Page 4 of Serve
“Awesome! Thanks, Tyler!” They high-fived him, then ran back to the tennis courts.
Tyler put his cap back on, adjusted his sunglasses, and walked to the parking lot. Before opening the door of the Suburban, he studied his reflection in the window. He looked old, or at least that’s what he thought. He was only thirty, but tennis years were measured in dog years. In the rarified world of sports, he was closer to sixty.
He was backing out of the parking space when a thought struck him. He didn’t have to do any of this. He could just drive off into the sunset, and never come back. He’d settle in a remote area where nobody knew who he was. There’d be no expectations of him, and he had enough money to last the rest of his life. He’d also never have to look at a younger player across the net again, a player with nothing to lose, who thought of him as an old man, and an easy target.
He leaned back in his seat, stroking his chin. No more television cameras, or reporters to deal with. He wouldn’t be the first former champion to go into hiding, and he’d surely not be the last. He’d met such players, legends of the sport who only showed up for the final at Wimbledon. After a couple of interviews, they’d scurry off to a palace in Switzerland, never to be heard from again, unless they pined for the spotlight. That was why most of them made that rare appearance, to satisfy their craving for attention.
He pulled out of the lot, all the while thinking of reasons to just disappear. It was a fantasy, the thought of returning to a completely anonymous life. He’d been in the spotlight since he was seventeen, when he’d won the Junior U.S. Open singles title. One reason trumped the rest.
He’d never have picked up a racket if he’d known how depressed he’d become.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” He hit the steering wheel with his hand, and winced. He should be grateful for his career, not miserable over it. Despite his feelings, he knew he couldn’t just abandon it. Most people didn’t realize he was the nucleus of a group of people making a living off of his work, and couldn’t let them down. Sania had two young kids to put through school, and his physical trainer, Gabriel, depended on him too. Hell, even his housekeeper, Dixie, needed him to work. At least, he no longer had to pay his former coach, Scott.
The sun brightened as he turned toward Moore Wood Park. He rubbed his temples with one hand, feeling a dull headache begin. Ever since Scott quit to coach a younger player, Travis Johnson, he’d been getting them. Tyler felt betrayed, and abandoned. He’d given up everything for tennis, all at Scott’s urging. He’d even given up his personal life, lived it in the closet, so he could be a contender, or at least that’s how Scott presented it to him.
“Why does anyone need to know? Do you know how many millions of dollars you’re giving up if anyone finds out you like dick?” Scott would say whenever he threatened to come out.
“It’s not just about you, Tyler, what about all of us who depend on you? If the press finds out, everyone on your team will have to find a new job. Just hang on a few more years. You’ll probably retire when you hit thirty. You can fuck whoever you want after that, but until then, keep your mouth shut, okay?” Tyler gripped the steering wheel tight. Scott had made sense at the time, but in retrospect, it sucked.
Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he realized he was ten minutes behind schedule. He pressed down on the accelerator, and just made it through a yellow light when he saw a tiny black mutt scampering across the street.
“Shit!”
Yanking the wheel to his right, the Suburban ran off the road. Heart racing, he stabbed at the brake with his foot. Without thinking his eyes squeezed shut, then the sickening crunch of metal against brick assaulted his ears. The airbag went off with a bang, and he felt a sharp jab to his ribs, then the world went dark.
Chapter Three
Chip
Sheila placed the oxygen mask over the man’s face as Chip strapped him to the stretcher. A horn blared from the backed-up cars on the street. Sheila glanced up and shook her head with disdain. A driver screamed at the police officer conducting traffic, provoking another chorus of horns.
“His vitals are good, but he’s probably got a concussion.” Chip muttered, then he motioned for her to stand up.
“On the count of three; one, two, three.” They pulled the stretcher into its standing position, and locked the wheels in place. They’d parked the ambulance in the lot adjacent to the picnic shelter, so they could roll the stretcher, instead of having to carry him up the embankment bordering the street.
“Does he look familiar to you?” Chip asked. “I swear I recognize him.”
“Yeah, he does to me too. I just can’t place his face.”
They lifted the stretcher into the back. Chip hopped in, and Sheila shut the doors. In seconds the engine started. He looked down at the man on the stretcher, and placed a reassuring hand on his forehead. The man’s eyes fluttered for a moment, then opened and glanced wildly about.
“It’s going to be okay. You’ve been in an accident. We’re taking you to Hidden Creek Memorial Hospital.” Chip said. The man’s eyes relaxed for a moment. Chip brushed the man’s hair off his forehead, hoping to keep him calm. He had large brown eyes, with gold flecks. Something about him felt familiar, and it was going to drive him crazy until he figured it out. His long lashes fluttered shut, then they popped open, and he attempted to speak.
“Hold on a second, sir.” Chip lifted the oxygen mask from his face a couple of inches. “Try not to talk. Save your energy for—”
“The dog! What about the dog?” The man rasped, concern lining his battered features. A tiny cut on his forehead oozed blood. Chip found an antiseptic wipe and cleaned it as he spoke gently to the stranger.
“We didn’t see a dog, sir. Now lie back and relax. This might sting a little.” Chip said. Relief settled on his features, and a surge of compassion raced through Chip. The man had almost got himself killed to save a dog. Without thinking, he placed his hand on the man’s hand, and gently squeezed. The guy opened his eyes for a brief moment, and their eyes met again. Chip smiled, and the man tried to return it, but his eyes fluttered shut.
“Everything’s going to be fine, sir. I promise.”
The rest of their shift was uneventful, most of it spent restocking the ambulance. Chip was unusually quiet, brooding almost. Sheila kept up a stream of silly jokes to distract him, but finally she asked if he’d figured out who the man was.
“I’ve no idea.” Chip said quietly. “Did I tell you he was trying not to hit a dog?”
Sheila stopped filling out her report, and looked at him, her smile threatening to turn into laughter.
“Yes, a couple of times. You seem very focused on that. He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure.” She bit her lower lip and turned away. This was a new side to her partner she’d never seen before. Normally he had a professional detachment with patients.
