The Price of Fame - KJ1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

out your arms and legs so that I can see where you’re hurt?”
    At the term of endearment, said with such compassion, the young co-ed looked up momentarily with glassy eyes, trying to focus on the face gazing down at her with such concern and tenderness. Could it really be her, or is my mind playing tricks on me? She had thought so often about 25

    Lynn Ames

    the tall, dark stranger, she wondered if this wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
    Then she’d been wrapped in warmth. The tall woman’s sweatshirt smelled sweet. Just like her, Jay thought through the numb haze of shock.

    For two days afterward Jay hadn’t spoken a word. The few friends who knew of her ordeal had been very supportive, and the rape counselor from the hospital had found her a great therapist. Over the course of the next year, with the help of that counselor, she had been able to work through the devastating effects of the incident. She still had occasional nightmares, reliving the horror in her sleep. But always, always she remembered that feeling of safety she had gotten from the hand holding hers that night: that tender, compassionate voice and presence that had been her salvation.

    Vaguely, Kate was aware of footsteps echoing on the marble walkway. She looked up slowly, trying to focus her abused eyes, thinking dimly to herself, Wow, you must be more tired than you know; you’re hallucinating. For five years she had tried hard not to dwell too much on the memory of the one woman who had made her consider the possibility that love at first sight might be more than a cliché. Now, for the second time that day, Kate found herself thinking about Jay. Not only that, this time she was seeing her as if she were really here, in Albany. She thought about the very first time she had looked up to see the same vision; it had been the autumn of 1981.

    Kate grumbled one more time to herself about the absurdity of tennis being a fall sport in Vermont, much as she had been doing for all of her four years on the team. The temperature hovered in the high 40s and it was all she could do to hold onto the racquet. Her hands were freezing.
    She applied more sticky powder to her hands on the changeover and rubbed them on the grip. She hated using the stuff, but already she had lost the racquet out of her hand twice. Most of the other matches were over, and a crowd had gathered to watch what was being billed as the best match up in the conference. Kate was the #1 singles player on her team and ranked second in the division overall. Her opponent, a bulky, 5’8” redhead with wild curls, was top ranked and had yet to lose a match that season. Kate’s only loss of the year had been to that same woman on her home court; she intended to return the favor.
    They were locked in a tight third and deciding set; it was a psychological battle as much as a physical one. Kate had lost the first set in a tiebreaker, 7-6. She had come back to take the second set 7-5, even 26

    The Price of Fame

    though her opponent had been up 5-3 at one point; the dark-haired woman simply refused to lose. The score was 6 games all and 6 points all in the final tiebreaker, and Kate would be serving the next two points with a chance to finish the match. They had been at it for nearly three hours, and dusk was fast approaching.
    Kate was tired. She had been up late the night before, first studying for an Economics exam, then giving the late newscast on the college radio station, and finally working on her independent study paper in Abnormal Psychology. She put all that aside, though, as she pocketed the balls and headed to the baseline. She had been oblivious to the crowd to that point, so intent had she been on out-thinking and out-slugging her opponent.
    So when she stepped up to the baseline to serve and began her ritual of bouncing the ball twice with her racquet and then twice with her hand, she was surprised to hear a loud chorus of shushing noises. She chanced a moment to look up and was