She kissed me, soft and gentle and maybe just a hint of salt from her tears, but I felt the tightness in my chest ease for the first time in weeks. I didn’t care that we were both in sweaty clothes, that her hair was damp when I ran my fingers through it. I kissed her and kissed her and damn she kissed me back until I was backed against that wall again, this time with the promise of much more than a conversation.
“But one more thing,” Toni said, pulling herself away with obvious regret. “I just, I just have to know. For sure.”
“Anything,” I replied. “Ask me.”
“I just… Elin, did you let me win out there today?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Did I what?”
There was a strange ringing sound in my ears. Had she really just said that to me? It wasn’t bad enough she’d clawed her way to victory in the third set at my expense, but now she was checking I hadn’t thrown the match? Just to, what, get back in her pants?
“I need to know,” she said, having the decency to look down at her feet in something like shame. “That my win today was legit. That I earned it.”
“Did you score more points than me?” She nodded. “Did you win two sets?” Another nod. “Did I do anything other than play you full strength? Full speed?” She shook her head that time.
“Elin—”
“Then you have your answer. How can you even ask me that?”
“Well, last time I played you, I barely made it off the court alive.” Toni moved across to sit on the chair by the door.
“You’ve improved,” I replied, softening as I saw the lack of belief in her own potential. “Working with Mira has been good for you.”
“I’ve dreamed about this day, you know?” She looked like she might cry again. “Only now I don’t want it to affect any chance I might have for…us. Can we do this and still compete? I know you’re thinking about stepping down, but—”
“I’m not gone yet,” I reminded her. “And I should hide your racquets for ever accusing me of going easy on you. On anyone. If and when I retire, it won’t be because I stopped trying to win. Now will you hurry up and get to the part where you get to be smug?”
“Because I finally beat the best player in the world?” Toni replied.
I flipped her off, but I did it with a really big smile. “Exactly. Now you’ve got Jodie next round, which should mean you’re in the final on Saturday. So start enjoying that. How did you want to celebrate?”
She dragged a look up and down my body that made me feel like my clothes had just been torn off. Before she could put what that look suggested into words, the sound of Mira’s voice interrupted us.
“Antonia?”
“I have to go check in. See you in the showers in a minute?”
I grinned at her like a fool, because that’s exactly what I was when it came to all this. “Don’t take too long. I might start without you once the water hits me.”
She left with a spring in her step. Good.
As much as I wanted Toni to myself the next day, when she woke up in my bed all sleep-tousled and out of sorts, I sent her back to her own room to get ready for her semi-final. I would watch from the stands, even though it was still unusual behaviour for me to hang around after I’d been put out. Let them talk; I was officially past caring.
What I did have to care about was the threat of suspension hanging over my head. I needed two slams to equal the record and three to break it. With the French Open being one of the remaining three, I had to play in it to have any hope of wrapping up my goal in one season. Maybe I’d still play on for at least one more year, but the sooner I got the numbers, the sooner it would feel like fully my choice again.
I met with my co-conspirators in the players’ lounge, my mother and Parisa rounding out our numbers.
“I have more data,” Parisa said, brandishing some printouts. “The shift definitely started four years ago.”
We looked around for a moment until Celeste did the maths. “The season I won my first slam.”
Keiko gave a low whistle. “Shit, you know people are racist and then they still surprise you. I remember the crappy coverage you got at the time too.”
“They didn’t exactly love you winning in Paris last time either. But with me it’s always this implication that I’m cheating just by being built this way. Who knew all this time they were actually testing for it?”
“I’m sorry,” my mother said to them both. “If I’d had any idea this was going on…”
“They’ve kept it pretty quiet,” Celeste said. “I suspect what the tour wants is to maximise the slender blondes who spend half the year modelling and don’t hit the ball too hard. In case it puts any men off, that sort of thing.”
“Well, this skinny blonde hits as hard as any of you,” Parisa said, in a compliment I wasn’t sure I wanted. “But yeah, I suspect you’re right, Celeste. I’ve heard some borderline shady things from the marketing people now and then, but that’s just the risk of doing business sometimes—too many of them speak before they think.”
“Just so you all know, they invited me to a disciplinary meeting which I already refused.” I had to get it out while I could still summon the words to talk about it. “And I’ve been told there’ll be an announcement Saturday that I’m being fined and suspended for 30 days.”
That started the uproar. Parisa’s string of curse words was like shouted poetry, and my mother practically turned furniture over, on
