Page 60 of Drop Shot
“Okay.” I hum thoughtfully. “What about if you just lightly scratch the side of your nose like this?” I demonstrate.
She purses her lips, but nods. “Yeah, okay.”
The doors at our back open and I turn to see who’s exiting only to find a harried Jackson headed our way.
“Good, I caught you,” he says, looking a little pale. “Trager is here. No funny business.” He wags a finger in my face. “I mean it.” He turns to Whimsy. “Keep him in line or I swear to God?—”
I grab his wagging finger. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Surprise flares in his eyes at my tone. I quickly drop his finger and straighten my jacket. “We’ve got this.”
I’ve let Trager set me off more than I’d like to admit and it’s made worse by the fact that while he’s the one antagonizing me, somehow he always comes out smelling like roses. Bastard.
“Come on, Whim.” I take my fake-girlfriend’s hand in mine and sidestep my manager, heading into the room. It’s spacious, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the water. There are standing tables as well as ones for sitting. A buffet is set up along the left side and a live band play in the opposite corner, providing a backdrop behind the chatter of many voices.
I scan the people in attendance, but I’m really looking for one person.
Trager.
Solely so I can avoid that asshole.
“Should we grab a table?” Whimsy asks, nodding toward a free one.
I shake my head. Jackson wants me here to schmooze. He’d haul my ass up in my heartbeat and shove me into the waiting arms of someone here.
I spot Noah and Sabrina off to the side chatting with a former professional tennis player. Hugo Martin was the top French player about fifteen years ago. He’s a legend as far as I’m concerned.
“There’s Noah and Sabrina.” I point. “Let’s talk with them a bit.”
Whimsy seems relieved over the familiar faces. We head that way and Sabrina’s eyes widen in excitement when she spots us, giving a tiny inconspicuous wave.
“Oh, hey,” Noah greets as we step up to them. “Elias, have you met Hugo before?”
“A few years ago.” I extend my hand and Hugo shakes it. “Always a pleasure to see you.”
“Likewise,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I told my friends you’re one to watch. You, too.” He swings his gaze toward Noah. “America has really put forth some great players the past few years. Trager shows promise, but…” He shrugs. “He’s antagonistic. Too aggressive in my opinion. I saw how that went down between the two of you.” He shakes his head. “In my humble opinion, you were unfairly dragged for that whole situation.”
“It wasn’t ideal,” I agree. “But I should’ve kept my cool. I’m the more seasoned player.”
“Some opponents bring out the worst in us. Right, Marco?” He calls out to another former player nearby. The two of them had a stiff rivalry for nearly the entirety of their professional careers.
Marco pulls away from the group he’s chatting with and joins us, throwing an arm around Hugo. “What am I supposed to be agreeing to?”
Hugo smacks him on the chest. “That some opponents bring out the worst in us.”
Throwing his head back with laughter, Marco says, “That’s for sure. But without opponents like that what motivation do you have to try to get better? Besides, look at us now. Friends.”
Noah and I exchange a look and smile. Just a few years ago he thought of us as mortal enemies. Now, we’re good friends and play doubles together. Things can change.
Though, I don’t expect the same turn of events with Trager. Dude’s an asshole.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sabrina grab Whimsy’s wrist and whisper something to her. She nods and turns to me.
“I’m going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” She gives my hand a squeeze of assurance.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, because I find myself wanting to beg her to stay. I’ve always been confident in these kinds of situations, but suddenly Whimsy feels like my lifeline.
I watch the girls go.
“Dude.” Noah laughs, turning it into a cough. “You’re so down bad for her.”
