“Did you write that down, Wally?” Jay asked.
“All of it,” Wally said.
“You’re welcome,” she said to the reporters, then took a dramatic bow, before turning to Destiny. “And so are you.” Then she hop-ped off the riser and headed for the back exit, but as she walked past their row, Hank reached out and caught her arm, pulling her into the seat Destiny had vacated.
Jay didn’t argue. She sank into the chair and tilted back her head so her sandy brown hair fell away from her face. Closing her eyes and parting her lips slightly, every crease faded from her forehead and around her mouth. For the first time, Sadie noticed how young she looked, and how exhausted. That kind of tired didn’t come from the court, and it couldn’t be undone by a few days off.
“I obviously didn’t play as well as I hoped,” Destiny said into the mic, and Sadie nearly jumped out of her seat. She’d been so absorbed in watching Jay, she hadn’t heard the question, only the answer and the clipped tone in which it had been delivered.
“Are you feeling the grind of the tour already?”
“No,” Destiny said again, and several reporters shifted awkwardly in the seats until she added, “I feel fine.”
“You won the French Open last year as a junior. Are you looking forward to clay court season?”
Jay raised one eyebrow without actually opening an eye. The expression made Sadie smile, but then she immediately chided herself for allowing her attention to be diverted again.
“I don’t have a favorite season,” Destiny said.
“Do you have a least favorite surface?”
Destiny tilted her head to the side as if considering some deep, philosophical issue, and everyone waited for an answer profound enough to warrant such introspection, but when she finally leaned forward again, she merely said, “No.”
Jay snorted softly, and this time Hank joined her. Sadie’s shoulders tensed as her mothering instincts kicked in again.
“Any more questions?” Destiny asked. Thankfully, no one seemed eager to try to drag another monosyllabic response out of her, so they mercifully sat in silence long enough for her to nod her conclusion and walk off the stage. She hadn’t even hit the bottom step before the reporters moved on in their own conversations.
Sadie jumped up, and Hank followed suit, but Jay remained slouched in her chair, her long legs stretched out so they blocked the aisle. Sadie had to reach over them to give Destiny a little hug.
“Let’s go,” Destiny said coldly, as she shot some side-eye toward Jay.
Hank kicked Jay’s feet. “Come on, rock star. You’re coming to dinner with us.”
Jay cracked open an eye at him, then smiled up at Destiny. “You want me to come to dinner with you, D-jack?”
“No,” Destiny said quickly, causing Jay to laugh a deep, hearty belly laugh.
Sadie scooted past her, not even caring if she stepped on her toes, but when Jay flashed those blue eyes all the way open, she had a harder time remembering her frustration.
“Was Nancy Reagan her nanny or something?” Jay pushed herself up to her feet with a small groan. “’Cause that ‘just say no’ business is endearing for only so long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Destiny snapped.
“Hey, let’s take this somewhere more private,” Hank suggested.
Destiny planted her feet on the well-worn maroon carpet. “No, I want an answer.”
“And you’re going to get one,” Hank said more firmly, “but trust me, you don’t want to hear it here.” He gave her shoulder a little nudge and put a hand on Jay’s back, pushing them both toward the door like a dad who’d had enough lip for one night.
They both dutifully followed his command, but Destiny’s mouth twisted in a frown while Jay’s curled up smugly. Sadie followed behind, feeling out of her league once more. There was entirely too much going on beneath the surface here, and she suspected at least part of it was about to come bubbling up. What she didn’t know was how she felt about that. Releasing the pressure valve was one thing, but she had a feeling that if Destiny cut loose right now, she’d blow off a lot more than steam.
★ ★ ★
The heavy metal door had no sooner slammed behind them when Destiny Larsen whirled on her. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“Wow, language,” Jay said, as she leaned her back against the wall. “Do you let her talk like that, Mom?”
Sadie shook her head, but before she could answer, Destiny shoved an index finger in Jay’s face. “I’m not a kid. Why do you keep looking at her when I’m talking to you?”
“Maybe because she knows words other than ‘no,’ or maybe because you are legally still a kid, or maybe it’s because you’ve got a big ole chip on your shoulder that’s no fun to engage with. She, on the other hand, has one of the nicest smiles I’ve had leveled at me in a very long time, okay?”
All three of them stared at her with their jaws dropped to varying degrees, causing Jay to wonder belatedly if she might have been a bit too honest on the last count. She’d had a long day, between losing a match she should’ve won and getting a fine she couldn’t afford and taking a meeting with people she didn’t like to discuss problems that she couldn’t fix. Maybe she’d used up all of her professionalism or worn down all her guard.
“Look,” Hank finally said, “I understand why you’re frustrated, Destiny. You and Jay could not be more different in temperament, but that’s a good thing. She saved your press conference there.”
“She turned it into a sideshow. I didn’t get a single question about today’s match.”
“Did you really want to answer questions about how you melted down in the second set?” Jay folded her arms across her chest and basked in the glow of Hank’s defense.
“I wanted to talk about tennis,” Destiny said. “I always want to talk about tennis.”
“And I want to be able to teleport,” Jay retorted, then noticed Sadie wince and changed her course, if not her tone. “Tell me, out of every ten questions, how many of them are good, solid inquiries about the nuts and bolts of your game right now?”
Destiny pursed her lips and seemed to be flipping through a mental catalogue of recent press encounters. “Probably one. Maybe.”
“And how many of them are about your age? Or your mental makeup? Or your relationship with other players?”
Destiny didn’t answer right away, so Jay, picking up steam again, filled in the blank for her. “Probably eight, right? And when they ask you those questions, how many times do you manage to give them an answer longer than one sentence or, hell, even one syllable?”
“All right,” Sadie cut in. “That’s enough. She’s had a long day. I’m not going to stand here and let anyone badger her.”
“I’m sorry,” Jay snapped back. She’d had enough of the forward and back routine with both of the Larsen women. “Did I sound like I was badgering her? Because if I’d intended to, I would’ve said I’d like a cut of every advertising dollar you ever earn with the phrase ‘D-jacked,’ or ‘just say no,’ because you sure as hell weren’t coming up with that on your own.”
“I don’t think—” Destiny started.
“About anything other than tennis,” Jay finished for her. “But maybe you should start, because the way you’re playing right now, you’re not going to make enough money to keep playing tennis for very long.”
Destiny rolled her eyes, but Jay was on a roll of a different kind. “I get it, kid. You were a champ last year, but guess what? Everyone on this tour was one of the top players of their grade at one point. They’ve all got the talent, they’ve all got the drive, but not all of them have the strength or the knees or the sheer luck to go two full weeks without dropping a match. And if you can’t do that at least a couple times a year, it gets really expensive to pay for flights to Europe for you and your crew, and hotel rooms in China, and meals in New York City, and rackets professionally restrung in Morocco.”
Destiny glanced at Sadie, who s
hook her head almost imperceptibly, but Jay recognized the subtle worry lines around her eyes. She saw the same ones in the mirror every morning.
“The hard truth is that nothing lasts forever, no one gets paid to play this game at sixty-two, and everybody struggles on the court at some point, which is why you have to learn to be good in the other arenas as well.”
Hank nodded. “She’s right, Des. The press game is part of the game, too, no matter how much you hate it.”
“And most of us hate it,” Jay said softly, “but we need the reporters as much as they need us.”
“Jay,” Hank said quietly, “come on. Let’s go get something to eat. My treat.”
She managed a half smile. “Thanks, but things aren’t so bleak that I can’t afford some Holiday Inn room service . . . yet.”
He nodded again, his expression somber. “Thank you for what you did for Destiny back there.”
“What did she do?” Destiny asked, more confused than angry now.
“I helped you kick-start a brand,” Jay said, wearily, “and a good brand attracts better brands if you wield them correctly. But that’s up to you.”
“Up to her how?” Sadie sounded genuinely interested now that she was sure her daughter wasn’t under attack.
“She’s got to learn to play a different kind of game.”
“And if I don’t?” Destiny asked.
Jay shrugged and pushed off the wall, her heart aching in a way not even Sadie’s smile could soothe. “Then you’ll have to pray your time doesn’t run out before the money does.”
Hank clasped a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve still got my number?”
She forced a smile. “I’m sure I do somewhere.”
“We’ll see you in Charleston?” Sadie asked, her voice cautiously optimistic.
“I’ll be there . . . I don’t know for how long, but I’ll be there.”
“Good,” Sadie said, her smile warmer than Jay had seen it all day. “I hope we cross paths.”
“Yeah,” Jay said, feeling inexplicably lighter as she realized she did too. “We probably will.”
She thought she heard Hank give a little chuckle, but she kept right on walking. She’d had enough to mull over for one day, and she’d undoubtedly keep doing so for days to come. If she wanted to enjoy the pinprick of hope Sadie’s smile sparked in her chest, she wasn’t going to let whatever Hank was thinking undercut the last bit of joy she had left.
★ ★ ★
Charleston, South Carolina
Sadie quietly closed her laptop and shuffled some receipts into a file folder marked “Taxes.” She needed to hire a CPA to manage all of Destiny’s business expenses, but even with her limited financial experience, she could tell they really couldn’t afford one.
Destiny had lost in the first round this time, though the defeat could hardly be pinned squarely on her young shoulders. She’d had a terrible draw and ended up facing the number two player in the world right out of the gate. By all accounts, the match was one of her better ones so far. She’d held serve through much of the first set and even broken her opponent once in the second before dropping four games in a row. She’d played a stronger first match than half the women in the field, but at the end of the day, none of those facts mattered on paper.
They would get a check for about $2,500, and enough per diem to cover one hotel room and one of their flights. Nothing for Hank’s salary, nothing for Destiny’s rackets or shoes or the trip to the chiropractor this afternoon. And then, with the money left over after those bills were paid, they needed to buy plane tickets to Germany.
A soft knock sounded on the door to the adjoining room, and she heard Hank whisper, “Sadie, you up?”
She padded over to unlatch the deadbolt. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing a good stiff drink can’t fix,” he said, working a bottle of Fireball Whiskey through the door as soon as she opened it enough for him to do so.
She sighed but didn’t argue. “Okay, but Des is sleeping.”
“My place it is.” He swung his own door wider. She smiled at the sight of his bright green pajama pants covered in hot pink tennis rackets. They’d been a Christmas present from Destiny two years ago, and she wouldn’t have expected him to keep them, much less wear them.
He set two coffee mugs on the standard hotel desk and un-screwed the top to the whiskey bottle. “I’ll make yours a double.”
“What makes you think I need it?”
“Your light’s still on at midnight after the day we had, so I can only assume you’re trying to balance the budget,” he said matter-of-factly.
She sighed and took the mug he offered. “We’re going to be fine.”
“Of course we are.”
“I’ve been through worse.”
“Yes, you have.”
“I finished school and worked and paid the bills as a teenager,” she reminded herself aloud.
“And you raised a happy, healthy, well-rounded kid in the process.”
That, she was less sure about. Not the happy part. There had been happy times even during the hardships. Now, not so much. “I can’t remember the last time I heard her laugh, Hank.”
“She will again, though.”
“I don’t know. She’s not my tiny little princess anymore. I can’t just give her a quarter to ride the mechanical horse at the mall these days.”
He smiled. “You could try.”
She laughed, then hung her head. “She asked about the money tonight.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Same thing I’ve always told her, that we have enough. At least this time she didn’t suggest we call her dad.”
Hank looked at the floor.
“What, you think I should call Tad?”
He held up his hands. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh God, you don’t have to. She doesn’t have to. I think about it every time the worry lines cross her forehead. Am I doing enough? Can I give her what she needs? Is she happy? Is she growing into the kind of woman she deserves to be? Can I teach her what she needs to know on my own?”
“Hey,” Hank whispered, “she’s doing fine.”
“That’s the thing though, she’s always done so much better than fine. She excelled at everything she ever tried. Math, dance, reading, tennis. Everything she touched turned to gold.”
“Not the guitar,” Hank said with a chuckle.
Sadie grimaced and sipped her drink, enjoying the way it warmed her core. “Thank God we started flying more, so she had to leave that damn thing at home.”
“Yeah, who’d ever think I’d be so grateful for excess baggage fees.”
She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood, but every subject seemed to lead back to money. “Speaking of airlines, we’ve got enough money to get to Stuttgart, but if she loses in the first round there, I’m not sure we’ll have enough to get home.”
“Oh, we’ll get home.” He waved his hand. “Eventually our visas will run out, and they’ll deport us. We wouldn’t be allowed back in the European Union for several years, but we’d get home.”
She stared at him.
“Not helpful?”
“Not really. And don’t you dare repeat the suggestion to Destiny. She’s under enough pressure without you making her think she’s got to violate her visa and become an international criminal.”
Hank sipped his whiskey. “It’s just one option, but there’s an easier one. Well, not easier, but more legal.”
Sadie shook her head and took another hard swallow of Fireball. “I know Europe has more lax laws than we do, but if you’re going to suggest anything that involves drugs or prostitution, just don’t.”
“Wait, prostitution for you or me?”
She started to get up, but he just laughed. “I’m kidding. I intended to suggest Destiny play some doubles.”
Sadie shook her head. “On second thought, I’ll go research the drug laws in Germany.”
“Listen, I know she doesn’t
enjoy doubles as much as singles.”
“Understatement of the year.”
“But she likes winning, and she needs money. Doubles can offer her both,” Hank said, then raised his large hand to cut off Sadie’s retort. “I get that she’s an only child who doesn’t always play well with others, but the women’s doubles game isn’t as competitive as the singles pool right now, and there aren’t as many teams in the field at most of the smaller tournaments. She has a chance to go much further in the draw.”
“But won’t doubles matches and training sessions take away from the work she needs to do to stay competitive in singles?” Sadie asked. “I worry about diverting attention from the main draw right now.”
“You worry about it because Destiny has taught you to, but neither of you are her coach. I am, and I say mixing things up could be exactly what she needs.”
“I’m all for letting you make the tennis calls, but if you want to convince her, you’re going to need a stronger argument than just wanting to shake her up. She’s too driven to give up on her primary goal because she’s facing a rough patch.”
“It’s more than a rough patch, Sadie,” he said seriously.
“You said her game is getting stronger.”
“Physically, maybe, but mentally, emotionally, she’s too susceptible to the stress, and she’s losing, which makes her press harder, which makes her lose more.”
She stared down at her own hands, stark against the pure white of the mug. She couldn’t argue, no matter how much she wanted to defend her daughter. She knew Destiny well enough to understand the pressure she put on herself. “How do we break the cycle?”
“Nothing breeds winning like winning. Maybe if we could get her some wins on the doubles side, she’d loosen up a little bit in singles, too.”
“I don’t know,” she said skeptically, meaning she didn’t know about any of it. Destiny had never had much interest in doubles, and Sadie had never had any reason to push the issue. Trying to do so now seemed about like making it all the way through med school, then trying to become a mechanic. Both jobs might be about tools and hands and fixing, but the commonalities were very surface level. “Doesn’t doubles have a different space, and pace, and skill set?”
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