Page 19 of Off Court Fix

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“Oh great, hi, Crosby.” It’s Angela, one of the Tennis Association organizers, who finds me as I’m about to ask the guy behind the counter if it’s possible for him to spike my frozen lemonade. “We’ll need you today.”

“Excuse me?”

Angela points to the officials’ lounge. “Now.We’ll need you now.”

“I’m an alternate.”

I’ve been an alternate a dozen times before, and it would be just my luck to be callednowwhen I’m meant to referee a women’s semi and not the two times I’ve been an alternate for a men’s finals.

“Yes, well, today you’re alternating.” Angela pushes firmly on my back. “Just got word that Virginia has the stomach bug. You didn’t eat, did you?” She scans the sea of food carts flanking us.

“I—”

“Let’s go. We’re about fifteen minutes out.”

We hurry through crowds of people making their way into the stadium. I clear my throat, embarrassed that I need to ask who will be playing—but I don’t pay attention to the women’s tournament. And I made it a solid point not to this time because I didn’t want to get a glimpse of Maxine on tournament grounds and find myself in a wad of trouble. Out of sight, out of mind seemed like the way to go, I decided.

Angela presses a hand to the earpiece she wears. “We should hurry. Draper and Fradovic are leaving their locker rooms.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Draper?” I ask, and I think Angela ignores me as we approach the officials’ lounge.

I’m thankful I decided to wear contacts today—because honestly, it’s too damn hot to have my glasses sticking to my face, but more importantly, I won’t get any comments from the crowd about my eyesight when they disagree with a call.

But screw them if they did anyway. Any court I preside over ismycourt.

Angela tells me I have ninety seconds to dump my lemonade and use the bathroom. I duck inside and splash water on my face and try to smooth my hair down. When I enter the hall, I’m nearly struck by a bright red racket bag hanging on the shoulders of Maxine Draper.

She turns, about to apologize, but her mouth hangs open with only silence.

I clear my throat. “Ms. Draper.”

Maxine’s eyes dart from side to side down the hallway as if she’s waiting for something, a camera crew to jump out and tell her she’s been heinously pranked.

“You...” She gives my uniform one long up-down. “Oh, wait a second—”

But there’s no time to wait because Victoria Fradovic comes barreling down the hall.

She looks at me with confusion. “I thought we had Virginia in the chair today. What happened to her?”

Given that I can practically feel Maxine’s eyes burrowing a hole in my head, I gather she has more questions than that. Many more.

“Bit of a stomach bug, I’m afraid. Crosby King.” I offer my hand to Victoria first. She shakes it before I move to Maxine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She stares at my hand, and from the corner of my eye, I notice Victoria’s brow furrow in question. I nudge it closer and offer her a smile, which becomes hard to keep on my face when Maxine takes my hand and squeezes it as hard as she might grip her racket.

A tournament official appears at the end of the tunnel, signaling us.

“Ladies.” I motion to the court entrance. “Let’s have a good, clean match today, yes? Best of luck to both of you.”

By rank, Victoria enters first, and I’m about to speak to Maxine—the last private words we can share—but she shakes her head and follows, leaving me to wonder how objective I can be considering my eyes immediately go to her ass.

* * *

“First serve, Ms. Fradovic.”

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