Page 68 of Backhanded Compliments

“Ugh,” Luca mutters. She turns her attention back to Vladimir. “I know I can’t have my cake and eat it too, but for once, I want to.”

Vladimir shrugs. “Maybe it’ll work out. Maybe it won’t. But I want you to make the best choices for yourself, and even if it all falls apart, Luca, you won’t be alone.”

Luca has to bite the inside of her cheek and stare at a spot on the floor to hold back her tears. “Thanks,” she says, her voice raspy.

Vladimir simply hums, giving Luca the space to collect herself. By the time she does, Juliette’s serve is about to be broken again.

The camera flashes over to Xinya’s box after she crushes one of Juliette’s weak returns down the line. Luca squints, almost certain that Remi Rowland is in the second row. It’s hard to tell with a hat pulled low over her face. Seeing other players in someone’s personal box is unusual, but Luca shakes it off. If anyone could get away with it, it would be a social butterfly and extrovert like Remi. It isn’tthatweird.

Although… maybe, eventually, she could sit in Juliette’s box. Antony Ricci might kill Luca for even attempting it, but she doesn’t mind the thought of watching Juliette courtside. Anticipating the hypothetical Twitter response does make her shiver, though.

The rest of the set does not go Juliette’s way. Xinya is one of the best returners on the tour. She is lightning-quick with decent volleys. Any ball Juliette leaves short, Xinya attacks and puts away with either a featherlight drop shot or an angled volley. Juliette loses the second set 6–2, with one final set for the match.

It’s grueling. Xinya holds easily, but Juliette struggles to keep the score even. Eventually, Juliette hangs on to send it to a tiebreaker.

“She’s playing too passively,” Vladimir says as Xinya prepares to serve. “She needs to move in, make Xinya defend instead of letting her play aggressively and dictate from the center of the court.”

Luca frowns. “Her forehand is misfiring, though,” she says.

“The best way for her to gain confidence is to hit out, to trust her muscle memory,” Vladimir says. “She will lose either way—by letting Xinya dictate the points or by hitting the ball out, but only one of those could lead to a win.”

Luca considers Juliette as she loses the first point to Xinya serve-and-volleying. Her shoulders are tense as she holds out her racket to the ball kid. She lets two of them roll behind her as she steps up to the baseline.

Luca has been on the wrong side of that serve during a tiebreaker. At first, she couldn’t figure out how to adjust to the strange lefty spinJuliette hooks onto her kick serve. Finally, Vladimir had urged her to step in and take the ball on the rise.

Which is exactly what Xinya does to take the point. Juliette should move forward, but she doesn’t. She hesitates, keeps the ball in the middle of the court, and hopes Xinya makes a mistake.

She doesn’t.

Xinya has Juliette on strings, moving from one side to the other until she whips a crosscourt angle and steals the minibreak. The crowd roars in awe, and Luca bites her already worn-down nails.

“Come on, Jules,” she mutters to herself.

As Juliette gathers her composure for the next point, Luca thinks about Vladimir’s tennis advice. It explains a bit of Juliette’s behavior in real life. All aggression and passion until she starts missing, then her confidence drains away.

Juliette doesn’t win another point, and the match ends on a rather anticlimactic ace from Xinya. Juliette slides the white headband off her forehead and shakes out her sweaty curls as she jogs to the net. She clasps Xinya’s hand and touches her shoulder. The announcers and the roar of the crowd keep Luca from being able to hear what they’re saying to each other, so she switches the broadcast to Nicky’s match. Guilt worms its way into her throat at the thought of the string of messages he’s sent that she hasn’t replied to yet. She should text him, but she clicks on Juliette’s name instead.

She knows Juliette won’t respond for a couple of hours, but she types out a message anyway. Perhaps this is her way of being more aggressive, going for what she wants. They won’t get anywhere by playing passively.

LUCA

Tough loss, Xinya’s a top player. You did play well.

If you’re looking to drown your sorrows in some bright sun, you could join me in Miami

Maybe she should add a winky face? Or is leaving it without a period better, more open-ended? Before she can overthink it anymore, she hits send and tosses her phone to the end of the couch, so she’ll have to sit up to get it again. Her chest constricts, but she stares up at the ceiling as if nothing is wrong.

Vladimir shuffles around the kitchen, ice clinking.

Luca’s phone buzzes and she lunges for it. It’s only a message from Nicky’s soulmate and on-again, off-again boyfriend, Magnus, about the match. She sighs and watches the lucky loser—a player who lost in qualifying for the main draw but got in because another player pulled out—march onto the court for his first quarterfinal. Nicky follows with a sunshine-smile, waving at the crowd as the announcer lists off his accomplishments.

As expected, it isn’t until Nicky is almost through his third set that her phone buzzes. She stares at where it lies facedown, hiding whatever message is waiting.

With a deep breath, she flips it over and opens the message.

JULIETTE

are you serious?

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