Page 6 of Match Point

I could almost hear him say the name before he actually said it.

“I’m the coach for Tristan Carfrae.”

3

Miranda

I stepped out of the cab in front of the ballroom and almost fell flat on my face. I grumbled as I adjusted my heels. I never had to wear these when I was still a player. Back then, I could get away with wearing tennis shoes everywhere—even when I was dressed formally.

“Told you coming here was a mistake,” Hamilton said as he exited the cab behind me.

“I just want to talk to Tristan. See why he wants me to consult.” I smoothed out my cocktail dress. “It’ll be quick. Twenty minutes. Besides, I’m the reigning champion. I should make an appearance.”

“I just don’t understand why you would want to work with another player,” he grumbled.

“You’ll get your cut,” I teased. “Even though I didn’t need you to get me this gig.”

“I’m not concerned about the money. Miranda, you’ve spent the past year telling me you’re burned out. That you’re ready to retire, ready to step back from tennis for a while before figuring out what to do next. That has been the plan all along. And suddenly, within a day of arriving in Melbourne, you’re changing your mind and jumping on the first coaching job that comes along.”

“It’s not a coaching job,” I replied as we walked toward the doors, my heelsclompingon the tile floor as if I were a prize horse. “It’s a temporary consultation.”

We flashed our badges to the security agent, who then opened the door for us. “What is this really about?” Hamilton asked me. “Is this personal?”

“No,” I said a little too quickly.

He frowned at me. “You attended the Lafayette Academy of Tennis. I believe that’s where Tristan also went. Did you two know each other?”

“We did not know each other at the Academy,” I replied. It was mostly the truth. Aside from seven seconds of kissing, and the phone number he gave me in the kitchen afterwards, the two of us had never even spoken.

“I don’t think you should take the gig,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t work with Tristan.”

It was my turn to frown at him. “Why areyouso opposed to this? And don’t tell me it’s for my own good. You’ve been my agent for most of my career. I know when you’re scheming.”

“I don’t scheme!”

“You absolutely scheme. It’s why I hired you.”

Hamilton laughed at that, then gave me a sideways look. “Tristan turned me down as an agent a long time ago.”

“Ah hah!”

“It would’ve made my career to sign an Aussie like him,” Hamilton said. “But he didn’t take my offer seriously. He made fun of me.” He scratched at his prosthetic eye.

“Thank you for your honesty,” I said as we entered the ballroom, soft violin music filling the open space. “But I’m going to consider their offer.”

“Very well.” Hamilton looked around the room. “If you need me, I’ll be looking for Tatjana Maria. My German is rusty, but I heard she’s unhappy with her representation. I need to expand my portfolio now that my star client has retired.”

I touched his arm, and he disappeared off into the crowd. I sighed as I looked around the room. I had been coming to these welcoming dinners for years, and typically hated them. Granted, that was because I was never able to drink at them since I usually had a match the next day. A server walked by with glasses of wine on a tray, and I accepted one with a smile. Retirement had its benefits.

As I gazed around, I realized I was one of only a few retired players here. Former champions were always invited—especially the reigning champion, although I wasn’t defending my title.

“There she is!” shouted Ashley Loggins, an American who was five years my junior and in the prime of her career. Next to her was Catherine Schultz, a German who was my age and struggling to stay ranked in the Top 100.

“How are you enjoying your retirement?” Catherine asked in very good English.

I raised my wine glass. “I can drink without worrying about how it will affect my game!”

“Cheers to that!” Ashley raised her glass of sparkling water. “Did you see the interview?”

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