Page 40 of Bad Summer People
Robert nearly fell from the bench.
“That’s too much. How do you even know that it’ll work? I was thinking it would be more of an internship opportunity, and that would be fine by me.”
“Oh, kid, just take a good offer when you hear one. That’s lesson number one,” said Larry. “My sons are off in Europe, partying away their inheritance. It’ll be nice to have a young man around who wants to learn the ropes. The one catch is that you’ll have to give me free tennis lessons.”
“Yes, I will! That sounds perfect. Thank you so much,” said Robert, nearly vibrating with happiness.
“Let’s start the week after Labor Day,” said Larry. “You’ll have to find yourself an apartment, but I trust you can take care of that.”
“Certainly, yes,” said Robert. Larry stuck out his hand, and Robert shook it vigorously. “I won’t let you down,” he said to Larry as they walked off the court.
“You’d better not,” Larry said, laughing.
That was a couple of hours ago, and Robert was still high on the idea that he’d get to stay in the city for the year and work for Larry, even if it was just charity. Either way, Robert was committed to working his ass off in any capacity Larry needed.
Micah had gone back inside, so Robert went out to the stadium court, brushing it back and forth with the large broom, making it perfect for the finals. He hadn’t seen Lauren since she’d left after the semis, and he was looking forward to watching her play again.
People were starting to arrive for the match, which was Robert’s cue to shut himself in his hut and chill at his desk for the time being. He didn’t like to hang out with the members during tournaments, as one by one they’d approach him for his thoughts on the matchup. He couldn’t bring himself to seriously opine as if they were at Wimbledon. Vicky Mulder was in her fifties.
He paged through his lesson ledger, noting the empty hours during which he’d really been teaching. He’d been getting a little bold, hiding two lessons a day for the past couple of weeks, but now that he had a job lined up, he’d pull back. Maybe he’d stop entirely. He’d used his weekly salary to pay off his credit card bills, and he had that $16,000. Plus, he’d still get 20 percent of the lesson pool from the club—hopefully that would at least be another $10,000. That should be more than enough to secure him a small place and pay the security deposit. If he got caught now, it’d all be for nothing.
There was a loud knock on the door, which swung open before Robert could get up to answer. Susan Steinhagen was there, all dolled up in her favorite tennis skirt, like a kid at her own birthday party. This was Susan’s moment. Robert couldn’t even imagine back in the day when Susan used to both runandwin the tournament. She played with the other seniors now, begrudgingly. Every time she used the wordsenior,she scrunched up her nose like she was smelling something rotten.
“The time has come,” she said ominously. He knew she was just referring to the finals, but it still sounded like a threat. She glanced down at his ledger, still open to today’s date. “You working on bookkeeping?”
Robert shut the ledger with a thud, harder than he’d meant to.
“Just dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s,” he said with a forced smile. His charm was powerless against Susan Steinhagen; she was the one person in town who wasn’t half in love with him.
“Shall we get to it, then,” he said, ushering her out of the doorway.
The viewing area was packed. There were probably fifty people lining the benches all the way around the court, plus an additional forty or so standing up behind them. It had the feel of a carnival. The smell of popcorn mixed with beer, a buzzy chat ringing through the late-summer air. The two teams were already out on the court warming up, hitting ground strokes back and forth down the line.
Lauren looked great, freshly outfitted in a blue Adidas dress, her hair shining in the afternoon sun. Jen was less radiant than usual, but Robert couldn’t put his finger on why. She was in all blue as well, a skirt and tank combo, but her face was pinched.She must just be nervous,thought Robert. She had the least tournament experience of them all.
Robert surveyed the crowd. He didn’t see Sam or Jason, which was strange. Lauren and Jen’s friends were huddled in a little group. Lisa, Emily, Brian, Paul—where was Rachel? Robert couldn’t believe she’d miss this, even after her heartbreaker earlier this morning. On the opposite end of the court was the rival gang—Beth Ledbetter, Jessica Leavitt, Jeanette Oberman. They were all wearing red in solidarity (Vicky and Janet wore matching red tennis skirts every year) and drinking vodka sodas out of plastic cups. The town’s allegiances were divided evenly.
Robert, in his official Salcombe Yacht Club tennis polo, took a seat close to the court. He was the nominal linesman, though his role was only to make sure there weren’t any egregious errors; he didn’t call balls in or out. He also kept track of the score so that no one could steal points. He’d found in his career that women were, as a whole, huge cheaters. It surprised Robert that women were worse than men in this regard, but perhaps men just saved it for their lives outside tennis. Salcombe was the same.
The game started, and the crowd hushed, sort of. He could still hear Beth Ledbetter cackling about something. “Quiet, please!” Susan boomed from her seat, cupping her hands around her mouth for dramatic effect. Jason and Sam were still absentee. Robert knew people would notice and start whispering about it. The entire village was here, but not the two husbands of the underdogs? Robert was worried something was wrong. Rachel hadn’t shown, either.
Jen and Lauren started off shakily. They were both stiff and not hitting with their normal pace. Jen was stopping her shots midway without following through, and Lauren was dinking it over instead of stepping into the ball. Vicky and Janet pounced, going up a quick 3–0, breaking Lauren’s serve. At the changeover, Robert saw both Jen and Lauren searching the spectators, possibly looking for their husbands. He locked eyes with Lauren, but she didn’t smile at him, instead averting her gaze and whispering something to Jen before they headed back out to the court.
As the game resumed, Lauren and Jen loosened up. Lauren began hitting with her normal power, and Jen was finding angles, getting the ball behind Janet when she ran to the net. They tied it up at 3–3 and then jumped ahead to 5–4. Robert hadn’t had to interject about the score or calls, and he was hoping they’d close out the set before he did.
No such luck. Vicky was serving at 40–30; if she won the game, they’d be tied at 5–5 and likely headed toward a tiebreak. If they lost, Jen and Lauren would take the set, and the upset would be well underway. Her first serve to Jen was out, wide. Her second serve, a spinny, slice-y, confusing number, skidded at the back of the box.
“Out,” said Jen, holding up her finger to indicate.
There was a low murmur from the onlookers.
“That was in,” Robert heard Beth say loudly.
Lauren’s face reddened—she knew her partner was lying.
“Are you sure?” asked Vicky from the back of the court.
“Jen’s cheating,” Robert heard someone sitting behind him say.
