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Just one serve.

Ava’s arms lifted and rocketed the ball across the court. As it careened toward Mac, she ran to the left corner of the service box and smashed it back. The crowd stayed silent with each hit, their heads swiveling to follow the ball as Mac and Ava traded blows.

Even after one serve, Ava was slower than expected. After sending Ava to the far right corner, Mac sent her to the left on the next hit. The ball was just out of reach and bounced to the back wall.

“Love, fifteen.” The umpire called.

The crowd cheered for Mac. It wasn’t enthusiastic, but it was just enough to give Mac the boost she needed.

Ava fought like a warrior for the first two sets, pushing herself to reach for Mac’s returns. But Mac was a relentless force, drawing her from side to side each hit. In the final set, with the match locked up at 5-4, Mac only needed one more point to win the game and therefore the match.

It was Ava’s serve. With a pained grunt, she sent the ball over the net, managing just over a hundred miles per hour. Mac met the serve with ease, and hit it back to Ava’s baseline. Ava groaned with each stride, hitting the ball back as best she could.

As the ball hurtled toward her , Mac harnessed all of her remaining energy. Squeezing her core, she let her racket fall into position and swung through. Apopfilled the court as the ball bounced off the racket and flew back to Ava. This time, the ball was just too far away. Ava dug deep, kicking up orange dust as she dove for the ball. Just before the ball was out of reach, she swung, making contact. But she didn’t have the leverage to aim it properly, and the ball slammed into the net.

“Match, Miss, Bennett,” the umpire called.

Ava shook her head, disappointment washing over her face. But if Mac wasn’t wrong, there was a look of pride lingering in Ava’s eyes.

Jogging up to the net, Mac reached out her hand and pulled Ava into a hug. She lowered her voice, “Ava, I’ve watched you since I was a kid. Playing you was an honor. You’re a fucking legend.”

Ava patted Mac’s back, lowering her head. “Thank you.” They broke from their hug as Ava approached the umpire and shook his hand. Mac followed suit before turning back to the crowd whose reluctant enthusiasm rose with each set. Now, they happily cheered for Mac’s first round victory.

She lifted her hand and waved as the crowd cheered. But all she really wanted was to see her mom. Finding Piper in the crowd, Mac smiled at her mom who had covered her mouth in awe. Trying to soak it in, Mac quieted the part of her mind that wanted to go back to the locker rooms and recover. Instead, Mac scanned the crowd, taking in their excited faces and listening to their applause.

One serve at a time.

8

Taylor

“Goddamnnit!”Kimberly’s voice echoed through the Eiffel Tower Suite as her hand slammed into her desk. Mac had just scored the winning point in her third round.

Taylor crossed her arms as Kim stormed around the hotel room. “It’s fine, Mom. Bennett will get out in the fourth. And if she doesn’t, I’ll kick her ass in the quarterfinals.”

Kim’s face wrinkled into a snarl. “She’s anobody. You shouldn’t even have to play her. Barbara probably bought her a spot.”

Turning away from her mom to face the Paris skyline, Taylor rolled her eyes. There was no denying that Taylor was always a better player than Mac. But that didn’t mean Mac wasn’t a strong competitor. Taylor could never point that out to Kim, though; not if she wanted to leave this room with her head attached.

Kim drummed her fingers against her crossed arm. “I’m going to have Carl dig up dirt on her.”

Taylor scoffed. “I think we’ve done that to her plenty.”

Whipping her head around, Kim glared at Taylor. As soon as she felt the heat behind that scowl, Taylor knew she should have kept her mouth shut. But her chest tightened at the thought of Mac’s personal life being ripped to shreds by the Youngs once again. She already wished she could have stopped it the first time.

Trying to recover herself, Taylor waved off her mom. “I’m just going to beat her. I know every one of her techniques, I’ve watched her matches. I can handle her.”

Kim sucked her teeth as she walked closer to Taylor. “Fine. But if you disappoint your family name and let that…” she nodded to the screen playing highlights of Mac’s match, “…beat you, we will be having a serious discussion about your future. Understood?”

“Yes.” Taylor’s jaw twitched.

Once Kim turned away, Taylor knew she was dismissed. Eager to get away from her mother, she marched for the door, pressed the elevator button, and went down to the lobby.

The door slid open to a hectic ground floor. Each day it got busier and busier. As the players progressed through the bracket, the press began hanging around, hoping to schedule interviews.

Taylor kept her head down as she walked across the lobby into Taylor’s favorite restaurant in the hotel, L’Orangerie. As soon as the hostess saw her, Taylor was led wordlessly to her table in the far corner. Even in her more casual outfit, the staff would recognize her anywhere. And to be fair, it was obvious that even her casual jeans and t-shirt were designer.

As they weaved through the restaurant and away from the entrance, the ruckus of the bustling lobby was quickly replaced with soothing, live piano. Taylor felt her shoulders relax a bit as the round, marble table came into view. This was her favorite spot in the restaurant – right next to a wall of tall, roundedwindows that overlooked a naturalistic courtyard. Back here, no one would bother Taylor.