Hello readers :) It's time to roll out Chapter 12, which I hope will be to your liking. The story is still building at the agonisingly slow pace at which I am choosing to proceed, but I hope the writing and general plot line is enough to keep you coming back.
Again, thank you to everyone that wrote me a few lines of feedback/inspiration. Your thoughts, comments, ideas and encouragement are much appreciated. Feel free to keep them coming after you've read this update.
Without much further ado, here you go :)
Rachel peered up at the overcast sky from inside the safety of the silver Peugeot 4008, Benjamin Biolay's melancholy voice providing a perfect background score to the greyness of the world outside. The squeaking of the car's windscreen wipers accompanied his voice as the SUV slow progressed along the Avenue de la Porte d'Auteuil, drawing interested stares from the umbrella-toting and raincoat-wearing people on the street who had noticed the official Roland Garros emblem it bore, and correctly assumed that it was shuttling a player or tournament official to the year's second major.
"Play still hasn't resumed, obviously" Shelby stated, staring down at the mobile phone in her hands. "But the good news is, it looks like the rain should pass in about an hour."
Rachel 'hmm-ed' as the car turned into the specially marked road that led to the back of the clubhouse at Stade Roland Garros. The driver dropped the player and her coach off at the covered players' entrance, and acknowledged Rachel's thanks with a smile and a nod of his head before sitting back in the car and taking off again.
The duo entered the building, where they were greeted by a tournament official who explained in heavily accented French that Rachel's game, which was scheduled to be the second match on Court 1, would only take place after the match that was currently in progress ended. Given that said match was a men's third round fixture whose first set had only been decided after a long tiebreak, and that was currently tied at two-all in the second, Rachel had a feeling that she would be waiting for a couple of hours at the very least. The official then kindly pointed out that the Players' Lounge was fitted out with things to keep players and their teams entertained in times like these, the on-site Players' Salon was open if they felt like a haircut, blow-dry or mani-pedi, and the cafeteria offered a range of food choices catering to herbivores, carnivores, celiacs and vegans. Once again, the two brunettes said their thanks and continued forward.
"So, what do you feel like doing?" Shelby asked, turning to her young charge.
Rachel considered her options for a moment, "Um, I think I'm just gonna head to the Players' Lounge and read, if that's alright. I might grab a bite when play resumes… well, that depends on when play resumes, but you know what I mean", she said, rolling her eyes at herself. "What about you?"
"I might go get a manicure", Shelby stated. "Did you want me to take your bags to the locker room before I do?"
Rachel shook her head, "Nah, I got it."
Shelby nodded, "Ok. If I'm not back by the time you're heading to the cafeteria then give me a call when you're on your way and I'll see you there." And with that, the coach took off in the direction of the salon.
Rachel walked into the Players' Lounge a quarter of an hour later, armed with her Kindle. As expected, the place was bustling. Players of all nationalities were gathered in the large room, some playing video games on the consoles hooked up to the many wall-mounted television sets, others curled up on bean bags, completely engrossed in books of varying languages, a few participating in what seemed to be a highly competitive game of pool and yet others sitting in small groups and chatting away.
Many of the men and women in the Players' Lounge looked up when Rachel entered the room, and for a moment she felt like a deer in headlights. Being relatively new to the tour, and having played only a handful of Premier-level tournaments in that period, the brunette knew very few people on tour. Despite the fact that everyone she had met so far had been nothing but polite, Rachel still felt like an outsider looking in on situations like the one she was in presently.
The gathered crowd looked away, some throwing smiles and nods Rachel's way before doing so, and the brunette breathed easy again. However, there was barely any room to sit by herself, and the young player still felt too shy to just go plop herself down next to someone else, so Rachel seriously began to consider joining Shelby at the salon. The idea left her head when her eyes connected with twinkling hazel ones that were connected to the face of Quinn Fabray. When the World No. 1 beckoned Rachel over, she didn't hesitate to walk to her.
"Rachel", Quinn said with a laugh, "quit looking like you've walked into the seventh circle of Dante's Inferno!"
The brunette blushed, and Quinn added in a kinder voice, "Would you like to sit with us?" When Rachel nodded, Quinn moved closer to the woman on her right, thereby making space for Rachel to join them on the couch. Once everyone was seated, Quinn made the introductions, "Rachel, this is Marley. Marley, Rachel."
"Pleased to meet you, Rachel", Marley said, reaching a hand out towards the shorter brunette.
Rachel shook the proffered hand, "Likewise."
Both Quinn and Marley were in their tennis kits with jackets on, but the difference was that while Quinn's skirt was covered in splotches of red clay, Marley's was pristine. Quinn must have been able to see her mind at work, because she stated, "I'm waiting for my match on Philipe Chatrier to resume after the rain delay, and Marley's game starts right after mine."
"Quinn's literally two points away from winning" Marley threw in, which to Rachel explained why she was dressed to go on court. "What time's your game?"
"It's the second match on Court 1" answered Rachel. "But I don't think it'll start for a while yet, seeing how the first set between Azimio and Goffin took close to ninety minutes, and they were still early in the second when it started to rain."
The two women sympathized with her, "Mmm, rain delays suck" Marley stated. "But they'll get easier to get through when you meet more people on tour" she smiled kindly.
"Don't think people haven't noticed you already though" Quinn smiled. "Your second rounder against Luiz was inspired. You made a clay-court specialist and one of the tournament favourites look like a cow on ice!" Beside her, Marley nodded her head vigorously.
Rachel couldn't help but grin at their enthusiasm, "Well, I did have a great training block in Miami a couple of months ago."
"Yeah, I am a great teacher" Quinn laughed back. "Seriously though, well done. Have you always been this good on clay?"
"I don't know?" Rachel answered, seeming to question herself. "I mean, I had a good run on the green clay back home last month, but I lost, badly, in the second round in Saint Gaudens. Believe me, nothing was working for me in that match. Shelby and I came here straight after, and I've been putting in a lot of time on the practice courts. But even I was surprised by how well everything came together in that last match."
Almost as if to underline Quinn's praise, a medium-built but well-toned Asian woman stopped by the trio. "Hey Quinn, Marley." The two women returned the greeting, before she locked her gaze on Rachel, "Nice to finally meet you in person, Berry. You played well on Wednesday. Good job."
Rachel stuttered out her thanks, ecstatic that someone that she'd never actually met before, and who happened to be a top twenty player, was congratulating her. Lily Chan was the highest ranked Asian woman in the world at the moment, and Rachel's projected fourth round opponent if both of them got through their matches today.
As if reading Rachel's thoughts, Lily smirked, "I'll be waiting across the net in two days", and with that, she mock saluted the trio and trotted away.
"Mmm, well Rachel, if you figure out how you managed to tame the beast that is clay, maybe share some tips with me? Quinn has tried to help me, and failed" Marley stated, her tone self-deprecating.
Quinn lightly smacked her arm, "Quit it, Rose. You're still alive in the tournament."
"Just barely" Marley said, with a wry grin. She looked at Rachel, "I actually scraped by after winning less points than my opponent in the last match. Clay is still a mystery to me. Thankfully the grass court season will be here soon."
Rachel knew that the World No. 5 wasn't lying about her struggles on the red surface. She had watched Marley lose both her rubbers in the Fed Cup semis against Italy, and it was no secret that the US had only won because Quinn had won both her matches while Stephens and Bells had combined brilliantly to take the doubles. The US was set to play France in the finals at the end of the year, and it was common knowledge that the French would choose to play on clay when the time came to announce their pick for location and surface. Journalists were blatantly stating that Rose's odds of making the trip weren't favourable.
"On the bright side" Marley threw in cheerfully, "I've already bettered my second round loss at last year's French, so I won't be dropping any ranking points."
Quinn laughed out loud, "That's true. I need to make it to the semis. Defending points can get stressful. You'll see what I mean next year" she finished, aiming her words at Rachel.
The brunette was distracted when the telecast of the French Open (highlights from earlier in the week were playing during the rain delay) paused for a commercial break, and Santana Lopez's face took over the screen. Rachel watched her sell a sugar-laden cola that she highly doubted any professional tennis player would actually drink on a regular basis, and raised her eyebrows when the next commercial also featured the Spaniard, this time selling a ridiculously expensive Swiss watch.
"She's everywhere, isn't she?" Marley said, eyes on the television screen.
Rachel saw Quinn nod out of her peripheral vision, "Yup. That's what happens when you win two back-to-back titles. They love her here."
Santana's face was all over Paris – in newspapers, on the sides of buses, on every second billboard, on every second television commercial that played. You couldn't help but spot her everywhere you went. Rachel knew Quinn wasn't lying when she said the Parisians loved her. Santana had exploded onto the tennis world after winning the French Open on her first try, and as things stood, she enjoyed a 16-0 record at the tournament. She was already a legend in this city.
"It's still weird to see her smiling so much" Marley said, causing Quinn to bark out a laugh. "Seems more like a dark threat. But this watch, or else…"
"I'll make sure to tell her you think that" the blonde giggled, and Rachel couldn't help but smile at the amusement in her voice. "She'll love that" Quinn added, still chuckling.
The French Open telecast resumed, this time showing live footage of covered courts and tournament staff staring up at the sky, intercut with people in the stadiums starting to fold their umbrellas. Marley's phone buzzed, "That's my cue! Finish that game quickly Fabray, and don't dilly-dally with the on court interview" she said, rising. Quinn shook her head at the taller brunette, but didn't actually look put out. "Good luck Rachel. I'll see you around."
Quinn and Rachel wished Marley good luck for her own match, which received a "Thanks, I'll need it!" from the now standing woman, before she marched off in the direction of the women's locker rooms.
"So," the blonde said, moving to take over the spot Marley recently-vacated on the end of the leather couch, and twisting her body to face Rachel, "how have you been?"
"Good" Rachel smiled, "you?"
"Busy" Quinn answered honestly, "The buildup to the French Open is always a busy time with back-to-back tournaments. Plus there's even more press than usual, since sponsors want to take advantage of the fact that the tour is in Europe, where a lot of them actually have head offices."
"Rich people problems, then?" Rachel smirked, causing Quinn to look shocked for a second before her own face broke out into a grin.
"Cheeky" she said, waggling a finger at Rachel.
"I'm just kidding" Rachel clarified, although she knew Quinn hadn't taken her seriously. "Honestly, I wouldn't know about the press. My only sponsor at the moment is Babolat."
"But you wear Nike kits, right?" Quinn asked, her brow furrowed in memory.
Rachel nodded, "Yes, but that's sort've a blanket deal that Nike has with the USTA. Any youngsters that work with the USTA get Nike kits through their junior careers, and for the first year after turning professional."
"What happens in year two?" the blonde queried, looking interested.
Rachel shrugged, "You're on your own, unless you've managed to snag an independent deal. Weren't you with the USTA?"
"Nope, not with player development. My father thought it would be better for me to hone my skills away from the national body. So I trained at the McKinley Academy in Miami. And I was in Barcelona for two years, at the Vicario Club de Tennis" Quinn supplied. "My dad worked out a deal with Nike when I was fifteen. He renegotiated it three years ago" she added, as if suddenly remembering what had prompted the brief trip down memory lane.
"Interesting" Rachel said. "My fathers were considering going the same route, tennis wise. But then they met with reps from the USTA, who convinced them that I'd be in safe hands with them. And I trusted that my parents knew what was best for me."
"Fathers?" Quinn questioned. "Like, dad and step-dad?"
"Like Daddy and Papa" Rachel clarified, her expression and tone leaving no room for confusion.
Quinn nodded, "Finn mentioned having met you and your two dad's, and I wasn't sure he'd read the situation correctly. Clearly I need to give him more credit" she smiled.
Rachel knew she was referring to their happenstance meeting in New York the previous month. The brunette had been surprised, and secretly slightly thrilled, to see her picture in print the next morning. The tabloid section of her morning paper had carried a poor-quality picture of Finn dining with her family at Bloomingdales, the photograph undoubtedly having been taken from the cellphone of someone at Flip. A small blurb under the picture speculated about what the almighty Finn Hudson was doing dining with 'the up and coming tennis starlet Rachel Berry', and had gone so far as to wonder what 'Finn's famous tennis star girlfriend feels about him fraternizing with a fellow competitor while the World No. 1 is away slogging it out at tournaments across Europe'. The feeling of thrill had quickly left Rachel's body as she read the words, but on the up side, the number of people following her on Instagram had seemingly quadrupled in a matter of hours.
"Yeah, he charmed the socks off my fathers" Rachel said.
Television coverage showed that covers were starting to come off the courts, so the women weren't surprised when a tournament official interrupted them moments later to tell Quinn that play would resume in half an hour. The blonde thanked him, before turning to Rachel, "Duty calls. It was lovely to see you again Rachel. Good luck for the rest of the tournament."
"Good luck to you too Quinn. Go kick ass" she smiled.
Quinn rose, and it was only then that Rachel noticed that she had been sitting on what seemed to be a leather journal that she was now grasping in her right hand, "Have fun with whatever's on that Kindle."
And with that, away she went. Rachel watched her until she was out of sight, noticing other people in the room doing the same. You could sense the shift in the room as people stopped what they were doing to track the world's top tennis player, a position coveted by every single athlete gathered in the room. A few of them wished Quinn good luck as she strode towards the exit, and Rachel pictured her smiling softly as she thanked them and nodded her head.
With a straight back and her head held high, Quinn walked out of the room without a backwards glance.
