The Singles Game
Page 64
‘To catch all my mistakes,’ laughed Sandrine, the reporter, in what sounded like flawless English.
Charlie greeted everyone and tried not to feel nervous: she still wasn’t accustomed to interviews much beyond the usual post-match Q&A about point play and mental focus. But Elle didn’t really care about her strategy going into the French Open. Not with the current headlines about Zeke Leighton and Marco Vallejo.
‘Darling, sit where you are comfortable,’ Sandrine said, waving her elegant manicure toward the suite’s living room. ‘We will talk and then take the photos. Oui?’
Charlie nodded and settled into one of the tufted armchairs. She forced herself to smile when really all she wanted was to check into her room, take a hot shower, and order an early dinner. The next few days of training were going to be more intense than they usually were at the start of a Grand Slam, and she needed to start focusing on her routine.
There was a knock at the door and a small commotion as a waiter wheeled in a tea service. With a great flourish he placed plates of intricate pastries and delicate teacups and saucers on the table between Charlie and Sandrine, and when he poured the tea from a heavy silver pot, he quietly assured Charlie that it was ‘sans caffeine.’ When Charlie thanked him, he bowed and murmured, ‘Mademoiselle.’
‘Charlotte, darling,’ Sandrine said, managing to make Charlie’s name sound chicly French. ‘Tell me how it feels to be a favorite for the Roland-Garros this year?’ She pronounced ‘favorite’ like ‘fah-vo-reet.’
She hesitated and out of the corner of her eye she saw Todd twitch like some character in a horror movie. ‘It feels fantastic. I’ve worked a long time for this opportunity, and I’m feeling really good about my chances.’
‘Do you think you can win here in Paree?’
Charlie wanted to talk about the confidence she felt playing on clay, how it was rare for an American to be so comfortable on the surface, but she’d grown up on Birchwood’s Har-Tru courts and had learned how to use the slide and the slower pace to her advantage. She may have even mentioned her new fitness regimen and how working with Todd was giving her an edge, but another glance in his direction revealed more twitching, so instead she said, ‘Yes. I know I can win. Now I just have to get out there and do it.’
You won’t be winning any awards for being articulate, that’s for sure, Charlie thought, but she was pleased to see that Todd’s twitching had been replaced by a satisfied smirk.
‘What do you think has changed? Less than one year ago you were injured in the first round at Wimbledon – and some even claim that was a … how do you say it? A questionable injury. How do you explain your return to the top?’ Sandrine pursed her perfect pink lips in a way that made Charlie want to pinch them. Not nicely.
‘Questionable injury?’ Charlie turned to the translator, thinking there must have been some misunderstanding, but he merely nodded his confirmation. ‘I tore my Achilles’ tendon and broke my left wrist. The foot injury required surgery and months of rehab. I’m not sure how that qualifies as a “questionable injury,” if that’s what you’re suggesting …’
Sandrine waved her hand as though these were the silliest of details. ‘Yes, you are right, of course.’ Wide, sharky smile. ‘Let’s talk about more fun things, yes? Romance! I know all our readers would love to hear about your trysts with various beautiful men, oui? Tell me, is it Zeke or Marco? Or both?’ Sandrine’s laugh rang out in the suddenly silent room.
‘Ms Bisset, as you undoubtedly remember, we agreed before the interview that Charlotte’s personal life beyond the details of her travel and training schedule would not be discussed.’ Jake’s voice was firm, but Charlie could detect concern.
Sandrine laughed again but her gaze remained fixed on Charlie. ‘Charlotte, darling, surely you don’t mind clarifying a bit for us, do you? Women the world over – myself included, of course – would love to share the bed of just one of these men. And to think you have had them both. Well, we cannot just ignore it, can we?’
Jake jumped to his feet. ‘Ms Bisset, I think that’s quite enough.’
‘Well, it is true, no?’ She had the self-satisfied look of a cat who’d just devoured a helpless baby bird.
‘Either we’ll have to redirect the conversation back to Charlotte’s upcoming French Open appearance or that will—’
‘Are you asking me which one is better in bed?’ Charlie innocently batted her eyelashes. ‘Or just who I prefer in general? I’d like to better understand your question.’
‘Charlie!’ The way Jake barked her name instantly reminded her of her mother: the surprise hurt, the emphasis on the second syllable when most people stressed the first. In that instant, she was transported back in time twenty years. Perhaps it reminded her father as well. He was so appalled by the interview’s turn that he strode out the suite’s door without a word to anyone.
Sandrine returned Charlie’s steady gaze, and Charlie saw a newfound respect in the woman’s expression. The reporter reached over to choose a biscotto from the plate, but when she placed it next to her teacup without taking a single bite, Charlie knew she was just buying time.
‘Well, either topic is most interesting, darling. Please share whatever it is you’re thinking.’
‘Charlotte …’ The warning came from Todd now. Charlie glanced toward him and was surprised to see Dan sitting to his right, staring at his feet. When had he sneaked in?
‘Whatever it is I’m thinking … hmm, let’s see. I’m thinking that I have never felt better prepared for a tournament in my entire life. As you know, I came up playing primarily on clay courts, so I’m super-comfortable with the surface. Thanks to my incredible team’ – she stopped here and waved in Todd and Dan’s general direction – ‘I’m fitter than ever and confident in my new approach. My injuries are healed entirely. I’ve never felt better.’
If Sandrine noticed that Charlie had redirected the interview, she didn’t let on. ‘What do you say to the folks out there who point out that you’ve never won a Grand Slam? Actually … wait, I think I have it right here.’ Sandrine rifled through her notes. ‘Natalya Ivanov was quoted last week as saying, “Charlotte has shown great improvement over the last few months. Of course she has good strokes and an overall strong game. But I think everyone knows you’re really just an amateur until you win a Slam.” What do you respond to that?’
Charlie greeted everyone and tried not to feel nervous: she still wasn’t accustomed to interviews much beyond the usual post-match Q&A about point play and mental focus. But Elle didn’t really care about her strategy going into the French Open. Not with the current headlines about Zeke Leighton and Marco Vallejo.
‘Darling, sit where you are comfortable,’ Sandrine said, waving her elegant manicure toward the suite’s living room. ‘We will talk and then take the photos. Oui?’
Charlie nodded and settled into one of the tufted armchairs. She forced herself to smile when really all she wanted was to check into her room, take a hot shower, and order an early dinner. The next few days of training were going to be more intense than they usually were at the start of a Grand Slam, and she needed to start focusing on her routine.
There was a knock at the door and a small commotion as a waiter wheeled in a tea service. With a great flourish he placed plates of intricate pastries and delicate teacups and saucers on the table between Charlie and Sandrine, and when he poured the tea from a heavy silver pot, he quietly assured Charlie that it was ‘sans caffeine.’ When Charlie thanked him, he bowed and murmured, ‘Mademoiselle.’
‘Charlotte, darling,’ Sandrine said, managing to make Charlie’s name sound chicly French. ‘Tell me how it feels to be a favorite for the Roland-Garros this year?’ She pronounced ‘favorite’ like ‘fah-vo-reet.’
She hesitated and out of the corner of her eye she saw Todd twitch like some character in a horror movie. ‘It feels fantastic. I’ve worked a long time for this opportunity, and I’m feeling really good about my chances.’
‘Do you think you can win here in Paree?’
Charlie wanted to talk about the confidence she felt playing on clay, how it was rare for an American to be so comfortable on the surface, but she’d grown up on Birchwood’s Har-Tru courts and had learned how to use the slide and the slower pace to her advantage. She may have even mentioned her new fitness regimen and how working with Todd was giving her an edge, but another glance in his direction revealed more twitching, so instead she said, ‘Yes. I know I can win. Now I just have to get out there and do it.’
You won’t be winning any awards for being articulate, that’s for sure, Charlie thought, but she was pleased to see that Todd’s twitching had been replaced by a satisfied smirk.
‘What do you think has changed? Less than one year ago you were injured in the first round at Wimbledon – and some even claim that was a … how do you say it? A questionable injury. How do you explain your return to the top?’ Sandrine pursed her perfect pink lips in a way that made Charlie want to pinch them. Not nicely.
‘Questionable injury?’ Charlie turned to the translator, thinking there must have been some misunderstanding, but he merely nodded his confirmation. ‘I tore my Achilles’ tendon and broke my left wrist. The foot injury required surgery and months of rehab. I’m not sure how that qualifies as a “questionable injury,” if that’s what you’re suggesting …’
Sandrine waved her hand as though these were the silliest of details. ‘Yes, you are right, of course.’ Wide, sharky smile. ‘Let’s talk about more fun things, yes? Romance! I know all our readers would love to hear about your trysts with various beautiful men, oui? Tell me, is it Zeke or Marco? Or both?’ Sandrine’s laugh rang out in the suddenly silent room.
‘Ms Bisset, as you undoubtedly remember, we agreed before the interview that Charlotte’s personal life beyond the details of her travel and training schedule would not be discussed.’ Jake’s voice was firm, but Charlie could detect concern.
Sandrine laughed again but her gaze remained fixed on Charlie. ‘Charlotte, darling, surely you don’t mind clarifying a bit for us, do you? Women the world over – myself included, of course – would love to share the bed of just one of these men. And to think you have had them both. Well, we cannot just ignore it, can we?’
Jake jumped to his feet. ‘Ms Bisset, I think that’s quite enough.’
‘Well, it is true, no?’ She had the self-satisfied look of a cat who’d just devoured a helpless baby bird.
‘Either we’ll have to redirect the conversation back to Charlotte’s upcoming French Open appearance or that will—’
‘Are you asking me which one is better in bed?’ Charlie innocently batted her eyelashes. ‘Or just who I prefer in general? I’d like to better understand your question.’
‘Charlie!’ The way Jake barked her name instantly reminded her of her mother: the surprise hurt, the emphasis on the second syllable when most people stressed the first. In that instant, she was transported back in time twenty years. Perhaps it reminded her father as well. He was so appalled by the interview’s turn that he strode out the suite’s door without a word to anyone.
Sandrine returned Charlie’s steady gaze, and Charlie saw a newfound respect in the woman’s expression. The reporter reached over to choose a biscotto from the plate, but when she placed it next to her teacup without taking a single bite, Charlie knew she was just buying time.
‘Well, either topic is most interesting, darling. Please share whatever it is you’re thinking.’
‘Charlotte …’ The warning came from Todd now. Charlie glanced toward him and was surprised to see Dan sitting to his right, staring at his feet. When had he sneaked in?
‘Whatever it is I’m thinking … hmm, let’s see. I’m thinking that I have never felt better prepared for a tournament in my entire life. As you know, I came up playing primarily on clay courts, so I’m super-comfortable with the surface. Thanks to my incredible team’ – she stopped here and waved in Todd and Dan’s general direction – ‘I’m fitter than ever and confident in my new approach. My injuries are healed entirely. I’ve never felt better.’
If Sandrine noticed that Charlie had redirected the interview, she didn’t let on. ‘What do you say to the folks out there who point out that you’ve never won a Grand Slam? Actually … wait, I think I have it right here.’ Sandrine rifled through her notes. ‘Natalya Ivanov was quoted last week as saying, “Charlotte has shown great improvement over the last few months. Of course she has good strokes and an overall strong game. But I think everyone knows you’re really just an amateur until you win a Slam.” What do you respond to that?’
