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“If we play together from now on, we can build a great partnership. Are you okay with that, Taylor?”
I was somewhat taken aback by Bianca’s kind, almost friendly attitude, wondering when the kicker would come.
“And maybe we’ll qualify for State, as well?” she added, her enthusiasm seeming to be real.
“That would be awesome,” Mrs. Stephens said, as if it was a done deal. Did wonders never cease?
On the drive back to school, the van dawdled at times, allowing me more time to ponder what I’d do when we got there. Dad wanted me to go to dinner, as did Bianca and the rest of the team, but I was still trying to concoct an excuse or find a way to go missing in action. I seriously did not want to join them, but Dad’s plea rang loudly in my ears,‘You’re here for the team.’
I had to play my part as a member of the Covington Maroons.
I dallied when we got back to school, everybody getting into their car or their parent’s car, saying, “See you soon.” I, however, repacked my tennis bag, pretending I was looking for something, making myself one of the last to leave.
When I got to the Country Club, I parked in the far corner, making it a long walk to the restaurant. And once inside, I detoured to the restroom. Couldn’t hurt to check my hair and use the nice smelling hand lotion.
And then, because my courage was still faltering, I decided to check the sports boutique. I would need a new grip soon and I’d check to see how much they cost.
As I made my way out, I spotted Phoenix walking ahead. My immediate thought was another diversion—I could spend time chatting to him and lessen my time in the restaurant, maybe miss dinner altogether. I didn’t need to quicken my pace to reach him; he was slowly maneuvering his way with his walking frame.
“Hi Phoenix,” I said as I caught him up.
“Hey, Taylor.” He seemed happy to see me, but his smile soon vanished. “Hey, I heard about your result against Hastings.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, not my best. I lost my singles.”
“Oh no, I mean the team did great,” he said. I guess I still didn’t grasp that tennis was a team sport. “Hastings are always tough.”
I wondered if Max had filled him in already.
“Yeah,” I said, “I made too many mistakes. So, what are you doing here?”
“Having dinner with my mom,” Phoenix said, “but I wanted to look around the store. You?”
“Yeah, I wanted to look at the grips.”
“Hey, you shouldn’t feel bad about losing your singles,” he said. “Rayna Malone is a good player.”
“Thanks,” I said, pushing open the door to the shop and holding it so Phoenix could get through.
“And I hear you played with Bianca. How’d that go?”
Wow, Max hadn’t wasted any time in updating Phoenix. “Good,” I reluctantly confessed.
“Hi Phoenix,” Gwyneth looked up from the counter and smiled. She must’ve been like a whirlwind, driving back from Hastings High, booking the table and now back to check on the shop. A young man was behind the counter.
“Hi Mrs. O’Day,” Phoenix said.
“You’ll be back on the tennis court before you know it,” Gwyneth said with a big smile, which abated as she turned to me and said, “Hi Taylor.”
But I was reeling from the fact that Phoenix had called her Mrs. O’Day, meaning Gwyneth was Addison’s mother, Addison who was the bane of my existence, starting with the skirt fiasco, the sneers, the belittling. “Oh, did you get the invoice? Addi sent them all out the other day. You should have received an email.”
My whole body shuddered at the distinct change in her tone, an unmistakable accusation that I owed her money for the headband.
“My Dad already paid it,” I said, my voice both defensive and aggressive. It hit me that this was how Addison had found out my address—through my membership details which were in the shop’s computer.
And that meant it hadn’t been Max at all.
“Ah, yes, of course. It has been paid.” Gwyneth was suddenly sickly sweet and flashing me a smile as she checked her screen. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”
