Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to write me a review. Your words of encouragement, and also your criticisms and advice, are much appreciated. As some of you have asked, yes, I am a fan of the actual sport. I also understand that this might seem like an ambitious storyline to some, but I hope to do it justice. Feel free to keep nudging me in what you might think is the right direction, and I promise to take all suggestions on board.
Thank you for reading :)
Rachel towelled her face dry as she stepped off the sunny court and into the artificially lit, and thankfully air-conditioned, corridor. She immediately set her kit bag down before unzipping one side and pulling out her cellphone. The brunette wasted no time in making a call, absentmindedly drying her once again sweaty face as she waited patiently for her call to be answered.
Rachel heard a click. "Sweetheart! We are so proud of you!"
The tennis player couldn't stop her face from breaking out into a blinding smile if she'd tried. "Thank you Daddy!"
She could hear her other father asking to be handed the phone, and grinned as she listened to the sounds of the phone changing hands. "You were excellent darling! Congratulations! Wait, your Daddy is being annoying..." There was a click, "There, now you're on loudspeaker."
Rachel laughed, "Thank you Daddy, Papa. And thank you for staying up to watch the game."
Hiram huffed, "As if we would miss our baby girl's Grand Slam debut. You were so good out there sweetheart. Rock solid. How are you feeling?"
A door at the other end of the corridor opened, and Rachel spotted Shelby making her way towards her. The two women made eye contact, and Shelby's face split into a grin that matched Rachel's. "I'm alright Daddy. Just happy I made it through. The crowd wasn't very welcoming at the start."
"That's to be expected when you're playing a local", Leroy piped up. "They seemed to like you by the end of it though."
Shelby reached Rachel, and wrapped her charge in a quick embrace before handing her a protein bar. Rachel rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear as she unwrapped the bar. "That's true. They seemed to appreciate our play. I even got some very encouraging words when I was signing autographs at the end." She took a bite of the bar.
"Did you hear that Hiram? Our baby girl is signing autographs!" Rachel could hear the emotion in her Papa's voice, and once again found herself wishing they were in Melbourne to celebrate this momentous occasion with her.
Hiram also sounded choked up when he spoke, "I can't say this enough Rachel. We are so, so proud of you."
Rachel found herself blinking away tears, "Thanks Daddy. I wouldn't be here without your endless support all these years." She finished the last of her protein bar, only to be handed a bottle of drink from Shelby, who mouthed 'Gotta stay hydrated.'
"So, what do you do now?" asked Leroy.
"Um, I'm going to warm down, take a shower and go into my media interview before jumping onto the massage table for a bit. The heat out there was really sapping" she replied, taking a bit swig of the drink.
"Alright, well, your Daddy and I are going to call it a night. We'll call you before we leave for work in the morning. We love you sweetheart. Remember to stay hydrated!" Leroy said.
"Love you Rach!" Hiram added in the background.
Rachel smiled, "I love you too Daddy, Papa. Sweet dreams tonight."
Hiram smiled through the phone, "Oh don't worry darling, We're going to have wonderful dreams after that performance you just put on out there! Night night!". And with that, her father's hung up.
Shelby hugged Rachel again after the younger brunette put her phone away. "Congratulations Ms. Berry! You now have a one-zero record at the Slams."
Rachel grinned and high-fived her coach before they began to set off towards the locker room. The pair stopped moving when an Australian Open ground staff member trailing them called out to Rachel. "Ms. Berry? Could you please follow me this way? Everyone competing today is being asked to provide urine and blood samples for testing."
Rachel looked at her coach, who shrugged. Shelby spoke as they followed the staff member down the corridor, "It's not out of the ordinary for Grand Slam's to test all competitors on the first two or three days of competition. That way they've got samples from practically everyone that plays this level of tennis."
About an hour and a half later Rachel and Shelby walked out of her media interview and headed towards the tournament masseuse's room. Seven journalists, mostly American, had attended her press conference, and the number was quite frankly higher than what she had expected. The questions had almost all been tennis related, and the interview had barely taken fifteen minutes to be conducted. Shelby had sat quietly in the corner, observing Rachel with watchful eyes. Her only interaction with the press had been to shrug playfully when Rachel was asked whether her famous coach was a slavedriver in training.
Shelby asked how Rachel's body was feeling, and the two women were discussing Rachel's game that day as they walked into the masseuse's room. A loud cheer from the television in the room caught their attention, and Rachel looked up to see that the night session was about to begin on Rod Laver Arena. She smiled as her friend Brittany Pierce raised her hand in acknowledgment of the crowd's applause as she walked out onto the court. Moments later, the TV produced a deafening roar as the spectators rose as one to welcome the tournaments top seed, and Brittany's first round opponent, on to the court. Quinn Fabray looked all business as she entered the arena, her eyes determined even as she smiled at her legions of fans. The crowd continued to cheer as the World No. 1 made her way to her chair, and dropped her kit bag down.
"Brittany has an uphill battle if she's going to win tonight" Shelby commented.
Rachel nodded. Her British friend had really drawn the short end of the stick when the tournament draw was announced. In fact, Rachel had almost felt bad for having the good fortune of being matched up against the relatively unknown Australian Jarmila Gajdosova when Brittany's luck had clearly not done her any favours. That said, Brittany had accepted her fate with her usual sunny smile, and had spent hours on court training with Rachel and analysing videos of Quinn Fabray's play. As she said, if she was going to lose then she was going to go out fighting.
Rachel settled herself on the masseuse's table, her eyes never leaving the TV screen. This would be a good match.
