Match Point Page 19

“Are you sure?” Jodi took a step closer and Miranda felt her heart jump.

  “Really, I’m fine.” Miranda edged back, widening the distance between them.

  “So, how’s it all going with the Juniors?” Jodi asked carefully.

  “Oh, it’s really great. They’re really coming into themselves,” Miranda said and smiled in spite of herself. “They challenge me, but I like their fresh ideas and passion.”

  Jodi nodded, smiling as well. “I remember being a Junior. The world feels amazing when you’re at that age. Full of promise and so…” She seemed to search for a word: “Conquerable.”

  Miranda grinned. “I felt that way too. Maybe that’s why I can relate to them so well.”

  “You played Junior tournaments? Jase mentioned you had been in the Juniors but I didn’t know you’d actually qualified for tournaments. No wonder you’re such a good player.”

  “Yeah.” Miranda looked away, her gaze traveling to the courts.

  “What happened?”

  Miranda felt her eyes cloud over. “I got sick.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Jodi said quietly, concern written on her face.

  “It’s okay.” Miranda shrugged. “It was a while ago now. I’m more than over it.”

  “What happened? Do you mind me asking?”

  “When I was seventeen,” Miranda paused, bringing her gaze back to Jodi’s face, “I got cancer. I had to stop playing for a few years. By the time I could return to the court my fitness had gone, my edge was lost and it was too late for me.” She smiled ruefully. “I drifted around for a few years and finally found my way back to tennis through coaching.”

  “Wow.” Jodi paused, as if to take it all in. “That must have been hard.”

  “It was. But I love tennis, and I’m glad with all that I am to be back here. And I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that,” Miranda said, surprising herself with a small flare of anger. Jodi hadn’t been the only one with interests to protect. She herself had risked her position at the club with hardly a thought.

  “I understand.”

  Miranda caught the undertone of meaning in Jodi’s voice.

  “I’m sure you do. Well, I’d better get these rackets off to be restrung.”

  “Would you like to hit some balls with me before you go?”

  “Oh, I…” Miranda trailed off, looking at her watch, “I really can’t. I’ve got to get these in before five o’clock or they won’t be ready for tomorrow’s session.”

  “Of course.” Jodi smiled—Miranda thought—a little wistfully.

  “I could do it another time, if you need a hitting partner, that is. You’ve got Steven now though, right?” Miranda’s attempt to sound casual came out awkwardly, even to her own ears. She had struggled with the decision to call Jodi and personally let her know she wasn’t going to continue on the team, but in the end she had taken the cowardly way out, deciding that Jason had employed her so she only really needed to tell Jason. She had convinced herself that it was the best decision, but now, standing before Jodi, she regretted it. She should have called Jodi and told her personally. Well, it’s too late to say something now, Miranda thought.

  “Yeah, Steven is great. It’s all good, I just thought if you were free now we could have a hit, but you’re busy, so don’t worry.” Jodi took a step forward, her dark eyes serious. “Miranda, about Vancouver, I’m sorry, I-”

  “Please don’t,” Miranda cut in, her heart lurching. The last thing she needed right now was another explanation from Jodi about why she didn’t want to be with her. “Please, let’s just put it behind us. We’ve both agreed it was a mistake and I think we’ve said all we need to say on that.” She took a step backward, shifting the weight of the rackets in her arms.

  Jodi studied her face for a moment, her voice quiet as she simply said, “Okay.”

  Miranda paused, feeling uncertain. She wanted to say more but felt unsure of what to say. Surely Jodi could understand? It was simply too painful to go back over it all again.

  “I’d better let you go,” Jodi said, nodding toward the bundle of rackets. “See you around, Miranda.”

  “I…good luck for next week.” Clutching the rackets, Miranda backed away and turned in the direction of the repair shop. Don’t look back, she counseled herself. Just keep walking.

  Jodi watched Miranda leave. Her heart constricted painfully at the sight of the straight line of Miranda’s back, the swing of her blond hair turned golden under the sun. Two weeks apart had left an ache of longing that had turned into a roar the moment she had seen Miranda head into the equipment shed. Jodi wasn’t supposed to have been there this afternoon. She had come on a whim, telling herself she needed to do some more work on her serve, ignoring the little voice inside her that protested, insisting she had already trained hard enough in the morning.

  Grabbing the ball trolley, Jodi wheeled it out of the shed into the afternoon sun. She couldn’t deny that she missed Miranda. Was that what she had been going to tell her? The words had begun to tumble out of her, almost of her own accord. She wondered where she might have ended up if Miranda had not cut her off. She missed working with Miranda. She missed Miranda’s words of encouragement, her well-timed pieces of advice, and even her little dances of glee when she managed to return one of Jodi’s particularly difficult shots. Jodi found she kept looking for Miranda across the court when she was training, but the serious face of Steven, her new assistant coach, was a stark reminder of Miranda’s absence. Jodi wanted to talk with her after training, to grab a water and head to the shower blocks, to chat and laugh easily about everything and nothing. She missed Miranda’s face first thing in the morning, coffee in hand, waiting by the courts for their first training session. She missed their shared lunches and “dinners of war,” the nickname they had given their evening strategy sessions.

  Jason’s news had felt like a slap, but she had accepted it with a shrug. Jodi knew he had wanted to ask more but thankfully he hadn’t and she hadn’t offered up anything further. What more could she say? Jodi had basically made it impossible for Miranda to stay, and while she was hurt by the news, she couldn’t say she was surprised. Jodi found herself training harder than she ever had before. She threw herself physically and mentally into the game, leaving no room for anything but tennis. And yet still, as she would crawl exhausted into bed at the end of the day, a picture of Miranda’s bright, smiling face would flash behind her tired eyes. And as she drifted off to sleep, her pillow would be wet with tears.

  Jodi was frustrated with herself. Where’s my self-control, she thought as she set herself up to serve on the court. Thumping a ball across the net she tried to calm her mind, but she couldn’t shake the vision of Miranda standing before her, all rosy-cheeked and desirable.

  She hadn’t known Miranda had been sick. Whack. She sent another ball flying across the court, pushing herself harder than ever. Why hadn’t she known that? They had known each other for almost two months now; they had traveled together across the country, and spent more time together than Jodi had spent with anyone since she had broken up with Tara. I didn’t even spend this much time with Tara in the last few years, she acknowledged ruefully. You didn’t know because you didn’t ask. Jodi smashed a ball wildly out of the court, cursing as she lined up again. You’re too focused on yourself. She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the voice inside her. The words were only punishing because they were true.

  Well, it’s too late now, she thought, crossing to the other side of the court with the ball trolley. When she hadn’t heard a word from Miranda for over a week, she had started to feel uneasy. She hadn’t expected Miranda to leave the team. She had known it might be awkward between them as they tried to move on from Vancouver, but she had thought they could get past it. But now, obviously, their professional relationship was done, and so was their fragile, yet budding friendship. Some friendship. I didn’t even know anything about her. Slamming a ball ferociously into the net, Jodi cried out in frustratio
n as a pinch of pain ran up her side. Dejectedly, she dropped her racket, knowing that to go on would be pushing things too far. She sat for a moment on the bluestone wall at the edge of the court, and let her head fall into her hands. What had she been going to say to Miranda, she wondered. She didn’t even know. She just knew she missed her.

  Jodi rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had won the wild card. The official letter had come in the mail, and she had stuck it on the fridge in her hotel room with a quick thrill of pride. She had won. And yet the dull ache she constantly felt inside her told her she had also lost, utterly and completely.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Enid, you have to come to this party with me, I cannot go alone,” Miranda begged, desperately hoping Enid would take pity on her.

  “But what about Abby? We were supposed to go out tonight.” Enid didn’t sound convinced.

  “Bring her too, I don’t care. We’ll go all together. I just can’t face this night on my own.”

  “Miranda,” Enid sighed impatiently on the phone. “What’s the problem? It’s a party at your own clubhouse, for Pete’s sake. You’ll know everyone there.”

  “It’s a party for Jodi.”

  “And?”

  “And I need backup. Everyone will be there to celebrate her getting the wild card and they’ll start asking me why I’m not on the team anymore and I can’t bear it.”

  “So you think having Abby and I there to hold your hand will make it better?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It won’t, Miranda. They’ll ask you anyway, and if they don’t ask you tonight, they’ll ask you the next time they see you. You just need to stay calm and tell them it’s because you’re in love with Jodi.”

  “Enid!” Miranda spluttered indignantly. “I am not in love with Jodi.” She hadn’t been able to bring herself to bare her broken heart to Enid. Enid was so happy with Abby, in the honeymoon flush of their new relationship, that Miranda hadn’t felt like bringing down the mood. “Anyway,” she continued stoically, “I’m over all that and you know it.”

  “Okay, okay, sorry! Just tell them what you told Jason,” continued Enid. “The pressure was too much for you, tell them you missed your Juniors. Two seconds later, it’ll be old news.”

  “So you won’t come?”

  “It’s not that I won’t come, I just don’t think it will make things better for you. It will look weird if you turn up to Jodi’s party with a couple of strangers.”

  “But you’re not strangers—she knows you.”

  “Yes, but it’s not like we’re all great friends from way back. Go to the party, Miranda. Stay for an hour or so and sneak out. No one will notice,” Enid advised.

  “So you’re abandoning me.”

  Enid chuckled. “I’m not abandoning you. I’m helping you to grow up.”

  “Well, if this is growing up, it’s stupid.”

  “Yes, well, growing up is definitely stupid. Now ring me afterward and come and find us. We’re going to that new bar on Fifty-Seventh.”

  Miranda checked herself in the mirror one more time, smoothed her hair into place and adjusted her shirt. After rejecting everything in her wardrobe at least twice, she had eventually settled on a pair of slim black pants and a sailor-striped shirt. She eyed herself critically for a moment, trying to imagine how others would see her. She knew she was pretty; she’d certainly had her fair share of offers in noisy bars and clubs, based on what could only be looks, but tonight she couldn’t seem to see herself that way. In her reflection, she could only see herself in parts: large blue eyes, overly wide mouth, and slightly crooked nose. She felt like a puzzle she had forgotten how to put back together. She took a deep breath, trying to breathe some life into her aching heart. Come on, she willed herself, get over this please.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, startling her out of her reverie. She glanced at the display. “Enid? Changed your mind?” Miranda asked hopefully.

  “I don’t think so. Are you there yet? Why are you answering your phone?”

  “I haven’t left yet.”

  “Miranda! You’re supposed to be there. Get out of the bathroom and get into your car!”

  “Wait! How did you—” Miranda laughed, suddenly not surprised that her best friend had known she would be in the bathroom panicking over what to wear.

  “Because I just know. Now get going. You’re going to be late.”

  “Okay, okay! I’m leaving now.” Miranda rang off, shaking her head. “Off you go then,” she muttered to herself as she opened the closet door. She chose a light jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. “You’ll have a great time.”

  Wishing she believed it, she clattered down the stairs, calling goodbye to Eddie as she slammed the front door shut.

  The little clubhouse was packed to the rafters with well-wishers. Apparently every man and his dog had come to celebrate Jodi’s wild card win and wish her luck for the Open. Pushing open the doors to the club, Miranda swore silently, realizing it would have been absolutely fine for her to bring Enid and Abby. As it was, she barely recognized most of the crowd.

  Miranda ducked under an enormous, slightly askew, Good Luck sign adorning the entrance and, spying a drinks table, made her way through the crowd to snag a glass of wine. She would need at least one of those to make it through the evening. Balloons and tinsel hung from the ceiling; the decorations brightened up the room.

  “Miranda! Hi!” A group of her Juniors rushed toward her, their faces alight with excitement.

  “Hi Jessie, Becca, Thomas. Hi Nathan. You made it, huh?”

  “Oh my God, we wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Jessie beamed, her smile a match for those of her fellow players.

  “I can’t believe she’s going to the US Open,” Becca squeaked. “I’m so excited I could pop. It’s my dream, you know,” she sighed, her eyes far away. “One day I’m going to win the US Open.”

  “Same,” Thomas added, his voice breaking lightly as he grinned, self-conscious of his uncontrollably teenaged voice box.

  “Me too, bro,” Nathan joined in, high-fiving Thomas.

  Miranda smiled indulgently. “Well, if you’re all going to win it, I hope you won’t have to play each other. I won’t know who to cheer for.”

  The youngsters looked at each other uncertainly for a moment. “We can all just win it in different years!” Jessie announced, inspiring a round of happy yeahs and fist bumps.

  “I hope we get to meet her,” Becca said. “Can you introduce us, Miranda?”

  “Introduce you to whom?” The voice over Miranda’s shoulder caused her heart to skip a beat. She whirled around and came face-to-face with Jodi, stunning in a rakish black cowboy shirt and her trademark black jeans. Her hair was out, softly framing her face, falling long and straight down her back, her dark eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Jodi! Uh, we were just talking about you. Good timing.”

  “Oh my God! It’s her!” Becca squealed, squeezing forward and elbowing Miranda out of the way. “Ms. Richards, I’m a huge fan.”

  Jodi laughed and reached out a hand to steady Miranda, in danger of toppling over a potted plant as the Juniors crowded forward.

  “Whoa, guys,” Miranda cried, finding her feet with a grin at Jodi. “Let’s all just take a step back. Now, Jodi, these are some of my Juniors: Becca, Jessie, Thomas and Nathan. Guys, this is Jodi.”

  “We’re so pleased to meet you, Ms. Richards.” Jodi shook hands with each of the eagerly waiting teenagers. “We’re all big fans of yours and we just know you’re going to win the Open.”

  “Wow! Thanks, guys. Call me Jodi, please.” Jodi gave them a wide smile. “Actually, I’m probably one of the least likely players to win it this year! At this stage I’m hoping just to make it to Round Four, which as you know would be a pretty great start.” The Juniors nodded at her seriously, pleased to be given an insight into her plans. “But what’s great,” Jodi went on, “is that now that I’ve made it into the US Open I can start doing the
other big grand slams and my ranking will stay high. And who knows,” she looked around at their enthusiastic faces, “maybe one day I’ll win it.”

  “Yeah, you will!” Nathan cried, his face full of enthusiasm.

  “You’ll have to watch out though, Jodi,” Miranda added with mock seriousness, “these guys have all set their sights on winning the US Open trophy too, so you’ll have to win it soon if you don’t want one of my Juniors to beat you to the punch.”

  Jodi’s eyes twinkled as she grinned at the group. “I can already tell I’m going to have some stiff competition here. I tell you what, how about I come by one afternoon and have a hit with you when I’m done with the Open?” She turned questioning eyes to Miranda. “If that’s okay with your coach?”

  “Of course it’s okay with her, isn’t it Miranda?” Jessie chimed in quickly, her face shining with excitement.

  “Of course.” Miranda nodded, pleased for her players to be receiving such attention. She knew this would make their night, and the promise of playing with a pro like Jodi would fuel their continuing fire for excellence. “That would be great, Jodi.”

  “Jodi, there you are!” The unmistakably silken tones of Lisa Sevonny’s voice cut through their conversation as the ever-gorgeous publicist stepped up beside Jodi, wrapping an arm around her waist.

  “Darling, you simply must come with me, I’ve got about a hundred people lined up waiting to wish you good luck.”

  Miranda thought she saw a flicker of irritation cross Jodi’s face, but decided she had been wrong when Jodi politely acquiesced. Jodi said a graceful goodbye to the Juniors, who wished her luck and reminded her of her promise to come and train with them one day.

  Miranda watched Jodi go, noting Lisa’s proprietorial hand resting on her back and wondered if things had changed between them. It was obvious that Lisa wanted Jodi. Had Jodi finally succumbed to the charms of the seriously good-looking, if a little bitchy, publicist?

  “Come with us, Miranda,” Becca cried, grabbing her hand. “There’s actually an ice sculpture at the back of the room and it pumps out lemonade. You’ve got to try it.”