Page 29 of Breakpoint
The umpire’s voice boomed across the stadium. “Game, set, match, Miss Mason. 6-4, 5-7, 7-5.”
The roar of the American crowd was a physical force, a wave that crested and crashed around Jaz as she fell to her knees on the hard court, the blue surface mirroring the cloudless Georgia sky. The red, white, and blue confetti rained down like a technicolor dream. She had carried the weight and the questions from the pundits of not having this accolade and what it meant for her legacy. She yearned for this one specific accomplishment—Olympic gold.
For years, Jaz had dominated the world of tennis. She held eighteen Grand Slam titles and several end-of-year tour championships. But people had started to whisper—was she too old? Was this chase a fool’s errand? Why had the US Olympic Committee chosen her instead of the next generation?
But Jaz had silenced the doubters. Beating Katarina Hajek, the number one player in the world. This gold medal was the one jewel she desperately needed to complete her crown and to truly be considered one of the greatest. And she had done it on home soil, no less. This win, this felt different.
As the gold medal was placed around her neck and she could see the tears glistening in Brandon’s eyes, theproud smiles of Mike and Kira in the stands. And right beside them stood Dani, tears streaming down just like Brandon, with a wide, unrestrained smile spread across her face. Dani raised her arms, cheering in celebration for Jaz.
Warmth filled Jaz as she watched Dani be in awe of her triumphs. Her pulse picked up when Dani smiled at something Mike whispered in her ear. She studied Dani’s face, noticing details she hadn’t before. The way Dani’s green eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, the small scar just above her left eyebrow, the splash of freckles across her nose that were barely visible unless you were looking closely.
As the national anthem swelled, Jaz placed her hand over her heart and tried to fixate her eyes on the American flag rippling in the breeze. But in reality, Jaz couldn’t tear her eyes away from Dani.
“Come on, Jaz,” Dani pleaded.
Jaz shook her head again. “No, Dani.”
It was the night before the closing ceremonies, and the only reason Jaz was still here and hadn’t returned to Florida was because the US Olympic Committee had asked her to be one of the US flag bearers during the closing ceremonies. It was a request and honor that she knew she couldn’t turn down.
“Jaz, you just won two gold medals. One with me, I might add.” Dani winked at her cheekily, “So we should go out and celebrate."Jaz didn't waver. "Doesn’t it ever get exhausting? Never having fun and letting your hair down. Enjoying your success?”
She rolled her brown eyes and replied flatly, “A two-million-dollar paycheck is very enjoyable, Dani.”
“First off, you didn’t get paid that much for the Olympics. Though I saw your Wimbledon check and holy fucking God, that was a lot of money.” Dani stared off into space for a moment thinking about that much cash in her bank account, but then quickly snapped her fingers. “But back to my point, we should celebrate our successes, besides, you don’t really care about the money, anyway.”
“But that doesn’t mean I want to go to a random party, Dani,” she replied and plopped back down on her couch. “I need to get ready for the hardcourt season and US Open.”
“Jaz, have you ever taken a break from training? Like, veg out on some Netflix, eat ice cream out of the carton, lie around on a couch, and do nothing? Girl, chill out and do something just for you,” Dani exclaimed. “Let's go celebrate. We just won the fucking Olympics. And for your information, it’s not a random party. One of the girls from the gymnastics team invited me. She heard about it from the track and field team. It's going to be happening in their building in the Village.”
The Olympic Village, known to the athletes as the “Village” was the temporary residential complex built during the Olympics to house the athletes, officials, and trainers during the games. Jaz had elected to stay in different accommodations along with some of the professional basketball players, but Dani wanted to stay in the Village and get the fullexperience.
Dani had definitely taken advantage of her first Olympic experience, and every day she mentioned to Jaz some new athlete she met or an event she attended. With so many events happening but also people everywhere, it was overwhelming, and Jaz pretty much stayed to herself, not wanting to deal with the crowds and craziness. But Dani was out and about, talking to everyone and making new friends at every turn. Jaz sometimes wished it came that easily for her.
“Come on, Jaz. Please, I promise it will be fun. Plus, there will be lots of famous athletes there, so you won’t really stand out. And if you really want to be inconspicuous, just put on a hat; no one will know it’s Jaz Mason.” Dani did air quotes with her fingers around her name, making Jaz laugh.
“For me?” Dani pleaded and turned her best smile on Jaz.
In that moment, as Jaz looked at her, it all made sense. That she would do anything that Dani asked her to do. “I guess. But only thirty minutes.”
“Deal! Let's go.” Dani grabbed her by the hands and pulled her off the couch.
In no time, they were there. And to Jaz’s amazement, the Olympic Village seemed to have been transformed into one big spectacle. As soon as they got to the main courtyard area, she could hear music and laughter coming from multiple locations. It wasn’t the intense place that Dani had described to her, which she said was pretty much filled with two things: anxiety and sex. She guessed that if someone put a bunch of high-performing athletes in one area, this is what you would get because release from the stress had to happen one way or another.
They bypassed athletes from Brazil, laughing loudly and dancing to a samba in the lobby of the first building they entered. Dani led them to the second floor, and music pulsed from every corner from the makeshift sound system—a phone and a Bluetooth speaker. A chaotic symphony of global beats that somehow blended into a surprisingly harmonious soundtrack for the night. Athletes mingled freely, national flags draped casually over shoulders like celebratory scarves.
Jaz wondered where security was, which she heard was tight at the Village, but she guessed they turned a blind eye. The games were essentially over and at this point everyone was letting loose. A well-deserved release after years of dedication and sacrifice. It was like a pressure valve had been released, and the Village was now throbbing with a different energy.
The drinks flowed freely. Bottles of alcohol, liberated from who knows where, were passed around, their contents drank with joyous abandon. The entire floor was a party, and Jaz saw lots of athletes, many of them really famous, way more famous than she was. She couldn’t tell if they recognized her. They either didn’t let on or just didn’t care that she was there.
They got a drink from the makeshift bar, cobbled together from coolers and strategically placed tables, that overflowed with beer, wine, and spirits likely smuggled in with the ingenuity only an Olympian could muster.
Against her better judgement, Jaz took a drink from a guy from the track & field team. He’s wearing his gold medal with pride while serving everyone booze in a red plastic cup.
As the night deepened, Jaz could admit she was having a good time. This was her first real party. She didn’t include those sponsorship events or galas after tournaments; those were work events. But this was fun just for the sake of fun, with no ulterior motives.
She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so much. A towering basketball player from Spain was attempting, with hilarious clumsiness, to limbo under a string of fairy lights, cheered on by a raucous group of fencers. Athletes, who like Jaz had spent weeks or years adhering to strict diets and curfews, now indulged without abandon. Laughter, loud and uninhibited, was the dominant soundtrack.
The music changed, and even Jaz recognized the opening chords to the song, and a collective roar went up from everyone in the room. It was Journey’sDon’t Stop Believing. As the music swelled, Dani got up and extended a hand towards her. “Come on,” she shouted over the music, “you can’t resist this!”
