.

              “I’ll run the water,” she said with a little snort, disappearing into the bathroom. Adjusting the faucets to find the perfect water temperature she could hear Martina mumble outside. Was she asking her something? The water was too loud.             

              “I can’t hear you!” Antonia yelled impatiently but with a smile as she could still hear Martina babbling. She hadn’t heard her either. Finally, Antonia stuck her head out of the bathroom. “What were you saying?”

              “I said, someone must have slipped it under the door.”

              Martina held a large print in her hands. She looked horrified. Antonia frowned.

              “What’s going on, gioia?”

              “That’s us.”

              Martina held up the photo. Wiping her hands clean of foam, Antonia made a step forward and grabbed the picture. She froze immediately. “Cazzo!“

              “Do you remember? That was in Melbourne!”

              Antonia shook her head, then stared back at the picture she was still holding with shaky hands. “That’s nine months ago. Do you think – ?” Her voice was shaky, too.

              Martina nodded. She obviously had the same thought. This looked like blackmail.

              “Is there anything else in the envelope?” Antonia asked.

              After a quick glance, Martina shook her head. “It’s empty.” She snatched the picture from Antonia’s hand again and turned it around. No message on it either. Casting a glance at her lover, she repressed a nervous laugh and frowned. They had heard blackmail stories in the past, on tour, but had always assumed that they were only horror stories the girls like to tell in the dark and nothing else. Until now.

              “Alright.” Martina put the picture down on the coffee table and kept on staring at it. An intimidating silence was now floating through the hotel room. Slowly Antonia sat down next to Martina and took her hand.

              “Alright,” she also said. “Guess, we have to prepare for the worst.”

              Martina nodded squeezing Antonia’s hand.

              “I’m still hungry,” the Italian said. Martina smiled at her lover, but neither of them moved.

***

“You’re on a roll, kiddo,” Angela said with a grin. She was standing in the hotel room doorway and waving two bottles of soda.

              “She was just a qualifier,” Elise shrugged but couldn’t help smiling. She really was on a roll and if she could make the quarterfinal here, she would be back in the Top 20.

              “You double-bageled her.”

              “She’ll get over it,” Elise grinned.

              Angela whistled and sat down on the bedside. “I like your new attitude.”

              She handed the soda to Elise who had settled down on a chair. Elise had changed so much over the summer that it made Angela smile to think of the timid girl she had visited in her hotel room in the spring and had asked her about boys and eventually about girls.

              “How is Amanda?”

              Elise smiled. She loved talking about the Australian and Angela was one of the few people she could talk to.

              “Good. Preparing for Istanbul.”

              “Will you accompany her?”

              “Yes,” Elise answered.

              She paused. A thought was circling in her mind. “I just have to be careful not to draw too much attention.”

              “If you keep on playing like that, you’ll have a good excuse next year to be at the Year End Championships,” Angela said with a smile. Elise nodded, but not convinced. The way to the Top 8 was still long.

              “We just have to keep a low profile,” she continued.

              “Is it worrying you?” Angela looked at her friend who only shrugged and looked at her soda bottle.

              “No.” But then Elise sat back and took a sip. “I’m ok with it. My parents know, that’s the most important thing. But I think there’s already a lot of talk about us, and it’s worrying Amanda.”

              Amanda was older and she probably knew much better than Elise how the tour worked in these matters. Perhaps she had good reason to be worried.

              “Yes, a couple of people know about you two.” Angela revealed. “Some players, staff. They talk about it.”

              The confirmation didn’t cheer Elise up.

              “Elise, would you ever consider making it public?”

              Elise looked at her friend in surprise. “No,” she stammered. “That’s not possible.”

              “Others have done it,” Angela remarked but regretted it almost immediately. Monica Jordan’s infamous coming-out was probably not very motivational for Elise. Looking at Elise’s face she realized that her friend was thinking about Monica as well but was surprised to see her suddenly laugh.

              “I should order a red dress. Just in case I get to a Grand Slam final anytime soon and feel the need to declare my love for Amanda,” Elise said grinning.

              Angela cracked up. The thought was so absurd that she almost fell off the bed laughing. It was even more absurd to believe that Monica had pulled such a stunt, she thought. Elise was right. It was not possible. Not anymore. Times had changed and a red dress on a Wimbledon Centre Court was only a childhood memory.

              “It’s not a bad thing,” Elise mumbled through Angela’s laughter. Her friend leaned forward. Elise had said it so quietly, she wasn’t sure if it had been a question or a statement. “It’s a good thing to love someone.”

              Angela smiled at her friend, but the graveness of Elise made her sad.

              “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it is.”

              “I don’t want to make it public. I don’t want us to be the talk of the town. But I don’t want to lie about it either.”

              Angela nodded. This sounded like a harder task than winning a Golden Slam.

***

Tom dreaded the thought that in only a few weeks the tennis season would be over. He dreaded the thought of going home for he had no clear concept anymore of where that was and why he should still call it “home”. He had given up his small apartment in Britain when he started to work for the tour and he didn’t feel like crashing on a friend’s sofa, even though he already had invitations to do so. The thought of moving back in with his parents seemed even more frightening. But he sure wanted to see them again. He knew they would love to see him for Christmas.

              What had happened to his life? Sitting at his desk editing the video for the tournament site, Tom was lost in his thoughts. His life had come apart at the seams. Only a year ago he was an unknown photojournalist with a passion for tennis. Now he flew around the world and lived out of suitcases. He met new people every week. He loved this life, but in the last couple of weeks he had felt like he was losing his grip.

              In the beginning he embraced the new exciting life that had evolved around his new job and the love affair with Ted Curry. There was no hesitation in forgetting about the dull existence he had led back home in Britain. He had invented a new life for himself, with a new task that had occupied him, even when Ted had dumped him in Wimbledon.

              But he hadn’t written a word for his blog 30 Love since the U.S. Open. All his work, all the pictures were gone and he had lost all energy for keeping the good idea alive even though he still felt it was a good idea.

              With the end of the season in mind he had begun to regularly call his parents and friends again after weeks and weeks of silence. Their delight over his calls had cheered him up, but he was still not sure whether to fly home to Britain or just stay in Bali, his last destination for the year until the new season started again in Australia.

              His phone rang and checking the number he sighed. It was a British number, but not his parents’. Thank god he was in Europe. How often did people call him in the middle of the night because they didn’t know he was on the other side of the world?

              He answered after the first ring, waiting for a reply. But there was only silence at the other end.

              “Hello,” Tom said again into the phone. He waited for another second, then shrugged and hung up. There was work to be done and he had already lost too much time with idleness and racking his brain. With a resolute movement he put away his phone and faced the computer again. Gabriella Galloway, Elise Renard and Mint Rickenbacher had been given a tour through a porcelain factory and his job had been to accompany them and film the eventful afternoon. They had marvelled at the fine china and were each given a nice dish made of porcelain.

              It had been a boring event and the girls hadn’t been overly excited about it. With Gabriella and Elise hanging out together most of the time, he had been left with Mint who hadn’t been very communicative at all.

              The afternoon had been dull, but he knew how to make it look exciting in the video. Picking the few moments when the girls had cracked up at a joke or had participated in painting some of the porcelain dishes, the finished video looked very entertaining. Candice would be happy.

              He transferred the file onto his memory stick and was about to leave the room to take the video to Candice when his phone purred. He picked it up and left the room. It was a text and heading through the corridor he saw that it was from the number that had tried calling him earlier.

              He opened the text and stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

              How are you? Will you be in London in the off-season? Wanna meet? Ted

              Tom suddenly felt shaky. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Yes. Yes, he wanted to see Ted. And no, no, no, he didn’t. Slowly, he walked back to his room. He didn’t feel fit to face Candice right now. What should he do? Closing the door he fell onto his bed and looked at the message again. The words were simple. They didn’t reveal any feelings. What was he supposed to make of that?

              But then he sat up and picked up his phone. Without hesitating he called and a smile flashed over his face when it was answered.

              “Mum, may I order your roast turkey for Christmas?” His smile grew even broader when he sensed his mother’s joyful disbelief.

              “Yes,” he confirmed it. “Yes, I’m coming home.”

***

It hadn’t been her best match, but Elise had won it 6-3 in the third set. And a hard-fought win was sometimes more useful than an easy straight-set victory. She felt ready now to win some more matches. She opened the door of her hotel room and stepped inside. Throwing her racquet bag next to the bed she turned around to close the door again when she noticed a brown envelope on the floor. She had almost missed it as it was the exact same color as the carpet.

              Elise picked it up and turned it around, but there was no writing on it. She looked at the door and shook her head. There was only a tiny clearance between the door and the floor and it must have taken the person who had slid the envelope under the door quite a while to squeeze it through. Why not leave it at the lobby desk for her? She sat on the bed and ripped open the envelope.

              It was flat and when she reached in she felt the glossy surface of a photo print. She smiled. Perhaps Tom had taken a really good picture of her yesterday in the porcelain factory and had gotten her a print. Pulling it out she expected herself to be smiling at the camera with one of the dishes, but instead she looked at a different scenario. This was not Luxembourg. This was not in a porcelain factory. Yes, there she was. But not with fine china.

              Elise stared at the picture. In the midst of the green hedges of Wimbledon Village Elise was standing in the early morning sun wearing a blue dress and kissing Amanda whose loose red hair glowed like magma in the sunshine.

              Elise gasped in shock. She couldn’t believe that someone had taken a picture of such an intimate moment. She couldn’t remember anyone being there. And hadn’t it been about six in the morning? It looked like someone had followed them. It was a scary thought. She took out her phone from her pocket and looked for Amanda’s number before realizing that it was the middle of the night in Moscow, where Amanda was playing her tournament. It would be reckless to wake the Australian and worry her before her match. Elise put down the phone. She would have to wait until after Amanda’s match. Who had taken the picture, she wondered again. Brushing over the soft photo material she took a closer look at herself and Amanda.

              It was a fabulous shot. Embracing each other and kissing with closed eyes, Amanda and Elise looked adorable together. Even though it felt awkward to think that someone had not only seen them but had taken advantage of the situation by taking photos, she had to admit that she liked the picture. She smiled. Only actors in romantic scenes had their picture taken in such a moment. And here they were in one of those classic happy ending movie stills. Looking gorgeous. Looking as if they were made for each other. She suddenly felt the need to send Amanda the picture. Not to worry her with the news that an anonymous stranger had taken pictures of them, but because they looked so beautiful together and she wanted Amanda to see it, too. In fact, she wanted everyone to see it. They really looked like two people in a movie. In the same moment she realized that only in her eyes did they look gorgeous. How many people would be appalled by the sight? How many would start calling her names?

              They would only ever kiss behind hedges or in hotel rooms hidden away from the world. No, they would never be like movie stars. They would never take centre stage together. A big disappointment rose in her. Why hide such a thing of beauty? She didn’t want to hide it. But as always when she had to face disappointment, her anger about it was even stronger. Elise clenched her fists, wrinkling the edges of the photo. Then she got up and left the room to go to the city and buy a frame.

Istanbul, Turkey

Somewhere outside a muezzin was calling for prayer as Sasha checked her watch. The singing had woken her up during the night and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep again. It wasn’t the jetlag this time. She had started worrying again about the picture with herself and the Galloway twin and only three hours later had she fallen into a fitful sleep.

              While lying awake she had made a decision and after getting up in the morning had called Jaro. He was in training in Great Britain but had promised to call her back as soon as he got out of the shower. She checked her watch again. What time was it in Britain? She walked to the window and looked outside. The Bosporus looked like a wide grey ocean, bleak and cold. Sasha shivered. When her telephone rang she jumped, but picked it up immediately.

              “What took you so long?” she snapped, but then reminded herself that she needed Jaro. “Listen,” she purred. “I told you about this photo print I received. I think I know who took it.”

              Jaro was listening. When Sasha had first told him about the picture he had not taken it seriously but had understood that it could become an issue for himself, too. If Sasha’s gay rumors surfaced again, doubts about his own sexuality would be reinforced.

              “I’m not hundred percent sure, however,” Sasha continued. “We need to follow him and find out.”

              “We?” Sasha could hear Jaro smile.

              “Well, I have to play some tennis, of course,” she grinned. “But after that I will help you!”

              Over the last couple of months they had become good friends and confidants, respectful of each other’s efforts in their respective sports. The marriage proposal had put Sasha off in the beginning, but she was willing to reconsider it.

              “I’ll take the next flight to Istanbul,” Jaro offered. “Send me a picture of this guy, so I can study his face.”

              Sasha agreed and hung up. During the players’ party last night she had taken a picture of Tom Richardson with her cell phone which she now immediately forwarded to Jaro. She checked her watch again. Only thirty minutes until she would meet her team for the pre-match practice session. Her racquet bag was already packed but she checked it another time. Just when she was about to shoulder it, her phone rang again. It was Jaro.

              “I’ve met this guy,” he blurted out. “When I visited you in Rome I went to this gay bar. He was there. We had a little chat in the bathroom over some band aid?”

              “You had a chat over a band aid?” Sasha was confused. “Is that some code for something gay guys do in public bathrooms?”

              Jaro laughed.

              “No, he was actually being very nice,” he admitted thinking back to the encounter, but then he became serious. “He might have recognized me though.”

              “I dare say you are right,” Sasha nodded gravely. “He is one of the media guys and he must have seen us around the tournament site or taken pictures of us during the party. Also, he is British and probably knows a good deal about football. So when he saw you in the gay club he must have come to the conclusion that there was something false about our relationship.”

              She sighed. There was no use blaming Jaro for being incautious. Instead they had to do something.

              “Don’t come to the hotel,” she said. “Come to the courts. We’ll meet right after my match.”

              They hung up and Sasha stuffed the phone into her pocket. She was late already. Picking up her bags she remembered something. She went back to the bedside and opened her travel case that lay on the floor next to the night stand. On top of her laptop was the brown envelope that was causing so much disconcertment. She grabbed it and put it into her racquet bag to later show to Jaro.

***

“Lynn, wait!”

              Agnes, Monica and Candice Crantz were sprinting through the corridor waving at the umpire, who had turned around. When they reached Lynn Pebblestone Agnes motioned for her to come closer.

              “We just wanted to tell you the location of our party,” Agnes said in a low voice. “We will be at Club Zara tonight and will have one room to ourselves.”

              “Club Zara?” Lynn Pebblestone frowned. “Will there be dancers?”

              “Yes, of course” Monica said matter-of-factly. “It’s a dance club. Everybody will be dancing. Even chair umpires. But none of you is obliged to undress. We hired people to do that for us.”

              “Plus, there will be a little award ceremony for the winner of Love Game,” Agnes winked at Lynn.

              “Yes,” Monica purred. “A fantastic award. Hand-picked by the three of us!”

              “A potted plant no doubt?”

              “Yes, something useful for the British gardener,” Monica grinned at Lynn.

              “Sounds promising,” the chair umpire whispered. Candice laughed. It was no secret that Lynn would receive the award for winning the Love Game this year. She was the only one who had correctly picked Amanda and Elise as a couple.

              “We will also present a little treat to our couple of the year,” Agnes said.

              “I will tell the others,” Lynn winked, before walking down the hallway.

              Agnes turned around to Candice. “Who else is on the list?”

              Candice pulled out a notepad, checking the names. The list wasn’t very long as there were only a few players in Istanbul – the best eight singles players and the best four doubles teams. The party was invitation only and there would be players, umpires and other staff members Agnes, Monica and Candice called their friends present.

              “Antonia and Martina. I saw them on their way to the practice courts. And we still have to tell Natsumi. She must be at the courts as well.”

              “I tried to talk to Antonia and Martina yesterday,” Agnes said. “But they were all snappy and grumpy and left before I could tell them about the party.”

              Candice shrugged. “Girl drama?”

              “Looks like it. Maybe we should talk to them,” Agnes wondered.

              Monica rolled her eyes. She had set them up almost a year ago and in her opinion they made a lovely couple, but their quick-tempered natures certainly made for a bumpy ride sometimes.

              “They’ll get over it,” she said. “It’s probably just the long season and a vacation will do wonders.”

              “Guess you’re right,” Agnes replied to her doubles partner. “Well, let’s get the party started. I think I will take my laptop and convince the DJ to play some French music. I really have some good tunes on it.”

              Monica and Candice looked at each other in despair. The only good thing about the French chansons Agnes listened to was the fact, that neither Monica nor Candice understood a word of the lyrics.

***

She had been unable to concentrate. Her balls had gone wide or into the net. Once she shanked the ball into the packed stands much to the entertainment of the crowd. They had expected a different match and a different outcome. But after almost two hours there was only one winner and it wasn’t her.

              Sasha sighed and stepped into the shower for a quick refreshment. Amanda Auster would be pleased with herself as it was her second win against Sasha. She probably believed that now she had Sasha’s number. The loss hurt her but it didn’t surprise her. Her mind was somewhere else, sneaking around imaginary corners looking for Tom. She hadn’t seen him today and her plan was to wait with Jaro outside the staff entrance. Tom had to come out eventually.

              As soon as she had left the court she had called Jaro. He was on his way and would be ready to pick her up outside the arena in twenty minutes. They would follow Tom, corner him, and eventually make him admit that he was behind the picture. She also wanted to know what his plans were. If necessary Jaro would threaten Tom into giving them the files. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning the whole fuss would have gone up in smoke and she would be able concentrate on the tennis again.

              Sasha turned off the faucets and wrapped herself in the big towel, when all of a sudden someone banged loudly against the shower door.

              “What the hell?” Sasha grabbed her shampoo and opened the door.

              To her surprise it was Antonia and Martina looking back at her. Even more startling was the fact that Martina was waving the brown envelope in her hand. She must have taken it from Sasha’s bag.

              “What are you doing?” Sasha couldn’t believe that the two had gone through her things. “Give that back!” She tried to grab the envelope but Martina had pulled it back.

              “We also got a picture,” the Argentine blurted out. “Someone slipped it under the hotel room door.”

              “Did someone contact you? Are you being blackmailed?” Antonia anxiously added, grabbing Sasha by the shoulders.

              “What? No!” Sasha answered flabbergasted, freeing herself from Antonia’s grip.

              Her thoughts were racing. She had successfully fended off any rumors about herself, she had been pretending to be in a relationship with Jaro for over a year now and she had kept her distance from the other gay girls on tour to prevent the rumors from surfacing again. But there seemed no way to brazen it out now. Antonia and Martina looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Martina was still holding the brown envelope.

              “Well, there seems to be someone who likes taking pictures of me,” she said with a shrug.

              “The picture is implying that you have a thing for girls,” Antonia said slowly. “Don’t you want to know who it is?”

              Sasha smiled wryly. Antonia and Martina apparently had no idea who had taken the picture. Should she tell them? A thought formed in her head. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to get supporters. Given Antonia’s and Martina’s hot tempers they could be the front pigs. No need to put herself out there and risk her charade with Jaro.

              “I actually do know who it is,” Sasha revealed. Antonia and Martina gasped.

              “Tell us!”

              Without a word, Sasha walked to her locker and started to get dressed. She could feel the couple’s eyes on her back. When she finished dressing she turned around.

              “Why don’t you come with me?” Sasha said calmly, then she shouldered her bag and left the room, followed by a surprised Antonia and Martina.

***

It started to swell instantly. Her breath still short, Lulu continued staring at her ankle, barely hearing the murmur of the crowd around her. She couldn’t even say if it hurt or not. The evidence was just there growing bigger and bigger. She had sprained her ankle.

              She hobbled back to the chair and soon after the trainer arrived to check the damage.

              “When Morgana hit the return into my backhand corner, I wanted to run around my backhand to hit a forehand, but I didn’t have enough time and then I slid and lost my balance.”

              “Does it feel like it cracked?” The trainer looked up at her and Lulu nodded. Oh, how she hated this look, compassionate and grave. She looked away, tears were forming in her eyes. The violet and green paint of the court, the lights on the ceiling of the arena all blurred. A few minutes before, she was still there. Playing, running, hitting forehands and backhands.

              “No. I didn’t hear anything. I twisted it and the pain made me fall down. That’s pretty much it.”

              A voice came up on her left. Instinctively, Lulu looked up and stared at the chair umpire who wanted to know what to do, what to say. Things were so obvious though.

              “I can tape it, of course, and you can give it a try and see if it holds up but I suggest you have it checked as soon as possible. It could be only twisted, sprained but there’s also a chance of a small fracture. It’s risky to play.”

              Damn. Of all the tournaments, she had to get injured during the Year End Championships. Heavily, Luelly shook her head then bit her lower lip before mumbling to herself.

              “Then I had better stop,” she mumbled, still unsure if that was the right decision. It was devastating and heartbreaking. The only positive thing in all this was that it was happening at the end of the season. Thank God it left her time to recover without missing any other tournament. That and the draw. Her next match would have been against Sasha who had just been beaten by Amanda again and that wasn’t a match Lulu had been looking forward to. And if the bad record she had against Sasha wasn’t enough, with her loss against Amanda the Czech player was up against the wall. A win against Lulu was a must, which made her even tougher to play.

              What would have been Lulu’s chances in such a match? Almost none unless Gabriella had played for her. Her sister’s game gave Sasha huge problems, but it was futile to think about it as they didn’t switch matches anymore.

              Looking up at the chair umpire and standing up unsteadily, Lulu nodded. “I cannot go on. I must retire.”

              Leaving her racquet bag and her belongings behind her, Lulu made it to the net and shook the French player’s hand under the crowd’s murmur. Morgana looked genuinely sorry and sad. It wasn’t the way a player wants to win a match.

              “You’ll have other opportunities,” Morgana said. “See you next year. Get well soon.”

              Forcing a smile from her lips, Lulu nodded, wrapped up in mixed feelings. “Merci.”

              From the corner of her eye she could see her coach and Gabriella get up and leave the player’s box. Despite all the arguments her sister and she had had over the past months, despite the distance that had grown between them since Wimbledon, Gabriella was her twin, her likeness. Luella could tell from the worried look on Gabriella’s face that she felt the pain as if it was her own. That was more comfort than any painkiller could offer. Luella knew that nothing would ever come between them.

***

Amanda checked her watch. The club had filled rapidly and by now the separate room Candice had booked for the party was packed. The noise of excited chatter drowned out the music and the clink of glasses promised an eventful night. She felt Elise’s hand touching her lower back and looked up.

              “I heard there will be an award show,” Elise whispered in her ear. “They mentioned our names.”

              She looked excited. It was the first time she had been at the YEC award party.

              “Really? Maybe the Couple of the Year Award?” Amanda laughed. “I’ve never won that one before.”

              “Did you win others?”

              “The award for Friendliest Player two years ago,” Amanda smiled. “It’s awarded by the linespeople and ballkids.”

              Elise looked at Amanda. It was no surprise Amanda would win such an award. Elise laid her arm around Amanda’s hip and drew her girlfriend closer.

              When Agnes and Candice took the stage the music was turned off and the buzzing died down. While Agnes stepped behind the DJ desk, Candice took the microphone and everyone looked up at her in thrilled anticipation. After an entertaining introduction, which set the mood for the show, she finally got to the award ceremony. Beginning with the award for Worst Challenge, Agnes played a video sequence of the nominated challenges much to the delight of the crowd. It was no surprise that the award went to Yelena Kovalenko for the third consecutive year. It was followed by the award for Best Tantrum which went to absent Sasha Mrachova for her infamous rant against Anastasia Stea. The chair umpire received a loud applause from the crowd instead.

              After the awards for Friendliest Player, Most Infamous Quote and Most Entertaining Tennis Dress had been announced, Candice paused dramatically.

              “We now come to the most anticipated categories,” she said solemnly. “Let’s crown the Couple of the Year and the Queen of the Love Game.”

              Loud cheering erupted and heads turned around to look in Elise’s and Amanda’s direction. Amanda felt that she was blushing, even more so when Elise placed her hands around her hip. Being rewarded for your achievements on the tennis court was one thing, she thought. But receiving an award for being happy was a bit hilarious. She hoped they wouldn’t get the prize. What should she say on the stage? She didn’t want to say anything. But before she could rack her head, their names were announced and a beaming Elise was dragging Amanda through the applause to the stage. Elise’s excitement died down slightly when Candice handed her the nicely wrapped potted plant.

              “It’s a potted flower,” she said under her breath, smiling in disbelief. Seeing her lover’s disappointed face Amanda cracked up laughing.

              “What did you expect? A week in a hotel in Bali?”

              She squeezed Elise’s arm, who nodded. “Yes,” she confessed, but was already laughing.

              Thankfully they were not expected to make an acceptance speech as Candice went on to announce the winner of the Love Game.

              “She is a tennis lover, a fair player, a wonderful friend and a true champion,” Candice began. “Once again she has outplayed the other umpires in the game that matters most because she has a gift we all want. She knows where the ball lands before it is even hit. She has correctly picked our couple of the year,” Candice said and turned around to nod briefly at Elise and Amanda, “and therefore deserves to pick up this precious award.”

              Dramatically, Candice unwrapped an envelope.             

              “Let’s hear a big applause for the multiple-time champion and this year’s Queen of the Love Game, Lynn Pebblestone.”

              Amanda and Elise stepped back so that Lynn could take centre stage and pick up her pot.

              “What is this Love Game?” Elise tugged Amanda’s sleeve to get an answer.

              “Before the season starts, the umpires pick who on the tour will end up being a couple.”

              “How could she possibly pick us?” Elise wondered.

              “Because she is the best. She has a hawk’s eye,” Elise shrugged. “And she just knows where the ball lands.”

***

After Tom had left the building Sasha had pulled Antonia, Martina and Jaro into a little local cab and had advised the driver to follow Tom, who had taken one of the tournament cars. The decision could have hardly been worse. Even though the Turkish driver had a hard time keeping up with the other car, he tried. Antonia grabbed the door handle to steady herself when the car turned around a corner at full speed.

              “Sasha,” Antonia gasped looking at the others for support. “I do want to talk to Tom, but how are we supposed to do that if we die in a tiny Turkish tin box?”

              “Yes,” Jaro said anxiously. “We should find another way to confront him.”

              Sasha turned around and silenced him with an ice-cold stare.

              “Losers,” she snarled. “If you like you can get out. But I’m here to get the job done.”

              There was no way of getting out of the taxi as the driver continued speeding through the city. He clearly enjoyed speeding in his hometown. Crossing the Bosporus they were on their way to the old part of town. The sun was setting and in the distance they could see Tom leaning out of the window and taking photos of the Istanbul skyline. With the narrow, winding streets blocking the view the taxi driver almost lost Tom several times, until the tournament car became visible again in the evening sun. But when the driver decided to take a shortcut through a badly-lit one-way street, Antonia had had enough.

              “Stop the car,” she yelled. “Stop it right now!”

              She grabbed the driver’s chair from behind and shook it. When the taxi driver didn’t stop due to the fact that they were still in the middle of the one-way road she resolutely clasped the driver’s neck and began strangling him. He managed to drive to the end of the road, then stopped the cab on the sidewalk with squeaking tires.

              Confronted by the driver’s red face and furious threats, Antonia, Martina and Jaro jumped out of the car and ran down the road, while Sasha managed to take out her purse and leave a huge bill on her seat before the driver had time to run around the car. They all met up again behind a corner.

              “Great,” Sasha screamed. “Just great! Now we’ve lost Tom!”

              “It’s only the first day of the tournament,” Antonia snapped back. “We can still talk to him tomorrow. Also, Martina and I have a party to attend.”

              She nodded at Martina who took her hand and they both turned around and walked down the road.

              “What? What party?” Sasha was running after them.

              “Nothing you would be interested in,” Antonia said into the cool night air without looking back at Sasha. But Martina stopped and gesturing for her partner to wait, she turned around to Sasha. From the look on Sasha’s face it seemed the Czech knew exactly what party Antonia was talking about, even though she had never been invited as she had deliberately chosen to stay away from the other players.

              “Why don’t you and your fiancé come with us?” she said wryly. “If you want our help you can just as well socialize with us.”

              Sasha looked at Jaro, who nodded back at her. They began walking through the old part of the city for what seemed like ages, and when they finally found another taxi they drove to the party location still arguing.

              They entered Club Zara and walked to the back and showing her invitation to the doorman, Antonia led them into the private room. They had come just in time to witness Lynn Pebblestone with flower pot in hand delivering a fine speech. A few of the girls turned around and gasped when they saw Sasha with Jaro.

              Antonia had no intention of being seen with the fake couple or talking to Sasha, who was still growling about Tom. She was just about to head into the crowd with Martina, when she spotted a familiar face. She turned around to Sasha.

              “See?” she said under her breath. “Best decision ever to come here. You should listen more to other people.”

              Sasha followed her gaze. Tom was at the buffet handing out glasses of punch. Antonia waited for Sasha’s response.

              “What are we going to do now?” Antonia wasn’t able to finish her sentence, as Sasha had already sped across the room.

              What happened next would be the talk of many, many hushed chats in players’ lounges and would eventually become a legend just like the red dress on Wimbledon Center court had become. Everyone knew it had actually happened, but the story was so absurd and incredible that it was told over and over until it took on mythical quality.

              There was a flying punch bowl. A famous female tennis player who jumped over a buffet table. An Italian and an Argentine who jumped after her, helped to grab the punch bowl man and pinned him to the wall so that the famous female tennis player could give him a thorough beating. A famous soccer player who rushed to prevent the worst, but slipped on the punch on the ground, and by falling not only knocked out the famous female tennis player but also kicked the punch bowl into the air, which hit the punch bowl man on the nose.

              Some versions of the story include a low-five the Argentine and the Italian gave each other over the three unconscious bodies lying on the ground, but this was never confirmed.

***

The muezzin was going at it again and it seemed as though he was standing right outside the window.

              Tom pulled the white, clean pillow over his head to shut out the singing but the pillow cover was stiff and it hurt his beaten face. He tried to recall the moment he saw the bowl flying at him for the first time. He had ducked in surprise but then had felt a fist on his cheek. Sasha had punched him right in the face. Suddenly Martina and Antonia were there trying to tear Tom and Sasha apart, while at the same time shouting at him. Why did you do that? Why did you do it? It was then that it had dawned on him that this was all to do with his pictures.

              But the pictures had gone. How did they know about it? Many thoughts raced through his mind. Someone else was using them. Someone else was probably blackmailing the girls. He looked up at Sasha who was kicking and hitting with blow after blow, intending to explain the delicate situation when the now empty punch bowl flew at him for the second time. Being held by Martina, he couldn’t dodge.

              Why had he done it? Why?

              Outside the door he could hear nurses walking along the corridor. He was looking for the button to call one of them in, as he needed a painkiller for his head. But he couldn’t find it and he felt too weak to yell for them. Moreover, his headache had probably been caused as much by racking his brain as by the bowl. Why had he done it? And why had it all gone wrong?

              He wanted to do good. Yes, he really wanted to. But it had been wrong to pursue the idea without the consent of the players. But which of them would have agreed to support his idea? None, he was certain of it. He never wanted to do harm, and to think that some unknown person possessed all the evidence and was clearly about to do some harm was terrifying.

              He had to speak to the players, and not only Sasha, Martina and Antonia. There was also Amanda and Elise, who had not taken part in the fight, so they probably didn’t know about the pictures he had taken of them in Wimbledon. They needed to be warned. Yes, he felt the need prevent the worst and help them. He sat up, leaned over to grab his jacket that was lying on the chair and got out his cell phone, when there was a knock on the door. The door was opened and Tom straightened up ready to give the Turkish nurse a smile, when his heart stopped.

              “Ted.”

              It was really him. Ted Curry was standing in the doorway, looking gorgeous and smiling at Tom like the British dork he was, even though no one had ever seemed to realize that except Tom. He raised his left hand to wave at Tom.

              “What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?”

              Tom stared at his ex-lover. He must be dreaming. It took several hours to get from London to Istanbul.

              “How did you get here so fast?”

              “Oh, I was already here,” Ted explained, stepping carefully into the room and looking for a place to sit down but the only chair in the room was occupied by Tom’s belongings. Under the sheets, Tom moved his feet to the side, and understanding the gesture, Ted sat down on the bedside.

              “I flew here this morning to talk to you,” Ted began. “There is something I need to tell you that is haunting my mind. But now all this happened and I’m afraid it’s all too late.”

              He buried his face in his hands.

              “What are you talking about? It’s not too late!”

              Tom couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Ted was here to reconcile. He still wanted to be with Tom. “We can do that. Ted, you were right about 30 Love. I should have never done that.”

              “But that’s exactly what I’m talking about. It’s too late because I lost the photos, I lost all the files and I’m afraid someone has them and is trying to blackmail the players. Amanda told me that Elise found one of the pictures you had taken of them in Wimbledon. Someone slipped it under her door in Luxembourg.”

              A silence as broad as the Bosporus was spreading over the room. Then Tom breathed in sharply.

              “You stole my pictures?”

              Ted nodded ashamed. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry. I was just so scared that you would go ahead with this idea.”

              “And you lost them?”

              Again Ted nodded. His shoulders sunk and he hung his head.

              “You know you are a dork,” Tom said.

              Ted pressed his lips together. He nodded.

              Tom couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth and love flowing through his veins. He reached out and grabbed Ted’s hand.

              “Will you help me get them back?”

              Ted looked up and again he nodded. But seeing the look in Tom’s eyes, he suddenly smiled and nodded even more. Yes, he would. Of course, he would. They were in this together.

              The smiled at each other like the two British dorks they were.

***

Would she have to go to rehab? Was there physiotherapy for a broken nose?

              Sasha lay on the hospital bench and decided that she probably couldn’t do anything about the fracture but cool it with an ice pack. The ice and the painkillers that had slowly begun to work caused a numbness that spread all over her body. She felt dizzy. Could she play with a broken nose? Sasha sighed. She needed to call her team. But how would she explain this drama to her management and agent? She had some modeling jobs coming up in the off-season. Would she have to call them off? Sasha moaned. This was the worst-case scenario. Moreover, with Tom being knocked-out and carried away to a different part of the hospital he was unable to answer their questions. She closed her eyes and shifted the ice pack on her nose.

              When she heard the little snicker she thought at first it was her head still pumping with pain, but then decided to open her eyes, almost letting the ice pack tumble from her hand. One of the Galloways was leaning against the door frame, a hand on her hip.

              “I had to see it with my own eyes. I couldn’t believe it.” the twin said, taking a step forward. Sasha noticed that she was limping. Her ankle was taped.

              “And what happened to you?” Sasha sat up on the bed.

              “I sprained my ankle in my match against Morgana.”

              So this was Luella then. The twin took another step closer. “Judging by your marvelous looking face she will have to play one of the alternates tomorrow,” Lulu mused.

              Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know yet if I can play. But I don’t think so.”

              “Guess the season is over for both of us,” Luella said.

              Sasha looked at her. The Galloway’s image was blurry and it felt like Luella was moving towards her. Was she smiling? Would she come and hug Sasha?

              “Yes,” Sasha said wearily. She suddenly felt like crying and very tired. Putting down the ice pack she grabbed the edge of the bench to steady herself.

              Luella made another step towards her. “Shall I call a doctor?”

              Shaking her head slowly, Sasha reached out and touched Luella’s sleeve. It was soft and she could feel the warmth of Lulu’s body through the fabric. Pulling the twin towards her she closed her eyes.

              “You don’t look alright. Are you sure, you don’t want a doctor?”

              Luella’s words became incomprehensible. Why was she talking, Sasha thought. Moving her hands up to Lulu’s neck, touching the warm skin, she immediately felt better. Pulling the Galloway even closer Sasha lay her other hand on Luella’s hip.

              “Sasha!” Luella’s voice sounded angry. She shifted in Sasha’s arms.

              “Yes,” Sasha answered with a thick voice. “I’m here. I was waiting for you. I’m so glad you came.”

              “No,” Lulu began, but Sasha had already leaned forward. With her lips she carefully touched Lulu’s neck and continued mumbling.

              “I’ve always known it. Since that day in Paris, before the match,” she slurred her words. “But I couldn’t cope with your advances. Even when you kissed me that night in Cincy I didn’t know how to feel about it.” She grabbed Lulu more firmly. “But now I know, and I know you want me, too.”

              Sasha turned her head to finally kiss Luella, but the American dodged out with a swift movement.

              “I certainly do not want you,” Luella yelled, breaking free from Sasha’s grip. “What are you talking about? What night in Cincy?”

              Once more Sasha tried to grab Lulu’s sleeve but this time the twin had had enough. With a well-targeted blow she put an end to Sasha’s blurry dreams and an end to whatever magic the painkillers had worked so far. Sasha felt the bones in her nose crack once more and a lightning strike of piercing agony shot to her brain, knocking her out.

              When she came around Sasha felt the coolness of the floor spreading from her temples through her body. She heard voices. Upset voices. The nurses must have found her and would help her now.

              “Why are you doing this, Lu?”

              The words echoed in Sasha’s head. Someone touched her cheek and Sasha could hear herself moan. She tried to open her eyes but it seemed her eyelids were glued together.

              “Get away from that madwoman!”

              The voice sounded exactly the same, Sasha wondered. The nurse was angry and talking to herself. Suddenly, the hand was gone exposing her cheek again to the cold. Then she heard the door being slammed and the room became silent.

              After a long time Sasha opened her eyes. She was all alone. Blood was dripping from her nose onto the floor. Slowly she pulled up her knees and embraced them with her arms. Tears formed in her eyes, and when she blinked for the first time they gushed out.

              With cold fascination she observed the two liquids forming separate pools on the tiles until – in one rush – they finally mingled together as if they had been waiting for each other.