Trophy Son(28)

I looked at Rufus who was taking a long pull off the Party Mojito. Maybe Dad had a point. “That may be true,” I said.

“Lendl ruined modern tennis. He started training so hard, then winning. Vitas Gerulaitis wasn’t made to play tennis that way. Vitas was made to be either a rock star or a tennis player in the pre-Lendl era. Rufus can’t compete like this either. He might hold his ranking a couple more years but he’s pretty much peaked. It’s too bad. Tennis weeds out some of the greats just because it’s too grueling, same way people don’t want to run for president because it’s such a nightmare to campaign.”

I looked over at Rufus who was standing with a waiter now, ordering lots of food to the table and dancing while he did it. The restaurant was filling up and feeling more like a nightclub. The DJ raised the volume again so the patrons raised their voices and conversations had a maximum distance of three feet.

Andy knew a hell of a lot about tennis. He could go on. I was an oddity for him. I was just a young kid, someone he could put an arm around, give advice, act paternal with. But he was in awe of me. He loved tennis and I was a tennis god to him.

Food came to the table family-style and most people sampled things while standing and dancing to the DJ. I sat and talked a little and listened a lot to Andy. Rufus kept circulating around but never stopped dancing, even when talking. I sipped the same glass of beer.

“Why so sad?”

Ana was behind me, pulling up a chair. “Not sad. Just not drunk.”

“You don’t need to be drunk to stand up and dance.”

I smiled. No way I was dancing in front of her. “Maybe later.”

She sat. “Big match in a few days, I guess.”

“Are you going to watch any of the Open?”

“I’ll come for one of the early rounds, then I’m going out of town.”

“Where to?” She was so beautiful it was impossible to know how old she was.

“New Zealand.”

“That’s where they make all the movies these days.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re going to make a movie?”

“I am.”

I should have known who she was but she didn’t mind. She was amused. Truly. She wasn’t miffed or pretending amusement. “Have you been in other movies that I would know?”

“You might know some, but I’m pretty new to this. I played Bradley Cooper’s daughter in Hell’s Kitchen that came out last year. Small part. I have a bigger part in a Sam Mendes film that comes out this fall.”

“Great.”

I didn’t know who Sam Mendes was which must have been apparent because she said, “He’s a director.” She smiled. Charming, and again not miffed. She found my cluelessness about her and her industry to be refreshing. I could relate to that.

“You know anything about tennis?” I said.

“I like to watch it on TV sometimes. That’s about it.”

It felt safe to know so little about each other. “That’s how I feel about movies.”

She laughed. “I hear you’re pretty good but I’ve never seen you play.”

“How do you know Rufus?” This question was loaded. I was very interested in this girl and starting to feel less awkward. I was having a real conversation. With a girl. In a restaurant. Drinks on the table. The whole situation felt impossible, like I was playing out a scene alone in my bathroom mirror. I kept pretending, trying to fake bravado.

“We met only a couple times. I’m friends with Amanda who’s dating Tony. She did publicity for the Bradley Cooper movie and we’ve been friends since.”

“How long will you be in New Zealand?”

“Nine months. Maybe more.”

Damn. She’ll probably be naked on a beach with a co-star by month three. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“How old do you think?”

I was young but old enough to know this could be troublesome. Thirty seconds alone with Wikipedia could have gotten me out of the jam. I decided honesty was best. “How old you look and how old you seem are two different things.”

“Okay.”

“You look twenty. You seem maybe twenty-five. In a good way. Together, poised.”

“Eighteen.”

Eighteen. Just like me. This was meant to be. I had just finished Love in the Time of Cholera. I felt like the poor, young boy who met the only girl he’d ever love but couldn’t be with her, so decided he’d do whatever it took, wait however long. There was a fate connecting these characters in fiction, there was a fate connecting Ana and me. A fate as strong as my fate with tennis, both planned for me long before I was born. Or so I hoped in that moment. “Me too,” I said.

She smiled. She had this big, booming smile like Rachel McAdams. The kind that had spirit and must come from the inside. There was so much understanding in that sweet, beautiful smile. “Young,” she said. “For all this.” She nodded her head to our table but kept her eyes on me.

“You must be a good person,” I said.

“Oh?”

“You can’t be a bad person and have a smile like that.” I believed that and so I didn’t think it came across as a line. “How old were you when you started acting?”

“Serious acting has been only three or four years. I gave up regular school for tutors about a year ago. I’ll go back to school, to college at some point. In some way.” She wasn’t defensive but she was still making peace with these decisions.