And I’d clearly done something to disrespect the gods of tennis, because they kept taunting me. Making me think there was hope. Success was so close I could taste it, but when I reached for it, it disappeared.
“So you don’t play anymore?” Dr. Malone asks. “Even for fun?”
I shake my head. “I don’t even own a racket.” I’d given enough of myself to a sport that wasn’t giving me anything back. “When I quit, I went cold turkey.”
“Cold turkey, huh?”
I nod. “I have a lot of willpower.”
He shrugs. “That’s too bad, because that’s my condition. You want me to come to the meeting, you have to beat me at tennis. One set. Take it or leave it.”
I take a deep breath and push it out slowly. “Only one set?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you play much tennis?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t think you can beat me?”
“Hardly,” I scoff. “But I don’t want to embarrass you. I’m still on my three month probation period here. Whipping your ass at tennis seems like a bad career move.”
I’m actually not sure I can beat him, but there’s no way I’m going to admit it. Drew Malone is fit, and he must be into tennis if he recognized me. But trash talking is a very important part of the game.
“You know I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
“I don’t own a tennis racket,” I point out, but I can feel my resolve weakening.
“I have a spare.”
I take another deep breath as I think about it. What’s the worst that can happen? If I lose, it won’t be a new experience for me.
“All right,” I say softly.
Dr. Malone smiles with satisfaction. “Good.”
“When are we doing this?”
He shrugs. “The meeting’s next Wednesday?”
“Yep.”
“Then either this weekend, or Monday after work. I’m on call Tuesday.”
“Tomorrow morning?” I suggest. Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I’d like to get this out of the way so I can forget about it.
“Great. Ten A.M.? There are decent public courts at Colonel Daughtry park, near the lake.”
“I know it.”
“Okay.” He glances at his watch and grimaces. “I have to get back to the clinic. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alexandra.”
After Dr. Malone leaves, I spend ten minutes eating Sour Patch Kids and trying to make sense of what just happened. By the time I’ve finished the candy, I’m no farther ahead. I still can’t make it make sense.
So I pull out my phone and FaceTime my best friend, Sarah Hayes. I feel a little guilty about calling a friend during my work hours, but I can rationalize it pretty easily. I’m ready and willing to work, and it’s not my fault I haven’t been given anything to do.
“Hey, Ally.” The video bounces around for a second before it steadies, and I can see that Sarah’s already in her pajamas. She’s currently in Spain, six hours ahead of me, in the midst of hard-core preparation for the French Open.
That’s right. I gave up tennis, but I couldn’t give up my best friend, who’s currently ranked third in the world in women’s tennis. We were roommates at the tennis academy for two years, and we’ve been close ever since. I hardly ever see her since I left the tennis tour, but we FaceTime pretty often. Last winter I swallowed my pride and let her pay for me to join her in Cancun for a week at an all-inclusive.
