The atrium was empty when she arrived at OBX, aside from Roy, his nose buried in his newspaper as usual. Jasmine made a beeline for Dom’s office, knowing he usually set aside mornings for paperwork. As she climbed the stairs, she had to move aside for Penny, who nodded at her quickly, and Alex Russell, trailing behind, his eyes boring into the back of Penny’s head.
“Jasmine,” Dom said from behind his desk as she entered his office. He motioned for her to take a seat. “What can I do for you?”
She ignored him. “You know why I’m here.”
Dom pinched the bridge of his nose. “That damn article. I wish I’d never agreed to it.”
She nodded, but Dom’s regrets were the least of her worries.
“Was he right?” she asked.
He leaned forward, rubbing his face with both hands, before looking at her again. “Jasmine, you’ve got to understand, Hodges wasn’t writing about how you performed in the tournament, at least not entirely. You did a great job against your competition, and that final match, well no one saw that coming.”
“Then what was he writing about?”
Dom paused, pulling his lips into a thin line.
Jasmine felt her knees shake and she let herself sink into a chair across from him. “You agree with him.”
“No.” There was no hesitation, and Jasmine felt a little better, but he still hadn’t given her a straight answer. “I think his analysis was shortsighted at best.”
“Then what? Either I have what it takes or I don’t.”
“It’s not that simple. The tennis world isn’t black and white. You’ve worked so hard all these years to try and measure up to your parents.” She started to protest, but Dom kept talking. “Don’t deny it. I’ve known you since you were seven years old. I know you want to prove to the world that you’re every bit the tennis player the daughter of Lisa Vega and John Randazzo should be.”
“But I’m not,” she finished for him. “Is that what you’re saying? That I’m not as good as my parents?”
“I’m saying that not everyone is top ten material, Jasmine. Not everyone is going to win Grand Slams and Olympic medals.”
“Not me, you mean.”
“Not yet. You’re only twenty years old. You have to giveyourself some time. You can still have a very good career. You’ve got a great head for the game and you’re a hard worker.”
His words didn’t have much meaning in that moment. The whole world expected greatness from her. Good, in the face of those expectations, wasn’t good enough.
“Thanks,” she said, leaping up from her seat and striding to the stairs.
“Jasmine,” Dom called, but she didn’t turn back. She didn’t need Dom to see her cry. It would be one more thing to add to the list of her faults as a player: emotional basket case.
She raced down the stairs and flew through the atrium toward the women’s locker room. There was a maintenance man standing at the end of the hallway, a small power drill pressed into the wall. The shrill whirring of the drill bit securing Indy’s victory plaque into the Title Wall was worse than nails on a chalkboard, setting her teeth on edge. She swiped under her eyes, forcing the tears back. After stalking past him into the locker room, she changed into her training clothes and marched out to the practice courts. OBX was in full swing, courts packed with players and coaches.
“Bene, Indiana, keep your feet moving. No hesitation. Bene,” Coach D’Amato said as Jasmine stepped onto the court where Indiana Gaffney and the others were on an agility course meant to increase stamina and improve footwork. Jasmine felt her stomach clench. The OBX Champion was getting better, doing what she needed to do to win again.
“Nice job, Indy,” Lara called from the line of girls at the baseline.
Indy skidded to a halt as she finished her agility run, then turned and nodded, but didn’t say anything as she went to the back of the line.
“Ah, Jasmine. Eccellente. Join us.” Coach D’Amato greeted her with a sharp nod. “I will be right back and then you girls will play a set.”
Jasmine blinked in total confusion as her coach left. She was late, but D’Amato hadn’t said anything about Einsteins. Did they really think she was that much of a lost cause? No sense in making her run, because it wouldn’t make her any better. She turned to Indy, whose mouth twisted into a pout, but obviously Indy couldn’t come up with anything to say, so she just shrugged.
Jasmine tried to ignore it, how easy it was for Indy to shrug and dismiss it, just like it had been easy for her to show up and win the tournament Jasmine had been working toward for years. Just like it was easy for her to make Teddy…
Fuck it. She couldn’t think about that. She was here to train.
She took her spot at the front of the line and ran through the agility course, as familiar to her as breathing after years training with Coach D’Amato, her shuffling feet controlled and smooth as she completed the short circuit. She finished up and then made her way to the back of the line, but as she did, her foot tangled with someone else’s.
She stutter-stepped, catching herself just before wiping out entirely, and then she whirled around to see who’d tripped her.
