Page 70 of Pickled
Familiar sounds of the game filled the air once all of the stupid small talk was done. The hollow pop of paddle meeting ball and the scratch of sneakers on the court surface was a welcome break from their fake laughter.
The women were actually skilled. They’d clearly been playing for years, and their strategy was solid. What made the game more interesting was watching them compete against each other for my attention.
“Oh, Gideon, your power is just incredible,” Izzy gushed after I hit a simple forehand. “Richard—that’s my ex-husband—he could never generate that kind of force. He was always more focused on his golf handicap.”
“Speaking of exes,” Chelsea chimed in during the next changeover, “did you all hear that Miranda Ashworth’s divorce settlement finally came through? Forty million, plus the house in the Hamptons.”
“Good for her,” Kensie said. “Though I still can’t believe Charles thought he could hide assets in the Caymans. Amateur move.”
I rotated partners, finding myself paired with Sloane, who actually focused on the game instead of gossiping.
“Sorry about all the chitchat,” she said quietly as we set up for the next point. “They get excited about everything.”
During breaks, the conversation continued to revolve around yacht club memberships, charity auction drama, and whose plastic surgeon had done the best work. I started playing faster,my attempt to get the match over and done with. Give me Dot and Fred and Margie’s muffins any day over this torture.
“My personal trainer says I should start playing tennis again,” Izzy announced when she was my partner. “But honestly, pickleball is so much more social. And the tournament scene is way more fun.”
“Speaking of tournaments,” Chelsea said, “we should discuss partnerships for the Azalea Bay Open. I mean, we’re all entering, obviously.” She gazed at me as she sucked from the straw of her Stanley cup.
“Obviously,” Kensie agreed. “Though finding the right partner is crucial. Chemistry is everything in doubles.”
They all looked at me. I took a long drink of water. “I’m still figuring out my tournament plans.” I took the diplomatic route.
“Well, when you decide, you know where to find me.” Chelsea left pink lipstick as she met my gaze and gave me a very unsubtle wink.
We played for another thirty minutes, the longest half hour of my life.
“That was wonderful,” Izzy said. She put her paddle in her bag and bent to undo her court shoes. Looking up at me, while bent over, she batted her eyes. “We should do it again.”
“Absolutely.”No way in hell.“Thanks for the games.” I waved and left the courts, but when I reached my SUV, I realized I’d left my court glasses on the bench. Shit. I ran back through the clubhouse. The women were sitting on the patio overlooking court one, sipping coffee. They were likely too focused on gossipand divorce settlements to see me sneak by to get my glasses. I hoped.
My glasses were exactly where I’d left them. I grabbed them and glanced above me. The women couldn’t see me, but I sure could hear them. They hadn’t waited long to start gossiping about me.
“He’s even better-looking up close.” It sounded like Chelsea’s voice, and as much as I didn’t care about her opinion, it felt good to know that I stillhad it.
“It’s so charming, his whole…I-just-earned-it vibe.”
They all laughed. What the hell did that even mean?
“Not everyone is a third-generation club member.” Kensie’s’s voice was distinctive. “Can you believe they even let Judith’s maid in the building?”
I held my breath. Now they were talking about Piper.
“Did you hear she signed up for the tournament?” Chelsea said. “The help competing with actual members? It’s absurd.”
“Someone should speak to the tournament director,” Kensie said. “There should be standards. This isn’t a charity event.”
“She probably thinks winning will make her one of us,” Chelsea laughed. “As if money could buy class.”
My hands clenched into fists.
“That’s a bit harsh,” Izzy’s voice cut through the venom. “She seems nice. And she’s talented. I played with her the other day.”
“Oh please, Izzy.” Chelsea’s tone was dismissive. “There’s a difference between natural ability and belonging in our world.”
“Our world?” Sloane piped up for the first time. Out of the four women, she was the least unbearable of the bunch.
“You know what I mean,” Kensie said. “People like us, people who understand how these things work. Did you see how she yelled at Gideon in public? How crass. I doubt he’ll make that mistake again.”
