Page 112 of Game Point
This time, it was my turn to answer, scoffing, ‘Oh you are.’
I knew her pain well enough, every player did. But there was a specific kind of anger that came with losing in the first round, especially at the level we played at. It was laced with embarrassment, one that threatened to swallow you whole, the kind that marked the end of careers.
Scottie added, ‘You haven’t felt it yet.’
‘It does help,’ I agreed.
Scottie turned to me with mock shock, her blue eyes wide. ‘Dylan Bailey agreed with me.’ She looked up. ‘Is the sky falling?’
I shook my head at her. But despite Scottie’s reaction, our relationship was transiting from enemies on court to something resembling friends off, and agreeing with her was still a rather new thing.
I turned back to Inés. ‘Just … think of Chloe’s backhand. Every time she broke your serve –’
She cut me off, her jaw locked with frustration. ‘Is this supposed to make me feel better?’
I hated reminding her of this pain, but I knew if she didn’t get it out, she’d carry it around with her for the rest of the season.
I continued. ‘Each time she challenged your shots and won.’ With each word, her hand gripped tighter around the handle until her knuckles turned white. ‘Those goddamn dropshots.’
Inés turned from me, the racket glided over her head in a perfect arch, before she smashed it down onto the pavement, screaming out her frustration. Her cry was painfuland raw as she slammed it into the ground again and again and again. She didn’t stop as the strings crumbled, the rim falling to pieces, until all that was left in her hand was a handle.
Inés straightened, her chest heaving heavily as she inspected her work – what was left of it held in her hand.
Inés 1–Racket 0
The warm summer wind blew around us as Scottie and I stood to the side, Inés not looking up from the broken pieces of graphite.
‘That’s the first one you’ve ever broken?’ Scottie asked, her voice astounded.
‘Yup.’ Inés tossed the handle in with the rest of the wreckage.
‘Not bad for a beginner,’ I mumbled, impressed by the damage. She’dsaidshe wasn’t angry, but her red face and panting breath told us something else. It was as if Inés Costa’s calm and collected voice of reason had, like her racket, snapped.
With a piercing glance, she looked at us, her arm stretched out towards us.
‘Pass me another,’ and with those words from her, I knew I was in for a treat of an evening.
‘I have to admit,’ Scottie turned to grin at me as we headed through the reception, ‘I’ve never been as terrified of Inés as I was tonight.’
I laughed, thinking of the wild look she had in her brown eyes when she was finished. ‘Our girl is now officially a serial racket killer.’
‘I mean one or two, fine,’ Scottie said, her eyes growingwide as she continued, her mouth open in shock. ‘But all five?’
It truly had been a sight to behold. Inés Costa took all five rackets in her bag to the ground. By the end, she seemed a little crazed, but it felt good for her to vent that rage. I felt better about letting her go get drunk with some of her other friends. She had let some of it out, now she could go blow off some steam.
‘I never really thought of her as an angry person.’ Scottie leant forward, pressing the button on the hotel lift. I turned, eyes scanning around the reception area and into the hotel bar, spotting a few of our competitors looking rather serious, some watching the TV, a recap of Inés and Chloe no doubt.
An intense match like that always made waves, especially when it was involving a player as well liked as Inés.
I turned back around to look at Scottie. ‘Does anyone really walk away from a match like that without at least a little bit of rage?’
‘I guess not. How are you feeling?’
Her question caught me off guard. I sometimes needed to remind myself to not get too defensive around her off court. I’d eat her alive during a match. But outside of that, our relationship was changing.
I swallowed, forcing my tone to be even. ‘I’m feeling good. You?’
‘Honestly, I’m a little afraid now I know what to expect from Chloe.’ She looked down at the floor, a small laugh escaping her. ‘All I can do is hope you have to play her before I do.’
