Page 5 of Breakpoint
She remembered walking to her mom in the tunnel after she walked off the court and giving her a hug that lasted several minutes. When they got to the locker room, her mother broke down in her father’s arms, still sweaty from the hour-long match.
“I just can’t do this anymore, Georgios. It’s not in me to bust my ass and flame out in the second round. I think I’m done.”
Her father tried to bring her back from the edge. His tall, lean form held her tighter. “Honey, it's just the adrenaline from the match talking, and we all think that after a tough loss. Let’s reevaluate after you’ve had a chance to come down from the match.”
But her mother never played in another professional tournament.
Her last match was not only a loss but a bad loss of 6-2, 6-0 to Jaz Mason.
The memory of that final match, a bittersweet blend of sorrow and inspiration, served as a constant reminder of the legacy she was now entrusted with, a legacy she intended to build upon, to honor, and to ultimately surpass.
And now she had to partner with the woman who broke her mother’s will to play. “No fucking way.” Dani shook her head.
“You don’t have a choice in this. If you want to play in the Olympics, then you partner with Jaz. End of story.” And when Tom said, ‘End of story,’ there were no other options, and the conversation was closed.
The chain-link fence vibrated with each ferocious forehand, the rhythmic thwack echoing across the quiet practice courts.
Dani leaned against the wall, watching and waiting for Tom to arrive.
He thought it would be a good idea to grab the bull by the horns and talk to Jaz now in private before it leaked to the media, likely by Chris, that they were playing doubles together.
She held her breath on the impact of each of Jaz’s shots.
With each grunt, Dani could feel the exertion and the force of her forehand against the ball.
Like Jaz, Dani loved a good grunt or scream that came out when she made contact, especially on big points.
Most people thought grunting was for show, but it was actually a way of breathing through each point.
She had seen Jaz playing dozens of times, but she still couldn’t help being captivated, her gaze glued to the figure dominating the court.
Even from a distance, Jaz Mason commanded the space.
She was practicing with Marco, her hitting partner, who traveled with Jaz to major events.
She knew he was a former pro himself and was always nice to her whenever Dani saw him on the practice courts.
He had such an easygoing demeanor, and Dani wondered why he worked for such an ice queen like Jaz.
She couldn’t wait until she made enough money to hire a hitting partner and trainer to travel with her and not have to pay some random local person that Tom found.
Jaz’s serve popped off the racket, and Dani could immediately tell why it was the best in the game.
She was lethal without saying a word. At five feet nine, Jaz was a study in athletic grace and power.
Her skin was a rich, deep ebony, smooth and flawless, and her physique was sculpted and toned.
She watched in awe as Jaz hit Marcos’ lightning-fast serves back with ease.
Every movement was a study in controlled power.
When Jaz twisted her midsection in an oblique stretch, waiting for the next ball, Dani couldn’t help but lick her lips and stare.
She had seen or walked by Jaz in the training area or locker room at big tournaments the last few months.
But really, seeing Jaz Mason up close in her element like this was a revelation. The sight was just sublime.
Her eyes, dark and intensely focused, followed the ball with laser-like precision, anticipating Marcos’ every move.
Her hair pulled back in a bun emphasized the strong lines of her face, showcasing high cheekbones and a determined jawline.
Her presence on the court was magnetic, and Dani couldn’t tear her eyes away.
She was honestly Dani’s wet dream come to life.
She could see how this woman won seventeen Grand Slam titles and countless tournaments. Most tennis players lost more than they won, but Jaz was one of the few who had won at least three times more than she had lost.
The practice session, a brutal display of precision and endurance, ended as abruptly as it began.
Jaz’s coach came over to her and whispered a few words in her ear and pointed towards Dani.
At that moment, Jaz turned towards Dani and even though her eyes were dark chocolate, her gaze was as cold as a glacier.
An unexpected shiver went down her spine at having those eyes focused on her.
Jaz gave a subtle nod and wiped the sweat off her glistening body.
Moments later, Dani found herself ushered into a small, shaded area near the back of the practice courts. Jaz was sitting down, focused on a protein shake and eating a banana .
“Hi Jaz.” Dani tried for a smile, the kind that usually disarmed even the most hardened reporters.
Her breath caught when Jaz flicked her eyes to her and gave Dani her full attention.
Jaz’s eyes examined her, sizing her up. Jaz had just had an intense practice and was likely overheated from the desert heat, but the vibe coming from her was cold.
“You’re Daniela Kappas,” she stated. Her voice was clipped, devoid of any warmth, and her demeanor impenetrable.
Jaz’s stare lasered through Dani and made her feel a bit unsettled. Flustered.
“My friends call me Dani,” she replied, sticking her hand out for an introduction, hoping to break the tension.
Jaz looked at her own hands and then at Dani’s hands, but didn’t move them to shake Dani’s. She also didn’t return the smile, and the corner of her mouth barely twitched. “So, Daniela, looks like we’re playing doubles together.”
Dani’s smile faltered. So much for breaking the ice.
“That’s what they tell me.” A glacial silence emanated from where Jaz sat, as Dani waited for Jaz to say something, anything else.
But she was content to just eat her banana.
Like she would rather be anywhere else but here, dealing with Dani.
This would obviously not be a partnership forged in camaraderie.
“Well, I’m looking forward to playing with you.” Dani pushed the words out of her mouth, both of them knowing it was a blatant lie.
Jaz, without looking up, threw the banana peel in her bag with a sharp, decisive thud. “Winning is the expectation, not just playing,” she said, her voice as cool and clipped as her movement. “I trust you understand the gravity of the situation, Daniela?”
The use of her full name again was a deliberate jab, a reminder of the vast chasm that separated them. Dani’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I get it. Gold or bust. I’m not exactly new to pressure, you know.” She regretted the petulant tone instantly, but it was too late.
Jaz finally raised her gaze. “Pressure is a privilege, Daniela,” she stated, her voice dripping with disdain. “One you haven’t yet earned the right to claim.”
Wow. Is that massive ego of yours real?
The unspoken “compared to me” hung heavy in the air. This was it. Their first encounter as doubles partners.
Dani quickly remembered who this woman was.
Jaz was known for being stoic, impenetrable, and as far as Dani knew, she didn’t have a single friend on tour.
And she had just confirmed that Jaz Mason was even more egotistical and unfriendly than the rumors around the locker room or even the media portrayed.
This was the woman who had ended her mother’s career without a second thought. Never even acknowledging the greatness that was Brittany Kappas that she was looking to equal with eighteen Grand Slams.
After standing in silence for a minute, but it felt like forever, Jaz got up to continue her practice session. Dismissing Dani and any further conversation or another word.
This bitch.