“Why’s that?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the TV, where Lutrova had three match points.
“Why don’t you check the pizza and you’ll find out,” he said, shoving the box into her hands.
“Fine, but it’s not like I can actually eat any…” Her voice trailed off as she took in the pie, pepperoni across the center spelling out the wordNIKE. She looked up at Jack then down to the pizza and then to Jack again. “Are you serious?”
“Got the phone call a half hour ago. They’ve upped their offer and totally blew away everyone else’s. It’s exactly what we’ve been hoping for. They want you to be the new face of their tennis line. They’re calling you America’s Sweetheart,and if you fulfill even a few of the incentives in this contract, it’ll be worth close to fifty million dollars.”
It took a moment for Jack’s words to sink in. Nike wanted her and they were willing to invest a huge amount of money to get her. Suddenly Alex Russell and his twinkling eyes and Zina Lutrova and her powerful groundstrokes didn’t matter.
“This is… I can’t…” She trailed off, tears starting to burn at the corners of her eyes. This deal wasn’t only about her; it was about her family, too. If she was careful and invested wisely, that kind of money would ensure her children’s grandchildren would never have a financial worry a day of their lives, her parents could retire comfortably, and Teddy could have whatever kind of car he wanted. “Thank you, Jack. Thank you so much!”
“Don’t thank me. This is all you,” he said, picking out a piece of pepperoni from the pie and smirking at her as he chewed.
“Oh, shut up,” Penny said, grabbing him into a huge bear hug, the pizza forgotten as it slid off her lap and onto the floor.
THE MUSCLES IN JASMINE’S FOREARM QUIVERED AS SHE HITyet 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 attackedthe 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 racketthwacksechoing 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 atAddison. 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 fromAthlete Weeklyis 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?”
