Nobody Is Jealous Of You: Part 2

Miranda abandoned her questioning, stepped out, and aimed for fresh air. The house remained under surveillance. Instead of braving the cameras, she veered into the kitchen and cracked open a window.

Mrs. Acker exhaled sharply, eyes settling on Ailis, sprawled across the sofa. Her daughter’s stillness almost suggested peace. Almost. "So, what’s the plan?" she asked.

Mr. Acker rustled his newspaper. "If you have none, stop resisting Miranda and accept the help."

Ailis didn’t lift her head. "I’m not fighting her. I’ve answered everything. She wants a peer to vouch for me—Dimitri." Ailis straightened. "He’d support me."

"Of course. But the public won’t trust a conflicted ex. When I say peer, I mean competition. Humans with breasts." Miranda’s candour sliced through the room.

Ailis opened her eyes. "So, Dimitri’s disqualified because he’s a man?"

"Let’s not make this about gender. People won’t buy praise from those with a reason to lie. They want voices with no stake in your success like detractors, rivals. Their grudging acknowledgment is worth ten of Dimitri’s endorsements." Miranda reached for her phone, scrolling with precision. Ailis watched, wondering just how much her parents were paying this woman. Certainly, luxury didn’t come cheap.

"Connelly Aruba." Miranda’s eyes flicked to her screen.

"Nelly?" Ailis let out a sharp laugh. "She’d take a bullet before defending me."

"Your only interactions happen when you’re working with Tiger Eye?" Miranda continued scrolling, rattling off names. Teagan Haase? Rejected. "What about this one—Madge Duval, just won her first Grand Slam." Miranda connected the dots.

"Not only did she beat me, she’s my replacement at Tiger Eye," Ailis said coolly. "She’s probably being poached by Sapphire too. No favours coming from her."

Mrs. Acker attempted reason. "Maybe if we just asked—"

"The girls on tour hate me," Ailis cut in. "And I won’t let them see me beg." Her gaze locked onto Miranda. "Find another angle."

Miranda smirked. "Good. We’ll drop the pity strategy. Instead, you’ll release a single statement thanking your fans. That means returning to the party." Miranda’s tone shifted, returning to her line of questioning. "When you came back from your vacation, were the drugs already in your cabinet?"

"Yes," Ailis said carefully. "They weren’t mine."

"You come home. The place is clean—"

"Dimitri made sure of it," Ailis interrupted. "That was the deal."

"Fine. You walk in, go to your bathroom, open the cabinet, reach for vitamins, and instead find meldonium, ephedrine, nandrolone, octopamine, diuretics, and coke. What do you do?"

Ailis released her bun, running fingers through her curls. "First of all, Dimitri and I had been over for weeks before I lent him the place."

"If you broke up, why let him use it?" Miranda countered.

"A mutual friend asked. I agreed on the condition that Dimitri host, because I trusted him to keep the place decent." She folded her arms. "Then I came back, saw the drugs, and figured someone left them behind. Like the weed and lean in the fridge. Not my problem. Someone would come for them."

Miranda merely nodded. Ailis didn’t need a lie detector to know she wasn’t believed.

"Did Dimitri clean up himself or hire someone?"

"I didn’t ask. Didn’t care."

"Did you tell him about the drugs?"

"No." Ailis answered too fast. Too firm.

Miranda’s voice sharpened. "Some of those aren’t cheap. You assumed the owner would come back?"

"Obviously."

"Ever consider that someone was living in your place? These aren’t party favours." Miranda had a suspect in mind. She kept the name to herself.

"You’d be surprised what people bring to parties."

"I doubt high-performance athletes bring these for fun. So, my guess this came from someone in the Academy." Miranda pressed on. "You never tried the stimulants? Ephedrine, octopamine?"

"I’ve never failed a drug test."

"And yet, you’re being framed."

"I am." Ailis’s jaw tightened.

"Let’s say you’re right. The party was full of tennis players. Who do you suspect?"

Ailis listed nearly every girl in the League, throwing in a few of the men. Uncertainty laced her words when discussing the guys, but there were a few that rubbed her the wrong way. Miranda took that in, checked the time, and gathered her things. She wasn’t about to hunt down every name Ailis had thrown out. But to her, one name still stood out... Dimitri Gavan.

Ailis folded her arms. "So, while you play detective, what do you need from me? Besides addressing my fans?"

Miranda slid her phone into her bag. "You’re already suspended from Tiger Eye. By the end of the day, the League will follow."

Ailis shot forward. "They can’t. I haven’t failed a test."

"There was diuretic in your cabinet. They won’t need to wonder."

Ailis’s mouth snapped shut.

"Focus on training. Show the world that tennis is still your priority. No interviews, no magazine spreads, no statements unless I approve. Sponsors will drop you. Don’t take it personally, it’s business. And stay out of gossip. Especially online. Understood?"

The game was about to change.

 

 

***

 

THRONE JERNIGAN: MEN SHOULD GET MORE PRIZE MONEY THAN WOMEN SINCE WE SELL MORE TICKETS RIGHT?

 

Serena Steele leaned back in her chair; eyes locked on her computer screen as Tennis Live streamed Throne Jernigan's latest blunder. A tub of strawberry yogurt rested in her grip, forgotten. The man had a knack for humiliating himself. The more he spoke, the deeper he dug his grave. She smirked. As long as his ignorance kept Tiger Eye and Ailis Acker off the front page, she was happy to let him run his mouth.

A knock at her door broke her focus. William Vane strolled in, waving a newspaper. "The Skins must be scrambling for damage control after this." He flopped into the chair opposite her, fingers crossed, hoping their Monday meeting would be brief. He had Madge Duval arriving soon and wanted her transition to be seamless.

Serena scoffed, eyeing the headline. Throne Jernigan’s smug face smirked beside his outlandish remarks. "Savage probably cursed through the night." She closed the video window. Sean Savage, Tiger Eye’s former president, had fought his way into the top spot at The Skins after a bitter fallout with their owners. Now, his Academy, The Skins, housed Serena’s least favourite player, Throne Jernigan. William had sulked when they lost Jernigan to The Skins, but Serena had never been keen on him. He played great tennis, but luck had been his real sponsor. He'd risen during Heir Baron and Everett Simon’s injury years, coasting in their absence. Now that they were back, their spark had dulled, but Throne’s illusion of dominance remained intact.

William leaned forward. "You think Jernigan has a point?"

Serena tossed her empty yogurt tub in the trash. "The boy was bold enough to think it, dumb enough to say it, and too slow to understand it." She wiped her fingers on a napkin. "If he bothered to check ticket sales, he'd see that Gerson Batista, ranked fifteen, doesn’t sell half as many as Feya Yates, next week’s Cardinal Open defending champion. And you know why?"

William didn’t bother answering. She was gearing up, and he enjoyed watching her unravel a point.

"Because Batista isn’t a star. And unlike Jernigan, he didn’t ride to fame in the shadow of greater men."

William shrugged. "I just like Jernigan’s style."

Serena sneered. "You’re a closet fan. Just admit it."

William refused to take the bait, but Serena had her fun anyway. "If Jernigan really looked at those stats he loves so much, he’d realise he’s advocating for a star system, not gendered prize money."

William stretched, feigning boredom. "If he wanted that, wouldn’t he have said it?"

Serena smirked. "That would require thinking."

A notification pulled her attention back to her screen. She clicked on an email marked URGENT. Her lips parted slightly as she read the Tennis Federation’s announcement: Ailis Acker, indefinite suspension. Serena exhaled sharply. Vague. Too vague. She needed a timeline, something solid to work with. Ailis had no value to the Academy if she couldn’t compete.

William caught the shift in her expression. "Problem?"

Serena closed the email. "Just business." She cracked her knuckles. "Now that Throne thinks he’s Leonardo DiCaprio and big on ticket sales, he should be asking for the Hollywood star system in tennis. Don’t you think?"

William grinned, impressed. "But he forgets one thing. He was extra number twenty-three while climbing the ranks, making pennies like every other newcomer, men and women alike."

Serena snorted. "And if he really believes more royalties should go to the men ‘who draw crowds,’ he should start paying Heir and Everett their dues. Let’s see how long before he goes bankrupt."

She scrolled through the last of her emails. Cardinal Open logistics, Ailis inquiries, and a media request for a response to Throne’s statement. She typed quickly. "So the boy shouldn’t be throwing stones at a sport that never punished women for excelling in a world designed for men."

She hit send, swapping ‘quail’ for ‘boy’ at the last second. Tiger Eye was already the media’s main course. She had no intention of being dessert.

William stretched his legs. "You can’t deny men work longer sets for the same prize money. It’s almost a slap in the face."

Serena’s head snapped up. "You know what’s a slap in the face? The women who bleed every month, maybe twice in a cycle, while their bodies cater to birthing these sons of bitches." Her voice was steel. "That’s a slap in the face."

William raised his hands in surrender. He had struck a nerve.

Serena inhaled sharply. "Let the press deal with the tosser. We need to address Ailis." She straightened. "The Tennis Federation made it official. Indefinite suspension. Now, we decide."

William frowned. "We already suspended her."

Serena tilted her head, stretching her neck. "Are you reconsidering?"

William’s jaw tightened. "No."

Serena met his gaze. "Her team says we’re unfair. They believe she’s innocent and are threatening to leave once she’s cleared."

"Then let them." William’s voice was firm. "Ailis is replaceable."

Serena flipped open Ailis’s file, scanning their last conversation. "She wins games, William. That means Tiger Eye wins."

"She’s a pony show. You want to brush her mane. You don’t care about her tricks."

Serena tapped the edge of the file. "I think we should protect our interests."

William’s expression darkened. "You’re entertaining this?"

Serena drummed her fingers on the desk, thinking. "We can’t ignore the possibilities. Especially not me."

William leaned forward. "Is this about your job? Or do you actually believe she’s innocent?"

Serena remained silent, her gaze locked on the file.

William pressed on. "If Ailis Acker is holier than thou, why hasn’t she volunteered for a drug test?"

Serena’s grip on the folder tightened. "I asked. She refused. I respected that."

William exhaled through his nose. "So you think she’s doping."

Serena didn’t answer right away. She laid a hand on her back, massaging the tension gathering there. Her fingers drifted to her earlobe, then her lip. A tell. William knew her stress habits well. He waited. The moment she broke the silence, he’d have his answer.