Chapter Eighteen #2
Moving a step closer, he said, “You keep working and you’re going to go above and beyond.
Look. You still have the body skills, the kill instinct you had as a teenager.
But now you’re playing with the brain of experience.
You use a thinking player’s tactics. You plan out your moves and wait for the right shot. ”
She was surprised to feel tears spring into her eyes. It was the highest of compliments, because it was something she loved about herself. She was a planner by nature, and to be recognized for it tugged at her heart.
“Who knows?” she tossed off casually, covering her emotions. “If I work at it, eventually I’ll probably smoke your ass for breakfast.”
He gave her a cheeky smirk. “Like one of those flavored vapes?”
“Ew. You took that too far.” Dammit. Why was she playfully bantering with him when she was trying to maintain a cordial distance?
“Let’s play,” he suggested. “Just for fun. A game. You can play on half the court, and I’ll take full court.
” She parted her lips to protest that she didn’t need any undue advantages but then remembered that he was the pro and this was the first week she’d played a net sport in fifteen years, so it might be okay if she had a teeny advantage.
“You’re on.”
And she served, capitalizing on the fact that his playing space was double the width of hers.
She kept him running from one side to the other and back to front, lobbing and dinking.
Pleased, she noted that the tactic had a brilliant effect, and with two points to his five, she felt she was holding her own.
“Go, Lulu!” Ariana shouted from the sidelines, her camera recording their game.
Tyler wiggled his paddle to attract Ariana’s attention. “What about ‘Go, Tyler’?”
“I have to root for the underdog,” she explained. “And you’re already a superstar.”
When Lulu finally got the serve back, she kept Tyler at the baseline, and after a series of deep slices, she dropped the ball short over the net.
Tyler had not expected her to mix it up.
He raced forward, but her hit dropped at such an elegant angle that there was no reaching it.
It bounced in and bobbled off the court.
From her spot on the sidelines, Gwendy gave a low whistle.
“Nice shot, Gardner,” Tyler said.
Gwendy commented, “Yeah! Don’t write her off, Demming. She might just come back and beat your ass. I’ve been watching her play all week. She’s got something you don’t have.”
“Ovaries?” he quipped.
“Strategy.”
“I have strategy!” Tyler balked.
“And patience.”
“I have pa—” he started. “Okay. Maybe not. But I am a pro,” he said, pointing his paddle at her and putting on his serious professional athlete face. “Ariana,” he called. “You might want to go live. The Rocket is about to turn on the blasters.”
And Lulu felt a real boost when Tyler amped up his play.
In reaction, her kinetic memory kicked in, and Lulu rose to the occasion.
With their next rally, they kept the ball in play for at least ten hits, and the next volley after that went longer.
Even though Lulu lost both points, she felt invigorated by the level of play.
Pickleballers from the other courts gathered and cheered for both players.
With each thoughtful, well-planned shot, Lulu climbed closer to Tyler’s score.
“Make some noise!” Ariana encouraged the spectators. “We’re live streaming!”
And at that, a competitive thrill coursed through Lulu, a rush of adrenaline she hadn’t experienced in years.
She felt downright superhuman. And when she taunted Tyler with a cat-and-mouse game of two hits to the right and then one to the left, he kept up with the pattern, until her unexpected lob sailed over his head.
He raced back too late. It hit the paint at the back of the baseline.
“It’s good!” shouted a pickler from the sidelines. Tyler, too, slid his hand, palm down, through the air, gesturing “in.”
Beaming with pride, Lulu lifted both of her arms to the sky. The score was tied.
“Great lob,” Tyler commented.
“Well,” she hedged, “you are playing full court to my half court.”
“Don’t let up now, Lu,” Tyler said. “Your serve, your advantage.”
And her next powerful serve hopped so close to the baseline that Tyler spent a millisecond too long trying to decide if it was going out. By the time he swung, he’d missed his setup window and his return flew into the net.
Again, the San Ramón local players cheered. They waved and mugged for Ariana’s camera. Gwendy and Alejandro started up a chant of “Lu-lu! Lu-lu! Lu-lu!”
Ariana narrated, “Will Tyler Demming take down his protégée, or will Lulu Gardner make The Rocket eject his boosters?”
Lulu lined up her stance and called the score. She served. Tyler swung. And whiffed the ball.
“Ace!” Gwendy called and turned to the camera. “She aced him!”
Tyler gave the spectators a shrug, and Lulu narrowed her eyes. She was good. But she wasn’t that good. Did Tyler give the point away?
Lulu shifted to the left-hand-side service box, scooped low, and tried a lob serve that arced right before bouncing at the baseline.
This one, Tyler returned deep. They rallied, short stepping toward the kitchen.
But in the back of her brain, Lulu felt the sensation of being watched.
Her eyes left the ball, and she looked up.
There was Tyler, not watching the ball at all. He was watching her.
In that millisecond, her focus waned, and she tapped the ball with too much force.
It lifted more than a hand’s width above the net tape.
A tactical error on her part. It would be an easy forehand smash for him.
If he had popped one up like that, she would have crushed that ball straight down the middle and killed the point.
Lulu flinched, moving her body out of the potential missile strike zone. But just as she curved her torso to avoid the ball, Tyler did the unexpected. He biffed the ball into the net.
And while the crowd cheered with excitement at Lulu’s win, Tyler looked to the camera with a helpless shrug.
But Lulu did not celebrate her win. Because she knew it was impossible. Tyler was a pro. He had let her win. He had thrown the game.
Tyler reached across the net to tap paddles. And stone-faced, she tapped back. Ariana flicked off her livestream and moved to Lulu, arms outstretched for a congratulatory hug.
But Lulu was already facing off with Tyler. “I can’t believe you would do that,” she glowered. “Why would you let me win? You don’t think I can handle losing? Or was this just you trying to repair your image so you can be the good guy for your adoring audience?”
Ariana dropped her arms, pivoted, and walked away.
Tyler looked genuinely puzzled. “What are you talking about? And why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad,” Lulu protested. Her nostrils flared and she glared at him. With casual pretense, the rest of the spectators dispersed back to their games.
“You are mad,” Tyler said. He dropped his voice. “Come on, Lu. This has been going on all week. You seem into me one minute and then suddenly you’re mad at me again and I’ve got to tell you, I seriously don’t get why. What is going on?”
And just like that, the big picture hit her.
In the last fifteen years, all she had seen of Tyler was his public face.
Apparently, that was all he was willing to share.
He had kept his divorce from Sapphire close to his chest and had left her to wonder.
He had made her feel special and wanted, and then sent smiley emojis to some private Olivia person.
And for the public, he had let her win at pickleball just when she was beginning to feel like she was pretty good at it and would have been happy just scoring a few points off him.
She breathed out a frustrated lungful of air. “Can we talk for a minute? I mean, really. Like have an honest-to-goodness conversation,” she seethed through her teeth.
“Here?” he asked, incredulous, peering around at the crowded courts.
Lulu glanced around. The only space private enough to hide from prying eyes was the trailer set up beside the courts.
She beckoned him to follow before marching up the metal staircase. Lulu flung open the door, and Tyler followed her inside. He glanced around and narrowed his eyes at Lulu. “This is a bathroom.”
“Your powers of observation are unsurpassed.” Struggling to find her voice, she sputtered, “You let me win.”
“I swear, Lu. I didn’t. You beat me fair and square.”
“You weren’t even watching the ball. You were watching me. Like it was too easy for you.”
“That’s not why I was watching you, Lu. I was watching you because you were playing like a picklegoddess and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And that is why I lost the game.”
That was an exasperating reason. How dare he compliment her when she was feeling this conflicted already. And because she didn’t know what else to say to that, she stammered, “I’m really mad at you!”
“Why?” he asked, with infuriating sincerity. “Lu, I’m not a mind reader. I’ve told you. If you want any kind of open communication here, you’re going to have to let me know what the problem is in the first place.”
“Well. For one thing…” How could she tell him that she’d seen those texts from Olivia? “You act like you’re so interested in me, but you’re a player, Tyler. There’s always some other woman waiting in the wings.”
“Sapphire?!” His eyes bugged. “I told you what that was about…”
Did she have to spell it out? Even if she did, he would just tiptoe around the truth.