Chapter 15
INDY SLUMPED IN THE CHAIR ACROSS FROM DOM’S DESK AND propped her elbow on the armrest. Her cheek was still stinging, and she winced as she leaned against an ice pack.
Jasmine sat rigid in her seat, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Dom’s office, looking over the grounds and the beach in the distance.
Indy’s day had started off great—a really tough training session with Coach D’Amato where she pushed herself through agility workouts that a couple of weeks ago would’ve been impossible for her.
Then Jasmine showed up.
If Indy’s face didn’t hurt so damn much, she would chuck the ice pack at her and finish off the fight Jack had interrupted.
She had been clutching her face, still in shock, when she saw the eldest Harrison emerge from the crowd that gathered, spring over the fence, and pull Jasmine away from her.
She almost wished he hadn’t gotten there in time.
Then her face would still hurt, but she would at least have gotten in a shot or two.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs drew her attention and she lifted her head gingerly as Dom stomped into his office, glaring at them. Indy glared right back. Jasmine could spin the story however she wanted. Indy knew it wasn’t her fault.
“As if this day weren’t already a shit show, now I have to deal with the two of you,” Dom snapped as he moved in front of them. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”
“Yeah, I’d really like to know why I’m sitting here,” Indy fired back. “I was minding my own business at practice when she storms up, freaks out, and then, when I defended myself, she attacked me.”
“I was told exactly what happened, Indiana,” Dom said, frowning down at her, “including what you said.”
Jasmine made a soft noise in the back of her throat, but it was enough to draw Dom’s attention. “As I said, I know exactly what happened. Violence is unacceptable, Jasmine. You’re done training for the rest of the day.”
“What? You can’t.”
“I can,” Dom said.
Indy rolled her eyes. Some punishment. The day off after she already took two to lick her wounds.
What a fucking slap on the wrist. She’d bet every dime she had that if the roles were reversed, that punishment would be the tip of the iceberg.
No wonder Jasmine couldn’t handle losing—consequences were a totally foreign concept.
“Can I go?” Indy asked, starting to stand.
“No. Sit down,” Dom barked. She fell back into the chair and winced when her elbow bounced off the armrest, jarring her body and making the entire side of her face ache.
“What happened today is my fault. I didn’t realize the rivalry between you two had progressed to this level, but that stops today.
From now on, you two will train together as a doubles team. ”
“Absolutely not. I can’t train with—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s—”
“Shut up, the both of you. This is how it’s going to be.
If you don’t like it, you’re free to seek out a different coaching situation.
” His jaw was set, his brow furrowed, and his shoulders held high, body language Indy recognized even after such a short time at OBX.
He was dead serious. Silence reigned in the office as Dom looked at Jasmine, then back to her.
He pursed his lips and then his posture relaxed, just slightly.
“I’ve been in contact with the tournament officials in Paris.
There’s a spot in the women’s doubles draw opening up.
If you two can prove to me that you can work as a team, it’s yours. ”
Indy felt Jasmine’s eyes on her, but she wasn’t going to look back. “Fine,” Indy said, her patience wearing thin. “Now can I go?”
“Go.”
She stood, careful not to press the ice pack too hard against her cheek. Not that it mattered much; the side of her face was almost numb and the ice was melting. Frowning, she tossed the damp bag wrapped in a towel to Dom, who caught it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jasmine stood, too, but Dom waved her back. “You, sit. We’re not done yet.”
Indy bolted out of his office and down the stairs, but not before she heard Dom’s sharp “What were you thinking?” Though she didn’t hear Jasmine’s reply.
The atrium, usually empty during morning practice sessions, was buzzing with players and even a couple of coaches.
Most were at least pretending like they had a reason to be there, chatting with Roy or digging through their racket bags, but some were staring up at the windows to Dom’s office, obviously trying to figure out what was happening behind the glass.
The room held the unnatural silence of too many people trying not to make a sound, and when she emerged from the stairwell, every eye focused on her.
“What?” she shouted, and a visible jolt went through the crowd, sending them scattering.
As the large room emptied out, Indy caught sight of Caroline stepping through the atrium’s front doors and then checking in with Roy.
“Indiana,” she called out, striding toward her quickly. “I just heard what happened, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Indy said. “Wait. How did you find out what happened?”
“Dom called me.”
Indy scoffed. She didn’t need Caroline for something like this.
“It’s already taken care of.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “How has it been taken care of?”
“We have to train together now. He wants us to play women’s doubles at the French Open, which would be amazing, if we don’t kill each other first.”
The agent snorted and tossed her head like an agitated racehorse. “That is unacceptable.”
“What’s unacceptable?” Indy asked, but Caroline was already gone, the click-clack of her heels echoing through the atrium as she marched toward the stairs to Dom’s office. “Caroline, what the hell?”
“He is allowing his ego to cloud his judgment, and I will not allow it,” Caroline said as Indy caught up with her. “Dominic!”
“He’s in there with Jasmine,” Indy said just as Jasmine burst out of Dom’s office and raced down the stairs.
Without lifting her eyes from the floor, she took off for the locker room.
“Or not.” Caroline was halfway up the steps by the time Indy caught up again.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” she managed to whisper before they reached the top.
“Ms. Morneau,” Dom said from his desk, letting his head drop back so that he spoke to the ceiling instead. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I heard you’re punishing assault with a trip to Paris,” Caroline said, stomping right up to the front of his desk.
Dom’s head snapped back up to face them. “As always, I determine what goes on in my training facility.”
“And that this player’s father is the owner of said facility has nothing to do with your determination?”
“Dismissal for the day is standard practice in an altercation like what happened today, but besides that, I don’t believe this is any of your business, Ms. Morneau.”
Caroline pressed her hands flat against Dom’s desk and leaned over it. “Indiana is my client and she is my business. That girl physically assaulted her, and you give her the chance to play doubles at the French Open.”
“You’ll note your client is included in that chance.”
Caroline waved her hand in the air, dismissing his point. “Yes, but why doubles? Why not an entry to the French Open qualifying tournament? Or better than that, the women’s singles? When Penny Harrison won the Classic, that is where she went next, no?”
“Penny had already qualified for that year’s Australian Open and she’d have been given a spot in Paris either way, Caroline. You know that.”
Caroline sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “Still, I wonder that you did not inquire?”
Dom stood up, resting his hands against his desk for support, his face close to Caroline’s.
“Of course I inquired, but I think the doubles will be a better experience for her, more worthwhile than the qualifying tournament. A little less pressure and a chance to acclimate herself to the tour.” He shook his head.
“I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you. I’m her coach.”
Caroline’s nostrils flared. “And I am her agent. It is my job to look out for her best interest, and I wonder what is your motivation for these decisions?”
Dom threw up his hands. “Here we go. You ever need a good conspiracy theory, Indiana, go straight to your agent. She’s spectacular at making mountains out of molehills.”
“Do not make this about me,” Caroline said. “This is not about the girls. This is about you.”
“Yeah, how do you figure?” Dom shot back.
“What are you even talking about?” Indy chimed in.
“Do you not understand, Indiana? Dom coaches a great men’s player and perhaps the best women’s player if Penny wins in Paris.
Now he wishes to create a great doubles team.
This experiment with you and the Randazzo girl, it is all about his reputation as a coach.
He wishes to dominate all parts of the game. ”
Dom groaned, throwing himself back into his chair. “You’re insane, do you know that? Totally insane. I knew it was a bad idea to let you in here. I should’ve kicked you out the day you showed up, just like I did five years ago.”
“You have a broken memory. You did not kick me out. I kicked you out.”
Indy exhaled in disbelief. Suddenly this entire argument made sense. It wasn’t even about her. It was about them. “Oh my God, you two used to be a thing?”
They both stopped yelling and faced her, gaping like they’d forgotten she was there.
Dom sighed. “It was a long time ago.”
“A very long time ago,” Caroline added, crossing her arms.
“So, since this thing,” she said, waving her hands at them, “clearly isn’t about me, how about we settle it like this: Dom’s my coach, so he makes the tennis decisions. Caroline, you work with whatever Dom sets up.”
“Sounds like how things are supposed to go,” Dom said, a smug grin spreading across his face as he looked back at Caroline.
“Right, okay, I’m going now,” Indy said, spinning around and racing out of the office. Her mind was still reeling. Her coach and her agent. She tried to think back and she remembered things being a little tense between Dom and Caroline, but she never would’ve guessed they’d been a couple.
She went back to the practice court, but morning sessions were over.
She could grab lunch at Deuce, but that would mean seeing everyone who’d watched her get bitch slapped by Jasmine Randazzo, and she wasn’t quite up for that yet, so she turned and headed back to her dorm.
With every step, what happened that morning started to hit home.
She’d gotten into a fight, her coach yelled at her, her agent yelled at her coach, and apparently, they had a long history that had absolutely nothing to do with her, but none of that really mattered, because in the middle of all that, she’d also been invited to the French Open.
For half a second, as she unlocked her door and tossed her bag inside, she thought about calling her dad, but as soon as the thought fully registered, she dismissed it.
She’d probably get his voicemail, and then in a few hours, his secretary would email her—or worse, Caroline would stop by, since it seemed she was his new go-between.
Indy sat down on her bed and kicked off her sneakers before lying back and staring up at the ceiling.
She was going to a Grand Slam, the first of many if she had her way.
A surge of energy flowed through her body.
She punched her hands into the air and kicked her legs out, letting a small shriek escape her throat.
Popping up onto her feet, she bounced on her mattress for a moment before throwing herself back down, laughter bubbling up into her throat.
Holy shit. She was going to the French Open.