"Is Andrew Locke pissing you off?"
Mia Chase asked as she watched Nora Hart juggling the ball.
Nora threw the ball and swung her racket, "Don't mention him to me, I'm disgusted."
"Someone like Andrew Locke, with all his scheming bitch moves, is definitely trying to get under your skin on purpose. The more upset you get, the happier he is. Just let it go."
"I'm so pissed off."
Nora was fuming, and the two coaches practicing with her on the court could very much feel it.
Halfway through, they were spent.
Leaning on their knees, panting, they looked at Nora.
"Are you guys any good? If not, switch out. I pay hundreds of thousands in membership fees per year, is this how you respond?"
"Go tell Sean Shaw to find someone else. Otherwise, don't blame me for wrecking this tennis hall."
"We——"
"Miss Hart, Mr. Shaw is here, do you want to wait for a moment?"
Knowing that Nora was in a bad mood today, the manager of the tennis court didn't dare to approach her.