| |
Emma
Not only was Helen my favorite tennis partner, she’d also become a good friend. I didn’t care that she was old enough to be my mom—and maybe that’s why I liked her so much—but she listened to my problems now that I felt close enough to tell her them all. We’d been tennis partners about a year and raked in some decent prize money along the way. She’d entered us into every tennis tournament she could think of and to date, we’d won a couple of thousand dollars in prize money which she always insisted I keep. The arrangement made me uncomfortable, but I’d given up fighting with her long ago.
“How was the Big Apple?” she asked.
“I loved it. There’s always so much to do. And the food is fantastic.”
“Must be nice to eat whatever you want,” Helen lamented. “I’ve never been to New York. I better add it to be my bucket list.”
“You won’t be disappointed.”
“Did Marc try to get a hold of you?” she asked after we’d put in an hour-long practice. We were preparing for our last tournament of the year and like always, Helen was determined to win.
“Marc? The Taylor Tennis Club owner?”
“Yes. I was paying my dues the other day and he was poking around about you. I think he was more than impressed with the summer clinics you put on and wondered if you wanted to do some other projects. You should check in with him on your way out.”
My interest was piqued. “I’ll talk to him. I could use extra money.”
I ventured to the front desk and found a young man there. I’d never seen him before. He was tapping away on his phone and didn’t notice or care that I was waiting. When he finally glanced up, he gingerly set down his phone and stared at me like he had a million other things to do.
“Is Marc around?”
“Nope.”
He had to be a new hire, but he looked familiar. Where did I know him from? And he looked good, the type of guy who knew he could charm the pants off any girl and his attitude reflected it. “Is he expected back soon?”
“Not sure.”
My frustration was building. “Can I leave a message for him?”
“Sure,” he said, picking up his phone and ignoring me.
“Are you going to take a message?”
“Oh.” He searched around the desk and produced a pen and a torn piece of paper belonging to an old Wal-Mart receipt. He slid them towards me and waited for me to finish. He took the note and read it. He looked at me and frowned.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Not really.” His greyish green eyes scanned my face. “You’re the one Marc was talking about. He thinks we can save the club.”
“What’s going on with the club?” I asked with a small amount of alarm. The club being in trouble was all news to me.
The guy grimaced. “Not sure I should say too much. Marc brought me in because I owe him, and I don’t want to start any gossip.”
“Who are you anyway?”
“Ben Morrow.”
He said his name like I should have known it. My brain went into overdrive trying to place him—then it hit me, taking me back to my competitive tennis days. I was probably fourteen or fifteen and every girl with a pulse was in love with Ben Morrow. He was a few years older and had a full scholarship to a tennis academy in Florida. He’d even played junior tennis at the US Open and made it to the semis of a decent-sized tournament once. Since then he’d faded away, or was I the one who’d faded away? Either way, the mighty had fallen if he was back in Minnesota and working at the Taylor Tennis Club.
“And how do you think you can save this club?” I asked, intentionally pretending not to remember him.
“I don’t know. Marc has some kind of plan that involves both of us. I know why he wants me; not sure what your role is.”
I sensed a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Well, make sure he gets the message. See you later.”
I stewed all the way home and wanted to rant to Zach, but the only thing I found was a note he’d left explaining that he was out playing hockey with the guys.
#
MARC CALLED THE FOLLOWING morning while I was in psych class. I called him on my way home from school.
“Emma, nice to hear from you. I understand you met Ben and had a little chat. I was hoping you could come down and meet with me next time you’re down at the club. I have a venture I’m hoping you and Ben can help me with.”
“Sounds interesting. Can you give me any details?”
“I’d love to but I haven’t flushed them out yet.”
“I have a practice session planned with Helen tomorrow. I could come by around 6 pm?”
“Perfect. I’ll make sure Ben is there too.”
I got home to find Zach and Genie at the dining room table with papers and envelopes everywhere. I set down my bag and wandered over.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking over Zach’s college applications,” Genie said. “I’m not sure why. Zach could have written them in crayon and still have his pick of schools.”
“Not true,” Zach said.
“Dad will make sure you get into whichever school he wants you in.”
“I only want Columbia and Dad’s already made it clear that isn’t his first choice, so all those As I worked for last year better pay off.”
Genie rolled her eyes. “He’s going to get accepted to all of them.”
“I thought you already finalized these,” I said, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder.
“I wanted to look them over one last time. And have a new pair of eyes look them over too.”
Seeing the applications gave me a sinking feeling. He’d be gone come next fall, that was a guarantee. It would be Columbia. The question was whether I had officially decided to go with him.
“When are you sending them off?” I asked.
“Tomorrow. Genie was taking a final look. Do you mind looking them over too? I know you did already, but what if I missed something? I’d hate to send them with typos.”
Genie rolled her eyes again. “How many people have looked these over? A million? You’re getting ridiculous.”
“I can’t risk a mistake.”
“I’m meeting Andrea so I’m out of here,” Genie said. “Have fun looking over this boring shit.”
I took her seat and glanced over the applications. I didn’t have much to add. I’d read them already. Zach then pulled out a pile of more brochures.
“I got these,” he said, handing them over to me. “This is information on all the culinary schools in and around all the law schools I’m applying to. I also got info on colleges in the area too.”
I stared at the pile. This was getting serious. “Yeah, I should look them over.”
“I’m not pressuring you or anything, but I thought you should see them. I know we talked about all your future plans.”
“I hate talking about this.”
“I know,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand. He squeezed it and I tried to smile. “But we can’t keep avoiding it.”
“I know, but I’m scared. I’m finally starting to make a life for myself here and now I’m going to leave and start over. I’m not good at starting over.”
“You could think of it as an adventure,” he said with a sly smile. “Remember all those delis in New York?”
“Yes. And I did like it there.”
“You’ll make tons of friends. Imagine living in New York. The endless possibilities. And if you don’t want to go to culinary school, you can finish your degree. Besides, you only see your dad a weekend or two a month now. It would be the same in New York. We can fly back all the time.”
“You make it sound like I have unlimited funds. Do you know something I don’t?”
“Yeah, my dad.”
“Your family already pays for enough stuff.”
He fell silent and his big brown cocoa-colored eyes stared at me tenderly. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes,” I said, leaning over and kissing him. “I have time to figure out my next step, right? The best place to finish up my degree.”
“You have at least a few months. None of these schools need applications right away,” he said, giddiness setting in.
“I’ll read them all over,” I said, scooping them up into a neat pile. “An interesting thing happened today.”
“What was that?” he asked, watching me get up and head for the kitchen.
“Marc, from my tennis club, called me. He asked me to help out with some new ideas he has at the club. He hired this tool, Ben, and he wants the two of us to help him out. Helen’s mentioned in the past that Marc is trying to get enrolment up. I’m not sure how I can help, and if my brief conversation with Ben Morrow is any indication, that idiot will be a total waste of time.”
“You mentioned this Ben guy’s name twice. Who is he?”
I rolled my eyes thinking of my brief conversation with him. “He’s a has-been,” I said, opening the fridge and rifling through its contents. I pulled out the chicken breasts I’d made from the night before as well as some mixed greens, feta cheese, cucumbers and onions. I decided on a Greek chicken salad and some cheesy garlic bread on the side. “Ben Morrow was supposed to be a superstar. He moved to Florida, got a big shot coach, turned pro and fell flat on his face. Now he’s back in Minneapolis, a place I remember him hating back in his heyday. When he left, he said he was never coming back.”
“He’s cute,” Zach said from the dining room table.
I put down the container of mixed greens and rejoined him. He had his laptop in front of him. “Excuse me?”
Zach looked up from the screen. “I just googled him. Did you have a crush on him back then?” he asked mischievously.
“No,” I said, my cheeks flushing a little.
“You are so full of shit and it’s cute.”
I returned to the kitchen and chopped up the chicken. “I did not like him. All the other girls were too busy falling all over themselves every time he walked into the room. I couldn’t care less about him.”
“Sure. I can’t believe you kiss me with that lying mouth.”
His needling wasn’t going to work. “Keep it up and you’ll be eating and sleeping alone tonight.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Marc didn’t mention what this new task will be?”
“No. I’m guessing he wants us to teach classes? Something like that? Ben would have more appeal than me. He was pretty good before he turned pro. He made it to the semifinals in the US Open juniors. He isn’t a slouch.”
I tossed together the salad ingredients and started on the dressing. I warmed coconut and flax oil, apple cider vinegar, salt, pepper, garlic and some spices. Before dressing it, I brought some plates and cutlery to Zach to put out. He’d gathered and piled most of his papers and thankfully put his laptop away.
“He couldn’t hack the pros?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t keep up with his career. Ben was good, but to be an elite tennis player, you have to be great. I suppose he wasn’t great.”
I dressed the salad and we sat down to eat. Zach chowed down on the cheesy garlic bread first.
“He’s going to hit on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that.”
“Trust me, he’s going to. Make sure you let him know you’ve got this super-hot boyfriend.”
“I’m not sure that’s the first thing I’m going to say to him. That would be weird.”
“I’ll come by and tell him myself,” Zach said with a wink. He was joking, at least I thought he was. “I bet Ben Morrow’s role is to get into the pants of just about every woman in the club. He’s there to increase membership.”
“Yeah, probably. But what is my role?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “You need to ask? You’re going to do the same thing. The only mystery is how Marc’s going to achieve all this.”
I didn’t know what Marc’s ideas were, but I was looking forward to finding out.