‘They win.’

‘And what are you going to say to your opponent when you see her on the court in four minutes?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That’s right – nothing. Not one goddamn word. She’s as good as dead to you, do you understand? You have bigger things to worry about than how she’s feeling today. Like beating her so badly she’ll want to quit forever. Capisce?’

‘Capisce.’

‘Now go. And don’t come back to me if you lose this match, Silver.’

Todd turned around and stalked toward the other side of the lounge where Charlie knew he would fix another huge coffee and then find his way to her player’s box.

Dan raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Well, that was … something.’

Charlie saw the disapproval in his expression, but for once she didn’t let it make an impression. Yes, Todd was intense, but whether it was Todd’s pep talk or her makeover, she felt every bit as tough as she looked. Was it possible a new look could create confidence? Charlie wouldn’t have thought so before. But now she looked down at her all-black fabulousness and knew the answer was Hell, yes.

12

hot new couple alert

ANGUILLA, APRIL 2016

‘Can I get you anything else?’ the pool attendant asked, his young face smiling and eager.

Charlie pulled her earbuds out and thought for a second. ‘Another iced coffee would be great. Decaf,’ she forced herself to say. When he walked off, she glanced around to make sure she was still the only one by the pool – not particularly surprising, considering it was eight in the morning – and pressed play on her iPad.

The ESPN announcer was Chris Evert, one of Charlie’s heroes. She and John McEnroe were commentating on a highlights reel from the tournament in Key Biscayne. She fast-forwarded through the men’s coverage, stopping only to admire Marco’s set point (a twenty-rally tiebreaker in the fifth set, when he’d come back after losing the first two sets to win not only the match but the entire tournament – she especially liked when he threw his racket high into the air and fell onto both knees, leaning over to kiss the court), and then skipped around through the women’s matches until she found her own. Her first-rounder against Deanna Mullen of Canada had been the blowout Todd had demanded. Charlie had beaten her 6–0, 6–0, in a thirty-nine-minute match that left the poor girl in tears by the end. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone – Charlie was by far the favorite in the match, as the higher-ranked player – but she’d never beaten anyone so soundly in her entire professional career. Jake credited her new Warrior Princess outfit for giving her the extra competitive edge; Todd insisted it was his advice to Charlie beforehand not to talk, look at, or otherwise socialize with her opponent. She waved them both off, laughing and saying it was sheer skill and determination, but she wondered if they were right. She felt fierce in her black outfit, with everyone staring admiringly: she wanted not just to beat her opponent but to crush her. When the girl choked back tears of humiliation at the end of the match, Charlie instinctively headed toward the net to say something comforting, but one sideways glare from Todd in the player’s box stopped her in her tracks. She could hear his refrain in her head: You’re a warrior. Warriors don’t hug their enemies.

Her second-round match had gone much like the first, enough to prompt Chris Evert to wonder if this wasn’t some sort of new and improved Charlotte they were seeing. ‘It’s like she’s an entirely different player,’ Chris’s voice narrated over a point where Charlie smashed a winner down the line. ‘We don’t usually see this hyperaggressive, go-getter style of play from Charlotte Silver.’

‘I hate to be the one to talk about the elephant in the room, but is she wearing diamonds?’ McEnroe asked.

‘Crystals,’ Evert laughed. ‘Swarovski, from what I’ve been told. You heard about her new endorsement deal? She’s the new face of Swarovski crystal worldwide. I don’t want to speculate too much on figures, but I think it’s safe to say that this young woman will be wearing a crown pretty much every waking moment of every day.’

‘Kudos to this girl’s PR team,’ McEnroe said. ‘It’s not easy to upstage Natalya Ivanov, but Charlotte Silver’s doing that. Charlotte’s the clear fan favorite now.’

Chris added, ‘This girl went from cute and competent to sexy and killer, literally overnight.’

A clip of Charlie hitting balls into the stands after her quarterfinal win played, and she had to admit that the new look was striking on camera. Even though she lost in the semis – to Natalya, of course – nearly everyone agreed that Charlie was the one to watch.

‘Is it, like, totally sexist or chauvinistic or whatever to suggest that sucking face with the number one male player in front of the entire world is helping her cause a little? Or am I a total jerk for saying that?’ The camera flashed back to McEnroe and Evert sitting side by side in a viewing box above the court.

Evert laughed. ‘I could probably think of another way to phrase that, John, but, no, I don’t disagree with you. Charlotte Silver and Marco Vallejo are the best couple in professional tennis since Steffi and Andre.’

‘Or you and Jimmy? Let’s not forget about that,’ McEnroe said.

The reel cut to Natalya’s tournament-winning final game, where she confidently served out the match 40–love and won the final point on an ace. Both commentators admired her serve, but Charlie noticed they sounded significantly less interested in Natalya than they normally did. Less interested than they sounded in Charlie.

‘Here you are, miss,’ the waiter said, setting down the iced coffee. He was clearly trying very hard not to stare at Charlie’s body. He was failing.

‘Thank you.’

He lingered, and Charlie wondered if she needed to tip him that very moment, but he only said, ‘I don’t mean to bother you, uh, Ms Silver, but I saw you play at Key Biscayne and … wow. You were great.’

Charlie shielded her eyes as she looked up at him. He was around eighteen, tall and lanky with an oversized nose and a smattering of freckles. His white polo shirt read VICEROY ANGUILLA and was tucked neatly into crisp navy shorts. He was no Marco, but he was cute in a young kid sort of way.

‘Call me Charlie! Are you a tennis fan?’ she asked with a smile. ‘I wouldn’t imagine there would be much interest around here.’