Authors: Maddie Cochere
“Shall we hit a lag shot to see who serves first?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he said dryly. “Don’t you know the rules?”
This man was so appalling to me, a
nd his nature so abrasive,
I felt my skin crawl for a second. In a friendly game, most men will defer to the lady and let her serve first, but not this jerk. He didn’t even offer to let me hit the lag shot first.
His easy shot hit the front wall, bounced off, and landed about a foot from the short line of the service box. My lag shot landed about half an inch from the short line of the service box. I would serve first.
He
gave me a dirty look as he turned to take his position at the back of the court. I set up in the service box, bounced the ball twice, and took a deep breath. I looked back to check his position and briefly saw Betsy Ann on the sofa giving me thumbs-up with both hands. I couldn’t contain a small smile.
I
served the ball low and hard into the front wall, driving it down the right side of the court and into the corner. I heard Carl’s racquet hit the wall, but he couldn’t get a piece of the ball, and it died for the ace. He muttered an expletive under his breath.
I made the almost identical shot to the left side of the court. He was able to get his racquet on the ball, but
didn’t have
enough oomph behind it to return it to the front wall. The first two points went to me. His face was slightly purple. I was weighing whether or not I should let him in the game at all. Maybe it wa
sn’t such a good idea to
shut him out. I served an easy serve into his forehand.
He drilled the ball into the center of my back. It was excruciatingly painful. I’ve had my share of balls drilled into my body, but the center of the back really takes the cake. Slimeball guys actually did this on purpose because when hit, most women thrust their chests outward while howling in pain and trying to reach around behind them to rub the painful spot. It was juvenile on the man’s part, and it was almost always done on purpose. It only took one time
,
when I was first learning to play
,
to fall for this trick and then fin
d out later
all the guys were waiting for me to stick my boobs out at them. I never did it again.
I made no sound or reaction to the blow, and I refused to look at Carl. I took my position in the service box and bent over slightly at the waist waitin
g for the pain to subside. Within the hour,
a
nasty
,
purple, b
lack
, and b
lue
bruise with a white center
would be visible
on my back
.
I was
angry
, and there would be no mercy for him
now
.
Carl liked to hit the ball hard
which carried it
far, and it kept coming off the back wall setting me up for
shots. I returned as many
as I could with my backhand – even from the right side of the court. My backhand was my strongest shot and it was wicked. Balls taken off of the back wall were sent smokin’ low into the front wall, and I had several kill shots
,
which resulted in the ball rolling straight out onto the floor
,
giving Carl no opportunity for a return shot.
When the score was 10-0, Carl called for a time out. As we walked to
ward
the door to exit the court, he said to me through gritted teeth
,
and with a tone
exuding
hatred, “You’re not going to do this to me in front of all of these people. You’re going to let this score become tied, and
you’re going to lose, or I’m
going to be sure you never work in this business again.” With
a purple face
, he stormed off the court.
I was shaken by his intensity. Could he really do t
hat? Betsy Ann said he wouldn’t
have the final say in my termination, but now I wasn’t so sure. An ugly thought popped into my head. What if he meant he would kill me?
I stepped off the court, and someone yelled, “Hey, Susan, you didn’t tell us you were a professional player.” Everyone laughed. I heard several people talking about my backhand. Paul Diamond, the training director, had come to watch. He pulled me aside and asked, “Susan, are you sure you want to win over Carlton? He doesn’t like losing, and
most of the employees know
they should let him win.”
I nodded and smiled at the man. “I’ll take care of it,” I told him. I hated the thought of letting Carl win, but
it was probably the smart thing to
do.
Betsy Ann and Gregory
came
over with a bottle of water for me. Carl was walking back onto the court. Gregory asked, “Are you going to kick his
-
”
“Gregory!” Betsy Ann interrupted. “Susan, you go right ahead and win this game. Don’t you worry about Carlton. He’s needed someone to take him down a peg or two ever since he got here. I’ve spoken to Mortimer Davis several times since he heard you in the meeting yesterday, and he isn’t going to let you go anywhere. You go girl,” she said with a little fist pump. It was cute coming from her.
“Oh, yeah! This is going to be good,” Gregory
said
as he did some hopping up and down. He could barely contain his excitement.
I smiled at both of them and said, “I’ll do my best.”
My next two serves went in for aces. Carl was shooting daggers at me with his eyes. I only needed three more points. He tried to hit me again on my next serve, but I was watching his movements and was prepared for the juvenile move. I lunged, and his shot went wide completely missing the front wall. I sent up a soft lob shot on the next serve. It drifted high and slowly toward the back left corner. Carl swung his racquet too soon completely missing the ball.
14-0. I only needed one more point to win the game and shut him out. I could see all of the veins in his neck, and the one on his forehead was bulging. I set for the serve and blasted it hard from the front wall down the left side. Carl lunged for the ball, missed it, and fell on
to
the court. I could hear a cheer go up from the other side of the glass, but it was quickly quelled by someone, probably Mr. Diamond.
Carl
scrambled to his feet
, and wi
th his back to the glass so
no one
would know
what he was saying, he
snarled
at me, “You’re going to be sorry for
all of
this
. You’re going to be sorry
you turned me down,
that you
opened that door, and
that
did this in front of all of these people.
”
Rather than to cower and be frightened, he had snapped my last nerve, and I had more anger than fear. I stood close to him so
no one would
see what I was saying, and I
snarled
right back at him, “I know what you did. I know you had Gilbert To
rres murdered. I don’t have
proof, a
nd I’m leaving soon, so there’s
nothing I can do abou
t it, but I know what
scum you
are,
and you’ll
get yours
. Hopefully soon.” I
stomped
past him and out the door of the court.
My knees were
weak, and not in a good way. Mr. Diamond
looked
shocked, but I wouldn’t be meeting with him anymore this week, and I simply didn’t care. Betsy Ann and Gregory were trying to suppress their smiles and giggles as Carl walked off the court and marched right t
o the locker room. I heard later
that
he left as soon as he
changed his clothes.
I stayed long enough to play two more games with a couple of the women, and
I
gave a quick group backhand lesson to anyone who wanted to join in.
After a f
ast shower and a change into
street clothes, I met Betsy Ann in the lobby for a ride back to the hotel. Once in the car she said, “Susan, I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun, especially with p
eople from work. That was
a lot of excitement tonight.”
“It will be interesting to see how things go tomorrow,” I told her. “I’m sure Mr. Waltham isn’t going to want to see me.”
She smiled and reached over to pat me on the arm. “Don’t worry about it. You may have done us all a favor tonight.”
I dug around in my purse until I found
my cell phone
.
I had missed a call from Mick. I
would
call him later from the hotel room. I punched in Darby’s speed dial number. He answered on the first ring and asked cheerfully, “How’d it go? Did you whoop on everybody?”
“Kind of,” I told him with a laugh. “Betsy Ann is bringing me back right now. Can you meet me in the lobby?”
“I sure can
,” he said
.
“
Do you want to get some dinner?”
“How about room service?” I proposed. “I’m really beat after the late night last night and then working out so hard tonight. Would that be ok?”
“Of course it would. I’ll see you shortly,” he
said before hanging up
.
“Thank you,
Betsy Ann,” I told her
as she pulled up to the hotel entrance
. “I
love this sport, and it’s always so much fun to play in new clubs and with new people.”
“I’m still so impressed, Susan, and you were so kind to help everyone like you did. I can see
you’re going to be very good in your
new
training position.”
I thanked her again, and gave her a cheerful, “See you in the morning!” as I exited the car.
I had mixed emotions as I walked to the front doors, b
ut I was definitely elated
I
had kicked Carl to the curb.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“You did what?!” Darby
shrieked
at me
while
making motions as though he was pulling his hair out.
Instead of calling for room service,
he
had run down and talked the bartender at Wolfgang Puck into getting Reuben sandwiches and raspberry iced tea for us. We had just sat down to eat when I told him with a
big smile on my face that I
smoked Carl in racquetball. He freaked on me.
“Susan, this man had someone
murdered. He had someone
shoot
at
you. What in the world would posses
s you to humiliate him
?”
I shrugged my shoulders and sta
rted to get defensive. “He
rubbed me the wrong way from the
start. He told me
if I didn’t let him win, he would make sure I was fired or something like that.”
Darby’s mouth hung open, and he
shrieked again
, “See! He’ll either have you killed or ruin your career for you.”
I didn’t want him yelling at me. I tried to calm him by saying, “Betsy Ann assur
ed me
he couldn’t do anything to get me fired, and both she and Gregory were telling me to take it to him, so I did.”
He
stood up and did some pacing by the dresser. He finally
took a deep breath
and sat down
again
. “Ok, maybe I’m overreacting. I was more than a little disturbed by what we found in th
e
hotel room today, and I was against you playing racquetball with Carl from the beginning, but I can see why you did, and maybe
it
will be ok.”
I s
miled
and reached over to put my hand o
ver his. “It’s going to be
fine
,” I said
.
“
For some reason, I don’t feel as if I’m in any dange
r at all. We won’t be here
much longer, Nate and Mick wil
l both be here soon, and I
don’t think any of this matters in the grand scheme of our lives. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to love these Reubens on pretzel bread.”
He smiled
and nodded his head. He didn’t say much over dinner
,
other than mumbling
through mouthfuls of food
how much he liked the Reuben
,
but
he liked mine better.
It was 10:30 when we were done e
ating, and we both decided
we’d had enough e
xcitement for the day. I was so
physically and mentally exhausted, I knew I
would
be able to go to sleep with no problems – even on a full stomach.