It’s as if Icely knew tennis would always surface to the top of Alice’s life. The next day a tour schedule is proposed.
How convenient . . . she’s opening in Madison Square Garden that very night.
All Alice has to do is sign on the dotted line, her signature earning Teach and her a whopping twenty-five thousand dollars. A Buick Roadmaster convertible sedan costs just shy of three grand. They could buy a slew of them. Not too shabby. Or with rent in Manhattan being fifty bucks a month, they could move from a hotel to an apartment and stay in New York much longer than anticipated.
A smile breaks on Alice’s face as she enters the arena that evening and grows even larger at seeing an old friend, now her tour mate, Mary Hardwick.
“Mary!” she calls. “Glad to see you safely on this side of the pond.”
They meet at the net, and knowing the cameras are on them, the women shake hands, prolonging the greeting while the press does what they’ve come here to do.
“Ah,” Mary says in her thick British accent, her face dropping. “The guilt at being here and not back home.” But then she must remember the cameras, allowing a smile to find her face once more. “I’ve been helping with relief efforts at the very least. And now a portion of our tour proceeds are going toward war charities. This’ll be good fun, Alice.”
“When is tennis ever not fun? Especially with a sell-out crowd? And for a good cause?”
Alice gives Mary’s hand a final squeeze and backpedals toward her baseline, tilting her head back to capture the full array of people who’ve come to see them play. She raises an arm, waving, and a roar fills the arena.
What fun, indeed.
There was a time Alice ached for the applause and to hear her name. Now it happens every time she steps foot onto a court. A true entertainer. She’s won it all. Sometimes it makes Alice wonder what could be on the other side of tennis. If there’s someone on the other side of tennis. What would that look like? A husband? A family? Coaching? Designing? Singing?
Honestly, it’s all a bit overwhelming to ponder, and she settles onto the baseline. Once she and Mary get playing, Alice is quick to realize she’s a bit rusty. She still found time to get on the court over the past few months, but the fitness program ate up much of her day. Now her timing is off. She’s catching the ball late. She’s not able to get into any type of groove. Still, it’s a bit startling when Mary takes the first game. Alice stares at the ground, a canvas sheet that’s been laid down over the basketball court for them to play on, and tries to regroup in her head. In the many matches the women have played opposite each other over the years, Alice has never lost. It’s a good reminder. Mary’s strokes are firm, yes. Her defense is steadfast, yes. The problem is that Alice’s attacks aren’t landing the way she wants them to.
Mary also takes the next three games.
Teach once told Alice that if someone is going to beat her, she’d better make them actually beat her. Alice gets her feet moving. She gets to the net more quickly. She better anticipates Mary’s shots. Alice plans her own. Her timing improves and, thank goodness, she begins winning games. Eventually the sets and the match.
Alice is sure the effort shows in the many beads on her forehead.
They do the whole meet-at-the-net-and-shake-hands thing again. “I’m coming for you next time, Alice,” Mary says in a playful tone before walking off.
Icely takes Mary’s spot. He talks under his breath, for only Alice to hear. “I love Mary’s competitive spirit and I love how you made the game interesting.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We know you kept the game close to keep the game exciting. You’re Teach’s protégé, after all. Good business sense.”
Alice bristles. “I did no such thing.”
Mary is eighth in the world. Alice may have played badly, but Mary is not a picnic.
“Uh-huh,” he says, like they’re in on the same secret.
Alice has the urge to throw her racquet. Not something she’s done in a while, nor something she’d do in front of a full arena. But you can bet your sweet patoot she’s not going to have that exchange with Icely ever again.
She wins in Chicago.
She wins in Minneapolis.
She wins in Cincinnati.
All three convincingly, playing like the number one player Alice is supposed to be.
Alice and Mary, along with their male counterparts, Don Budge and Bill Tilden, continue to play arenas all over the country into the spring months. The newspapers proclaim how they’re a box-office success, selling out upward of twelve thousand seats at every match. It’s lucrative for Teach, too, who gives lectures and teaches clinics at each stop.
Before one match, when Alice is entering the changing room with an undeniable smile, Teach throws a towel in her direction. “Told you this would be good for us.”
“It could be better for me,” Mary says, intercepting the towel. She laughs. “I could be winning. Or I could be making what Don’s making.”
“Aren’t we all making the same?” Alice asks, glancing at Teach.
Teach says, “You all should be.”
Mary raises a brow. “You are if you’re making seventy-five.”
“Hundred?” Teach asks.
Though Alice doesn’t think that’s realistic. Not even for a second. No way he’d be offered that much less than what Teach got for her.
Mary snorts, confirming Alice’s suspicion. “Not seventy-five hundred. Don got paid seventy-five thousand for this tour. Plus a percentage of the gate.”
What? Alice doesn’t say the word aloud, but her mouth moves as if she did. This time she does more than glance at Teach, who negotiated her contract for twenty-five thousand.
“That can’t be right,” Teach says.
“Well, I’m not just going to stand here speculating,” Alice says. “I’m going to find out.”
She storms onto the traveling court, head on a swivel for Icely. He’s talking to some man. Alice doesn’t care who he is. She taps Icely firmly on the shoulder.
“Our star!” Icely says after he turns. “You’ll have a mile-long line for autographs after this one. You’re on in an hour. You ready?”
“Funny you should call me your star, with the disparity in what you’re paying me and what you’re paying Don.”
Alice has faced prejudice before. Just the thought of what Myrick put her through releases a growl deep in Alice’s throat, a reaction Icely must interpret is for him.
Perfect.
He makes a strangled noise as he uncomfortably eyes the man beside him. To the man: “If you’ll just give us a moment.” To Alice, as he distances them from the man: “What on earth are you going on about, Alice? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
She puts a hand on her hip. “I know what you’re paying Don. Seventy-five versus twenty-five, if I’m not mistaken.”
Icely swallows hard. Guilty. Zero denial.
Alice charges on. “I don’t care if he’s a man and I’m a woman. Last time I checked, we’re both human beings, deserving of the same opportunities. Both drawing in fans and selling out these arenas.” She flaps her hand in the direction of the seats, some already filling.
“Alice, you have to understand—”
“I’m not playing,” she says. Icely may be the president of the world’s largest sporting goods company, but frankly, this is bullshit. “I won’t play unless you pay us the same. I fill as many seats as Don, if not more.”
Icely’s nostrils are flaring. “You will play. Or we’ll sue you.”
“Go ahead!” Alice flaps a hand again for good measure. “Change my contract in the next hour or I’m not stepping foot back onto this court or the fifty, sixty, however many other courts you have planned in this tour. You’ll have some explaining to do to that mile-long line of fans looking for my autograph.”
Alice is seeing red when she storms back into the changing room. “How could you?” she snaps at Teach.
“How could I what?”
“It’s true. You accepted a third of what Don’s making.”
Teach’s eyes close and stay closed. It’s clear she didn’t know the disparity before today. Alice doesn’t care. “It’s your job to know these things, to negotiate, to make sure what I get paid is fair, yet all you did was make both of us,” Alice says, gesturing between them, “look like fools.”
Alice sits on the bench and begins to remove her tennis shoes.
“What are you doing?” Teach asks.
“I’m not playing. It’s what I told Icely too. Not until he understands he can’t pay me less on account of me having breasts.”
“Good for you,” Mary says.
“Aren’t you mad?” Alice asks her.
She sighs. “Darling, my husband’s the vice president under Icely. I’ve been taken care of.”
Alice throws up a hand, stopping on the way down to point a finger at Teach. “Fool!”
Teach huffs. “I’ll get you that new contract.”
And she does. For the same amount as Don. The way it should’ve been from the beginning.