Not Quite 30-Love

#BrendaBitch, #LinzCrisis

#BrendaBitch, #LinzCrisis

After the scripted silence, I needed a moment to compose myself. The match had started on court and the WTA staff had gone to their respective cubbyholes to fulfill their duties. Marine and Brenda were ahead of me, en route to the press room. I wanted, no, needed to wash my face before the photographers snapped an image of me that would make a perfect addition to the story.

The nearest public amenity was empty – I checked before having a quiet sob in a cubicle. I allocated myself five minutes before facing the press room.

Three minutes later, I exited the cubicle to find Brenda facing me. She was smiling – perhaps something new as it looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m surprised to find you here. I thought you’d be packing your bags at the hotel,’ she said.

‘Why would I be doing that?’

‘If I was you, I’d be so humiliated. You’ve caused so many people so much pain.’

‘I guess that’s where we are different. I made a mistake. I’ll own that mistake, but I won’t hang myself for it.’

‘Someone will.’

‘Well that’s their prerogative I guess.’ I moved to the wash basin. ‘I’m not going to hand it to them on a platter. By the way, thanks for your part in it all.’

‘You’re very welcome.’ She said, leaning oh so casually, against the wall. ‘I just thought you’d be slammed for scheduling a post. Who knew I’d be this lucky.’

My fists curled up. If only, I’d been recording this on my phone.

‘What the f**k is your problem? What have I done to you?’

‘Nothing yet, but it’s what you were going to do.’

‘What was I going to do?’

‘You were going to use us to find some rich man and float off into rich-people land. We don’t need your type. We need people who are passionate about the game. People who are here to work.’

‘Brenda, you’re delusional. I love tennis. All I ever wanted to do is work in tennis.’

‘People who look like you don’t work for a living.’ What the f**k was she going on about. I’ve worked since I was eighteen. I’ve had like two sick days in ten years. Who the f**k is she to judge me like this?

‘How f*****g dare you? You don’t know me. You haven’t even given me a chance. But you’ll have to. I’ll prove you wrong.’

‘You won’t get the chance.’ She was no longer leaning, she was straight and tall, talking through a clenched jaw. ‘They’ll get rid of you for sure. Especially now everyone’s talking about the post being deliberate. They will feed you to the wolves.’

‘That’s bullshit. The facts are on our side. God even knows where that stupid rumour came from.’

‘Really? You have no idea who seeded that story?’ Her grin reached Cheshire-cat proportions.

‘Are you kidding me? Are you insane? They’ll find out.’

‘They won’t. Give me some credit. It’s not like I used my personal account. Maybe it came from @NQ30Love? Such a f*****g lame handle.’

My knees buckled. ‘You hacked my account. No way, you can’t of. There’s no way you could have done that.’ She shrugged her shoulders, turned and left the bathroom. I scrambled for my phone and searched everywhere for @NQ30Love. I hadn’t posted since landing in Linz. Please God she hadn’t done this in my name.

Nothing. Nothing came up. Nothing since a few friends shared my post on The Blue Danube. Thank God. She was bluffing. Had she been bluffing about seeding the story? There was something about that grin when she told me. She was genuinely happy with herself for the s**t-storm she’d created. Also, the rumour appeared to originate in Austria and she spoke fluent German. Maybe it was time to pack my bags?