Page 25 of Long Shot

“That’s my daughter!” Kimberly cheered as Taylor set her bag down by the door. From the looks of it, Kim was already a glass or two in. The only time she ever let loose like this was after Taylor won an Open.

For the second year in a row, Taylor took home the Suzanne Lenglen cup… and the $2.3 million that came with it.

Taylor took the glass of champagne, knowing that it would get her way more tipsy than she’d like. But after weeks of avoiding anything that wasn’t kale and clean protein, a little drink was all she wanted.

“Thanks, Mom.” Taylor clinked her glass against Kim’s.

From behind her mom, Gerald stepped forward with his own glass. “You played well.” He winked at Taylor as they raised their glasses.

Just as Taylor took a sip, Kim started in. “Next Open, you’ll do it without all that nonsense from the quarterfinal. There was no reason for a third set against Mackenzie, let alone a tiebreak.”

Taylor’s jaw clenched. “I hear you. I’m actually really tired.”

Kim opened her mouth, ready to keep coaching. But Gerald placed a gentle hand on Kim’s back. “We’ll let you rest, sweetie.”

As Gerald shepherded his wife out of the suite, Kim looked back at her daughter. Taylor felt her body tense under the gaze. Her dad might have managed to get Kim out of the room, but it was clear what waited for her back in New York.

Maybe I should stay at my place for a bit.

The next morning, Taylor was woken by a blaring alarm. The sun had barely risen, but it was time to catch her flight back to the states.

Still half asleep, Taylor tossed her clothes into her luggage before moving on to toiletries. When she landed and returned to her place, dry cleaning would be sent out and returned folded, so there was no point being precious about any of it.

Her room was cleaned up in a matter of minutes. She tore off her pajamas, stuffing them into one of the remaining suitcases. Pulling on a pair of joggers, Taylor rubbed at the bruises forming on her leg. The size of her hands, they were a marker of the hard fights she had won on the court over the last two weeks. She winced as her fingers pressed into the tender flesh.

Once she was dressed, a knock came from the door.

She opened it to reveal a cart, ready for her luggage. A bellhop loaded each case, except the tiny backpack that Taylor carried on her shoulder.

Leaving him to finish loading up, Taylor took the elevator down to the lobby. Kim and Gerald waited for her by the front door, equally unencumbered.

As Taylor passed the front desk, she waved to François. “Thanks, Frank.”

Smiling, François called out to her, “Congratulations on your victory.”

Kim crossed her arms as Taylor approached. “The flight crew told me your bags are going to your Manhattan apartment.”

Taylor nodded. “Yeah, I just want to go enjoy the city while I’m home.” The truth was, June was the only month this summer that she wouldn’t be traveling. And that wasn’t an accident. Pride in New York was unlike anything else she’d experienced.

Plus, New Yorkers knew how to mind their business. Seeing celebrities was not a rare occurrence. When the rare patron recognized Taylor, it was hardly worth any fanfare. In all the years she had snuck out for pride, not a single story ever leaked about her presence there.

It doesn’t hurt that most of them are plastered, either.

Clearing his throat, Gerald smiled. “What’s the point of owning such a gorgeous place if you never get to stay in it?”

Kim started walking toward the front doors. “It’s a smart investment.”

Before either of them could argue, Kim was halfway down the front steps.

Gerald wrapped his arm around Taylor’s shoulder. “Just be careful out and about, people can be… exploitative.”

“I know, Dad. I’m always careful. Besides, the reporters only ever see me covered in sweat. I doubt they’d recognize me anyother way.” Taylor laughed, comforted by the warmth of her dad’s side hug.

Gerald shrugged. “To be fair, I’m not sureIremember what that looks like.”

The trip home was tense and quiet. Kim kept her eyes trained out the car window and hardly uttered a word on the plant. It wasn’t until they touched down on the tarmac in JFK that Kim broke her silence. “Don’t be late to practice tomorrow. And for god’s sake, take a car. Don’t you dare step on that horrid train.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, but let her hand rest on her mom’s shoulder. “I’ll be on time.” She was pretty sure Kim hadn’t ridden any type of public transit in at least thirty years. Once Taylor stood from her seat, a flight attendant passed her the racket bag.

---