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‘Do I have to arrange for someone to sign an NDA?’ Victor asks as he packs away the cards. ‘I don’t care what you’re doing, just as long as you’re being safe.’
‘What?No.’
Victor pins me with his intense blue-grey gaze as he reshuffles the cards. ‘I understand why you might not want to tell your father the truth, whatever it is, but you can tell me. If there’s any chance of . . .fallout,’ he uses the words carefully, ‘then I should know. And she should sign an NDA.’
She. I’m sure it’s just a slip of the tongue but it’s a stark reminder of everything I have on the line.
‘There’s no girl,’ I tell him, and hope my tone is firm enough that he’ll back off. ‘I just need a bit of space. I lost track of time; it won’t happen again.’
Victor looks me up and down and, finally, nods once. ‘All right.’
The security guard opens the gate to the training court, keeping control of the spectators as I slip past him. Lukas is on the other side of the court, signing photographs and tennis balls and caps. Dropping my training bag at my station, I suck down a mouthful of water and slip my racquet from its cover.
‘Hey, you dirty little liar,’ Lukas taunts as he jogs over.
‘Thanks for covering for me last night,’ I say quietly. ‘I appreciate it.’
Lukas fishes a couple of balls from his bag and stuffs them into his pants pocket. ‘I get it. Shoot me a text if you want to hit the beach on our off days. Freyja and I hired a couple of boards, rented a car and went out surfing. The beaches here are incredible.’
I pull on my headband. ‘I’ll let you know.’ I nod at the court. ‘The usual?’
We have a set program when we practise together during tournaments. Lukas and I have trained together since we met at Indian Wells when we were ten. Lukas, already a strong player in the juniors’ circuit, was a ballboy in the 2008 Federer versus Fish match. Papa and I had come over to watch the tournament and work with the tennis academies in the States for the summer, and Lukas and his twin, Freyja, had moved from Stockholm to Florida permanently to train.
Some people might think it’s silly to train with your rival, but hey, Serena trained with Venus and it worked out well for both of them.
Lukas nods. ‘I’ll serve.’
As I make my way to the baseline, I see Freyja and Lukas’s coach slip into the court, taking a seat near our bags. Freyja’s close behind, dressed in her court gear with her blonde hair in an intricate braid. She must have just played.
I wonder how she feels about Phoebe’s absence. Happy, no doubt, and probably a little guilty for being so happy. She’s yet to win a slam and now there’s one less competitor on the circuit.
Lukas and I train for the better part of half an hour, and he throws in a trick shot here and there. Lukas wouldn’t be Lukas if he didn’t put on a show for the crowd, and the large audience that’s made its way to the practice court is very appreciative.
‘Your second serve is still flat,’ Freyja tells Lukas as we make our way back to our bags. Lukas’s coach nods in agreement.
‘Hey, hey, don’t trash-talk me in front of my opponent,’ Lukas whines.
Freyja turns to me. ‘Heard about your match against Derbin. That sucks.’
‘It is not fun to win like that,’ I reply. ‘How did you do today?’
‘I won,’ she chirps. Freyja’s always been a woman of few words. Succinct, just like her tennis. She plays a hard, precise game and she doesn’t joke around. It’s the complete opposite of Lukas’s playing style, but when they pair up, somehow their doubles partnership works.
‘I miss Phoebe,’ she continues. ‘It would have been nice to beat her.’
Knowing Freyja, that’s a warm compliment. Pulling off my headband, I shove it into my dirty laundry pouch and zip the cover on my racquet.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ Lukas asks. ‘You coming to watch me?’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Did you watch me?’
‘Yes.’
‘On the TV,’ Freyja elaborates.
Watching Lukas is the only thing my father would allow me to do without his supervision, I consider. And at least this time, it wouldn’t be a lie. ‘I’ll be there. Hope you lose.’ I shoot him a grin.
‘I’ll make sure they save you a seat in my corporate box.’ Lukas smiles back as he throws his bag over his shoulder. ‘How does it feel to walk through these grounds and seemyface everywhere? Iownthis park, Gabriel.’
