Thankfully, there was also a new scandal in the headlines: Regina O’Brien, a young and beautiful American player, had been caught red-handed with one of England’s hottest actors. Said actor also happened to be married with children, and the press was having a field day.
Luke served at 15-30 and missed. He tried to put some extra juice on his second serve, and double faulted. He cursed under his breath and took his time before serving at 15-40. Looking across the net at Koehler, Luke wanted to throw down his racquet and leap over there to pummel the bastard’s smarmy face. Koehler was really enjoying this.
Instead, he served and they rallied back and forth and just when Luke thought he’d won the point, Koehler dug deep and made a cross-court backhand that was just out of Luke’s reach.
Just like most things were these days.
“And Stein breaks again to go up five-three. Looks like he’ll be serving the match out in the next game.”
Steve Anderson sighed. The final would be between the German and the Russian, which wouldn’t be great for ratings in the States. But that was life. He’d still get his paycheck either way.
As the players switched sides, Steve ruminated on Luke’s woes. “It’s been a tough tournament for Rossovich, dealing with all the rumors and speculation about his personal life. That’s always hard on a player, especially when the gossip is so nasty. But Ross’s fans have supported him and I’m sure he’ll put this behind him very soon.”
Koehler started serving for the match, quickly going up 30-love on the strength of two aces. “Well, it looks like Luke Rossovich isn’t going to get to another Wimbledon final. He might be back next year, but he’ll be thirty-five by then, and I’m just not sure his body can take another year on the tour. Still, he’s a great champion and he has the U.S. Open coming up. He’s never won there, and he wants it badly before his career ends.”
Koehler finished out the match and jogged to the net to meet Luke. They smiled at each other and shook hands good-naturedly. “Ross is always a gracious loser, and I know he and Stein have a lot of respect for each other. It’s always great to see two class acts on the court.”
As they went to commercial, Steve looked over at his fellow commentator. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks Rossovich punches Koehler in the locker room.”
Stein Koehler’s shirt bunched in Luke’s fists as he slammed the German against the bank of lockers. Koehler had made one too many sneering digs at Luke, and a man could only put up with so much.
“Hey, hey!” Koehler’s coach rounded the corner and shouted out. “Get off him, Rossovich!”
A small crowd gathered and with a great deal of willpower, Luke took a step back, releasing Koehler from his grasp.
“Luke, I know it must be hard to keep your hands off me, but do try to resist.” Koehler smiled as he straightened his shirt. He reminded Luke of a wolf about to devour its prey.
“Just stay the hell out of my way,” Luke gritted out. “And I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Don’t worry; I’m too busy thinking about winning my next Wimbledon to bother with you.” Koehler smiled again, and it was everything Luke could do to keep his fists at his side.
“Well, I’m still one up on you; this will only be your second if you can manage to take down Tikohnov.”
“Ah, but I’m only twenty-six, Luke. I still have my best years ahead of me. You, on the other hand …” Koehler let his silence speak for itself.
Luke opened his mouth to retort when Mike arrived and pulled him away quickly and bustled him out of the room. “Come on; don’t let that asshole bother you. He’s not worth it, buddy.”
In the hall, Luke took several deep breaths. “I know, you’re right.”
“What was he saying? He’s always the worst winner.”
“You know it.” Luke shook his head and tried to laugh. “It was just the usual taunts and snickering.” He didn’t mention the comments about Jesse, the innuendo and sly glances. Luke was more sure than ever that Koehler had tipped off the photographer who’d taken the compromising picture.
Which made losing to him even harder to swallow. Luke vowed it wouldn’t happen again.
His flight home was long, and Luke still felt like everyone was watching him out of the corner of their eye. A few times he caught a woman across the aisle staring, until she finally kept her eyes on her book. Luke had a few drinks and eventually drifted off to sleep somewhere over the Atlantic.
He was only home ten minutes when the bell rang. He shut the door quickly behind Jesse and pulled him close—breathing him in, reveling in the feel of him, solid once more in his arms.