Page 9

9

ADAM

T wo days later a video of Pepper in what appears to be a wind tunnel drops into WhatsApp. Her eyes are shut, and her furry little head is tipped back like she’s in ecstasy. I stop working on the board I’m designing as a laugh barrels up my throat. She closed her eyes like that every time I gave her a rubdown. One word from Anna follows the video:

Blow-dry!

I like a woman who’s easy to please. Where are you?

A fancy-ass dog salon on Lexington.

Sounds like fun.

Yes! The pinnacle of a woman’s existence is a bespoke wash and dry.

A bespoke wash and dry? I could make some cheeky comment here, but that would be treading over a line, right? Adam, don’t be an ass. Who in their right mind makes jokes like that to a world-class tennis player? The dots stop and start again:

It’s perfect, actually. No wonder Pepper’s so happy. Much better than all this tennis business.

That is one pampered pooch.

I love her expression! It’s like the When Dogs Drive cartoon.

She knows who Gary Larson is? I press the call icon on her message.

“You like Gary Larson?” I say.

Anna laughs. “Oh God yes. I’m a huge fan of The Far Side !”

I raise my eyebrows. She’s Russian—how does she know who Gary Larson even is? Shut up, Adam, with your assumptions. She probably has eclectic interests, and why not? Not everyone is my mother.

“You like cartoons?”

“You’d be surprised what you do for a bit of light relief when you’re resting after eight hours of training a day.”

Eight hours? No wonder she’s such a superstar. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. I could suggest a book festival or a comic con. I want to laugh at myself. Look at the nerd talking—he wants to take a famous tennis player to a book festival.

“I was wondering,” she says, as though she’s read my mind, “whether we could schedule another event together?”

“Only if it’s a dog show,” I say. Much better idea than books, Adam.

“Oh my God, that would be my dream date.”

Now I am laughing. She’s so easy to please. I thought people like her were all divas. Perhaps I could find some tickets? I’d be down for that. I start scrolling on my phone.

“I could get some blow-drying tips,” she adds .

“I think we could discover all sorts of exotic dog-pampering techniques.”

She laughs. “That sounds like fun.”

“Okay, there’s something called the American Kennel Club National Championship but that’s in Florida. Let’s park that thought, and I’ll investigate some others. Did you have any other ideas?”

“I’ve got loads of invites for November and December. You could take your pick.”

My jaw drops. “What kinds of things?”

“Oh, gallery openings, parties, promotional events run by sponsors. Some of those I have to attend. They’re usually boring as hell. Movie premieres.”

Movie premieres? “Would you like to see me fight?” God, will the open-your-mouth-and-come-out-with-an-awful-idea never end?

“What?”

“I’ve got a jujitsu competition this weekend. It’s nothing special, nothing like …”

“You do jujitsu? God, I’d love to watch that.”

“It’s very amateur. Not professional or anything.”

She gives a delighted laugh. “It sounds amazing. You’re an unusual man, Adam Miller.”

Voices reach me from the background. “Oh! Fans. Hang on.” Her voice muffles.

I wait on the line, catching some faint laughter, conversation, and a dog bark.

“Sorry, I just needed to sign some autographs. Let me get out of this salon.” Her voice mutes again.

When she comes back on, she says, “The worst thing about Pepper is that she was a present from Arty.”

“She was a gift from an awful boyfriend? Ugh.”

“Exactly.”

“I could say something trite here like sometimes the best things come from the worst things, but honestly, that’s bullshit and it sucks that Pepper was a present from him. ”

“Yeah, it does. Most of the time I forget about it, because otherwise every time I looked at her it would remind me.” Her breath whispers in my ear. “He’s trying to take her away from me.”

“Oh, fuck. Are you kidding me?”

“It’s going to cost in the region of two hundred thousand dollars in legal fees, or so my lawyers tell me. Arty’s determined to go to court.”

“What?”

“When you reach the top of something, people file lawsuits against you all the time.” She tuts. “I’m sorry, I must sound like some whiny diva to you.”

“God, Anna, no. You’re a professional tennis player. It’s not like you’re on Dancing with the Stars or something. What the hell do people take you to court for?”

“Copyright infringement, mistreatment of staff, employment law, abuse. Sometimes, like this, it’s for the publicity. You name it, people do it.”

“What do they get out of it?”

“Money, usually. But mostly it’s a raised profile. That’s why Arty is going after Pepper. He was always doing shit like this, plotting his next move to generate press coverage. I think he was delighted when we split up. Perhaps he even engineered it deliberately so he could milk it for all it was worth. Sponsors pay for column inches. Performance can be secondary.”

It’s a clear reminder that our relationship might end up being measured in column inches, too. The thought tastes a little sour. Anna is a nice person, and fun, too. I’m glad we agreed on friends: It gives this a relaxed vibe I wasn’t expecting, and we both seem to be thinking this will be a bit of fun. But, given her profile, there’s bound to be speculation, too. Will we have to go through some dramatic breakup for the sake of column inches? A shiver runs down my spine.

“I don’t want to be a disappointment, but I am not the guy for creating a drama that gets publicity.”

She hoots in my ear. “God, no, Adam, you have no idea how little I want that. It can mushroom out of control so fast. I want to keep the comments about my tennis where they belong, before and after games, and damp down all the speculation about fitness and performance and who’s a rival of who, to allow me to relax into my game. Is that selfish? Believe me, after the last two years, the last thing I want is drama. I’m delighted you’re a no-drama kind of guy.”

After seeing all the remarks about the event and me afterward, I get it now. “That doesn’t sound selfish to me; it sounds sensible.”

“Anyway, send me the details for the jujitsu. I’d love to come along.”

I’m ridiculously flattered by this, who wouldn’t be when a gorgeous woman wants to come and see you fight? I’m getting attached to Anna, I can tell I am, and warmth is washing through my bloodstream. She’s a delightful person, fun and a total surprise. But it’s not like I’m interested in stepping into another relationship or anything. I can keep this about being friends. Easy-peasy.