22. Piper
PIPER
Was running late the new theme in my life? At the last minute, Olive had decided that she needed her lucky hair scrunchie, and by the time I found it in the couch cushions, we were going to be late for both school and my first session with my tournament partner.
Luckily, traffic had been on our side, and I’d gotten Olive to school with one minute to spare.
My hands shook as I drove to the club to meet my mystery partner.
I didn’t know anything about him other than Lisa told me he had tennis experience and would complement my style, whatever the heck that meant.
She’d been a little cagey about details, and I excitedly wondered if she managed to score a ringer, maybe a retired professional.
I grabbed my paddle and water bottle, trying to calm my nerves. This plan was insane, but twenty-five thousand dollars. Half of that would be more than enough to pay for Olive’s enrollment in the camp.
The pock of balls from the court and many voices calling out scores told me the courts were crowded.
I rounded the corner to the courts and froze. Was I losing my mind? Why the hell was Gideon Bailey on my court? The man wasn’t facing me, but I knew that ass. Dark curls peeked out from beneath his blue hat, and his wide shoulders flexed under his T-shirt as he stretched.
Before I could retreat to the safety of the clubhouse, he turned, his face dropping the moment he recognized me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” we both groaned at the same time.
If it was anyone but Gideon, it would’ve been a funny moment. Lisa was at the far end of the court and approached with a grin. “Lisa,” I hissed. “What have you done?”
Gideon crossed his arms, and his lips narrowed to a line.
“You two know each other?” There was a tremble in her voice. She was very aware that I knew Gideon Bailey. What kind of stunt was she pulling?
“We’ve met,” Gideon said, his voice flat. “I’m leaving.”
“Not if I leave first.” I turned on my heel.
“Piper, wait!” Lisa shouted. “You’re both here. Why don’t we hit a few balls and see how it goes?”
I wanted to run. Get back in my Honda and drive straight home. Fight or flight had kicked in, and my brain was screaming flight. But Olive. The camp. Twenty-five thousand dollars. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Gideon replied.
Lisa put us on the far side of the court and started feeding us balls.
At first, I tried to stay as far to the side of the court as possible, but after about ten minutes of trying to maximize my distance from Gideon, my competitive instinct took over.
The next shot was a high one, and Gideon was too far forward in the court. He shuffled backward but wasn’t going to make it. “Mine,” I shouted and smashed the ball across the net. Lisa couldn’t return it.
“I could’ve gotten that,” he grumbled.
“As if,” I whispered under my breath and returned to my position.
Despite the obvious tension, we started clicking. Gideon kept Lisa at the back of her court, and I dropped lob shots forward. If it had been an actual game, the play would’ve been perfect.
“Your serve is weak,” I said as we switched sides.
“You shouldn’t have used your backhand,” he shot back.
“At least I’m not trying to kill every ball.”
Lisa held up her hand and gestured for us to meet her at the net. “You two have a good rhythm together. It’s like you’ve played together before.”
I was going to murder my friend.
We continued practicing, and I hated to admit she was right.
We were good together, better than anyone I’d tried to recruit as a partner these past couple of weeks.
But between serves, the temperature on that hot Florida court seemed to drop about twenty degrees. Things were downright icy between us.
“You’re crowding the kitchen line,” he said after I missed an easy shot.
“You’re hitting everything like you’re trying to break the paddle. This isn’t hockey.”
“It’s hard to believe that you have a tennis background, or did you lie about that too?” His eyes narrowed.
I stopped. His words stung. “Maybe if you’d given me a chance to explain, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened. “A chance to explain? You lost that chance when you decided I was too shallow to handle your ‘truth,’ whatever the hell that is.” He air quoted “truth.”
“And you proved me right!” My voice was getting louder, but I couldn’t seem to control it.
Gideon’s eyes flashed. “You want to know what disgusts me? It’s not that you clean houses. It’s that you thought so little of me that you assumed I’d care.”
“Then why did you walk away?”
“Because you lied to me! About everything that mattered!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Lisa ran around the net. Our argument had drawn us closer together, and she had to squeeze in between us to push us apart. “Stop it.”
We were both breathing hard. Lisa backed away, looking like she regretted the setup. As she should. I wasn’t sure whether I was angrier at Gideon or her.
“You know what the worst part is?” Gideon said, his voice deadly quiet. “For a few minutes there, I actually thought we could make this work. That maybe we could put the past aside and just play.”
“And now?”
“Now I remember why I walked away the first time.” He picked up his water bottle and towel. “Good luck finding another partner, Piper. You’re going to need it.”
“I don’t need luck. And I sure as hell don’t need you,” I hissed. “Go to hell, Gideon.”
“Already there, thanks to you. Lisa, I’m sorry this didn’t work out.”
He was walking away when I called after him. “You’re exactly what I thought you were. Just another entitled hockey player who thinks the world revolves around him.”
Gideon stopped and turned back. “And you’re a liar who hates herself.”
“I hate you.” I meant it.
“Good. That makes two of us.”
Lisa put her hand on my arm. “Piper, you’re making a scene.”
I hadn’t noticed we had an audience. Three of Judy’s luncheon club ladies, the young, hot ones, had slowed their walk to stare at the court. I was surprised they hadn’t pulled out their phones to film some “content.”
“Show’s over,” I muttered as I walked past them.
“Well,” said the blonde one who looked like Margot Robbie’s sister, “that was the best thing I’ve seen all week.”
I stopped walking. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, nothing personal,” the blonde replied. “That was passionate. Fiery.”
My nostrils flared. It took everything in me to not slap the smile off her perfect face. “Glad I could entertain you.”
The redhead leaned on the fencing. “Gideon’s a catch. How did someone like you get with him?” She studied her nails instead of looking at me.
The brunette, the one who was at the hockey game, patted my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find someone suitable.”
In my mind, I’d already pulled her long brown hair.
“Girls, be nice.” The other blonde shook her head. “We all know what it’s like.” She turned to me and was the only one in the group who looked me in the eye. “Don’t let a man get you down.”
She was the only one who seemed genuine. Suddenly, smiles spread across all the women’s faces, and approaching footsteps put an end to the mean girls scene.
The steps belonged to Gideon. He stopped beside me. “Ladies, I apologize for the dramatic practice session. It’s pickleball. Sometimes things get heated.”
The fit of giggles that broke out amongst the Desperate Housewives of Azalea Bay made my blood boil.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re playing tomorrow morning. You should join us. It will be much more… civilized,” mean blonde said.
Gideon glanced at me, then back at the four women of the pickle-apolypse. “You know what?” he said. “I could use some partners who don’t qualify for old age pension. social security.”
Giggles. Lots of them. I was done. I walked away as they made their plans.
I stood in the parking lot for a long time after they left, my hands still shaking with anger and something that felt a little bit like heartbreak. For forty-five minutes on that court, despite everything between us, Gideon and I had been magic. Now, he was going to play with those vapid women.
And now, because neither of us could swallow our pride long enough to have an actual conversation, I was back to square one. No partner, no tournament, no camp for Olive.
“I hate you, Gideon,” I whispered.