Driven

Driven

Written by: Susanne Beck and TNovan

Disclaimers: Nothing really to disclaim. These characters and the story surrounding them are owned by the authors and may not be reproduced without their express written consent. There are bits of naughty language scattered here and there, as well as several tasteful, yet graphic, scenes of love between two consenting human beings of the same gender. Those offended by any of the above are welcomed to click the little red “X” at the top of their viewscreen and shut themselves of this story forever.

For those of you who are intrigued, we invite you to read further.

This story is complete (though it took over three years to write) and will be posted in four large parts over the succeeding days. We hope that you will enjoy.

This story is dedicated to all the fans on the swordnquil message list. Without your constant and heartfelt requests for more, this novel might never have been finished. You all rock to the nth degree. Thank you. And to MaryD, the Pallas Dylan “The Goddess” Lambert of the Xenaverse Website world. Thanks!!

DRIVEN

Richard Mac MacKenzie liked to think of himself as a lucky man. And so he would tell you, if ever you were unfortunate enough to be pinned in the corner with him at a cocktail party.

And if there had ever been a sub-species of the genus Homo Sapiens, he might even have been correct in his assessment. Born to a poor, but loving family in the steel town of Gary, Indiana, Mac had one thing that made him stand out from the rest of the steelworkers? sons he called friends.

The genes of a six foot six inch father ran through his veins, awaiting adolescence?s beckoning call.

Though topping out at an inch shorter than his father?s not inconsiderable height, Richard parlayed his genetic gift into a ?full ride? scholarship to Indiana University, where he took his lumps, both literal and figurative. Drafted in the later rounds by his hometown team, the Indiana Pacers, he had himself a decent NBA career, in longevity, if nothing else. The classic story of small town boy makes good.

Where others would have been content to rest on their laurels after their playing days were over, lending their names to fast food restaurants or strings of car dealerships, and telling their glory stories in local watering holes for an Old Milwaukee, Mac knew that sometimes lucky men made their own fortune.

So he took his years of basketball experience, combined it with his IU business degree, and jumped in on the sub-basement level of a business venture that had the mark of three-day old road kill writ large all over it.

And that venture was known, to the few who cared, as the Women?s Basketball League, though its initials were more often translated to form such witticisms as the ?What Basketball? League? or the ?Wobbling Boobs League? to mention two of the more repeatable ones.

To say what the WBL was on its last legs when Mac climbed aboard would have been a bit of an understatement. Caught between the rock of dyke drama, the hard place of ?Family Values?, and the black hole of fan ennui, the Women?s Basketball League was an elderly matron with one foot in the grave, and the other on a banana peel.

But, as Mac was quick to tell everyone within hearing distance, lucky men jumped head first into shit heaps and came up smelling like roses.

Mac?s particular shit heap bore the title ?General Manager of the WBL Louisiana Lightning.?

His rose was Pallas Dylan Lambert. Also known as ?the Goddess?, a play on both her name and on her skills.

A basketball phenom since her elementary school days, Dylan graduated from UCLA holding over one hundred school records, as well as national collegiate records in several scoring categories. If, upon graduation, she wasn?t the best woman?s basketball player ever, she was certainly far ahead of whomever was in second place.

The fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous didn?t hurt matters either. Six feet, three inches of wiry muscle and feminine curves, topped by a halo of jet black hair and eyes so blue they glowed, she had the face that launched a thousand dreams, many of them wet.

Ordinarily, Mac and the Lightning would never have had a shot at the only player worth drafting, but a lucky man is a man with foresight, and Mac had shown just such prescience the year before by trading two of his better forwards to the worst team in the league in return for a journeyman player he didn?t need, and a number one draft pick he did.

A quick trip to the podium on draft day, and the woman who would come to be known to the world as Ms. Michael Jordan was his.

Dylan didn?t disappoint. She was every bit the player advertised, and then some. With a strong work ethic, astounding beauty, and phenomenal skills on the court, she elevated women?s basketball to a level never before dreamed of, let alone seen.

And soon, people began to take notice. Talk spread, in small circles at first, that maybe the WBL wasn?t quite as dead as it seemed. Dylan?s name began popping up in casual conversation almost as fast as her face popped up on the covers of all sorts of magazines, from torrid tabloids, to sporting journals, to such bastions of feminine fare as McCall?s, Mademoiselle, and Redbook.

As fans began to return to the arena in droves to see this new wunderkind, the endorsement deals began to roll in. Not only from the traditional standbys such as cosmetic and feminine protection companies, supporters of women?s sports for years, but real endorsements, from the famous makers of athletic apparel and sporting goods long known for their unsubtle wooing of whatever male athlete was hot at the moment.

Dylan took it all in stride, carrying the league on her broad shoulders and vaulting them all up through the glass ceiling and into the stratosphere of popularity, money, and celebrity.

A lucky man knows, however, that into every life a little rain must fall.

Mac?s storm cloud burst upon him in all its glory during the summer Olympics. The American Women?s Basketball Team had the gold medal won before they even left their own shores, and win it they did, but at a cost almost too high for any of them to pay.

The gold medal game was between the USA and Russia, a match up reminiscent of the famous men?s games back before the Berlin Wall came tumbling down. As games went, it was a laugher, with the USA leading by almost forty points before the first half had even run out of minutes.

By all rights and common good sense, Dylan should have been warming the bench by the time the forth quarter rolled around. Fifty points was a lead even a group of vertically challenged pre-schoolers wouldn?t have problems holding onto. Especially with only four minutes left.

But America wanted to see her Goddess in action, and with just a minute and a half to go, disaster struck, as if from Mount Olympus itself. The Russians, who weren?t taking kindly to being used as cannon fodder, assembled quickly downcourt, and Dylan found herself pinned between two monoliths with murder in their eyes just as she?d gone up for one of her infamous jams.

When the dust cleared, the monoliths were out cold, and Pallas Dylan Lambert?s playing career was over.

When she woke up from surgery that pinned her broken femur, and repaired her ruptured Achilles tendon and shredded ACL, she was told that she might never walk again, and certainly not without a limp.

She proved them wrong, using the same focus and intensity of purpose she?d always employed to get what she wanted. Long before even the experts thought it was possible, she was not only walking without a limp, she was also running, and juking, and jumping, making it clear to one and all that she would be back as good as ever.

And that might have been true, had not her custom-made knee brace chosen to fail during what should have been a routine warm-up. Her still healing joint gave out, dumping her to the ground as her newly repaired and suddenly overstressed ligaments went the way of her brace and tore themselves to shreds once again.

The corrective surgery was simple enough, but when it was over, Dylan was left with one message.

Do it again, and you could lose your leg.

The owners of the Lightning, a consortium of old money gents from the deep south, panicked. Their team had held the championship title for five years, and if a sixth wasn?t a sure bet, a great number of people would be very angry. And anger from some of the more notorious investors would mean a great deal more than a nasty fan letter or two. Dark haired men in darker suits were experts at making their disappointments disappear. Permanently.

The fact of the matter was, however, that without their superstar, the Lightning was a mediocre team at best, more than capable of bringing up the league?s rear in any given season. The owners had become so miserly and lazy after Dylan?s signing that they hadn?t even drafted a competent backup for her, despite Mac?s loudly voiced objections, and instead spent their money on a plethora of short guards who were of no use to them now.

Seeing this, the rest of the league?s teams licked their chops like a pack of ravenous wolves with a dying elk in their midst. Trade offers were cut off at the knees as owners and general managers rubbed their hands together with glee, convinced that their ships had finally come in.

All, that is, except for one.

The Birmingham Badgers was a rookie expansion team chock full of cast-offs, over-the-hill rejects, and mildly promising rookies long on potential and short on experience. They weren?t planning on making any upward moves in the next few years, but no one seemed to mind. The Badgers had two things in abundance; money and time. What they didn?t have was a coach.

Thus, the wheels were set in motion for a trade the likes of which had only really been seen in the NFL. The Badgers dealt two of their power forwards?a crafty, if slow, veteran, and a young, somewhat talented rookie, plus their number four pick in the draft, all for the services of Pallas Dylan Lambert as the Badgers? new head coach.

When Mac heard the news, he came as close to having a stroke as he hoped he?d ever get. All of his arguments, and he made quite a few, fell on deaf ears.

He tendered his resignation the day the deal was signed.

The Badgers accepted him with open arms the next day.

Which was why, two years later, he found himself sitting in the crowded stands at Madison Square Garden, watching Dylan Lambert watch ten young women run up and down a basketball court during the final game of the NCAA Women?s Basketball Championship.

The game itself was an entertaining one, with the number one ranked University of Connecticut Huskies going up against the number two ranked University of Tennessee Lady Vols. The lead had changed hands two dozen times and halftime was still five minutes in the future. The young players were giving it their all, both for the glory of their schools, and for the eyes of whatever professional scouts happened to be watching.

Shifting uncomfortably in a seat much too small to hold his generous frame, Mac turned to his left to study Dylan?s profile as she stared, with hawk-like intensity, down onto the court. From the corner of his eye, he could see several fans staring at Dylan and whispering among themselves. Thus far, his glares had been enough to warn them off, but he knew that wouldn?t be the case for long.

Since her playing career had ended, Dylan?s public appearances had dwindled down to almost nil, by choice. Even so, she was a bigger draw than even the game the fans had paid good money to see, and things could get sticky for them both.

He shifted again. ?Dylan??

The piercing gaze swung his way, all put pinning him to his seat. Even after eight years, he still wasn?t used to it.

He cleared his throat and tried again. ?Do you think we could get back up to the Sky Box now? They?re starting to watch you more than the game.?

He breathed a sigh of relief when Dylan?s gaze swung away to casually scan the crowd, then tightened up again when she looked back at him, a smirk firmly in place on her face.

?Aww, c?mon, D.,? he rushed on, desperate to get her to see things his way. ?Remember last time you were out like this? They practically had to call in the National Guard to get us out of the mob scene! I?ve still got fingernail marks in places fingernails were never meant to be.?

?You can go up if you want.? Her voice was deep and warm, holding a slight note of affectionate teasing.

?Dylan?Mr. Johnson spent good money for that box. Don?t you think it would be a good idea to at least pretend you?re enjoying his generosity?? He knew he was whining, but somehow, he couldn?t seem to stop himself.

?Going corporate on me now, Mac?? The teasing note turned a bit wry, and Mac held back a wince by sheer will.

?You know that?s not true, D. It?s just?this crowd?s making me a little antsy, y?know??

Dylan?s gaze swung away again, looking over the crowd. The intensity in her eyes caused all but the most ardent admirers to blanch and turn away. Her smirk broadened. ?I?m comfortable where I am, Mac. G?wan back up. I?ll be along in awhile.?

?Excuse me, Dylan, but no way. If you?re so set on staying in the lion?s den, I?m staying with you. Somebody?s got to watch your back and it might as well be me.?

Shaking her head, Dylan turned her attention back to the court just as the halftime buzzer sounded. As the players began to file back toward their locker rooms, she leaned back in her seat and opened her program, idly leafing through its glossy pages.

Only when she noticed Mac?s tension reach the breaking point did she deign to look up. A large group of fans was headed purposefully in her direction and gaining steam as word spread swiftly that ?the Goddess? was in their midst. Mac stood quickly, edging his burly body in front of her for protection. Though only an inch taller, he was double her weight, and would have made an effective shield if she had let him.

But Dylan Lambert was born knowing how to play the game, and with a smile more manufactured than genuine, she stepped from behind her living wall to greet her adoring public. Pulling a Sharpie from the inside pocket of her leather trench, she accepted the first program with grace and scrawled her signature before handing it back and accepting the next.

As if from behind a broken dam, the programs, basketballs, trading cards, T-shirts, hats, and the occasional bit of bared flesh came under the heavy caress of her pen. On and on it went until finally the arena?s security guards filtered down and dispersed the crowd back to their seats.

Heaving out a relieved breath, Mac plopped back down in his seat and took out a handkerchief, mopping his sopping brow. ?God, I hate this shit,? he muttered, half under his breath.

Dylan gave him a fond clap on the shoulder, then turned back to the court as the players filed out from their locker rooms. Her gaze immediately zeroed in on one young woman from the Huskies who effortlessly caught a rifle-pass from her teammate and made a sweet shot from just past mid-court. Her teammates cheered as the ball went through the basket without touching the rim, and the young shooter pumped her fist as she ran toward the basket to rebound.

Dylan smiled.

Mac straightened in his seat when he saw that smile bloom, and squinted against the bright lights in an attempt to see what had generated such an expression. It was an impossible task.

?What?? he finally asked.

Dylan turned away after a moment, and quickly leafed through her program until she came to the page she wanted.

?Her,? she said, tossing the program on his lap.

Mac looked down to see a fresh-faced, attractive green-eyed blonde woman staring back up at him, the grin on her face an interesting mixture of sweetness and deadly intensity. As he scanned her statistics, his heart first rose, than sank as her name rang a bell.

?Dylan??

?She?s the best point guard in the game, Mac.?

?She?s also five foot five!?

?So? There are at least ten others in the league her height, and they?re doing just fine.?

?Yeah, but the difference is that those teams didn?t have any choice but to draft them! You?ve got the number one pick and a whole slew of point guards to choose from, Dylan! Why not Keisha Brown? She?s got a sweet shot, and she?s four inches taller!?

?Lousy attitude.?

Mac sighed. ?Well, what about one of the Jackson twins??

?Lazy.?

?Both of them??

?Both of them.?

?Nissa Tomalin? You have to admit she?s an outstanding player.?

?Sure she is. It?s her personal life that?s gone to hell.?

?She beat that rap, Dylan.?

?No.?

?But??

?I said no, Mac. Catherine Hodges is the one I want. She?s got class, she?s got game, and she?ll make the Badgers into winners.?

Mac opened his mouth, then closed it again. What he had to say next made him feel all kinds of a bigot, but it needed to be said nonetheless. ?Dylan?she?s gay.?

The blue eyes that turned to him had an expression that made his balls shrivel up. ?Who she sleeps with is not my concern, Mac. What she does on the court is.?

?It might not be your concern, Dylan, but did you forget about the man who owns this team? The man who is, on issues like this, so far to the right that Pat Robertson looks like a Commie standing next to him? He?ll never go for this, not in a million years.?

?My orders are to turn this team into a winner. Without Hodges, that won?t happen. Period. Either he wants to win, or he wants to be an asshole. It?s his choice.?

?Dylan??

Dylan turned in her seat, facing him directly, clearly annoyed. ?Listen, Mac. You?re the General Manager. So do your goddamn job and convince him that I?m right on this.?

?How can I do that when I?m not even sure you?re right?!?

Dylan?s long arm flung out wide. ?Look at her, damnit! Look at her play, then tell me with a straight face that there is anyone out there who even comes close to her.?

Though technically her superior, Mac knew an order when he heard one, and so obediently turned to watch the game in progress. Not more than a minute later, the diminutive Husky stole ball from her opposing point guard, dribbled the length of the court and fed a no-look pass to her trailing forward that would have made some members of the NBA green with envy.

Mac?s shoulders slumped. Dylan was right. Again. And though he loved her like the daughter he never had, he hated it that she was always right.

Dylan had the good grace not to smirk as Mac conceded his defeat by standing, head lowered. ?I?ll talk to him, D. God knows I can?t promise anything, but I?ll talk to him.?

Her acceptance was gracious. ?Thank you,? she said, simply and sincerely.

He nodded. ?Now, will you please come up to the box with me???

Grinning, she rose easily from her seat, twitching her coat into place and stepping into the aisle. As Mac began to climb the stairs toward the sky boxes, Dylan turned to stare, one last time, down onto the court, eyes narrowing as they tracked Catherine Hodges the length of the court and back.

Her smile bloomed again.

Catherine Frances Hodges, known as Hodge to her teammates, felt herself being carried along in the flow of an overjoyed crowd, heading back to the locker room. The cheers of the audience could still be heard in the background, but they were fading quickly, drowned out by the whoops and hollers of the players and staff making their way down the long, brightly lit hall.

Hodge could only grin like the cat that ate the canary as she toweled her face dry, made wet from the combination of sweat and some liquid that had been dumped on her when her teammates and most of the fans charged the court.

?Phe-fucking-nominal Hodge!? Kellie Wilkes, six feet of exuberant center, easily lifted the much shorter Hodges off the ground and carried her the rest of the way to the locker room.

As they burst through the door, the rest of the team and staff renewed their catcalls and cheering.

?Our hero!? Kellie yelled, spinning her friend around several times before returning her to the floor.

?Oh please,? Hodge grinned, trying to scrub the blush from her face as she waited for the world to stop spinning around her.

?Oh please is right!? Tonya Burns, power forward, stepped into the fray with a hairbrush-cum-microphone in her hand. ?So, Catherine Hodges, your last second shot at the buzzer has taken you team into the history books with an NCAA Championship. What are you gonna do next??

The small player laughed and looked at her friends standing around her. ?I?m going to Disneyland!?

The room roared with laughter as congratulations continued to circulate. Each person took their turn clapping Hodge on the back, or snapping her rear end with damp towels, to the general hilarity of all.

Though she enjoyed the adulation of her teammates, and the pure adrenaline rush that came with winning the long-coveted title, Hodge found herself wishing for a shower. She was hot, she was sweaty, and she was sticky, and as soon as she found out who had upended a jug of Gatorade over her head, there would be hell to pay.

Until that time, however, a little alone time in a nice hot shower would do the trick nicely. Managing to slip away, she headed for the showers and was soon delighting in the feel of the hot water pounding her body and loosening muscles just beginning to stiffen. Bracing herself against the wall, she dropped her head and just let the water beat her neck and shoulders.

?Oh Hodgie??

She groaned at the singsong sound of her name. Slowly she raised her head, spitting out the water flowing over her face. Opening her eyes she saw Marlie Edgars, one of the assistant coaches, grinning at her with an ?I?ve got a secret? expression.

?What?s up, Coach??

?Did you by any chance notice who was in the crowd tonight??

?I was kinda busy, Coach. You know, playing and all??

?Smart ass. C?mon, try to guess.?

Grabbing the towel her coach held out to her, Hodge sighed and began drying her hair. ?Hmmm about 35,000 of our biggest fans??

?34, 999 of our biggest fans and,? she paused, grinning from ear to ear, ?The Goddess.?

The towel was slowly lowered from her face, and a wide eyed kid looking every bit of twelve stared back at the coach. ?You?re kidding me.?

?Nope. She was mid court, a few rows above floor level. Watching you like a hawk, short stuff.?

Hodge snorted. ?Right, Dylan Lambert was here scoping out my talent tonight.? Green eyes rolled. ?Come on Coach I won the game, why do you have to torture me??

?I?m serious Hodge. Lambert was here and she was taking notes.?

?You are serious,? Hodge replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

?As a heart attack, kid.?

?Ohhhh shit!?

The coach grinned. ?Congratulations, Kitty Cat. You just might be the first to go come draft day.?

So struck was she with the news, Hodge actually let the coach get away with using her detested nickname, which was, in and of itself, a minor miracle.

Edgars? smile faded slightly, and she snapped her fingers in front of the young player?s face. ?Hodge. Hodgie. Anybody home in there??

?Huh?? Catherine?s head came up with a snap, and she blinked as if coming out of a daze.

?The press is gonna be coming in soon, kid. I know you could use the exposure, but I don?t think this is exactly the sort you had in mind. Maybe some clothes…??

Hodge visibly drew herself together. ?Uh..yeah. Right. Stall them for me, will you??

?Sure, kid. And Hodge??

?Yeah, Coach??

?You were damn good out there. Way to go.?

Hodge?s smile threatened to split her face. ?Thanks, Coach.?

Dylan tossed her keys on the small table to the right of the door, shifting out of the way as her two dogs, Siegfried and Brunhilde, bounded past and chased each other around the large foyer. Rolling her eyes at their antics, she stooped to retrieve her mail, idly leafing through the envelopes as she made her way through the parlor and into the rarely used kitchen.

?Junk, junk, a nasty letter from Manny, junk, and more junk.? Tossing the mail down on the chef?s island, she looked down at the dogs who were sitting at attention, awaiting their nightly meal. ?Haven?t I taught you to kill the mailman yet??

The large Dobermans stared back at her, heads cocked. Dylan snorted. ?Some guard dogs you are.?

After filling their bowls with kibble, Dylan exited the kitchen and walked into the large, tastefully appointed living room. Chrome, glass, and modern art dominated the room, but did little to detract from its almost sterile air. Grabbing the remote from one chrome and glass end table, she switched on the large flat screen television which stood proudly between the two huge French doors facing the back of her property.

ESPN was replaying the closing seconds of the game she?d just seen, and she paused for a moment to watch Catherine Hodges sink the winning bucket as time expired. ?Oh yeah,? she said softly to herself. ?She?ll do nicely.?

A glance down at the phone caused her smug grin to fade. ?Twenty two messages. Christ.? One long finger flipped through the caller ID display, deleting messages and the phone numbers attached to them with impunity. It was only when she got to the fifth call from Manny Blum, a pain in the ass disguised as her agent, that she pressed the ?play? button, wincing as the whining voice came through the small speaker.

?Dylan, this is Manny. Remember me? The short, skinny guy who gets paid to represent you? We need to talk, sweetheart. Those Nike idiots aren?t getting any younger, and if I show up empty handed one more time, sweets, they?re gonna shove a size 14 golf spike up my ass, understand? C?mon, D, just call me, will ya??

?Maybe I should call Nike and tell them to make it a size 16,? Dylan remarked to the air as her finger jabbed down on the ?erase? button. She knew she?d eventually have to break down and call the little bastard, but she was deriving too much sadistic pleasure out of watching him twist in the wind to give in to the inevitable just yet.

She scowled at the next number displayed and, just for perversity?s sake, played the message.

?Dylan? Hi, this is Hunter.?

?Oh goody. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dumb as a Rock.?

?I just wanted you to know that I had a great time last night.?

Dylan snorted. ?That makes one of us.?

?And I was wondering if maybe we could do it again sometime.?

?When pigs fly.?

?I have a couple of passes to the premier of my new movie, Death by Desire. We could get together for that, if you want. Anyway, I guess that?s it. Just wanted to tell you I was thinking about you.?

?You can think without a brain. I?m impressed.?

?Night, Dylan. Sweet dreams.?

?Maybe, but not of you.? Shaking her head, she erased the message, chuckling softly to herself. ?God, give me strength. I?d hate to have to hurt him.?

Brunhilde came bounding into the living room, followed close behind by her brother, and pressed her cold, wet nose into Dylan?s cloth covered belly. Dylan chuckled, giving both dogs a fond scratch behind the ear. ?Alright, I get the picture. It?s 3 a.m. and you guys need your beauty sleep. Let?s get to bed.?

Upon hearing their favorite word, both dogs raced for the bedroom, leaving their mistress to turn off the television and lights, and follow behind.

Dylan?s bedroom was cool and calming, done up in various shades of blue. Her king sized bed beckoned invitingly, and she walked over to it, stepping over two sprawled canines as she stripped off her clothes before slipping, naked, between the soft cotton sheets.

Propping herself up on one elbow, she reached for the thick stack of dossiers laid atop her nightstand, and pulled them onto the bed. Sharp eyes danced across the lines she?d read a thousand times before. These young women were the best of the best, each one possessing a particular skill which would make her invaluable the team lucky enough to draft her.

And though she read each folio carefully, Dylan?s mind had been made up long before this night. She flipped to the last folder in the stack and smiled at the earnest green eyes staring back at her. She quickly scanned the already memorized statistics.

Five foot five, one thirty five, blonde hair, green eyes. Good health. Average student heading for a degree in elementary education. Mother, father, nine siblings all alive and living in Bridgeport Connecticut. Father a machinist in a textile plant. Mother a waitress in a greasy spoon. Supportive family. She didn?t smoke, she didn?t do drugs, she had no juvenile record. Good work ethic, glowing reports from all of her coaches. Her physical abilities spoke for themselves, but it was the person looking back at Dylan from behind those eyes that convinced the young coach that her decision was the right one.

Nodding with a sense of final satisfaction, Dylan closed the folder, replaced it on the stack, and moved the entire mess back onto her nightstand. A flick of a finger and the room was plunged into blackness.

A moment later, Dylan was asleep.

Hodge did her absolute best to ignore the merciless teasing at her expense. As if it were somehow her fault that that her very own personal hero, Dylan ?The Goddess? Lambert had been in the crowd.

?Would you guys just knock it off? I?m sure she was only there as a fan.?

?Riiiight.? Kellie gave her friend a gentle punch to the arm. ?Sure she was.?

Tonya nodded her agreement. ?Yeah, like Dylan Lambert doesn?t have better things to do than watch college ball. I read last week that she?s dating Hunter Locke.?

The other girls ?oohed? and ?aahed?. Several fanned their faces.

Tonya laughed. ?You got that right, girlfriend. I just saw the promos for his new movie last week and if I had a choice between going to a stupid game and spending time with that wonderful hunk of man flesh, you know which one I?d choose.?

Laughter filled the air.

Hodge just shook her head. ?Yeah.? She shouldered her backpack and continued toward the dorm. ?Anyhow, I?m sure it was nothing.?

?Okay Miss Denial, this is where we part company. You are planning on going out with us tomorrow night to celebrate, right??

?Wouldn?t miss it for the world, Kellie. I?ll catch you guys tomorrow.?

She watched as Tonya and Kellie split off and took another path across the quad. Once they were out of sight, she turned to continue her trek to her dorm.

Once in her room she tossed down her backpack and flipped on a small desk lamp. There was just enough light to cast the room in a warm glow and soft shadows. The room was a single she had been fortunate to get when resident registration had screwed up her housing assignment. In order to keep her from having a fit of gargantuan proportions right there in the office, the assistant director had made the executive decision to assign her this single, normally reserved for resident assistants.

The room was neat and very orderly. Everything had a place and everyplace had its thing. Hodge couldn?t stand clutter and this was one of the biggest reasons she was grateful for her single room. She had been forced to share a room with a woman the year before who was a total slob and it had driven her half out of her mind.

Pulling a bottle of water from the small fridge, Hodge flipped on the TV and dropped down to her bed, frowning as the abused springs poked her in places that were most definitely sore. She looked around the room at the pictures and posters hanging on the walls. Photos of her family had a place of honor at the foot of her bed so that her parents and younger siblings were the last things she saw at night and the first things she would see in the morning.

The rest of the room, however, was dominated by pictures and posters of some of her favorite basketball players. There were a lot of them, from various eras of the game, but her eyes where drawn to what some of her friends lovingly referred to as ?the shrine?. Pictures, posters, T-shirts and trading cards dominated one entire wall, all bearing the face and form of one Pallas ?The Goddess? Lambert. Her favorite was a life-size poster of Lambert standing alone at center court, a faraway gaze in her piercing eyes. One hand perched on her hip, while the other cradled the basketball tucked under her arm.

To Hodge?s eyes, in that one perfect moment in time, the superstar veneer had faded, leaving a flesh and blood woman standing in her place. The image had captivated Catherine for years, and for some reason, staring at too long always left her with a strange sense of melancholia.

It was to this image that she spoke, her voice a subdued whisper.

?Regardless of what anybody thinks, I?m glad you got to see me play at least once Goddess. Thanks.?

She turned her attention to the TV where the weatherman was droning on about something she wasn?t particularly interested in, and very slowly her eyes dropped closed.

The sound of a ringing phone shocked Dylan out of a particularly pleasant dream, and she awoke to find herself pinned beneath the heavy weight of a dog who was aiding the wake up process by enthusiastically licking her face. ?Brunhilde! God! Dog breath. Move it, you big oaf, before I turn you into dog puree!?

Voicing her displeasure with a loud groan, Brunhilde absented herself from the bed in a leisurely fashion, allowing Dylan to pick up the phone on its fifth ring.

?Yeah.?

Mac?s smug tones oozed through the phone. ?You owe me, Lambert. Big. Not candlelight dinner big. Not front row Pacer?s tickets big. Diamond watch big.?

Sitting up, Dylan dry scrubbed her face with her hand, lips curling in disgust at the dog saliva coating her palm. ?He go for it??

?Hook, line, and sinker, my friend. He wants to see her at pre-draft camp, though. Up close and personal, so to speak.?

?Why? Isn?t he afraid her gayness might rub off on him??

?Dylan?.?

?Mac, the man?s a bigot. You know it, and I know it, so let?s stop beating around the bush, alright??

?Hey, at least he?s willing to listen to reason. So now all we need to do is find out if she?s planning on going.?

Dylan sighed and shook her head. ?Fine. Book us a flight for tomorrow morning and we?ll find out.?

Mac?s sigh was louder. ?Dylan, you know I love you, but I do have a wife I haven?t seen in three weeks.?

?Make it three weeks and two days then, Mac. Your wheeling and dealing got us into this mess, you?re gonna help us get out of it.?

?But?.?

?Bye, Mac. See you tomorrow.?

As she hung up the phone, Dylan looked up at the ceiling, praying for strength. Then she pushed herself out of bed, scowled down at the two oh so innocent faces staring back up at her, and headed for the shower to begin what was left of the day.

The Rusty Bucket was a small, hole-in-the-wall tavern well known to the students of UCONN. Though it was a bit of a hike from the main campus, it had the reputation for being a little lax when it came to checking ID?s, and so was a hit with the underage crowd.

The interior was typical for a college dive. Dim and smoky, it had a long, badly abused bar, stools bleeding foam stuffing from mortal wounds, and a smattering of splintered and sticky tables set much too close together. The tiny dance floor was fronted by an even tinier stage from which local talent was invited to do its best to drive paying customers away.

This night, the local college sensation, Laying Rubber, was pounding out the atonal chords and drum riffs that passed for music among the eager young crowd. Their hit song ?My Girlfriend is a Blow-Up Doll? was a particular favorite, and they played it so often that the bartender seriously considered rupturing his eardrums with his own icepick just so he wouldn?t have to hear it anymore.

All in all, it was the perfect place for Hodge, her friends, and their fans to let their hair down, celebrate their victory, and break the half-year long alcohol ban imposed upon them by their coaches.

Which was probably why, though the evening was scarcely two hours young, most of the young women were three sheets to the wind, and showing no signs of stopping.

Hodge never had been much of a drinker. She didn?t hold her liquor well, and there were goddesses other than the porcelain one that she?d much rather worship. Still, she figured that it wasn?t every day that a gal got to sink the winning basket in a championship game, and since it had happened to her, she figured such an event deserved a celebration.

She didn?t really know when she?d switched from beer to rum, nor exactly when the rum suddenly gained the taste and consistency of a jello shooter, but sometimes it was just best to go with the flow and refrain from asking questions whose answers were better off unknown.

Looking up from her latest shot, she noticed, for the first time, that she was alone at the table. Her gaze swung ponderously toward the dance floor where Kellie, Tonya and the rest of her friends were pressed up against a number of willing males in a pre-mating ritual they called ?dancing?.

So intent was she in the drunken study of her friends that she nearly launched herself into orbit when a warm hand came down gently on her shoulder.

?Who? Wha—?? she blubbered, turning her head to the left in time to spy a particularly cute redhead staring down at her, a look of adoration in her eyes.

?Is this seat taken?? Redhead breathed.

Before Hodge could even work her brain around a particular answer, the young woman lowered herself down into the seat next to the basketball player and leaned forward so that their bodies were almost touching.

?Do I know you?? Hodge found herself asking a pair of very pert breasts. Normally, she wasn?t quite so rude, but her eyes seemed to have frozen in that particular spot. Maybe it was some strange side effect of the alcohol she?d been consuming. God only knew what they put in jello shooters anyway.

?Not yet, but you could if you wanted to.? The redhead flashed a sexy smile and slid a little closer. ?Great game by the way. I?ve never missed a game when you?re playing.?

Finally able to drag her gaze up to a pair of twinkling gray eyes, Hodge smiled. ?Basketball fan huh??

?Not particularly. More of a Cat Hodges fan.?

The sober part of her brain looked on in horror at the developing situation. Though hardly a prude, she?d also never been the type to outwardly flirt with women, especially in straight bars. Her libido, however, aided by the alcohol, was firmly in control of the rest of her. ?A fan, huh??

?Oh yes. A very?big?fan.? Hodge?s eyes nearly popped out of her head when the redhead put a hand on her knee and slowly drew it upward. ?Who would love the opportunity to pay you back for the hours of enjoyment you?ve given me.?

In a last ditch effort to bring her suddenly rebellious body back under control, Hodge pushed back and stood up, not even noticing as her chair toppled over backwards the moment it was free of her weight. ?Air!? she squeaked. ?I need air.?

With a tiger?s smile, the redhead stood and took Hodge?s hand. ?What a wonderful idea. Let?s take a walk.?

Hodge looked desperately over her shoulder, but her friends were too busy searching for tonsil scars on their latest dates-du-jour to pay her any mind at all.

Then the redhead slid a sly thumb across Hodge?s sensitive palm, and she pretty much stopped thinking for good.

Hodge wasn?t sure how they ended up back at her dorm room, but by then she?d given up asking those sorts of questions. Her body craved what the redhead was offering and gleefully pounded the little voice of Catholic guilt in her head into silent submission.

Managing to get her key into the lock on the third try, she pushed the door open and made a gallant gesture with her hand to allow her date to enter first. Then she dropped her ?Do Not Disturb, upon penalty of death? sign on the knob and closed the door.

Turning, she stripped off her jacket and let it drop into a heap on the floor. ?So Red, whaddya think??

?I think I should help you get the rest of those clothes off so I can see that delicious body up close and personally.?

?Sounds good to me.? Hodge had a stupid grin on her face as she walked to the bed.

The ringing phone went through Hodge?s head like a dentist?s drill. She would have covered her ears had her hands not been trapped beneath?.something. The ring came again, and she dragged her eyes open, then shut them immediately as the light streaming through the window set what was left of her brain on fire.

?Oh god, just kill me now,? she mumbled, finally yanking her hands free, and managing to reach the phone just as it stopped its infernal jangling.

Her eyes slitted open, carefully this time. She froze as it became readily apparent that the ?something? which had trapped her hands was a very warm, very naked female body pressed tightly against her.

?Ohhh shit,? she breathed, lifting the sheet to find that she was as naked as her guest. ?Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.?

She looked around her room, trying not to turn her head too much, and found various articles of clothing strewn about. Very briefly she wondered if that was her bra hanging off the mini basketball hoop over the bathroom door.

The phone rang again. ?What!? she growled into the mouthpiece, and immediately regretted it. Her head spun from the sound of her own voice.

The mocking tones of the dorm?s RA, Cookie Reese, filtered through the handset, adding nausea to the list of complaints Hodge?s body was voicing. ?Hate to disturb you and your ?date?, Kitty.?

?Don?t call me that.?

A snicker. ?There some guy named Mac here to see you.?

Hodge looked down at her bedmate, who was finally coming awake. ?Your boyfriend no doubt, here to kick my ass.?

Another snicker. ?Wrong, sweetie. This guy says he?s from some basketball team or something.?

She sat up ramrod straight, her face paling to the color of curdled milk. ?What?!?!??

Cookie heaved a dramatic sigh. ?For goodness? sake, Kitty, were you so hot to get laid last night that you didn?t listen to the message I left you? I told you he would be here this morning.?

Slowly turning her head, Hodge looked down at the phone whose red message indicator was flashing urgently. ?Ohhhh shit.?

?Better get some clothes on, love. I?m sending him down right now.?

Click.

Hodge stared at the phone as if it had suddenly grown fangs, then slammed it down. ?Shit! Shit! Get up! Get up now!?

Jumping out of bed, Hodge grabbed the tangled sheets and pulled. The redhead tumbled to the floor with a startled squawk. Hodge ran around the room gathering up her guest?s clothing, then pulled the indignant young woman up by her arm and shoved the bundle into her chest.

?Closet! Now!!?

?What?!??

?Get in the closet and don?t make a sound till I tell you it?s ok.?

Turning away without waiting for an answer, Hodge grabbed her own clothes and started shoving her limbs into them, almost tripping herself as she tried to stuff two legs into the same hole. ?Shit!?

Finally she managed to dress herself in wrinkled clothes that stank of smoke and stale beer. Grabbing her brush, she pulled it through the tangled mess of her hair, then gave up and pulled it behind her head in a ponytail. She stiffened as she glanced quickly into the mirror and spied the redhead, still naked, and still staring at her, bewildered.

A knock on the door sounded a split second later.

?Just a minute!? she managed to get out in a voice that sounded more like a frog?s dying croak than anything else.

Turning on her heel, she grabbed her date?s clothing bundle and shook out the dress she?d been wearing the night before. ?Put your arms up.?

?What??

?Arms up! Now!?

Still bewildered, the young woman did as she was told, and Hodge yanked the material down over her arms and head. ?There. No go sit down at my desk and pretend you?re studying or something.?

?Cat?.?

?Please, please do as I say. Please!?

The knock sounded again.

Praying she?d somehow wake up from this nightmare she was trapped in, Hodge walked over to the door, twisted the lock, and pulled it open.

A huge man filled the open space, staring down at her with a polite smile on his face. ?Catherine Hodges??

?Um?yes. Yes, that?s me. Can I help you??

?My name is Mac MacKenzie. I?m with the Birmingham Badgers.? His voice trailed off as he looked into the disheveled room. ?Have I come at a bad time? Your Resident Assistant told me you?d be available this morning.?

?Oh. No?no?.you?re fine. We were just?studying.? She looked over her shoulder at the redhead, who hadn?t moved an inch. ?Right?.??

?Phyllis.?

?Phyllis, right.?

There was a sick smile on her face as she turned back to the door. ?We have finals next week.?

Mac looked at her doubtfully. ?I can come another time, if?.?

?No! No, please, it?s fine. Phyllis was just leaving. Weren?t you, Phyllis.?

Finally, the redhead moved from her spot. ?Yes, that?s right. Just leaving. We?re all through?studying?for today.? Walking forward, she made sure to brush by the sweating Hodge. ?Give me a call later if you want to study some more, ok??

?Yeah. Sure. Fine. Just?go now, ok??

?My pleasure.?

Mac stepped out of the way, and Phyllis left, but not before bestowing a lewd wink on Hodge.

?Please,? Hodge said sickly, ?come in.?

Hodge pulled the door wider and moved aside as Mac ducked into the room. Once he had fully entered, she swung the door closed, only to find its forward progress halted halfway. Angered at the thought that her pushy bedmate had returned to embarrass her further, she swung around the door, ready to raise hell.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

Pallas Dylan Lambert stood in the doorway like a vision from a fevered dream. Wearing black slacks, a crisply starched white shirt, and her everpresent black leather trench coat, her glittering eyes were the only points of color to be seen.

Those eyes flicked past the frozen young woman to where Mac was standing, trying to cover his grin with the back of his hand. Dylan returned her gaze to Hodge. An elegant eyebrow rose.

?May I come in??

If Hodge hadn?t been holding onto the door, she would have collapsed into an undignified, boneless heap on the floor. This is just a dream. It has to be. Because nowhere in any of Father McCarthy?s homilies did I ever hear him say that someone can be sent to heaven and hell at the same time.

Even though she knew it wasn?t true, just the possibility that all this might be the aftereffect of a night of boozing gave her the strength to straighten up and release the door. She even managed a smile.

?Yes, please come in.? Her voice sounded human. This was good.

Ducking her head slightly, Dylan entered the room, quickly scanning the small space as she did so. Other than the disheveled bed, which could be excused, the room was neat and well ordered, which told her a great deal about the woman living there.

Clearing his throat, Mac stepped to the side, presenting Dylan with an eyeful of?herself. Her image covered every inch of available space on the large wall. The pictures captured every stage of her playing career, from her high school days through to the Olympics. There was even her rookie card, autographed and released in such limited quantities that she?d heard it had become a rather valuable collector’s piece.

She looked back over her shoulder to see a deer caught in the headlights staring back at her. Dylan couldn?t help but smile.

?I?m impressed.?

Hodge found it hard to talk through the dryness in her throat. ?I?you?.? She sighed. ?You?re my favorite player,? she finally admitted in a small voice, wondering if it was physically possible to die from embarrassment.

Dylan decided to give the young woman a break. It was quite obvious that somehow the communications had crossed somewhere along the line and she hadn?t been expecting them. Dylan also had a hunch that whatever had happened in this room before they?d entered, it wasn?t something that occurred on a regular basis.

Decision made, Dylan crossed to the desk, pulled out the chair, and slid gracefully down into the seat so as to make herself less imposing to the much smaller Catherine. ?I watched you play on Thursday. You?re very good.?

Dylan thought, privately, that Catherine?s blush was rather charming, but elected to keep that particular bit of information to herself.

?Thank you,? Hodge replied, forcing herself to relax. ?It was a lot of fun.?

Dylan smiled. ?Fun. I seem to remember that feeling.?

Hodge cocked her head. ?Basketball isn?t fun for you anymore??

?It can be,? Dylan replied smoothly. ?It?s also a good deal of work. Particularly when you?re striving for a championship.?

?Yes, I guess it would be.?

The room fell silent for a moment. Mac decided to spur the conversation along. ?We were wondering if you were planning on attending pre-draft came in Minneapolis this year.?

Hodge looked startled. ?Well, yes, I was planning on going. Why? Is something wrong??

Mac held up his hands. ?No, nothing?s wrong. It?s just?as Dylan?s already mentioned, you were pretty impressive in that game against the Vols. Pre-draft camp will give us, and everyone else, a chance to evaluate your skills under many different sets of circumstances.?

Hodge nodded. Mac wasn?t telling her anything she didn?t know already.

?Not everyone participates, though,? Dylan continued. ?Some don?t want to risk a chance of injury. Others believe that their selection is a foregone conclusion.?

?Sort of like an actor who thinks he?s too good to audition for a part?? Hodge asked.

?Something like that, yes,? Dylan replied, grinning.

?Well, pardon me for saying so, but that just doesn?t make much sense.? Forgetting for a moment exactly who she was talking to, Hodge became much more animated as her thoughts received free rein. ?I mean, maybe it would if we were all professional superstars or something, but we?re not. We?re just a bunch of college kids looking for a job, just like everyone else. I mean, if I didn?t have basketball and had to get by on my teaching degree, I really don?t think I?d just walk into some elementary school somewhere and say ?Hire me. I?m good.??

Mac and Dylan looked at one another and broke out in identical grins. The young woman?s enthusiasm and openness were definitely points in her favor.

Realizing she?d just gone on a tear, Catherine pulled up short, and her blush appeared again. ?I?m sorry. I didn?t mean to?um?.?

Mac laughed. ?That?s quite alright, Catherine. As you probably already guessed, one of the reasons we?re here is to get to know a little bit about you as a person. The woman behind the basketball player, in other words.?

Hodge?s face fell. ?Oh. I guess I didn?t do so well in that department,? she said, more to herself than to her two visitors.

Mac shot Dylan a ?this one?s all yours? look. Dylan rolled her eyes and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. ?That?s not necessarily true.?

Hodge?s normally vibrant eyes were dull and clouded. ?No? From where I?m standing it is. I mean, a professional basketball team goes out of its way to send its head coach?who also happens to be somewhat of an idol of mine?and its general manager here to evaluate my personality. And here I am in yesterday?s clothes, probably stinking like stale smoke and cheap booze, caught in my room with a woman whose name I don?t even know. If this doesn?t go down in the record books as the worst first impression in history, I?m not sure what will.?

Dylan chuckled. ?Well, I?ll admit that it isn?t the best one you could have made, no. But even under an enormous amount of pressure, you?ve managed to acquit yourself surprisingly well. And that?s the kind of player we?re looking for. Someone who doesn?t crumble when the going gets tough. That kind of person won?t lead a team to the championship.?

Hodge stared at her, wide-eyed.

?Besides, I get the impression that whatever happened here wasn?t a routine thing.?

Hodge couldn?t help but laugh a little. ?You?ve got that right.?

Dylan?s gaze softened, as did her tone. ?We all make mistakes. It?s how we learn. How you respond to those mistakes is what counts with me. And frankly, I think you responded pretty well.?

?Really?? The awe was back in Hodge?s voice, but this time, she didn?t feel embarrassed.

Dylan smiled. ?Really.? Shooting a quick glance to Mac, she stood. ?We?ll see you at pre-draft camp, then??

A radiant grin lit Hodge?s face. ?You bet!?

Reaching out, Dylan gently clasped Hodge?s hand in her own. ?It was very nice to have met you, Catherine. Thanks for letting us talk to you.?

Reveling in the warmth of the large hand, Hodge looked up and was caught in the mesmerizing blue of Dylan?s eyes. ?No,? she breathed. ?Thank you.?

With a final nod, Dylan released the handclasp, and with a look, collected Mac. A moment later, both were gone, leaving a completely stunned Catherine Hodges staring at the now closed door and cradling her hand against her chest.

Mac managed to make it to the rental car before he collapsed, laughing so hard tears sprung into his eyes. Dylan patted him companionably on the back as choked out the last of his hysteria.

?Oh my god,? he wheezed. ?Did you see the look on her face when she opened the door?? The memory sent him off into another gale of laughter.

Dylan could only roll her eyes and wait out the storm.

When Mac was finally able to loosen his cramped stomach muscles enough to lean back in the seat, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and turned to Dylan. ?You know, if Johnson was with us, that would have been the end of any dream you might have had of drafting her.?

?Johnson isn?t with us, and he?s not gonna hear about this. Ever.?

Mac nodded. ?Not from me. Mum?s the word.? Somehow, that set off another laughing spell.

Shaking her head, Dylan started the car and shifted into reverse. ?Let?s just get the hell out of here before you have a stroke.?

And so they went.

Hodge stood in the sidelines with the rest of the women chosen to show what they could do in hopes of finding a spot with the Birmingham Badgers or one of the other pro teams present.

The camp was in its third day, and Hodge was looking forward to actually playing some basketball. The previous days had had the young women poked, pricked and prodded, weighed and measured, and generally treated like prime horseflesh. She?d run windsprints till it felt as if her lungs were going to exit through her ears, covered two miles in a very respectable time, and had shown off her vertical leaping abilities like some sort of demented kangaroo.

Today was the day to show what she could do on the court, and she was awaiting it with eager anticipation. She made sure to check everyone out, sizing up the competition. Seven other point guards had been invited to attend the pre-draft camp, including Hodges? nemesis, Keisha Brown of the Stanford Cardinal. Topping Hodge in height, weight and attitude, Keisha was a woman who believed her own hype. And, early in the season when Brown was selected by most to go first in the draft, that hype seemed well founded.

Hodge?s late stretch run, however, cast what was once a certainty into the deep shadows of doubt.

Moving a bit away from the rest, Hodge began her warm up routine, every now and then casting what she hoped were covert glances toward the bench area, where Dylan and Mac stood. Dylan appeared to be in full ?head coach? mode; focused and intent on the job at hand.

Which was fine with Hodge, since she knew from previous experience that if their glances so much as crossed, she?d be reduced to a blushing schoolgirl once again. And that wouldn?t do at all. After their near disastrous and completely embarrassing first meeting she decided that it was absolutely imperative that she concentrate entirely on the tryout. She had to prove to The Goddess that her decision to ask her to compete was not a bad one.

Of course, she had made a solemn vow never to be caught in a situation like that again. Even if it meant given up women forever. Well, maybe forever was a bit of a stretch, but at least until Pallas Dylan Lambert and the Birmingham Badgers were out of her life.

Decision made, Hodge hit her warm up routine with gusto, stopping only when she felt a presence looming over her. She straightened, looking up into the dark, flashing eyes of Keisha Brown.

?I seen you eyeballing Lambert over there, shorty. Just keep lookin?, girl, cause that?s the closest you?re ever gonna get.?

Hodge easily stood her ground. ?Think so, huh??

Brown beamed. ?Oh, honey, I know so.? With that, Brown moved swiftly by, making sure to slam Hodge hard with her shoulder as she passed.

The whistle blew, and the camp?s directors filed out onto the court, basketballs in hand.

?Okay ladies, listen up. Now?s your chance to show our esteemed guests what you?re really made of.?

Hearty cheering echoed through the gymnasium.

?First up are shooting drills. When I call your name, go to the ball racks and start shooting. One shot per rack. The whistle will tell you when time?s up. Good luck. Brown! You?re up.?

Hodge took in a deep breath to settle the butterflies in her stomach. Looking around, she could see other women wiping sweating palms on their shorts and shifting nervously foot to foot, anxious to prove their worth to the coaches. Perversely, this made the butterflies in her own stomach vanish entirely.

When her turn came, Hodge trotted up to the first rack and began shooting without an ounce of nervousness.

Dylan took a seat courtside, rather than in the benches set aside for the staff members. She wanted to watch the women play, not sit around and talk about what color new Mercedes some half-assed coach had just bought with a bonus they didn?t deserve. She was here to do a job, not schmooze and eat the free buffet.

The recruiting class was a good one, chock full of talent at all positions. While Dylan carefully scrutinized each woman, right down to her shoe size, she made no bones about the fact that one player in particular drew her interest.

?So that?s Super Girl, huh??

Dylan had the good sense to roll her eyes and keep her groan to herself before she turned around to face Horace Johnson, the owner of the Badgers. A shade under six feet tall, he fashioned himself a JR Ewing type, right down to the Stetson. His protuberant belly hung listlessly over his belt, and his suit jacket was a size too small. The cologne he all but bathed in was enough to raise the dead, and Dylan found herself stifling a sneeze.

?That?s her.?

?She?s short.? Johnson observed, past the toothpick he was chewing because his damn doctor told him to quit smoking.

?She compensates for that with her abilities.?

?She?s young.? He plucked the toothpick from his mouth and made a sucking noise through his teeth that made Dylan want to slap him.

?No younger than anyone else here, and older than a few.?

?She?s queer.

Dylan dropped her head then looked back up at the man, sighing softly before speaking. ?She?s gay. And that has no impact on her ability to play basketball.?

?Don?t like queers.?

?I don?t imagine they?re real fond of you either.? Dylan mumbled.

?What??

?I said it shouldn?t matter. Her talent is amazing and if you want me to give you a winning team, you?ll let me draft her.?

Squinting his beady, close-set eyes, Johnson made a show of examining the young woman in question.

?Make you a deal, then.?

Dylan tried not to look annoyed. ?What??

?I?ll let you draft the little Sodomite on two conditions.?

Dylan looked over to Mac, who was standing out of the line of fire. Mac shrugged. Dylan glared at him, then returned her attention to the owner. ?And they are??

?First, you?re completely responsible for her behavior. I don?t want her caught in some queer nightclub and I sure as hell don?t want her marching in any gay pride parades.?

?And number two??

?I want you to go out with Hunter Locke again. This team gets damn fine publicity when you two go out together.?

Dylan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Since when did I become your corporate whore, Horace?”

The toothpick rolled again. “Why, since the day you signed my contract, darlin. You want that queer little filly in your stable, you gotta put out. Got to give me what I need.”

“And a championship isn’t enough for you?”

Johnson hooked his thumbs through his belt and pretended to think on it. “Nope. Guess it isn’t.”

As he turned to her, her fists closed against the urge to slap that smirk off his face.

“So, we got a deal?”

Dylan gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

Johnson sniffed, trying to give a superior air that he didn?t have. It was all Dylan could do to keep from quitting her job, punching him in the nose and ramming her booted foot up his ass, not necessarily in that order.

She was very relieved when he jammed his toothpick back in his mouth left the gym, in search of his free meal.

?Asshole.? She mumbled as she turned her attention back to the court.

Mac quietly slid up next to her. ?Well, that went well, huh??

Dylan gave him a look hot enough to smelt metal.

?Or not,? Mac replied, swallowing hard and scratching the back of his neck. ?I?m?just gonna?.? His voice trailed off as he gestured weakly toward the stands where the others were sitting.

?You do that.?

Hodge listened carefully as one of the camp directors explained the three-on-three drill. The large group had been split into teams of three, two forwards and a guard. They?d play a half court game to eleven points, one point per basket. Four games would go on simultaneously on the two courts.

When the director called out the names for the first two teams, Keisha Brown smirked. ?You and me, shorty. You and me. You?re goin? down, Kitty Cat.?

Hodge didn?t let the use of her nickname bother her. Nor did she so much as flinch when Brown rifled the ball into her belly from less than three feet away. Instead, she grinned, gathered her teammates around her, and planned a strategy for the game.

The two teams were very evenly matched, and after twenty minutes, the score was tied, 10 ? 10. Keisha, ball in hand, smirked at Hodge. ?Take a look at this face, baby. It?s gonna be famous.?

The whistle blew, and Brown shot a pass over Hodge?s head to one of her forwards. Hodge?s teammates closed quickly, guarding against an easy shot. The forward passed the ball back to Brown, who dribbled it easily, still smirking.

Faking to her left, Brown went right with a lazy, over-confident stride. Hodge waited, backing slowly up and watching the ball like a hawk. Then, using a quickness startling to anyone who didn?t know her well, her left hand darted out and tipped the ball away. Stepping easily around Brown, she gained possession of the ball and brought it back to half court.

A nod, and her teammates went into motion. As Brown, teeth grit tight in anger, came up to guard, Hodge dribbled once, then passed to the forward cutting across the top of the key. The forward stopped, turned, and shot, but the ball bounced off the rim and into an opposing player?s hands.

Brown had the ball again at half court, her grin firmly back in place. ?Let?s see if you can do that again, Kitten.?

Brown had one of the fastest first steps in the game, and this time she made it count, blowing by Hodge, who was forced to turn and run. A lane was cleared, and Brown dribbled forward, headed into the paint for what looked to be an easy, game winning lay-up.

Hodge slid into place beneath the basket, and froze. Brown charged into her, knocking her to the ground hard as she shot.

The whistle blew. ?Charging! No basket.?

Angered beyond reason, Brown slammed her foot into Hodge?s chest. ?Stay down, bitch!?

Hodge rolled to her feet, eyes blazing green fury as she tried to get her wind back. Her arms were immediately grabbed from behind by one of her teammates. Brown was grabbed in a similar manner as the referee stepped in between them, blowing her whistle repeatedly.

?Go home and eat out your girlfriend, dyke!? Brown shouted, struggling to break free from the arms holding her.

Dylan flew over the railing dividing the stands from the court, the sounds of her boot heels slamming on the varnished wood heard even above the yelling of the crowd.

?Grab your things and go, Keisha!? the ref snarled, grabbing the young woman by the front of her jersey. ?You?re outta here!?

?You can?t kick me out! You can?t fuckin kick me out!!?

Two of the staff grabbed the young woman?s arms and began leading her off of the court.

?Wait!? Hodge said, yanking herself free of her own set of restraining hands.

The referee looked at her.

?It?s alright. Things just got a little heated, but it?s okay.? She paused, looking toward Dylan, who slowed to a stop some feet away. ?Please. Let her stay.?

?We can?t do that, Cat,? the referee said, not unkindly. ?She broke the rules. She needs to go.?

?Please,? Hodge said softly, still looking at Dylan. ?Give her a second chance.?

Dylan stared into Hodge?s eyes for a very long moment. The gymnasium was silent.

Finally, Dylan looked over to the ref, and gave a slight nod. The referee sighed. ?Fine. Go to the showers and cool off, Keisha. You can come back tomorrow, but you?re done for today.?

Hodge smiled. ?Thank you,? she mouthed to Dylan, who gave her a short nod before turning and leaving the court.

Hodge stepped out of the shower and into the empty locker room, gingerly toweling her hair. There was a lump the size of an egg on the back of her head and it throbbed like a rotting tooth. As she passed by a mirror, she stopped and looked at herself. A large bruise was forming between her breasts. She winced.

?Way to go, Cat,? she whispered to her reflection. ?One day in front of the important folks, and you look like you?ve been through a war. But hey! At least you didn?t break anything vital.? She hissed as her towel touched the knot in her head. ?I hope.?

Chuckling to herself, she toweled dry as best she could, and pulled on her street clothes. Stuffing her uniform into her duffel, she slung it over her shoulder and headed for the darkened gymnasium.

She felt another?s presence before she saw it, and stiffened when Keisha Brown came into view. Brown moved forward until there was less than a foot separating them.

?Don?t think this squares things between us, bitch,? Brown hissed. ?You?re just takin? longer to dig your own grave, that?s all. I?ll get drafted first whether I get kicked out of here or not. Remember that.?

?Why are you doing this?? Hodge asked, careful not to show her discomfort.

?Because I?m the best. You get that? The best, and no two bit wannabe player is gonna take that away from me.?

Hodge held in a groan of pain as Brown pushed a hand against her bruised chest.

?I can take you down anytime I want to, Kitty Cat. Anytime I want to.?

?Think you can take me down??

Both women started at the deep, smooth voice that floated in from the shadows.

Brown spun, and she gasped as she stared up into the flickering blue eyes of a woman who topped her by over eight inches. ?C-Coach Lambert!?

?You didn?t answer my question, Keisha. You wanna take me down?? A smile curled Dylan?s lips.

The kind that made all the spit in Brown?s mouth dry up. ?I-we-we wuz just talkin?, that?s all.?

?Is that so.?

?Yeah,? Brown replied, laughing weakly. ?Honest.?

Dylan stepped fully into the meager light cast by the locker room, causing Brown to shrink back in fear. ?A liar and a bully. Nice. I?m sure some team is gonna consider themselves real lucky to get such a prize.?

?But??

?Get outta here, Brown. Now.?

As Keisha scampered away, Dylan looked Hodge carefully over. ?You alright??

?Yes,? Hodge replied. ?Just wasn?t meant to be my lucky day, I guess.?

The corner of Dylan?s mouth turned up. ?Oh, I don?t know about that. You managed to set a record in the shoot around, won all your three-on-three games, and talked me into breaking the rules and letting that little thug stay on. All in all, not a bad showing.?

Hodge laughed, then stopped abruptly, one hand going to her head while the other covered her chest. ?Ow.?

Dylan looked down at her, concerned. ?Are you sure you?re alright??

?Yeah. The trainer looked me over. I?m just a little bruised. I think I?ll live, though.?

?Alright. Are you headed back to the hotel??

?Yes.?

?I?ll walk you to your car then. C?mon.?

Dylan shortened her strides so that her smaller companion could keep up with her as they walked through the gym and into the chilly Minneapolis night. Hodge stumbled as they stepped from the sidewalk onto the paved parking lot, but quickly righted herself. Her head spun from the effort.

?Dizzy??

Hodge nodded. ?Just a little, when I tripped. It?s okay now, though.?

?Let?s not take any chances. I?ll drive you back to the hotel, alright??

?No, no,? Hodge demurred. ?I?m fine. Really.?

?And I?m driving you to the hotel. You can get a ride back with one of the players in the morning.?

Hodge really couldn?t do anything at that point but give in. ?Ok,? she said simply, allowing Dylan to lead her to the rental parked close by.

The ride to the hotel was made in silence. Dylan, by nature, wasn?t much of a conversationalist. And Hodge, who was, found that the close presence of the woman she idolized managed to wither away every single thought in her head.

Unable to speak, Hodge contented herself with catching glimpses of Dylan?s chiseled profile as the car moved in and out of bars of light created by the passing streetlamps. Hodge had always thought her incredibly beautiful?who wouldn?t??but in person this was even more true. Dylan had a charisma that cameras captured well, but cameras couldn?t hold a candle to seeing her in real life. She had a physical presence that went far beyond her unusual height or her looks. It rolled off of her in waves, and Hodge was quite happy to be caught in the undertow.

Dylan was quite aware of the scrutiny. It had been a part of her life for so many years, she all but forgot what it was like not to be seen as if from under a microscope?s lens. She?d learned very early that to have any type of privacy at all, she would have to hide within the glass bubble of her own popularity. It was a lesson she learned well.

The hotel came quickly into view, and Dylan found a parking space very near the front. Shutting down the engine, she exited the rental and popped the trunk, withdrawing Hodge?s duffle and handing it to her. Together, the two women walked into the nearly empty lobby.

The doors to the elevators opened as if by magic, and they entered, pressing the buttons for their respective floors. When the doors opened on five, Hodge turned to Dylan. ?Well, this is where I get off. Thanks?for helping me out back there. And for making sure I was alright.?

Dylan smiled at the slight blush that colored Hodge?s cheeks. ?You?re welcome.?

?Well?I guess I?ll see you tomorrow then.?

?You will. Be sure to ice yourself down, or those bruises will get worse.?

?Don?t worry. I will.? There was an awkward pause. ?Well?goodnight, Coach Lambert.?

?Goodnight, Catherine. Sleep well.?

Dylan walked into her room to see Mac lounging in her living area, in his skivvies, his feet propped up on the table and a bottle of beer in his hand. The television was tuned to a decades old pro game on ESPN Classic, and the door that connected their adjoining suites was wide open.

He saluted her with his beer as she passed.

?How nice of you to make yourself at home, Mac.?

Mac chuckled. ?Reception?s better in here.?

Snorting at the lie, Dylan removed her coat and draped it over the ottoman before stepping into the bathroom to change.

?Everything alright with the kid??

?She?s twenty two, Mac. Hardly a ?kid?.?

?You know what I mean. Is she alright??

?She?s fine,? Dylan replied, walking back into the room in her bra and briefs, causing Mac to choke on his beer.

?Jesus, D! You wanna warn a guy before you do that! You trying to give me a heart attack or something??

Dylan rolled her eyes. ?You?ve seen me in a whole lot less than this.?

?Yeah, but at least I was prepared for it! God!?

Walking over to her suitcase, she pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. ?Better??

Mac looks up at the long, lean, muscled form outlined by the snug clothing. ?Not much,? he choked, earning him a swat to the arm.

Dylan eased herself down on the couch next to Mac, propped her feet up, and caged a swig of his beer before handing the bottle back. ?Now, television reception aside, why are you darkening my doorstep at this late hour??

Mac shrugged. ?Just wanted to see how the ki?I mean Ms. Hodges was doing.?

?Couple bruises, a knot on the head, but otherwise, alright. Our little thug was sniffing around again.?

?Oooh,? Mac replied, wincing in sympathy. ?Did you call the janitors in to hose off the blood spot you turned her into??

?Nah. She figured it was in her own best interests to take a hike.?

Mac snickered. ?Knew there was a brain in there somewhere. I?m glad to know Hodges is ok.?

Dylan grinned. ?Growing on you, is she??

?She?s alright,? Mac allowed. Putting his beer on the table, he shifted to face her, his expression suddenly serious. ?What are you going to do about Johnson??

?I?ll deal with him. In my own way.?

?But what about Hodges? I mean, I get the impression that she?s not exactly in the closet. How?s she going to take to this??

?I?m going to have a talk with her before draft day. Every team?s contracts have the same morality clause. Hers won?t be any different. We?ll deal with it then.?

?I know you will.?

They settled into a comfortable silence, then, and watched television until they were both yawning. Mac took himself off to his own room, and Dylan slid beneath the covers, asleep almost as soon as she hit the pillow.

It was a week later, and Hodge was curled up in her blankets, feeling warm and safe and very relaxed. She could smell bacon and eggs and fresh coffee, and her stomach growled, reminding her how good it was to be home.

She opened her eyes to find the familiar surroundings of her own bedroom, or at least what had been her bedroom before she moved away to college. Now it was the haven of her oldest brother, who had easily given it up to her for the few weeks she?d be staying. The bedroom she?d remembered had morphed into that of a typical teenage boy, a little messy, and strewn with posters of the latest rock stars and bikini clad sex kittens. But it was still home, and that was all that mattered.

Outside, she could hear the boisterous shouts of her brothers as they pursued their favorite Saturday morning pastime?basketball.

Rolling out of bed, she moved to the window and lifted it, sticking her head out to confirm that there was a mean game of Horse going on below her. ?Morning guys.?

?Hey Kitty Cat!? Her father stopped in mid shot to greet her.

She smiled; the only person on the planet who could get away with that nickname was her dad.

Her bothers all joined in yelling at her, encouraging her to come down and play ball with them.

?In a little bit. I need coffee.?

?You shouldn?t drink coffee, big sister, it?ll stunt your growth.? her oldest brother, Michael called up as he stole the ball from his father.

?Don?t give up your day job, Mike,? was her droll reply as she closed the window and turned to grab her clothes.

Once dressed, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, drawn on by the savory scents of her mother?s cooking. As soon as she entered the room, her mother pressed a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

?Good morning sweetheart.?

?Morning Mom.?

?Did you sleep well?? the older woman asked as she went back to preparing breakfast for her troop.

?Like a rock,? she replied, taking a long sip of coffee. ?Mm. This is good.?

She slid into her seat at the table, and immediately noticed the morning paper, which was opened to the employment page. Her mother had obviously been hard at work. Various teaching jobs were circled in bright red ink. With a silent sigh, she shook her head and put her cup down on the table, deciding to ignore the blatant hint until she?d woken up more.

Hodge?s mother frowned as she placed a plate of bacon and eggs before her daughter, noticing the ignored paper. Turning, she made her way back to the stove. ?I ran into Mrs. Culpepper today at the beauty parlor,? she mentioned in an offhand voice.

Hodge winced, then dug into her food. ?How?s she doing??

?As well as can be expected, given her age.?

?Mom! She?s hardly ancient.?

?No, but she?s getting close to retirement age. She?s going to need a good, dependable teacher to take her place when she leaves.?

Hodge shoved another forkful of eggs into her mouth, refusing to be baited. ?And I?m sure she?ll get one, when the time comes.?

Marion Hodges laid down her spatula and turned toward the table. ?Catherine, you?ve been home for almost a week now. I?m not trying to push you out of the nest or anything, but don?t you think it?s time you thought of your future??

?Mom, I am thinking about my future. Every minute of every day. Believe me.?

?Catherine?.?

?Mother, we?ve been having this argument every day since I?ve gotten home. I know you only want what?s best for me, but you have to realize that I want that too.?

?I know, honey, but basketball?.?

?Is what I want to do with my life, Mom. If I can.? Laying her knife and fork back down on the table, she faced her mother directly. ?Mom, Dylan Lambert herself came down to invite me to camp. She thinks I?m good and you know she was the best.?

?Yes she was the best and look what happened to her. She was injured and now??

?And now she?s a head coach. Besides that?s not going to happen to me.?

?Do you suppose the great and mighty Dylan Lambert had the same conversation with her mother??

?Mom?? Hodge whined and let her head drop to the table.

To her great relief her dad and bothers came charging into the kitchen in search of food. The need to feed her family soon distracted the elder woman from nitpicking at her daughter.

Matthew, third eldest at 14, sat down and nudged her with his elbow. ?What?s wrong sis??

Hodge jerked a thumb over her shoulder at her mother.

?Oh,? Matthew said, knowingly. He too had been the focus of his mother?s loving, but annoying attentions. ?Sorry.?

?S?okay.? She lifted her head and smiled at his. ?How?s it going Pee Wee??

?Not bad. I got an A on my Trig final, so I?m pretty pleased.?

?That?s great. It?s nice to have one math whiz in the family. I?ll hire you to be my accountant when I turn pro.?

?It?s a deal.? He scooted closer to his sister and whispered, ?So did you really meet Dylan Lambert??

?Yup.?

?Please tell me she?s really beautiful.?

?Oh little brother, you have no idea.?

Matthew?s cheeks reddened. ?Man. Think you can get me tickets to come see you play??

Hodge smiled at her brother?s simple and unquestioning acceptance of her dream. ?As close to the court as I can get ?em, Pee Wee.?

?Thanks, sis. You rock!?

Continued

Return to The Bard’s Corner

Return to Australian Xena Info Page

Hodge stood in the driveway, bouncing the basketball and staring at the hoop but making no attempt to make a shot. It was clear she was deep in thought.

?Hey Kitty Cat.?

?Hey dad.?

She threw the ball to her father, who caught it easily.

?Don?t let your mother get to you Cat. She?s just doing what mothers do. She wants what?s best for you.?

?And if playing pro ball is best for me??

?Then she?ll give you grief every time she sees you, buy me season tickets to your games and point your picture out on magazine covers to everyone at the grocery store.? He passed the ball back to her.

Hodge laughed as she caught the ball. ?I don?t want to make her mad, Dad but geeze??

?I know sweetheart. She?s just fussing because that?s what good Catholic mothers do.?

?I thought they did guilt.?

?No, they leave that to the good Jewish mothers.? He laughed as he slapped the ball from her hands. ?Come on Miss Big Shot Basketball player, let?s see if you can still take your old man.?

?In my sleep, Dad!? she teased.

Later that evening, Hodge found herself in the living room, playing video games with her two youngest brothers, who were twins. The phone rang, and a moment later, her brother John entered the living room.

?Hey Cat Poop.?

?What? Can?t you see I?m busy here, slacker?? She groaned as a huge green dragon fried her warrior on the screen, much to the delight of her younger brothers who howled with laughter as they rolled around on the floor.

?Dylan Lambert is on the phone.?

?Yeah right!? Heaving herself off the floor, she walked over and grabbed the phone from him. ?That?s not even funny, John. I swear, if this is one of your dorky friends, I?m gonna twist your head till it pops off your runty little neck.?

He just shrugged as she put the phone to her ear.

?Cat Poop?? the silken voice on the other end of the phone asked.

Hodge pulled the phone away from her ear as if it had grown fangs. She stared at the receiver for a moment before putting it back to her ear. ?Coach Lambert??

?Last time I checked,? came the dry reply.

Hodge sighed. ?I did it again didn?t I.?

She decided that she liked Dylan?s laugh. Very much. Even when it was, as now, at her expense.

?It?s alright,? Dylan said finally. ?I can imagine what it?s like growing up with younger brothers.?

?It?s a handful,? Hodge agreed.

?Listen, the reason I called was that I?m going to be in Boston on Thursday to attend a dinner. I was wondering if you might be able to take a run up there and meet with me for lunch on Friday. There are a couple of things I need to discuss with you.?

Hodge felt her grin trying to encompass her entire face. One triumphant fist pumped in the air. When she spoke, she tried her best to modulate her tone into one of casual interest. ?Sure, I can do that.?

?Do you know where Morrissey?s is??

?I sure do! I love that place!?

?Alright, how about if we meet at 2pm, then. My flight doesn?t leave till seven.?

?I?ll be there.?

?I?ll see you then. Goodbye, Catherine.?

?Bye, Coach.?

Hodge hung up the phone, grinning like a fool.

It was twenty minutes to two when Hodge found herself in front of the mirrored glass windows of Morrissey?s, a trendy restaurant in the heart of Boston. Catching her reflection, she stopped briefly to make sure her appearance was up to par. Dark, crisply pressed slacks and a mint polo were formal enough for Morrissey?s, but relaxed enough that she could feel comfortable. Her shoulder length hair, normally pulled back in a tight braid, hung loose and shining in the bright spring sun.

Opening the door, Hodge stepped into the cool, dim interior and then into a short line of customers waiting to be seated. The restaurant was crowded with business types enjoying a late lunch and some last minute schmoozing. Conversation was muted; a soothing hive drone interspersed with the pleasant sound of silver ringing on china.

As she waited in line, she resisted the urge to look around like some gawking fan searching for a glimpse of her favorite star. A moment later, she found herself before a tall podium. A well-dressed and attractive blonde woman was staring down at her, her smile polite. ?May I help you??

?Yes. I?m meeting Pallas Lambert here today.?

The hostess? expression froze as her eyes narrowed. ?And you are??

?Catherine Hodges, Ma?am.?

A more genuine smile appeared. ?Ms. Lambert is already seated. If you?ll follow me??

Hodge followed the hostess through the restaurant, past the central grouping of tables, and toward a darker, more intimate area, where small, sheltered booths ran along the far wall. Hodge wondered at the intimacy of the setting, then realized that the placement was more to hide Dylan?s celebrity from prying eyes than anything else.

The hostess stepped out of the way to reveal Dylan seated at the table, a cell phone up to her ear. She wore a royal blue silk top whose sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing corded forearms and thick, supple wrists. Like Hodge, her hair was down, spilling past her shoulder blades and shining blue in the muted, overhead lighting. Hodge felt her body instinctively respond, and she shifted on her feet, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Alright, Catherine, settle down. Just because she?s an absolute knockout doesn?t mean you can?t treat her like any other person. Right? Right. Nothing to it. Now if my heart would only stop beating like a freight train going uphill, I might have this thing licked!

Dylan smiled at Hodge and gestured for her to sit down. Hodge slid into the booth and immediately picked up the menu to avoid staring at the woman across the table. She?d seen this menu many times before, and knew exactly what she wanted to order. Morrissey?s had excellent food, though it was a bit pricey. Still, the money from the part time job she?d carried all through college would easily cover this unexpected expense. Besides, she?d been craving a thick, juicy Morrissey?s steak for a week now, and damned if she wasn?t going to take care of that craving.

Dylan finally managed to get her troublesome agent off the phone by promising him a meeting with the Nike people within the next week. She folded the phone, slipped it into her vest pocket, and rubbed at her throbbing temples. Headaches bloomed every time she talked to Manny. She wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, why she didn?t just fire the bastard and be done with it.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she summoned up a smile, which she gave to the young woman seated across from her. ?Thanks for coming.?

Hodge returned the smile. ?Thank you for asking me.?

The waiter appeared, as if by magic, and with a bow of her head, Hodge gave Dylan the honor of ordering first. As she listened to the selection, her face fell. Dylan was ordering from what Hodge and her friends liked to call the ?crunchy sticks and bark? section of the menu.

Great. She?s a vegetarian.

Her stomach cried bitter tears as all thoughts of a nice slab of beef went swirling down the drain.

Catching Hodge?s woebegone expression, Dylan couldn?t help but grin. ?It?s alright,? she said softly after she?d finished ordering. ?Get what you like.?

?But?.?

?Believe me, you won?t offend me. I?m the only vegetarian I know, and if I took exception to people eating animal products, I?d be dining alone for the rest of my life.? She chuckled. ?Really, it?s fine.?

Something in Dylan?s eyes convinced Hodge, and her stomach leapt for joy.

After the waiter left, Dylan folded her hands in front of her, and fixed her dinner companion with a penetrating stare. ?As you probably know, the Badgers have several picks in the upcoming draft. Aside from the number one, we?ve got another first round, two seconds, and a third.?

Hodge nodded. She?d heard about the flurry of deal making during the off-season. The Badgers were well positioned to pick up some outstanding talent.

?I?d like you for number one.?

If she hadn?t been sitting, Hodge would have likely collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap. While even a blind man would have noticed the interest in her as a player, never in her wildest fantasies had she ever imagined she would be the first person selected in the draft. At most, given the multitude of excellent prospects this year, including a 6? 7? center who people were already comparing to Dylan, she hoped to go somewhere in the late first, early second round.

Dylan was obviously still talking, but Hodge couldn?t hear her for the buzzing in her ears. When the coach stopped talking and fixed her with that piercing gaze again, Hodge all but slapped herself out of her stupor.

?Would you?mind running that by me one more time? I think I missed something.?

?Which part??

Hodge blushed. ?Everything after the ?I?d like you for number one? part.?

Dylan laughed softly. ?I asked you if that would be alright with you.?

Hodge felt that queer stunned sensation threaten to come down over her again. She gamely shook it off. ?You?re asking me??

?Yes, I?m asking. To be honest, Catherine, I have no desire to waste my prime pick on someone who?ll refuse to sign a contract because she believes her talents could be put to better use elsewhere. The Badgers have never been contenders, but we?re getting close. I want someone who wants to be on our team as much as we want to have her. And I?d like that someone to be you.?

?Are you kidding?? Hodge asked, with a natural exuberance that she couldn?t hide if she tried. ?I?d love to play with you!?

She froze as those words hung in the air between them. She felt her entire body go warm with a flush hot enough to start the overhead sprinkler system.

?I?uh?didn?t exactly mean that the way it sounded.?

?I think I understand your point,? Dylan replied dryly.

Hodge continued on as if she hadn?t heard, though in fact she had. ?It?s just?. When I was a child, I fell in love with basketball. I don?t know why, I just know I did. And as I got older, people kept giving me reasons why I couldn?t play. They told me I was too short, or too slow, or too skinny, or whatever. And it was hard, because when you?re a kid, you kind of walk this tightrope between wanting to listen to ?authority? and wanting to prove everyone wrong.? She laughed. ?I know I don?t look like much of a rebel, but I was in those days.?

Dylan simply smiled and nodded, interested in hearing this fascinating young woman speak her mind. Her voice was melodic and soothing, and as she listened, Dylan felt her headache begin to slip away.

?I was in high school, fighting for a spot on the team, when you turned the league on its ear. You were?it was?god?amazing to watch. It was then that I realized.?

?What?? Dylan asked, entranced.

?Everything I was going through, you were too.? Hodge held up a hand to forestall any comment. ?I don?t mean that you were too short or anything, because obviously you?re not.? She laughed softly. ?But I can remember the articles and the sports commentators saying that a woman would never be able to dunk as well as a man, or shoot as well as a man, or hundreds of other things. And instead of listening to those people, you just went ahead and proved everyone wrong by doing what they said you couldn?t. And I realized that if you could do it, so could I. I saw that you were opening a door, and I was going to do my best to walk through it.?

Leaning slightly forward, Hodge looked Dylan directly in the eye. ?You taught me how to fight, and you taught me how to win. And I know there is so much more I can learn from you. So yes, I want to be part of the Badgers as much as you want to have me there.?

Their food arrived just as Hodge finished speaking. Dylan used the time to ponder Hodge?s words, and the passion so evident in the young woman. If there had even been a glimmering of a doubt before, none existed any more. Catherine Hodges was a winner.

Dinner was eaten in companionable silence, and when the last morsel had been consumed and the dishes taken away, Dylan again looked at Hodge. ?There are some other things we need to discuss before you make your final decision.?

Hodge felt a tremor of nervousness run through her, but did her best to look unfazed. ?Is there something wrong??

?No. At least, not in the traditional sense.? Letting out a breath, Dylan tried to compose her thoughts. ?What have you heard about the Badgers? owner, Horace Johnson??

?Well, I know that he owns Johnson?s Electronics, a nationwide chain of electronics superstores. I know that he?s active in supporting the Republican party, that he?s married and has one son and a daughter, and that he?s known to be a bit?conservative in his political leanings.?

?Mm,? Dylan replied. ?Conservative would be one way of putting it, yes.?

?Let me guess. He has an issue with the fact that I?m gay.? Hodge didn?t need verbal confirmation. The look in Dylan?s eyes told her everything she needed to know. ?Well, we might have a problem then, because it?s not something I can switch on and off.?

?I know.?

?So?where does that leave us??

?That depends,? Dylan replied. ?Though it?s something I?m not fond of, all the contracts in the league have a morality clause. Same one for everybody, players and coaches.?

?Not the owners, huh??

Dylan smiled. ?No, not the owners. It?s pretty standard. Don?t break the law, don?t get caught sleeping around, don?t party all night long and then lead the police on a chase through the city. Basically, don?t do anything that?s going to embarrass the league or its image.?

?Don?t be gay??

?Be discreet.?

?Closeted, you mean.?

?Discreet,? Dylan answered.

?I don?t mean to sound argumentative, but I?m not sure I understand the difference.?

Sighing, Dylan nodded. She hated herself for even having to bring this up. Damn Johnson and his bigotry. ?There are several gay players in the league. Their right to privacy prevents me from giving you their names. Except for one.?

Reaching into her pocket, Dylan pulled out a business card and slid it across the table. Hodge looked down at the name, then back up at Dylan. ?Shauna Keeps. She used to play with you on the Lightening.?

?Yes. She got traded last year to the Shot and is living here in Boston with her partner and their daughter. She can answer your questions. She?s expecting your call.?

Hodge almost?almost?broke down and asked the question that sat between them, like a white elephant. Instead, she nodded and slipped the card into her own pocket. ?Thank you. I?ll call her this afternoon.?

?Talk to her. Then think about everything. When you?ve made your decision, let me know.?

?I?ll do that.?

When the check was presented, Dylan waved Hodge off. ?This one?s on me.?

Hodge smiled. ?Thank you.?

Dylan permitted herself for just a moment to feel the energy between them. Then she closed it off, and stood.

Hodge stood with her, and the two shook hands. ?I?ll call you,? Hodge promised.

?I?ll be waiting.?

Then Dylan was gone, leaving behind a radiant vigor that echoed her passing.

?Wow,? Hodge said softly, shaking her head. ?Just?wow.?

Much like the woman herself, Shauna Keeps? home was large, open and airy. Situated on a high bluff well outside of the city proper, it had a commanding view of the countryside as seen through a multitude of large, floor-to-ceiling windows.

Shauna opened the door a moment after Hodge knocked and, with a big grin, escorted the smaller woman into her home. A smidge over six feet tall, she was long, lean and incredibly attractive. Her skin was the color of melted dark chocolate and her eyes were several shades lighter, giving her face an exotic intensity that Hodge found extremely compelling.

A wide, warm, and white smile greeted her. ?Cat Hodges, right??

Hodge couldn?t help but return the grin. ?Yes, that?s right. And you?re Keepaway.?

Keeps laughed. ?Right on. C?mon in.?

Hodge followed her host inside, and stopped, entranced as she entered the huge living area. Everything— walls, floor, ceiling, furniture, electronic equipment, everything— was a brilliant, almost blinding white. Except for the warmth of the air, she might have entered some well-appointed igloo on the arctic tundra.

A door to the left of the living room opened, admitting a petite, stunning woman carrying a sleepy toddler on one hip. Shauna?s smile grew. ?Cat, I?d like to introduce you to my partner, Verdelle, and our daughter, LaShonda. Dell, this is Cat Hodges.?

Hodge grasped Verdelle?s hand warmly and smiled at the toddler, who smiled shyly back and burrowed her face into her mother?s neck. ?Very pleased to meet you, Ma?am.?

Dell laughed. ?I can?t be more than three years older than you, girl. Dell is just fine.?

Hodge grinned. ?Dell, then.?

?Good to meet you, too. D?s pretty high on you.?

Gathering that ?D? was Dylan, Hodge nodded, barely managing to keep a blush from coloring her cheeks.

Dell looked over to her partner. ?I?m gonna take the baby up for a nap. You guys want anything before I go up??

?No thank you,? Hodge replied.

?We?ll be fine, baby,? Shauna answered, kissing her partner and daughter. ?Be up in a bit.?

After Dell had climbed the circular staircase and disappeared from sight, Shauna turned to Hodge. ?C?mon, let?s get comfortable.?

Hodge followed her hostess through another door and into what Shauna called a sunroom, which looked like a very large glassed in porch. Hodge liked it immediately. She was directed to a large, overstuffed leather recliner and sat down, enjoying the comfort. Shauna took the chair?s twin, easing her long body down into it with a groan of relief. ?Damn back?s still screwed up,? she grumbled under her breath.

?Will you be okay before the season starts??

Shauna grinned. ?Oh yeah. No problem there.? Her smile faded just slightly. ?D tells me you got some questions about the politics in the league.?

A bit uncomfortable, Hodge rubbed at the back of her neck. ?Well, I do. Kind of. But I don?t want to intrude on your privacy.?

?Girl,? Shauna said, laughing, ?you?re not intruding on anything. Dylan trusts you, and that?s alright by me. Go on and ask your questions. I won?t bite.?

?Well,? Hodge said, still unsure, ?they have to do with?being gay.?

With a huge grin, Shauna leaned forward, clasping her large hands between her knees. ?You need some pointers? Alright! I can do that!?

Hodge laughed, feeling instantly better. ?No, no. No pointers. I need to know what it?s like?being gay in the league. How do you live your life without worrying about breaking the rules? I mean, I?ve lived openly for so long. How do I go back into the closet??

Shauna slumped back in her chair. ?Aw, Cat. It ain?t about going back into the closet. It?s about keeping your public face away from your private one. You understand??

?No, not really.?

?It?s like this, Cat. Once you go big time, you live in a bubble. A glass one. You might think you?re a basketball player, but you?re really fanbait. Once you take your first step out onto the court as a pro, your life isn?t your own anymore. You belong to them.?

?Them??

?The crowd. The people who pay to watch you play. If you?re any good at it, and D thinks you?re gonna be, they?ll wanna know everything about you. Everything.?

?God,? Hodge whispered, feeling a heavy, smothering weight descend upon her shoulders. ?How do you cope??

?You cope, my friend, by digging out this little piece of your life that?s yours and only yours. And you guard it, man, you guard it like it?s fuckin? Fort Knox. And the only people you let in are the people you want to let in.? Keeps favored Hodge with a look heavy with compassion. ?On the outside, you?re all smiles, the league?s newest sensation. But on the inside, where it counts, you?re you. You gotta keep ?em separated, or you?ll go down. Hard.?

Hodge thought about this for a long moment. ?But?what about Coach Lambert? I mean, she?s everywhere. She?s always giving interviews, posing for pictures when she?s out on the town. She doesn?t seem to have a problem with it.?

Shauna?s expression turned to one of deep sadness. ?That?s where you?re wrong, Cat. This shit is harder on her than on anyone I know. People think they know her, but nobody really does. Not down deep, not in here.? A long finger pointed to the center of Shauna?s chest. ?She?s so walled off that sometimes I?m scared for her, you know??

?I don?t understand,? Hodge replied, frustrated.

Shauna sighed. ?I know. And I?m not makin? it any easier. Why don?t I lay a little history on you. Maybe that?ll help.?

Hodge gave a grateful nod. ?Thank you.?

?Right before D hit the scene, the league was goin? down the tubes big time. The novelty of watching women jump around in tank tops was wearing off. People were complaining that the game was too slow, the scoring was too low, there was no offense, no defense, whatever. And then you had the gay thing.?

?Yeah,? Hodge replied, ?I remember hearing about that.?

?It hits most women?s sports sooner or later. We just got blasted especially hard. Folks stopped comin? to the games, stopped bringin? their kids, like they were gonna catch something. It just got outta control. Crash and burn time, baby.?

?And then along came the Goddess.?

?Exactly!? Shauna exclaimed, grinning. ?Here was this drop dead gorgeous hunk of womanflesh who could outshoot, outscore, outblock, outjam, and outrun anybody anywhere. And she was every man?s wet dream, in the flesh.? Keeps? mouth twisted, as if she?d bitten into a very bitter fruit. ?Too pretty to be a dyke, you know??

Hodge rolled her eyes in disgust.

?She didn?t care what they thought, though,? Shauna continued. ?She just wanted to play ball.?

?I bet they cared, though, right??

Shauna nodded. ?Right,? she bit off. ?They cared a lot. Especially when the stands started getting filled and the endorsement offers came rolling in. Seemed like everyone wanted D?s name on their product. Didn?t matter what it was, you know? As long as her name was on it, it sold.?

?And she liked the publicity??

?Hell no!? Shauna exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in her chair. ?She fucking hated it! But there really wasn?t anything she could do. Endorsement deals are part of the game, baby, and if you wanna play, you gotta pay.?

?Jesus. How did she handle it all??

?It was really hard, I know that. Hell, I have trouble coping, and I got nothing compared to her.?

?I think I?m beginning to see your point,? Hodge said finally.

Shauna grinned. ?Thought you would. More up there than just a pretty face, huh??

Hodge blushed and ducked her head. Keeps laughed.

?I?m still confused about one thing though.?

?Shoot,? Keeps invited, laughing a little at her unintentional pun.

?Well, you told me that in order to cope well, you need to keep your private life private.?

?Right.?

?But?for Dylan, it?s like you can?t turn on the television or open a magazine without seeing her out somewhere exotic with the stud of the month on her arm. So?how does that fit in with what you?re telling me??

?There?s actually a funny story about that,? Shauna replied.

?I?d like to hear it, if I could.?

Keeps shrugged. ?Don?t see why not.? She settled back, making herself more comfortable in the chair. Hodge followed suit. ?D was in the league only a month or two. Instant superstar, but nobody knew quite what to make of her, ya know? She?d give you an interview when you asked, but didn?t say nothing about herself. Then one day, she got a phone call from a friend of hers she grew up with. Thad Morgan.?

?The all pro quarterback? People?s Most Eligible Bachelor four years running? That Thad Morgan??

?That?s the dude. Anyway, he was headin? out to some awards banquet thing and he asked her to come along. She didn?t have anything else to do, so she went. Next day, every friggin paper in the country had her and Thad pasted across the sports pages, like they were one step away from shackin up!? Keeps paused in her story to laugh at the image. Hodge smiled politely as she waited for the emotions to pass.

?Sorry about that,? Shauna said finally, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

?That?s ok,? Hodge replied. ?So, the press jumped to the wrong conclusion. Did either of them correct the misconception??

?Nope.? Shauna grinned. ?In a way, it was perfect for both of them. See, when D went out, even to the damn store, she?d have to put up with getting hit on by every dude and his brother. Not many men are gonna tackle a chick whose got a boyfriend who could pull their nuts out through their throat, though. So it was all good.?

?Yeah, I can see the benefits of something like that.?

?As for Thad, well, aside from the fact that having D with him couldn?t do anything but improve his image, he had himself a little secret that being seen with D helped him to hide.?

Hodge thought about the cryptic remark for a moment. Then her eyes widened so much that Shauna thought they?d pop out of her skull and roll under the couch. ?Thad Morgan is gay?!??

Keeps cocked her head. ?You mean you didn?t know? Where?s your gaydar, girl??

Pinging off the screen anytime I?m within a hundred feet of Dylan Lambert. Hodge elected, however, to keep that particular thought to herself for the time being.

?That boy?s queerer than my mama?s frilly pink garter!?

?I never knew.?

?That?s cause he?s damn good at keeping his private life to himself. I mean, lesbians?in sports, it?s kinda expected, ya know? But if anyone ever found out that their macho man quarterback liked ham hocks better than oysters, well?.?

Hodge winced.

?You got that right, my friend. Anyway, the league about creamed itself over it They?ve finally got themselves the poster girl for clean heterosexual living. I heard the commissioner threw a big damn party for all the owners and they got wasted on champagne and fish eggs.?

?That is disgusting.?

Keeps sighed. ?I know. It sucks, don?t it??

?Royally.? Hodge looked up at her new friend, eyes bleak. ?I wish the world could be a place where stuff like that doesn?t matter anymore.?

Shauna felt pulled into those green eyes so filled with innocence, and yet sparkling with a sad type of knowing. Her heart tugged in her chest, and she came to a decision. ?I know, Cat. We all do. Dylan especially.?

Hodges? eyes widened again, though not so much from shock as from a suspicion finally confirmed. ?You mean???

?Yeah. I mean.?

?I?think I knew that already.?

?I?m sure you did,? Keeps responded, utterly serious. She leaned forward again, pinning Hodge with her frank stare. ?And I?m also sure you know that that kind of knowledge is a lot more power than most people deserve.?

The threat wasn?t subtle. Hodge could heft its weight, feel its texture, scent its danger. But she could also sense the implied trust that came with it. Shauna Keeps wasn?t the type of person who had accidents. And this was no accident.

?I won?t say a word to anyone,? she said softly. ?I promise.?

The tension broke as Keeps grinned and slumped back in her chair. ?You?re alright, Cat Hodges.?

Hodge could have wept with relief. Instead, she returned Shauna?s grin with one of her own. ?Thanks. You?re not so bad yourself, Keepaway.? As Keeps laughed, Hodge caught something in the other woman?s eye, and an impulse started her tongue before her mind could still it. ?You and Dylan were lovers, weren?t you.? She froze, horrified. ?Oh god. I can?t believe I just said that.?

It was Shauna?s turn to stare. She blinked once, then twice, but the question still hung in the air between them. Her quick mind came up with all sorts of evasions, but in the end, she decided to settle for the truth. ?Yes, we were. For a little over a year.?

Hodge nodded, her face still stark with embarrassment.

?It?s alright, Cat. No harm, no foul. I mean, it was a good thing, while it lasted. And we?re still best friends. But?loving D is like trying to hold the sun in your hands. It?s gonna take a special person to be able to do it right. And if there?s any person on this earth who deserves it to be done right, it?s her.?

?I?think I knew that, too.?

Dylan sat in her small office, long fingers clicking on the mouse at her right hand, scrolling through the profiles of available guards. It had been three days since she had sent Catherine Hodges to see Shauna, and as each moment passed without hearing from the young woman, Dylan became more certain that whatever was said between them had scared her off for good.

Taking her eyes from the monitor, she glared at the innocuous beige phone at her left hand, willing it to ring. Its continued silence mocked her, and she resisted the almost overwhelming urge to toss it against the wall just to hear it shatter.

Another mouse click and another bright face staring out at her in full Technicolor glory. She?d been through the list countless times this day alone and was still no closer to a decision than she had been three days ago.

She narrowed her eyes at the phone again, growling low in her throat. As if awaiting that particular threat, the phone suddenly came to life. She let it ring twice, then lifted the receiver, forcing a casualness of voice she didn?t feel. ?Badgers. Lambert.?

?Hi, Coach.?

The sound of Hodge?s voice brought a tentative smile to Dylan?s lips. ?Catherine.?

?I?I wanted to thank you for arranging for me to meet with Ms. Keeps. She explained a lot of things and really made me think.?

?I?m glad I could help.?

Hodge?s warm smile was evident in her voice. ?You did. And I wanted to let you know that if the offer?s still open, I would be honored to play for the Badgers.?

Dylan?s smile broke full upon her face, like the sun out from behind heavy clouds. Her fist pumped once, catching the attention of Mac, who was passing by the office. He stopped, turned, and stared.

?Hodge?? he mouthed.

Dylan nodded.

?Yes?? he mouthed again.

Dylan nodded again.

?Alright!? This, he didn?t mouth.

?Excuse me?? Hodge asked, hearing but not recognizing the commotion.

Scowling at Mac, Dylan returned her attention to the phone. ?The offer is most definitely still open,? she said, grinning for all she was worth. The expression felt strange on her face, but she decided that perhaps she liked it.

?Cool!?

?Yes, it is that. So, I?ll see you at the Crosstown Athletic Club next Saturday, then.?

?You definitely will!? Hodge could feel a joyous scream building in her throat. ?And Coach??

?Yes??

?Thanks.?

Dylan chuckled. ?You?re welcome, Catherine.?

Hearing the hum of an empty line, Dylan shook her head and racked the phone. She then turned off her computer, grabbed her jacket, and stood. ?Mac!?

?Yes??

?Shut it down, my friend. Drinks are on me.?

Mac?s joyful laughter could be heard throughout the building.

?Hello and welcome to Draft Day on ESPN. I?m your host, Mark Rogers, here with co-host Rebecca Thompson, former standout forward with the San Antonio Sting. Rebecca, it?s a crowded house here at the Crosstown Athletic Club, and the joint, as they say, is jumping.?

?It sure is, Mark. There?s a lot of excitement here tonight. And the biggest buzz is, as always, who will go number one.?

?That and the fact that Dylan Lambert, out of the public eye for pretty much the past few months, will be here to choose that number one player for the Birmingham Badgers.?

?That?s true, Mark. I saw her walk in just a few minutes ago, and she was absolutely mobbed.?

?No surprise there. So, tell me, who do you think she?s going to pick??

?The only thing I?m sure of, Mark, is that it?s going to be a guard. Most likely a point guard. She?s managed to build up a pretty solid team in the off-season, but the big weak spot in their lineup remains the point guard position.?

?Well, there?s a lot of talent to choose from in this year?s draft, Rebecca. Who do you think is the strongest contender, based on what you?ve heard so far??

?I?d have to say Keisha Brown is the strongest contender out there tonight, Mark. Despite the rumors of a dust up at pre-draft camp, she?s got the best skills of any of them. Plus, she?s got the height and the mental toughness that it will take to change a mediocre team like the Badgers into a winner.?

?Is there anybody else on the radar screen, or is Brown pretty much a slam dunk??

?I?ve heard some mumblings about Mela and Kela Jackson. Both of them are very strong point guards who?d be an asset to any team. They?re both more laid back than Brown, but that can be a curse as well as a blessing. Then there?s Nissa Tomlinson, but I?d have to say that her off-court troubles have put her at the back of the pack.?

?I?ve been hearing some talk about the little guard from the Huskies, Catherine Hodges. Any serious consideration being given to her??

?I?d have to say she?s pretty much of a dark horse, Mark. She?s shown some good leadership skills down the stretch for UCONN, but her height is a real disadvantage, and I think Dylan will go with a stronger player.?

?Doesn?t look like a long shot is in the cards today, huh??

?Doesn?t look that way, Mark.?

Dylan snorted as she palmed the remote and shut the television off. After pushing through the crowd to reach the confines of the so-called ?green room?, the silence was a blessing. Sighing, she rested her head back against the comfortable couch and rubbed at her temples to forestall another headache. She enjoyed the silence for a few moments before the door swung inward, admitting a tall, middle-aged, and attractive woman. Ryan Milton, coach of the perennial powerhouse Tampa Bay Tropics, was a face well known to fans of women?s basketball, college and pro alike. She was a joy to watch, coaching as she lived, with a frenetic intensity that earned her the nickname ?Tampa Tornado?.

Crossing the room in long, easy strides, Ryan slumped down onto the couch beside Dylan and let out a loud sigh. ?Place is a zoo,? she remarked in her trademark low, raspy voice.

?And we?re the trained gorillas,? Dylan replied without opening her eyes.

?Speak for yourself,? Ryan retorted, chuckling. ?I?m the Bengal Tiger.?

One eye, bearing a murderously teasing glint, was slowly revealed from beneath a once closed lid. ?So, if I want you to perform, all I have to do is flick my whip at you, hmm? I?ll keep that in mind.?

Dylan closed her eyes again, deliberately missing the slow, rosy flush that moved up from the ?V? in Ryan?s blouse until it met the roots of her auburn hair.

Silence reigned once again.

After she was sure that her blush had gone away and any tremor in her voice would be fully concealed, Ryan turned to Dylan. ?I?ve been authorized to offer you Michelle Madison and both of our second round picks in exchange for your number one.?

Opening her eyes, Dylan slowly turned her head, capturing and holding Ryan?s gaze effortlessly.

Ryan swallowed hard. ?C?mon, Dylan. You know Michelle is one of the better point guards out there. She?s a proven team leader, a great passer, and a good scorer.?

Dylan held her silence, perversely enjoying the other woman?s discomfiture.

?I know who you?ve got your eye on, Dylan, and I can assure you, she?ll still be around in the second round. No one else is going after her. And this way, you get a veteran who can teach her the ropes, and two high picks that you don?t have now.?

?You really want that center badly, don?t you,? Dylan said finally.

Ryan nodded. ?Yes, I do. Badly enough to go to my boss and practically beg him to let me do this deal.?

Dylan was silent for a long moment, then stood. ?I?m sorry, but you wasted your time, Ryan. No deal.?

Ryan stood up as well, yelling at the broad back presented her as Dylan headed for the door. ?You?re wasting your pick, Lambert! That kid will turn out to be the laughing stock of the league, and you?ll go down right along with her!!?

An enigmatic smile tossed over one shoulder was her only answer.

Hodge sat in the roped off area in the center of the room, waiting with the rest of the hopeful draftees for the show to begin.. She tried not to show how nervous she really was. Never let ?em see you sweat, she kept telling herself over and over as everything was readied to make the grand announcement.

Looking across the room, she smiled at the sight of her family, bunched protectively together. Her brothers, she could tell, were doing their very best to behave, and while her mother looked pensive, her father was positively beaming.

Hodge stopped her foot from bouncing and begged whatever heavenly spirit might be listening to bring this torture to an end. As if in answer to her prayer, the commissioner stepped up to the podium and, after shuffling his papers several times, began to speak.

Dylan stood waiting in the wings, tuning out the commissioner?s prepared speech. Her own short announcement was easily memorized, and all that was left was to convince herself for a final time that her decision was the correct one. Not that she needed to. Dylan was nothing if not decisive. Instead, she amused herself by picturing the crowd?s shocked reaction when she dropped her little bombshell. Unfelt, a smirk curled the corner of her mouth.

When the commissioner turned and caught her eye, she came back to the present and nodded to indicate her readiness to proceed. He gave her a quick smile before returning his attention to the audience.

?And now that I?ve put you all to sleep with my opening remarks, I?ll try and wake you all back up by introducing the holder of the first pick in this year?s draft. Representing the Birmingham Badgers, Ms. Pallas Dylan Lambert.?

The crowd erupted into loud, sustained cheering as Dylan made her way across the room to the podium. An entire constellation?s worth of flashes went off simultaneously, capturing forever the image of their beloved Goddess.

Swept up in the crowd?s excitement, Hodge found herself standing with the rest, applauding for all she was worth and cheering herself hoarse. She watched Dylan turn her head away from the cameras? bright flashes, and at that moment, their eyes met, and locked.

For Hodge, the sounds around her faded beneath the loud hiss of blood in her ears. She knew she was still clapping, she could feel the motion in her arms, but it was as if she was bringing two blocks of wood together repeatedly for all she could feel of her hands. There was something between them. She could feel it, as if someone had stretched an invisible, thrumming wire from one to the other, connecting them in that one brief infinity in a way that was a little frightening in its intensity.

Behind the podium, Dylan felt the same strange pull, not so much a physical reaction as one borne deep within her oft times buried emotions. She allowed herself a brief moment to analyze the sensation, then quickly raised the walls she?d built to protect her from public scrutiny.

The applause finally died down, and the guests found their seats once again.

?Thanks for the welcome,? Dylan said, flashing the brilliant smile that had made the covers of untold numbers of magazines throughout the years. There was some laughter and some cheering in response before the room quickly became quiet and filled with eager anticipation.

?On behalf of the Badgers, it is my pleasure to announce that the first pick of this year?s draft is?? She paused, looking around and enjoying the control she had over the crowd. ?Catherine Frances Hodges.?

Stunned silence filled the room for several long seconds. Then a murmur of disbelief rose up like fresh water bubbling in a tidal pool. Isolated, almost hesitant applause, broke out and spread throughout the audience.

As if she were viewing events from within a tunnel, Hodge barely felt the congratulatory slaps her fellow draftees were bestowing on her. She felt herself come to her feet, and briefly wondered if she might faint. Dylan?s expectant gaze lanced into her again, and she felt pulled forward by the strength of that warm look alone.

Finally, though the distance she?d traversed seemed like miles rather than a few scant yards, she reached the podium and accepted Dylan?s firm handclasp.

?Congratulations,? Dylan said, then softened her tone. ?You alright??

?I?I think so. Just?if this is a dream, please don?t wake me up, alright??

Dylan laughed. ?It?s no dream. Here.? She draped a purple and black Badgers jersey emblazoned with the number 3 over Hodge?s chest and set a Badgers cap atop her head. ?Welcome to the Badgers, Catherine.?

?Thank you,? Hodge replied, slowly coming out of her daze. ?Thank you so much.?

?Thank you.?

A split second later, Hodge felt herself easily pulled alongside Dylan, and together they smiled as the cameras flashed once again.

Hodge took a deep breath and braced her hands against the wall of the green room, trying to calm herself before the upcoming press conference. Straightening, she found a pitcher of water on a nearby table and poured herself a glass. As she drank the cool liquid she ran her fingers over her jersey, which was lying over a chair. ?They?re gonna retire this number when I?m done.?

?That?s the attitude.?

Hodge closed her eyes and bit her tongue gently when she heard Dylan?s voice behind her. ?Why does this keep happening?? She turned around to find the tall woman leaning in the doorway.

?What??

?You keep showing up when I say or do something stupid.?

?Lucky I guess.? Dylan pushed off the doorframe and entered the room. She smiled slightly, brushing her hand against Hodge?s jersey. ?I said almost the exact same thing when I got drafted.?

?Yeah, but your number is retired.?

?Sure. And yours will be too.?

Hodge?s eyes widened. ?How can you be so sure??

Dylan grinned. ?Wouldn?t have drafted you otherwise.? She laughed at the astonished look she received, and touched Hodge lightly on the shoulder. ?C?mon. Let?s go face the press.?

A side door opened, and Dylan entered the large room filled with reporters. Hodge followed close on her heels. Cameras flashed and whirred, and the excited hum of voices grew and swelled.

The two women crossed to the long, microphone-festooned table and took the two chairs nearest the center, settling down in them with nearly identical grace. The questions started up almost immediately, but Dylan held up a hand. ?One at a time, ladies and gentlemen. One at a time.? She pointed to a red-headed young man from Sports Illustrated. ?Mark? You go first.?

?Ms. Lambert, you had a wide range of outstanding players to choose from in this draft. Why did you settle on a relative unknown like Catherine Hodges?

Smiling, Dylan folded her hands in front of her. ?She?s the best.?

The reporter shuffled the papers in his hands, then waved them. ?I have the statistics here, and?.?

?Have you ever seen her play, Mark?? she asked in a deceptively mild voice.

?Well, no, but?.?

?I?m surprised at you, Mark. You normally do your homework better than this.?

Mark flushed as snickering laughter scattered through the room.

Dylan fixed the man with a pointed stare. ?I was instructed to go after the best guard in the draft. Catherine Hodges is the best. It?s really as simple as that.?

?But??

?Next question, please. Sandra??

?This question is for Ms. Hodges. Ms. Hodges, how did it feel when you heard your name announced as the first pick in the draft??

Hodge grinned. ?Amazing,? she said, drawing the word out.

Good natured laughter accompanied her declaration.

?How does it feel to be drafted by a team with a less than sterling record??

This question came from Mark. Dylan narrowed her eyes at him, then tipped her head in a gracious ?touch? gesture. The reporter smirked.

Prick, Hodge said to herself. ?Well, the Badgers have shown tremendous improvement since Coach Lambert took over. She?s worked very hard to make the team a winner and I hope I can help in that process.?

Dylan didn?t bother to hide her own smirk. The reporter flushed again. Dylan?s eyes flashed. She was enjoying herself.

The press conference went on with standard questions of the type asked of many a draftee on many a draft. Then came a question that wasn?t standard.

?Ms. Hodges will you use your new position to advance the cause of gay and lesbian rights??

For a brief moment, Hodge froze, clearly not expecting the question. Then, beneath the table, she felt a brief touch on her wrist. The touch was warm, and full of confidence. Hodge immediately calmed. Her thoughts became ordered, and she spoke the words her heart knew were true. ?The only thing I am going to use my new position to advance, Ma?am, is the Birmingham Badgers to a winning season, and hopefully the playoffs.?

The reporter?s lips twisted. ?Spouting the company line already, Ms. Hodge? Your sexuality was always openly known in the past?.?

?And it?s openly known in the present, Ma?am, as you have so clearly pointed out.?

Dylan bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from bursting into laughter at the expression on the reporter?s face.

?Is there anything else, Ma?am?? Catherine asked, the very picture of innocence.

Her sails deflated, the woman sat down in her chair, scowling.

?I think that wraps it up, ladies and gentlemen,? Dylan said, standing. ?We?ll see you in the playoffs.?

As soon as the door closed behind them, both Dylan and Catherine broke into laughter. Finally calming, Dylan shook her head. ?And they wonder why I picked you.?

?I?m just glad you did,? Hodge replied honestly.

Dylan looked at her for a long moment, then smiled. ?So am I.?

Hodge could only shake her head as she walked down the hall of the hotel. Even from all the way down the hall she could hear her brothers laughing and hollering, leading her unerringly to her family?s room.

She opened the door and was immediately set upon by the twins who grabbed her around the waist, one up front, one behind, making her the stuffing in a people sandwich.

?Hey guys!?

?This is great Cat!? Mark shouted at the top of his lungs.

?You?re going to be a big star!? Luke shouted even louder.

?Easy guys, I?ve got a long way to go before I hit big star.?

?If anyone can do it, Cat, you can.? Pulling the boys away from her, Hodge?s mother wrapped her arms around her daughter. ?I?m so very proud of you.?

?Thanks Mom. You have no idea how much that means to me.?

They made their way further into the room, where it appeared that her father had ordered at least one of everything from the room service menu. ?Dad, how can you afford all this? The suite, the food?? She plucked a bottle from an ice bucket. ??the champagne.?

?Hey, you let me worry about that. This is your party. Your job is to enjoy it.?

?Dad??

A knock on the door sent on of the boys scurrying to open it. ?Welcome to the room of the great Cat Hodges!? he piped up as he pulled the door open and came face to belly button with a body much, much taller than he was. His blonde head tipped back, then back further, until the face of Dylan Lambert came into view. ?Um?.?

?Hello there, little man,? Dylan rumbled, her face set in its most serious expression. ?Is the great Cat Hodges receiving visitors??

?Um?. She?s?.she?s?.you?re?.um?.?

From within the loving grasp of her father?s embrace, Hodge chanced to look toward the door just in time to see Dylan fill it with her unmistakable presence. Pulling away from her father, she hurried to the entrance just in time to catch her brother as he toppled backwards.

?Sorry about that,? she murmured. ?He?s?a little star struck.?

?Must run in the family,? Dylan teased.

?It must.? Setting her brother back on his feet and sending him off with a fond swat to the rump, Hodge shook her head and motioned the coach into the room. When she closed the door she turned to find that her entire family was standing slack jawed. ?Coach Lambert I?d like to introduce my family. Who have just turned into statues for your amusement.?

Her oldest brother finally found his senses, laying somewhere around his shoes with his tongue and he managed to take a step forward, offering Dylan his hand. ?Pleasure to meet you Miss Lambert.? Though the highschooler was well past puberty, he was mortified to hear his voice crack several times His blush rivaled his sister?s at its most vivid.

?Dylan, or Coach. Pleasure to meet you too John.?

Hodge took a step back and watched as her bothers took fawning to new heights, tripping over themselves in order to be the first to greet Dylan and shake her hand. Kevin even managed to ask Dylan for her autograph, which she gracefully gave.

?Leave her alone guys,? Hodge growled finally, shooing them to the other side of the room. ?Coach, these are my parents, Ilene and Joseph Hodges.?

Dylan nodded to the both of them, then shook hands warmly with each in turn. ?It?s a pleasure to meet you in person. Catherine has told me a lot about you.?

Cat?s mother laughed. ?Yes, and we?ve heard all there is to hear about you for the last five years.?

?Oh God Mom?? Hodge groaned and turned her back, wishing the world would just end.

?So,? her mother continued, undaunted, ?it?s nice to finally meet you in person.?

?Thank you,? Joseph interjected, tears misting his eyes, ?for making my little girl?s dreams come true.?

Dylan smiled, liking the older man immediately. His hands were the rough hands of a hard working man, his grip warm and strong. It was obvious his daughter favored him highly, and she, in turn, was the apple of his eye.

While her parents talked to Dylan, Hodge took the time to grab a soda from the table. She waited for a lull in the conversation then stepped forward.

?So Coach what brings you this way? I didn?t think I?d see you ?til rookie camp.?

Dylan tossed Hodge the item she?d been carrying. ?You forgot this.?

Cat looked in the bag and shook her head. She had forgotten her jersey. ?I?m sorry Coach.?

?S?okay. It happens.?

?Yeah, but it always seems to happen with me.?

?Coach Lambert can we offer you something to drink?? Joseph asked, hoping to deflect his daughter?s embarrassment.

?Thanks, but I need to get going. I just didn?t want our star going topless for her first game.? She grinned. ?We?ll try letting her skills speak for her instead.?

?Can I walk you to your car?? Hodge asked, warning herself not to blush.

?Sure. I can go over a few things with you on the way.? Dylan turned to Hodge?s family. ?It was very nice meeting you all. I hope we?ll see you again during the season.?

?Already have my season tickets,? Joseph said, every inch the proud father.

With one final smile, Dylan turned and left, Hodge in tow.

Standing by the elevator, Dylan caught Hodge?s eye. She smiled. ?Good job at the press conference. Well played.?

Hodge grinned. ?Thanks. I?ll admit that the question threw me for a loop, but the talk I had with Shauna really helped.?

?I?m glad she was able to fill you in on everything.?

By the look in Hodge?s eyes, Dylan knew that ?everything? did, in fact, mean everything.

The elevator doors opened. Hodge and Dylan stepped inside, and Dylan pushed the button for the lobby. Silence hung between them as the elevator made its way down to the ground floor.

Just before the doors opened, Hodge turned to Dylan. ?I want you to know that I will keep what Shauna and I discussed in the strictest confidence,? she said softly. ?I?ll never tell anyone.?

Dylan smiled, and nodded. ?I know. Thanks.?

They walked out to the rental, which was waiting in front of the hotel entrance. Going to the trunk, Dylan retrieved her leather briefcase and snapped it open, pulling from within a series of business cards and forms which she handed over to Hodge.

?When you get back home, contact Mac at this number. He?ll set up a time for you to meet and discuss your contract. I?d strongly suggest retaining a lawyer, someone who specializes in contract law, to go with you when you start negotiations. I?d also suggest looking for an agent.?

?I can do that,? Hodge replied. ?Can you recommend anyone for me??

?It wouldn?t be ethical for me to recommend either for you since I represent the ?company? you?ll be working for.? She handed over several more cards. ?Here are some of the contact numbers of players I know and trust. You can ask them for their recommendations. Give Shauna a call too, if you want. She?ll be able to help.?

?I?ll call them as soon as I get home.?

?Good. You should also contact a realtor to set up some housing arrangements for you. Here?s the number of the one I?ve used. She?s very good at what she does.? After handing Hodge the final card, she smiled. ?Rookie camp starts in a month. Relax and have fun during your time off, but try to keep up your conditioning. I don?t run an easy camp.?

Hodge grinned. ?Thanks for the warning.?

Dylan returned the grin. ?Goodbye for now, Catherine. And thanks again.?

They clasped hands warmly, and then Dylan slipped into her car and was gone.

Hodge watched the car recede into the distance, a wistful smile on her face. Then she turned and headed back to the cheerful madhouse that was her beloved family.

Blowing out a cleansing breath, Hodge stood before the imposing, glass walled office building and smoothed out the creases in her dress slacks. She knew she was stalling, but her mind wasn?t quite up to the task of ordering her body around this morning. It didn?t help that her sorry excuse for a contract lawyer had chosen 10pm the evening before to call and cancel on her. She?d spent the rest of the night debating with herself over what to do, but in the end decided that showing up alone was better than not showing up at all. After all, this was a job interview, not Mrs. Smithers? Adolescent Psych course.

A mental kick in the rear finally got her body in gear, and she grasped the ornate door handle, pulled it wide, and stepped into the lobby?s blessed coolness.

Her heels rang loudly as she crossed the vast expanse of dark-veined marble tiling, staring ahead at the gigantic crystal fountain and its rendering of a crystal basketball player holding a crystal basketball high aloft.

Passing the fountain, and marveling at the amount of money it must have taken to create such a thing, she immediately spied a long desk behind which a uniformed security guard was sitting. On the wall above him was a gigantic rendering of the Badgers? logo, all done up in tiny purple and black tiles.

Stepping up to the desk, she gave the guard her friendliest smile. ?Hello, my name is Catherine Hodges. I?m here to meet with Mr. MacKenzie.?

?Mr. MacKenzie is expecting you, Ma?am,? the guard replied, sliding a clipboard across to her. ?Please sign in, and I?ll give you your badge.?

After signing her name, Hodge accepted the visitor?s badge from the guard and clipped it to her lapel.

?Take these elevators, Ma?am, and get off on the seventh floor. Down the hall to your left is Mr. MacKenzie?s office. You can?t miss it.?

?Thank you.?

The trip up was a quick one, and Hodge stepped out into a large, open area whose walls were windows and whose floors were the same dark marble as in the lobby. Turning left, she walked down a hallway that wasn?t really a hallway at all, until she came upon a wide door bearing the name of the general manager on a golden plaque.

The door swung open easily, and she stepped into Mac?s plush offices. The reception office was large and decorated in pleasing, neutral tones. Two long leather couches sat against two of the walls, fronted by a low slung glass table that was liberally scattered with sports magazines.

To the right, an attractive young woman sat behind a large reception desk. The receptionist smiled as Hodge entered. ?Good morning, Ms. Hodges.?

Taken aback for a second, Hodge quickly recovered and returned the young woman?s smile. ?Good morning.?

?I?ll let Mac know you?re in. He should be out in just a minute.?

Hodge waited patiently as the receptionist made a short phone call. True to her word, within a minute, the door to the inner office opened and Mac strode into the room, a beaming smile on his face. ?It?s good to see you again, Catherine,? he exclaimed, grasping her hand in a firm shake. ?Welcome aboard.?

?Thank you, Mr. MacKenzie. It?s good to be aboard.?

?Ah?Mac, please. Otherwise I?ll think you?re talking to my dad.?

?Mac it is then,? Hodge returned, grinning.

?Good. Glad we got that settled.? Mac looked around the otherwise empty outer office. ?Your lawyer?s a little late, I see.?

?Actually, he?s going to be a lot later. He called me late last night to tell me he wasn?t going to show. Something about some Hollywood starlet he?s representing.?

?Oh. Well, that might pose a bit of a problem. Since you?ve never signed a contract before, I?m not sure how comfortable I feel negotiating it without you being represented.?

?Well?is it unethical to let me take a look at it? I promise not to sign anything until I?ve found another lawyer.?

Mac was silent for a moment, considering. ?I suppose it can?t hurt anything. C?mon.?

They walked into Mac?s office and sat down at the conference table. Mac handed over a thick, bound document. Hodge stared it in disbelief.

?What, you thought it was gonna be a couple of pieces of notebook paper stapled together,? he teased.

?I had textbooks smaller than this in college!?

Mac laughed. ?Welcome to the world of professional sports, Cat.?

Opening the cover, Hodge was immediately assaulted with so much legalese that her Latin teacher wouldn?t have been able to decipher it. Mac walked her through each section of the contract, explaining as best he could what was represented in the paragraphs.

When he got to the salary section, Hodge tried her best not to show her surprise. She?d known going in that the base rates?for rookies especially?were nothing short of pitiful. Though higher than a teacher?s starting salary, it wasn?t by much. The number she saw displayed before her was a good deal more than she?d been expecting.

She rose her eyes to Mac, who smiled. ?You were the first pick in the draft,? he explained. A long finger pointed to the next paragraphs. ?I?m authorized to give you a tenth of your base salary up front as a signing bonus. Then you have the standard incentive bonuses, both individual and team. The better you do, and the better we do, the more money comes in.?

?That makes sense,? Hodge agreed.

?You?ll also receive a percentage of any team merchandise that features you exclusively, including posters, jerseys, caps, and jackets.? He flipped a page. ?And here are the endorsement clauses. All endorsements need to be cleared through the team first, because your identity will be tied up with the team.? Another page. ?This is your housing allowance. If you don?t have a realtor, I can give you a few names.?

?Dylan gave me the name of hers.?

?Good choice.?

The next half hour was spent discussing the health and life insurance benefits displayed in the contract, and answering any questions Hodge had about what she read.

After there were no more questions, Hodge stood and thanked Mac for his time. Mac stood as well. ?Are you headed for home tonight??

?No. I?m booked for the week. I figured I?d take that time to contact the realtor, but now it looks like I?m gonna be phoning lawyers.?

?Do you have any in mind??

?No, but I?ll look for one, that?s for sure. I?d like to get this contract signed.?

?Why don?t you go ahead and get with the realtor. Let me see what I can do from the lawyer end.? He held up a hand. ?No, I?m not talking about retaining one directly for you. Just let me call around and see who?s available, alright??

Hodge grinned. ?Thanks for doing this for me.?

?No sweat. Let me make a few phone calls and see what?s up. Do you have the number where you?re staying??

Hodge handed over a slip of paper with her phone number written on it.

?Good. Ok, you go on, relax, meet up with the realtor, and I?ll see what I can do from this end, ok??

?Sounds good. Thanks again.?

?No sweat. Now g?wan, get outta here so I can get to work.?

As soon as Hodge left the office, Mac crossed to his desk and picked up the phone.

Groaning, Dylan lowered herself onto the couch and propped her leg on the two pillows situated for that purpose. Covered with three bags of ice and wrapped in an ace bandage, her knee throbbed like a rotted tooth.

She had no sooner settled into a somewhat bearable position when Brunhilde trotted over, sat, and with a sigh worthy of a martyred mother, put her large head on Dylan?s bare belly. ?I know, I know, I overdid it.?

Baleful eyes blinked up at her.

?Well you try spending more time up in the air than on the ground and see what it does for your conditioning!?

Brunhilde sighed again.

?Thanks for the sympathy, sweetheart. See how many treats you get from now on.?

The Doberman wuffed softly at the sound of one of her favorite words, but when no such treat was immediately forthcoming, she rested her head on her master?s belly again.

?It wouldn?t have been so bad if your fleabitten excuse for a brother hadn?t decided that a fast break drill was the perfect time to suddenly learn how to play fetch.? She looked around. ?Speaking of which, where is the old fleabag anyway.?

Lifting her head, Brunhilde looked over her shoulder. Dylan followed the gaze to see Siegfried sprawled out on his back, legs splayed to the wind, tongue out, drooling, and dead to the world. Dylan snorted. ?Men.?

An annoying chirping sound caused Dylan to dig beneath her back for her cell phone. Checking the caller ID, she flipped the phone open. ?Yeah, Mac. What?s up.?

?Our chick has flown the nest.?

Dylan scowled. ?Did I just get dumped into a James Bond film when I wasn?t looking, C-7??

Mac laughed. ?No. Catherine Hodges just left.?

?That was pretty quick.?

?Would probably have taken longer, but her lawyer punked out on her, so I just took her through the contract and held off signing till she can find someone else.?

?Great. You have anybody in mind??

?No,? came Mac?s contrite response. ?I?m all tapped out. I was hoping you could?.?

?Fine,? Dylan sighed. ?Let me see what I can do.?

?Thanks, D!?

?You owe me for this one, Mac.?

?Yeah, yeah, put it on my tab.?

?Later.? Dylan closed her phone just as the house phone began ringing. Reaching behind her, she picked up the handset. ?Lambert.?

?Good afternoon, Ms. Lambert.? The heavy southern twang of Horace Johnson?s voice oozed through the phone line and into Dylan?s ear. Her lips curled up in disgust.

?Afternoon, Horace. What can I do for you??

?Well?I just got a call from the owner of the Tropics. Seems his coach lobbied a sweet little deal for us, and you turned her down flatter than a two dollar whore.?

?That?s right, I did.?

?Mind telling me why? Jack says our pick would have still been there in the second round. Sounds to me like you might have put the cart in front of the horse.?

?Probably because I didn?t like the load of fertilizer she was trying to sell me. Horace, you know as well as I do that Michelle Madison is an over-the-hill grunt with knees worse than mine. She won?t even pass a physical this season. You know it, I know it, and the league knows it. Milton was trying to peddle her off to anyone blind enough to look twice at her. And her second round picks were so low that we couldn?t have gotten anyone worth spit.?

?Still?.?

?Still nothing, Horace. Think about it. They?re our conference rivals, and she was selling this shit just to get her hands on that hot new center. You know?last year?s shot blocking leader? Did you really want us to go up against that all season??

?Well?I suppose you might have something there.?

?You know I do, Horace. Catherine Hodges is going to lift this team to the next level. I wouldn?t have picked her if I thought otherwise.?

?Still don?t like her, though.?

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Dylan contemplated slamming it several times against her table, then decided not to scar the wood. ?You don?t have to like her, Horace. But I bet you?re gonna start liking her when you see the money she?s going to bring in.?

?I hope you?re right.?

?I know I am.?

?Alright then,? he said after a long pause. ?Just remember our deal.?

?I remember, Horace. Believe me, I remember. Anything else??

?Nope. Goodbye.?

?Goodbye to you too, you sanctimonious, bigoted shithead,? she growled into an empty line.

She had just hung up the phone when it rang again. ?What the hell is this, Grand Fucking Central Station?!?? She picked up the handset. ?Yeah!??

There was a moment of silence before a hesitant voice came on the line. ?Is this Dylan??

Dylan rolled her eyes to heaven. ?Yeah, Hunter, it?s me. What?s up??

?Are?you okay??

Great. Trade one shithead for another. This really isn?t my day. ?I?m just fine, Hunter. What can I do for you today?? I know what I?d like to do, but I think it?s still illegal in most states.

?Well, I was getting worried because you weren?t returning my phone calls.?

?Well, Hunter, that?s probably because I was busy. You know, with the draft and all??

Comprehension dawned. ?Ohhh. Yeah, I remember something about that.?

Dylan rubbed at the bridge of her nose, begging for strength. ?Is there anything else, Hunter, because I?m just about to step into the shower and?.?

?Well yes, yes! There is something. My second movie is premiering on Friday at Mann?s and I was wondering if you could attend it with me??

It was on the tip of Dylan?s tongue to refuse. Her leg was shooting bolts of pain up into her belly, her head ached like an anvil had been dropped on it, and she really wanted to just find someplace cool and dark and curl up in a ball until it all passed. The thought of spending even one minute with the man on the other end of the phone made her guts churn.

Then a thought struck her. A thought which caused a truly evil grin to spread over her face. ?Is your family going to be there??

?Yes.? The word was drawn out. ?But you don?t have to worry, they?ll be sitting behind us.?

Oh I?m not worried, Mr. Stud Wannabe. Try touching me in the dark and you?ll be minus a few fingers. ?Hm. Well, I don?t think I?m doing anything on Friday, so I suppose I could make it.?

?Great! Great! Wonderful! I?ll have the Lear sent down to pick?.?

?No, no. That won?t be necessary. I?ll just book a flight.?

?But Dylan?.?

?I said I?d take care of it, Hunter. Will that be all??

?Well?I guess so.?

?Good. I?ll see you Friday, then. Goodbye.?

She hung up the phone with a sense of dawning relief. ?Well, girl, looks like I just killed a couple of birds with one stone.?

Brunhilde cocked her head, and Dylan laughed, suddenly feeling much better than she had not a minute before.

Camera flashes turned night into day as Dylan stepped out of the limousine, grasping the chauffeur?s guiding hand and straightening to her full height. Hunter stepped out behind her, laying a gentle, if proprietary, hand on the small of her back. His thousand megawatt smile outshone all the lights as he looked upon the teeming, fawning crowd.

Of course, he had every reason to smile. His new movie was a hit before it had even been released, and he had on his arm one of the most beautiful women in the world.

Dylan was stunning in her black, silk dress. Cut to mid thigh, it had spaghetti straps and a neckline deep enough to tantalize. Her hair flowed freely over her shoulders and back, and small diamond studs winked brilliantly in her ears.

The two began to walk the gauntlet of paparazzi, smiling and nodding with practiced ease while avoiding the outstretched arms of a crowd straining the barriers on either side of the carpeted walkway.

The theater, by contrast, was quiet and dim. Two uniformed guards escorted the pair down the carpeted aisle and into plush seats near the front where they would have an unobstructed view of the movie. They remained, positioning themselves at either end of the row of seats, in order to keep the crowds away.

Dylan was, as always, less than thrilled with this. While she valued her privacy, and understood the need for security measures in some public venues, she hated the obvious lines drawn between what the public perceived as the ?haves? and the ?have nots?.

Still, she reminded herself of the reasons for being in this place, and resolved to grin and bear it as best she could.

She surprised herself by actually enjoying the movie. It was a light romantic comedy that was a vast departure from Hunter?s usual ?he-man? roles, and he was quite good in it. Ever gracious, she told him as much, and by the smile on his face, one would have wondered if she had just accepted a proposal of marriage.

The two ran the gauntlet again on their way back to the limousine for a quick trip to the post-premier party being held at a popular, and trendy, nightclub nearby.

Once they were inside the already packed club, Hunter?s agent swept him away to meet with the fawning critics, leaving Dylan blessedly alone at last. The throbbing bass made her eardrums vibrate as she made her way to the bar to order a mineral water from a starry-eyed bartender.

Turning her back to the bar, she sipped the water as she eyed the crowd. Her height, easily topping all but the very tallest men, gave her a decided advantage, and her eyes lit up with a predatory gleam as she spotted exactly who she was looking for shaking it up on the dance floor.

Easing her way through the crowd with sinuous grace, she approached the dance floor and laid a hand on the shoulder of her prey, causing the tousle-headed brunette to jump and spin and almost land in Dylan?s arms.

The young woman?s eyes widened. ?My shrink was wrong,? she breathed. ?There really are Goddesses still roaming the earth.?

Dylan rolled her eyes, grinning. ?Evening, Haley.?

A slow smile lit up Haley?s face. ?Dylan Lambert. God, it?s good to see you!?

The two women hugged, then pulled slowly away. ?Jesus, Dylan?you look fantastic!?

?You?re not looking so bad yourself, my friend.?

?Maybe not, but?wow! What are you doing here? I mean?this isn?t exactly your type of hangout, you know? And this getup!?

Dylan laughed softly. ?I see you and your brother still aren?t talking.?

?Hunter? What does he?.? Her dark eyes widened again. ?You?! You?re his date for the premier?!? Damn! If I would have known that, I?d have gone to the damn thing!?

?Yeah.? Dylan looked around. ?Can we go someplace a little quieter??

Haley grinned. ?Lead on, baby. I?m allll yours.?

Shaking her head, Dylan led them to a small enclosed patio at the rear of the club. The night was blessedly cool and quiet. ?I need to ask you a favor.?

?Oh yeah?? Haley asked, grinning and moving closer to her tall companion. ?What kind of favor??

?Slow down, Romeo,? Dylan said, putting a hand on Haley?s shoulder. ?A business favor.?

Haley pouted. ?I haven?t seen you in months and you want to talk about business??

?Yes. I do.?

?Alright,? she replied, sighing. ?What do you need.?

?I need you to represent my first pick, Catherine Hodges.?

Haley?s brows knit. ?Me? Why??

?Because you?re the best,? Dylan replied. ?And because she needs someone like you.?

?Someone like?.? Oh! You mean because she?s gay.?

?Yes. She?s gay. And because of that, she?s going to have one hell of a time getting someone to fairly represent her. We both know it’s true.? Frustrated, Dylan turned and stared over the stone wall into the darkness beyond. ?I wouldn?t ask you if I didn?t think it was important.?

Haley, normally a cool, competent, and yes?sometimes slimy?lawyer felt an unexpected burst of compassion for her normally unflappable companion. Closing the distance between them, she laid a gentle hand on Dylan?s back. ?Aww, D, you know I?ll help. I saw her at the press conference. She seems like a good kid.?

?She is. But she?s also just out of college, and is used to having people accept her for who she is. This is gonna be a big transition for her, and she?s going to need all the help she can get. I?d like you to be that help, Haley. You represent a number of well-known gay entertainers, and you know your way around the system.?

?I?ll give her a call tomorrow morning.?

?Thank you.?

Haley smirked. ?You?re welcome. Now, what?s in it for me??

Dylan turned, and leaned down slowly so that a hairsbreadth separated their lips. Haley closed her eyes, her heart thundering in her chest.

?My?eternal?gratitude.?

Haley finally opened her eyes to find Dylan standing several feet away from her.

?You shit!!?

Dylan smirked. ?A pleasure doing business with you, Haley.?

?God damn you, Dylan Lambert,? Haley said, laughing. ?You should have been a lawyer.?

?Mm. I?ll consider that a compliment.? Dylan put a companionable arm around the smaller woman?s shoulders. ?C?mon, let?s get back to the ?party?.?

Hodge lay sprawled on her hotel bed, watching television and waiting for the phone to ring. Mac had called her on Thursday telling her to expect a phone call regarding a lawyer either Friday evening or Saturday morning. It was now Saturday evening, and the expected phone call still hadn?t come through.

She raised the remote and pointed it at the television, listlessly flicking through the channels yet again. Nothing caught her interest, and she dropped the remote back onto the bed, sighing. Hodge was the type of woman who needed activity in her life, and as far as she was concerned, sitting in a hotel room on a Saturday waiting for the phone to ring ranked at the very bottom of her preferred activities list. Especially when she?d been doing it all day.

Flopping onto her belly, she grabbed the book she?d brought from the hotel?s gift shop and started thumbing through it, not really reading the words. Moments later, she fell asleep out of sheer boredom.

An hour passed unrealized. Then another. A third was ready to make an appearance when the phone rang, startling Hodge out of a deep slumber. Muzzily, she felt around for the phone until her hand struck it, almost knocking it off the night stand.

?Hello??

?Catherine Hodges??

The slight New York accent sounded familiar, but Hodge?s cobwebby brain couldn?t quite place it. ?Yes??

?Hi, Catherine. My name is Haley Locke.?

Again, something familiar. This time, a name. But still, her mind wouldn?t cooperate. ?May I help you??

The laugh that came over the phone was warm. ?Actually, I think I?m supposed to be asking you that question.?

Brows furrowed, Hodge swung to a sitting position on the bed, wondering if she had awakened in the Twilight Zone. ?Can we start this over, do you think? I just woke up and my mind?s not quite in gear here.?

A moment of silence, then a slightly chagrinned voice came back over the line. ?I forgot the time difference. I?m so sorry. I can call again tomorrow, if that would be better for you.?

?No, no, it?s alright, Ms. Locke.? Comprehension dawned. ?Haley Locke! The agent!?

Haley laughed again. ?That?s me.?

?Oh God! I mean?Mac told me to expect a phone call. I just?.?

?Fell asleep.?

Hodge rubbed a hand over her face. ?Yeah. I?m sorry.?

?For sleeping? Don?t be. I should have called you earlier anyway. I sometimes forget that not everyone operates on LA time.? Haley shuffled the papers in her hands to cover an awkward pause. ?As you?ve probably guessed by now, the reason for my call is to ask whether you?ve obtained legal representation for yourself.?

?No,? Hodge replied. ?I had a lawyer, but he sort of ditched me at the altar the other day.?

?That?s a lawyer for you,? Haley commented, chuckling.

?Aren?t you a lawyer??

?Shh. Don?t spread that around. People might talk.?

Hodge found herself laughing, instantly at ease with the wise-cracking woman on the other end of the phone.

?Well, your misfortune is, as they say, my good fortune. If you?re planning on being in Birmingham for a little while longer, I?d like the opportunity to fly down and discuss the possibility of representing you.?

Hodge?s eyes widened. ?That would be?that would be wonderful,? she replied. ?I?ve extended my stay until Tuesday morning, if that helps.?

?Perfect. I?ll fly down there and meet with you tomorrow evening. If things work out between us, we can head over to the Badgers? offices and take a look over your contract on Monday. Sound good to you??

?It sounds great!?

?Alright then. See you tomorrow afternoon. We?ll have lunch.?

?See you tomorrow, Ms. Locke. And thank you.?

?It?s Haley, and don?t thank me until you?ve seen what I have to offer. Night.?

Hodge hung up the phone, beaming. ?I go from no agent to the best in the business. Whatever angel I?ve got sitting on my shoulder, thanks.?

?Delta flight 274 to Boston now boarding at gate 24. All ticketed passengers should proceed to gate 24 for boarding.?

Hodge stood and slung her carryon over her shoulder, pulling her ticket out from the zippered pouch as she did so. Handing the ticket to the gate agent, she passed through into the bright tunnel of the jetway, then touched, by force of habit, the plane?s outer shell for luck before stepping inside.

A smiling steward led her into the first class cabin, and she sat down, luxuriating in the wide, impossibly comfortable leather seat. Her original return ticket hadn?t been in first class. It was just one of the many perks the human hurricane known as Haley Locke had negotiated for her.

Truth be known, Hodge was still in a bit of a daze. A daze that had started the moment the curly haired brunette blew into her hotel room, shook her hand, and pitched her spiel. Hodge couldn?t have stopped her if she tried, and by the time Haley had paused for her first breath since entering the hotel room, Hodge discovered she didn?t want to try at all.

There was good, and there was great. Haley Locke surpassed both of those by a long country mile. She was the kind of person who made you feel good; about yourself, and about her. She would have made a great preacher, or a horrible one?the type who would lead you to a bridge and tell you to jump, and you would, willingly, a smile on your face as you plunged to your death.

Lunch had turned into dinner, dinner had turned into drinks, and before Hodge quite knew what was happening, she found herself standing in front of Mac, Haley at her side. Her only consolation was that Mac looked as stunned as she knew she did. The expression on his face as he willingly handed over perk after perk would have been laughable if Hodge hadn?t been feeling exactly the same.

She came away with more than she?d ever thought possible, along with a very nice signing bonus tucked comfortably in her wallet. Part of that bonus was going to send her parents on the trip of their dreams. They would fight it, she knew, but stubbornness was an inherited trait, and she had inherited it in spades.

As the plane taxied to the runway and began to pick up speed, she stared at the ground rushing beneath her. It was the perfect axiom for her life.

Dylan used the hem of her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. The sun shone brightly down on the court, causing heat to rise up from the clay in wavy, visible lines. Siegfried lay on his belly in the cool grass, head on his paws, eyes darting from the ball lying on center court to Dylan, whining.

?Hush,? Dylan said fondly as she walked over to the stone bench and lifted a warming bottle of spring water to her lips. Her cell phone rang just as she began to drink. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she traded bottle for phone and held it up to her ear. ?Lambert.?

?We?re even.?

Dylan chuckled.

?I?m serious, Dylan. Everything I ever owed you is now officially paid back. Understand??

Dylan laughed louder as she reached out for the water bottle and took a healthy sip.

?Hello??

?I?m here, Mac.?

?Yes, well, just remember?.?

?We?re even. I?ll remember.?

?Hmmph.?

?Oh come on, Mac! You put the job of finding an agent in my hands. Who?d you think I was gonna pick, huh??

?Certainly not the Bride of Satan!!?

?Oh, please. She?s not that bad.?

?Oh yeah? I?m lucky she didn?t take the shirt off my back while she was at it!?

Dylan grinned. ?She doesn?t swing that way, Mac. Not even for a stud such as yourself.?

?Ha. Ha. That woman should be outlawed.?

?Is the contract signed??

?Well, yes, but?.?

?Then everything worked out the way it was supposed to.?

?For you, maybe. When Johnson gets wind of this, I?ll be lucky to get a job digging ditches.?

?Who says he has to get wind of anything? As far as I can tell, the last time he looked at a player?s contract, Moses had just brought the tablets down from the mount.?

?Yeah, well if your mouthy little friend has anything to say about it?.?

?Come on, Mac, you know better than that. Haley might be hell on wheels, but she?s not a braggart. She?s not gonna tell anyone anything about that contract. And I don?t think Catherine will either.?

?I agree with you there. She was about as flummoxed by Ms. Hot Shot New York Lawyer as I was.?

?Well there ya go then. Maybe next time, you?ll stick to doing your own job instead of foisting it off on me, hmm??

?Hmmmph.?

Dylan laughed. ?Bye, Mac. I?ll see you in the office tomorrow.?

Ending the call, she tossed the phone back on the bench and finished off her water. Siegfried, still as a statue, whined again. Dylan rolled her eyes.

?Oh, alright. Fetch!?

With a happy bark, Siegfried jumped to his feet and ran after the ball. His huge mouth opened wide, and Dylan watched as sharp teeth, made to tear and rend, dimpled the ball?s tough skin.

?Pop it and you?re a throw rug.?

Siegfried whined, looking at her with sad eyes. After a moment, he pushed the ball toward her, barking.

Dylan stuck a foot out and hefted the ball high into the air. Siegfried barked again and leapt up, using his nose to bat the ball back to her. Taking the pass, Dylan put up a sweet, easy shot from the top of the key, smirking as it went through without touching the rim. ?Nothin? but net.?

Siegfried scrabbled after the ball, leaving claw scrapes in the brick colored clay. A fast learner, he nosed the ball back to her, then leapt in the air, his teeth snapping as she kicked it to him. The ball went off in an errant direction, but Dylan roped it in easily and, spinning, got off a shot whose arc was perfection itself. The ball swished through the net, and Siegfried happily tore after it.

They played like that for some minutes until the dog?s tongue lolled out and his muscled sides heaved with the strength of his panting. Still, he whined and shot her a pathetic look as she tucked the ball under her arm and gathered up her things from the bench.

?That?s enough for now, buddy. Maybe later after it?s dark, alright??

A happy bark was her answer, and, laughing, she walked up the short, partially wooded hill of her grounds and entered the house through the back door. She chuckled again as Siegfried rushed past her, darted into the laundry room and was soon enthusiastically drinking from the toilet.

?Men.?

Cat put the last box in the bed of her truck, a sturdy old Chevy S-10 that she?d owned since High School. Turning, she found everyone standing on the porch staring at her with wide, sad eyes. She smiled and shook her head as she jogged back over.

?I?m not leaving forever guys, come on don?t look at me like that.?

Her brothers all tried to give varying degrees of smiles. They weren?t as sincere as they could have been. ?Now come on, I promise as soon as rookie camp is over and I have some free time I?ll either come back or bring you boys up. So just be good, okay??

They nodded and then gathered around her for a hug, which she was lost in, completely covered by their warm, familiar and beloved bodies. When her brothers backed off her dad stepped forward.

?I?m so proud of you Cat. You?ve worked hard to get here. You deserve it.?

?I couldn?t have gotten here without you. I couldn?t have gotten here without my family. I love you.?

?Love you too sweetheart.? He hugged her, holding her close and kissed the top of her head. ?You be good.?

?I will Dad.?

Once her father released her, Cat turned to see her mother standing alone on the porch, her eyes brimming with tears. She walked slowly over and stepped up onto the porch, grasping her mother?s hands and holding them gently. ?Now Mom, don?t do that because if you do I will.?

?Can?t help it Cat.? She wrapped her arms around her daughter. ?My first born, the apple of my eye. I guess I couldn?t keep you from growing up, no matter how much I tried.?

?We tend to do that, Mom.?

?I know.? Sighing, she pulled her daughter?s hands up to her chest. ?I still don?t know if this is the life I would have chosen for you, Catherine. Filled with so much uncertainty.?

?Mom??

?But?I realize that you?ve grown up to be a fine woman, Cat. And any path you choose will be the right one for you. I?ll worry, but that?s what mothers are supposed to do, because no matter how old you get, you?ll always be my baby, and I love you.?

?I love you too.?

?Now you get down there and show those Badgers how things are done.?

Cat chuckled and wiped her eyes. ?I?ll do my best.?

?And you better tell that Dylan Lambert to watch after you. She may be taller than this house, young woman, but my wooden spoon is still faster than lightning and will tan her behind for her if she doesn?t.?

Cat broke into laughter at the mental image and pulled her mother close, hugging her tightly. ?I love you, Mom.?

?I love you too. Now go, before I lock you in your room and never let you out.?

Cat backed off and walked backward to her truck, waving the entire way. She got in and started the truck and backed out of the driveway. As she pulled out and drove down the road, she looked in her rearview mirror to see her brothers had run into the road, yelling and waving. She gave the horn a blast and drove toward her future.

DRIVEN

Hodge looked at the key in her hand and at the door in front of her, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. Unlocking the door to her new apartment, she stuck her head inside as if she was expecting someone to be home. Too many years of living with family, friends and roommates had conditioned her to be cautious.

Once inside she looked at the bare dwelling. By her standards it was huge. She had gone for a loft apartment because the open feeling appealed to her; she had spent way too much time in dorm rooms and she liked the idea of spreading out. The down stairs was basically one large room with a living room and kitchen that could be set up any way she desired. The floor to ceiling windows on one wall made it bright and seem even larger.

There was a set of iron steps in the center of the room that curved up to the open second floor, where her bedroom and bathroom were. Of course right now the place was empty. Cat looked over at the small pile of her things in one corner. It consisted of five medium moving boxes, three suitcases and two duffle bags.

“Pathetic Hodge, just pathetic. You need stuff.” She spun around in the center of the floor. “Lots of stuff.”

Like the child she wasn?t that far removed from being, Hodge took off her shoes, leaving her in her socks, and took off running, skidding and sliding around on the freshly waxed hardwood floors.

Sliding into the kitchen, she grabbed hold of the counter to stop before she slid into the opposite wall. She opened the door to the fridge, opened the oven door, realizing that she couldn?t use it if she tried. Cooking was not her thing. Then she noticed the dishwasher and the microwave.

“This is good. Nuking I can do.” Catherine Hodges didn?t have a clue that she was standing in a state of the art chef?s kitchen and it was possible than unless she got involved with a state of the art chef, she never would.

Climbing the steps to the second level she looked at the space that would eventually become her bedroom. Again, it was an open space with an iron rail to keep her from falling into the open floor below. One wall was outfitted with monstrous closets, more closets that Cat would ever require. When it came to clothes, she always looked great, but she was a minimalist.

The bathroom was well appointed and she nearly drooled when she saw the Jacuzzi tub in the center of the room. “Oh that?s going to be nice after a game.”

Taking a deep breath she went back downstairs and simply laid in the center of the floor, giggling like a kid who had just been given the best Christmas present ever.

Three days later, Cat pulled opened the door to find a delivery guy leaning on a box and chomping on a piece of gum.

“Delivery for Catherine Hodges.”

“That?s me.”

“Got yer furniture, lady.”

“Great! I was getting a little tired of my sleeping bag. Great for camping, but on wood floors?.” Putting her hands on her hips, she arched her back, groaning as the abused muscles along her spine forked out their protest. “You guys were supposed to be here yesterday.”

“We got caught in traffic,” the man replied drolly. “We tried to call but ya? ain?t got no phone.”

“Yeah, well the phone company didn?t show up either.”

“Ever here of a cell phone?”

Hodge leveled a look at him, green eyes darkening a shade. “Just bring the furniture in, huh?”

The guy keyed the microphone on his lapel. “This is the place, bring the rest of it up.” He tipped the handcart back and brought the boxes into the apartment. “Where do ya want these?”

“Pick an spot, any spot.”

After about thirty-five minutes the apartment was furnished. Now all Cat had to do was move the stuff were she wanted it. She had managed to convince the guys to carry the bedroom furniture upstairs. They looked like she had asked them to fly to the moon and back, but they did it.

Now her once empty apartment was filled with nice, new furniture. Her signing bonus had been a rather tidy sum, and while she was always careful with her money, she couldn?t resist the urge to splurge, just this once. The furniture she?d purchased was top of the line. Beautiful to look at, it would last her for a good long time.

As she moved the TV and stand into place against one wall she lovingly patted the 27 inch color set. “One of these days you?ll be a big screen with surround sound.”

She was placing a few of her books on the bookcase when there was another knock on the door. Blowing a frustrated breath she opened the door once again the find the telephone guy.

“Hook up for Hodges.”

“Finally! Come in.”

The guy stepped inside and looked at his clipboard. “Okay it says here one jack in the living room one jack in the bedroom and you?re gonna buy your own phones.”

“Right. Just as soon as all the people who are suppose to hook shit up arrive so I don?t have to stay here trapped like a rat all damn day.”

“?Kay.” He answered, obviously oblivious to her mini rant. “Where to you want it?”

She pointed to that wall by the counter that separated the kitchen and the living room. “Right there.”

She went back to unpacking and moving furniture while the telephone guy did his thing.

“You aren?t by chance the Hodges that was drafted by the Badgers are ya?”

“Yeah I am. You a fan?”

“Nah, but my sister loves that shit. Her and her girlfriend have season tickets.”

“Lovely.” Hodge mumbled while shoving the couch into place.

“S?ppose I could get an autograph?” he asked when he was through, handing her an invoice for her signature.

Looking up into the man?s eyes, she noticed that he was completely serious. It was a surreal moment. “Um?sure?I guess.”

“Cool,” the man remarked, handing her a business card with the name of the furniture store on it as soon as she returned the signed invoice to him. “My sister?s gonna shit herself blind when she sees this.”

Wrinkling her nose at the unappetizing sentiment, Hodge hurriedly signed the card and pushed it across to the grinning man. “There ya go.”

“Right on!” He looked hurriedly around the apartment, then back to Hodge. “Say, you don?t happen to have anything with that coach of yours? autograph on it, do ya? Man, talk about stacked!”

The growling sound coming from his throat caused Hodge?s nose to wrinkle again. “Uh..no. Sorry.”

“Damn,” the man sighed. “Oh well, if ya ever do, let me know, will ya? Name?s on the invoice.”

Hodge plastered a bright, if totally false, smile on her face. “I?ll do that,” she said, taking his arm and leading him to the door.

An hour later, the cable guy, who actually turned out to be a very nice looking woman, showed up. Hodge grinned happily as she lead the woman into the living room.

“You know, you?re the only on who?s been on time,” she commented, eyeing the attractive young woman.

“Only one?”

“Sorry, utilities. Everyone else has been a day late.”

“Figures.” She stripped a wire and then crimped and end into place. “We have a policy that if we?re not here when we say, your first month?s service is free. Boss hates giving away free things.”

Cat chuckled and leaned on the kitchen side of the bar, looking at the nice view the installer presented her as she bent over to make the connection. “I?ll bet.”

The installer smiled to herself, well aware she was being watched. She fiddled with the connection a little longer than she needed to, then slowly straightened and turned, bestowing her very attractive customer with a rakish grin. Walking over, she gave Hodge the new remote and a business card. “You should be all set. If you ever need?anything?call the number on this card and I?ll be happy to help you out.”

“I?m sure you will,” Hodge replied, treating the woman to a flirtatious grin and deliberately brushing her fingers against those which held the business card.

The cable installer flushed a brilliant red and Hodge pulled back, a bit chagrinned to have flustered the other woman. Clearing her throat, she gave a more genuine, friendly smile. “Thank you,” she said warmly. “I really appreciate your assistance.”

“N-no problem,” the installer all but squeaked. She edged toward the door. “I?ve?uh?gotta run. Another appointment, don?t wanna be late.”

“Boss hates giving away free stuff. I remember.”

“Yeah. Well..um?see you around.”

“See you,” Hodge replied, grinning as the slightly older woman slipped quickly out of the apartment.

The door closed, and Hodge put her hands on her hips, laughing. “I feel like I just woke up in the Twilight Zone.”

Dressed in her practice jersey and a pair of long black shorts, her duffle bag over her shoulder, Hodge walked into the Horace T. Johnson Arena. The venue was only three years old, and sparkled with newness. Showing Johnson?s ambition, it had seats for forty thousand, even though the average home attendance was usually five to ten thousand fewer per game. Mirrored plexiglass fronted several exclusive?and expensive?skyboxes put there for the enjoyment of the rich and famous.

The court itself was varnished to a high, glossy shine. The butter colored wood was pleasing to the eye, though it contrasted less than wonderfully with the giant purple and black badger logo in the direct center.

The key, end and sidelines were a deep black stripe, while the three point arc was a deep purple. The nets were stiff and brilliant in their virgin whiteness, hung around deep red rims attached to clear plexiglass backboards.

The soles of Hodge?s basketball shoes squeaked loudly in the almost oppressive silence, and she spared a moment to wipe off the excess moisture with her hands before moving toward the brightly lit locker room.

“Oh, I can see I?m gonna be hating this color scheme in about a week,” she remarked softly as she entered the huge purple and black locker room. “God, this looks like a bad LSD trip!”

The floor was black tile, the ceiling purple cork. The lockers stood at silent attention, like soldiers dressed, alternately, in black and purple uniforms, ready for war. Near the far corner, Hodge spied her locker, painted a gleaming black. Her name was at eye level, printed carefully on a blinding white strip of con-tac paper with her jersey number beneath it. Setting her duffle on the bench, she opened the good-sized locker and saw the rest of her uniforms waiting complacently.

“Not bad,” she murmured, running her fingers across the soft fabric and imagining the day?not so far away now?when she?d have the pleasure of donning one for real. For just a moment, the noise of an excited crowd floated into her mind, interspersed with the sounds of basketballs being bounced on varnished courts and slipping through stiffened nets. A beautiful smile curved her lips?the smile of a child on Christmas morning.

Her daydream was interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat, and when she turned, she saw a tall woman, perhaps two or three years older than her, looking at her with a shy smile. “Hello,” the woman said in heavily accented, though easily understood, English.

“Hello,” Cat replied, smiling.

The woman took a step forward, long fingers fumbling with the straps to her duffel. “You are? Ecaterina Hodges, yes?”

Cat?s smile broadened. “Yes, I am.”

The woman looked relieved. “I thought so. I?saw you on television. You are very good.”

“Thank you.”

There was a moment of silence before the woman?s head ducked, and she blushed. “I am sorry. My manners?.” One hand came away from the duffel and extended as the woman approached. “I am Anya Seletskaya. From Belarus. I am here to try out for a place on the Badgers.”

Hodge immediately gripped the young woman?s hand, giving it a firm shake. “It?s very good to meet you, Anya.”

“And is good to meet you as well.” Anya looked around, as if for the first time. Her lips pinched inward as her eyes widened. “This is?.”

“Dead ugly,” Cat finished for her, grinning.

Anya looked at her, surprised, then laughed. “I?ve seen uglier,” she commented, “but never on purpose!”

Noises from behind them stirred the two women into action, and they packed their gear in their lockers, then turned and eased their way through the small crowd of chattering young woman entering the locker room, arms spilling with gear.

A moment later, they were both on the court and, with the ease of long habit, Hodge moved to one sideline and began her stretching routine, smiling as Anya joined her. Her body submitted to the gentle stretching without complaint, despite the enforced break in her usual routine. She?d taken Dylan?s words to heart, however, and no matter the details of her day, managed to put in at least three miles worth of running each morning. She knew the extra effort would be worth the annoyance endured. She?d never been that fond of distance running.

As she stretched, her eyes idly captured her teammates as they streamed onto the court, laughing and jesting with one another without a seeming care in the world. Part of her envied them their lightheartedness. Her breakfast of dry toast and juice was sitting leaden in her belly as skitters of nervous anticipation danced over her slowly warming muscles.

The laughter and talk that echoed through the massive arena slowly faded away as two women, both in their early thirties and dressed identically in black nylon sweats and golf shirts, entered the venue, whistles around their necks and basketballs under their arms. Hodge recognized the first woman easily, having seen her on television any number of times over the years.

Diana Caulley was the first assistant coach of the Birmingham Badgers. Standing five feet, eleven inches tall, she was fit and well formed, with sandy hair that curled around her collar and deep set, intelligent gray eyes that missed very little. A shoulder injury had ended a promising career in her rookie year, but she?d parlayed her love of basketball and a keen intelligence into a coaching job and never looked back.

The woman standing beside her was one that Hodge didn?t recognize, but to judge by the woman?s body-builder?s stature and the chiseled, no nonsense expression on her face, she had a feeling that a less than pleasant acquaintance would be drawn up in the not-too-distant future.

So thinking, she slowly rose from her place on the varnished court and moved to join her fellows in a rough semi-circle before the two women, waiting for the fun to begin.

Diana?s eyes narrowed as she took in the nine women standing before her. She recognized them all, of course, having been instrumental in bringing almost half into the sites of one Dylan Lambert and setting up this opportunity for them to show what they could do. They were veterans, cut from other teams, or in the case of Anya Seletskaya, lured away from less than lucrative foreign contracts and into the bright lights of a new opportunity.

The rest were draft picks, fresh from college and chosen by Dylan?s own hand. Of the nine, only four would emerge to fill the vacant slots on an already established team. It was Diana?s job to help cull the wheat from the chaff and to put forward only those worthy of their contracts. It was duty she considered almost a sacred rite, and she was very, very good at her job.

Each pair of eyes met hers, then darted away, message received.

Satisfied, Diana smiled. “Welcome to the Badgers.”

There was a soft murmur as the women returned her greeting.

“I?m Diana Caulley, first assistant coach, and this,” she said, indicating the 5?9″ mass of muscle to her left, “is TJ Barnes, strength and conditioning coach. For the next three weeks, we are all going to get to know one another very well indeed.” Her smile broadened, thin lips curling into more than the hint of a smirk. “And in order for us to do that with as much ease as possible, here are a few, non-negotiable, ground-rules.”

One hand uncurled from her hip, long fingers splaying to tick off the pertinent points. “First?this is called ?rookie camp? for a reason. I don?t care if you?ve been playing in the league for years or if the ink?s still wet on your sheepskin. You?re all rookies here, and you?ll be treated that way until I say differently. Is that understood?”

More quiet murmuring.

“Good. It?s best to get that out of the way first. There aren?t any prima donnas here. First round draft pick,” and this was said with a long, hard, significant look in Hodge?s direction, “or walk on, everyone is at the bottom rung of the ladder until they prove otherwise. Leave your egos at the door, ladies.”

Good God, Hodge thought, this woman is a walking clich�.

Gray eyes met hers again and Hodge resisted the urge to swallow hard. She knew her sentiment, at least in part, had been read and the battle lines drawn.

Great. Just what I need. The drill sergeant from Hell on my ass my first day. What is it with me and lousy first impressions anyway?

The assistant coach continued on. “From Monday through Saturday, seven am until seven pm, you all belong to me. You will eat, breathe and sleep Badgers? basketball. When you?re not here, you?ll be home, studying the playbook until every single punctuation mark is stored in your brains. You will not drink, smoke, party or otherwise get yourselves into trouble or you?re out the door, contract or no. Am I making myself clear?”

Nods all around.

“Alright then. Let?s see what you ladies are made of.” The smirk fully bloomed as Diana turned and gestured to the large arena. “Four times around, if you please, and make sure you hit every step.” A sharp blast of her whistle punctuated Caulley?s order, and the women were off and running into the stands.

Hodge might not have cared for running, but she did it well, easily pacing herself as she hit the first set of stairs and started upward. Her father had long been a proponent of “slow and steady wins the race”, and she?d never seen the need to separate herself from his apt philosophy.

Slipping into an easy rhythm, she allowed her body to carry her along mindlessly as she concentrated on the rest of the group. Two young women, tall, thin, and looking enough alike to be twins, were far ahead of the rest, playing rabbit. They?d tire soon enough, Hodge predicted, confident in her own abilities.

The rest of the small group strung along in a line, one behind the other, each slipping into her own favored stride. Anya was close behind Hodge, very light on her feet despite her stocky size.

By the end of the second lap, the rabbits were slowing and, setting her jaw, Hodge began to reel them in like fish on the line.

She led them out of the stands and onto the court, her lungs and legs burning in equal measure. On the whole, however, she was satisfied with her performance.

Caulley, on the other hand, looked as if she?d bitten into a particularly sour lemon as she stared down at the stopwatch clutched tightly in one hand.

“Abysmal, ladies,” she stated flatly, walking over to the gasping group. “Just abysmal.” Several blank faces staring back at her caused the pinched look to deepen. “That means ?bad?, Coles.”

Coles, a rangy forward who?d been drafted in the third round, flushed and looked away.

Caulley shook her head, and turned to her conditioning coach, speaking in a loud stage whisper. “Remind me to steer my nieces away from UC Berkley.”

Coles? flush deepened, now tinged with anger as well as embarrassment.

Caulley smirked. “Don?t sweat it, pumpkin. I?m sure those underwater basket weaving classes taxed you to your limit, hmm?”

Coles? mouth opened, then closed, and her throat worked as she swallowed her words.

Caulley smiled. “So, you have some brains up there after all. Good.” She gave each member of the group a pointed look, stopwatch dangling loosely by its strap. “I should make you run the arena again until you take at least twenty seconds off this crappy time, but I?m in a good mood today.”

Nine sets of shoulders sagged in relief.

“So we?ll do windsprints instead.”

Nine groans echoed through the empty building.

Caulley smirked again. “Two lines, ladies. Get ready to go on my whistle. Ready? Go.”

Hodge groaned with pleasure as she slid down in the tub until her chin touched the swirling water. Though she would have rather had her eyes plucked out with rusty spoons than admit it aloud, her body ached from the day?s labors. Caulley and her partner-of-few-words were true taskmasters, though she had to admit they were very good at their jobs. In one day of practice, she?d come close to learning more than during the four years she?d spend at UCONN.

“You?re not in Kansas anymore, Cat,” she muttered to herself as one slightly wet hand reached out to grab the thick playbook resting on the tiled floor.

She?d already leafed through the book half a dozen times, looking at the plays and their attendant diagrams with interest. What she saw both surprised and pleased her.

“Dylan drew up these plays, you dolt,” she chastised herself. “That alone should tell you they?d be anything but run-of-the-mill.”

With a bit of chagrin, she admitted to herself that, given the relative youth of the team, and the attendant lack of wide ranging experience, she had expected an offense heavy with plays that emphasized a ball-control, clock-eating, half-court scheme.

Low scoring, perhaps, but usually effective against bigger and more experienced teams.

Instead, she found herself looking at plays that emphasized what was sometimes called a “run and gun” offense; an offense which was very much like what many, if not most, professional men?s teams used?heavy in transition, all motion, utilizing the full court instead of just half of it.

Discovering this, she came to realize exactly why it was that she, of all players in the draft, had been chosen to lead this team.

A point guard in a run and gun offense didn?t have to be the best athlete on the court, just the smartest and the most unselfish. And Catherine Hodges had legitimate claim to both of those attributes.

In spades.

She?d led just such an offense for four years running, and while she was never the points leader, she?d led the conference in assists for three of those four years. She thought well on her feet, was quick, and an expert passer who could read defenses as well as anyone in the conference. Her three point and foul shooting abilities didn?t hurt either.

With a happy sigh, she closed the book, laid it back down on the floor, and sunk deep in the hottub, allowing the jets of water to work their magic on her aching muscles.

The phone rang for the fourth time and Cat?s face dropped. “Come on, come on,” she softly pled, needing to hear the sound of her mother?s voice. It wasn?t an urge that hit her often, but when it did, obstacles be damned.

“Hodge residence.” The voice of her youngest brother croaked out against her ear.

“Hey butthead.” She plopped down in the overstuffed armchair and proceeded to get comfortable.

“Hey Beavis. Whatcha doing?”

“Calling to see how ya?ll are surviving without me?”

“Eh, you know, the dork level in the house went down ten points when you left.” He giggled, having ?gotten off a good one? as the household was fond of saying. Cat could tell one of her other brothers had used the line previously and he willingly repeated it, passing it off as his own.

“Love you to brat. Mom home?”

“Of course. She baking pies for the PTA bake sale Friday.”

“Peach or apple?”

“Yup.”

Hodge?s stomach growled at the mention of her mother?s pies. “Has she got time to talk to me?”

“I dunno let me ask her.”

Cat pulled the phone from her ear when he let loose a blood-curdling yell into the speaker. Wincing, she scowled at the phone, silently vowing to Indian rope burn her brother to within an inch of his life the next time she saw him.

“Catherine? Honey are you all right?”

Putting the phone back to her ear, Cat swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and smiled as she answered quietly. “Hi Mom.”

“Honey what?s wrong?”

“Nothing?s wrong Mom. I just wanted to call and see how you guys were doing.”

“Well, we do miss you a lot. Your father has done nothing but grumble about the boys beating him at basketball ever since you left.”

Cat grinned and settled into the chair, throwing a blanket over her legs. “I?m sure he?s fine. He always grumbles.”

“This is true. How are things going for you?”

The sound of her mother piddling around the kitchen brought a smile to Cat?s face. It was the sound of home that she found herself missing very much. “Okay. I mean great, but they?re working my butt off and I came home from practice the other night feeling like I was going to die. Coach is fantastic, but damn she doesn?t let up for even one minute. One of the girls puked.”