“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 herefinally,” 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 topractice. 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.
PENELOPEHARRISON
MADRIDOPEN
“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 withher.
