Page 24 of The Game

When she comes back on, she says, “The worst thing about Pepper is that she was a present from Arty.”

“She was a gift from an awful boyfriend? Ugh.”

“Exactly.”

“I could say something trite here like sometimes the best things come from the worst things, but honestly, that’s bullshit and it sucks that Pepper was a present from him.”

“Yeah, it does. Most of the time I forget about it, because otherwise every time I looked at her it would remind me.” Her breath whispers in my ear. “He’s trying to take her away from me.”

“Oh, fuck. Are youkiddingme?”

“It’s going to cost in the region of two hundred thousand dollars in legal fees, or so my lawyers tell me. Arty’s determined to go to court.”

“What?”

“When you reach the top of something, people file lawsuits against you all the time.” She tuts. “I’m sorry, I must sound like some whiny diva to you.”

“God, Anna, no. You’re a professional tennis player. It’s not like you’re onDancing with the Starsor something. What the hell do people take you to court for?”

“Copyright infringement, mistreatment of staff, employment law, abuse. Sometimes, like this, it’s for the publicity. You name it, people do it.”

“What do they get out of it?”

“Money, usually. But mostly it’s a raised profile. That’s why Arty is going after Pepper. He was always doing shit like this, plotting his next move to generate press coverage. I think he was delighted when we split up. Perhaps he even engineered it deliberately so he could milk it for all it was worth. Sponsors pay for column inches. Performance can be secondary.”

It’s a clear reminder that our relationship might end up being measured in column inches, too. The thought tastes a little sour. Anna is a nice person, and fun, too. I’m glad we agreed on friends: It gives this a relaxed vibe I wasn’t expecting, and we both seem to be thinking this will be a bit of fun. But, given her profile, there’s bound to be speculation, too. Will we have to go through some dramatic breakup for the sake of column inches? A shiver runs down my spine.

“I don’t want to be a disappointment, but I am not the guy for creating a drama that gets publicity.”

She hoots in my ear. “God, no, Adam, you have no idea how little I want that. It can mushroom out of control so fast. I want to keep the comments about my tennis where they belong, before and after games, and damp downall the speculation about fitness and performance and who’s a rival of who, to allow me to relax into my game. Is that selfish? Believe me, after the last two years, the last thing I want is drama. I’m delighted you’re a no-drama kind of guy.”

After seeing all the remarks about the event and me afterward, I get it now. “That doesn’t sound selfish to me; it sounds sensible.”

“Anyway, send me the details for the jujitsu. I’d love to come along.”

I’m ridiculously flattered by this, who wouldn’t be when a gorgeous woman wants to come and see you fight? I’m getting attached to Anna, I can tell I am, and warmth is washing through my bloodstream. She’s a delightful person, fun and a total surprise. But it’s not like I’m interested in stepping into another relationship or anything. I can keep this about being friends. Easy-peasy.

10

ANNA

My chest fills like a balloon when I see the arena and all the mats on the central floor. I’m attending a sporting event that I’m not competing in, and even better, one I know nothing about. A carousel of images from when I used to compete on the nonprofessional circuit flood my mind: my dad … my Russian tennis coach, Konstantin. A shiver runs down my spine. I didn’t give Adam an honest explanation about my relationship with Konstantin’s friend Pietr, but how could I?

As I head up into the stands, I pull my ball cap down over my head and slide my sunglasses up my nose. But the small stadium is filled with parents watching their kids fight: Who’s interested in some random woman weaving her way through the crowd? How many tennis fans would even be here? They’ll all be martial arts people who don’t know who I am.Get over yourself, Anna!Settling into my seat, I avoid eye contact and focus on the central floor. Adam is standing off to the side in a white suit in a line of other competitors. God, how familiar that is—the waiting. After I’ve been sitting there for ten minutes without anybody asking for an autograph, my spine starts to unwind.

They all walk toward their respective mats, and the first person Adam’s competing against is a stocky, burly-looking guy, considerably bigger thanAdam.Ugh.I don’t love that.Adam bows to his opponent, theA. Millerclear on the back of his top, the referee raises his hand, and they launch at one another. And whoa! My heart leaps into my throat at how fast and aggressive the other fighter is. His leg sweeps out, and in seconds they’re grappling on the floor, hands white-knuckled on the edge of each other’s tops. Mr. Burly flips Adam over, and Adam twists him straight back. The muscles in his legs and forearms strain as he struggles to grip on to his opponent’s jacket, and they’re flipping and grappling, flipping and grappling … Damn! Adam gets the guy into some kind of lock that he’s trying to wriggle out of and break Adam’s hold. Sweat is already making Adam’s hair darken and stick to the side of his head. The crowd’s noise builds, as the other guy does something with his leg again until the referee makes some kind of signal, breaking them apart. Some points go up on the board for Adam.

This is riveting!

They both stand, and Adam lifts the corner of his jacket to wipe the sweat off his brow giving everyone a flash of some very toned abs. Good Lord, he’s this quiet easy guy, but he does … this! It’s like there’s a rod of steel running right through him.

They circle again, batting their hands at each other. Mr. Burly gets hold of Adam’s jacket, bending over with his arms down around Adam’s leg as he drives Adam backward. Adam tries to twist out of his grip, and they careen off the edge of the mat and the referee raises his hand.

As the fight carries on, Adam’s skill is clearly winning him the match. I thought he said he wasn’t very good? The jujitsu videos yesterday didn’t prepare me for this. It’s neck-and-neck, hard-fought, and the burly guy is leaning in all the time with his weight.Ispol’zuyte vse svoi preimushchestva!—use all your advantages! The voices in my head from whenever I was losing never go away.

Eventually, the match draws to a close and Adam has more points than his opponent, but his face is red and his hair is plastered to his temples—it’s taken everything he’s got. God, is this what it’s like to be a coach? … My dad? Sitting on the sidelines, stewing? I’m not sure I could do it. I’m going to breed puppies and work in Adam’s business when I retire.What the hell, Anna?You’re notwithAdam … Martina Navratilova played senior tennis for years after she retired: That’s what I’m going to do. I want to stay in the USA. I love training here. Coming back here every year between tournaments has eased all the fear and uncertainty I’ve had about being coerced into going back to Russia. I’d do anything to keep it that way.

Watching Adam’s second match I feel a wave of nausea creeping up my throat. He’s getting annihilated—held down in so many positions. God!Losing!I clench my fists in my lap.

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