The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Fifteen

A week later it was time to get back to work and buckle down with tennis. Mr. De Luca, as promised, changed her coach, and for convenience, set her up in a private club closer to home. As a cautionary warning, De Luca noted the court hardly sees female players and took a bit of convincing to get her approved. The coach was an Italian named Dante and only a few years younger than Tommy.

When Tommy brought her to the court, there was immediate hostility from the members on the court. While it made Amelia shake in her shoes and hide away behind Tommy, Tommy walked with confidence. He even stomped out his cigarette on the court, a smug grin on his face. Dante looked over, putting his racket down, jogging over. "Mr. Shelby!" he called, a slight accent lingering in his voice. "Mr. Shelby, I'm Dante, I've been approached by Mr. De Luca." Dante smiled down at Amelia before offering his hand to Tommy. "Can I show you to the locker room?"

"There's a girl's locker room?" Amelia asked, impressed, and Tommy grinned, snorting. Tommy nodded for Dante to show them the way.

It wasn't a girl's locker room, only a locker room...which typically meant men's. Tommy and Dante walked ahead, exchanging information in regards to training times and her stats. Dante looked back at her, "we just need to get some diagnostics...is that the word? Um, weight? Height? Fat to muscle ratio...an exam? Doctor is in the back room this way."

Tommy held back and leaned down to her, grabbing her arm. "Doctor probably just wants to check some things. Okay? It'll be quick." Amelia pouted not exactly fond of such things, but followed behind their steps anyway.

"Just through here," Dante said, pushing wooden double doors. Behind it frightened Amelia. No...repulsed, disturbed, and horrified her. Damn right grossed her out. There were men, some old and some young, wet with towels tied around their waist. Until they were no longer tied, but dropped to get dressed. The men paused, looking at Amelia without much effort to hide themselves. "There is a back door," Dante explained. Amelia walked very closely behind Tommy, hiding her face as the men looked her way. She'd seen far more male genitalia than she'd ever hoped in her lifetime in the span of five minutes.

"Oh, Jesus," she whined, gripping Tommy's black jacket, pressing her face into him. She peeked a bit, a young man about twenty-five was grinning, drying himself. "Can we walk faster?" she hissed. In the midst of running water and steam, there was a mixture of whistles and protests. You either want me in the locker room or not. Tommy sighed, reaching behind him and pulling her walk in front of him.

In the back was a small room, dimly lit and stuffy. It was hardly suitable for any doctor, but Dr. Emerson took refuge behind a half-lopsided desk with a single lamp. When Dante entered, he looked up, cigar tucked between two fingers. He'd been fixing something that was just a pile of metal and screws. Tommy commented that he reminded him of the doctor he had to see when joining the military. Dante greeted him, but he hardly said anything, just tilted his head to look at Amelia before letting out a long sigh that said go on, waste my time. He slid back, the wooden chair filling the air with a loud screech, and fixed his thick rimmed specks. "Stand over there," he grumbled, and Tommy shoved her forward. There wasn't much 'over there' space. It was a bloody closet! Nonetheless, Amelia took a careful stride forward.