Chapter 34 #2
“How much did you have a hand in the design?” she asked.
Absolutely none.
I swallowed my honest answer and tried to force enthusiasm. “I worked really closely with the designers at ELITE, really pitching
them my vision for a pair of sneakers that were both fashion-forward and comfortable. And I really love the mix of color,
with the green and the white.”
The journalist nodded, and without even skipping a beat, the line of questioning switched. “Scottie Sinclair’s sneakers sold
out in under an hour. Do you feel pressure to hit that same benchmark?”
My stomach twisted uncomfortably at the question, my eyes almost immediately finding the blonde player across the room.
This time, I didn’t force a smile. “I could see how it would be easy to pit us against each other; we are competitors after all.” I thought of Scottie, in the Hamptons.
How she’d immediately greeted me with kindness.
Did she get these questions too? Were we all a part of the same machine?
I swallowed it all down, continuing, “But off court, I don’t think that should be the case. I’m sure both our lines will be
successful in their own right.”
The journalist hummed, as if unhappy with my answer. I took a sip from my glass, nearly gulping down a mouthful. But instead,
I winced, the flavor leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.
All of a sudden, the dimly lit wine bar came flooding back. Inés’s eyes on mine, her hands on me, her mouth . . .
“Are you worried at all, with this happening so quickly, about being seen as a brand rather than a player?” The question pulled
me back. What kind of interview was this? I looked around the busy Brooklyn warehouse, searching for somebody to call on to get me away from this woman, but nobody
was paying any attention.
“Furthermore, if the US Open doesn’t go your way, how will that affect your ‘brand’? Don’t you think your fans are waiting
for you to recapture that spectacular win you had back in Paris?”
I wanted to walk away, to end this interview, but I knew that was unprofessional and would make whatever they did end up reporting
worse. Maybe it was better to stay, to smile through the discomfort.
Trying to pivot, I answered, “I’m a tennis player first and only. Brand deals, like this one with ELITE, are fantastic partnerships
to have—”
She cut me off. “Like your partnership with Inés Costa.”
This time, it felt impossible to ignore the deeper instinct kicking in. “That’s different.”
“Different in that you’ve been romantically linked together? I know fans are feverish to get an update on your relationship.”
“Our professional relationship as hitting partners,” I stated matter-of-factly.
“And your relationship off court?”
“That’s private.” The words felt like a jagged knife, cutting deep into me.
I knew I didn’t owe anyone our relationship status.
I had seen for myself the speculation online.
I guess we hadn’t been as sneaky as we thought we had.
Even an innocent photo of our first date had found its way online, where we’d been walking down the street together.
I glanced across the room, back over to Calvin, as if begging him to intervene.
“But that wasn’t always the case. Up until a few weeks ago, the story in the media was that you were rivals. After all, you
destroyed her every time you played, and she’s a fan favorite,” she said pointedly. I hated remembering the past between us,
how hard that had been on her and how much I had missed.
Even now, being here at an ELITE function. It couldn’t be forgotten that I had her space here.
I kept my tone firm and level, refusing to let her see through the cracks. “We are working together professionally on court
and off. We have grown past the professional rivalry.”
“So, you don’t want to give any update to the rumors?”
“There’s no update.”
“Are you denying that you’re dating?”
Annoyance didn’t just prick, it hit me full on in the face. Why was she badgering me? Did she think I’d be dumb and stupid
and slip up?
Then I realized, that was exactly what they expected. She’d seen me on court enough times to realize that when you annoy Chloe
Murphy, she breaks down and spills out all over the court.
She’d seen the weakness, and she thought she could exploit it. And maybe a few weeks ago, she would have been right. I’d been
a hothead, determined and uncontrollable and full of a rage that burned pure white.
But that was a different Chloe.
“No.” I shook my head, channeling all my anger into a clenched fist. Keeping my voice firm, I insisted again, “I’m saying
there’s no update.”
I knew who I was, I knew what I owed them and it wasn’t an answer to this. I gave them everything else, but not her.
“Chloe!” Calvin interrupted the interview, stepping in between the journalist and me. He nodded to me, pointing across the room. “I’m so sorry, we have to move on. Plenty more interviews to give and all that.”
I didn’t even say goodbye to the journalist, not wanting to give her another second of my time. I walked away so fast that
I nearly tripped up, the heels they’d dressed me in too high.
I wanted to find Inés, needed her to pull me into her arms the way she did. Kiss my forehead. Tell me it was all okay.
Looking over my shoulder, I met Calvin’s gaze, the locked jaw telling me he was less than pleased with me. Calvin nodded across
the room, pointing me towards the entrance hallway.
Crap. Was he putting his coach hat on? I could feel the stress headache growing already.
I turned the corner, Calvin still on my heels, and immediately burst out in my defense. “Look, I know you’re mad but they
were pushing me too far. I don’t want to talk about my private life, and that’s a boundary I’m going to keep.”
He blinked twice, drawing backwards, his features falling. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.”
I searched his face for any other answer, replaying the last interview in my head. “Then what is it?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” My worries immediately slipped away at his admission. “It looked like she was making
you really uncomfortable.”
I leaned against the brick wall, the coolness seeping into my skin as I looked down the hallway. “She asked me to comment
on my relationship with Inés.”
I hadn’t spoken to Calvin about what was happening between us yet. Partially because talking about this shit with your brother
was weird, and also because we hadn’t spoken to anyone about being a couple.
But with the rumors online, and journalists asking questions, maybe it was time.
“It’s just rumors? Dani didn’t think they’d be a problem,” he said. “And it will all die down when you and Inés stop working together.”
At his words, I drew back with confusion, catching his gaze. “Stop? When?”
“There are two weeks left. Remember, the plan was to end the partnership after the US Open. I’m sure Inés will have things
lined up. After all, working with you has been great for her PR. The coverage has done wonders.”
I scrambled for words, for the right words, but they slipped away like loose threads I couldn’t grab hold of.
So instead, I said the only thing that would come out, small and hollow: “I forgot that there was an end.”
What if she stopped needing me after the arrangement was over? What if we grew apart, attended different tournaments, took
different training sessions, visited different cities? After being together these last few weeks, I hated the idea of being
apart.
“But that’s not a big deal, right?” he said.
“Yeah, of course,” I snapped too quickly, showing my hand and revealing far too much. “It’s nothing.”
His eyebrows bunched together. “Is there . . . is there something going on?” His head lowered, his eyes finding mine.
Exhaling a deep breath, I began, “Inés is . . .” I trailed off, realizing I wasn’t quite sure how to describe our relationship.
“We’re . . . something.”
His eyes narrowed. “Define something.”
“Am I still speaking to the sibling version of you?” I asked, his demand not sounding too brotherly to my ear.
“I’ll rephrase,” he said. “What does she mean to you? Is she only a teammate? Rival? Friend?” He grimaced at the next word. I was definitely still talking to Brother Calvin.
“Lover?”
“All four? It’s complicated.”
He rolled his eyes, slumping against the wall. “It’s definitely that.”
I lost his attention there, Coach Calvin clearly taking over and immediately going into overdrive thinking of the implications of my dating Inés.
“I’m sorry,” I said, slumping next to him.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “These last few weeks, it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you.” I pulled him into a hug as
he continued speaking. “It’s complicated professionally, but I’m really happy for you. I think the two of you will be so good
together.”
“Thanks,” I answered.
“So, can I ask how long?” Calvin said. “Since it’s actually real and not something Dani told you to do for PR behind my back. The more we know, the better we can control the narrative.”
I forced an awkward smile. “Toronto?”
“The airport hotel?” he asked, his tone surprised. His hand pushed through his hair. “I knew that room was a problem.”
“I wouldn’t quite describe it that way.” I smiled softly at him, just wanting to go home, back to the hotel, back to her.
Take off these damn shoes and let her help me out of this dress.
“Is this something you both wanted to keep under wraps?” he asked, curiosity crinkling his features. “If the press is asking
questions, then there’s obviously chatter. We will need to talk to Dani about it.”
“I want it private, but that does not mean it’s a secret.” I swallowed, thinking back to the interview. “The journalist, she
asked me if I’m more of a brand than a player.”
“I should have never let her talk to you.” Calvin turned, as if he was ready to go back and hunt her down, but with a hand
on his arm, I pulled him back.
“It’s fine. I survived.” I shrugged his concerns away.
“But it helped me understand. I’m not a brand, not more than a tennis player.
But I do understand that my career is funded by brands, who use my name and image to sell things, and that makes me a commodity.
” I took a deep breath, needing a moment to let my own realization sink in.
When I spoke again, my words were clear, my tone serious.
“However, my life is not for public consumption. My relationships are not for sale.”
Calvin nodded. “I wouldn’t ever ask you to do that.”
“I know,” I said with the same seriousness. “I doubt you’d even pitch the idea if it ever came to you. That’s why I like our
working relationship.”
“I’m glad you know that.”
I smiled at him, trying to relax the serious atmosphere around us. “We should probably get back out there. Do I need to do
more interviews?”
“No.” He shook his head, my relief instant. “Maybe some photos, but don’t talk to anyone else until we figure this out. I
don’t want you to suffer through more questions. If anyone has a problem with it, I’ll take the heat.”
“My hero.”
“You’re welcome.”
We both headed back into the main space, Dani catching us and pulling me over to take some photos with the sneakers I’d apparently
helped design.
And as I stood there, forcing a smile and interest, all I could think about was Inés.
Was she planning for the future? And was it her future or ours? I knew she had every right to explore her options, to see
what opportunities were coming her way after her recent success.
She’d been making it further in tournaments. She was recovering, finally, from whatever had been holding her back these last
few years. It made me so proud of her. But what if it was the same thing that took her away from me?
She wouldn’t need this partnership forever. What if she didn’t need me anymore either?