Game On (10 page)

“That was fun,” Maya said through gasps of air. Somehow, being publicly flogged didn't make the experience any less exciting.

“Could I have set you up for that tweener any more?” Nicole asked. She was smiling, but it was that kind of smile that said she was thoroughly bothered. “I need to work on my pace,” she added. “I might as well have thrown you the ball underhanded on that shot.”

Here Nicole had absolutely demolished her, but all she could fixate on was the one point she'd lost. Was that what it took to be a world champion, or was Nicole just insane?

“Thanks,” Jordan said, in the middle of a call. Brokering a deal for Nicole took precedence over showing any gratitude to Maya. Or eye contact.

Maya and Nicole left the court to a throng of suck-ups. There was no compliment too big to throw at Nicole. No volume too loud.

“Can I get a picture?” a photographer asked. “Not for me; I'm with the Academy.”

“My agent is right over there.” Nicole directed him to Jordan. “She handles everything.” It was clear that even if the photographer was with the Academy, Nicole was still in charge. And she didn't work for free.

“I was talking to this girl,” he said, gesturing to Maya.

Maya looked at him. So did Nicole. Their looks said the exact same thing:
Her?

“You're beautiful,” he said. “Professionally speaking, of course.”

“Oh,” Maya said, rather dazed. That oxygen clearly hadn't made its way back to her brain. She was sweaty. She was flushed. But she was also still sporting her makeover from last night. “Um … I guess?”

Waiting for him to set up his camera, Maya stood there completely taken aback. As Nicole watched, that same forced smile spread across her face. It was obvious Maya wasn't the only one in total disbelief.

As Maya made her way back to Watson, her mind was still at the courts. But not on the courts, shockingly. She'd gone toe-to-toe with Nicole King (for one point, anyway), a fantasy daydream spectacular she'd had since the first time she saw Nicole play on TV. And yet it was what had happened off the courts that had her thoughts swirling. The only things Maya had ever heard about the way she looked were how freakishly tall she was, how creepily blue her eyes were, how plain blond her hair was. Suddenly, those were all pluses? She had gotten compliments last night, but she'd attributed that to the dress and the cleavage. But today there was no twelve-thousand-dollar gown in sight, and the photographer had still wanted a picture of
her
. In addition to plucking Maya's brows, rouging her lips, and hot-oiling her hair, Renee must've chucked fairy dust on her.

“Maya!” a guy's voice came from behind her. She turned. It was Travis, running after her.

“Maya, I've been calling you since the football field.” Travis was smiling, even if he was out of breath.

“Sorry, I … I get lost in my brain sometimes,” she said. “It's a tricky place, lots of booby traps.” Maya hadn't perfected talking to Travis yet, but she was too distracted by the fact that Travis was chasing after her to care.

“Sorry for last night,” he said. “I got dragged away. Literally dragged. Ice emergency.”

“Oh, wow,” she said. “Yeah, ice melts.” Okay, now she was hearing herself. She wanted to run face-first into a pole just to shut herself up.

“I would much rather have spent that time with you.” Travis flashed his million-dollar smile.

That urge to self-injure went right out the window. She was flooded with goose bumps. Finally, she willed herself to speak.

“I had to leave early,” she said. “To go take care of a friend.”

“That's great,” Travis said. “Not that you left early or that your friend needed help or anything, just that you put them first. Loyalty means a lot to me. You don't find that in many people.”

Maya blushed. The way he was looking at her was intense. Normally she'd look away or crack a joke. But this time she just looked back. It was a completely, totally, fantastically romantic moment.

“Travis! Maya!” Jake had a pompous grin across his face as he threw an arm around each of them. “What a night, huh?”

Maya smelled the alcohol on his breath. “Looks like yours is still continuing,” she said.

“You know,” Jake said pointedly, “you brush and you brush, but some tastes you just can't get out of your mouth.”

Maya tightened up.

“I hope you weren't too annoyed with Jake last night,” Travis said. “I'm used to apologizing for him, so this wouldn't be anything shocking.”

Wouldn't it?

“Not at all,” Maya said. “I was only with him for a few minutes before I had to go.”

Jake met her eyes. Maya looked away.

“Listen, Maya,” Travis said, suddenly shifting. “I wondered if you wanted to hang out tomorrow night.”

“You mean, like, go-see-a-drive-in-movie-together hang out?” Was he seriously asking her out?

“Yes,” Travis said. “Like a drive-in-movie date.”

Oh my God, he is seriously asking me out.

“I don't know when the last date you went on was,” Jake said, interrupting the moment, “but they haven't had drive-ins since
Grease
.”

Maya ignored Jake. “That would be … great.”

“No maybe?” Travis asked.

“No, no maybe.” She smiled.

“Pick you up at six, then,” he said. “Okay, I've got to get back to the field before someone jacks all my stuff. See you later!” He smiled (
that smile!
), then ran back.

Maya stood there basking in this moment. Jake just stood there.

“You didn't tell him about kissing me,” Jake said.

“You kissed me,” she retorted.

Jake shrugged. “Semantics. You covered it up for a reason. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was because you liked it so much.”

“You don't know any better,” she said.

“Then I'm right.” He smiled, triumphant.

“What? No!” She was getting louder.

“Well, now you're getting flustered.” He wouldn't let up. “Look how red you're turning.” Jake was harder to rally against than Nicole.

“I'm getting red because you're making me flustered!”

“There's nothing wrong with enjoying a kiss between friends,” he said.

“It wasn't a kiss between friends!” Maya was pretty sure she was now full-on maroon.

“I notice you didn't argue with the enjoyed part,” he said, smiling. “See? I knew you liked it.”

He walked off.

“I didn't like it,” she called after him. “I didn't like it!!”

Why did every conversation with Jake end with her screaming after him like a lunatic?

Maya steadied herself. She had far, far more important things to worry about.

She had a date.

Renee sat on Maya's bed applying eye shadow. Unlike at the costume party, where Maya was basically her mannequin, Maya had to pay attention. At some point, she was going to have to do something called “reapplying,” and apparently that was an area rife with pitfalls.

“First you apply a dark shade along your lash line,” Renee instructed her. “Then you put a medium shade on the crease, like this … and then you put a light shade up to the eyebrow bone but not beyond. Then you want to blend any hard edges so it looks like one color is melting into the next.”

Maya was already lost. She glanced at Cleo, who was using an eyeliner pencil to black out a tooth. “Don't look at me; this is your bright idea.”

Maya turned back to Renee. “You do this every day?”

“No, of course not,” Renee said. “This is obviously for a nighttime look. I do something totally different for daytime.”
She brushed out Maya's hair. “Your hair's actually held up pretty well from the other night.”

“Figured,” Cleo said. “It had enough hair spray in it to choke a horse.”

“Look who's making fun,” Renee said. “How long did your hairdo take?” Cleo's hair had gone from red to blue, with purple tips.

“This isn't vanity,” Cleo said. “I'm expressing my individuality.”

“If it takes you two hours to do it, it's vanity.” Renee smiled. Then, finishing Maya's hair and makeup, she unveiled the pièce de résistance: a stunning blue Vivienne Westwood cocktail dress.

“Holy …” was all Cleo could say.

Maya was equally blown away. “If this dress cost anywhere near twelve thousand dollars, I don't want to hear it.”

“Twelve thousand! Ha!” The way Renee said it opened up the very real possibility that it had cost a hell of a lot more.

Maya put the dress on. Wearing it, she felt like she was visiting another planet. But it wasn't an entirely unpleasant trip.

“Good God, Maya,” Renee said, shaking her head. “With those legs, that cocktail dress is now a micromini.”

“I'll wear something else,” Maya said.

“No, it's hot,” Renee said. “The ball gown was a costume; this … this is just you. I'm getting that feeling of hatred for you again. It's really not fair.”

Maya still had no idea how to take a compliment. Any she'd received in the past were for her on-court play, and she could say thanks and mean it because she worked hard for
that. But getting compliments on something she had no hand in? How do you say thanks for that?

“What do you say or do on a date with the millionaire son of a sports icon and the Academy owner?” Maya asked.

“It's no different than a regular date,” Renee said, fixing Maya's bra straps.

“Okay, that doesn't help,” Maya said. This is where Renee could really make fun of her. If Renee were that kind of girl.

“It's like a game,” Renee said. “You like games, right? Well, this is a game you play in a cute dress and heels.”

Okay.
Maya was listening.

“The object of the game,” Renee said, “is to make the guy feel like he's winning the entire time, but in the end, you've got them by the you-know-whats.”

“How do you do that?” Maya asked.

“With your girly charm,” Renee said.

Maya stared at her blankly.

“You build them up,” Renee said. “You make them feel attractive and manly. You open your mouth and lick your lips. You laugh at his jokes. You compliment his masculinity. What he doesn't realize is that he's playing by your rules. You're controlling the game. He gets addicted to feeling that good, and to keep getting that fix, he'll do whatever you want. Game over. You win.”

Maya was unsure. “Open my mouth …?”

Renee was exasperated. “Okay, look. I'll be the girl, Cleo will be the guy.”

Cleo put down the eyelash curler she was using to pick
crumbs off her shirt and keyed back into the conversation. “The minute I tell you I kissed a girl, I have to be a guy?”

“Just play along,” Renee said. She sauntered over to Cleo, who still had her blackened tooth. “So, what are you doing there?” Renee asked seductively.

Cleo just eyed her. “Looking for escape routes?” Renee swatted her. “Okay, okay. Uh … greasing up my hog.”

Maya looked at Cleo. “Greasing up your hog?”

“If I'm going to be a guy, I'm going to be the hairy-chested, knuckle-dragging gorilla kind,” Cleo said. She mock-spit into her hand, wiped it clean on her jeans, and shook Renee's hand. Renee was undeterred.

“Ow, you almost broke my hand. Such a strong handshake,” Renee purred. “I like strong hands.” Renee licked her lips. Maya couldn't decide if this was a valuable lesson or a trainwreck. But she wasn't looking away.

“That ain't all I got that's strong,” Cleo said. It didn't make sense. But it didn't have to. Renee laughed anyway as if it were the funniest joke she'd ever heard in her entire life and before.

“You're bad.” Renee slid closer to Cleo. “My mother would kill me if she knew I was talking to a bad boy like you.”

Cleo couldn't help but grin.

“You like bad boys?” Cleo asked, getting into it.

“Maybe,” Renee cooed. “I really like when people have the guts to do what they want and just say screw it, you know? Screw what people think. Like, shaving half their head …” Suddenly, Renee snapped out of it, caught off guard by Cleo's hair. “That's actually a really great cut, Cleo. Where did you get it done?”

“I did it myself,” Cleo said, thrown to be yanked out of their role-play.

“You're lying,” Renee said. “You shouldn't be a golfer; you should be a hairstylist.”

“No.” Cleo waved her off.

“I'm serious!” Renee kept studying it. “I pay a guy in Paris a fortune to cut my hair, and you do it better than he does.”

Cleo blushed. “Really? Wow.”

Renee looked to Maya and smiled. “See? All it takes are a few compliments and they're eating out of your hand.”

Cleo and Maya both gaped. Renee had just played Cleo, and she'd completely fallen for it.

“Wow,” Maya marveled. “That's evil.”

“It's not evil,” Renee said. “It's being a woman. See, not so silly after all.”

“How did you learn all this?” Maya asked.

“You can't grow up around my mother and not pick up a few tips.” Renee swept her makeup into her bag.

Suddenly, a car honked just down below. Renee went to the window. Travis was sitting in his glossy white Mercedes Roadster convertible.

“Your chariot awaits!” Renee said.

Maya poked her head out to confirm she wasn't dreaming.

The restaurant was amazing. It was more like an oasis than a place to eat. On the water, it was open-air with long, flowing white curtains that blew gently inside, tea lights on every table, and more flowers than you'd find at a presidential funeral. Maya would've been aware of all of this if she could take her eyes
off the menu for one second. But they were fixed to it like glue. Focusing on the pretty writing was so much easier than focusing on the pretty guy sitting directly across from her.