Love Game - Season 2011 Read online

  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, gettin
g 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.”