Page 3 of Breakpoint
“Feeling better, champ?” he asked, his voice a soothing balm.
Jaz grunted, a sound of pure bliss escaping her lips. “So much. Think you could just do this for, like, thenext three days?”
It was one perk of being a successful player; she got to travel with her own physiotherapist, and Scott gave the best massages. His tall frame, honed by years of disciplined exercise, moved with an effortless grace. He looked like he had been dipped in coffee, and his face, framed by a close-cropped beard, always held an air of focused intensity. His dark eyes, sharp and intelligent, missed nothing. He was an Adonis, if you were into that. Thankfully, Jaz was not. And she would not make that mistake twice by getting involved with someone she worked with.
His strong hands could soothe the most stubborn knot and always had a seemingly endless supply of kinesiology tape. He was a constant presence: stretching, massaging, and monitoring Jaz’s body with the diligence of a hawk. Scott knew Jaz’s body better than she did, anticipating aches and pains before they even surfaced. He was the guardian of Jaz’s physical well-being, the one who ensured that Jaz was always in peak condition.
“Your serve was definitely off today,” Mike murmured from the other side of the room.
“Yeah, but her court coverage was insane,” Brandon replied. “Look at those legs. Not even a hint of cramping.”
Jaz kept her eyes closed in the hole of the massage table. She didn’t even want to bring her head up to deal with this nonsense. “Guys, can we not talk about the match for a bit?”
“What’s your deal? You always want to do post-match analysis,” Brandon declared, likely from the kitchen area of their rental home.
“I’m still annoyed about the press conference,” Jaz moaned out as Scott hit a particularly rough spot.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to thirty minutes, Scott stepped back. “All done,” he announced, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’re good to go.”
Jaz sat up slowly, stretching her arms above her head. She felt like a new woman, or at least, a slightly less battered version of her old one. She swung her legs over the side of the table and reached for her water bottle, taking a long, satisfying gulp.
“You hate the whole press process on a good day, so what’s new there?" Brandon quipped.
“It was all about Daniela Kappas,” Jaz spat. “Who hasn’t made it past the quarterfinals of a single major tournament, but is suddenly a media darling. They’re obsessed with her ‘fiery spirit’ and ‘tennis royalty’ making a splash. ‘Jaz, what do you think of Daniela’s serve?’ ‘Jaz, do you feel threatened by Daniela’s rise?’ It’s annoying as fuck.”
Kira cleared her throat from the loveseat. “Jaz, you know how it is. The press loves a new story. And Daniela Kappas...” she trailed off, as if the name itself explained everything. Kira had been her agent for the last fifteen years and was a whirlwind of energy and efficiency. Standing only five feet four inches, her almond complexion and braids often made people doubt her, but armed with a phone that never seemed to leave her hand, she navigated the complex world of sponsorships, endorsements, and media appearances. Kira was the shield, protecting Jaz from the distractions and demands that came with being a global sports icon. She was also a shrewd negotiator, securing the deals that ensured Jaz’s financial future was as secure as her position atthe top.
Jaz blew out a raspberry. “Every time I answer one of their ridiculous questions about Daniela Kappas, I’m contributing to the hype. It’s like they want me to pass her the torch. Well, I’m not ready to be relegated to the sidelines just yet.” She blew out another breath. “Okay, rant over.”
Jaz felt good getting that out of her system to the people closest to her. This was her team. These people who followed Jaz around the globe were a well-oiled machine, a finely tuned ecosystem built to support one singular purpose: keeping Jaz at the top of her game. They were more than just a team; they were a mobile family, a traveling circus of highly specialized professionals who anticipated her every need, both on and off the court.
But they were also the only people she could just be Jaz with. They didn’t judge her, let her be surly when she was in a mood and didn’t care when she tuned them out because she needed some time to decompress. Yes, she paid them, but it would be lonely traveling thirty weeks out of the year, competing all over the world for a place in history, without them.
Jaz expected a ‘hell yeah,’ but no one backed her up. The room was silent. Mike finally cleared his throat, but Jaz caught his eyes looking towards Kira. He then tilted his head towards Jaz. Jaz saw the conspiratorial look between the two, and then Kira looked towards Brandon. At that moment, she knew something was up.
“What’s going on?”
“Jaz,” Kira started, “there’s been a… development.”
Her eyes snapped towards Kira. “Development? What kind of development?”
“We talked to the US Olympic committee about you playing this summer,” Kira replied, choosing her words carefully. “In addition to singles, they want you to play doubles.”
The Olympic gold medal remained a glaring omission in her glittering trophy cabinet. Four years ago, a nagging hamstring injury had kept her out of the Olympics and forced her to watch it from her couch. The four years before that were basic apathy on her part and wanting to focus on the upcoming hardcourt season. The first time she qualified in her early twenties, she was knocked out before the medal rounds. The thought of ending her career with that void gnawed at her competitive spirit. This was her final opportunity to get that elusive accomplishment. Plus, the United States was the host country, with the games taking place in Atlanta, Georgia.
She quickly rewound what she had just heard, because she must havemisheard. “Doubles?” Jaz hadn’t played doubles in over a decade. “Why would they want me to play doubles? With whom?”
She looked around at the faces of her team, wondering which one would confess what they all seemingly knew. Scott discreetly vacated the room, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Kira bit the bullet. “Well….you’ve been paired with Daniela Kappas.”
Daniela. The name hung in the air like a sour note.
“Daniela Kappas?” Jaz’s voice was dangerously low. “Are youfuckingkidding me?"
The girl who, if the reports were to be believed, was being groomed to knock Jaz off her pedestal as America’s top player. Theone the media, the sponsors, everyone, was pushing to the forefront, eager to anoint a new queen.
“Apparently, they’re going for the ‘dream team’ angle,” Mike stated, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Two prominent American players, joining forces for national glory. Good for the sport, you know.”
