Hello everyone. First of all, I'm so sorry I couldn't update as scheduled last week. Life has been very busy of late, and I honestly didn't find the time to sit down and write the way I like to. I'm one of those people that prefers to sit down and write, write, write in one go, or at least do whole scenes in one sitting. That was impossible these last ten days. Every time I sat down to work on the update, something would come up. There were times I wrote whole paragraphs, only to delete them when I sat down to read through them again. This next chapter, which is two scenes, was written over two days. I wrote scene two last night, and have since re-read the chapter just once. So please, let me know what typos and grammatical errors managed to get past me, and I'll correct them stat.
Thank you to everyone that has written me feedback and reviews, asked me questions and made observations. They help with my writing, and sometimes even guide my chain of thought when it comes to A Perfect Match. And as usual, thank you to all the new folks that have followed/favourited this story or myself. It's nice to see those numbers going up :) The rest of you can feel free to click those buttons too ;)
So, this is the update for this week. I hope to be back to my Thursday/Friday updates next week. Just know I'm not going to abandon this story, even if there will be an odd week or two without updates. Abandoned stories/stories on "sabbaticals" are one of my pet peeves, and I don't plan on going down that route. Which is also why I refuse to work on more than one story at a time!
OK, enough rambling! Time to update! Happy reading ya'll!
Rachel unzipped her jacket then sat down to take a few gulps of her two drinks. There was a strong breeze running through the Arthur Ashe Stadium that night, so the brunette had opted to keep the extra layer on during her warm-up.
The young American took a big swig from her bottle of Gatorade; the squeezy bottle was fluorescent yellow, branded with the sports drinks makers logo and hard to miss. Jessie had handed it to her along with a few other bottles in equally eye-catching colours the day Rachel had begun practicing at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, saying her new sponsor had requested that she use the bottles on court during matches at the year's final Slam.
The teenager placed the bottle back down on the table beside her, glancing at the crowd as she did so. The Arthur Ashe Stadium was the largest tennis-specific arena in the world, and from Rachel's current vantage point, it was massive. She looked around, her eyes skimming over people in the audience doing mundane things like munching on hot dogs and sipping on drinks while they waited for play to start. There were dozens of Star Spangled Banners all around the stadium, which served to remind Rachel of who she was up against that night.
Turning her head just enough, she observed Jane Hayward out of the corner of her eye. The sixteen-year-old was glancing around the stadium in wonder, an expression of awe clear on her features. Rachel empathized with the wild card recipient; playing against a much higher ranked opponent in front of a packed house in the world's largest tennis arena, which just so happens to be in your own country, was a hard task. The fact that the match had been scheduled in the much-touted prime time slot would make the task all the more daunting. Jane was probably even more nervous than Rachel was when stepping onto the hallowed turf of Wimbledon's Center Court for the first time.
Rachel glanced at one of the court clocks, which read 11:05. That was one of the downsides of playing the second match of the night session – the matches often went on well past midnight, especially if the first match was a good one. Tonight's seven o'clock fixture had pitted the men's top seed Cooper Anderson against the American World No. 78 Matt Rutherford, and the homegrown talent had given the higher ranked player a run for his money before losing in five sets. Rachel had been surprised when her opening match was scheduled as the second match of the opening day's night session, which was a slot that usually went to players ranked higher than herself, but Jessie had pointed out that television sponsors would be happy to see the championships pitting two rising American talents against each other on the biggest court of them all.
The umpire announced that they were ready to start so Rachel stood up and walked to her end to receive serve, listening to the crowd applauding both herself and Jane as she made the short trek. The fact that she was playing a fellow American meant that the nonpartisan crowd would cheer for both women, but Rachel was confident her experience playing big matches over the period of the last seven months gave her the edge tonight.
Which is why she didn't know what had hit her when she found herself trailing 0-4 just over seventeen minutes later. She glanced up at her box, where her support team was seated. Shelby was watching her, and nodded her head when she caught Rachel's eye. The young brunette knew what her coach was saying; 'Don't panic. Keep your head, think about your shots, stay focused.' Her Daddy, who always got more nervous about Rachel's matches than the teenager herself, seemed to have left the box. She could picture him pacing up and down just outside the double doors leading to the seats, watching the television screens with his fingers crossed. Her Papa was looking right at her, attempting to give her a reassuring smile. And Jessie was staring down in the direction of his lap, probably texting someone. Sometimes Rachel swore that the man's cellphone's, yes, plural, were an extension of his actual hands.
Rachel crouched down, ready to receive serve. So far Jane had held serve twice, and broken Rachel twice, and the momentum was undeniably with the younger girl. She was walking around with a bounce in her step, pumping her fist in the direction of her own box after coming up trumps at the end of the longer rallies and hitting the ball ridiculously hard for outright winners that her higher ranked opponent couldn't get a racket too. Rachel watched her hop up and down in place, almost moving at the same pace as the ball she was bouncing. 'Try and look for a pattern, figure out the play before the ball's even come your way,' she heard Shelby's voice say in her head, and focused on Jane's hand, which was in the motion of tossing the ball up.
'Has she been tossing the ball that high all night?' Rachel found herself wondering a split second before a powerful flat serve down the T came her way. Fortunately for the World No. 17 the ball clipped the net and fell back onto Jane's side of the court. She watched Jane line up for her second serve, which came with a noticeably lower ball toss that was also thrown up just that little bit in front of the baseline; another fact that Rachel filed away to memory. This one was a kick serve that went out wide to Rachel's forehand at a reasonable 90 miles per hour, and she was easily able to get it into play before approaching the net to hit a volley winner a few shots in to the rally. When Jane threw the ball high up again at 0-30, Rachel knew to expect a flat serve down the middle, and hit a cracking return winner to give herself three break points. She looked across the net with determination, knowing the 16-year-old would be feeling a lot of pressure at that moment, and seconds later Rachel was on the board, now trailing 1-4.
She sat down at the change of ends, ate the last bite of a banana she'd slowly been munching on, and looked up at her box again after getting rid of the skin. Shelby was looking at her and Rachel took a brief moment to appreciate how her coach always managed to be encouraging and supportive in a match, even when she couldn't actually say anything to her charge. The former player was nodding again, and this time Rachel knew it was because she was on the right track. At least when it came to receiving serve. Now all Rachel had to do was figure out how to hold her own damn serve!
The brunette glanced around, inwardly groaning because the heavy breeze, her tormentor tonight, hadn't died down at all. The young American had never played in conditions that were this windy before, and so far, her ball tosses had been absolutely appalling. The light balls were moving around in the fierce gust, not going where they normally would, and as a consequence, Rachel was having to improvise her serves mere milliseconds before the ball met her racket.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. 'Think,' she willed herself, before opening her eyes and staring straight ahead of her at a couple of fans that were holding up a large American flag. Suddenly, Rachel noticed the way the flag was fluttering and a light bulb went off in her head. Glancing around at the other flags dispersed around the stadium was enough to confirm her theory and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, happy with her findings.
When Rachel walked to the baseline to serve, she knew she would be serving into a consistent wind that appeared to be blowing South to North, at least for the moment. She had run through everything her junior coaches, her mentors at the USTA and Shelby had taught her about playing in windy conditions, and she was damned if she was going to walk out of the Arthur Ashe Stadium without at least putting up a decent fight.
Seventy-six minutes later, the few dozen people that had stayed to watch the end of the match applauded Rachel and her vanquished opponent as they exited the court at almost one in the morning. The World No. 17 had put on a master class in how to play in less-than-desirable windy conditions – she'd tossed the ball lower than usual, giving it less room to move around. She'd hit fast, flat serves when she had the wind at her back. She'd kept her eyes on the ball the whole time it was in play, watching it come on to her racket, and tracking it as it zoomed off in the opposite direction again. She'd chipped the ball over Jane so she was far behind the baseline, then hit unreachable drop shots into the wind.
Rachel took in the sight of Jane's slumped shoulders on the walk back to the locker rooms, and would be lying if she said she didn't feel sorry for the girl. The sixteen-year-old probably thought this was going to be her night, especially after the cracking start she'd had. Maybe she had even thought ahead, and imagined what she would have said in the post match press conference. God knows Rachel had done exactly that during her match against Quinn at Roland Garros.
Tennis was brutal. So yes, Rachel sympathized with young Jane Hayward. But no way in hell was she ever going to voluntarily swap places with anyone she got the better of on court.
Rachel covered a wide yawn with the back of her hand, glancing around the player's cafeteria. The brunette was exhausted; it was four in the morning by the time she'd gotten home after her post-match cool down, press conference and massage, and she was back on court for a scheduled practice session at 1 p.m. Fortunately for her Shelby had been sympathetic, so they'd only had a very light hit, the purpose of which was mainly to keep Rachel limber for her second round match the next day.
"What time did Jesse say he'd be here?" Shelby asked, taking a sip of her lemonade.
"2:30," Rachel answered, clearly not pleased that her agent was already running twenty minutes late.
"Yeah, I'm starting to think he has punctuality issues. He was late for our date too." Shelby said, her tone nonchalant.
Rachel was about to yawn again but the shock of what she'd just heard temporarily chased the drowsiness away, "You and Jesse went on a date?," she asked, eyes wide.
Shelby shrugged, "Yeah, the night of the WTA's pre-tournament party."
The older brunette seemed pretty blasé about the whole thing, so Rachel decided to tone down her own reaction a little bit. After all, Shelby and Jesse were both adults. Even if one was obviously more of an adult than the other. "How was the date?"
"It was alright," Shelby answered, before looking contemplative, "I'm not sure I'd do it again though."
"Because you're-," Rachel started, then considered her choice of words and decided some rephrasing was necessary, "Uh, because he's so much younger than you?"
Shelby let out an amused "Ha!," then maintained eye contact with Rachel as she took another sip of her drink before answering, "I'll have you know, toy boy's are all the rage these days." She smiled when Rachel blushed, an apologetic look on the younger brunette's features, "We actually had a great time, to be honest. He's a great conversationalist, especially when he talks about things besides himself."
"So you wouldn't mind going on another date with him?" Rachel asked, receiving a noncommittal shrug from her coach, which prompted her ask, "Do you think he isn't interested in another date?"
The veteran player shook her head, "No, quite the opposite really. He texted me the next morning asking if I was interested in seeing him outside of a professional setting again." Rachel frowned, not understanding what the problem was if both Shelby and Jesse were interested in a second date. Her coach continued, "I just don't see the point in continuing to date him if this…whatever this is, will end the moment you and I are back on the road again."
Realization dawned on Rachel, "So you'd like to be in a relationship with someone."
"Yes," Shelby agreed, "which is easier said than done when you're on the road for nine months of the year."
Rachel's mind had just flashed back to the conversation she'd had with her Papa about Santana and Brittany's relationship when Jesse half-jogged into the room and approached their table, "I'm so sorry I'm late, ladies," he apologized. "I just had some damage control, well, not really damage control, more like, news-shaping, to do."
"News-shaping?" Shelby asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes, news-shaping" Jesse said again. "In fact, let me save you the trouble of having to read a print of today's biggest sports-related news; Finn Hudson and Marley Rose are America's new favourite athletic-couple.
For the second time in the space of mere minutes, Rachel felt her exhaustion leave her body, "What? When did that happen?"
"In London, apparently. When Hudson was there to cheer on Fabray at the Olympics. So for the next few days news feeds will be inundated with articles about how Rose has stolen Hudson from her fellow-star Fabray, how the two ladies are at war over this betrayal, how Hudson felt like Fabray had shut him out during her recent Daddy-related woes, etcetera, etcetera. Oh, and don't even get me started on the media circus that will surround the next matchup between Fabray and Rose. I'll bet you anything that sponsors are hoping the two make it to the finals of the US Open," Jesse said, grinning.
"Ok, first of all, Marley and Quinn are in the same half, so they would meet in the semis, not the finals," Rachel stated, earning an annoyed huff from her agent. "And secondly, Quinn and Finn were never dating."
"Oh, I know that," Jesse agreed, "but no one believes that's true. Hell, even Hudson and Fabray stopped denying it in the press after the hundredth time someone wrote an article about their relationship. Hence why Hudson dating Marley is big news. He's going to be in her box for her opening game today. Which I actually need to go watch soon."
Rachel knew that Marley was one of Jesse's other clients, so she wasn't surprised that her agent would be watching the World No. 4 play her opening match. She half-listened to Shelby comment on the press' overzealous quest for gossip as she quickly typed out a text to Quinn, 'So I'm guessing you're aware that Finn is dating Marley, and the news is about to change the world as we know it? :p'. Hitting send, she returned her attention to Jesse, "So, what did you want to see me for?"
"Well, I was looking at your Instagram account last night, and you have something like one hundred and thirty thousand followers, which, you know, isn't terrible. But we need to get that number up," he said.
"Why, exactly?" Rachel asked. She didn't know what to expect when Jesse said had asked to have a quick word with her after her practice session, but this was definitely not what she expected the topic of conversation to be.
"Because popularity with fans equals popularity with sponsors equals more endorsements for you," Jesse said, making it sound as if it was obvious.
Rachel's phone buzzed, and she looked down at the phone to see two replies from Quinn. She opened the thread.
Quinn Fabray – Yes. But on the bright side, I get to spend more time with my favourite people, the paparazzi. I can hardly wait for today's post-match conference.
Quinn Fabray – Seriously though, has the story already broken? Couldn't they have picked a day I didn't have a match on to go to press with it?
Rachel looked up at Jesse, realizing that she couldn't actually remember much of what he'd said about why she needed to get more followers on Instagram. "Right, so, Jesse, I was wondering, has the press already gotten a hold of the story about Finn and Marley?"
"Uh yeah, which is why I was news-shaping, that is, figuring out the best way to spin it for now," he said.
"Why today, though? I mean, Marley has a game starting soon. Wouldn't she rather avoid the distraction?" Shelby asked, saving Rachel the trouble.
"Someone spotted them when they were out on a date last night. The press has pictures of them kissing," Jesse said, before needlessly adding, "which is something people sometimes do on dates. Maybe not first ones, but maybe on second ones?"
Shelby looked as amused as Rachel felt at Jesse's words, and Rachel allowed whatever was transpiring between her coach and agent to play out as she quickly typed out a reply to Quinn, 'They were out on a date last night, Sir! The press got pictures, Sir! I think it was unavoidable, Sir!' She hit send, just as Jesse was turning back to face her.
"So, as I was saying Rachel, it would be good to post a few more pictures on Instagram, you know, interact with fans a little more. If you don't want to do it yourself then I can take control of your account. Or the team at IMG can create a new public Instagram account for you and handle the whole shebang."
"No thank you," Rachel said quickly, "I'll take more pictures. How many are we talking? A week, I mean."
"Not a lot. Two, maybe? Maybe more during the Slams? It's just to let a little bit of your personality show through," he replied.
Rachel nodded. She didn't relish the idea of going out of her way to do something just to make herself more attractive to sponsors, but she also knew that Jesse, as her agent, was right. This was her career, after all, from which she made a living. And there was nothing wrong with making a little extra money from associating herself with brands and companies that she genuinely believed in. After all, Jesse gave her the final say on which endorsements to green light and didn't push her to sign any deals she didn't want to. Like the French skincare brand that had offered her big money to endorse a line of products that she'd realized were tested on animals.
"Ok," Rachel agreed, "Is that all?"
Jesse shook his head, "I also want to set up a Facebook fan page for you, which my team at IMG will handle. It won't be linked to your personal account, so don't worry. Speaking of your personal account, you need to change your name on there unless you want a hundred friend requests everyday for the rest of your life."
Rachel nodded, that was something she'd already thought of and had been meaning to change. "And," Jesse continued, "I think you should set up a Twitter account."
The young brunette opened her mouth to protest, but Jesse held up a hand, "Twitter is where everything is at these days. It's the only other thing you really need besides the Instagram account."
Rachel's phone buzzed, "Will I get to write the tweets myself?" she asked, unlocking her phone.
"Yeah, if that's what you want, sure, you can write all your own tweets. I will ask you to run them by me before you post them though. I've seen too many intelligent people put up too many stupid things on there. And you can't take things back once you hit send in the cyber world."
Rachel glanced down at the message on her screen.
Quinn Fabray – Haha! You're such a dork! Well, no one's said anything in the locker room yet, and I haven't received any sympathetic stares either. So I guess the fire-free smoke hasn't started to conjure up distorted signals yet. Winning!
"Ok, I can live with that" Rachel agreed, locking her phone screen. "Is that all?"
Jesse nodded, "Yeah. I still have about ten minutes till I need to leave for Marley's game though. Did you ladies want something to drink? I'm going get a coffee."
"I can do a coffee," Shelby said, earning her a smile from what in Rachel's eyes looked like a pretty smitten Jesse.
The brunette shook her own head, standing up, "No, I'm going to get going. Thanks for your advice Jesse," she said, before looking at Shelby, "and I'll see you at dinner tonight, right? Daddy's looking forward to feeding you."
"And I can't wait to try his famous roast" Shelby nodded.
Rachel bade the two members of her team goodbye, before walking from the player's cafeteria, through the player's lounge and into the women's locker rooms, exchanging greetings with people she knew along the way. The locker room was buzzing with activity, which was expected since it was just the second day of the fortnight-long tournament. Still, it didn't take Rachel very long to spot Quinn Fabray standing near the lockers. The blonde was clad in a sleeveless black Nike dress and black Nike shoes, and was just putting on her visor-cap without the aid of a mirror when Rachel tapped her on the shoulder.
"Need some help with that?" Rachel asked, earning a smile from the World No. 1, who wordlessly let her hands drop so her friend could adjust the Velcro strap on the back of her head. "Is that too tight?" Rachel asked.
"No, it's good" Quinn answered, turning to face the brunette. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, eyes twinkling, "The last I checked, you won your first round match last night."
Rachel felt herself blushing under the blonde's scrutiny, "I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You know, with…" she said, gesturing vaguely.
"God, you're just as bad as Marley," Quinn laughed, "she just left for her match. But yes, I'm fine. A little annoyed at Finn, but fine."
"What'd Finn do?" Rachel asked.
Quinn lowered her voice, "He called me this morning to tell me some photographers had caught him and Marley out on their date. I didn't even know they were dating! I mean, the sparks were obvious in London, but I didn't realize either of them had acted on it."
"So you were mad because he didn't tell you?" Rachel asked.
"Oh, no, I'm really happy for them. It's just that Finn sometimes has a knight in shining armour complex, which makes him do idiotic things like tell me he's happy to look like the bad guy when the story breaks. Which makes no sense. He said he'd take the heat, since I'd already had a rough time in the press thanks to Dad. And that's why I'm so mad! There's nothing to take the heat for! It's not our fault those darned so-called journalists didn't want to believe us when we said we weren't dating!"
"Yeah, that doesn't make sense" Rachel said, trying to follow the offensive guard's line of reasoning. "Was he going to say he cheated on you?"
"I don't actually think he had any fully formed plans besides walking into a room full of reporters and saying it's all his fault" Quinn answered, rolling her eyes. "He's going to be in Marley's box today, so I expect the story to break any minute now. Thankfully I should be on court by the time people catch on."
Rachel grinned, then stifled a yawn that had snuck up on her. "I saw that" Quinn said, her expression as stern as her tone. "You need to go home and get some rest. What time's your match tomorrow?"
"Three in the afternoon" Rachel said.
"Ok" Quinn nodded, "if all goes to plan then I'll be here for a hit at one. How about I stop by in the locker room to see you before?"
"Sir, yes Sir!" Rachel said, earning herself a slap on the arm from the blonde. "I'm going to watch your match when I get home."
"I'll do my best to impress then" Quinn smiled, before happily accepting the parting hug she received from the brunette.
"Good luck Quinn. Go knock 'em dead" Rachel said, giving the World No. 1 another lingering smile before turning and leaving.
