Page 20 of Serve (Men of Hidden Creek Season 1, #5)

Chapter Sixteen

Chip- Rome

“Are you ready to watch his interview?”

Aunt Dixie fumbled with the remote while Chip and Tina sat on either side of her. Tyler flew her into Madrid, hoping she’d help Chip with his homesickness, and so far it was working. Now they were in Rome, and she’d taken control of their itinerary.

“It’s always strange seeing him on television, like he’s another person. Even his voice sounds different.” Chip said.

“In a way it is another person. That’s Tyler, the super-professional sports star who’s graced magazine covers and held numerous trophies.

You know the real one, the guy who farts in bed and picks his nose when he thinks no one is looking.

” Aunt Dixie laughed, while Tina and Chip looked at her with open mouths.

“What are you two gaping at?” Aunt Dixie elbowed Chip. “I’ve known him longer than you, sweet pea.”

“Shhh. They’re starting.” Tina grabbed the remote from Dixie and turned up the volume.

Tyler was on the Euro Sports Channel, being interviewed by Marissa Cantor, a former tennis pro.

He was in a deep-blue suit, rare for him to wear, but he was spending the afternoon doing promotional stuff for the tour.

Even though Chip had helped him dress, even tying his tie, it took his breath away to see him on television.

Dashing was the only word he could think of to describe him, like a model on one of those romance books his aunt was always reading.

“Today we have a popular favorite with tennis fans around the globe, Tyler Florman. Welcome Tyler, good to see you back in action.”

“Thank you, it’s good to be here.” Tyler beamed at the camera.

“I was thrilled when you won Houston, but seeing you hold the trophy in Madrid was even more significant.” Marissa leaned forward in her seat, drawing his eyes to her.

“Well, Houston means a lot to me, because it’s my home tournament. I live close by, and it’s great to win in front of friends and neighbors. Madrid was important because it’s the first Masters’ title I’ve won in two years.” The look of satisfaction on his face shone for the cameras.

“You’ve also jumped back into the top twenty. There were a few observers who thought your career was almost over.” She came right to the point. Tyler shook his head and grinned.

“And they were wrong, weren’t they?” He said. The two laughed, then Marissa asked a tougher question.

“Other players were surprised when you hired Montserrat Hernandez to be your coach. How is that working out for you?”

“Emm is an awesome coach, and obviously she’s helping my game in a big way. She keeps me motivated, and is teaching me skills that are helping me win more tournaments.” He said.

“What they were surprised at was the fact that you hired a woman.” Marissa said. She raised her perfectly drawn eyebrows for effect.

“I think it’s ridiculous that people would be.

Amelie Mauresmo did a great job with Andy Murray, so why shouldn’t I hire a woman as well?

Emm is a former grand slam champion, and she knows how to win.

Her gender has nothing to do with anything.

I hired the most qualified person for the job, and it happened to be a woman.

Big deal.” He shrugged his shoulders and winked at Marissa.

“You tell her, Tyler!” Aunt Dixie yelled.

Chip shushed her.

“So what’s the future hold for you? I mean, you are obviously back in a big way.” Marissa said.

“I’m taking it one tournament at a time. Beyond that, the goal is Grand Slams.” He said. Beads of sweat appeared on his upper lip.

“The French Open is the next slam, but you’ve won that. I’m thinking Wimbledon is your next goal.”

“Well, yes. I love Paris, and to hold that trophy again would be amazing. But my sights are set on London.” A picture of him holding the trophy at the French Open five years ago appeared on the blue screen behind them. He was covered in red dirt, tears of joy snaking down his cheeks.

“If you win Wimbledon, you will join only eight other men in the history of the sport to have won all four grand slams.” She said. The picture behind them changed to a picture of the players who’d previously won the career grand slam.

“That would be a dream come true Marissa, but I have to take it one match at a time. It’s been my dream to have won all four of the slams, and I’m doing my best to make it a reality.”

“Thank you so much for dropping in today, Tyler. Best of luck in Rome.” She shook his hand.

“Thanks Marissa, always a pleasure.”

Emm popped her head in the doorway.

“Is he done?” She asked.

“Yeah, he did great. He talked about you.” Aunt Dixie stood and stretched her arms over her head.

“Oh? I was pretty sure it would happen eventually. The girl thing, right?” She laughed.

“Yep, totally about you being a girl, like you have no idea what to do with a tennis racket. I thought Amelie took care of this shit. I guess it’s going to take a while longer.” Tina said, shaking her head.

“I’m off to meet Tyler at the practice courts. Unless something comes up, we should be back here by five.” Emm said. Tina walked over and kissed her on the cheek. She turned and waved to Chip and Dixie.

“I’m going to rest in my room.” She said, then closed the door behind her. Once Tina and Emm were gone, Dixie grabbed the room service menus off the table.

“Bet they don’t have fried chicken in Italy, do they?” She bitched, holding the menu close while trying to decipher the Italian words.

Chip leaned back in his chair and laughed. It was good to have her by his side again. Almost as good as being back home.

Almost.

The atmosphere surrounding the tournament was like nothing Chip had experienced so far.

The Foro Italico was a stunning tennis complex.

Deep red clay courts surrounded by massive trees, and the smell of insanely delicious food floated through the air.

Players loved this tournament, because the crowds were notoriously passionate about the game, and the amenities were top notch.

It was a celebration of a classic sport that Italians loved.

Tyler floated through the draw, astounding the sports world.

If he’d been playing like his usual self, nobody would have batted an eyelash.

His muscular body was made for grinding out wins on the dirt.

No, what made everyone stand up and take notice was his new playing style.

Emm’s coaching was becoming more evident, as his new style of play annihilated every opponent he faced.

Instead of hanging on the baseline like a typical clay court player, he was taking his chances at the net, sliding forward whenever he got the chance.

This threw his opponents off balance, and halved the amount of time Tyler typically spent on court.

He was by no means a serve and volley player, but he was not waiting for his opportunities either.

Tyler created them, striking fear into the hearts of the other athletes.

He’d made it to the final, defeating two top-ten players ranked above him, and if he emerged victorious, he’d rise in the rankings to number eight in the world.

He’d fallen out of the top ten two years ago.

The locker room and the media buzzed with speculation about his sudden good fortunes.

In public, they attributed it to Emm, who was transforming Tyler from a defensive baseliner, into an offensive, all-court threat.

In private, they sensed a new, clear-headed focus they’d never known Tyler Florman to possess.

Gone was the brooding, quiet champion who shunned the other players.

Now a smile ruled in place of a frown, and he’d even been interacting with the crowds, becoming more of a showman.

He used to jog straight off the court after a match, ignoring the audience.

Now he was signing tennis balls and telling jokes to the crowds.

The media and the audience ate it up, while the locker room simmered with fear and jealousy.

Chip’s first time in Italy was a blur of hotel rooms and restaurants. By his side, Aunt Dixie kept up a running commentary of gossip and biting observations that kept his anxieties at bay.

The crowd was tired of waiting, the final delayed by a light rain shower.

Tyler told him before the match that the conditions were perfect for his game, and his opponent would hate it.

Humid conditions made the court slower, and the ball heavier.

Strong players like Tyler loved to hit a heavy ball, while Juan Flores, his Spanish opponent, hated it.

He was a smaller man with lightning-quick reflexes.

A dry, dusty court suited his game perfectly, making the ball faster.

The two players hit the ball back and forth over the net, warming up for a few minutes before the match got under way.

“He’s never beaten Juan before.” Emm said quietly, the roar of the crowd threatening to drown her out.

Her nerves were frayed. Despite Tyler’s success at the event so far, he’d come unglued earlier in the day.

A good coach would help a player with their fitness, and strategy.

A great coach did that, plus more. For two hours she reassured him, cajoling him to use his new arsenal of weapons.

Now he had a smile glued to his face, appearing relaxed and open to the crowd, and dangerous to Juan.

“Why? What’s that little shit got that Tyler don’t?” Dixie asked.

“He’s fast. He grew up on clay courts, so he’s used to them.

Tyler loves them, but like all American players, he grew up on hard courts, so he’s not used to them in the same way.

Juan has always relied on Tyler being defensive, hanging around on the baseline.

That’s not happening today.” She grinned.

“Tyler’s going to win.” Chip muttered. As soon as he did, the umpire called for the match to begin. Juan won the coin toss, and to the surprise of the audience, he elected to receive, instead of serving first.