The Sound Of Boots (cont.) Part 3
Jeanette George shoved a frozen pizza in the oven. She slammed the oven door and straightened. “I know you, Savannah George,” she said. “You don’t want to get up at five and feed those horses any more than you want to be beaten with a stick.”
“That’s not exactly true. I’d do it for money.”
Jeanette’s boarding and lesson business didn’t make any money. Savannah’s dad financed the operation and as a teacher at the local community college, he didn’t finance it well.
“Why would a girl your age need more money? More money, more trouble you can get into.” Jeanette tossed the pizza box into the trash.
“It could keep her busy,” Savannah’s father said. He was setting the table. “It may tame her wild ways.” He smiled at his daughter.
“I’ll do it for $40 a week.” Savannah knew her father couldn’t say no to her and she also knew $40 per week would be a stretch, but she needed the money to get out of Dodge. It was definitely not so she could become a tennis groupie and follow Gabriel Raul from tournament to tournament. No sir.
___
Savannah was up at 5:00 A.M., horses fed, stalls done by 7:00, showered and dressed by 7:45 when she caught the bus for school where there was a boy who had turned from a croaky voiced fool into an angelic Adonis and he was a treat, but then he wanted to give her his class ring. Definitely time to hit the road. She bought a copy of Tennis Magazine, flipped through it and wrote a check for a subscription. This was not a good idea, but the magazine said Gabriel Raul’s star was indeed rising. He would be out of reach soon and she would be safe. There was a picture of him sliding across the court his legs spread, returning a shot, which should have been impossible and she remembered that he had the most perfect ass she had ever seen, bar none. She put the check in an envelope, a stamp on the envelope and dropped it in the mail box, flag up.
___
After checking the Association of Tennis Professionals schedule, the girl selected Valencia, Spain. She could just afford a decent seat and sat on the edge of it, but something went wrong. Gabriel Raul made unforced errors. For the first time since the U.S., Open, he played badly. Savannah watched him walk off the court with his head down. She waited 30 minutes and called him on his cell.
“Hey you,” she said.
“Can you come see me?” Gabe did not sound surprised to hear from her. They arranged to meet at his hotel room.
“I saw you in the stands. Your bright hair. I could not miss it.”
Savannah stopped, waited cautiously.
Eventually Gabe smiled a half smile. “You distracted me.”
Savannah stood still for so long Gabriel got off the bed. “Come here,” he said.
I t was the softness with which he spoke that made up her mind. “Hey, Gabe, you’re just one in a long line of many. The Plan. Remember?”
Hearing these words, the look on his face changed to something that lifted the girl off her feet. She ran and leapt on him with such force that they fell backwards. His eyes, when he flicked a look at her, were slightly crossed. When it was over, he rolled away, turning his back. Savannah touched his shoulder. He did not move.
“You have to go. My coach will be coming.”
Savannah lay immobilized. She was fifteen. She was a woman with a past but she had no idea what to do. “I wanted to surprise you. I thought it would be fun.”
“Get out,” he said. She got out.
Story to be continued on Tuesday, December 13th.
