Chapter 8
THE MUSCLES IN JASMINE’S FOREARM QUIVERED AS SHE HIT yet another backhand.
The practice courts echoed with the sounds of balls hitting rackets, feet scrambling to set up shots, and Dom’s voice as he paced back and forth, shouting corrections at each and every one of them.
The sun was setting and a cool breeze came in off the water, a little relief from the heat they’d been working in all day.
Jasmine watched as across the court, Indiana set herself for a backhand and returned the ball over the net.
“Better, Indy, better,” Dom called from the sideline, and Jasmine felt his focus shift to her as Indy’s shot traveled toward her. “Now, Jasmine, step into this one.”
Another backhand. That was the point of this drill, forcing them to use their worst strokes, fine-tuning them until their weaknesses became strengths.
That was the idea anyway, but mostly it was a struggle.
Jasmine crossed over and attacked the ball, but her shot felt the same as the last, a little uncomfortable and not nearly as powerful as she wanted it to be, even against someone whose footwork was as bad as Indy’s.
Jasmine frowned as the new girl took a crossover step and lined up another slice. Okay, so her footwork wasn’t quite the mess it was a few days before, but it was still miles from where it should be.
“Don’t drop your shoulder, Indy!” Dom yelled as Indy’s shot landed well short of where it should have. “Come on now, Jas. Don’t let her get away with that shot.”
Jasmine took three small steps forward, keeping her shoulders aligned with her hips, and hit a crosscourt backhand past the tall blond girl.
“Nice job, ladies,” Dom said, and then raised his voice over the shuffling feet and racket thwacks echoing from the attached practice courts where the others were performing the same drill.
“That’s all. Hit the showers, and don’t forget—the Classic Coaches and Players Reception is tomorrow night.
I expect everyone to be there by seven sharp to greet our guests. ”
Jasmine spun away from the court and went straight for her bag. It had been a long, grueling day and she was glad it was over.
“Great shot, Jas,” Addison said as she jogged over from her court and started digging through her bag. Lara was right behind her.
“Thanks, I really feel like my backhand is getting there.”
“It totally is and we’re going to kill at Classic,” Lara said, holding out her fist for Jasmine to bump.
They knocked knuckles and Jasmine glanced quickly at Addison. She had a pinched look on her face but shrugged when Jasmine met her eye.
“Just kick Gaffney’s ass off the court,” Addison said to Lara, who’d be facing Indiana in the first round.
“Don’t worry. She’s not going to know what hit her,” Lara promised. They looked over to the other side of the court where Dom was talking to Indy about something.
“Have you been working on your returns during free session?” Jasmine asked. Lara was a good player, but it wouldn’t matter how good she was if she couldn’t get Indy’s serve back.
Lara was about to answer when Dom called out from across the court. “Jasmine, hang out for a minute, okay?”
She nodded. The other girls gathered their things and left. Jasmine hitched her bag over her shoulder and approached Dom and Indy.
“The footwork is getting there, but you need to keep at it. Do you understand what I mean, Indy?” Dom was asking as Jasmine approached.
“Yeah, I get it,” Indy said, but she stopped talking as soon as Jasmine got closer.
“What’s up?” Jasmine asked, looking at Dom.
“Harold Hodges from Athlete Weekly is here to do a feature on Alex and Penny. He’s going to cover the Classic, too, and he’s agreed to interview the both of you.”
Jasmine’s mouth dropped open and she looked back and forth between her coach and Indiana. “Both of us?”
“Yep, he wants to paint a picture of the rising talent in American tennis. He wasn’t sure if it would fit into the schedule, but he’s got Penny and Alex down at the beach for a photo shoot right now, so he’s got time to talk to you two.” Dom rocked back on his heels.
Jasmine’s mouth was suddenly dry and she swallowed quickly, trying to understand what was happening. Dom wanted Harold Hodges to talk to her… and Indy?
What the fuck? The bitch just got here.
Dom led them from the practice courts and down to the beach, where the shoot was in full swing.
Wind kicked up from off the water, swirling sand around the two objects of the photographer’s lens, Penny Harrison and Alex Russell.
The photographer’s angle was obvious. Penny was in an all-white tennis dress with a gold Nike swoosh logo across her chest. Alex stood right beside her in a black T-shirt and black tennis shorts, no logos, no sponsors, just himself.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Caroline Morneau, one of the top agents in the world. Jasmine recognized her from parties her parents used to drag her to when she was little.
“Dominic, you did not even let them shower?” Caroline asked now, shaking her head.
Dom ignored her and turned to them. “Stay here, ladies.” Then he strode down the beach a little closer to the photo shoot.
Caroline began digging through her large bag.
“Men, they never think of these things.” She pulled a hairbrush out and handed it to Indy.
“Fix your hair so you do not look like a mess for your first big interview. Think of all the buzz this will create. Everyone will be talking about you!” Then she left them as well, kicking off her stiletto heels and carrying them down the beach with her, heading straight for Dom.
Jasmine took a deep breath and then turned to Indy. “Is Caroline Morneau your agent?” she snapped.
Indy yanked her hair out of her ratty, sweaty ponytail and shrugged. “She thinks she is.”
Jasmine tried to keep her reaction off her face, not sure how successful she was. One of the best agents in the world wanted to rep this girl with the terrible footwork and zero track record.
“That’s great,” Jasmine managed to choke out.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Indy said, her eyes focused down the beach as she pulled her new ponytail tight. Jasmine followed the direction of her stare and it landed on Jack Harrison, who was watching the photo shoot intently, like he did everything in his little sister’s career.
“You want Jack Harrison instead?” Jasmine asked.
“What?” Indy asked, turning toward her, confusion written clear across her face.
“You want Jack Harrison?” Jasmine repeated herself.
“To be my agent? No.” Indy’s nose wrinkled. “I think Dom’s calling us.”
Dom was waving from down the beach, standing next to a short, balding middle-aged man in a golf shirt and khakis, Harold Hodges, who had Caroline at his other arm and was listening to her intently.
There were lots of people around—makeup artists, the photographer’s assistants—and they all seemed really busy, but it barely registered for Jasmine.
Her mind was still reeling. Nothing had ever gutted her quite like this before, except maybe Teddy’s rejection.
No, even that paled in comparison. Her whole life, her entire tennis career, had been leading up to these next few days when she’d take on the best the world had to offer, and now, suddenly, she had to share it.
“Okay, I think that’s it,” the photographer shouted, drawing her from her thoughts.
Penny marched away from Alex without a word, straight up the beach. Alex watched her go for a moment and then, with a shake of his head, turned and walked toward Caroline.
“Hey, they’ve got you doing this, too?” Penny asked when she finally reached them.
It took Jasmine a second to realize that Penny wasn’t talking to her, at least not only her.
Then she remembered breakfast yesterday.
Indy showed up with Penny and then sat with the other Harrisons.
Obviously they were friends, though she had no idea how that had happened.
Except Teddy knew Indy from her first day, so of course the new girl would use that angle to get in cozy with OBX’s best player.
She’d reeked of ambition from the moment she stepped on the practice court a week before the Classic.
Trying to buddy up with Penny Harrison definitely wasn’t beneath her.
“How was shooting with him?” Indy asked, a smirk lifting at the side of her mouth.
Penny rolled her eyes and groaned. “He’s just…
he thinks he’s God’s gift to women. He pretty much latches on to anything female in his line of sight.
” She waved her hand back down the beach where Alex was leaning into Caroline and smiling widely as they headed away from OBX.
“Case in point. I’m gonna get going before the photographer sucks me back in.
See you guys later,” she said as she started up the stairs.
“Penny, hold up!” Jack called as he, Dom, and the man Jasmine recognized as Harold Hodges finally walked away from the photographer and toward them. “Ladies.”
Jack followed Penny up the stairs, but Dom stopped in front of them with the reporter. “Jasmine, Indy, this is Harold Hodges.” Then he stepped back, giving them some room to talk.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hodges. I love your column,” Indy said, shaking his hand.
“Thank you, Indy, and, Jasmine, we’ve met before, though I doubt you remember it. I did a profile on your father during his last year on the tour. You were only a baby at the time.”
Jasmine smiled tightly. Competing with both Indy and her dad. Just great.
“Well, it’s all going to be very straightforward. Just a few questions, nothing too difficult, I promise.”
Jasmine rarely took reporters at their word, but Hodges’s reputation was pretty solid.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Hodges took out his phone and started to record.
“Both of you have a real shot to make a splash on tour next season. Why don’t you tell me a little about how you got to where you are? Jasmine?”
“It’s been a long, hard road. I sprained my ankle at last year’s US Open qualifying, but I just got back from Madrid, my first real tour-level event, and that was super exciting, and now we’re prepping for the Classic and the French Open.”
She’d learned the pivot technique from her dad. It was best to give answers that didn’t really answer the question. It kept reporters from putting together whatever narrative they wanted to write and forced them to write what you wanted.
“And Indy?”
“The last few days have been so crazy I don’t even know where to start.
A month ago, I was trying to figure everything out, decide whether to stay in college or try tennis again.
Now I’m seeded fourth at the OBX Classic, and how did you put it?
I have a chance to make a splash on tour next year. It blows my mind.”
“Who are your inspirations?” Hodges asked, moving his phone back to Jasmine.
“Definitely my parents.” Short, sweet, and to the point. There would be no way for Harold to take it out of context, but instead of moving on, his eyes lit up. She cringed inwardly. She’d opened the door to questions about her parents.
“Do you feel extra pressure to perform well given the high standard your parents set, particularly your father, during their pro careers?”
Jasmine smiled, wide and entirely fake. “No,” she said from between her clenched teeth. “I’m not them.”
“And what are your goals this year? Your mother won the French Open when she was your age,” he said, as if she needed reminding. The trophy was in her living room for Pete’s sake.
“My goal is to play my best. That’s the only thing I can control.”
Hodges nodded and then turned to Indy. Jasmine let her smile fall.
“And you, Indy, who is your inspiration?”
“Tennis inspiration or plain old awesome inspiration?” Indy asked, twirling the bottom of her ponytail around her finger.
Hodges tilted his head. “Whichever you prefer.”
“My mom, then. This was always our dream. She inspires me every time I walk out onto the court.”
“And where’s your mother now?”
“She passed away. Cancer.”
Jasmine’s stomach sank. She hadn’t expected that.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Hodges said. “Is that why you’ve put off playing at a higher level until now?”
“Partly,” Indy said. “If you don’t mind, I don’t really like talking about it.”
“I’m sure she’d be very proud to see how far you’ve come in such a short time. Why don’t you tell me about training at OBX, the best thing and the worst thing.”
“The worst thing is that I was in such terrible shape before I got here, so the conditioning’s been rough, but the best thing by far has been working with Dom and the other coaches here. It’s a whole new level for me, but they’ve been really supportive.”
“I spoke to your coach,” Hodges said, glancing behind him to where Dom was still standing, “and he said, and I’ll quote, ‘Indiana Gaffney has the most natural talent I’ve seen in a player since Penny Harrison.’ What’s your reaction to that?”
Jasmine felt her knees buckle, like someone had come up from behind her and slammed them with a baseball bat.
That was an incredible comparison. Penny was one of the best players in the world.
She turned to Dom, wide-eyed, but he wasn’t looking at her.
He was focused on Indy. If that was true, if that was what he really thought, then where did that leave her?
Finally, Indy found her voice. “I’m not sure I have a reaction. Being compared to Penny is an honor I hope I can live up to someday.”
Jasmine’s stomach twisted and a lump slid up into her throat. She could see the article in her mind already. Penny Harrison, the star. Indy Gaffney, the one to watch. And Jasmine Randazzo, the daughter of two tennis legends. That was just great.
“Thank you, that’s wonderful,” Harold said, fiddling with his phone before pocketing it. “I think that about covers it, ladies. Thanks so much for your time. I know you probably have practice to get to. Good luck in the tournament to you both.”
“I’ll walk you back,” Dom said to Hodges, and they went back to the photographer, who was nearly finished clearing up his equipment.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at training,” Indy said as she began walking away, back up the beach.
“Yeah,” Jasmine said, still staring at the men as they walked away. Had that really just happened?
She heard Indy climbing the stairs, leaving her behind.
“Hey, Indy,” Jasmine called.“Do me a favor?”
Indy turned. “Yeah?”
“Kick Lara’s ass in the first round, okay?”
Indy tilted her head, a small grin tugging up at one corner of her mouth. “I plan on it.”
A swell of courage roared through Jasmine’s body. “Good, then I’ll have the pleasure of beating the hell out of you in the final.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Indy shouted back.
“Damn straight we will,” Jasmine said to herself. “Damn straight.”