Nike was all of 5' 3" in shoes and nearly 107-lb when soaking wet. She was a petite raven haired beauty that could pass for an American Indian, a Chinese woman or even a Philippine-American, since all the blood-roots ran in her ancestry. But she was borne and raised in Louisiana, and spoke both Creole and English- with a heavy accent barely understandable outside of her small community.
The small town where she had grown up to the north east of New Orleans had been devastated by the Hurricane Katrina. Much relief had come to the big city to the South-West, but little effort had been made to restore her family and her neighbors. All that they had- had been lost.
Unlike many of the people in New Orleans who had waited around the city ignoring the evacuation orders- because they wanted their welfare checks and such- she and her family had vacated up into Mississippi, but that didn't stop them from losing all they had.
Fortunately, Nike had a gift- she could play tennis. Her coach in High School told her that it was her sight that made her so good. "You have great vision for the ball Nike, great vision." He helped her to be quick and agile and accurate, but the true talent was her sight. She could see the tennis ball when it was coming at her and angle her racket to meet it just so, to put it where she wanted on the other side of the net.
While she was in Mississippi at the shelter, she relaxed by playing the other shelters, and brought the attention of the local news network when they were covering how the survivors were coping. The broadcast had been noticed by Tamil Arises who had promoted the likes of Justine Harden, Mauresmo, and Jelena Jankovic all somewhat successful Women's Tennis players. He saw something in that young dark haired beauty. Playing Tennis in jeans with a white baseball cap.
Hence, Nike's professional tennis career started. He footed the bill for her to join the Sony Ericsson WTA tour and also flew her to Gold Coast Australia for the Mondial Australian Woman's Hard-courts. It was the first time Nike had been away from her family, the first time she flew on a plane and the first time she left the country.
Everything was strange and new for the young girl- only just 18 years of age. She could understand Tamil's English but he could not understand hers, the french that was spoken in the airports and on the plane was as foreign to her as her English was to the fellow Americans in the flight.
Nike sat with her arms crossed, nervously looking out the window. The clouds below her only view.
"You are going to love it Nike." Tamil normally used extravagant gestures while he spoke but his movements were limited by the close confines of the airplane's chairs. He always was always GQ- even in coach: "You will have to qualify for the competition and then there are five rounds to the finals. Even if you don't win, so long as you qualify it will be good- that will cover the cost of this flight to Australia, the hotel and the next flight to New Zealand."
Nike had been listening to him intently, she sat facing him with her large eyes absorbing his word-usage and gestures to help her understand what it was he was saying, being from the back waters of Louisiana she spoke Creole and Cajun and though her instinct was to answer in the ladder she knew she was better understood with the Creole, however- sometimes she spoke without thinking- she was only 18: "Hunda firfut- nokan lup twiipat." she said with a laugh. It was something her grandfather always told her: "A dog has four feet but still cant travel two paths."
Tamil stared at her- clearly not understanding the words at first, her Cajun accent was that thick- "Oh yes I get it!" he nodded excitedly, "You cannot plan for success and failure- go for broke I get it." he agreed: "This is the Tour, I spoke with your parents about it, it is the only way to make enough money and be able to help them." Tamil smiled down at her as she clutched his arm with both her hands. Nike beamed innocence but he knew there was more to her than met the eye: "You want to help them don't you?"
When she had first met her she'd thought he was creepy, His brother had called him a Poupe'e or a doll, meaning he thought that the man was a pretty boy. She wasn't sure- he was handsome and dressed the right way to attract her attention enough and she was sure he could dance because he was so limber but she wasn't sure if her parents would like to her to sleep with him or not, if she had kids they would be darker skinned babies, or Chaoui'd'ems as her father called them sometimes- Raccoons. "Poberfolk nomutthawil" she said with a sigh: "Poor people don't have their own will." Now that they were alone though, she wasn't sure if he had desires for her- she knew she couldn't go the whole time without sex, her brothers and her were at it all the time. She wondered about the hotel rooms... would their be two beds or one? Was she even ready to have sex with someone outside of her family?
Australia was hotter than Louisiana but not nearly as humid. The air was fresh and a strong Sea breeze blew in from the Pacific. The ocean was green and the beaches were white. The mountain in the distant were brown and gray and she wondered why it was called "The Gold Coast."
"It was a lure." Tamil said to her as he hauled his three bags out of the cab. She shouldered her single duffle bag, it had been her brother's when he came home from the Army. "a lure the British used to entice colonists."
She didn't like the irony. Had she been lured here for something other than what she had been told- like the settlers that came under the guise of fortune from Britain? She'd also heard that Australia, like Georgia in the Americas had been populated by prisoners and murderers- she wondered if that was true- would it be a dangerous place?
"It is fitting -really- that the WTA tour starts here, so many come for fortune and fame..." he shook his head and entered the small hotel. Registration was quick and she found the room ahead of him. It was small but accommodating with a private bath and two single beds. She was relieved.
Tamil caught her expression as he passed with his bags and laughed. "Don't worry about that little one, I am a homosexual the last thing I am thinking about is getting you naked."
She chewed at her finger and dropped her bag on the bed he did not choose and opened it. There were sweats, shorts and more jeans like the ones she was wearing- T-shirts ball caps, and her panties. Her breasts were not large enough to need a bra but her mother had bought her several sports bras just incase she needed them for the matches. "Einmaroon pussie twii maroo nobi!" Don't be a wild cat going two different ways! her mom had said as she packed them into her bag.
Nike thought about her family as she unpacked and took a shower. When she came out Tamil let her call them to tell them she was alright and that she was going to register for the tour in the morning.
"Register and Qualify." Tamil corrected her.
She went to the gym which was located just outside the lobby for a work out, wearing her gray sweats and the white ball cap.
Tamil took the time to set up some photography appointments and buy her some descent clothes to wear for the matches- unimpressed by what he had seen from her bag, and the bag- he would have to get her a proper tennis bag too.
Nike ran the treadmill for about thirty minutes, did several sets of pushups and crunchy's followed by the jump-rope. Sweaty, she stretched and went to the pool for a quick swim, but she'd forgotten her bathing suit!
