Chapter 3
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT,” INDY CURSED TO HERSELF. SHE PULLED HER long blond hair into a ponytail, not even sparing a glance for her reflection, as she raced past the mirror hanging inside the closet door.
The closet was still empty, its future contents still in the suitcases and boxes lining the floor of her dorm room.
The walls were bare, no posters or pictures to brighten up the sterile ecru cinder block.
The dorms at the Outer Banks Tennis Club were functional, used as a place to sleep and that was about it.
Decorating was the least of her worries.
After arriving the night before and unloading the back of her yellow Jeep Wrangler, Indy had collapsed into bed, feeling like she could sleep for a week.
Unfortunately, her travel-slogged mind hadn’t remembered to set her alarm, and her body was still operating on California time.
California, where, if she hadn’t dropped out of school last week, she’d still be sound asleep with nothing more to wake up for than getting to class in the afternoon.
Now, she was supposed to meet her new coach, Dom Kingston, at eight, which meant she had five minutes.
Indy grabbed her tennis bag, shoved her room key into a small pocket, and slammed the door behind her.
Then the real panic set in. Looking left and then right, she realized she had no idea how to find Dom’s office.
Her brain had barely registered her room number the night before when the night security guard showed her the way, let alone memorized the zigzag pathway they took to get here.
A few hours of uneven sleep later, she definitely had no idea where to go. Then, miracle of miracles, the door across the hall cracked open.
“Thank God,” she said as a tall guy with a dark tan and even darker hair slipped from the room, pocketing his phone.
He whipped around to face her, his eyes wide in obvious panic.
Lifting a finger to his lips, he eased the door closed behind him.
A bright pink paper daisy was pasted in the middle of the solid wood with the name Katie written across it in glitter.
Indy smirked. Apparently, Katie, whoever she was, had had an overnight guest. The guy standing across from her smirked back, a dimple appearing in his cheek.
“Morning,” he said, and then turned, starting down the hallway.
Indy sniffed out a short laugh and then followed. “Wait,” she called out, catching up quickly. “I’m late.”
“That’s nice,” he said, but didn’t break stride.
She cringed. “I’m late for a meeting with Dom and I have no idea how to get to his office. Please, it’s my first day.”
That made him stop, the smile creeping back onto his face. He stepped up to her. “A deal, then. I take you to Dom’s office so you’re not late on your first day, and you never saw me here.”
Indy grinned. “Saw who where?”
“Atta girl,” he said, his green eyes lit with mischief. He tossed his head in the opposite direction. “This way. It’s faster.”
He led her out of the dorms and through a maze of practice courts. OBX had courts in all surfaces, though the blue hard court was the most common, and many of them were already in use.
“This is as far as I go,” he said, drawing to a halt outside the main building. “Good luck, New Girl.”
Then he was gone, jogging to a very shiny black Audi and speeding out of the parking lot before she could even thank him.
Indy glanced up at the main entrance. OBX was written in huge block letters painted navy blue, darkly contrasting the light sand-colored stucco exterior of the building, except for the O, in neon green with white stripes, like a tennis ball.
Outer Banks Tennis Club, the best training facility in the world.
It looked exactly as it did the last time she’d been there, two years ago with her mom, and starting today, she would be a part of it.
It was perfect timing. The spring tennis season was starting to heat up, and if she could make a splash in OBX’s invitational in a couple of weeks, she’d be well on her way to the pro career she and her mother had always dreamed of. That is, if she qualified.
It had been a long time since she’d played at an elite level. The last major trophy she’d won was well over two years ago. She was crowned the West Coast Regional 18 & Under Champion a few weeks before her mom got really sick, too sick to even fight her on pulling out of Nationals.
Indy was back now and really, she’d put this off for too long.
Watching Penny Harrison kick ass in Madrid was the tipping point.
Indy knew her mom wouldn’t have wanted her dreams to be put on hold forever.
She wouldn’t have wanted them to be put on hold at all.
And thanks to Dom’s actually taking her call after so much time had passed, she had another chance.
Swallowing back the lump in her throat—one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much time had passed since her mom died—she reached for the door handle and stepped into her new life.
“Welcome to OBX,” an older Black man dressed in a dark suit greeted her as she stepped through the main entrance.
He put down his newspaper and stood from behind a reception desk at the center of the large atrium.
Shining gray-speckled tile lined the floor and there was a large wall of windows up on the second level.
“I’m Roy Whitfield, head of security. You must be Indiana Gaffney.
The night security guard told me to expect you this mornin’. ”
His accent was a little jarring to her ears. Despite the beaches and warm sun, the distinctive twang in his voice was a stark reminder of exactly how far away she was from home.
“Indy,” she said, “just Indy.”
“Well then, nice to meet you, Indy. Running a little late this morning, darlin’? And was that Teddy Harrison I saw you walking with?”
“I, um, I guess so. I don’t know. I was lost,” she fumbled.
Was that who he was? Teddy Harrison, twin brother of Penny Harrison, the one the tennis world called “the normal Harrison” because he was only on a full athletic scholarship at Duke and not racing up the rankings of the pro tour?
Roy nodded. “Hmm, all right, then.”
“I’m supposed to meet Coach Kingston…” she started to say, but Roy’s attention was drawn behind her.
“Ah, speak of the devil.”
Indy couldn’t help but smile when she turned and saw her new coach striding toward them from the other end of the atrium.
Dom Kingston was tall and tan, his dark hair a little too long and graying at the temples.
As a player he had won both the US Open and the Australian Open twice, and he was going to help her get there, too.
“Indiana, happy to have you here finally,” Coach Kingston said, shaking her hand firmly. His dark brown eyes met her blue, letting her know without a doubt that he meant it.
“Thanks.”
She was truly grateful that he hadn’t given up on her and had enough faith in her abilities to bring her on.
She’d basically called him up out of the blue, hoping the old cell phone number she had for him was still good.
It was, and it turned out he was thrilled to hear from her, even after so much time had passed.
“Have a little trouble with the clock this morning?” Dom asked, raising his eyebrows.
Indy laughed nervously and shrugged. “Yeah, the Eastern time zone and I aren’t friends yet, and then I got lost.”
“Teddy Harrison was nice enough to show her the way,” Roy cut in, his mouth turning down unhappily. “The second time I saw him leave campus today already, by the way.”
Dom pressed his lips into a thin line and hummed. “Indeed.” Then he focused back on Indy. “You should start getting used to time changes. Success on tour is half talent, half being able to adjust to new time zones, and here at OBX we have a policy: On time is fifteen minutes early.”
“It won’t happen again,” she promised, a twinge of excitement shooting through her at the thought of being on the pro tour and that Dom saw her living that life one day.
“See that it doesn’t. Now, Roy, would you be kind enough to show Indiana to the locker room and then drop her off at the training courts?”
Roy nodded and Indy quashed down the stab of disappointment that Dom wouldn’t be taking her around himself. He must have read it on her face.
“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on this morning. It all piled up while I was in Spain.” He strode to a side staircase near Roy’s security desk, then turned back. “Welcome to OBX, Indiana. I’ll see you out there. I leave you in Roy’s capable hands.”
“Now, Indy,” Roy said as Coach Kingston climbed the stairs and let himself into his second-floor office, “come on, girl. We’ll get you set up with a locker and then off to practice.
I’ve been here since the day OBX opened its doors.
You have any questions or need anything at all, you can come to me. ”
He led her down a hallway off the atrium.
OBX had state-of-the-art indoor facilities, both for training and recovery, a full spa, video analysis rooms, and indoor courts.
She’d seen it all before, but that didn’t make it any less impressive.
Then, at the end of the hallway, a large mahogany wall littered with small brass plaques caught her eye.
It stretched from the edge of the locker room door all the way to the exit that led to dozens of practice courts.
“The Title Wall,” Roy said when he saw the direction of her stare. “Walk past this every day, Indy, and it’s easy to stay motivated.”
Indy squinted at the plaques, catching names and dates any tennis fan would be familiar with, incredible athletes who came through the doors of this training facility just as she had, with the same dreams and aspirations.
The newest plaque was still shiny and bright, one barely a week old.
PENELOPE HARRISON
MADRID OPEN
“They got that up there fast.”
“Dom doesn’t waste time,” Roy agreed, but it felt like he wasn’t just talking about plaques on a wall. Dom wouldn’t be wasting his time with her.