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“You too, sir.”
“Oh now, I don’t need luck.” Art tossed his racquet from one hand to another. “I’m the best.”
“The best braggart,” Frank said under his breath, but loud enough for me, and quite possibly Art, to hear. “Thirty years I’ve been playing with this blowhard!”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I chuckled as Frank crouched closer to the ground, gripping his racquet, with a gleam in his eye. My partner looked serious, eager to crush our opponents.
Art hit a tennis ball right at Frank, and the old man lunged but wasn’t fast enough. The curses that spewed from his mouth actually made me blush. Art howled with laughter, then said, “Come on, Frank. You’re going to scare the kids away. Let’s play.”
After a few more garbled swears, Frank righted himself. He leaned toward me. “Let’s crush this fucker. At least once in my life, I need to crush him!”
“You’ve never beaten him?” I easily hit the serve back to Lucas.
“No way! He’d never let me play here again!”
“Thirty years, and you never beat him once?” I volleyed the ball back, and Lucas hit it into the net.
&n
bsp; “Goddammit!” Art yelled, his face red with fury. “What the hell was that?”
“Not a big deal.” Lucas shook his head. “Sir.”
“I’ll tell you what’s a goddamned big deal or not—”
“Um, let’s just play, okay?” I nodded at Art, who looked positively flabbergasted at my interruption. “I mean, it’s fun. This court is amazing!” I flashed Mr. Delaney the dimple, but it had zero effect.
“Love-fifteen,” Lucas announced.
I returned it easily, then Art whacked the ball straight at my chest.
“Hey!” I barely dodged it, shooting a look at Frank that asked, Is this guy for real?
Frank shook his head. His look said I told you so!
I caught a glimpse of Madison. She was sitting on the bench outside the court, watching nervously. She gave me a hopeful little wave, and I sighed.
She wanted me to be nice to her dad. Rather, she wanted me to lose to him, even though his team was stacked and he was a cheat and a poor sport.
I waved back.
Then I let Art Delaney beat me.
“That was terrible, son, terrible!” Frank said after the match, clearly disgusted. “And here I heard you were a ringer. I thought my streak would finally be over.”
“Sorry, Frank.” I shrugged sheepishly. “I guess Art bested me in the end.”
“Sellout.” Frank harrumphed and stalked off.
Madison bounded up to me, her eyes sparkling. “My hero.”
“Aw, c’mon. Your father’s better than me.”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not, and you know it.” She peered past me to the court, where Art was picking apart Lucas’s performance. “My dad knows it, too.”
“Will he still be happy about winning?” I didn’t see how he could be. Then again, cheating had never been my thing. I didn’t see the point.
She nodded. “I’m ashamed to say it, but yes. Your partner, Frank? He’s never beaten my dad. They’ve known each other since we bought a house here. I don’t know why Frank keeps showing up.”
