Not So Snow White (14 page)

"I know you are. I'm just saying that sometimes you don't know what your weaknesses are until another player points them out to you. Usually in that humbling fashion I was mentioning earlier. It's not always about beating yourself, sometimes you just get flat beat."

"Tell me about it," Gaby muttered.

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. "First round, French Open?"

Gaby shot her a look that was less than appreciative. "Actually, I was thinking about Birmingham, against Venus."

"Na
h
, you beat yourself that game."

Gaby's eyes widened. "How do you know? You said you hadn't watched me play before."

"Aurora has strange and magical powers," Tess said with a wink. "Never underestimate a godmother." Especially one who could get personal game film from a certain manager-brother.

"Godmother," Gaby said, clearly unimpressed.

"Hey, be respectful," Tess not-so-gently chided. "And thankful." She grinned. "She brought you me, didn't she?"

Gaby had the decency to look a bit ashamed. "Yeah." She blew out a sigh. "I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch. It's just—" She stopped, looked away, clearly and quite suddenly uncomfortable.

If Tess had to guess, she'd say that Gaby wasn't used to revealing her weaknesses. On court, or off. Game wise, or personal. She had Max, just as, early on in her career, Tess had had her mother, which was great. But sometimes you needed someone else's perspective. On the rare occasion Tess had really clicked with a coach, she'd yearned for such a trusted relationship, but they'd generally been short-lived, at best. In hindsight, perhaps the demise of most of those relationships had been sabotaged by Tess herself.

"I know it's a little terrifying and a lot intimidating, what you're going to face in the coming weeks."

"I've been out there before,'' she said testily. "Grass is a good surface for me."

"As a junior. You and I both know how different this is going to be. You're just worried about how different. You got pushed out onto Chatrier in Paris. That was a hell of a lot to handle in your first slam."

"It wasn't the size of the crowd that threw me off."

Tess grinned. "Yeah, you'll feed off of that energy, even when it's going against you. I did."

Gaby's expression shifted slightly, became a bit more open.

"What got you in Paris
,"
Tess said, "was Serena's backhand. And the fact that she read your game like an open book, mostly because you let her. Not that there was much you could do
about it, it was all you could do
to stay in the rally with her.
She's got years of experience on you and figures things out that much faster because of it."

Gaby's gaze shuttered a bit then.

"
I'
m right and you know it. And yeah, it sucks not to be the best. So rather than pout, figure out what you have to do to fix it. You might have to lose to her several times before you grow enough and lea
rn
enough to figure out how to beat her." Tess hung her towel around her neck. "But you can beat her. And you could have beaten Venus."

Gaby looked down then, but didn't say anything.

"You didn't trust your net game."

"I don't have a net game."

"Yeah, you do. You just have to be all but dragged into it. If you'd come in on her short balls, and she gave you plenty, that match was yours. You were just hoping she'd implode like she usually does in tight situations. And she didn't. You can't wait for them to lose."

Gaby shot her a brief glance. "My net game is pretty shaky."

"Well, you weren't going to beat her from the baseline. You should have at least tried."

Gaby looked back at her feet, but finally nodded. "Maybe."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You know, I'll lay money on
the fact that you'll be able to beat every player in the top ten by the end of next year. You have the game for it. You just have to want it badly enough."

Gaby's head shot up. "Of course I want it badly enough! Why do you think I'm out here killing myself every day? For grins?"

Ah. There was the fire she wanted to see. "This is exactly
what you're supposed to do with all that frustration I've got you feeling today. Harness it. Direct it outward, into your game. Never say die while you're on the court, go for everything you can, even when it's shaky, even when it looks hopeless. Mostly when it's hopeless. It's a character builder. When you realize you're clearly outmatched, accept it, work as hard as you can to stay in the match, and do your damnedest to figure out exactly why you're getting beat. Punish your opponent where you can, and make notes of where you can't. Then, when it's over, you shake hands and thank her. B
ecause she just gave you a major
gift."

"Which is?"

"She just taught you how to beat her. If you really understood why you were losing, then you have charted a map of exactly where you need to improve your game. Everything you go through out there is fodder for doing it better the next time. When it's working, you know not to fool with it, just hone it. When it's not, then you know where to focus. When you get pissed, channel it. Don't beat yourself up. You're already getting beat."

Gaby shot her a look.

Tess smiled and shrugged. "Hey, it's fact. Faster you deal with reality, the more you're going to learn and the faster you'll improve. Don't sulk on the court. Sure, sulk like hell for a little while when you leave the court, it's human. But while you're out there, be a sponge. If you're getting beat and it's pissing you off, then focus on why. And look across the net at her and know that next time, she's going to have to work a lot harder to beat you."

Gaby didn't say anything for a few moments, then finally she shook her head and laughed a little.

"What did I say that was funny?"

"Nothing," Gaby said. "It's just
…
I've never met anyone who thinks like that. You're so
…
focused. Like a machine."

Now Tess laughed. "Hardly. The scenario I've given you is best possible case in a losing
situation. You've seen me play."
She leaned down and picked up Gaby's racket, handed it to her. "You know how many of these I went through."

Gaby's cheeks pinked a little as she took the racket back.

"All I'm saying is, that's what you should be aiming for. Don't squash your temper, focus it. Sometimes you'll be on top of it, sometimes it will get on top of you
.
" She tapped Gaby's racket. "And that's what happened at Birmingham two weeks ago."

"Yeah," Gaby said, then sighed. "You're right."

"Usually am," Tess said, intentionally cocky.

"It's no wonder Max is afraid of you," Gaby said with a laugh.

"He's not afraid of me. He's afraid of what I might say to you, how I might influence you."

"Brothers.
"
She rolled her eyes.

"He's just looking out for you." Tess couldn't believe she was defending the guy, but it was the truth. Even if she did think he needed to lighten up.

"I know." Gaby's smile turned knowing. "And you are influencing me. But I won't tell him if you won't."

Tess laughed. "I'm not even sure what all you're going to get out of this. We don't have that much time out here."

And in a blink, Gaby went from pouty, arrogant, super athlete to sincere, earnest teenager. She touched Tess's arm. "I know I've been a pain in the ass out here, but I want you to know that your spending time with me like this means everything to me. I will never forget it."

And it was because she absolutely meant it, that Tess was out here in the first place. There was just something about Gaby that pulled at Tess. Despite the obvious similarities or because of them, she wasn't entirely sure. "I'm glad I let Aurora talk me into this," she responded, giving complete honesty in return.

Gaby spontaneously hugged her. A surprised Tess took a
second, then awkwardly hugged her back. She'd never been much of a huggy-touchy person.

Gaby broke contact and stepped back, her eyes shining now with enthusiasm and a drive that Tess completely understood.

"You said something about my serve not being full strength, but maybe it's too close to the tournament to fool with something so major. You're right about me not being comfortable at net. I should have played more doubles, I guess. You had me mostly on net points today. Maybe we can work on
that?"

Just listening to Gaby's intensity and focus made Tess ache to get back on the court in a real game situation. She wanted to be back out there for herself, on tour, winning matches, winning titles. She knew it was over, but this was too much a taste, too much of a glimpse of her former life, too close. It was almost, in that moment, more than she could bear. She found herself looking away from all the hope and promise she saw in Gaby's shining eyes, a little ashamed that what she felt was jealousy. It was that very shame that forced her to look back at Gaby. Face what scares you most, that had always been her motto.

"We only have a few days. I'm not sure what I can do, but I'm willing to try."

Gaby's enthusiasm was undimmed. "Well, I was thinking about that. I know you're, like, super busy and all, and that I'm the luckiest person to
have even this week with you…
"

And just like that Tess found herself stifling the urge to smile. She was being expertly buttered up here. She should be wary, and she was, but she was also intrigued, despite her better judgment. "Go on."

"It was just, I mean, I know this is going to sound like an insult and it's not. I know you have more important things to do than help a nobody like me, but—"

Tess went still. Aurora had
seen this coming, had hoped for
it. Tess had been so sure that even if it did, she'd easily turn it aside. Only standing here right now, knowing damn well where Gaby was going with this, knowing damn well it was the last thing she should be contemplating, given how her emotions were all over the map at the moment, not to mention what was going on in her personal life
…
and yet her mouth wasn't opening, wasn't cutting Gaby off before she could make the offe
r
.

"I need a coach," Gaby rushed on. "You said it yourself. And I know Max would have a cow, but we could make him see it would be good for me. He'll want this for me if it's helping me."

Tess wasn't too sure about that.

"I don't know," she began, which was as truthful as she could be at the moment. The fact that she hadn't refused the offer outright should have concerned her. But she was already turning it over in her mind, thinking about what she could do with Gaby's game. Make it be all the things she knew it could be, pour all her frustration over not being able to play into—

"It would just be for the next couple of weeks, just to get me through this slam."

That brought Tess up short. She almost laughed at herself. For someone who had no interest in coaching as a career move, it was pretty insane how she'd immediately envisioned the two of them blazing a path through the season, wowing them at future majors, sweeping the slams.

"I know you were only here for your brother's wedding, but you're staying for the Championships, right?" Gaby
rushed on. "I mean, if you woul
d work with me even a little bit, it could help." She laughed, but it was forced. "And we both know I probably won't make it past the first week anyway."

And any idiot who knew something about anything could see how very badly she wanted to be wrong about that. Tess felt this little tug in her heart. Which, in the end, proved to be her final downfall.

Gaby, with her killer instincts on closing out a game, took Tess's arm and squeezed. "Please?" Her huge eyes all beseeching. And all that damn talent, just waiting to be molded. But just in case she wasn't completely convinced, and though she couldn't possibly know it was a deal maker, Gaby sealed it by adding the one thing Tess couldn't say no to. "We'd pay you, of course. Percentage of whatever I win. Plus expenses."

And just like that, Tess Hamilton was officially a professional tennis coach.

Cha
pter
11

"
Y
ou
did
what?
Without talking to me first?" Max raked his I hands through his hair. "I don't know why that should even surprise me. Except it totally proves my point. You've been around her for one week—one week!—and you're already sneaking around behind my back, doing things without getting my consent. Things you know damn well I wouldn't approve of!"

Gaby shot him the classic teenage "duh" look. "Which is exactly why I didn't ask permission. Besides, you were the one who put me in Glass Slipper to help me get a grip on handling real-world decisions and pressure." She folded her arms. "Well, I made a real-world decision."

"You made a decision while locked in fairy-tale Glass Slipper world. Not exactly the same thing."

"Aurora approves."

"I bet she does," he muttered under his breath. In fact, she was currently the very next thing on his to-do list.

Gaby slid off her bed and came to Max's side and leaned her
head on his shoulder. As tall as she was now, she had to crouch a little to do it. "Please don't be mad," she said, all wheedling voice and pouty puppy-dog face. "It's just for the duration of the tournament."

Max sighed, then purposefully ruffled her hair, which earned him a squeal of indignation.

"Max! I have an interview in fifteen minutes!" She immediately raced into her bathroom to begin damage repair.

"What happened to the girl who yanked her hair into a sloppy ponytail and had to be almost dragged into the bathroom to wash her face and hands before eating?"

"She grew up." Hair once again in place, Gaby leaned forward to inspect her skin for any imperfections that might have sprung up since the last time she checked. Which was maybe ten minutes ago.

Max felt a quick tightening in his chest. She was growing up. Way too damn fast. And he didn't know what the hell to do with her. Aside from wrapping her in bubble-pack and storing her away somewhere until she was thirty. Maybe forty.

Gaby paused in the doorway. "You should be happy. I actually found a coach I want to work with for a change. I'm not whining or complaining. God, Max, she's like the best of the best. The best don't share their secrets, they don't become coaches. But she's agreed to help me out. It's only my second slam ever. I'd be insane to turn her down."

"So you're saying this was all her idea?" Because Gaby was right. When the very best retired, they usually rested on their laurels. And very fat bank accounts. Occasionally they popped up as commentators or ambassadors for the sport in some manner. Mostly they surfaced in conjunction with charitable endeavors. Sure, Tess was young and active, and he doubted she was the type to rest on anything, much less her laurels.

Then again, Tess commentating? With her mouth, she would
most definitely put new color in the term "color commentator." Hell, it was well known that reporters used to pack her postmatch news conferences, knowing—win or lose—they were guaranteed a good sound bite or three.

Charity events, maybe. Her family was certainly philanthropic enough. Far easier to imagine was her partying around the globe. At best, she'd stamp her name on some hot line of sportswear, probably designed by her new sister-in-law. Something that didn't actually require her to do anything. But coaching? It was tough, often thankless work, with a grinding schedule. "Why in the hell would she want to do that?" He didn't even realize he'd spoken that last part out loud until Gaby responded.

"Gee, thanks, bro. Maybe because she sees something in me? I don't know. I just know that after only a couple days, she was already pointing out all kinds of things I could work on. Showing me where my strengths were, and where I was going to have problems on this surface, especially against Davina. I mean, she's played her multiple times. Do you have any idea how amazing this is? Not only was Tess a number-one player, she's a recent number one. She knows everyone out there; she can give me insights into their games I couldn't hope to get from anyone else."

Max frowned. "You said it was just for this tournament."

"It—it is."

"Gaby," he said proddingly.

She ducked her chin for a moment, but it immediately came back up, with an added defiant tilt to it that he was getting weary of seeing. "She agreed to two weeks, yes, but who knows? I mean, if I do well, maybe I can convince her—"

"Wait a minute. I thought you said she asked you. What did you say to her, Gabs?" This made a lot more sense. He should have known someone like Tess Hamilton would never have just
offered up her services like that. Of course, he couldn't imagine how Gaby had talked her into it, either Unless Aurora had a hand in this. His head began to throb. He felt distinctly out-maneuvered. Up against a united front of three determined women, he didn't even know why he bothered to try and thwart their plans.

Then he looked at his kid sister, who, despite the styled hair and modestly applied makeup, was still just that: a kid. Sure, Aurora's heart was in the right place. And sure, Gaby was excited at the chance to work with her hero. He didn't pretend to know Tess's motives and didn't really care. What mattered was that, regardless of their joint enthusiasm for this venture of theirs, he was the only one who truly had Gaby's best interests at heart. Not just for the next two weeks, but for the big picture, as well. And Gaby getting in thick with Tess Hamilton at only her second slam just couldn't be a good idea.

"If you somehow talked her into doing this, then that's all the more reason to end this charade now."

"It's not a charade! She agreed to help me, Max. And I can use the help. On the court and off."

"That's what I'm worried about. The interviews are already lining up. That's pressure enough on you."

"I can handle it," Gaby insisted stubbornly.

"You know something, I think you can, too," he said, earning a surprised look from his sister. "But if word gets out that Tess Hamilton is in any way involved with you, the media attention on you will explode."

It occurred to him right then that he might have hit on Tess's angle in all this. Was she so de
sperate to remain in the white-
hot glare of attention that she'd willingly align herself with the new up-and-comer as a way to guarantee herself continued press coverage? It wasn't that far-fetched, really.

"You want me to learn to handle that anyway."

"That's the last thing you need right now. Your focus should be on the tournament. Tess might mean
well, but—"

"But you don't believe that, do you?" Gaby lifted her hands, then let them fall to her side. "Why are you so convinced she's the bad guy?"

"It's her reputation, Gaby. It exists. And it's not an altogether good one. Yes, she's earned a place in tennis history with her string of titles, and I'm not doubting she could be a great asset as a coach, but—"

"Okay, then, let her help me. It's only two weeks, Max. Or as long as I stay in the tournament. She's here in London, I'm here in London. I might never get this chance to work with her again. We both know she's too big to probably want to get into coaching full-time, so what's the danger?" She cut him off before he could explain, once again, exactly why Tess was a dangerous woman. "If it's just the media frenzy you're afraid of, I'm willing to risk it. Aurora even got Sir Robin's permission to use his court to practice on if we need to stay out of the limelight. No one has to know."

"You're crazy if you think you can keep this quiet. And from the international press, of all things."

She crossed the room until she stood right in front of him. "All I know is that I think I could get further these next two weeks with her than without her. And if I don't do well, she'll explain to me why I didn't and help me figure out what I have to do next time." Gaby took hold of his arms and squeezed tightly. "I want that opportunity, Max, It's the chance of a lifetime." Her expression was both beseeching and intensely focused. "Please don't ruin this for me. Please."

These were the moments he hated the most. The moments where all he wanted to do was make her happy and give her whatever her heart desired. She was a good kid who worked way too damn hard and earned the right to ask for a few things now
and then. And yet it was the same moment where he had to decide if what she wanted and what she most needed were the same thing. "I—I don't know, Gabs," he said, tugging her close for a quick hug. "Let me think about it, okay?" He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, careful not to muss hair or makeup.

She sighed as he let her go and he could see she was gearing up for round two, but before she could continue to plead her case, a knock came at the door. "Mr. Fontaine?" a voice called from the hallway. "They're ready for y
ou both. Room three-
eleven."

Gaby sailed past him and opened the door before he could stop her. "Thank you. We're on our way." She walked out without waiting for Max.

Swearing under his breath, he scooted out of the room behind her and closed the door. They waited with the journalist's assistant for the elevator. As was often the case in London, the lift was darkly paneled and small bordering on minuscule. The three of them squeezed in and the assistant pushed the button for them. "Enjoying your stay?" he asked brightly, apparently clueless to the tension simmering between his two liftmates.

"We always do," Max said politely, managing a tight smile.

The buzzer went off and the door slid open. Max and Gaby exited quickly, with Gaby carefully lifting her hair off her neck for a moment, before letting it fall b
ack along her collar. Air-
conditioning was not a popular commodity in the U.K. and the air in the lift was stifling even after such a short ride.

"This way," the assistant said, directing them down a narrow, pale-carpeted hallway. "Last one on the left."

"Thank you." Max put his hand on Gaby's arm before she could stride off ahead of him. "You want a quick run through the talking points? We could ask for a few moments in the hall." He knew she didn't need a review, she'd done this kind of thing often enough. But she was also tense and unhappy with him at
the moment and he mostly wanted to give her a chance to smooth out a bit before sitting down with the journalist.

"I'm fine. I could do this in my sleep."

"I know, just—" But she was already tapping on the door and opening it without waiting.

"Hello!" came a jovial female voice. "You must be Miss Fontaine."

"Hi," Gaby said, extending her hand as Max and the assistant came in behind her. "A pleasure to meet you."

She was all smiles and youthful exuberance now. Max just shook his head a little. A pro at sixteen in more ways than one. He had to admit that she did handle herself well in these kinds of situations. Her meltdowns on court had thus far never translated to off-court behavior, which was largely what saved her. Most interviews were upbeat and positive in intent. She was inevitably asked about her occasional on-court histrionics— much like Monica Seles had always been asked about the loud grunting noise she made whenever she hit the ball—but they had long since developed a disarming response to that, which, delivered so genuinely from such a polite young lady, never failed to diffuse whatever negative angle the interviewer might have been gunning for.

"This must be your brother, Max." The journalist was British, probably mid-fifties, somewhat attractive, and all smiles as she extended her hand to him. "Hello, I'm Fionula
Hust. Excited for your sister?
"

The interview hadn't technically begun yet, but Max and Gaby had both realized long ago that the interview started the moment you walked into the room. And in keeping with that, he smiled broadly. "A pleasure to meet you. Thank you for asking for the interview." He could have gone into politics, he sounded so sincere, when in fact, if they never did another one
of these, he could die a happy man. "And yes, of course I'm excited. We're both happy to be here."

"Well," she said, all smiles, "why don't we have a seat over here and we can begin. Can I get you anything?" Before either of them could answer, she looked past Max to her assistant and said, "Simon, did you order tea? Has it arrived?"

Max and Gaby exchanged looks, both knowing it would be rude to turn it down, but also knowing the token gesture was expected. "That's not necessary," Max began.

"Please," Fionula admonished, "it's the least I can do as I know I'm taking up time in your busy schedule. Simon?"

"Right away." Simon disappeared back into the hallway as Fionula led Gaby to a pair of seats that had been arranged by the window. The view was better than their own, affording a look at the small park that ran parallel to the hotel across the street. "Shall we?"

As Gaby and Fionula settled in, Max automatically took the observer's seat on the couch and made himself comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could on the rock-hard settee.

Fionula set up her tape recorder and got her pad and pen ready. "The photographer should be here shortly. I was hoping we could get a few shots, something to run with the story?" She glanced at Max, who was prepared for this, too, and simply nodded. "Excellent." All smiles, she turned back to Gaby. "So, excited to be at your first Wimbledon as a professional player?"