A celebrity. And yet, she didn’t act like it. In fact, she acted the complete opposite. Sitting alone in a bar, for one…
“But where’s your fan base? Shouldn’t you be schmoozing with high society, giving interviews and all that jazz?”
She scowled. Not at me, I hoped. But at something I’d said.
“That’s kind of why I’m here,” she said. “Escaping all the rich dudes bragging about their wealth and drinking champagne that probably cost more than…well, more than a lot of people back home can afford.”
Oh. “And then there was me come flapping my credit card in your face,” I said. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to upset you.”
She was quiet for a moment. Just looking into space. As if she had something on her mind but didn’t quite know how to say it.
“Tomorrow’s match…” she said finally. “You asked about my fan base, and my biggest fan is my mom. But…but she’s sick so she couldn’t come to watch me. If I win tomorrow, the prize money could pay off all her bills and get her surgery…” Her voice trailed off. I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.
I thought of my dad. I thought of all the times I’d criticized him on his cigars and his heart. Of the hospital visits and doctor’s appointments, of the fact that he was retiring early because the doctors didn’t think he had all that long left… In short, the look of love and worry that was so intense in her eyes, I could understand it. I thought, at least I hoped, I had that look for my own parents. For my dad, every time I walked through those hospital doors.
“I’m sorry,” I started.
Just then, there was a clanging behind me and a flustered woman ran in, wearing heels higher than I had ever seen before. She stopped, saw our table, and jogged over. “Elly! There you are!”
I looked over at Elly. She was biting her lip. Something told me this woman may have been one of the key people Elly had been hiding from.
“Simone…”
Simone didn’t waste any time. She barely acknowledged my existence before grabbing Elly’s hand and half-dragging her out of the bar. Clack, clack, clack. Her thick black hair waving behind her like a flag. This woman had business to attend to.
And with that, the mysterious American woman disappeared once again.
This time, though, I had her name.
I murmured to myself as I got up to finally get a drink. “We will meet again, Elly Hall.”
CHAPTER9
ELLY
“I’m going to win it for you, Mom. I promise.” I stared at the screen of my phone. Mom looked tired. Sarah had told me she’d had a bad night. She hadn’t elaborated on what she meant by “bad”—either because Mom had instructed her not to, or she was trying to keep any potential stress factors away from me in case it messed with my game.
But keeping Pandora’s box closed was not a good idea. It just made me want to pry it open. Whatever was in that box was keeping me on the edge to the extent that I couldn’t focus on anything else. Even on Mom’s words.
“Thank you, darling. I know you will. You’re a much stronger player than that Camila Sanchez, but don’t let that get in your head. Don’t let your guard down. You know…” At this, Mom started coughing again. I waited for her to stop. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding as I listened to the obvious pain she was in.
“Mom…”
Sarah’s face appeared on the screen. “I think, Elly, it’s time your mom had a rest before your big game,” Sarah said. “We’re going to watch it on the TV so we need to get our strength up, right?” This she aimed at Mom, who had stopped her coughing fit.
Mom tried to protest but her words were going nowhere.
I nodded. “I, uh…I need to get ready so…I’ll call you after the game,” I said, avoiding eye contact with both of them. Which was easy through a screen. But I still felt guilty about it.
When the call ended, I didn’t put my phone down straight away. Instead, I stared at the screen as if waiting for something…some sort of miracle to appear there to tell me everything would be okay, that there was some sort of magic about to happen around the corner. But the only thing that happened was the minutes passed and all of a sudden it was time for me to head down to the taxi that would take me to the courts. The match was about to begin.
* * *
Mom was right. Camila was good, but she had one obvious weakness that worked in my favor. Her backhand slice was not just bad, it was terrible. I had her guessing constantly by throwing in a crosscourt pass and a down-the-line pass. I was on fire out there.
During the break, Simone came over. She didn’t usually talk to me mid-game but she wanted to get my okay on interviewing with some TV news channel after the match. More like, she needed to make sure I wasn’t going to run out before the interview. My permission was already presumed. I nodded. With that, Simone sauntered off back into the crowd.
We waited for them to finish sprinkling the grass. I frowned. I didn’t like playing on wet grass. Particularly if I was playing on unfamiliar courts.