Carrie Soto Is Back(25)

“First of all, nobody wants to hear what I have to say,” I tell her.

Gwen raises her eyebrows, considering, and then nods, conceding the point.

“But second of all, it’s not a matter of money. It’s a matter of honor.”

Gwen reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. “I need you to really think about this, Carrie. Honor is…sometimes just a nice word for ego. And I will always choose money over ego. Personally.”

I look at her. “I appreciate your advice, but it’s not up for debate.”

“I’m just trying to look out for your future,” Gwen says, pulling back. She picks up the muffin, tears a piece off, and eats it.

“Gwen, all I’ve ever had is this game,” I say.

She nods. “I know that.”

“And now it’s about to be ripped from my hands. Leaving me with nothing.”

“That’s not tr—”

“Yes,” I say, cutting her off. “It is true. I cannot let Nicki overtake the record. And I need you on board.”

Gwen takes a sip of her coffee, then puts the mug back down. “And you are confident this is the right move?”

“It is the only move. I cannot conceive of any other future.”

“Okay,” she says. “Then I’m on board. I’m all in.”

I can tell from the timid look on her face that she is worried I’m about to lose us both a lot of money. And while I feel a spark of rage at her lack of confidence, I’m smart enough to take the win.

“Thank you,” I say. “And get ready to be proven wrong.”

“There’s nothing to prove me wrong about,” she says. “I believe in you. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to play in all four Slams this year, and I am going to win at least one to reclaim my record.”

“So your first year out of retirement, you’re confident you can win a Slam?” Gwen says.

“Yes,” I say. “I am.”

“And what if Nicki wins another one first?”

My shoulders tense, and I try to unclench my teeth. “Let me worry about that.”

“Okay,” she says. “Understood. And you’re not rejoining the full WTA tour?”

I shake my head. “No, I just want to play select tournaments. But I don’t know my standing with the ITF or the WTA.”

Gwen gets up and hits the intercom on her desk phone. “Ali, can you get someone from ITF or WTA on the line and find out—as coyly as possible, please—whether a player like Carrie would get wild cards at all four Slams if she entered?”

“On it.”

Gwen lets go of the intercom. “Okay, what’s next? What else do you need?”

“Well, I could use a good hitter, if you have any ideas. Not just someone to rally with. I need someone really high-level. So I can gauge whether I’m ready for the best players.”

Gwen nods. “You need someone at the top of the game, somebody who can help you get to where Nicki is.”

I wince at the implication that we are that far apart. “Well, Nicki’s…yeah, someone at top level.”

“We can make some calls,” Gwen says. “And see who wants to practice with you.”

“Okay,” I say. “Fine. But not Suze Carter––I can’t stand her. Or Brenda Johns. But anyone else is fine. The two of them are just so…perky. What about Ingrid Cortez? She keeps giving Nicki a run for her money in the final. Maybe she and I can work together a little.”

“Anything else?”

“I need Wilson to send me new rackets. I’ll need Adidas to send outfits and new Break Points in this season’s colors. Should I hire an assistant again? To book my travel and coordinate hotels?”

“If it’s just four tournaments, Ali can do it.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“But you’re packing your own luggage. I’m not your mother.”

The joke sits there, heavy in the air for a moment. When your mother is dead, it follows you everywhere—popping up in offhand remarks. I notice them all the time, even if the person speaking doesn’t. I can tell that Gwen realizes what she said was insensitive, and I appreciate that she decides to breeze past it. There is nothing worse than having to make someone else feel better that your mom died.

“What’s next?” Gwen asks.

But for the briefest of moments, I wonder what my mother would think of me today. If she would be proud of what I’m attempting to do. I don’t know the answer. And I realize just how long it’s been since I asked myself that question.

Ali knocks on the door and comes in. “Okay! This is exciting. I have our answers.”

“Tell me,” I say.

“Because you are a former WTA number one and have won all four Slams previously, you are guaranteed a wild card at any WTA or ITF event you choose.”

“Yeah!” I say. “Now we’re talkin’.”

“You can pick and choose what tournaments you want to enter. We have to file some paperwork, but it will be no problem to get you in as a wild card draw for the Australian Open in three months.”

“Will I be seeded?”

“No,” Ali says. “All your past points are irrelevant now. You don’t have any current ranking to seed from. Until you start winning,” she adds, grinning.