Happy Birthday, love!
Dad
Hey, happy birthday, kiddo. Call if you’re free.
Katie Zhang
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! EAT CAKE FOR ME!
MILES AND TINA were already waiting when I arrived, Miles in one of his short-sleeved linen shirts, Tina in a flowing sundress and enormous sunglasses like she was somehow going to find a beach in northern DC. At the sight of me, Miles’s smile broadened and he got to his feet.
“Morning,” he said, greeting me with the ever bro-y hand clasp and shoulder bump. “Allow me to properly introduce my sister Tina, in the flesh. Tina—Mat.”
“Lovely to meet you, Matteo.” She held out one manicured hand, her smile almost as wide and easy as her brother’s. “Although something tells me I almost ran into you yesterday.”
“Oh? Not sure why you’d think so,” I said, wholly innocent.
As I shook her hand, she shook her head. “You’re an even worse liar than Miles.”
I took the seat opposite them at the rustic outdoor table, and as I pulled in my chair, a small group wearing tournament press passes emerged from the café cradling takeaway coffee cups. They gathered in a knot on the footpath and stood chatting.
“Should we head inside?” Tina asked, not so obvious as to glance at them.
“No,” Miles said, leaning back in his chair. “The sun is nice. Besides, Mat has been freezing his ass off for two weeks and needs to thaw out.”
“It’s true,” I agreed, grateful that he’d stepped in. “Melbourne winters are brutal.”
Tina tilted her head in a very Miles-attempting-to-decode-me way. “Do you get snow?”
“Never, thank god. I’m not made for that.”
She leaned her elbows on the table and, resting her chin on her palm, lifted her sunglasses to better examine me. In photos, Tina Callahan shared no great likeness with her brother beyond good looks and blonde hair, but in person there was a much greater resemblance. It was in her expressions, in the way she regarded me with her dark, steady gaze, in the way her brows twitched, and in the slow spread of a slightly wicked smile. She leaned Miles’s way, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.
“Yeah, so I’m shallow, move on,” he said, flicking an appreciative grin at me.
My cheeks heated – not a common sensation but one that had happened far more often in the past few weeks than I liked. Tina laughed, dropping her sunglasses back into place and gesturing for a passing waitress. “We had better order, or you’ll have to rush your match prep.”
“I’m not playing until the afternoon, Tee,” Miles pointed out as the waitress approached.
“Yes, but Leo wants you there by eleven and you have press commitments at ten-thirty.”
Miles glanced at his phone and groaned. “Right, fine.”
We ordered, and I had to remind myself that it was all right to spend the money, that I could afford even the café’s most expensive meal many times over – the feeling both frightening and exhilarating.
“So, you have a coach travelling with you now, I hear,” Tina said once the waitress had left us to bask in the sun and await our food. “I hope that means you won’t be challenging Miles to do without his team again.”
“Ah, no,” I said. “Although, I didn’t really expect him to do it the first time.”
Something of a grim look tightened Miles’s jaw as he said, “Mat has a new coachanda physio now,” as though to turn the conversation away from himself. “What will be next?”
“What you need is someone to manage your image,” Tina said, gesturing at me with her coffee cup. “To manage the business ofyou.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you have a growing fan base, Matteo, and you aren’t making the most of it.”
“Would it improve my game if I did?”
