Hello! First of all, give yourself a pat on the back if you picked up on the Peter Graf angle. Yes, he's my inspiration for Russell Fabray, at least in his tax evading ways. It was a dark time in the life of the actual tennis player, and I thought it was a realistic angle to go with in my story.

Secondly, thank you again to everyone that has favourited/followed either myself or this story. As it stands, A Perfect Match has 174 follows, which is a-mazing! I take great pride in the knowledge that the words I write are enjoyed, and even relished, by many.

As always, I am uber grateful to everyone that has written me a review. Your words of encouragement and even your criticism's are welcome, and help me greatly as I craft my tale. As some of you might know, I don't have a beta, so feel free to point out any typos/grammatical mistakes, and I'll go back and fix them :)

The French Open has begun, and so far the female seeds are falling like flies on a hot summer's day. Should make for an interesting finale to the tournament! Are any of you watching? I'd love to hear your predictions!

And now, without further ado, here's the update. Enjoy!

Monday, June 25, 2012

TAXING TIMES AHEAD FOR RUSSELL FABRAY

By Jacob Ben Israel, Tennis Correspondent, in London

Rachel scrolled through the article on her cell phone, but found that it told her nothing she hadn't already heard either from her coach or fellow players in the locker room. 'Russell flew back home to Miami on Friday night, and immediately consulted with his legal team'… 'Quinn Fabray's father has refused to speak to the press yet, choosing instead to release a brief statement claiming his innocence'… 'In an unprecedented move, the International Tennis Federation permitted the World No. 1 to miss yesterday's pre-tournament press conference to deal with her personal matters'.

Russell Fabray's legal woes had dominated all conversations and newspaper headlines over the past couple of days. Journalists asked other players for their opinion on the subject and sports pundits weighed in on the matter. Rachel had discovered that the locker room wasn't as friendly as everyone had made it out to be, with some women taking obvious delight in the scandal. The young American had noticed that it was mainly the lower-ranked players that were doing the gossiping, while women who had probably crossed paths with Quinn quite a few times were refraining from joining in, and Rachel considered that to be the silver lining to this mess. Of course no one had really come right out and badmouthed the very well-liked top seed, but that hasn't stopped some women from insinuating that there was no way Quinn didn't know what was happening with her money. Rachel had lost count of the number of times she'd literally bit down on her tongue to stop herself from defending the blonde whilst in the locker room. Even though she didn't doubt her fellow American's innocence for a second, the truth was that Rachel hardly knew any more facts that everyone else.

Closing the browser window currently opened to the New York Times' online edition, Rachel checked her text messages again, clicking on the conversation thread between herself and Quinn. The last message in there had been the one she'd sent Quinn a few minutes after Santana had marched out of the Players' Party at The Roof Gardens. The young American had composed, erased, recomposed and re-erased at least a dozen texts before sending one that simply stated 'I'm here, if you need anything at all.' She had stared at the 'Delivered' icon that appeared mere seconds after she sent the message, and obsessed over the 'Read' icon that followed soon after. Since then she had been doing her best not to fixate on why Quinn hadn't replied yet.

Rachel sighed, and locked her phone screen. She stared out the window, not really taking in any details of what she was seeing until the car pulled to a stop outside the Players' entrance at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club.

The driver handed Rachel her kit bag, receiving an absentminded thanks from the player before she took off towards the lockers. Glancing at her wristwatch, the brunette noted that she had twenty-five minutes before she was meant to help Brittany warm-up for her 4 p.m. match, after which she would have a proper practice session with Shelby.

A few fellow players greeted Rachel and Shelby as the two women headed along. The young American was no longer an unknown entity, especially now that she had cracked the top 50. Fellow female players had regularly started introducing themselves to the teenager in the locker room and gym, and even some of the male players had introduced themselves to the brunette. Her circle of acquaintances had widened considerably, and Rachel was hoping that walking into the Players' lounge during a rain delay would be much less awkward than it had been that first time in Paris.

Turning a corner, her attention was immediately drawn to the half dozen television screens on the far wall of the clubhouse's main foyer. Rachel paused in her tracks to quickly survey the live action, and her attention was immediately drawn to Center Court, where Quinn was in the middle of her first-round match against the wildcard Englishwoman Padma Patil. The sound on the TV was muted so Rachel couldn't hear the commentary, but it looked like the blonde was cruising along after winning the first set 6-2. She was currently up 4-0 in the second, and seemed to be on track to an easy two-sets-to-love win.

The camera cut to a mid-shot of Quinn's face, which appeared to be a mask of focus and determination. Still, Rachel didn't have to look hard to realize that there were slight dark circles under the blonde's eyes, and in Rachel's opinion she looked the most exhausted the brunette had ever seen her.

Rachel's gaze lingered on the screen for another few moments before she continued on her walk to the locker room.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

RUSSELL FABRAY INCARCERATED OVER CHARGES OF TAX EVASION

By P. Figgins, Sports Correspondent

Police arrested the father of four-time Grand Slam champion Quinn Fabray on Monday, citing "urgent suspicions of tax evasion" in the management of his daughter's considerable income from match win's and brand endorsements.

The arrest of Russell Fabray comes mere days after about a dozen IRS tax inspectors made a surprise raid on the family mansion in Miami on June 22, seizing a large number of documents. Authorities have not revealed much about what they found, but sources indicate that Russell set up bogus companies in low-tax countries, thereby saving millions in tax payments.

While investigations are continuing, federal authorities insist they have found no cause to issue a warrant for Quinn Fabray as well. The off-court drama did not hinder the World No. 1's defense of her Wimbledon title, with the top seed making easy work of her unheralded British opponent Padma Patil in a routine 6-2, 6-0 first round win on Center Court.

However, the American did decline to discuss the matter in her post-match conference, with a member of the tournaments staff reading a prepared statement before the player entered the conference room.

(Check our website for the video of Quinn Fabray's full post-match conference)

Rachel opened up her laptop, and waited for it to boot up. She looked up in surprise when her Dad set down his plate of breakfast before taking a seat across her.

"Is there a reason why you're letting your eggs and toast cool down?" Hiram asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Rachel gave her father a guilty look, pushing her laptop away and her plate closer, "Sorry Daddy. I got distracted."

Hiram shrugged, lifting his own knife and fork and slicing into the still-steaming pile of bacon on his plate, "An athlete's gotta eat."

His daughter nodded before biting into her toast, the crisp bread making a crunchy sound as she chewed. Hiram swallowed his own mouthful before speaking again, "So, how does this work?" he asked, looking at the rain that spattered against the living room window of their rented apartment.

Rachel sipped her herbal tea, "Well, my match isn't scheduled till 4:30 p.m., and I have a practice court booked for 3. But I've been asked to stay put till tournament organizer's can reshuffle the schedule. Apparently yesterday's rain has thrown things into a bit of disarray."

The downpour had begun in the late afternoon the previous day, causing major disruptions in the schedule. A whole bunch of Round 2 matches had been postponed without a single ball being hit, and many ongoing matches in the top-half of the draw were also interrupted mid-play. Needless to say, the messed up schedule's domino effect had also spilled onto today's matches, which included Rachel's first round fixture. Center Court, with it's relatively new retractable roof, was currently the only play-ready court at Wimbledon.

"Mmm, well, it doesn't look like the rain's going to ease up anytime soon" Hiram pointed out.

"Yeah, that's what I was told over the phone too. But I should still be able to head over to Wimbledon to have a hit on one of the indoor practice court's later today", his daughter agreed. "And Shelby will want me to hit the gym for a while", she added.

Hiram nodded, his eyes glancing down to the newspaper placed beside Rachel's plate, "Any news of your friend?"

Rachel shook her head, trying not to look too miserable. She was really quite worried about Quinn, who had also failed to reply to Rachel's second text congratulating her on her first round win.

"Poor thing" Hiram muttered. "It can't be easy, this whole mess with her father."

Rachel stared at him for a moment, before making up her mind and grabbing her cellphone. Her fingers flew over the touch screen, typing out the words 'Is Quinn alright?', before hitting send.

The door to the apartment opened, and Leroy walked in, carrying a couple of bags and shaking the water out of his hair. "God, it's a deluge out there" he said, closing the door behind him.

"Well, it was your idea to go to the markets in this weather. Let me guess, you were the only one there" Hiram said drily.

"No, I wasn't" Leroy shot back quickly, looking mildly irked but not sounding too convincing.

"Whatever you say, hun" Hiram smirked. "Anyway, now that you're back and Rach's still here, I think it might be a good time to have that talk we were discussing."

"What talk?" Rachel asked, looking back and forth between her parents.

"Can I make myself a coffee first? I'm freezing!" Leroy asked.

A few minutes later, Leroy sat down, placing a steaming hot cup of coffee before him on the table. He reached for Hiram's hand as he addressed his daughter, "Sweetie, your Daddy and I were talking, and we think it's best for us not to handle your finances any longer."

"What?! Why?" Rachel asked, her face a mask of confusion.

Hiram waved his free hand at the newspaper in front of her, shrugging his shoulders as he did. "Oh, c'mon! Like you'd ever do any of that!" Rachel said, her tone disbelieving.

"That's not the point Rach. It'll actually be simpler if you got a sports agent. Someone who you will employ to negotiate your contracts, handle your PR, recommend investments and even file your taxes" Leroy said,

"Ok, fine. I'll hire your PR firm then" Rachel stated. Looking adamant.

"No, you won't" Leroy said, sounding firm. "You are my daughter, our daughter. Our beautiful, talented and now world-famous daughter. And we are your parents, who will always be here to guide you and advise you. But we've decided that it's best to avoid any conflict of interest when it comes to your career."

Hiram piped in "I look at Quinn Fabray, and I can't imagine how I'd feel if it was you going through that. You have to believe that her father probably started out with his heart in the right place, or at least a warped version of the right place, where all he wanted was the best for his daughter. And look what that's done for her. There are companies that specialize in looking after an athlete's off-court needs, and I, we, think you should sign up with one of them."

Rachel didn't like it, but she could see the sense in her parents' reasoning. She nodded her head slowly, "Ok. Do you have any recommendations?"

Leroy smiled at his daughter, "Yes. And I've already taken the liberty of contacting IMG, CAA and Octagon, amongst others, through email. How about we meet with them after your Wimbledon campaign, and see what they have to offer?"

Rachel nodded, "And you'll help me decide?"

"Always" Hiram said, and Leroy nodded in agreement.

Rachel's phone pinged, and she glanced down at the message that popped up on her locked screen.

Santana LopezNo. But she's Quinn freaking Fabray, which means she's tough.

Friday, June 29, 2012

FABRAY TRIAL SET FOR MID-AUGUST

By P. Figgins, Sports Correspondent

Rachel glanced at the title of the article on the back page of The Telegraph, which someone had left lying around on a bench in the locker-room. Grabbing the newspaper, she quickly popped it into the locker bearing her name so she could read it later, before following Shelby to her post-match press conference.

The brunette couldn't help but feel pleased after her second round win, especially since it was her second match in two days. The rain had washed out all of Wednesday's matches on Wimbledon's outside courts, so tournament organizers were currently playing catch-up to get it back on schedule. That had meant that most players from the bottom-half of the draw and a large number from the top-half had to play matches on back-to-back days, an uncommon occurrence at a grand slam. Players like Rachel, whose tournament was supposed to start on the previous Wednesday, would also have to play their third-round fixtures on Saturday, meaning that they would be playing for three straight days. The brunette just hoped she was still alive in the tournament so she could enjoy the traditional day off on the middle Sunday.

The young American checked her phone as she walked behind Shelby, unsurprised to see a few text messages congratulating her on her win. Rachel quickly replied to her father's, before going back to the message inbox and scrolling through the other new messages. Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets when she saw a new text from Quinn, and she hurriedly opened it.

Quinn FabrayHi Rach, sorry for taking so long to reply to both your texts. Santana told me you messaged her asking about me too. I'm ok, all things considered. I keep hoping that all this is just a nightmare and I'll wake up, but yeah. I appreciate your concern, really. Thanks for thinking of me. I'm watching you on TV as I type, and you're killing it on there. I go on soon, and will keep trying to hold up my end of the bargain :)

Rachel was rereading the text when she walked straight into Shelby's back. She looked up to meet the amused gaze of her coach. "You teenagers should come with a warning sign when you're on your phones" the older brunette laughed.

Her young charge looked completed abashed as she apologized, "Sorry, Coach."

Shelby smiled good-naturedly, "No harm, no foul. Shall we?", she asked, indicating at the door marked 'Media Conference Room 3' beside them.

Rachel nodded, and opened the door to enter the room. She stopped short just as she crossed the threshold, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. Shelby came to a stop beside her, and looked just as confused when she saw that there wasn't a single journalist in there. Both women's attention was diverted to a media handler who approached them, looking very apologetic.

"Is there some sort of problem?" Shelby asked.

"Er, no, no problem Ms. Corcoran" the man said in a strong English accent. "All of the journalists are just preoccupied with another match that they deem to believe rather interesting."

"All of them think this other match is interesting?" Shelby asked, her tone incredulous.

"Yes, Ms. Corcoran. I apologize. And to you too, Ms. Berry. This has never happened before, truly. Well played, by the way" he said, addressing Rachel.

Rachel nodded slowly, "So, I don't have to do a post-match interview?" she asked.

"That is correct" the tournament staffer confirmed. "You have fulfilled your media obligations by coming to the conference room as scheduled. It is not your fault that the journalists aren't here to interview you. However, if you do wish to make a statement then I can record anything you want to say on the camera over there" he added, indicating towards a video camera that was pointing at the chair the players sat on during their interviews.

"Oh, no! There's nothing I want to say" Rachel smiled, and the American really was quite happy to not have to sit through a question and answer session right then. It meant she could head straight to the massage table.

Rachel and Shelby thanked the media handler, and were about to leave when the older brunette stopped, "Out of curiosity, which match has every journalist so engrossed?"

"Fabray versus Pierce, on Center Court" the man said. "Our girl has won the first set, and was up two breaks of serve in the second the last time I checked. It looks like Fabray is going home today. Quite an upset if she can pull it off, as you would imagine. And that too, at the hands of one of our own."

Rachel could feel her heart plummet, and she immediately set off for the main foyer. The brunette felt guilty, knowing she should be happy for her old friend, who had in fact asked Rachel for tips on how to beat Quinn just that morning. The teenager had tried to ignore the sense that she was betraying Quinn as she pointed out weaknesses in the World No. 1's game to Brittany. It was a common practice for the two to help each other before matches by sharing intel on opponents, so it wasn't like Rachel had gone out of her way to tell Brittany how to defeat Quinn. So why did she feel like there was a hand squeezing her heart?

She made it to foyer just in time to see Brittany raising her hands in the air to acknowledge the applause of the crowd on Center Court. The television kept cutting between visuals of the crowd on their feet, Ken Tanaka pumping his fist with joy and Brittany savouring the biggest win of her career.

A sudden hush descended on the main foyer of the Wimbledon clubhouse as a burly security guard came around the corner and cleared the way. Seconds later Quinn came into sight, a Wimbledon towel looped around her drooping shoulders and her kit bag slung across her back. The blonde stared at the ground as she walked, her face expressionless.

Rachel watched her, silently willing the World No. 1 to look up and see her. She was left disappointed when Quinn walked up the stairs and out of sight.