39 Nico
39
My Lady of Mercy – The Last Dinner Party
I watched Scottie chaotically tapping her fingers on her thighs as she pushed her leg out to warm-up for her next match, her body primed with anticipation. The player’s area was filled with other competitors and their teams, all getting prepared for their next game. Jon had been pulled away by an emergency call, so I’d stepped in to help her prepare. Watching her stretch was still an effort not to get inappropriate in a public place (again), the memory of her long slender legs wrapped around my waist this morning still fresh in my mind.
‘Calm down, you’re making me nervous,’ I said with a smile as she moved into a new position.
‘It’s the quarterfinals, Nico,’ she gritted out, pushing her body forward over her legs, sounding stressed and distracted. ‘I think I’m allowed to be nervous.’ She barely looked at me, instead her focus remained on a singular spot as she pulled her muscles. Her white crop top stretched up, revealing inches of soft skin underneath, testing my resolve.
‘We could go somewhere private, and I could find a way to distract you,’ I suggested, stepping close to whisper, my eyes catching on the edge of her skirt. Now that I knew how her thighs felt, soft perfect skin hiding powerful muscle, it was even harder to keep my hands to myself.
‘Then we run the risk of becoming too distracted.’ I looked back up at her face, noticing that I’d managed to capture her precious attention. Her lips were pressed into a knowing smile, an eyebrow raised.
‘I’ll make sure to do all the work. We don’t want you tired out right before you go on,’ I continued. She had stopped moving, her body pulling even closer to mine, which did nothing to settle the ache inside of me. It was getting harder to pretend there wasn’t anything between us anymore, impossible even.
‘Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kotas.’ Her smile was addictive, and for a moment, I imagined leaning across and kissing her, really kissing her. Screw it all and show everyone how much she was really mine. Pin her to the wall and give her the distraction she needed – the one I was desperate for.
Her gaze fluttered behind me, catching on someone else, and the smile faltered, her nerves reappearing as her hand raised in a hesitant wave. I turned, my gaze catching on the dark hair of her opponent. Inés was smiling, looking all too friendly, considering what was at stake. The semifinal was only three sets away.
‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ Scottie smiled, before heading over toward her competitor. Both of them pulled into a friendly hug before they began to chat casually. Scottie’s hand landed on her hip, as a sly, competitive smile curled onto her lips. I knew it well, all too familiar with the way she liked to tease before a competition. Inés looked more than comfortable, however, an eyebrow raised as Scottie laughed at something she’d said.
‘They seem friendly,’ another voice broke my concentration. I turned, finding Kit, Scottie’s mom, beside me. Her blonde hair was pulled out of her face, and it struck me how strikingly similar they looked. Identical dainty nose and round face. Same deep blue eyes.
I laughed. ‘Just wait till they get out on the court.’
‘It’s incredible how quickly they get ruthless.’ She tossed her head back, almost recoiling at the memory. I’d met her mom in the family box during one of Scottie’s games. She’d sat, her leg jigging nervously as she watched her daughter sprint across the grass, clapped and yelled a little too loudly for Wimbledon standards when she’d won.
I’d never sat with somebody’s parents while they watched before, but I imagined my own weren’t any different. They’d normally come to show support, the last thing I needed was the rest of the Kotas family descending on Scottie. We’d struck an agreement that if I made it to the final, they could come then, no matter how reluctantly my mom agreed. I didn’t need any more pressure.
‘I’m just glad I get to play with her instead of against her.’
Kit looked over at me, before she said with a knowing wink, ‘In more ways than one, I hear.’
I blinked, my mind panicking slightly at the insulation. ‘I—’ The silence stretched on and on, only jumbled sounds leaving my mouth. ‘Em …’
Her face cracked open with glee, her hand patting my shoulder in what was supposed to be a calming motion. ‘Relax. I just wanted a shot at being the embarrassing parent for once.’
I coughed, trying to clear away the choke from my throat, but the words still came out strangled. ‘Did it live up to your expectations?’
‘It certainly did.’
Thankfully, Scottie interrupted the conversation before I could make myself seem like any more of a fool. ‘What are you guys talking about?’
‘Just the match,’ Her mom replied, still looking very happy with herself. ‘Anyway, I should head up. I don’t want to be late.’
Scottie nodded before pulling her mom into a hug. ‘I’ll see you out there.’
Kit turned to me for a moment. ‘Nico, are you joining me in the box?’
I realized that knowing my luck, I’d probably be sitting next to her. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’ I smiled politely, hoping that would be enough time for me to be able to look her mom in the eye again.
She looked back at Scottie, waving as she turned away and crying a final, ‘Good luck!’
As soon as she was out of earshot, Scottie practically spun around to face me, a wild curiosity across her features. ‘What was she saying?’
‘It was nothing.’
‘Did she embarrass you?’
This time, I didn’t hold back. ‘I nearly choked on my tongue.’
She smiled, looking a little pleased with her mom. ‘Sounds like her.’
Looking at them together, you’d never have guessed that Kit had only been back in Scottie’s life for less than a year, the closeness they had. They spoke the same language. I was glad she had somebody outside of tennis to keep her grounded somehow, somebody who had nothing to gain from her win.
‘How’s Inés?’ I asked.
Scottie grinned back at me, the expression twisted with something devious. ‘Nervous.’
My eyes narrowed. ‘Now that you mention it, you don’t seem so skittish anymore.’ Her earlier jitter was gone, her hands relaxed by her side, her face calm and collected. It was as if she’d returned a new person.
She looked carefully around her, stepping closer to me and keeping her voice low. ‘I … I think I can win this, Nico. Like, a real chance.’
‘Yeah?’ I beamed back at her, renewed by her newly found confidence.
‘Inés is great. She always catches me off balance with her slice. But she’s still recovering. Her matches have only gone two sets. I know how she plays, and I think if I can get her to play long points, maybe even get her into a rally and push her back behind the baseline, it might work. Keep it so she can’t execute that slice. I could tire her out and win.’
I thought over her words. It was good. She was right about Inés. Get her to that final set and she had a solid chance of winning. Pride welled up inside of me.
‘Sounds like you’ve got your game plan.’
For the first time today, she truly looked hopeful. ‘If I keep my head, don’t play too hard and lose my own steam, I think I can do it.’
I couldn’t help but reach out, my fingers meeting her chin to pull her gaze to mine. It felt like I would never get sick of the way her face changed when she looked at me, the softness there.
‘Scottie Sinclar in the semifinals.’ I smiled, loving the way the words sounded. ‘And then the finals.’
She let out a single laugh. ‘Who would’ve thought I’d have any chance?’
But I didn’t let go of her gaze, keeping my eyes on hers as I pressed, ‘I would’ve.’
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting to smother what surely would’ve been a wide, confident smile from breaking out. An announcement called out, telling everyone that the players were expected out on court shortly. Scottie shifted in place, this time with impatience to get started. Her hands ran down her ELITE crop top, smoothing out any wrinkles.
‘I can do this,’ she said to herself on an inhale, taking a deep calming breath. I watched as her chest rose, feeling her confidence, her fight. She had this.
My girl had this.
‘I always believed that you could.’ My hand reached out to her, interlacing our fingers and squeezing. It was more than we’d ever done openly, but I couldn’t help the overwhelming need to touch her, my own anticipation at watching her play beginning to rise. A goodbye and good luck was on the edge of my tongue.
‘Scottie, can I pull you in for a quick photo?’ Sarah, our photographer from the training camp, appeared from a crowd, camera in hand. She had been around us during our time here, usually taking photos during matches or after, always making sure we were still wearing the ELITE brand.
Scottie frowned slightly, her hand dropping from mine as her eyebrows pressed together. ‘Not right now. I’m just about to go out.’
Sarah turned to look at the clock, calculating that we still had some time before she had to go out. ‘Three seconds, that’s all,’ she pushed.
Scottie’s face twisted with indecision, understandably not happy that Sarah had decided now of all the moments to request a photo. But I knew she hated arguing because of our contract with ELITE.
‘Fine,’ she relented, and Sarah turned to lead her away. I picked up her racket bag, keeping by her side as Sarah pushed through the other players and coaches getting ready for their matches. There was no way I was leaving her alone with Sarah.
Scottie’s gaze constantly flickered back over her shoulder as Sarah led us across the room, as if to keep an eye on the time and not be late to her game. The crowd finally broke, and my stomach dropped as I realized who was waiting for us.
If she knew what she was doing, Sarah’s voice gave nothing away as she instructed casually. ‘Okay, if I can get you over here beside your dad, we can get this done.’
Scottie’s attention turned back, and she stopped dead in her tracks beside me. My hand formed a fist on instinct, anger riling up inside of me at the sight of her father, dressed casually in a button up and shorts, standing beside the Wimbledon logo, looking photo op ready.
‘Why is he here?’ My voice was deep and low as I looked at Sarah, confusion clear in her face. She didn’t even bother to answer my question as she shook her head.
‘Just a quick photo. That’s all we need.’
‘Good to see you, Scottie.’ He looked as slimy as ever, a snakish grin on his face as he peered across at her. I wanted to take her away. Get her away from him.
‘What do you want?’ Scottie’s voice was full of frustration, her eyes fixed on Matteo. She turned to Sarah. ‘What is this? Why is he here?’
‘ELITE asked for a photo of the two of you,’ Sarah said half-heartedly, her attention on her camera settings. Clearly, she either had no idea what she was doing, or she didn’t care. Was this revenge for the beach?
Matteo’s shoulders relaxed, his demeanour softening from smug to somewhat fatherly. ‘Come on. Take the photo. For old times’ sake,’ he pressed, raising a hand and waving to her only. To anyone looking onto the scene, they’d see a legend reuniting with his daughter. They wouldn’t know how dangerous this all was.
My hand found hers, pulling at her. ‘Scottie, you don’t have to do this,’ I urged, desperate to make this stop somehow. I knew whatever this was, it wasn’t good. The fact he was at Wimbledon was enough to set me on edge, but here, in this room, taking this photo? And where was Jon to stop it all?
I could see her fear and confusion in her expression as she silently looked back at the clock, the pressure folding in on her, the time ticking down until she was due on the court.
‘Nico, let’s get you in there, too,’ Sarah insisted, her tone beginning to sound snipped. She moved, taking up a place in front of Matteo, camera raised and primed, as she ushered us over.
I shook my head, insistent on not cooperating. Fuck ELITE. Fuck whatever this was. ‘No, we aren’t doing this.’
‘Really? Now you’re making a big scene,’ Matteo said so plainly, he almost sounded like a reasonable person. I had to bite down my rage, keeping the monster contained. A scene would give him what he wanted. He pushed an eyebrow up, his palms out wide. ‘People do talk, you know?’
There was a lull, like the world had gone on pause. Scottie took a moment, looking around us. I could see it too, the eyes of people looking our way, their attention pulled by our arguing. We were drawing too much attention, and it was beginning to make her feel nervous. He was using everything to his advantage to twist her into this. I turned to her, readying myself to get her out of here, but instead, I watched her shoulders pull back, her spine straightening.
‘Let’s get it over with,’ she muttered, each word sounding painful. She took a few short steps over, standing on the opposite side of the logo. I followed, nudging her over further to the right so I was between her and Matteo, as if my body was a wall to protect her. I just wanted her as far from him as possible.
‘Smile,’ Matteo reminded, my stomach twisting just as Sarah took a few shots. As soon as I registered the flash of the camera, the click of the photo being taken, my hand was around Scottie’s, pulling her away.
His voice rang through the crowd as he shouted after us, ‘Good luck.’
My anger was beating at me like a drum, a loud droning noise that threatened to erupt. But I knew I had to keep a lid on it, keep myself in check. Not here. Not now. She still had a match to win. I didn’t stop until we were back at the door, and there was barely another moment before her name was being called, the game almost ready to start.
‘Are you okay?’ She didn’t even look at me, her eyes pinned instead to the door. She nodded silently, but I could see it was gone – the confidence, the fight. She had been cut down just when she’d found it. Maybe that was the plan all along. Get in her head, under her skin. Take this from her again. Dread drained the blood from my face at the thought.
‘Scottie.’ Her name was a plea, but it worked, and her eyes met mine. I did my best to keep my anxiety under wraps, keep myself composed when all I felt like was storming back over and making that man pay for what he had done.
‘I’m fine,’ she snipped, pushing her hair back out, dragging her hands down her face. I could see her resolve flickering like embers of a dying fire. I took a deep breath in, trying to temper my panic. She could not go out there like this.
‘You can do this,’ I pressed, placing my hands on her shoulders to root her back in the moment. ‘Remember your game plan.’ Her hands met mine on her shoulders, palms pressing against the top of mine as if she needed the connection.
‘I know,’ she said, and I finally caught the spark, anger igniting and replacing the defeat in her eyes. ‘I’ve got this.’ Her name was called again, pressing the urgency with which she was expected on court, but her eyes stayed on mine.
‘Scottie Sinclair in the finals. You belong there. Fight for it,’ I pressed as her hands clenched around mine. She let go of a deep, shaky breath, the exhale calming her, bringing her back. I could see it now. She was here. She was back. She was mine.
Her eyes closed for a moment, before she took a step away, my hands releasing her shoulders as they confidently pushed back, chest out, and grabbed her bag from where it had been sitting waiting. ‘I’m ready. I can do this.’
And I believed her. I really did.
Sinclair vs Costa
Quarterfinals – Court 1
There were rare moments of beauty in life. Most of them pass you by before you even realize what you’ve seen. But watching Scottie Sinclair glide across Wimbledon’s centre court during the quarterfinals against Inés Costa was one where you immediately understood you were witnessing something special.
Inés took the first set, but Scottie the second, exploiting her weakness just as she had planned. Now in the third and final set, Inés was slowing, struggling to keep the strength in her returns. The match was still a fight, the umpire challenging to work with.
Throughout the match, he’d made it hard on Scottie, calling various infractions. Some were fair, like her serves called out, but others had left Scottie frustrated. He had handed out a few time violations for her taking too long during breaks, sometimes a foot fault when it seemed like her footing was nowhere near the baseline. Once even a net touch when it was hard to even see if it had happened.
She’d used her challenges where she felt confident the call was unfair, the hawk-eye camera helping to determine if the ball was actually out. But despite that, it was clear her annoyance was rising at him.
My anxiety watching her was sky-high, unable to keep myself from fidgeting, rubbing my clammy palms up and down the nylon material of my shorts.
When first I’d gotten to the box to find Jon already there, all the anger I had pent up exploded, demanding to know why he wasn’t with us. Jon, with a much cooler head than mine, waited until I had told him what had happened. A dark look had furrowed onto his face when I mentioned the photo, and he quickly disappeared again. When he returned, he’d informed me that Sarah had been dismissed and sent back to ELITE. Apparently, she’d claimed not to know the drama between Scottie and her dad, but I didn’t buy the excuse.
It was Scottie’s serve on game point, already up two points to Inés. I was mesmerized as her long body stretched up, and by the strength in her arms when her racket collided with the ball and she expertly sent it spinning over the net. My eyes were still trained on every tiny motion of her body as she moved from the service line. Inés sprung from her position, racket swung out wide to return, the ball just passing her as she missed when the umpire broke the hush over the crowd.
‘Fault!’
Despite the distance, I could see Scottie’s jaw locked in frustration, and behind her, even Inés looked to the umpire, her brows pressed together in confusion. Scottie challenged the call, her patience waning as she paced back and forth while the system processed the video from the camera. Inés, in the background, looked conflicted, gesturing slightly to the umpire as if she couldn’t make up her mind about speaking up.
The crowd around us began to clap as the video came into view, louder and louder as we followed the computer-generated trajectory of the shot. My hands curled into fists, agitation biting at me as the result came through.
OUT
My heart dipped at the result, some of the crowd jeering in delight. I tried to ignore them, immediately returning to Scottie, watching as she took a moment to pull herself together. Then, when she was ready, she pushed her shoulders back, shaking her head as if to shrug the mood away – a move I’ve watched her do a hundred times when my shit talking during practice was getting on her nerves. She’d shake me off and ruin me with a big serve.
And that’s exactly what she’d done next, the ball tracking system reporting her serve at an insane 114 mph as the ball slammed onto the opposite side of the court. Inés struggled to return it before finding her stride, and both began their back and forth.
Game point – Scottie. And they carried on to the next play.
Scottie waited for Inés to serve, clearly a little impatient for her to get on with it but letting her opponent take her time. It was known Inés was extremely superstitious; she had to have the right count in her head before she would begin.
Finally, she served, Scottie being quick to return the ball. But ultimately, Inés was able to catch her off-guard, rushing the net and volleying the ball out of Scottie’s reach.
15–0
Scottie returned her next serve with ease.
15–all
Inés’s next serve was called out, and on her second serve she hit an ace, the ball landing in the corner of the service box.
30–15.
The game continued, Scottie chasing down every ball, every hit of her game perfection. The way she was able to read Inés’s next play, react in a split second, and glide across the court without missing a beat. Scottie was perfection on court, her body a tool, her mind a weapon. I wasn’t surprised when we were onto the next game, her serve, with the previous game tucked safely into her pocket. She was closing in on the set now.
I watched Scottie as she counted in her head, preparing to serve. She tossed the spare balls to the side until she finally chose the one she wanted, then the umpire called again.
‘Time violation, Sinclair.’
At first, her expression was confused, looking around the court when her eyes found the serve clock countdown ticking down to zero. Her arms fell to her side, her head shaking. I knew she was trying to keep a leash on her anger, pushing it down. And as she set herself up for her second serve, returning to that focus on her movement, a hush fell across the court as we all watched, breath held, waiting for the sound of her racket whipping through the air.
‘Foot fault, Sinclair. Point awarded to Costa,’ the umpire announced, and that was the moment her patience snapped. She dropped her ball, practically throwing it to the side, her racket pointing over at the umpire.
‘Are you trying to distract me?’ she shouted over at the umpire, taking a few steps closer to him. At first, he ignored her, waiting for her to serve, but she shouted again. ‘Well?’
Finally, he turned, waving his hand. It was impossible to hear what he said back, the crowd around me impatient, boos and whistles breaking the usual respectful hush of the court.
From the start, it was easy to see how the umpire had been slowly distracting her from her match, making all sorts of calls against Scottie, but none against her opponent. And now, one set down and the score heavily leaning in Inés’s favour, Scottie had finally had enough.
‘Keep it brief?’ Her voice echoed around the court, growing louder as she got increasingly frustrated, she took a few steps closer to the chair. ‘I lost that point because of your calls. You are intentionally being distracting.’
One look to my left and I found Jon’s grim expression transfixed on Scottie, his voice low as he murmured softly. ‘You gotta calm down, kid. Don’t let him get under your skin.’
I couldn’t hear what the umpire responded, but Scottie’s shoulders slumped as she listened to his response. Turning away from him, she threw her hands out in exasperation, left hand still grasping her racket. The umpire spoke again, but his response was once again lost in the noise of the crowd.
She faced him again, feet planted as she pointed her free hand down. ‘No, we’re doing it now. My last serve was in, and you called it out! Not to mention the fact that she’s been going over time, but you’ve not said a damn thing about it.’
Jon shook his head, his hands out as he tried to catch Scottie’s attention while lowering his hands as if to indicate for her to calm down, but she either didn’t see him or ignored his advice.
‘Challenge? I’ve already wasted challenges and time on your other mistakes!’ Both Jon and I stood up from our seats, watching helplessly as Scottie continued to express loudly her anger and frustration. Jon muttered under his breath, hands dragging over his face as he tried to keep his own actions under control.
A deep pit opened up in my stomach. Then, he caught my eye. Straight ahead, at the other side of the court sitting dead centre in the crowd. Matteo.
I immediately thought of Scottie, wondering if she knew he was also in the crowd, but when she shouted again at the umpire, I was almost comforted by the fact that she was too distracted to notice him.
‘How am I supposed to play when I’m up against my opponent and this asshole? This is ridiculous.’ Her voice cut through to me, and I was desperate to go down, intervene somehow, even if it meant calming her, but I knew better.
‘Third offence, verbal abuse. Game point awarded to Costa,’ the umpire issued, his voice booming through the microphone. Immediately, Scottie relaunched into an argument with him, wildly fighting the accusations.
It all went downhill as I watched her get increasingly frustrated, all emotions boiling over with the pressure and intensity of the game. Eventually, she gave up fighting the umpire, issuing a final challenge that he would never be on court for another of her matches again, and went back to the baseline.
But it was too late; her concentration was fried and her game in tatters. She played with too much fury, hitting the ball too hard, missing returns she would’ve easily made.
If the umpire had been doing this on purpose, then it would be mission accomplished because it took up all my strength to watch her miss that final point, sealing Inés’s win, locking Scottie out of the women’s single competition at Wimbledon for another year.