Match Point Page 15

  Jodi took a deep, unsteady breath, and tried to bring her mind to rest, a skill she had practiced many times on court. She placed the phone in the car cradle and pulled back out onto the road, following the directions of the computerized GPS voice.

  It was a nice night and we got carried away, she told herself carefully. I’m sure Miranda will understand. Jodi concentrated on the road, and tried to dismiss the unmistakable ache inside of her.

  I’m sure she’ll understand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Miranda jogged lightly from side to side on the baseline, poised to receive Jodi’s serve. She adjusted her hat against the sun, and passed her sweatband across her forehead, mopping up the dampness. The ball hurtled toward her and she swung from the hip, driving the ball back across the net with precision. Jodi had set a punishing pace this morning and Miranda was stretched to her limits. The new drop shots were pushing her all over the court; Jodi seemed to have boundless energy, setting up the drill again and again.

  “Okay, let’s take a break,” Jason called, waving them over to join him on the benches. “Nice work, Jodi, you’re totally nailing the shot. I think we can move on to something else now. How you holding up, Miranda? You okay?”

  Miranda nodded stoically. “Sure. What’s next?” She twisted open a sports drink, gulping down the cool, sweet liquid. “Backhand? Footwork?”

  Jodi put a foot up on the bench, stretching out her hamstrings. “I’d like to take it to the net for some volleys,” she said. “Up for that, Miranda?”

  “Always,” Miranda replied, capping her drink. She stood up quickly from the bench, trying not to let her weariness show. She rubbed the sweat from her neck and forehead, tossed her towel on the bench and followed Jodi back out to the court. She guessed they’d be done in another hour or so and thought longingly of a nice cool shower.

  Set up, they began to volley, Miranda digging deep to keep the ball in play. Jodi’s face was set in a firm line of concentration, her body arching and stretching as she placed her shots. Miranda was struck by the taut, graceful line of Jodi’s body. They were close enough for Miranda to see the beads of sweat gathered on Jodi’s skin, her tight shirt outlining the soft swell of her breasts straining against the thin material as she reached high for the ball. Miranda suddenly imagined herself with her hands on that shirt, lifting it over Jodi’s head, pulling her in close to kiss the skin around her neck.

  “Ouch!” Miranda rubbed her shoulder, massaging the spot where she had been struck full force by the ball.

  “Oh gosh, sorry,” Jodi called, running to the net. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hit you, I thought you were ready for it!”

  “Uh, yeah,” Miranda mumbled, turning away to retrieve the ball. “I’m fine. I just lost concentration for a second.”

  Jodi looked at her watch. “We’ve been going for long enough this morning,” she said, her face concerned. “Let’s finish up for the day.”

  “I’m fine, really. I can keep going for as long as you want,” Miranda reassured her.

  “I think you’ve both had enough for today,” Jason called across the court, scooping up balls with his racket and dropping them into the basket. “We don’t want to overdo it. Why don’t you guys hit the showers and we’ll go grab some lunch.”

  Jodi stretched wearily and took off her cap. “Sounds like a plan,” she said.

  Miranda gratefully followed her off the court, embarrassed to have been caught out like that, but glad they were putting it down to tiredness.

  “After lunch we’ll settle our game plan for Vancouver,” Jason said. “We’ve still got plenty of work to do off the court!”

  Miranda was finding it hard to ignore the attraction she felt for Jodi; the memory of their kiss constantly catching her off guard. But Jason’s increasing demands as they prepared for the tournament ahead left her little time or energy to dwell on it. Buckling down, she forced herself to ignore the distraction and embrace the grueling workload. By the time she and Jodi were on the plane, Miranda felt confident and refocused on the task at hand, their kiss just a fading memory.

  * * *

  “The draw will be announced in twenty minutes, so please pick up your tournament packs and make yourselves familiar with the grounds,” announced the handsome, boyish-looking official. He paused to look around at the group of coaches and tournament staff. Miranda felt a quick thrill as she observed some of the other coaches from previous tournaments and functions. I can’t believe I’m here, she marveled.

  “If you need transportation from your accommodation you must organize it with Shelley tonight.” The official gestured to a red-haired woman seated behind a wide desk; she gave a small wave. “And otherwise, see me if there are any other issues. I’m Brett,” he added as he tapped his nametag, “and I’ll be managing the logistics of your time here with us in Vancouver. Best of luck to you all.”

  As the group broke up, Miranda stuffed her hands in her pockets and headed over to the registration table to pick up Jodi’s tournament pack. She knew a couple of people by name, and many by sight, and she could instantly tell that the caliber of this tournament was higher than any other she had attended.

  “Richards,” she said to the official behind the registration desk whose nametag read Pamela. The woman shuffled through a large box of folders and pulled one out.

  “Here you are, hon.” She handed Miranda a folder with Jodi’s name typed across its front. “All you’ll need to know is in here. Consider it your tournament Bible,” she said with a wide smile. “And have a great time.”

  “Thanks.” Miranda took the folder. Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

  Any news? The message read.

  She smiled, and keyed in a reply. You’ll know as soon as we know, Jase, I promise. Miranda could feel Jason’s anxiety all the way up the coastline from California. She knew he was worried that Jodi would draw Jennifer Laurent in the first round of this tournament, but Miranda wasn’t worried. She knew instinctively that Jodi could handle Laurent. Sure, their last match had been a disaster, but this time would be different. Miranda was resolved to do a much better job at coaching. She had spoken extensively with Jason about strategies to support Jodi and, as a team, they had worked diligently to position Jodi to beat technical players like Laurent. A tiny jolt shot through Miranda as she pictured Jodi running down the steps from her house after their kiss. She shook her head, determined not to think about that. A night of soul searching on the couch with Enid had straightened her out on that front.

  “I wondered why she left in such a hurry,” Enid had said, her tone uncharacteristically gentle when Miranda had finally spilled the beans about the kiss. Abby had gone to sleep in Miranda’s spare room. They sat on the dark, back step, chatting comfortably.

  “What do you think you want from this?” Enid asked.

  “I don’t know.” Miranda sighed. “I’m so confused.”

  “What are you confused about?”

  “All of it, I guess.” She tipped her head back and stared at the bright wash of stars. “I don’t really know if I kissed Jodi or if she kissed me, but I feel responsible and I guess it was probably inappropriate. I’m employed by the club as a coach—I’m not supposed to be fraternizing with the players. Anyway, her reaction made it pretty obvious how she feels.”

  “So then, why are you confused?”

  “I don’t know,” Miranda said slowly, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “It was stupid. I don’t want to jeopardize this job. It’s a huge opportunity for me, as you know. I don’t want to blow it, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to her.”

  “She seemed keen enough.” Miranda could hear the smirk in Enid’s voice.

  “It was a mistake, E. I shouldn’t have done it. It was unprofessional. I don’t know what came over me.” Miranda felt momentarily breathless as she recalled Jodi, bumping against her playfully in the kitchen. Miranda had wanted to close the gap between them. I wanted to kiss her. I still do.

 
; “I think I get what you’re saying.” Enid leaned forward and hugged her knees.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. And I think you’re right. This job is huge for you. You’ve waited a long time to figure out where you’re going and what you’re doing. You’ve always wanted to be involved with tennis and this job is pretty much a dream come true. I’d hate to see you lose that over some little crush.”

  “I don’t have a crush,” Miranda protested wearily.

  “Okay, well, whatever it is, I think one day you’ll be able to have both. An awesome career and a wonderful love life, but I don’t know if Jodi is the right one for you. She’s super focused on her career and your relationship isn’t really set up for romance. She is your boss. Maybe this isn’t the time to lose your head over a kiss.”

  “So, you think I should just forget about it?”

  “Maybe. Is that what you think?”

  “I guess so,” Miranda replied heavily. “I really should concentrate on coaching and put this kind of stuff out of my mind.”

  “Hey.” Enid put her arm around her friend. “It’s going to be all right. You can be an old maid and come visit me and Abby in our beautiful home by the ocean. We’ll have dinner parties and everyone will be excited to meet the famous tennis coach.”

  “Excellent. I can’t wait.” Miranda stretched wearily and stood up. “Bedtime now, I think.”

  * * *

  “If you’ll all gather ’round, we’ll reveal the draw now.” The announcement by Brett-the-official brought an immediate hush to the group. A bright, blank square on the projector screen awaited the first round of matches for this tournament. Brett clicked the mouse a few times and the screen came to life. As he adjusted the lens, a table of names bobbed into focus.

  “Let me know if you have any questions about the draw. Otherwise, we’ll see you all back here for your matches over the coming week.”

  Miranda located Jodi’s name, halfway down the women’s singles list and scribbled the unfamiliar opponent’s name—A. Cutelle—in her notebook. She scanned the list for Laurent and noted that she was slated to play her first round match against Selena Kitchfield. Laurent will slaughter her, Miranda thought, noting down a few of the other matches in case Jodi or Jason asked her about them. Knowing that Jodi would be anxious to hear the results, she hurried to make their transportation arrangements and headed back to the hotel.

  * * *

  For dinner, Jodi and Miranda ate salads Miranda had picked up at a local organic store on her way back to the hotel, along with grilled salmon ordered up from the hotel kitchen. As usual, Jodi sprawled on the bed and Miranda perched on the desk with the laptop.

  “Here.” Miranda swiveled the laptop toward Jodi. “I’ve found some videos of Cutelle’s matches and put them into a playlist. Want to watch them now?”

  “Sure, fire away.” Jodi shifted her plate onto the side table. “I’m stuffed.”

  Miranda set the laptop on the desk and settled next to Jodi on the bed. “Okay, the first one is a good example of her serve.”

  They scrutinized the moves of Jodi’s soon-to-be opponent.

  “She doesn’t like the left side,” Jodi remarked as she watched Cutelle send a serve wide out of the court.

  “I know, and watch how she hugs the baseline. This chick doesn’t like to come forward.”

  “I don’t know if I do either anymore,” Jodi said ruefully.

  Miranda looked Jodi straight in the eye. “Jodi, you got spooked. You’re fine at the net. In fact, you’re more than fine. You’re brilliant. You can own the whole court, and that’s what makes you different. That’s why you will win, because you’re not afraid.”

  Jodi pursed her lips and reached for her drink.

  “What if I do feel a bit afraid?”

  Miranda paused and took a deep breath. She needed to get this moment right. “Well, it’s okay to be a little bit afraid, I guess. It’s pretty normal when you’re faced with a daunting task. But once you’ve realized you’re afraid, you need to turn the fear into excitement and anticipation. You love to play tennis. And you’re a natural. So, you need to go out there and love what you do. Have a riot.”

  Jodi grinned. “I do love it.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Jodi sipped her drink and returned her attention to the video. She gently elbowed Miranda.

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  Miranda suppressed a smile and got up from the bed. “Shall we watch the next one?”

  * * *

  The morning’s match ended quickly. Jodi powered through Cutelle as if she meant to take no prisoners. Miranda sat in the bleachers, smirking, her cap pulled low to block out the already beating hot sun. Jodi had clearly taken her pep talk to heart.

  In the locker room, Miranda was elated. “You looked like you enjoyed that!” Miranda exclaimed, placing a drink next to Jodi as Jodi unlaced her shoes.

  “Actually, I did,” Jodi replied. “I finally got over myself and had some fun.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “You were awesome. Jase will be sorry he missed that but I managed to get a bit of the match on video so we can send him some highlights.”

  “He’ll love that.” Jodi kicked off her shoes and grabbed her towel. “I’m disgustingly sweaty. I hate to think how hot it’s going to be out there by the afternoon. I’m going to grab a shower and we can get out of here.”

  * * *

  That night, with Jason on speakerphone, they filled him in on the day’s events and Jodi’s next opponent.

  “Kitchfield lost to Laurent,” Jodi told him. “I’ve got O’Reilly tomorrow. I remember her from that weird tournament in Dallas, like, forever ago.”

  “Oh yeah, she’s no match for you. I can’t believe she’s still hanging around.” Jason’s voice got serious. “Now go get your beauty sleep and call me tomorrow. I predict you will wipe up the court with her.”

  Jodi and Miranda both laughed and promised to call him after the match.

  Jason’s prediction turned out to be accurate. The next day, Jodi settled the match quickly in two straight sets: 6-0, 6-0.

  Miranda enjoyed the confidence and ease with which Jodi played, covering the court from top to bottom without hesitation. The tournament buzzed about Jodi and the press asked for interviews.

  “Make them wait until after the semifinals,” Jason had counseled. “Publicity is good but you both need to concentrate right now. Jodi doesn’t need the press poking and prodding her. She can give them a quick interview before the finals.”

  “That’s if I make it to the finals!”

  “The finals have your name written all over them, Jodes.”

  Jodi’s winning streak stretched through the week, but by Friday night she was holed up in her room with an icepack on her neck.

  “Don’t worry,” Miranda coached. “Worrying always makes things worse. If you worry, you’ll get all tight and sore. Just relax and breathe through it. The physical therapist says you’ll be fine by tomorrow. Your neck is just a little strained.”

  “What if it’s not?”

  “If it’s not, you’ll play with a slightly sore neck,” Miranda answered. “I’m sure you’ve played with worse injuries, no?”

  Jodi nodded ruefully. “I have. I once played a whole match with a broken bone in my foot.”

  “Okay! Well, there you go. I’m not sure that’s something you’d want to repeat, but I guess you get where I’m coming from. But really,” Miranda emphasized, “you’re going to be fine for tomorrow.”

  “I really want to win this.” Jodi’s voice was low and intense as she studied her hands.

  “I know you do, Jodi. And I don’t see any reason why you won’t.”

  “It’s Laurent. She’s playing incredibly well.”

  “And so are you. And you’re smarter and more experienced. She’s only been on the circuit for a couple of years. I’ve got no doubt she’s going to be a formidable force in the future, but she’s really not someone for
you to worry about right now. Let’s not lose our heads, okay?”

  Jodi nodded and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Moving the strap of her singlet, she flicked her long hair out of the way and adjusted the ice pack on her neck.

  “Hey, you want me to rub some more of that salve onto your neck before you hit the sack?” Miranda asked.

  “That’d be great, thanks.”

  Grabbing the tube of salve from the bathroom, Miranda stood next to the bed where Jodi sat, and placed her hands lightly on Jodi’s bare shoulders.

  “Now, just relax and try to let go of all your stress,” she said.

  The salve felt cool compared to the heat radiating from Jodi’s skin. Miranda pressed her thumbs gently into the tense muscles, remembering the massage techniques she had learned from a sports health course.

  “Oh God,” Jodi groaned and leaned back slightly. “That feels amazing.”

  “Pressure’s okay?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s perfect,” she purred.

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  The velvety softness of Jodi’s neck left Miranda a little breathless. As Jodi leaned back a bit more and rested against Miranda’s belly, the heat of their connection filled Miranda with desire. She wanted to wrap her arms around Jodi and kiss her, but instead withdrew her hands. She gave Jodi a little pat on the shoulder.

  “That should do it,” Miranda said primly.

  “Oh, thanks.” Jodi seemed surprised by Miranda’s abruptness. She swiveled around. “That was really nice.”

  “No problem. Now,” Miranda cleared her throat, “get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “All right.” Jodi stretched out on the bed. “Hope you sleep well too.”

  Miranda paused at the door. “You’re going to nail it tomorrow, Jodi,” she said. “This tournament is yours.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  Early the next morning, Jodi found Miranda at breakfast in the hotel dining room.

  “No pain.” Jodi grinned.

  “Excellent!” Miranda exclaimed.

  They ate what Miranda had coined a “finals breakfast,” consisting of eggs, a coffee for Miranda, and a protein shake for Jodi. It was enough to fuel her through her big match without making her feel heavy.