Nobody Is Jealous Of You - Part 4

Madge was in her apartment, unloading the last bag of ice she had purchased into her deep freezer. She’d never lived alone, and after spending a week in an empty apartment, the thought of owing the experience to Tiger Eye was both exciting and nerve-racking. The nerves were partly due to the fact that Teagan Haase was her neighbour, Nelly Aruba lived two doors away, and Ailis Acker was across the hall. She admired the ladies as tennis players, but now that they were practically inches apart, she was going to learn a lot more about them as people. And she imagined she would be the first to make a fool of herself in the process.

“Finally, no more books. These are the last of the lot.” Mrs. Duval sighed as she dropped the box onto the dining table. Madge was happy that she owned little more than books, a few clothes and a whole lot of tennis gear. The lack of extra baggage made it easier for her to move in and out without garnering unwanted attention. She hadn’t seen any of the girls who lived around her, except for the few knocks and run-ins she had with strangers visiting Ailis. William had been the only regular at her place. He had helped her navigate her way around the mighty campus, and thus far, she was proud that she could find her way to the essentials—the courts, the gym, the food court and the spa—without looking like a tourist with a map in her hand. The facilities measured up to everything she had seen, read and heard from tennis players and critics alike. Tiger Eye was the perfect example of a tennis haven, and Madge knew she’d be damned if she screwed it up.

“Have you taken up William’s offer to be your head coach?” Mrs. Duval asked, looking up from the text that had just come through. She’d been texting back and forth all day with a certain someone she cared not to disclose. But her chuckles and blatant smiles every now and then while reading the messages had piqued Madge’s interest in who he was. She had no problem with her mother dating. Neither of her children did. But Mrs. Duval had become a nuisance with the sneaking around, whispering and coy little love affair she so openly denied in front of her children.

“Why? Did he text you to ask?” Madge asked, putting her mother on the spot.

Mrs. Duval looked flushed. Madge couldn’t tell whether it was because she felt guilty or was embarrassed by the assumption. But Madge wasn’t one to waste time pressuring anyone for information, least of all her mother. The Cardinal Open was in two weeks, and that had to be her main focus. William offering himself as her head coach was therefore something she had to consider. One of the perks of being at Tiger Eye was having a chain of elite coaches available to her, for a price, of course. But if she couldn’t afford them, like any player who couldn’t afford private coaching, Tiger Eye would be generous enough to appoint one for her.

 

The appointed coaches, however, weren’t equally as good as the private coaches. Their attention was stretched between many players, but Madge knew that didn’t necessarily mean she’d be entirely screwed. She had heard of a few players who had come up through the ranks with the general coaches. In fact, she had been training with the general coaches since she arrived, but she wasn’t looking to make it permanent. Thanks to her contract with Sapphire, she could afford one of the elite coaches. And so, deciding on someone to help coach her for the Cardinal Open topped her agenda.

“William is perfect for you, Madge. I don’t know what more there is to think about,” her mother said, putting her phone away. “He’s regal, reliable, resourceful—”

“No, Champion!” Madge firmly interrupted.

She was well aware of William’s résumé, and his best efforts had been helping players break into the top ten. His last prodigy was Nelly, but after nine months together, they had parted ways. Since then, Nelly had gone to number one and had successfully managed to stay there.

“William did take a break from coaching for a reason. And considering he let you know that he was interested in getting back in the ring, and you’re already a Grand Slam champion—”

“So was Nelly, Mom. But he still never won anything with her.”

“He made it clear that it was because his period with her was short-lived, and at the time he was already transitioning into desk work,” Mrs. Duval said in William’s defence. But Madge wanted to remind her mother that they could afford to be less desperate.

“So William wants to make a comeback, and it’s with me at the epicentre. I have to say, it doesn’t make me confident.”

Madge was secretly holding out for the Norwegian native, Edsel Boleslav, to take her on as his next project. Edsel had worked with many tennis greats, men in particular, with the likes of Hunt and Throne among them. He had worked with the two of them exclusively during his years at Skins before his departure. Madge always felt that he was the perfect fit for her game and propositioned him as soon as she knew it was possible. Edsel still hadn’t given her a response. She tried her best not to worry, as he had told her in advance that if he didn’t give her an answer within three days, it meant he wasn’t interested.

“I know you’re fond of Edsel, but he has little to no experience coaching women.”

“The only difference is our anatomy. I’m sure he’ll manage.” Madge began removing the books from the box and placing them on her shelf. “Besides, he worked with Maria Conte, and she’s won all four Grand Slams at least once.”

“Okay, so one in one.” Mrs. Duval didn’t seem impressed. “But where is Maria now? Don’t answer that…”

Mrs. Duval took out her phone and googled images of Maria Conte. She showed them to Madge as if she had successfully made her point. “Doing men’s calendars and dancing around in music videos for change. Everything you despise about athletes.”

“She’s retired, Mom.” Madge shook her head, feeling Maria’s post-tennis career choices had nothing to do with Edsel Boleslav’s pedigree. The girl had been an unfortunate victim of almost every nightmarish injury imaginable, forcing her to bow out of the game before her time.

“If Edsel doesn’t work out, let me know so I can give William a call before we lose him.”

“Or I could ask the Laker brothers?” Madge was only teasing. The Laker brothers were part of Ailis’s camp. Madge was well aware that there was no word on whether or not the brothers were on the market or whether they had decided to remain loyal to Ailis throughout her suspension.

Mrs. Duval didn’t take the joke lightly and warned Madge against entertaining the idea.

“You don’t want to be stepping on your teammates’ toes before you get your feet wet. Let’s make love, not war.”

The word team and Ailis would forever remain foreign to Madge. “Fine. If worse comes to worst, I’ll go with William.”

Her mother smiled, glad that her persistence had paid off, turning  the conversation to what she felt would be a more jovial subject: Sapphire’s underwear-line launch party, which Madge was obligated to attend.

 

“I came from HQ, and your photos were stunning!” Mrs. Duval gushed.

Madge cringed, wanting to forget that the shoot had ever happened. She couldn’t recall a day when she’d ever felt more self-conscious than she had while posing in her underwear on a beach. Everyone had described the shoot as “tasteful” to make her feel comfortable, as if the word itself could shower her with esteem. But Madge didn’t share their sentiment, nor had she made any effort to protest. She didn’t want to make a scene on her first project with Sapphire. But she wanted to get through the day without having to listen to idiots trying to convince her that nudity had class.

 “I was told that they offered to send you some copies of your shoot, but you turned them down?”

Madge didn’t want portraits of herself hanging on her walls. Her silverware was enough ego for her to manage; she didn’t need to encourage herself to fall into narcissism.

“You should be proud of your body, Madge.”

“Just because I don’t want to advertise it doesn’t mean I’m not.”

“But you should reap the benefits now, because before you know it, you’ll be turning sixty and there’ll be no evidence of your model figure.”

Madge rolled her eyes. She found it laughable that she was living in a generation where women were looking for every excuse to get naked and looking pathetic in the process. “Mom, when I turn seventy, avoiding cancer will be my biggest priority, not nude shots like a cast woman waiting to exhale.”

Mrs. Duval didn’t want to fight Madge on this. She’d let time teach her the lesson, if there was a lesson to be taught in the first place.

“You do have to go tonight, though—”

“Yes, I’m going. It’s a little black dress theme. I still need to buy one.”

Mrs. Duval couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her daughter having a social life that involved something more than exchanging handshakes on the tennis court and the sporadic conversations with an umpire.

“And you have your interview with the magazine at ten o’clock. I’ll give you a call at eight, just in case you oversleep. But behave at this party and, if you can, try not to stay out too late.”

Mrs. Duval gave her a pointed look as she headed out. She opened the door and gave one last hug before quickly making her way down the hallway to the elevator. Madge took a deep breath before closing the door behind her. She walked over to the fridge, wanting to feed the sudden hunger her body had welcomed before going shopping for her dress. But one look at the forest of fruits and vegetables, and she was already weary. So much thought and effort would have to go into coming up with something less redundant than her staple salad for lunch.

“I guess I’m just going to eat out,” she said to herself.

She missed having her mother around to make her meals, considering her own worth in the kitchen was reduced to salads and sandwiches. Madge peeled a banana from her fruit basket and ate half of it before putting the rest in the fridge. She then turned to leave the kitchen, only to stop a moment later.

She stood there for a moment, forgetting what had brought her in, and began drumming her fingers against the side of her leg.

“Change of clothes. Change of clothes.”

She had been wearing her usual sweats, which she had purchased at Journey 22 after her session at the gym. And because she was living around athletes, she had prematurely assumed athletic attire would be common practice. The majority paraded around in high-end fashion, advertising the brands they endorsed. She could only get away with wearing a tracksuit if it had a label on it.

 

Madge pulled out the boxes that had been delivered to her from Sapphire. She was hoping there was something decent in there for her to throw on. She took a pair of scissors from her glass office desk and cut through the tape on the first box, smiling as she stared at a year’s worth of the underwear she had just modelled. She couldn’t complain. They were multicoloured and of good quality. They would also save her a few trips to buy underwear and the money that came with them. She opened another box containing three colours of Sapphire’s latest sports shoes. Madge was a fan of the design, and though she wouldn’t admit it, she couldn’t wait to strut around the court in them.

The last box was filled with sports bras, a rainbow of tank tops and some comfortable gym shorts she noted she would wear for her next training session. After packing her belongings away, she settled on pairing her yellow racerback tank top with the Sapphire jeans she had received in the mail the previous week. She went to the bathroom, contemplating whether she wanted her hair up or down. She looked out the window. The little bit of wind would make a circus of her curls, so up it was. Madge didn’t plan on running into anyone or striking up a conversation with anybody noteworthy, so she decided to keep her makeup to a minimum. She moisturised her face and applied a bit of blush beneath her eyes, courtesy of Sapphire. Normally, she wouldn’t have been interested in her appearance, but after a week with the brand and all the gifts that made every day feel like Christmas, she wanted to make use of everything while she still had it. It was amazing how one endorsement and a couple of meetings had turned her into a fashionista. And if Sapphire dabbled in gowns or dresses, she would have had an outfit ready for tonight and wouldn’t have to think twice about spending her own money. Madge threw on three-inch stilettos to give her outfit an effortless spin. She stood in front of the mirror, feeling rather impressed by her poised look.

“I understand how players can get sucked into this. It’s a pretty easy hole to fall into,” she said as she applied cherry-scented deodorant and puckered her lips for bubblegum-flavoured lip gloss. Satisfied, she grabbed her purse, shoving her phone and the map of the Academy into it, just in case she got lost.

“Food first, then dress,” she said aloud, making a mental note before leaving.

 

Madge exchanged dumbfounded smiles with players, known and anonymous to her, on her way to Satellite Star. She had dined at the restaurant twice; her first night had been with the president and the second with William. She had already put the place down as one of her favourites. The restaurant’s layout depended on the cuisine you craved. There were French, Italian, Greek, Korean, Indian and British Isles sections, along with a mini café, all in one room. And from the look of the menu, the café section offered a little bit of everything. She recalled her first night in the restaurant, seated in the French section, as French cuisine happened to be Serena’s favourite. On the second night, she hoped to stick with French and order something different. But William had other plans. He insisted she expand her horizons, and so they tried Korean. The food smelled amazing, but she didn’t enjoy it as much as she had hoped. Knives and forks weren’t offered, just chopsticks. Madge was a little embarrassed to ask the waitress for an alternative, so she stuck it out, struggling with the chopsticks all night—dieting and dining at the same time.

“Felipe…”

Madge squinted, struggling to read the name on his name tag. The guy gave her a cheeky smile as she realised she had gotten his name wrong. It was Phillipe. He didn’t make a meal of it, simply moving on to take her order.

“I’ll have green tea and the garden-view croissant.”

The guy began entering the order into the register. She felt tempted to ask what they meant by “garden,” but abandoned the question when the girl next to her came up to collect the same order.

Madge glanced at the plate and saw that it was a basic egg salad on a croissant. The portion wasn’t disappointing. The girl carrying the order gave Madge a polite look and introduced herself. There was no need. As soon as Madge looked up, she already knew. The auburn Rapunzel French braid, Victoria’s Secret legs and unique light-green eyes gave her away.

Nelly Aruba.

“Madge. Madge Duval. That’s my name,” Madge fumbled, dying inside.

She was a foreigner to her own emotions. She had played cross-court against Nelly plenty of times and lost, but she had never broken a sweat. Now, all of a sudden, Nelly was standing right in front of her, and she was nervous.

“Welcome to Tiger Eye!” Nelly said before leaving for her seat.

Madge simply nodded, hoping Nelly was too distracted to notice the terrified look she imagined was plastered across her face.

Phillipe stifled a grin, clearly amused by the exchange. “Don’t worry. The new guys around here are prey to that all the time,” Phillipe said in his Franglais accent.

“Well, now she’ll remember that—”

“No, no, don’t worry. She won’t hold you to it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll remember for her,” Madge added sourly.

Phillipe looked past Madge.

“No trouble from Nelly. You’re lucky it’s not her.”

Madge turned around and saw Ailis, dressed like a dame in Chanel, with a brooding, handsome six-foot gentleman with long dark hair behind her.

Madge didn’t have to see his zealous turquoise eyes to know it was Dimitri. His taste for Alice bands against his luxuriant dark locks gave him away. Ailis caught Madge looking at the two of them and smirked as Dimitri led the way towards a table.

Madge turned back to Phillipe, who asked: “You three have history?”

“With Ailis on the court, I beat her in two finals,” Madge stated. “And I know of Dimitri. Right now, this might be the closest the two of us have ever been together.”

Phillipe nodded as he served Madge her green tea. She abandoned the idea of finding a table and figured she would make herself comfortable on the stool right there by the counter. Besides, she thought to herself, it seemed like she already had a friend in Phillipe. He plated her garden croissant in front of her, and her hunger grumbles had now turned into full-blown growls. She would normally dig in with her hands, but conside