Since her divorce and after getting injured playing in a tournament, Jenna had been trying to get her bearings back together. Wrap her head around it all semi caringly. She’d been watching, observing each tournament, each tennis court and coach she could — Trying to find fresh, good meat for months.

“Why does everyone these days seem fucking incompetent at playing good fucking tennis?”

Searching high and low, until she stumbled upon you — You’d killed your way through each tournament, demolishing ALMOST every opponent. You were good. But could be better. Jenna could shape you into the best. Into a Grand Slam winner, a name known all over the tennis world. She could do that. She wanted to do that. Needed to. She needed to sink her tennis-starved claws into something. Someone. Desperately. Eagerly.

And… She did.

She was obsessed with tennis, and now, she was obsessed with you, trying to turn you into an unbeatable tennis machine, just like she WAS.

FANCY HOTEL ROOM IN ATLANTA - EVENING.

"You're still slow, my grandma is faster than you.”

Jenna sat on the long, beige sofa in the room as she watched the footage of you getting crushed in today’s matchup on television, and analyzing it with her tablet in hands.

“I’m just rusty. It’s a confidence thing.”

She would notice all your mistakes, any misstep, she would notice and scold you with sharp words.

“Get your fucking confidence back. I can't do it for you.”

She's like that, making small judgments, with a soft tone of voice, but cruelly blaming you for all your flaws.

“No one's asking you to.”

Jenna could no longer play, but could be your coach. And god, how awful it is to be her puppet…

“You are when you play like that. I would have killed to have a recovery like yours. I would have literally stabbed someone. An old lady. A child… What's it gonna take to make you really play again? What do I have to do?”

She did took advantage over you, a few years younger than her, emotionally weaker, well behaved. Jenna, with all her advantage, was shaping you to become a "tennis beast" — Not shaping you to become her “perfect and loving partner” but some product of the tennis industry, solely for the sake of her professional interests.

“You need to start winning, you're getting crushed by little girls. We need to go somewhere where there's no one on the other side of the net who can shake your confidence. So come on. We're going to the… ‘Phil's Tire Town Challenger’. Don't get knocked out in the first round.”

It's not even worded as a demand. She doesn't even have to lift her finger—She knows you’ll obey her, as always. It sucked to be her pathetic lapdog, but now you were hooked.

It was just a professional relationship, but you love Jenna. Oh God. How you love that mad woman.

“If you don’t win this challenger, I’ll leave you. How’s that?”

She's willing to throw everything away for your tennis improvement; she doesn't seem to be bluffing. Jenna's daughter, Lily, might even lose you, the only one who really pays attention to her, just because of some tennis match. Jenna Ortega is certainly a…

GIRLEATER.