Carlos and Ambre were exhausted and needed a break before starting their spring schedules. Travel is a necessary evil on the pro circuit, and anybody that travels a lot knows that it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Airports are the same whether they are in Dusseldorf, Doha or Dayton. The WTA and ATP tours seldom overlap making it difficult for tennis players to carry on a romance. Carlos decided a week in Hawaii was just what they needed.
They were fortunate to get a suite at the Ritz Carlton on Maui. The Mercedes golf championship had just ended, but it was still the busy season. Vijay had won, but all eyes had been on Michelle Wie who finally made the cut and finished in the top twenty.
Ambre was impressed. “How did you get us such a great room?” she asked Carlos as the bellboy took the $20 tip and closed the door.
“They initially claimed they were booked full when I called yesterday, but then I told them who I was.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Are you famous?” Ambre purred as she put her arms around his waist.
“Apparently not, because they were still booked-up until I mentioned that I was traveling with you. Then all of a sudden he found a cancellation and a room became available. I am honored and humbled to be with you, your highness. I am at your service.”
Ambre pulled Carlos onto the king sized bed. “Well, then service me,” Ambre commanded as she unbuckled his belt. “This is what you are famous for.”
“The view is awesome,” Ambre said an hour later as she stood on the balcony clad only in a Ritz Carlton robe that was open in front. “Let’s shower and go play Bocce Ball before dinner.”
“I’m still at your service, your highness,” Carlos smiled as he pulled her close.
“You better not be bluffing,” she whispered as she untied the sash to his robe.
The next week was idyllic. Helicopter rides, nature walks, scuba diving, surfing, whale watching, bocce ball and lots of lovemaking. They played golf twice, once on the Plantation Course where the Mercedes championship is held, and once on the Bay course where their signature hole is a black lava peninsula that juts into the Pacific Ocean.
The nightlife at the Ritz Carlton was non-existent, but they soon discovered Lahaina, a 19th century whaling village once described by a missionary as “one of the breathing holes of Hell.” Today Lahaina maintains the charm and flavor of its salty history, and is the only town on Maui offering restaurants, lodging and nightclubs within a few square blocks. They enjoyed a wonderful dinner at David Paul’s Lahaina Grill and then walked Front Street looking for some late entertainment. Moose McGillycuddy’s offered live DJ music, and $1.00 drinks on Tuesdays. Carlos and Ambre danced until 2:00 AM and spent a bundle on drinks. At $1.00 a drink, it was easy to buy a round for their new friends. By Thursday they were regulars and invited to a private party after the bar closed. Carlos smoked only pot, but Ambre tried everything on the menu. It was 5:00 AM before Carlos got her out of there. Ambre passed out on the way home and the next morning only said that she drank too much. Carlos and Ambre seldom talked about drugs.
They didn’t pick up a tennis racquet the first five days. “What say we hit a few balls tomorrow morning?” Carlos suggested Saturday. “Fritz called earlier and reminded me I’m playing in Marseille next week. That’s only three days from now.”
“I’m playing someplace in Hyderabad, India. I never heard of it. Are you still scheduled to play Indian Wells in March?” The two-week tournament in California would be the next tournament that would host men and women. It would also signal the end of the hard court season for Carlos. Ambre had a Nasdaq-100 tournament the following week in Miami, before commencing her clay court season leading up to the French Open in May.
Ambre was scheduled to play in India, Antwerp, Dubai and the United Arab Emirates. Carlos had tournaments in Marseille, Rotterdam and Scottsdale, Arizona. All were hard court tournaments. Both players decided against playing the winter clay court season, which many of the South Americans and European players did to prepare early for the French Open. Carlos and Ambre preferred to develop their all court game and be competitive in all four Majors. They didn’t talk about it, but both players envisioned winning the four majors, if not all in one season like Budge and Laver, at least a career grand slam like Andre Agassi.
Sunday morning they said goodbye to the Ritz Carlton and made the one-hour drive to the airport. They both had connecting flights through Honolulu, before separating to start their lives on the pro tour. It had been a good two months for both of them, both on and off the court.
Six weeks later they shared a bed again in Indian Wells. Ambre had finally fallen asleep. Carlos marveled at how Ambre was insatiable in bed. He wondered what she did in the five weeks they were separated. He decided there are some things that were better left unknown.
Both reached the semis at Indian Wells, a fitting end to his hard court season. Carlos had won in Rotterdam and had reached the semi finals in two other tournaments. His ranking had risen to #12 in the world and with a victory tomorrow, he would crack the top 10. He would need to beat his nemesis, Roger Federer.
Ambre’s hard court season was even better, winning twice to go along with a runner-up and semi-final finish. Her only poor showing was Dubai, where she lost in the first round to a qualifier. She later admitted to tanking the match due to exhaustion; “too much tennis,” she said.
“Too much partying after her win in Antwerp,” others claimed.
Carlos lost to Federer in straight sets for the third time this year. He had no answers for Federer’s all-court game. Carlos tried to play defensively in the first set, staying back until Roger made a mistake. Federer foiled this strategy by taking the net on any ball that landed near the service line and volleying Carlos’ passing shots for winners. Carlos tried lobbing, but soon recognized that Federer had one of the best overheads in tennis.
Carlos changed strategies in the second set and took the net on every opportunity, forcing Federer to come up with quality passing shots. He did. On match point Federer hit a cross-court backhand passing shot from 10 feet behind the baseline to complete a 6-4, 6-3 drubbing. Carlos could only smile as the crowd cheered the impossible shot.
Ambre lost in three sets to Kim Clijsters, now fully recovered from the wrist injury that hindered her the previous year.
“Let’s go into Palm Springs tonight,” Ambre suggested. “Our flight to Miami doesn’t leave until noon. I hear the Crobar is fantastic.”
“I was in a Crobar in New York City and it was rocking. They say this one is even better.”
They didn’t arrive until 11 PM and the club was in full swing. Carlos had the good sense to have Fritz call ahead to put their names on the celebrity list. They ignored the long waiting line and pulled their car into valet parking and were admitted immediately, with VIP privileges. After three hours of dancing Carlos suggested they take a break and headed for the celebrity lounge.
“Are you okay?” You don’t look like you are feeling well.” Neither Carlos nor Ambre drank much alcohol.
“I’m fine, Carlos. I just need to splash a little water on my face. I’ll be right back.”
Twenty minutes later Ambre returned form the powder room looking much better and full of energy. “Come on Carlos, let’s dance.” It was 3 AM before Carlos could finally get her into the car. She passed out on the way home and Carlos had to literally carry Ambre to their room. Fortunately there no witnesses at 5:30 AM.
They missed the noon flight to Miami and barely made the 6 PM flight. Their first matches in the prestigious Nasdaq-100 Open were Tuesday so they would have a day to rest. Carlos managed a couple hours of practice with another Spaniard, but Ambre spent Monday in bed. Tuesday she claimed to be as good as new and convincingly won her opening match. It caught up to her Thursday and she lost to an unseeded player after winning the first set easily. She had no legs.
“I need a break, anyway,” she rationalized later as they were enjoying room service in bed. “I’ve been playing too much tennis. I’m going to
go home and get away from tennis for a couple weeks. Maybe I’ll come down and watch you play in Monte Carlo. It’s only a few hours from home.”
“That’s a good idea, and while you are at it, why not stay away from the nightclubs and whatever it is you’ve been smoking,” Carlos suggested.
“I’ll stay home every night, I promise,” Ambre said with a smile. “I just need a little of that good loving to keep me happy. Why don’t you put that food down and come over here for a little dessert?” Ambre suggested as she rubbed some cream soufflé on her belly.
The next morning Carlos dropped Ambre at the airport. “See you in Monte Carlo in a couple weeks.”
“I’ll be at the Casino,” Ambre shouted as she waved goodbye.
The Saddlebrook job was progressing on schedule. Sports & Field had opened the previous weekend and was an instant success. Located just outside the Saddlebrook on Highway 56, it was a perfect compliment to the resort and another amenity for Saddlebrook guests. The grand opening party was scheduled for this weekend.
All the Tampa pro sports teams were represented. Martin St Louis, the 2004 NHL MVP headed up a group of six Tampa Bay Lightning players. Warren Sapp and John Lynch still maintained homes in the Tampa area and joined a group of current Buccaneer players that included Derrick Brooks and Ronde Barber. Hideo Nomo and Aubrey Huff represented the Devil Rays. Many participated in the charity basketball game against a team of local sports writers and a sprinkle of former USF players including Rodenko Dobras who showed he could still hit from beyond the 3-point line. The honoree referee was none other than George Steinbrenner who maintained a Tampa residence and horse farm in nearby Ocala.
Drinks and hors d’oeuvres were served and the Sport & Field fitness staff was kept busy giving clinics on their world class Nautilus equipment. Four masseuses raised $4,500 for local charities by offering ½ hour massages for $100.
“Nice job, Marco,” I said as we listened to the jazz music.
“Thanks, Jim. Let’s hope the Saddlebrook Tennis Center opens this smoothly.
“I’m sure it will, Marco. As you know, I’m leaving for Paris in a few weeks for French Open juniors, but if there is a problem or anything you need, just call me.”
“I will, I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he replied with a smile. “By the way, don’t forget to visit our Paris office. They are starting to get some work for us over there.”
“I will, in fact my tax accountant insists on it. Do you think I can get Petie and Lisa on the payroll for a couple weeks so I can write off the whole trip?”
Marco chuckled, “that’s between you, your conscious and the IRS. I’m staying away from that one.”
Agbu methodically rebuilt the Basque ETA network. He needed a broad base of supporters in order to carry out his long range plans. Membership had never recovered from the raids in Spain and France in 1998 that resulted in the arrest of 200 ETA members and sympathizers, including the ETA leader Mikel Albizu and his girlfriend. There were less than 10-12 hard-core members remaining plus another 10-15 that could be recruited for specific jobs. Huge caches of arms and explosives had been discovered and destroyed, robbing the remaining ETA members of the means to fight. Worse, they had lost the support of the Basque people. The political kidnapping and assassinations made the ETA unpopular with the average Spaniard who thought the ETA extremists had gone too far. Agbu set out to change this image.
Agbu started recruiting in the small towns surrounding Vitoria-Gasteiz, the capital of Basque Country. He visited towns from Logrono in the South to Bilbao and Donostia-San Sebastian in the North. His goal was to establish small, independent cells of four to six loyalists in each town that would carry out his directives. His message was the same. “We need to reenergize the Nationalist Movement by attacking the financial infrastructure of Spain’s ruling party. We will attack buildings not people. No more kidnappings or random acts of terror.”
The response was always the same. “How are you going to pay for this? We are a poor people. We can’t quit our jobs.”
“I will provide you with money soon,” Agbu promised. “In the meantime, we will learn about explosives and how to disrupt the Spanish government until they understand it is in their best interests to grant us independence.”
A month after the initial meeting, Al-Qaeda provided the heroin shipment they had promised. Agbu began to establish a distribution network in the large cities, never in Basque Country. He and Enrique met with Basque sympathizers in Madrid and were introduced to the appropriate people. Rather than attempting to distribute the heroin to the end user, Agbu was smart enough to deal directly with wholesalers that had the street contacts to distribute the product. There were three groups that covered Madrid, and therefore, only three customers. Agbu priced his product at 50% of the street value, leaving him a 25% net profit after he paid Al-Qaeda. His profit on this shipment would be over a million Euros. Wholesalers would be responsible for dealer costs. It was a fair arrangement that could be repeated in many cities. Agbu had found the means to finance the Basque movement.
A week later Agbu received a phone call from an old friend. “Agbu, why aren’t you in jail?”
It had been over two years, but he recognized the voice immediately. “Carlos, it’s great to hear your voice. You are so famous now that I thought you had forgotten about your old friend.”
“Never, Agbu. I will always remember my best friend from Vitoria. In fact, I’m playing in a tournament in Monte Carlo and hoped we could get together.”
“Just tell me when and where.”
“Let’s shoot for Wednesday or Thursday. I’ll call you and let you know where we are staying. My girlfriend, Ambre, will probably be there too. You’ll like her.”
“I’ll be there, my friend.”
Mary made the trip to Raleigh, NC with Lisa and watched her reach the semi-finals before losing to a woman that played four years at Duke. “She was awesome,” Mary reported enthusiastically. “She just needs a little more pop on her serve, and a better volley, and Lisa will be ready to play with anyone, even girls like Ambre.”
“The French Open Juniors will be a good test for her,” I replied trying to curtail her exuberance. “Let’s see how she competes against the older girls before we worry about the pros.” I was surprised Mary had mentioned her name; Ambre was still a sore subject in our household. Pete was still hurting and for whatever reason, it was clear that Lisa didn’t like her. I wasn’t sure how I felt, but I knew she was a great tennis talent. So did the French. That’s all the French Press was writing about with the Open just around the corner. “Ambre, France’s next great hope to win the Country’s championship,” the headlines declared. I couldn’t help thinking that the pressure on Ambre must be unbearable.
Chapter 24
Monte Carlo – The Clay Court Season