Game. Set. Match.

by Jennifer Iacopelli

  “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 gave her a little back, 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 and I’ll be calling your parents.”

  “What? You can’t.”

  “I can,” Dom said.

  Indy rolled her eyes. The day off and a call to Mommy and Daddy. What a friggin’ slap on the wrist. She’d bet every dime she had that if the roles were reversed that punishment would be just the tip of the iceberg. No wonder Jasmine couldn’t handle losing, consequences were just a totally foreign concept.

  “Can I go?” Indy asked, starting to stand.

  “No. Sit down.” 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, as our top rising juniors, will train together, as a doubles team.”

  “Are you insane? 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 shook his head. “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 just 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 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 your father and your father called me to take care of this.”

  Indy rolled her eyes. Her dad found out she was in a fight and his first call was to her agent. Why didn’t that surprise her?

  “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 raced down the stairs, and without lifting her eyes from the floor, 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, talking to the ceiling instead. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I heard you’re punishing assault with an afternoon off and 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 how my players are disciplined.”

  “And that this player’s father is the owner of this facility has nothing to do with this so-called punishment?”

  “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 herself flat against Dom’s desk and leaned over it. “Indiana is my client and she is my business. That girl physically assaulted another athlete 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 junior girls 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 won the junior Australian Open and she’d have been given a spot 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. I think doubles will be a better experience for her, definitely more worthwhile than the junior 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. “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. 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 woman’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 at thing?”

  They both stopped yelling and faced her, gaping like they’d forgotten she was standing there.

  Dom sighed. “It was a long time ago.”

  “A very long time ago,” Caroline added, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Indy shook her head. “Whatever. 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 work,” Dom said, a smug grin spreading across his face as he looked back at Caroline.

  “Right, okay, I’m going now,” Indy said, spinning on her toe 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 were 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 just 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. As she walked, with every step what happened that morning started to hit home. She got 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 friggin’ shit. She was going to the French Open.

  Chapter 14

  May 21st

  One of the great things about being a professional athlete in the 21st century was that even when practice was done for the day, there were hundreds of other ways to train. For Penny, that often meant sitting in the cool, dark video analysis room, studying match tapes of herself and her potential opponents, breaking down strengths and weaknesses. Usually, her attention was fully focused, pulling her into a zone not unlike what happened when she was actually in the middle of a match.

  However, as she stared at the screen, trying to establish a pattern in Zina Lutrova’s shot selection, her mind drifted. Rolling her eyes, she paused the video, pulled her phone from her pocket and thumbed through the pictures Athlete Weekly had used in their article.

  A pictorial review of the biggest mistake she’d ever made and the constant distraction Alex had proved to be since then. His physical presence every single day was the sweetest torture, like nothing she’d ever felt before. So what was stopping her?

  Then someone flipped the light switch, blinding her for a second.

  “What are you still doing here?” Dom frowned at her from the doorway.

  “Just some vid-analysis.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” He nodded at the paused screen that she obviously hadn’t been even looking at, let alone analyzing. “Go home, get some rest. We’ve got a long road ahead of us once we get to Paris and an even longer season after that.”

  “Right,” Penny said, putting her phone back in her pocket and standing.

  “Pen, don’t let this press bother you, okay? None of it means anything.”

  Smiling tightly at her coach, she nodded. “You know me, Dom. Nothing to worry about.”

  Before he could respond, she hustled out of the room, down the hallway and into the atrium. It was empty at this time of night. She took a step toward the front entrance, then stopped. She didn’t want to go home where she’d have to face her family and talk about that stupid article and Alex and everything. She just needed some peace.

  She didn’t even realize where her feet were taking her until she found herself standing just outside her practice court. She stepped out onto the empty court and inhaled deeply. A breeze swirled up from the water and the salty air invaded her senses, but her shoulders were still tense, her mind still full of everything that happened that day – hell everything that happened since she found Alex in this exact spot just a few weeks ago.

  Maybe he was on to something. She lay down and closed her eyes. She was close enough to the water to hear the waves rumbling against the shore, a sound that was overshadowed during the day by voices and match noise and the general OBX buzz. A deep breath in and a slow exhale out and then another, but it wasn’t having the calming effect he promised her.

  “This was a stupid idea,” she mumbled to herself, sitting up.

  “It’s not stupid. You’re just doing it wrong.”

  Her back teeth clenched together at the distinct British accent that rang out over the soft roar of the ocean. He was standing just outside the court, leaning on the top rail of the fence.

  “Didn’t ask you, did I?” she shot back, standing up and dusting off her shorts.

  Alex raised an eyebrow at her, a smug smirk tugging at his mouth. “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know. I…Fine. Tell me what I’m doing wrong,” she said, hoping that if he got in whatever shot he wanted to take, she could escape with at least some of her pride intact.

  He hopped the fence, the chain link jangling against the frame, and approached her slowly. “You’re thinking too much. That’s your problem, Penny. You think too bloody much.”

  She refused to meet his eye as he drew closer. “So I should be like you? No thinking, no worries, just do whatever the hell I want, to hell with the consequences.”

  Alex bit out a laugh. “Consequences? What consequences? A silly article that everyone will forget about in a week?”

  “Forget it. Obviously none of it matters to you.”

  Spinning on her toe, she started to walk away.

  “That’s right,” he called out, “run away. Don’t worry your pretty little head about any of this, and in a day or two, it’ll be like none of it ever happened.”

  She wanted to keep walking, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot.

  He was right behind her now, hovering just inches away. She wanted to lean back into him, collapse against his chest and let him hold her, give in to what she’d craved since the moment they met.

  Instead, she whirled around, her hair whipping out, making him lean away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His eyes narrowed, his gaze moving from hers down to her mouth and back again. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes,” she lied, not giving an inch as he moved closer.

  “Liar,” he murmured, before lowering his mouth to hers.

  ***

  “How do you feel?” Alex’s voice rumbled in her ear. She lay draped across his chest, their bodies entwined together in the center of his bed. His fingertips traced mindless patterns over the skin of her back, making her shiver despite the heat they generated together.

  The sun rose behind the water in the distance, reflecting in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his bedroom, a spectacular sight to wake up to. She stretched against him and brushed a kiss against the sharp cut of his collarbone, trailing kisses up over his neck, his stubble scratching against her lips until her mouth hovered ju
st above his.

  “Incredible,” she said, letting her lips move against his. It felt so good to just give in, to stop fighting against what her body had been pleading for since he’d arrived. The battle against her own will had been exhausting.

  “Incredible sounds about right,” he said, as her mouth moved down his jawline again. He drew her face to his and pressed his mouth to hers in a short, sweet kiss. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  She wasn’t even sure how they made it back to his house. In a tangle of limbs, neither willing to surrender the other’s lips for longer than a moment or two, they’d stumbled off OBX property and across the beach, falling to the sand more than once. She remembered him carrying her some of the way and barely making it into the bedroom before their clothes littered the floor.

  “You fell asleep on me,” he accused playfully, running his knuckles over the curve of her hip, then opening his hand and sliding it over her waist, pulling her even closer. “I was ready to go another round.”

  “It’s been a long couple of days. I was tired,” she said, tracing a line of freckles that dotted his chest with her fingertip and watched, fascinated as gooseflesh broke out over his skin.

  “Hmm, sleepiness is weakness of character.” His hand crept down over her thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers stroking lightly over the back of her knee, sending a shiver through her entire body.

  Laughing, she snuggled closer. “You stole that.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less true,” he teased, sitting up and letting her head fall onto his pillow, before rolling away. He reached onto his nightstand, brushing aside the two empty condom wrappers, and picked up an orange plastic bottle. He shook two pills into the palm of his hand and swallowed them dry.

  “What’s that?” she asked, propping herself up on elbows.

  “Just some anti-inflammatories.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Prescription strength. Your knee?”

  Alex smirked, and before she could react, he was leaning over her, his lips brushing against hers as he said, “I had you up against that wall last night, love. Did it seem like my knee was hurt?”