Game. Set. Match.

by Jennifer Iacopelli

  “How was shooting with him?” Indy asked, a smirk lifting up 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 just latches on to anything female in his line of sight.” She waved her hand back down the beach where Alex was leaning into Caroline Morneau and smiling widely as they headed away from OBX. “Case in point. I’m gonna get going before the photographers suck 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. “Girls.” Jack nodded to them both, but followed straight after his sister.

  Jack followed Penny up the stairs, but Dom stopped in front of them with the reporter. “Jasmine, Indiana, 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, Indiana, 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 just a baby at the time.”

  Jasmine smiled tightly.

  “Well, girls, 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 up a recording app. “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 juniors, but I just got back from Madrid, my first 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 Indiana?”

  “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 go to college or stick with tennis. 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 shook her head and smiled. “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 asked, as if she needed reminding. The trophy was in her living room for Pete’s sake.

  “My goals are 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, Indiana, who is your inspiration?”

  “Tennis inspiration or just 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 about a year ago from 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 pretty 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, Dom Kingston,” 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 insane 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 Indiana, who was just standing there, staring at the reporter. If that was true, if that’s 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 she felt a lump slide 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 and she couldn’t just let her leave.

  “Hey, Indy,” Jasmine called. The other girl stopped. “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.”

  Chapter 7

  May 17th

  Dumping the last bucket of ice into the tub, Indy slid out of her training clothes with as little movement as possible. She let them fall to the training room floor. Bending down to pick them up wasn’t an option; it would hurt way too much. It didn’t matter though. She had her dress for the Outer Banks Classic Players and Coaches Reception hanging in her locker.

  Her body protested with a violent jolt, joints unbending, as she lifted one leg then the other, her calves spasming in protest as she lowered herself into the tub of icy water. Huffing out a breath, her entire body tensed as the frigid water saturated her skin, shocking her muscles into submission.

  Less than a week at OBX and she was in constant agony. Every workout was harder than the last, every mistake magnified and dissected by her new coaches. Her strengths were twisted into weaknesses; her limitations were highlighted at every opportunity.

  She knew going in it would be hard. She just never imagined it would be this hard. Then again, she wasn’t sure what exactly she imagined. Whatever it was it definitely hadn’t included ice baths.

&n
bsp; Groaning as her head fell back against the edge of the tub, she tried to force her mind to think about anything other than the numbing cold surrounding her body. It would get better soon. It had to get better soon or she was going to crack.

  Fifteen minutes later, she lifted herself out of the tub, teeth chattering and gooseflesh spreading over her skin. She wrapped herself in a towel and moved into the main locker room.

  Friendly chatter was common in the OBX locker room. It wasn’t so different from her locker room at school, except back in California, Indy had friends. As soon as she passed each row of lockers, the girls there dissolved into whispers and stares. She turned into her row and across the aisle, Lara and Addison were putting the finishing touches on their outfits for the night, Addison pinning her long red hair into a bun at the top of her head and Lara sliding bangle bracelets onto her wrists. Both girls ignored her, which was an improvement as far as Indy was concerned.

  “Hey,” Penny said, emerging from the other end of the row wrapped in a towel as well. “Enjoy your ice bath?”

  “Shut up,” Indy said, her teeth still chattering as she spun through her locker combination. The shivers outweighed any nervousness she still felt in front of OBX’s star player.

  “You’ll get used to it.” Penny pulled on a pretty, pale yellow sundress, clearly not what she was planning to wear to the party, which was a formal affair held every year just prior to the beginning of the Classic. OBX students were supposed to mingle with the press and sponsors, and welcome the other players. The only welcome Indy wanted to give her competition was a serve into the body, but it was a mandatory event for all OBX players and staff, Dom’s orders.

  “Doubtful,” Indy replied. She pushed the metal clamp up on her locker and opened the door. She stood a moment, blinking at her empty locker: the garment bag with her dress in it was gone.

  “Did you bring your dress here?” Penny peered into the locker too.

  “I thought I did.” Indy leaned in, as if searching the empty space would somehow make it appear again. “What the hell? It was right here when I went out to practice.”

  Penny frowned and glanced across the row to Addison and Lara, who were putting on a badly acted show of indifference, but glancing at Indy every few seconds. “I think I know.”

  Indy closed her eyes. Those bitches. “I’m going to kill them. Both of them.”

  “No,” Penny said, grabbing her arm. “Put on whatever clean clothes you have and come to my house. I have way more dresses than I know what to do with and we’re close to the same size. We can find you something.”

  “I can’t just let them get away with this,” Indiana whispered through gritted teeth “Yeah, you can,” Penny said and then lowered her voice. “They’re only doing this because they’re terrified of you. The tournament starts tomorrow and you’re going to kick Lara Cronin’s ass all over the court in front of everyone. That is so much better than cat fighting her in the locker room.”

  Indy took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right,” Penny said. “Get dressed.”

  Five minutes later, they walked shoulder to shoulder out of the locker room, pointedly ignoring the giggles and whispers of the girls surrounding them.

  ***

  Indy didn’t know what she expected from the Harrison home, but the pretty, blue-shingled house with the basketball net in the driveway and two SUVs with Harvard and Duke magnetic bumper stickers definitely wasn’t it.

  Penny led her inside, dropping her car keys on a table next to the front door. Indy followed her past a comfortable-looking living room and up a flight of stairs, lined with photos of the Harrison kids at various ages. It was all so friggin’ normal. Indy’s eyes caught on the last picture. It looked pretty recent, maybe last Christmas, if the brightly lit tree in the background was any indication. All three Harrison kids were standing beside their parents, the perfect family.

  “Come on,” Penny said from the doorway to what Indy assumed was her bedroom. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Sorry, I was just…” Indy trailed off, following her into the room, her words failing her as the idea of being inside Penny Harrison’s bedroom hit her full force. They were only separated by a few months in age, but Penny had accomplished so much of what Indy wanted for herself. She’d thought that maybe the room would be lined with trophies and ribbons, evidence of her ridiculously successful career, but the walls were painted a soft lavender, a patchwork quilt rested across her bed and the only indication that the room’s occupant wasn’t a normal girl was the end post of her bed where dozens upon dozens of tournament player passes hung. It looked like Penny had kept every single one.

  “Okay, I’m wearing this one,” Penny said, from her closet, pulling out a hanger with a gold silk dress, “but take your pick from the rest.”

  Indy hesitated. “Why?” she asked, suddenly not quite sure this was for real.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you doing this? You barely know me.”

  Penny raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re the first girl to show up at OBX and piss people off just by walking on the court?”

  “Oh,” Indy said, feeling awful for questioning Penny’s motives.

  “Now pick something out,” Penny said, letting her off the hook.

  “Seriously?” Indy asked, approaching and staring into the closet in awe. “Where did all these dresses come from?”

  “Sponsors and events. There’s a red carpet at all the big tournaments and designers will give you a dress for free if you get your picture taken in it.”

  Indy snorted. “You mean they’ll give you a dress for free.”

  “Whatever. Just pick one out.”

  “Penny, this is a friggin’ Versace,” Indy said, pulling out a silver strapless mini-dress, intricately designed with crystal patterns across every inch of the fabric.

  “Oh,” Penny said. “Yeah, I wore that one in Australia this year.” Indy bit her lip, wondering if that meant she couldn’t wear it, but Penny shook her head. “Go for it. It’ll probably look better on you than it did on me. I left my eyeliner in the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Indy shimmied out of her shorts and yanked her tank top over her head. Carefully, she stepped into the Versace and slid it up over her hips. It fit perfectly, hugging her like a second skin. She moved in front of Penny’s mirror and smoothed down the satin against her thighs.

  “Penny, let’s go. We’re…Indiana.”

  In the mirror, she could see Jack standing in the door staring at her.

  “Hi,” she said, not turning around, but keeping her eyes locked on his through her reflection.

  “Where’s…” Jack cleared his throat. “Where’s my sister?” He took a step into the room.

  “Penny’s in the bathroom.”

  He moved closer until he was right behind her. Reaching forward, his hands ghosted over her shoulders before sliding down to the line of fabric across her back.

  “What are you…” she started to ask, but stopped as the dress tightened across her breasts. She breathed deeply at the brush of his fingertips against her skin and shivered. His eyes still held fast to hers even as his hands fell away. This wasn’t the same man who’d practically ignored her on the beach during the Athlete Weekly interview and at breakfast the other day. It couldn’t be, not with how he was looking at her.

  His eyes wrenched away from hers suddenly and stumbled back a step. “You missed a clasp,” he rasped, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

  She turned to face him. “Jack,” she said.

  “Wow, Indy, you look great,” Penny said from the door, dressed for the party. She looked like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, if Disney let the artists cut her hemline at mid-thigh and drop the back of her dress into a deep V, ending at the small of her back.

  Jack’s eyes widened in panic, but Indy stepped around him and smiled at his sister. “
Right? Thanks for the loan.”

  “No problem,” Penny said and then turned to her brother. “You ready to go?”

  “Absolutely,” Jack said, storming out of the room.

  Penny raised her eyebrows, but Indy just shrugged. “Come on, let’s finish up and go before Dom has us running Einsteins in stilettos.”

  Deuce was already packed with people when they arrived. The tables were gone and a small band played in the corner, leaving the large room open for mingling and dancing. Jack immediately stalked off to the bar, but Indy scanned the crowd, recognizing some of the best coaches from around the world, their pupils at their sides. She’d been there for five seconds and this was easily the best party she’d ever been too.

  Jasmine Randazzo was at the opposite end of the dance floor with her parents. She wore a bright pink strapless dress, cinched in at the waist and flowing down to just above her knees. Harold Hodges chatted with Mr. Randazzo, while his daughter, looking incredibly bored, crossed her arms over her chest. Just a few feet away, Alex Russell stood surrounded by a crowd of girls. Looking closer, Indy saw Caroline beside him, hand resting on his arm, dominating the conversation. The other girls looked happy enough to simply stand near him, ignoring Dom’s edict to stay away while he was at OBX. Then her coach made a beeline for the group and several of the girls scattered, including Caroline, who sidestepped him lightly and disappeared into the crowd.

  Indy laughed and looked to Penny, hoping she’d seen it as well. The other girl’s eyes were still trained in that direction, but they were wide and her hand shot out and gripped Indy’s wrist tightly. “Do not leave me.”

  Indy looked back and saw Alex stalking across the dance floor straight for them, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand.

  “Ladies,” he said, but he never even looked at Indiana. He wore a black suit that hung perfectly on his tall frame, probably made for him, but no tie and the top button of his sky blue dress shirt was undone. His ever-present five o’clock shadow was gone in favor of a close shave.