Page 38 of Match Point

“Good to see you again,” she said coyly.

“You too. It’s been a while.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, going to use the toilet.” He slunk away like a mouse trying to avoid a fight between two cats.

Miranda waved to the bartender and asked, “Do you know how to make a lemon vodka spritz?”

He furrowed his brow. “No, madam, I am sorry. But if you could tell me how…”

She pointed at my beer glass. “I’ll have what he’s having. Plus a refill for him.”

“I should be the one buying you a drink,” I said. “You should be more frugal with your money in retirement.”

“I’m broadcasting many of the televised games next week,” she replied, sitting on the stool Andrew had occupied. Her raven hair swayed as she twisted to face me. “No rest for the wicked.”

“Is that why you’re dressed nice?” I asked, gesturing at her body. “Some lead-up events before the tournament? Or did you have a date?”

The fire in her eyes flared. “It was a date.”

“And it went poorly?”

“Why do you think it went poorly?”

“Because,” I said, “you came storming into the hotel like you were going to punch the first person who got in your way. And you’re still clenching your jaw so tight I can hear your teeth grinding.”

Miranda visibly forced herself to relax. “My date canceled on me. Then I sort of had another date, but it… ended poorly, too.”

“Ahh.” I raised my glass. “To bad dates.”

She touched her beer to mine. “So, is it true?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Are you healthy?”

“As healthy as I’m going to be.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Come on. Anything minor or major? Nagging muscle soreness? A tendon that’s not at a hundred percent?”

“Zero issues, for the first time since I can remember,” I replied. “Shame the French is my weakest tournament.”

“If you’re healthy, you have a fighting chance,” she said. “The clay surface should help your game, if you can rely on your serve. Get to the net quickly. Don’t give your opponents a chance to draw out long points.”

“I’ve received the exact same advice from my coach, whose opinion I pay for.”

“Well, my advice is free. This time.” Our beers arrived, and she downed half of it without a word. “What happened last time, Tristan?”

“Again, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I’m talking about Australia.”

“Oh. Well then. It’s a big island. British penal colony where they sent all their criminals. That’s why we’re so ornery.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance, but I could tell she wanted to laugh. “You know what I’m asking, Tristan. Why didn’t you take my advice on your backhand?”

“I didn’t think it would work.”

“Bullshit,” she said, turning to face me directly. She jabbed a finger into my chest. “I still remember that morning like it was yesterday. You were receptive to the changes I wanted to make. You weretrying. But as soon as someone walked in and saw us, you changed. And I think I know why.”

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