Cin City

Washington D.C.

I didn't know the width of heat. I thought I did. But I didn't. Not until we made Washington D.C. where it was stupidly and ridiculously wide. Me and Luci got through our doubles qualifiers easily enough and we were really starting to combine. Might have been that I'd relaxed a bit and stopped thinking of Luci as some star I'd seen on television. Might have been that I started telling her what to do. That we'd spent some time together in Quebec and California helped too – especially as Piet was too busy to come out west. Before Quebec City, we'd not really done anything together. We'd simply met up.

And I'd figured out what to do with the hotel rooms.

"Stay in my room until Piet gets here." I left the bit about staying with me when Piet took off early out of the offer. I didn't really want to think about Mopey Luci too much. Besides, after Quebec City that part was implicit.

"Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't." Which was bullshit, I would have offered. Although I was sure. I was.

"Actually that would be very good."

The best thing was that I could run from our hotel to the tennis centre. Once Piet got here he and Luci cabbed it every day and Luci took my bag for me, so that was handy. Washington was my first big stadium as a player. The first time I ran I saw it climb from the trees that surrounded it – like some beast rising from the ocean. I'd been to the Olympic Park tennis centre in Sydney so I knew what to expect because all big stadiums are more or less the same. Same but different – that's what Jimmy reckoned – hotels, airports, train stations, stadia; same but different. Although the prospect of centre court wasn't the same at all. It was pretty exciting, actually really exciting. Those tournaments I had played all seemed so small now. Vancouver's temporary stands stood all the more temporary in my memory. And Quebec City had been indoors so it didn't compare either. Did all first-time players think that? Can't have been only me. I was happy too, that I didn't need time.

We had some luck with our qualifying draw for the doubles. There were other combinations as good as us. We missed them and got scratch combinations instead – kids like us trying to get as much tennis as they could – kids without my Luci luck. She told me how she used to do it – jump a cheap flight across the Atlantic – spend a few weeks in cheap motels; play some Challengers and take a shot at events like this one. And if you were going to give singles a shot then why not doubles?

Once we qualified, our actual doubles draw wasn't that friendly; we had Fleming and Jones on our side. Playing well might be a round of eight exit at their hands. I'd take that. No need to get greedy. Besides, Luci had hit a bit of form. So it'd be fun to watch her singles campaign. She'd made the round of four in Quebec City. And played well. Really well. So I couldn't wait to see her play again.

Although when Piet showed up it put a dampener on things for me. Luci got the text message straight after our last qualifier. I'd wanted to talk tennis with her. Her tennis and our tennis. With Piet here, it meant that she didn't need to think about tennis, because Piet did that. I didn't understand. Luci had a brain. In fact, she was smarter than me. Besides being Rain Man for fun she'd never get her geologies mixed up under pressure.

With Piet, she'd happily not think. It wasn't for me to question their dynamic. And watching her with him she did look happy. She smiled whenever she spoke with him. They looked a couple. Her mood changed too when he was around, she floated somehow. I didn't have to like him. Not after our conversation; in the players' lounge, while Luci sat alone for her weekly call from home. I didn't see myself as a freeloader. I really didn't. I paid my own way. Hell. Luci stayed in my room when Piet ditched her in Quebec. My fuckin' room. The prick. I wandered off. He was halfway through some point about me not having Luci's best interests at heart when I wandered off. Fuck you, Piet. Talk to yourself.