Page 40 of Carrie Soto Is Back

“Yeah, he’s my favorite.”

“Of course he is,” Bowe says.

“Is this really why you called?” I ask. “To haveERnarrated to you?”

“No,” he says. “I want to know if we’re doing this thing. Gwen said you weren’t fully on board with the idea.”

“I just said I wanted to think about it.”

“Well, what is there to think about?”

“I don’t know, Bowe. That’s why I need time.”

“You have tothink aboutwhat tothink about?”

“I’m trying to be thoughtful about everything I’m doing over the next few months.”

“Look,” he says. “This is a good idea. We can both help each other a lot. You need somebody who can help you get back in fighting shape. I need someone to help me…”

“Remember how to win a match?” I ask.

Bowe is silent for a moment, and then he says, “You are not as charming as you think you are.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one people are supposed to find charming.”

“A lot of peopledofind me charming.”

“How nice for them.”

“I remember this about you––every sentence that comes out of your mouth is like a razor blade.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s why you slept with me and never called me again.”

He laughs. “Bullshit.”

“It’s what happened.”

“It is not. I might have spent a big portion of the eighties drunk and confused about what tournament I was at, but let me make one thing perfectly clear, Soto. Before you left my hotel in Madrid, I said, ‘I’ll call you.’ And you said, ‘This can just be what it is.’ And I remember that because I thought,Wow, she’s so cool,and I also thought,She doesn’t want to see me again.”

“Am I supposed to believe that I left you heartbroken?”

“Not at all. I just don’t want you pretending I’m a womanizer, because I’m not.”

“You are a womanizer. Everyone knows that.”

Bowe is the most fined tennis player in history. But he was once also one of the best. He has eleven Grand Slam titles—mostly from the Australian Open and the US Open in the early eighties. He was one of the best returners I’d ever seen. He was also loud and handsome and intoxicating. And almost all of the women on the WTA tour knew they should stay away from him—which was why none of us did.

“Well, I wasn’t just trying to get in your pants is my point.”

“Yeah, sure. Regardless, everyone on both tours thinks you’re a dick.”

“And they call you a bitch, apparently.”

I laugh. “The Dick and the Bitch,coming this fall to NBC.”

Bowe laughs, uproariously loud. And I can’t help but smile.

“So what do you say, then? Do you want to play together or not?” he asks me. “My ankle is shot. My wrist never really fully recovered from my surgery two years ago. My back is killing me. I’m the oldest guy on the tour. But I still have some fire. And I know you do too. Plus, I know your game, Soto. I know you’re the best goddamn player tennis has. I don’t care how long you’ve been off the court. If I can hit a few balls off you—if I can learn from you—I want to.”

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