Driven

“Catherine! I?m fixing pies here, if you don?t mind.”

“Sorry.” Hodge held the phone closer, trying to get as close to her mom as possible. “I miss you guys.”

“And we miss you too. You know you can always come home honey. We won?t think any less of you for it.”

“I know, but I won?t. I?m doing something important here and I intend to stick with it. It?s just hard being away from home right now. It feels permanent, ya know?”

“It?s the first time you?ve ever been away from home and truly on your own honey. Even in college you came home once a month.”

“I know and this feels different.”

“But this is always your home and you can come back anytime.”

“Thanks. I think that?s what I needed to hear.”

“And Catherine?”

“Yes Mom?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye sweetheart.”

Hodge placed the receiver in the cradle then curled up in the chair, pulling the blanket over her body and staring out the window of her apartment at the lights of the city. “I love you, Mom.”

The sound of the whistle?s sharp blast echoed through the cavernous arena.

“Damnit, Hodges,” Caulley screamed from inches away, “is this a new development or were you just born stupid?!?”

Gritting her teeth, Hodge resisted the urge to heft the ball in her hands and stick it where the sun never dared to shine. Instead, she concentrated on keeping her body relaxed and her thoughts clear. “Sorry coach,” she said finally, once she could be sure her anger wouldn?t come through in her voice.

“Sorry? We?ve been at this now for two hours and all you can say is ?sorry???” Turning in a circle, Caulley addressed the rest of the team, her eyes wide with mock surprise. “Did you hear that, ladies? Catherine Hodges is sorry! Isn?t that special?” Hands on hips, she shook her head. “I hope you?re all in a forgiving mood at three am tomorrow morning when we?re still trying to get through this simple little drill.”

The others shuffled their feet, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

With a noiseless sigh, Hodge dribbled the ball back to the endline and awaited Caulley?s next order.

In truth, it was a simple drill; one that Cat had run through a thousand times in the past. It was a drill that attempted to break a full-court press; something that Cat could normally do in her sleep.

The added wrinkle to this particular drill, however, was that Cat wasn?t allowed to use her natural quickness to avoid the trap block. Instead, she was required to dribble right into it, pull up, and look for an open teammate to pass to, while two hulking behemoths dressed like coaches waved their arms in her face. An additional problem was that the only teammates she could pass to were short guards who were guarded by very tall forwards every step of the way.

It made the situation difficult, to say the least.

The whistle blew, bringing Hodge back into the present, and she dribbled the ball toward the trap block, everything in her resisting the urge to exploit the space between her two defenders that one could have driven an entire herd of elephants through, were one so inclined.

Pulling up as ordered, she attempted to ignore the hands waving in her face. Out of the corner of one eye, she spied a fast moving blur moving to her right. In a move more instinctual than premeditated, she rifled a sharp blast toward the blur, all the while praying it was one of her own teammates.

Still blinded, she could only listen as the sounds of the ball being rapidly dribbled toward her goal reached her ears, followed by a long moment of silence, and then a noise which could only be the ball swishing sweetly through the net.

Then more silence, dragging on until it was broken by the deep velvet voice of one Dylan Lambert. “And that, ladies, is how you break a full court press.”

Applause erupted, and Hodge stepped around her erstwhile defenders in time to catch both the smirk and the wink aimed her way. Helpless to do anything but, she grinned back and mouthed a heartfelt “thank you” to her savior.

One eyebrow raised, and the ball was launched back to her, hitting her hands hard enough to sting. As she gathered it in, her grin broadened and her heart felt lighter than it had in days.

A slap on her back raised Hodge from her pleasant thoughts, and she turned to see Anya standing behind her, grinning like the cat who?d eaten the canary.

“Did you see the look on Caulley?s face when you made that pass? I thought she was about to birth an elephant!”

After checking over her shoulder to be see the woman in question deep in conversation with Dylan, Hodge allowed herself a broad grin and a laugh. “Serves her right.”

“She?s a dragon lady alright,” Anya agreed, chuckling. “So tell me, how did you know Coach Lambert was going to be there to receive that rocket you call a pass?”

“I didn?t. I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye and reacted.” Hodge laughed. “Then I prayed.”

“Somebody up there must like you, then.”

Hodge looked over at Dylan, who was deep in conversation with her assistant coach. Caulley was red-faced, her arms gesticulating wildly over some point Dylan was making. After a moment, Dylan turned and walked off without so much as a backward glance. Hodge felt something in her belly shift. “I sure hope so,” she murmured.

Caulley chose that moment to turn?still red-faced?in Cat?s direction, her eyes piercing and stormy. “Hodge, pack up your gear!” she yelled across the court.

Cat?s heart stopped, then fluttered several times. “Coach?”

“You heard me. Pack up your gear. You?re outta here!”

Hodge clenched her jaw and turned on her heel toward the bench where her towel lay. The scrimmage had stopped and everyone was watching as Hodge wiped her face with the towel before tossing it into the basket with the others. Two points. Fat lotta good that does me now.

“Everybody back to work.” Caulley called to the others. “Go on, or I?ll have you doing windsprints till you?re eighty!”

The rest of the rookies quickly snapped to, though several gave Hodge pitying looks as they did so.

Cat took a deep breath and mentally ordered herself not to cry until she was well away from everyone. She had known it could end at anytime, that nothing in life was permanent. She had just hoped it would have taken a little longer.

Stupid, she whispered to herself as she crossed the court. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should have known what was up three days ago, Cat. You obviously don?t have what they?re looking for.

She didn?t even bother trying to read the look on Caulley?s face as she headed for the locker room, already knowing what she?d find there.

The locker room was empty and cold as she opened her locker and grabbed her duffel. The cursed tears escaped their confinement and rolled silently down her cheeks as she fingered one of the uniform tops waiting so patiently for her to don it.

“Maybe next year, huh?” she whispered, causing more tears to fall.

With one last, long look, she quietly closed the locker, and trailed the tips of her fingers over the plate bearing her name which hung on the outside.

Using those same fingers to wipe away her tears, Cat turned and headed toward the door, only stopping when she pulled it open to find Dylan Lambert standing on the other side, striking and a bit intimidating in a uniform Hodge was sure she herself would never get the opportunity to wear.

Tears sprung up in her eyes again, and she wiped them away with a savage swipe of her hand. “Sorry Coach,” she murmured, not able to meet the clear blue eyes that looked down at her. “I gave it my best shot, but I guess it wasn?t good enough.”

Dylan?s eyes narrowed, then cleared as she put two and two together and immediately came up with four. Ah, Diana, my friend, I love you, but we?re going to have a long talk, you and I. Very soon.

Stepping away from the door, Dylan gestured toward the arena?s exit with a tilt of her head. “Follow me,” she commanded softly.

Hodge followed numbly behind Dylan as the taller woman led them into the sunny warmth of the late afternoon and over to a smaller building several hundred feet away from the main arena. When they stepped inside, Hodge?s ears perked to the sounds of bouncing basketballs, squeaky sneakers, and the cheerful shouts of several women. She looked curiously at Dylan, but the smirk on the Coach?s face gave no clues.

Several steps later, and they were standing on the sidelines of yet another basketball court which was ringed on all sides by simple wooden benches and not much else. Cat?s eyes widened as she came to the realization that she recognized each and every single one of the women currently practicing on the court.

Angela Tippens, the six foot six inch center with the bleach blond hair and androgynous features, had been drafted from Australia two years back. With her ability to jump like a pogo stick coupled with her Australian heritage, she was immediately nicknamed ?Roo?.

Shaniqua Chaney, six feet of cornrows, tattoos, piercings and attitude, had been drafted from Temple the year prior and had the makings of the best shooting guard in the league, taking a great number of cues from her idol, Allen Iverson.

Rosalie King and Marcette LeRoy were two potential-filled forwards from North Carolina, and Nanette Mackey, point guard and Tamara Stern, center/forward were two crafty veterans who?d played for several teams during their long tenure with the WBA.

Realizing she was looking at the starting lineup of the Birmingham Badgers, Hodge stared up at her Coach, her face one large question mark.

Dylan?s smirk became more pronounced. “Think you?re ready to swim in the deep end of the pool, Catherine?”

Hodge blinked once, then cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”

Dylan took a significant glance at the court, then back to her newest star in the making. Her eyebrow rose.

Hodge flushed, then paled as the realization stole over her. “You?you mean I?m not fired?”

Dylan snorted. “Hardly.”

“But I thought?.”

“I know,” Dylan replied, her eyes warming. “And I?m going to talk to dear Diana about that this evening before she leaves for home. I pay her to be a bitch, but sometimes she goes a bit too far.”

“So, does this mean??”

“Yes it does.” Dylan grinned. “Welcome to the Badgers, Starting Point Guard Catherine Hodges.”

Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Hodge opened her arms and closed the small distance between them, clasping Dylan in a fervent, effusive hug. “Thank you so much!” Hodge?s voice was muffled against the fabric of Dylan?s jersey.

Dylan stiffened, stunned at the very unexpected action, then slowly returned the hug, albeit a bit awkwardly. “You?re very welcome.”

The moment was interrupted by laughter and catcalls. Immediately mortified, Hodge pulled away, only now fully aware of her actions. Her face flushed a color that would have done an overripe tomato proud. “Oh my god,” she moaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I did it again, didn?t I.”

Dylan?s answering laughter was music to her burning ears.

“Good afternoon and welcome to the Southern Sports Network ,television home of the Birmingham Badgers. I?m Todd Black and this is my co-host, the lovely Melinda Morton. We?re coming to you live tonight from inside the beautiful Horace Johnson Arena where the Badgers are set to open their season against last year?s WBA Champions, the New York Thunder. The house is pretty packed, Melinda.”

“You?re right about that, Todd. A nice sized crowd has shown up tonight to see if Coach Dylan Lambert?s offseason wrangling has paid off.”

“That?s true, Melinda. She?s made a lot of changes this year, including the shocker of the decade, her choice for first pick of the draft, the diminutive Catherine Hodges.”

“Well, Ms. Hodges may be small, but she has heart, and she knows her way around a basketball court, leading her college team, the UCONN Huskies to an NCAA championship. It?ll be interesting to see how she fits into the new offensive scheme sources say Coach Lambert has spent the entire offseason developing and perfecting.”

“Sounds interesting, Melinda. Anything else your sources have to tell you?”

“Not really, Todd. Just that this is an entirely new Badgers team, and that we should look forward to seeing some things we haven?t before from them.”

“I?m sure we?ll all be keeping our eyes and ears open, then. And now, let?s get courtside and listen to the team introductions.”

Hodge stood on the sideline, shifting back and forth on her feet and shaking her hands.

“You doin? alright, Shortchange?”

Rolling her eyes at her new nickname, Hodge turned toward Shaniqua Chaney, who was standing beside her. “My stomach is a cave and the bats are rebelling.”

Chaney laughed, making the black and purple beads at the ends of her cornrows click together. Hodge found the sound oddly comforting. “Don?t sweat it, Shortchange. Those bats?ll always be there. You just gotta use em in your favor.” A careless hand swept forward to the entire arena. “Look at all them people up there. All of em?s waitin to see you fly or fall. You just tell yourself them bats are gonna help you fly.”

Hodge couldn?t help laughing at the analogy, and the action caused her stomach to settle somewhat. “Thanks, Chane.”

“Hey, no problem, girl. Let?s do ?em.”

The cheering crowd became silent as the public address announcer?s voice came over the speakers. Hodge?s stomach began to churn again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Horace Johnson Arena, the home of your Birmingham Badgers!”

Jumping to its feet, the crowd went wild, cheering and throwing purple and black streamers which littered the court.

“And here are your starters. A five foot six inch point guard from the University of Connecticut, number 33, Catherine Hodges!”

Hodge ran onto center court in a daze, barely hearing the cheering of the crowd. Though it was something she?d done more times than she could count during the past eight years of her life, and often in front of crowds much larger than this one, something about this night was different. It seemed almost magical somehow, dreamlike in a way that even the NCAA Championship hadn?t felt.

Before she knew it, she was surrounded by her teammates and was being escorted to the sidelines, watching as Dylan, dressed in a black suit with a blinding white shirt beneath, shook the hand of the opposing coach.

Cat blinked, then shook herself out of her daze when she realized that Dylan had joined the group and was imparting some last minute instructions.

“Alright guys,” Dylan said, looking each player directly in the eyes, “play aggressive, play smart. Back each other up, and remember what we?ve been practicing.” Looking around the circle, Dylan finally smiled as she saw the sea of determined heads nodding. “Alright. Let?s do it.”

The butterflies came back with a vengeance as Hodge returned to center court and waited for the game to begin. The running sweat of her palms dampened the fabric of her jersey as she wiped her hands in a nervous gesture.

The referee?s whistle blew, and the game was on.

Roo tipped the jump into Chaney?s hands. Chaney passed the ball to Hodge, who dribbled past half court and waited for the play to set up around her. The defense was easily read as man-to-man, and faced off against her was Tarma McKinney, the best point guard in the league.

Chaney broke free of her coverage and Hodge rifled a pass, which was immediately intercepted by McKinney, who took off down the court like a rocket and scored the game?s first two points with an easy, uncontested lay-up.

Cursing herself, Hodge stepped beyond the endline and took the ball, passing it to Chaney, then receiving it back and dribbling quickly past center court. A lane to the basket opened like Moses parting the Red Sea, and she went for it, managing to dribble into the paint before a dark hand shot through and relieved her of the ball neatly as you please.

Gritting her teeth, Hodge turned and ran after the thief, but McKinney?s speed was greater and again she was forced to watch as the veteran point guard scored an easy lay-up to make the score 4-0.

McKinney placed the ball on the endline, then turned, brushing Hodge?s shoulder with her own as she ran by. “Go back to the sandbox, scrub. You got no game.”

“Don?t listen to her, Shortchange,” Chaney advised as she handed the ball to Cat. “Bullshit?s the only thing that comes outta that mouth.”

“I?ll try, Chane,” Hodge sighed as she started back upcourt.

“You don?t try, girl. You do. This shit ain?t no different from what you?ve been through already. Suck it up and play.”

Standing on the sideline, Dylan resisted the urge to turn away as the approach of Diana Caulley registered in the periphery of her vision. “Save it,” she snapped when Caulley got within range.

“That?s not why you pay me, Dylan,” Caulley interjected softly. “You need to bench her. Now, before she becomes even more of a liability.”

“I told you to save it,” Dylan replied, turning and pinning her assistant coach to the floor with her glare. “She just needs a little time to get settled.”

“How much time are you gonna give her, Dylan? Are you gonna wait until we?re so damn deep in a hole that we?ll never get out?”

“Enough,” Dylan snapped, and turned away, putting an end to the conversation. She kept her gaze focused on Hodge as the young woman drove up and down the court, always in constant motion. To Dylan?s experienced eye, Cat had settled somewhat, but Dylan frowned as she realized the reason behind it.

As the point guard, Hodge chose the plays the team would use, and Dylan could tell that the young woman was choosing plays that kept her as far away from the action as possible.

She doesn?t trust herself, Dylan thought, gritting her teeth. Shit.

Her jaw clenched harder as she watched Hodge try a courageous block which, unfortunately, wound up in a shooting foul. That was followed up almost immediately by a second foul as Hodge pushed off on McKinney in order to get herself free to receive the inbounds pass from Chaney.

Two fouls in two minutes.

Her reluctant decision made, Dylan called out over her shoulder without ever taking her eyes from the action on the court. “Mackey!”

“Yes, Coach?”

“You?re in for Hodge.”

“Ok, Coach.”

Dylan watched as Hodge jogged from the court, sat on the bench, and covered her bowed face with a towel. She sighed softly and allowed the young woman to stew for a moment as she made sure Mackey was able to pick up the slack.

Assured, Dylan walked back down the sideline and squatted down in front of Hodge, laying a hand atop the point guard?s knee. “Hey.”

Hodge looked up, an expression of abject misery darkening her eyes. “Hey, Coach.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“You alright?”

Hodge laughed. It wasn?t a pleasant sound. “I choked.”

“Not yet, you haven?t,” Dylan countered.

“Sure I have.” She laughed again, a hopeless sound. “First round draft pick, next big star?.”

Dylan?s eyes softened. “You can?t be a star unless you give yourself the chance to shine.” She squeezed the knee under her hand. “You can do this, Catherine. I know you can. You know that too.”

“How?”

The naked plea went straight to Dylan?s heart. Turning, she gestured to the action on the court. “Look at them, Catherine. Do you see anything going on there that you haven?t done a thousand times before?”

Hodge looked. After a long moment, she shook her head. “No.”

Dylan smiled. “Exactly. You just need to take the confidence we both know you have in yourself and let it out. Just like every other time you?ve stepped on the basketball court.”

“But this is different.”

“Not really. It isn?t, Catherine. The only thing you?re lacking is professional experience, but that?ll come with every play, and every game. You have the skills. You have the heart. Now let?s see you use ?em, alright?”

Not breaking Dylan?s gaze, Hodge took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She felt something within herself center and become calm. A smile came up from somewhere and she let it bloom on her face. “Okay.”

Dylan allowed her own smile to broaden, and she slowly rose to her feet. “Go back in for Mackay. And when you do, I want you to use 43 Block 27.”

Hodge?s eyes widened. “Coach?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay, Coach.”

The whistle blew, and Hodge ran back onto the court, wiping her hands on her jersey. Chaney greeted her with a grin and a slap on the behind. “Get ?em, Shortchange.”

Hodge nodded, then took her place behind the endline. With a sure pass, she rifled the ball to Chaney, who tossed it back to her on the run. Side by side they made it past half court. McKinney came in for a lazy steal, but Hodge drew the ball between her legs in a scissors dribble and easily evaded the other woman?s attempt.

She passed the ball to her left to her small forward, allowing King to use her body in a pick as Hodge eased behind her and onto an open spot in the corner, unguarded. The ball flew into her hands and left just as quickly, arcing through the air and through the net for a three point play.

The crowd cheered and Hodge pumped her fist as she backpedaled, then stepped in, returning a favor by stealing the ball from McKinney and dishing it off to a speeding Chaney for an easy lay-up.

The crowd cheered again, and Hodge shouted happily.

She was back.

“And that wraps up our coverage of the Birmingham Badger?s opening game, with the Badgers loosing a hard fought battle, 94 ? 88. Any parting thoughts, Melinda?”

“Well, Todd, after a somewhat rocky start, Catherine Hodges showed flashes of why she was chosen by Coach Lambert as the first pick in the draft. With twelve points and nine assists, she was responsible for almost half of the Badgers? offence, and she was a defensive dynamo as well, managing three steals against McKinney, arguably the best point guard in the league.”

“I agree, Melinda. Her teammate Shaniqua Chaney, who led all scorers with twenty two points is also going to be a force to be reckoned with in the coming weeks. If they can just work on their defensive scheme and foul-shooting, I think Badgers fans could be in for quite a ride this season.”

“Can?t say much more than that, Todd.”

“Then I guess that about wraps it up. From all of us here at Southern Sports Network, here?s bidding you goodnight from Horace Johnson Arena where the Birmingham Badgers lose to the New York Thunder 94 – 88.”

Cat stood at the top of the key bouncing the ball slowly, back and forth between her hands. She looked around the mostly dark arena. Everyone was gone now, and the only sound in Cat?s ears was the roar of a ghostly crowd that did its best to cheer the team to a victory.

“Sorry, guys,” she offered to the net as she shot the ball at it like a missile. “Guess I blew it this time.”

Her teeth bared in an expression that was half growl, half grimace as she caught the ball on the rebound. She hated losing. Hated it with every fiber of her being. And to know that the loss rested on her shoulders made an intolerable situation even worse.

“Shit. What a joke.”

“What makes you say that?”

Cat?s head dropped when she heard the voice behind her.

“Well.” Coach Lambert drew steadily closer, her steps resounding softly on the court floor. “What makes you think you?re a joke, Catherine?”

“Come on Coach.” Hodge turned around to face the tall woman. “We should have won that game.”

“Why? Those were last year?s champions. What makes you think we could have beaten them?”

“We?re better than they are.”

“Are we?”

“Yes,” Cat shifted on her foot. “Well the team is better than they are. I?m not sure I am. I choked.”

“We already had this conversation. You did not choke. You lost your stride.” A corner of Dylan?s mouth curved up. “Actually you didn?t lose it; you just had a hard time finding it.” Dylan moved to where the ball had come to rest near the wall. She bounced it a couple times, enjoying the feel of it against her hand. She pulled it to her chest and fired it at Cat, who caught it smoothly.

“Why were you staying away from the ball, Cat?”

“I wasn?t.”

“Yes, you were. Every play you called, put you as far away from the ball as humanly possible without you playing in another arena. Why?”

Hodge narrowed her eyes. “I?m the point guard. It?s my job to create opportunities for my teammates.”

“Mm.” Dylan pretended to consider Cat?s statement.

Hodge tried again. “The other players have more experience.”

“And you?re going to get your own experience?.how, again?”

Sighing, Hodge bowed her head, well and truly caught out.

“So, can I count on you being in the game and giving it one hundred percent next time around?”

Hodge felt her cheeks flush at the gentle reprimand. She nodded. “I promise.”

“Good.”

Cat passed the ball back to Dylan who stepped back to the perimeter and sunk a three pointer that seemed as effortless as breathing.

“How did you know I?d be here?” Hodge asked, curious.

“Because,” Dylan passed the ball back and pointed at the net, indicating Cat should shoot, “when I was a rookie and a game didn?t end the way I wanted, this is always where I ended up. Running it through my mind and trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

Cat shot the ball; it bounced off the rim and landed directly in Dylan?s hands. The Coach sent it back to the blonde. “Do it again.”

“So when you were running it through, did you ever find the spot were you screwed up?” Cat inquired as she fingered the ball, twisting it in her hands.

“No.” Dylan shrugged. “I found spots where I could have been a stronger player, but never where I messed up so much it cost us the game.”

“So my little imitation of an ice cube in the first half didn?t cost us the game?”

“Do you think it did?”

Hodge sighed and shot the ball, rattling the rim several times before it slipped through. “That?s just the point, Coach. I don?t know.”

Dylan?s gaze softened. “Trust me. If you had cost this team the game, I would have been the first to tell you. You had first game jitters, it happens. Hell it may happen again. Just don?t let it get you next time.”

“Yes, Coach.” Cat smiled and took another shot. The ball went in with the sweet sound of nothing but net.

“That?s more like it. So are you exhausted?”

“Actually believe it or not, I?m not. I?m kinda charged.”

“Little one on one?”

“Against you?” Cat grinned and shrugged. “Sure why not, I?ve already had once ass whipping tonight, another one won?t kill me.”

Dylan chuckled as she stripped off her sweat jacket. Cat noticed for the very first time, now that she was coming out of her funk, that the Coach had changed clothes. She swallowed hard when she got a good look at well-toned arms under the tank top.

Oh shit! Cat, don?t go there. Don?t do this to yourself. This is your coach, your hero. Your basketball idol. You cannot have those thoughts about her. Stop it!

“Earth to Catherine. Head out of the clouds please. Let?s go.” She fired the ball at Cat and took up a defensive position under the net. “Come on Shortchange. Let?s see what you got against this old war horse.”

“That?s it! Game point.” Dylan pulled the ball to her body and watched as Cat bent at the waist, trying to catch her breath. “You okay?”

“I?m?I?m?” She gulped. “Great. Damn.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she looked up at Dylan who didn?t even appear to have broken a sweat. “Tell me again why you don?t play anymore?”

Dylan smirked and waggled her hand. “Eh, the knee still has its limitations.”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Dylan?s brow rose as she tossed a towel to the rookie. “What did you just say?”

“I said,” Cat paused to wipe off her face and neck, before looking at Dylan once again. “Bullshit. You?ve got more game in your little finger than the rest of us have in our entire bodies.” She gestured to herself. “Look at me, I?m drenched. You ran me ragged out there and you never broke a sweat. I don?t know why you?re not playing Coach, but it ain?t because of that knee.”

Dylan watched, slightly amazed as Cat gathered up her gear and the ball and headed for the locker room. “Well, well, looks like my little spitfire has gotten her spark back.”

With Cat well out of sight, Dylan sat down on the bench and pulled up her sweat pant leg to look at her knee, which was just a little swollen, but not hurting too bad. “She may also have your number, Pallas. This could be bad.”

The Coach rose from the bench and gathered her own gear before heading from the court. “Shit,” she mumbled.

“Alright, that?s a wrap ladies.” Dylan tossed her whistle onto the bench and eyed each of her players in turn. “I want you showered, changed, and home in bed early. Tomorrow?s gonna be a long day.”

Groans mixed with cheers as the players started for the locker room. Dylan shook her head and led her assistant coaches to her arena office, to ready the plays they would use for tomorrow?s game.

Two weeks had passed since their first game, and Dylan was well pleased with the progress the team was making. It was a slow process, but they were finally beginning to jell. Cat, in particular, had taken her advice to heart and was showing flashes of brilliance on the court.

They?d played another game in the interim, against the Seattle Charge who?d shared the cellar with them the year prior. The Badgers had won the game handily, by over twenty points, and Cat had earned herself a double-double with sixteen points and twelve assists. She?d shown absolutely none of the tentative play she?d displayed in the first game, and was beginning to become a true leader on the court. And off it, as well.

Tomorrow?s game would be a true test as they went up against Los Angeles, the best team in their division. To make matters worse, Dylan and the Los Angeles coach shared a long history, and none of it was pleasant.

Marcia Blanks had been a junior at Stanford when Dylan burst onto the scene. Once considered the best power forward in the game, bar none, Marcia?s thunder was quite easily stolen by the young hotshot from UCLA, who eclipsed Blanks? records without much of an effort at all. She?d done the same once turning pro, and the relationship between them had gone downhill from there.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, Dylan concentrated on putting the finishing touches to the structure of the next game, then dismissed her assistants, intending to follow her own advice and get a good night?s sleep.

Dylan left her office and crossed back toward the arena proper. While still some distance away from the court, her keen hearing picked up the sound of a basketball hitting varnished wood, and she quickened her steps, a bit irked that someone obviously hadn?t understood her orders for an early night.

And yet it was with somewhat less than total surprise when she entered the arena itself to see the profile of Catherine Hodges, standing on the foul-line with a rack of balls at her side, sinking foul shots, one after the other.

When the rack was empty, Hodge stopped and turned toward Dylan, whom she?d heard enter moments before. A slight redness suffused her cheeks as she met her coach?s eyes, then disappeared as she lowered her head. “Hey, Coach.”

“Mm,” Dylan answered through pursed lips, left eyebrow slightly arched.

“I know?I know. I should be home now getting ready for bed. But I?um?.” A sweeping gesture of her arm encompassed the rack and basket. Her blush deepened.

With that, the puzzle pieces came together and Dylan understood. Athletes, like actors, were on the whole a superstitious lot. Dylan herself had had her share of superstitions during her playing days, though none had, to date, moved on to her coaching career. “How many?”

The blonde head lifted, and Hodge smiled with relief at being understood. “Twenty.”

“In a row?”

“Yeah.”

Dylan nodded, impressed. “And you did it?”

“Just now, yes.”

“Good. So you?re ready to head home?”

Hodge nodded.

“Alright. I?ll walk you to your car.”

As they turned to leave, Dylan was stopped by a call from Mac, who entered the arena at a trot. Suppressing a sigh, Dylan turned. “Yes?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute? It won?t take long, but I?ve got a message from Johnson.”

This time, Dylan did sigh, and turned back to Hodge, who smiled in commiseration. “I?ll be ok,” Cat replied softly. “See you tomorrow?”

Dylan nodded. “Get a good night?s rest.”

“I will. Night, Coach. Night, Mac.”

With a final smile at them both, she turned and left through the main doors.

When the doors closed, Dylan rounded on Mac. “Alright, what was so important that you had to run down and find me at,” she checked her watch, “nine thirty?”

Mac grimaced. “Johnson?s a prick.”

Dylan?s eyes widened in faux amazement. “And this is a newsflash??”

“I?m serious, D. He wants you with him Friday night at a meeting of our corporate sponsors.”

“No way. I handle the team, not the finances, Mac. You go hold his hand for him. Leave me out of it.”

“No can do, I?m afraid. Boss man wants you.”

“Why, for Christ?s sake?! Is the world ending??”

“You?d think so, the way he?s bitching.” Mac sighed, and spread his hands. “Look, the sponsors are meeting over the gay thing.”

Dylan?s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “The?gay?thing?”

Mac had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Yeah. Did you see the ?Out and About? this month?”

“Sorry, Mac, I?ve been a little busy. Reading trashy magazines right at the top of my to-do list, though.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, take a look at this.” Reaching into his back pocket, Mac retrieved a rolled magazine and handed it to Dylan.

On the front cover was a woman in a Badger?s uniform, face blacked out. By the silhouette, it was obviously Catherine Hodges. In place of her face was a large white question mark. The blaring print over the picture read “WOMEN?S BASKETBALL: GAY MECCA?”

Dylan?s expression became granite. Only her eyes, which she raised to Mac, were blazing. “Tell me this is a joke.”

“Wish I could D. It came out yesterday. Johnson?s been fielding panicked calls all day. The sponsors are threatening to pull out. He?s freaking.”

The expletives that echoed through the large, empty arena would have done a sailor proud.

Mac?s ears were ringing by the time Dylan wound down, and he shook his head, knowing his friend was right. Still?.

“I still think this meeting is a good thing, D. We need to nip this shit in the bud before it escalates. The threats have been bad enough.”

Dylan froze. “Threats? What kind of threats?”

“Oh, you know. The usual ?ride the lesbo bitch out of town on a rail or we?ll do it for you? threats.” Mac shrugged. “No big deal.”

Dylan?s stomach twisted slowly, as her heart stuttered its way through several beats. “How long?” she demanded, trapping Mac?s wrist in an iron grip.

“Wha-? Ow, Dylan, damnit, you?re hurting me!”

“How. Long.”

“Since Catherine got drafted,” Mac admitted, hanging his head, the pain in his wrist forgotten in his chagrin.

“What? And you didn?t think to tell me?!? What the fuck were you thinking, Mac? What the?shit!” Dylan stiffened. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. “Shit. Oh, goddamn it!”

Releasing Mac, Dylan turned and broke into a run, plowing through the front doors like a running back through a defensive line.

“D?” Mac shouted after, confused. “Dylan? What?s going on?”

There was, of course, no answer save for the echo of the doors as they slammed closed.

“Shit.”

Groaning and rubbing his sore wrist, Mac started after her.

Dylan pounded out the door, then stopped as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding her. Darkness that was broken only by a few sodium arc lamps buzzing complacently throughout the massive parking lot, mute witnesses all.

A soft sound carried on the night breeze. Dylan tensed and cocked her head, trying to determine both the sound and its location. When it came again, she was moving before it even fully registered within her brain. Forward several yards, then to the left, to the second row of cars, and down to her own, parked under one of the few lights still on.

Looking down, she felt her heart stutter briefly in her chest.

“Oh, Catherine,” she whispered, coming down to her knees and gently cradling the red-streaked head. Cat?s face was a mask of blood, most of it from a small cut above her left eye?an eye that was already beginning to swell and blacken. Her nose, and a split lower lip added their own hues to the mix.

Her polo shirt had been torn from the back, as if she?d attempted to flee and had been grabbed by the collar from behind. The knuckles of her left hand were scraped, bruised and swollen, and the way she lay in a fetal position, guarding her midsection even while unconscious, caused Dylan to believe she?d been beaten there as well.

Dylan blinked unaccustomed sting of tears away, turning her head in a savage gesture as she heard Mac?s belated arrival.

“Jesus Christ,” Mac breathed, clamping a hand over his mouth and paling. The sight of blood had never been his strong suit.

“Puke and I?ll kill you where you stand,” Dylan snarled.

“Wha?” Mac swallowed heavily. “What happened?”

“She got the shit beaten out of her. Where the fuck is security?!”

“I don?t?”

His voice was cut off by the sound of falling glass.

Dylan stiffened, then stood, quickly, after laying Hodge?s head gently back on the pavement.

“Stay with her,” Dylan ordered as she began to turn in the direction of the sound.

“What?”

“You heard me. Stay with her.”

With that, Dylan took off, her form immediately surrounded by the darkness of the Alabama night. With a shaky breath, Mac slowly lowered himself to the ground and cradled Cat?s bloody head on his lap. “Hang on kid,” he whispered as he listened to her steady, if rasping breaths. “You?re gonna be ok.”

Dylan padded quickly, softly, along the blacktop parking lot, keeping to the pooling shadows as she headed toward the sound she?d heard. The source of the sound soon became readily apparent as Hodge?s desecrated truck came into full view. Dylan?s fists clenched; the muscles in her jaw bunched and jumped in anger.

Cat?s old and much-beloved truck had been reduced to a forlorn and hulking wreck of metal sitting on four macerated tires. Shattered glass lay like glittering diamonds strewn across the lot, winking under the sputtering lamp illuminating the horrific scene. Spray painted in jagged neon letters across the passenger?s side, and shot through with gaping holes from a tire iron, were the slogans “GOD HATES QUEERS!!” and “KILL ALL DYKES!!”

Her blood boiling with rage, Dylan carefully stepped over the remains of the truck?s headlights as she circled the vehicle. Other slurs were painted and scored into the metal.

“Motherfucker,” Dylan growled, shaking her head as she continued to circle the truck. “Stupid fucking bastards!” Her fist came down on the truck?s tailgate. A shrieking of metal, and the ruined bumper finally gave up the ghost, clattering to the ground, barely missing Dylan?s feet. “Fuck!!”

Spinning quickly, she nearly flattened the face of an overweight security guard lumbering belatedly toward the scene. Dropping her arm slightly, she grabbed the collar of his shirt instead, and dragged him forward and up until their faces were less than inches apart. “How?d this happen, Tommy? Where the fuck were you, huh? Sleeping? Jerking off? What?!?”

“T?takin? a leak!” the security guard gasped against the choking hold.

“Awfully fortuitous time for you to be emptying your bladder, maggot,” Dylan snarled, baring her teeth at him and giving him a shake that rattled his bones.

“It?s the truth! I swear!”

Dylan looked hard into his rheumy eyes and saw only terror staring back at her. After a moment, she released her hold on his shirt and shoved him away. “Call the police.”

“But?”

“Now!”

Mumbling under his breath, the guard finally walked back toward his office. Dylan considered giving him a kick to the ass to aid him on his way, quickly discarded the thought as she ran back to Cat and Mac.

Dropping to her knees, she took hold of Hodge and pushed Mac out of the way. “Go inside and tell Kelly not to close up shop. She?s got a customer.”

Mac stood slowly, looking down at Dylan, concerned. “Are you sure? Shouldn?t I call an ambulance?”

“Just do as I say, Mac,” Dylan replied, distracted as she gathered Cat close and slipped an arm under her knees. “G?wan. I?ll be right there.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Mac nodded. “She?ll be okay.”

“She better be, Mac. She?d just better be.”

As Mac walked away, Dylan gathered her strength and lifted Cat up in her arms. Her powerful legs surged and burned with the burden. Catherine carried more weight than her lithe and compact frame would indicate. The thick muscle overlaying her bones was dense and heavy. Dylan gritted her teeth and began her walk back to the arena.

Kelly Norton, MD, had two very important things going for her as the chief physician of the Birmingham Badgers. The first was that she was a former Olympian who sported a gold medal as part of the USA women?s basketball team. The second, undeniably more important, was that she was regarded as one of the best orthopaedic surgeons in the nation. She had a huge and thriving practice that she left, willingly, to her partners for four months out of the year while she followed the Badgers from state to state, tending to their injuries and attempting to prevent more.

The Johnson Arena?s medical facilities were first rate, combining a mini urgent care center, minor surgery suite and several pieces of expensive X-ray and diagnostic equipment, along with a full physical therapy department. Staffed by Norton, her Nurse Practitioner, two Registered Nurses, and one Physical Therapist, it was truly state-of-the-art.

Norton, short, spry, and pushing fifty, was just putting the finishing touches on her day when the doors burst open to admit a panting Mac. Straightening quickly, she walked to the other side of the examination table and laid a concerned hand on Mac?s thick wrist. “What?s wrong?”

“Cat?.” Mac paused to take a deep breath. “Catherine Hodges. She was badly beaten. Dylan is bringing her in now.”

“Beaten how?” Norton asked, springing into action and flipping on the overhead lights. “By whom?”

“Assholes,” Dylan snarled, entering with Cat in her arms and placing her tenderly on the table. “They beat the shit out of her.”

“Okay, okay, let me take a look at her. Move away, Dylan, you?re blocking my light.”

As Dylan stepped back, Mac touched her arm. “I?ll call the police,” he said in a voice heavy with guilt.

“They?re already on their way. I had Tommy call them.”

Mac lowered his gaze to the floor. “Dylan, I?.”

“Just?go outside and wait for them, Mac. Let us know when they?re here.”

After a moment, Mac nodded and, eyes still downcast, left the room.

“How is she?” Dylan asked, turning back to the table.

“Difficult to say yet,” Norton answered in a distracted tone as she gently probed Cat?s facial injuries. “Most of the bleeding?s stopped but I?m worried about a concussion. Doesn?t feel like anything?s fractured.” Piercing hazel eyes locked into Dylan?s. “How long has she been unconscious?”

Dylan shook her head. “I?m not sure. I found her like this?by my car. I don?t think it could have been any more than five minutes.”

Nodding, Norton removed a small penlight from her labcoat and gently pried Hodge?s eyelids open, one at a time. “Her pupils are responding equally. That makes me feel a lot better about things.” This time, when she looked up at Dylan, Norton smiled slightly. “I let my staff go for the evening, so I?ll need your help. You don?t faint at the sight of blood, do you?”

Dylan gave her a look.

Norton laughed softly. “Didn?t think so. In that bin in back of you there are some sterile dressings and saline. Get them down for me, will you?”

By the time Dylan returned with the requested items, Norton had stripped Cat of her shirt and bra and was gingerly palpating her abdomen and ribs.

Dylan felt a heat rise to her face at the sight of Cat?s body, and her eyes darted quickly away. Deal with this later, she told herself in a stern mental voice. Taking in a deep breath, she turned back to the examination table, holding up the gauze and saline.

Looking up from her exam, Norton nodded briskly. “Uncap the saline and pour it over the gauze. We?ll need to wipe the blood from her face so I can see how bad her cuts are.”

“Her?.” Dylan cleared her throat and gestured toward Cat?s torso.

Norton bit off a smile at Dylan?s uncharacteristic flustered state. “Her ribs are bruised, but I don?t think any are broken. X-rays will tell us for sure. I don?t think there are any internal injuries, but she?s gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.” The doctor lifted Cat?s left arm, displaying the young woman?s bruised, swollen, and cut knuckles. “And as for this, I?d say she gave as good as she got. Tough kid.”

“Yes,” Dylan replied softly. “She is.”

“Alright then. Let?s get to work. I?ll clean off her face, then we?ll take her into X-ray. Find out what we have to work with here.”

They worked in silence for the next several minutes, tenderly cleaning away the dried blood that had accumulated on Cat?s face and neck. With the application of a local anesthetic, Norton sunk three sutures into the cut above the young woman?s brow, then covered the area with a bandage.

“Ok, that?s all I can do for right now. She?s gonna have a nice shiner, but the eye itself isn?t injured, and her nose is going to be sore for a few days, but it should heal just fine on its own. I?ll wheel her into X-ray and get a look at those ribs.”

The police arrived just as Norton was wheeling Hodge into the X-ray suite. Dylan stepped out of the exam room to speak with the two uniformed officers. It only took minutes to tell them what little she knew, and to secure a promise that the media would not be informed of this attack at this time. She also told them she would take the responsibility of notifying Catherine?s family, which the men agreed to.

The officers were ones Dylan had met before, and she knew that if anyone could find out who committed the assault, it would be them. The taller one, Sergeant Tony Moore, was a deeply closeted gay man, and his partner was an outstanding, open-minded police officer.

After shaking hands with the officers, Dylan returned to the examination room in time to see a very groggy, but awake, Cat wheeled back in. Dylan smiled in relief and crossed the room to stand beside the stretcher. “How are you doing?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back in order to resist the urge to reach out and stroke the young woman?s hair.

“Feel like I got run over by an elephant,” Cat replied, her voice slightly muffled from her swollen nose and upper lip.

Blue eyes darted up to the physician. “Is there anything you can give her for pain?”

Norton smiled. “Getting to that right now, Coach.” Crossing the room, the doctor retrieved a medication vial and a wrapped syringe. “Catherine, I?m going to give you some medicine to help with your pain. It?s going to make you pretty sleepy.”

“Sleepy is good,” Cat replied, wincing as she shifted in the bed. “Sleepy is real good.”

Norton returned with the filled syringe. “You?re going to need to be watched over for a couple of hours. Do you live with a roommate? Family?”

“No,” Cat whispered, eyes forlorn.

“It?s ok,” Dylan replied, stepping forward. “I?ll take her home and keep an eye on her.” She looked down at Hodge. “If that?s okay with you.”

“I don?t want to be a bother.”

Dylan didn?t miss the faint blush that suffused Cat?s face as the younger woman?s eyes darted away from her own.

“It?s settled then.” Picking up Cat?s housekeys where they lay on the table next to the stretcher, Dylan jiggled them in one fist. “Home it is.”

“Ok, let?s get this shot over with then, Cat, and you can be on your way. Nothing broken, just banged up. You should be as good as new in a week or so.”

“Hate shots,” Cat mumbled, but didn?t make a sound when the drug was injected into her hip. Her eyelids soon grew very heavy, and, allowing them to slip closed, she was soon deeply asleep.

“Are you sure she?s going to be okay?” Dylan asked, concerned.

“Yes. She?s a very lucky woman. Just keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn?t try to get up on her own in the middle of the night. The drug I just gave her is pretty potent stuff.” From the pocket of her lab coat, Norton retrieved a bottle of pills. “Give her one of these with water no sooner than every four hours if she complains of pain.”

Dylan took the pills and pocketed them. “Will do. Anything else?”

“No. You have my number in case anything comes up, but it shouldn?t. As I said, she?s very lucky.”

“I don?t know if I?d call what happened to her ?lucky?, my friend,” Dylan softly commented, looking down at Catherine?s bruised and swollen face. Rage once again flared through her, but she clamped down on it with savage intent.

Time enough for anger later, when it would do some good.

Dylan unlocked the door with one hand while holding Cat up with the other arm securely wrapped around the young woman?s waist. “You might be small, but you?re packed,” she grumbled as she attempted to move the heavily sedated woman inside.

Hodge roused a bit at the sound of Dylan?s voice, and giggled at what she thought?in her drugged stupor?she?d heard. “Stacked?” She giggled again. “I didn?t think you?d noticed.” She tried to get a peek down her own cleavage, but for some reason, her arms weren?t cooperating. Nor were her eyes, which seemed to be content right where they were, staring at Dylan?s beautiful face in profile.

“Oh believe me,” Dylan mumbled, half under her breath, “I noticed.” The words came out without her permission, but strangely, it didn?t feel as out of place as it should. She?d have to think about that later, too.

“I heard that,” Cat replied in a sing-song voice. “Pallas Dylan The Goddess Lambert thinks I?m stacked.” That came out a little louder than Dylan expected. A lot louder, actually, and she found herself looking up and down the hallway, praying she was the only one who?d overheard the declaration.

An empty hallway answered her prayers, and she looked down at the young woman again, finding her deeply asleep and all but lounging on Dylan?s tall, strong form. “Oh boy,” Dylan breathed, shifting her body and pulling the limp young woman into her arms once again.

Flipping a switch right next to the door, Dylan prayed for light and was rewarded. It was just an entry light but it was enough so she could see into the loft apartment. If the situation hadn?t been so serious Dylan probably would have been impressed with Cat?s taste and her level of organization. As it was, all she wanted to do was get the young woman to bed.

She took a better hold on Cat, who groaned at the stronger contact. “Sorry,” she whispered as they made their way into the large living room. Very gingerly she lowered her battered player to the sofa, taking care to arrange her position as gently as possible.

Reaching over to the end table she clicked on the lamp that sent more soft light into the well-kept living space. She noticed the bedroom on the second floor, seen easily through the loft railing, and trudged up the steps. Approaching the large bed, she stripped back the comforter and took the blanket underneath and grabbed a pillow before heading back down the stairs and into the living room.

Returning to Cat, she placed the items on the back of the couch and then took a deep breath as she prepared for what she knew she had to do next. First she removed the player?s sneakers and tossed them to the floor. Then she reached for the snap of her jeans. Slowly and very carefully she undressed the young woman, leaving her clad in her panties, sports bra and socks. Once Cat was covered with the blanket, Dylan released a breath she wasn?t aware she had been holding.

“I don?t think you?re gonna want these anymore,” she whispered, holding the ripped and bloodied clothes in her hands. Looking around, she spied a tall garbage can in the kitchen and disposed of the clothing promptly, shoving it down far so that it wouldn?t be the first thing Cat saw when she entered.

She leaned against the counter, wondering what she should do next. It had been a long time since she?d had to care for anyone but herself. The rustiness showed itself as indecision.

Long fingers taped repeatedly against the Formica counter top as she pondered. Calling Cat?s parents seemed to be the next logical step, but she had the feeling that Catherine wouldn?t appreciate that.

She?s an adult, Dylan. Let her make up her own mind about it. No sense butting in where you?re not needed. If she wants to call, she?ll call.

That settled, at least for the time being, Dylan opened the fridge door, pleased to find both water and various juices. She also grinned when she saw a bag of Oreo?s tucked lovingly in a zip lock bag. Apparently Cat had one or two bad habits and a few weaknesses for junk food. Dylan smiled at that as she grabbed a bottle of water and went back into the living room. She looked at the young woman, who appeared to be in pain even as she slept. “I?m so sorry Cat,” she whispered as she knelt near Cat?s head and gently brushed her hair from her forehead. “If I could make it go away, I would.”

The gentle touch felt nice; more soothing to her, she suspected, than to the pain-wracked woman lying so small and so fragile on the large couch. She smiled, then, as she noticed the tense muscles of Cat?s face relax just slightly under her gently stroking fingers. “I?m here,” she whispered, knowing it for the promise it was.

Tearing her gaze, and her fingers, away, she lowered herself to the floor beside the couch and picked up the remote to the television. The TV flickered to life, and she changed the channel from ESPN to the local news to see if the attack had been able to avoid publicity. She kept the volume low, took a drink of the water, and closed her eyes, allowing her head to rest back against the couch. She listened to the news with one ear and Cat with the other. A long groan made her sit up and turn quickly toward the couch.

“Coach. . . .”

“I?m right here.”

Green eyes opened slowly and she tried to smile, but it hurt too much. “This sucks.”

“I know. How do you feel?”

“Like every team in the league has run over my butt.” She licked her lips, grimacing at the action. “Twice.”

Dylan chuckled. The night?s stress had just about gotten to her and she was glad to see that Cat still managed to joke. “Bet the other guys don?t look too good either,” she commented, looking down at the swollen hand lying atop Cat?s abdomen.

Cat curled her fist reflexively, then winced. “Bastards.”

Dylan sat quietly for a moment, unsure what to say. Words of sorrow mixed with feelings of rage against the so-called “men” who did this, and she wasn?t sure how to express herself without it all boiling over and scaring her younger charge.

Cat seemed to understand, though, and smiled. “Thanks for being here. With me.”

Dylan returned the smile. “Anytime.”

Green eyes slid closed again, and within moments, Cat was asleep.

Sighing softly, Dylan turned back toward the television and pulled her cell phone from her pocket pressing the button that would connect her to Mac.

“Hey, D,” Mac?s soft, sleepy voice comes over the phone. “How?s Cat?”

“Sleeping. Listen we?re gonna have to take her off the roster for awhile. Put her on injured reserve. It probably won?t be any longer than a game.”

“No problem,” Mac replied. “What are we going tell the press when they ask why?”

“That?s your job, Mac.”

“I know that, D, but this is?.delicate, ya know?”

Dylan sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I haven?t thought that far ahead. I?ll let you know in the morning.”

“Where are you?”

“With Catherine. I?m staying until morning. She shouldn?t be alone. If you need me you can call the cell.”

“Right.”

“I?ll keep you posted, but let?s keep this as quiet as possible. The last thing I need is for Johnson to find out that his star player was gay bashed. He?d find a way to make it her fault.”

“Okay.” Silence, as Mac tried to think up something suitable to say. “Dylan, is she going to be all right?”

“I hope so. I?ll call later, Mac. Good night.”

“Night. Try and get some rest will ya??”

“I?ll think about it.”

“Just this one time, listen to old Mac. Don?t think, do.”

“Night Mac.” Dylan growled.

“Bye.”

She snapped the phone shut and her attention was drawn to the TV where a shot of two men being led away by police was on the screen. She turned the volume up a bit and listened.

“Police were called to the home of a local business woman this evening after she reported that there were several men in her back yard. Upon arrival the police found two of the men trying to make entry into the residence and the arrested them. Four other suspects fled the scene and have not been apprehended. Leslie Tyson is a well known lesbian business woman and the police are looking into the possibility that this was an attempted hate crime.”

Dylan smiled and opened her phone to call the officers who had responded to the assault.

Cat blinked in that drowsy state halfway between sleep and wakefulness. Groaning softly, she tried to move, but the bright spikes of pain shooting through her head arrested the attempt.

Her eyes opened enough to see daylight streaming in through the large windows. She tracked the rays to where they bathed the woman sleeping on the floor near the couch in a golden, almost heroic, glow.

Like a goddess, Cat thought, still groggy from the drugs she?d been given. A thrill went through her, centering in her abdomen and giving off an almost palpable warmth. The Goddess is sleeping in my living room!

If she didn?t hurt so badly, she would have laughed at the absurd irony of it all. As it was, she was tired, and aching, and needed to pee in the worst way.

“Coach?”

Startled, Dylan yawned and stretched, her muscles voicing great displeasure at a night spent on the floor.

“Coach?”

She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, running long fingers through her disheveled hair. “Morning.” Her voice was thick, and husky with sleep. “How do you feel?”

Cat groaned as she attempted to copy Dylan?s actions, stopping when her abused belly and ribs shrieked. “Kill me?”

“Sorry, I think we?ll keep you around for awhile.”

“Not even if I beg?”

“Not even then.”

Scowling, Cat slumped against the arm of the couch, her head spinning. “Help me sit up, will ya?”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Dylan quickly rose to her feet. “It?s probably best if you just stay here for now. I can bring you anything you need.”

“Alright, but the toilet?s gonna be a bitch to move.”

Dylan froze.

Cat smiled. “I think it?s probably better if you help me up.”

“I?think you?re right.” Moving in, Dylan slid one long arm around Cat?s shoulders and helped the young woman to a sitting position.

“Oh shit that hurts!” Cat grabbed her tender ribs and took a deep breath, which also hurt. She refrained from crying though she really wanted to. The only thing that kept her from it was the fact that she didn?t want to look weak in front of her coach.

“Easy. Would you like some pain pills?”

“A dozen please. The best you have.”

“You can have one.” Dylan fished the bottle from her pocket and uncapped it. “Juice?”

“Please.”

Cat didn?t move a muscle while Dylan went to the kitchen for juice. “Anything broken?” she asked, wincing as she awaited the verdict.

“No. Just a few bumps and bruises.” Returning to the living room, Dylan handed a glass of OJ and one pain pill to Cat, then gently took a seat next to her as the blonde quickly swallowed the medicine. “Do you want to call your folks?”

Cat?s eyes went wide. “Oh, God. You didn?t call them, did you?”

“No. I figured that?s your decision to make.”

Cat nodded fervently, relieved. “Thanks, Coach. My mother would freak and my father would be on the next plane. I don?t think I could deal with that right now.”

Dylan took in a deep breath, aware that she was treading in dangerous waters. “I know this is none of my business, but if I were you, I?d probably call.” At Cat?s look, Dylan rushed on. “You?re a public figure now, Catherine. And you?ve got a great family. Do you really want them to find out what happened to you on the evening news? Or while they?re watching you play?”

Cat blanched.

Dylan smiled, laying a hand on the younger woman?s shoulder. “Think about it, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”

“Atta girl.”

Upon entering her home, Dylan was greeted by two yellow-eyed dogs who scampered around her with rear legs just about crossed. Rolling her eyes, she led the pair toward the back door, chuckling as Siegfried elected to forgo his usual sniffing and headed for the first tree he could find, practically drowning the poor Dogwood he?d hiked his leg against.

“Idiots,” she said with great affection. “Why don?t you just use the pet door?”

Having finished her business, Brunhilde strolled over and sat at Dylan?s foot, giving the tall human a pointed look. Dylan chuckled again, scratching Brunhilde behind the ears. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Your big, mean, trained to attack and kill brother is afraid of the damn pet door. And you won?t go out without him. God, you?re like an old married couple, sometimes.”

Brunhilde nudged her once, then went to romp with her sibling. Dylan stood, face tilted up to the cloudless sky. The sun felt good on her face, but was making her more drowsy than she already was. She hadn?t slept much the night before, tossing and turning and awakening every two minutes to check on Catherine. Not that she?d admit that to anyone but herself, of course.

Still, her nerves had eased considerably as she?d helped Catherine bathe and change her bandages, and by the time the young woman had slipped off to sleep, comfortable in her own bed, Dylan was feeling a sense of satisfaction rare for her.

A cold nose shoved into her belly drew her from her reverie. “Alright, guys. I?ve got a game tonight, and if I don?t get some sleep, it?s not gonna be pretty, so let?s go back inside, alright?”

She was left alone, laughing, as two dogs bolted back inside as if their tails were on fire.

Cat stared at the phone, not wanting to pick it up. Dylan?s words echoed in her head, and she winced at the remembering of them.

Sometimes she hated The Goddess.

Sighing, she picked up the phone and the button that dialed her folks. “Please don?t be home,” she mumbled when it rang for the third time. Please, please, please.

“Hello.”

Shit. “Um, hi Dad.”

“Cat? Hey baby, what graces us with your lovely voice?”

Cat smiled through the pain; just hearing her dad?s voice made it hurt a little less. “I?m okay, but?I need to tell you something Dad.”

“Cat, sweetheart what?s wrong?”

“Dad? I had an accident.”

She heard her father yell for her mother to pick up the phone in the kitchen. “Catherine what?s wrong?”

“Hi Mom.”

“Honey,” her father soothed. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to let you know that I got banged up a little?.”

“Cat??” her father asked.

“Banged up?” her mother interjected. “Where? How??”

“Mom.” Cat stopped her mother before it became a full fledged rant. “I?m okay, really. I went to the doctor and got checked out. Nothing broken, nothing sprained. Just a couple bumps and bruises is all. My face looks like I went ten rounds with Lewis, but I?m really okay.”

“Are you sure?” The worried tone in her mother?s voice told Cat the older woman was already trying to calculate the next flight to Birmingham.

“Perfectly sure, Mom. I mean, doctors don?t lie, you know? At least, this one doesn?t. She said I?m fine, and I am.”

“You?re sitting out the game tonight, right?” Her father asked in that tone that told her he?d better get the answer he wanted.

“I?don?t know yet. I?m gonna go in early and see what the doctor has to say.”

“You shouldn?t.”

“Dad?”

“Cat, you need time to heal.”

“I know, and if Doc says no then I won?t, but if she okays me then I?m going to play.”

“Do you want me to come and take care of you?”

“No Mom. I?m a grown woman now I don?t think that will be necessary.”

“But Catherine?”

“Mom, I?m okay. I promise you. Okay?”

“If you need us, you promise to call?”

Thank you, Dad!

“I?ll do one better than that Dad. If I need you I?ll have Coach Lambert call you. And you know she would.”

“This is true,” her mother sighed. “I do like that woman. She takes good care of you.”

“Yes, she does. Listen guys I need to go, but I wanted to let you know I love you both.”

“We love you too, honey. Take care.

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye Cat.”

“Bye honey.”

She hung up the phone and grabbed her bag with her good hand. “Well that went better than I thought.”

Dylan stepped into the locker room, fielding greetings and expressions of concern from the team. The news of Catherine?s assault had been quietly shared with the women, though the motive, for now, had been left as “unknown”. Dylan answered the questions as best she could, all the while noticing another undercurrent that hadn?t been there before.

It was an undercurrent of defeat in a group of previously confident women. She looked around, noting the slumped shoulders and dejected expressions. Sighing, she stepped quietly in front of the group and waited patiently until every eye was on her. Though there were two women in the room that topped her in height and weight, Dylan was easily the biggest person there. She was The Goddess, the player, the star. Hers was the face that graced innumerable magazine covers, and hers were the skills that snatched victory out of the hands of defeat.

“Most of the people out there expect us to lose.” Dylan met each gaze and held it for a long moment. The silence between her words allowed the sounds of the crowd outside to filter into the locker room. “The press. Our fans. The Quake.” Her shoulders squared, making her appear even larger and more formidable than before. “I don?t.”

She looked at each of them again, infusing them with her confidence, her determination, her strength. “We?re a damn good team. You know it. And I know it. And the people who don?t?” Broad shoulders shrugged. “Fuck ?em.”

A relieved chuckle, more a release of nervous tension than anything else, filled the small room. The women looked back at their coach, a new confidence in their eyes.

Dylan grinned. “Alright then. Go out and start warming up. I?ll be out in a few.”

As the newly excited women pressed out of the locker room by the main entrance, Dylan let herself out via a smaller door which opened into a narrow hallway connecting her to the on-site offices and medical area. She?d gotten no more than five steps toward her office when the door to the medical clinic opened and she found herself narrowly missing a head-on collision with none other than her up and coming star player.

“Catherine?”

Startled, Cat pulled up short, her battered face breaking out into a smile of recognition. “Hi, Coach.”

“What are you doing here? You should be in bed.”

“Well I was. Then I got up. Now I?m here.”

A raised eyebrow showed Cat plainly what her coach thought of that particular explanation.

“It?s game night,” she said softly.

“I?m aware of that,” Dylan commented, folding her arms across her chest. “That?s why I?m here. Why are you here?”

Catherine sighed. She?d known going in that this wouldn?t be easy. Still, for her own sake, she had to try. “I came early to see if Doc Norton would release me to play.”

Dylan scowled. “Catherine?.”

“Coach, please. Hear me out. I?I know you?re not too keen on me playing tonight?.”

Dylan?s low growl was the answer she expected.

“?but?I need to do this. I can?t let those bastards win. And if I don?t play, they do.”

“And if you hurt yourself worse?” Dylan asked, eyes blazing chips of ice. “Who wins then?”

Cat fought the urge to look away. It wasn?t easy, but she had something to prove. To them both. “That?s why I saw the doctor,” she stated firmly. “If she would have said ?no?, that would have been it. But she didn?t. She even gave me this.” Hodge held up a clear facemask, the kind basketball players used when they?d suffered facial injuries during a game. “She said as long as I?m careful and wear this, I should be okay.”

“?Should? being the operative word.”

“Coach?.”

“Catherine, we?re not talking about some street corner blacktop game here.” Dylan?s hands gestured wildly, mimicking the turmoil of her emotions. “We?re talking about your career. Your life.”

“I know.” Reaching out, she clamped a firm hand on Dylan?s wrist. “And for both of those things, I need to do this. Not for Johnson, not even for you, but for me. I have to prove to myself that I can do this. That those bastards haven?t won.”

Their gazes met and locked for a long, intense moment.

“If I hurt the team, make even one tiny mistake, bench me. Hell, I?ll bench myself. But this?this I need.”

Though it went against every instinct that Dylan possessed, she finally nodded.

Cat?s face lit up like the sun. “Thanks, Coach!”

“Don?t thank me yet,” Dylan growled, mentally slapping herself silly for giving in to big green eyes and a pleading voice. “Just remember your word. If I see you playing just a hair off, I?ll bench you faster than shit through a goose. Understand?”

Cat?s nose wrinkled at the analogy, but she nodded. “I understand.”

“Alright then. Get out with the others and warm up.”

Cat grinned all the way to the court.

Cat made her way to center court wondering, not for the first time, if what she was about to do was all that good of an idea. Needing to keep her senses and wits about her, she?d eschewed even the aspirin offered up by the kindly Doc Norton, and now she was paying the price. Her head was ringing like a bell, but she could deal with that, having played through headaches before. It was her belly and ribs, however, that made taking a shot or making a pass an exercise in exquisite pain. She?d even caught herself flinching when one of her teammates had rifled a pass to her. Thank God Dylan hadn?t come out on the court yet. Cat knew she?d have been benched before the first whistle blew.

She met with yet another obstacle as she took her place on the court. Her old nemesis, Keisha Brown, drafted an ignoble fifth and starting for the LA Quake, took up a position beside her, sneering as she gave Cat a slow, head to toe glance. “So, butchie, what happened? Your girlfriend didn?t like the way you fucked her last night?”

Brown?s words caused a surge of anger to rise up in Cat, a surge she was hard-pressed to push down. She wanted to lash out, to hurt someone as she had been hurt, to make the pain go away by forcing it upon someone else. And Brown was there, in her face, all but asking for it, bringing back the memories of the night before with crystal clarity.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped inside her, she felt the anger recede behind a wall as cold and hard as the winter?s ground. Some of that coldness must have reached her eyes, because Brown took a half step backward, uncertainly flashing briefly across her features.

The whistle blew, and it was time to get down to business.

Cat played like a machine, as if the seeds of her talent had burst into full bloom all at once. The basket seemed to her the size of a swimming pool; her teammates, ten feet tall. She made passes without looking and shots without aiming, hitting the mark time and time again. It looked effortless, and to Cat, it was.

Her teammates, and even the opposition, watched with awe as she blazed through the court like a comet. Brown couldn?t touch her. No one could. She was, as they say, “in the zone”, and nothing, short of a natural disaster, could get her out of it.

It never came. The Badgers won by 19 points, and Cat finished the game with a career high 28 points and 17 assists. She was carried from the court on the shoulders of her teammates as they jostled and fought for the right to bear her up.

When they arrived in the locker-room, the women set Cat gently down and continued their celebration with handslaps and loud cheers. Though in the center of the melee, Cat felt strangely detached, almost as if she were watching what was going on from somewhere outside of herself.

The feeling worried her, but was quickly swept away under the tide of enthusiastic congratulations directed her way.

Dylan pushed her way through the celebrants, accepting congratulations of her own for the game plan she?d put into place. She wasn?t ashamed to admit that it had felt damn good to trounce her old nemesis like that. Said trouncing was a long time in coming, and it tasted sweet.

As she made her way to the center of the crowd, she laid a gentle hand on Cat?s sweat-soaked shoulder, smiling when the younger woman spun to face her. “Good game,” she said softly, knowing Cat could hear her.

“Thanks, Coach. Thanks for believing in me and letting me do this.”

“No problem.”

Dylan was about to turn away, but something stopped her. Something about the look in Cat?s vibrant eyes. It was a look she hadn?t seen from the young woman before, and had doubted she ever would. There seemed to be some sort of hard, savage joy there mixing with the honest pleasure of a job well done. It gave Dylan pause.

“Are you alright?” she asked, tone still soft.

Cat blinked, then smiled. “Sure. I feel great!”

Still, Dylan paused, unsure of what she thought she?d seen was a figment of her imagination or actually there. She wanted to say something, but wasn?t sure what. It left her uncharacteristically tongue tied.

As if sensing Dylan?s discomfiture, Cat broadened her grin and laid a hand atop the one on her shoulder. “I promise, Coach. I?m fine. I can?t even feel my bruises and I think I?ll be riding high for the rest of the night. Some game, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dylan replied, giving a half-hearted smile. “Some game.”

The moment was interrupted by Mac entering in to congratulate them both, and by the time Dylan knew what was happening, Cat had been swept away to the showers and she was on her way to meet Johnson for what she was sure would be falsely offered praise. Her gut twisted with worry for a brief moment, then she let it go as she allowed Mac to lead her to the skybox suite where Johnson was waiting.

The next several days went quickly and quietly, though not without note. Cat?s injuries had begun to heal, and she seemed none the worse for wear. She followed instruction precisely as ever and was sharp as the edge of a razor in practice. If anything, at least outwardly, the assault that had tested Cat?s resolve had left her stronger than ever before.

Still, Dylan was concerned, and watched her with a hawk?s eye. It was nothing she could point to and say “There! This is what?s wrong!” It was more of a feeling; a nebulous thing that told Dylan that things weren?t exactly as they seemed. Every time she asked Catherine how things were going she was put off?nicely, but put off nonetheless?with a smiling, polite “Everything?s great, Coach! Couldn?t be better!”

The look in those green eyes was sincerity itself.

Why, then, did she know, deep in her gut, that Cat was lying?

She spent her days frustrated, caught between the rock of wanting to know if everything was okay with her star player, and the hard place of not wishing to intrude upon Cat?s private life. Divining emotions from subtle hints was never her strong suit, and her frustration left her snappish and tense. She?d all but bitten Mac?s head off when he?d had the temerity of asking her to go with him for some lunch, scaring the big man out of a few years of life. He?d left her alone to stew then, taking great pains to keep from darkening her doorstep any more than he had to.

Luckily for Dylan, her dealings with Johnson and the advertisers had come off much better than expected. A large group of lesbians, gay men, and open minded individuals had heard about the threatened pull-out and had made it clear that they would boycott the boycotters, thereby proving once again that in the business world, capitalism won out over bigoted morality every time.

With that piece of desiccated meat swept clean from her overfull plate, Dylan was left once again to ponder.

By the end of the second week, Dylan had had enough. The worry in her gut wouldn?t go away no matter how she tried to subdue it. She knew her mood would remain miserable until she was finally able to put away any doubts she harbored over Catherine?s emotional state. And those doubts could only be put away by talking to the young woman herself.

Privately.

Her mind made up, she waited until after practice on Friday evening, staying away until she was reasonably sure the rest of the team and coaches had left for the day before slowly walking toward the arena proper, running over opening gambits in her head.

She was surprised when entering the arena to find the lights already dimmed. The place was empty save for the ready-to-retire janitor who was pushing his broom along the side of the court nearest the benches.

“Lo, Miss Dylan,” he said politely, doffing the baseball cap that covered his cotton-wool head.

“Hello, Jerome,” Dylan replied, distracted. She looked down at her watch, then back at the court, blinking dumbly. Even if Catherine had started the minute practice ended and hit all of her freethrows in a row on the first try, she still should have been in the arena.

But she wasn?t.

Dylan sighed.

“Sure is quiet without the little sprout out here keepin? me company,” Jerome commented, almost to himself, as he continued working his push broom.

Dylan turned to him slowly, eyebrow elevated. “?Little sprout??”

Jerome?s dark skin darkened further. He broke out into a somewhat bashful smile. “Miss Cat, Ma?am. She was always out here after practice, makin? her shots. Sweet lady she is, always askin? after me and my family and tellin? silly stories.” The janitor shook his head. “Nice lady. Real nice lady.”

“How long has it been since you saw her last?” Dylan asked, trying to sound casual when she was anything but.

Doffing his cap, Jerome scratched the back of his head. “Since her accident.” His seamed face hardened into a scowl. “Beggin? your pardon, Miss Dylan, but I hope them that hurt her burn. I do indeed.”

Dylan nodded, agreeing with the man, even as her mind whirled with the implications of this new information. “Thank you, Jerome. You might have just given me the answers I was looking for.”

The smile the janitor gave took two decades off his age. “I did? Well, I?m glad to help, Miss Dylan. Always glad to help.”

“Are you sure you?re okay?”

“Sure I am!” Cat pulled away from Shaniqua?s helpful hold, almost dropping the keys in her hand. “Damnit! They went and changed the locks on me! I?ll kill em!”

“You have to put the key in right side up, shortchange.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks!” Flipping the key, Cat inserted it into the lock and grinned when it twisted, allowing the door to open. “Cool! You wanna come in? I got a new bottle of SoCo with your name on it.”

“No, man. We got early practice tomorrow. Did you forget already?”

Cat?s motions were exaggerated as she turned to face her teammate. “Forget? Me?”

Chaney laughed. “Yeah, shortchange. You.”

Cat scowled. “No, I didn?t forget. I?m just not ready to go to sleep yet.”

“Better you than me, girl. I?m beat. You sure you?re gonna be alright?”

“Just fine and dandy! You g?wan home and go to sleep, party pooper. Colonel SoCo and I will do just fine alone.”

Chaney laughed again, slapping Hodge on the shoulder. “You?re alright for a white girl, shortchange.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“See you tomorrow. Don?t come in hung over or Fraulein Caulley will whip your ass.”

Cat giggled at the mental image. “I won?t be hung over. See ya tomorrow, Shan.”

“Later, shortchange.”

Feeling a bit more sober, Cat carefully locked the door, threw the deadbolt, and switched on the new alarm system she had had installed the week before. “Takes care of that,” she announced, walking into the apartment and turning on all the lights as she went. The kitchen was her last stop, and she picked up the unopened bottle of Southern Comfort from the counter top and cracked the seal.

Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, she walked over to the couch, flipped on the television, and poured herself a healthy shot. She took a generous sip, then almost choked the sweet whiskey out her nose when there was a sudden knock on her door.

Grinning, she jumped to her feet, glass still in hand. “Shan, you dog! I knew you weren?t ready to stop yet! Hang on a second and let me get the?ouch Stupid thing?door open.”

In quick succession, the alarm was switched off, and deadbolt released, and the lock opened. Throwing open the door, Cat greeted her late night visitor with a beaming grin.

Which quickly faded upon the realization that not only wasn?t Shaniqua Chaney standing outside, Dylan Lambert was.

“Oh. Um?Hi, Coach!” The grin returned, glaring in its insincerity.

“Catherine.”

The false smile left as quickly as the real one did. “Is?something wrong?”

“Nope. Just checking to see how you?re doing.”

Cat?s eyes narrowed. “And that requires a house call?”

Dylan gave a casual shrug. “Sometimes.”

Cat sighed. “Well?if you went through all the trouble of coming out here to check up on me, the least I can do is let you in.” Stepping back, she gestured Dylan inside with a tilt of her head.

Dylan followed, taking careful note of the apartment?s interior. It seemed a different place from the one she had left the morning after Cat?s assault. Though hardly slovenly, the normally immaculate living space was cluttered with newspapers, books, old clothes, and beer bottles. The beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows were all covered over by heavy black draperies pulled tight enough not to let even the faintest sliver of light through. The windows on the top floor showed a similar treatment. And Dylan knew without looking closely that the alarm system was both new and top-of-the-line.

Feeling eyes upon her, Dylan turned her attention to the couch where Cat was sitting. The younger woman was sipping from her glass, and the gaze she leveled at Dylan was equal parts curiosity and challenge.

“So?is there anything I can help you with?” Cat asked in a deceptively mild voice.

“Like I said,” Dylan replied, “I?m just checking to make sure everything?s okay with you.” Her gaze darted around the room, once again noting the changes.

Cat felt her jaw clench at the cataloguing. She knew exactly what Dylan was doing; what she was thinking, and it made her guts burn. Maybe it was the alcohol lubricating her emotions, but she didn?t feel inclined to halt her words. “Begging your pardon, Coach, but I already have a mother. I don?t need another one.”

Dylan?s eyes widened for a second, then she tipped her head. Touch�. She cleared her throat. “I tried to see you after practice today, but you?d already left.”

Cat?s face colored slightly, and she looked down at the drink in her hand. A drink she no longer wanted. “It?s?just a stupid superstition anyway. I?m making my foul shots just fine in the games.”

Dylan nodded, even though she didn?t believe a word of the excuse. “True.”

“Well, is it something else? Am I not doing my job in some way? Screwing up in practice? Screwing up in the games?”

“No, no. It?s none of that. You?ve been exemplary. In practice and during the games.”

At any other time, Cat might have glowed in pleasure over the compliments. Now, however, wasn?t one of those times. Her anger continued to grow. The sane, sober part of her knew that Dylan was reaching out, trying to help. The irrational side of her slapped those thoughts away. “Then I?ll ask you again. Why are you here? You?re my coach. You have say over what goes on in my professional life. But this, here, where we are now, is my personal life. And unless there?s a problem that you?re not telling me, I don?t see that what I do in my personal life is anyone?s business but my own.”

Dylan was quiet for a moment, absorbing the words thrust at her. Then she nodded. “You?re right. Your professional conduct has been above board and without complaint.” She nodded again. “I?m sorry for having disturbed you. I?ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

With that, Dylan turned, all the while cursing herself for seven kinds of fool.

“Coach?”

Reaching the door, Dylan grasped the knob, but the tone of the soft call stopped any further action. She turned her head and was met with a look of such pride and such pain that her chest tightened against it. Her hand slipped from the knob as she gathered her thoughts, determined to make one more try.

“Catherine.” She began slowly, softly. “Cat?it?s okay to be afraid.”

Cat laughed. It sounded more like a sob, but her eyes were dry.

“It?s okay to hurt.”

Cat laughed again, rubbing at her face. “How would you know?” she spat. “How would you know what it?s like to be so angry all the time you feel like you?re going to explode? How would you know what it?s like to go to sleep afraid, and to wake up the same way?” She shook her head. “I mean, look at you! You?re an Amazon, for god?s sake! How would you even begin to know what I feel?”

Dylan took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. An extremely private woman, she knew she had a difficult choice. To say nothing, and let this escalate, or to share a bit of herself and take the chance that maybe it would help.

The decision was easier than she thought. Turning fully, she retraced her steps back into the apartment, stopping when she came level with the couch. “I?m not invincible, Catherine.”

Cat snorted. “No?”

“No. I know what it?s like to have anger eating away at me, and I know what it?s like to be afraid.”

“How? How do you know?”

“May I?” Dylan asked, gesturing to the couch.

“Oh. Sure.” Scooting over to one end, Cat made room for Dylan to sit.

“Thanks.”

A long silence fell between them.

“So?” Cat asked after clearing her throat. “How do you know?”

Dylan loosely clasped her hands, and stared down into them, as if divining the secrets of life from the lines in her palm. She kept her gaze focused there as she began to speak. “I was sixteen and had just graduated High School. I?d been given a full athletic scholarship to UCLA and I thought I was the baddest thing on two legs.”

Cat responded with a genuine laugh at that. She hadn?t been too different upon her own graduation.

“I shouldn?t have been walking out alone so late at night, but I wasn?t thinking about that at the time.” Dylan laughed bitterly. “I wasn?t thinking at all, really.”

“What happened?” Cat was sitting forward now, elbows on her knees, drink forgotten.

“There were six of them. Big pot-bellied redneck assholes out in sunny California to do god knows what. They decided that a gang bang was the best way to end a night of boozing, and they picked me as the bangee.”

“Oh no?” Cat whispered.

“I hadn?t finished growing yet. I was tall, but still pretty skinny.” She clenched her hands tighter, watching as the skin turned white from the pressure. “I fought like hell, but together, they were a lot stronger than I was, and it wasn?t long before they?d beaten me down to the sidewalk. If I let myself remember, I can still feel their hands on me, ripping at my clothes as I tried to fight them off. Even after they?d blackened my eyes and broken my jaw to shut me up, I didn?t stop fighting.”

If Dylan would have looked up at that moment, she would have seen large tears rolling silently down Cat?s cheeks. She didn?t, however, as she continued to stare down into her hands, clenched to tight fists now. “I couldn?t?.” She shook her head. “Anyway, before they got much further, I suddenly felt their weight lifted off of me. When I looked up, I saw these?kids?not any older than me. They were wearing gang colors and had guns, every single one of them. And they were beating the crap out of my intended rapists.”

“Jesus!” Cat swore.

“Yeah. I thought, for a moment there, that I was just trading one set of attackers for another, but then a couple of the guys helped me up and held me steady as I puked my guts up all over the sidewalk. Another one gave me his shirt, if you can believe that. Mine was ripped to shreds. They even offered to drive me home, but I?I needed to be alone right then.”

Dylan sighed, winding down like a toy soldier on Christmas morning. She seemed deflated somehow, as if she was still that girl she?d stopped being so many years ago.

Then, into her field of vision came a hand, small and almost delicate. It laid itself atop her fists like a blanket, or a balm. It soothed something in her soul she wasn?t aware was still so raw, and for the first time in years, she felt tears well up.

“I?m so sorry that happened to you,” Cat whispered.

Dylan gave a twisted smile, but didn?t raise her eyes. “Yeah, well? . I told myself I could deal with it. No big deal, right?” She laughed again. Bitterly. “So I buried it deep down inside and covered it with a layer of cement and built walls around it so that it would never see the light of day. When my coach asked me what had happened, I lied and told her that I?d fallen down a set of stairs in the dorm. I don?t think she ever bought that excuse.”

She took in a deep breath. “Then I started drinking. Not much at first. Just enough to stop the nightmares. But then the nightmares started happening during the day, so I started drinking then, too. I had periods of rage so intense that I?d lash out at anyone and anything. At first, I?d use those periods to my advantage during the games. No one could beat me there. No one. But then I started taking my anger out on my teammates and my coaches.” The twisted smile came again. “It got so bad that I got benched. My coach told me that she didn?t care if we lost every single game the rest of the season. If I didn?t get the stick out of my ass, that ass was going to be riding the bench until I was old and gray.”

“What did you do?”

“I thought about quitting, of course. After all, I was Dylan Lambert, the Goddess! Who was she to tell me I couldn?t play!”

“But you didn?t.”

“No. I didn?t. I realized that I needed some help. Needed someone to turn to who would understand what I had been through, what I was still going through. It turned out to be one of the assistant coaches, who?d been through something similar. And when I finally let out all the anger and the hatred and the fear that had been eating me up for months, god?I felt like the world had been lifted off my guts and I could breath again. I felt?free. Clean. I reclaimed my strength. My true strength, not a strength born of rage. And I never looked back.”

A silence as deep as the bottom of a grave slipped between them, and after a long moment, Dylan chanced to look up. What she saw made her chest tighten again.

Large, silent tears rolled one after the other down Cat?s cheeks. Her expression was that of a lost child desperately looking for a way home.

Quite without her conscious permission, Dylan found herself moving forward and grasping the smaller woman in a gentle embrace. An embrace which Cat accepted willingly, clutching Dylan?s shirt in an iron grip.

“It?s alright,” Dylan soothed, rubbing Cat?s back. “Let it out. I?m here. It?s okay. I won?t let go.”

Several days later, after practice, Cat stood wiping her face with a towel when she felt a presence next to her. Drawing the towel away, she looked up, smiling, into the face of her coach. “What?s up?” she asked, relaxed and happy for the first time in weeks. The impromptu meeting with Dylan had done her more good than even she was willing, or able, to admit.

Dylan returned the smile, blue eyes sparkling in the harsh lighting of the arena.

God you?re beautiful.

It wasn?t the first time that particular thought ran through Cat?s head. In fact, it was becoming more repetitive as the days and weeks passed.

I think this is going beyond the ?I have a crush on my coach? stage, Cat. Better rein it in, girl. You are so not ready for that.

So deep in her own thoughts was she that she almost missed the next words out of Dylan?s mouth.

“If you?re not doing anything after practice, would you like to go for a drive with me? I have something that I?d like you to see.”

In her current state, Cat could have easily mistaken Dylan?s question for a proposition?heck, her body was responding already. Pleasantly, at that. But one look in those clear, magnificent eyes told her it was friendship, not intimacy, that was to be on the agenda for the afternoon.

Her hormones got a kick in the shins as she screwed on her best smile. “Sure! What did you have in mind?”

“It?ll explain itself when you see it.”

“Hmm. Going all mysterious on me, are you?”

Dylan?s smirk was her only answer.

“Wow,” Cat groaned as she sunk into the padded leather luxury of Dylan?s 427SC Cobra. “Maybe I?ll skip playing altogether and move right into coaching, if this is how the other half lives.”

“The ?other half? got this while she was still playing,” Dylan remarked, eyes shifting rapidly from her rearview mirror to the windshield and back again as she maneuvered the sports car into thick, rush hour traffic.

“Oh. Guess that means I?ve gotta stick around a few more years, then, huh?”

Dylan smiled slightly. “That would be best, yes.”

The two settled quickly into a comfortable silence; a silence broken only by the wind as it rushed through their hair, whipping it back in flying streamers of black and gold. Soon, rush hour traffic was a thing of the past as Dylan took an exit off the main freeway and headed north. City congestion dwindled into rural complacency, and greenery began to make a reappearance. Further on, ranches, farmlands, and large estates dotted the landscape here and there; the dark, straight ribbon of highway cutting through like a plumb line.

Cat took in several deep breaths of clean, country air and grinned. A city girl by nature, she?d always loved trips into the country, especially when she was young. Her father would get it into his head that the family “needed air”, and off they?d go, half in the old VW bus they named “Stinky”, and the other half in the wood-paneled station wagon.

God, Cat thought, we were the Brady Bunch come to life!

Shuddering at the thought, she pushed it down and away, instead concentrating on the beautiful scenery passing quickly by.

At last, after almost an hour of travel, Dylan pulled into a long driveway and came to a stop in front of a large ranch house. When Dylan shut the engine off, Cat could hear the barking of dogs and the whinnying of horses. Bemused, she levered herself out of the car and watched as the front door opened and a tall, handsome woman appeared. In her early forties, she wore her long, blonde hair tightly braided. Her eyes, a deep amber, were very intelligent, and her smile was radiant as she spied Dylan unfolding herself from the car.

The two women met midway between the house and the car, and embraced tightly. Watching the reunion from her place by the car, Cat felt a spark of something she refused to identify as jealousy move through her. She shook the feeling off and approached the duo as they broke apart, turning their smiles on her.

“Catherine, I?d like you to meet Tamara, an old friend. Tam, this is Cat.”

The two exchanged warm handshakes. “C?mon then,” Tam said, gesturing with her chin. “Let?s go see what you came for.”

As the tall blonde strode away, Cat was left to look up at Dylan. “Coach?”

“Mm?”

“What did we come for?”

Dylan smirked. “You?ll see.”

The pair walked down a winding brick path that rounded the corner of the large house. A huge, fenced corral became immediately visible, as did several striking horses who frolicked and danced in the warm sun. Tam opened a small gate and a group of large, sleek, black dogs came bolting out, barking wildly.

Cat stiffened in fear, instantly transported back to age seven, when she had been walking home from school and a German Shepherd had chased her down the block, snapping and slathering. She?d been scared to walk home for a week after that incident. It had taken twice that long for the nightmares to go away.

“Shit,” she managed to get out of a suddenly closed throat, before noticing that the dogs weren?t headed for her, but for Dylan, who stood directly in their path. An instinctive reaction broke through her temporary paralysis and she jumped forward, pushing Dylan just as the dogs collided with the tall woman.

The entire group went down in a jumbled heap. Intuitively, Cat brought her arms up around her head, waiting for the sharp white teeth to puncture and rend and tear at her flesh and bone. She could hear Dylan groan and feel her body shake.

No! she silently screamed, trying her hardest to push up from the pile. But Dylan?s body was too heavy, especially with the dogs on top of it. She might as well have been trying to move a mountain.

As she took a deep breath to try again, she was stilled by sounds of?.laughter?

What the?.?

Suddenly, as if a cork had been released from a bottle, the pressure eased and Cat was able to roll away. As she sat up, muscles tense, she realized that she really had heard what she thought she did. Dylan was laughing!

And the dogs, far from attacking her coach, were fighting to lick each and every inch of skin they could find; and on Dylan, that was a lot of skin.

“Anschlag!”

The dogs, six in all, immediately dropped to their bellies, looking guilty as only scolded puppies can. Tamara strode toward them, biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. Dylan, under no such pretense, was still laughing as she rose to her feet and reached down to haul Cat up as well. She easily caught the towel Tam tossed her way and set to wiping off a gallon of dog drool that covered her face, arms, and hands.

The pack looked on.

Cat looked bewildered.

Dylan rolled her eyes and tossed the towel back to Tam. Then she turned to Cat. “I?d like you to meet Frigga, Odin, Thor, Beowulf, Syn, and Hamlet.”

Cat turned her bemused look from Dylan, to the dogs, to Tamara, and back again.

The dogs whined.

Tamara laughed.

Dylan sighed. “I have two Dobies of my own at home, Brunhilde and Siegfried. They?re brother and sister. Siegfried got snipped, and this is Brunhilde?s first, and only, litter. Tamara trains guard dogs, and that?s what this motley group is supposed to be.”

“Oh, they are, never fear,” Tam replied, smirking. “They just know better than to attack the big chief.”

“They?re beautiful,” Cat said once she found her voice.

And they were. Sleek, shiny and well muscled, each black and tan dog was a model of its breed. Their eyes were intelligent and lively, and their teeth, Cat noticed, were wickedly long, white and sharp.

“Yes, they are,” Dylan agreed. “The sire is over there.”

Cat looked in the direction of Dylan?s pointing finger, easily spying a huge black Doberman sitting just inside the fence, eyeing the scene with proprietary interest.

“I?d like you to have one.”

The bewildered look reappeared on Cat?s face. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I know your complex allows pets, and you look like a dog lover.”

“Oh, I am, but?.”

“They?re well trained,” Tamara interjected, walking over to the group. “Except when Dylan?s around.”

Dylan snorted.

“Completely housebroken,” Tam continued, shooting Dylan a look, “very devoted, and extremely protective of their master.”

“It?s nice to have someone around to talk to who won?t argue with you. And?.” Dylan paused, looking directly at Cat, “they can help make nightmares go away.”

Understanding dawned, and Cat felt a warmth steal into her. She smiled. “They can, huh?”

Dylan returned the smile, her eyes warm and affectionate. “Guaranteed.”

Cat took a long look at the dogs again, smiling at their inquisitive expressions. “I bet raising and training these beauties costs a lot of money,” she said as casually as she could. “How much would one of them go for?”

Tamara grinned. “Oh, usually about twelve to fifteen hundred.”

“Dollars?!” Cat half-choked.

Tam?s grin broadened. “That?d be it, yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “However, as trainer and owner of the sire, I?m authorized to give you a very?deeply discounted?price.”

“How deep.”

“How?s ?free? sound?”

Dylan chuckled at Cat?s speechlessness. “I didn?t bring you up here to sell you a dog, Cat. I brought you up here to give you one.”

“But?I couldn?t?.”

“Sure you can. Just say ?yes?. Unless you?re not a dog person.”

“I am, but?.”

“Or just don?t want one.”

“I do, but?.”

“Good. It?s a deal, then. Pick your poison.”

“You?re serious, aren?t you.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Wow.” She looked over the dogs, then back at Dylan. “You?re sure?”

Dylan grinned. “I?m sure.”

“Ok. So?how does one go about picking their poison?” Cat grinned, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, my dad always picked out our dogs from the pound. With ten kids all shouting different preferences to him, he always decided to just go it alone. I couldn?t tell a good dog from a bad one if you paid me.”

“Ah, but that?s where you?re lucky,” Tamara replied. “I can tell, and these are all ?good ones?. And I?m not just saying that because my male is their sire. I?ve had them since birth, and I?ll guarantee that there?s not a bad one in the bunch.”

“So how do I choose?”

“Hut.” At the soft command, the dogs rose to their haunches in unison. At a nod from Tamara, they stood and walked over to Cat, greeting her with wagging tails and playful nudges.

Cat laughed and pet the mass of fur wiggling around her until she heard a soft growl. She pulled her hand away quickly, and straightened, looking over at Dylan.

Tamara laughed. “Well, well, well, that makes it easier, doesn?t it.”

Cat turned her questioning gaze to Tam.

“Looks like instead of choosing, you got chosen.” Following Tam?s gaze, Cat noticed one dog sitting proudly at her side. The rest of the pack had moved off in response to the growl. “Cat, meet Hamlet. He?s decided you?re going to be his human and it doesn?t look like he?s going to take ?no? for an answer.”

As Cat looked down into the golden brown eyes of her new dog, she instantly fell head over heels in love. “Hello, Hamlet,” she said softly, scratching him behind the ears. Hamlet gave a soft “wuf!” and licked her hand. “It?s nice to meet you too,” she replied, laughing.

Cat walked into the pet store, not really knowing what she wanted for her new best buddy, but knowing that it had to be something special. She had already loaded him up on the ?right? food and treats. And since he was sleeping at the foot of her bed, she wasn?t particularly concerned with finding him a bed. She liked him right were he was.

“Toys.” She nodded and headed down the isle. “That?s what my boy needs, toys.” She didn?t like the way he had been eyeing her sneakers. Even though he was older and a fully trained guard dog, he still got that mischievous puppy glint in his eyes, especially when she rubbed his belly at night when they watched TV.

She was looking at a large rawhide bone when a very familiar voice got her attention. “Don?t buy him rawhide.”

She looked up to find the coach standing on the other side of the isle. “No?”

“No.” Dylan shook her head. “It?s bad for them.” The woman walked around and handed Cat a large black object looked like a cross between hard rubber snowman and something vaguely obscene. “It?s called a Kong. It?s nearly indestructible against those teeth.”

Cat smiled and took the toy. “Ugly thing.”

“No uglier than the shredded remains of your lucky playing shoes.”

“Mm. You?ve got a point there.” She tossed the toy in her basket. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. I was getting food for my beasts and saw your truck in the lot. Nice one, by the way.”

Cat grinned. “Thanks. It?s the first new car I?ve owned. Of course, it?s nothing like yours, but?”

“You?ll get there.”

“Someday.” She looked down to her shoes as a blush crept up her cheeks. “Thanks by the way.”

“For?”

“Everything. The talk. Taking me to get Hamlet. Being my friend.”

Dylan sighed and handed her yet another toy for what she knew was going to be a rambunctious Doberman. “It?s easy being your friend Cat. I hate it that you got hurt, the least I can do it try to help a little.”

“You?ve helped a lot.”

“I?m glad to hear it.”

“Hey,” Cat fingered the toys in her hands. “Can I buy you lunch?”

“Do you promise not to eat something that looks like it?s going to crawl off the plate?”

The blonde chuckled. “I promise. No rare steaks.”

“Thank you.”

Sitting across from each other, Cat?s thoughts were in a whirl, and spent the first twenty minutes at the table running her finger over the rim of the glass. Dylan sipped her tea and finally broke the silence.

“Are the bad dreams easing up?”

Yeah,” she nodded. “I still have them but I wake myself up before it gets too bad.” She smiled. “And Hamlet?s a big help. Just knowing he?s there?well?it helps a lot.”

“Told ya.”

“Yeah, you did.” She took in a breath and blew it out slowly. “So, have you been having problems with the head office over this?”

“Nothing I can?t handle Cat. Don?t worry about it. Mac and I have it under total control.”

“If there is anything I can do, let me know.”

“You just keep on your game and I?m happy.”

“I?m doing my best.”

“I know.” Dylan picked at her salad and finally sighed. “Look. Johnson is a bigoted, small minded son of a bitch, it?s true. But he?s also a slave to the almighty dollar. As long as we keep pulling money in, he?ll back off.” Her tone softened. “I just don?t want to see you get hurt again.”

Cat smiled. “Thanks, Coach.”

Dylan looked vaguely embarrassed, and she took a moment to sip her tea. “Have you always been ?out??”

Cat blinked at the unexpected question. “Um?yeah. Pretty much. I mean I always knew, there was just something different. It took me years to figure it out, but once I did there was no hiding.”

“And your folks have always been supportive?”

“Well my Dad was a little wigged at first, but he came around pretty quickly. My mom gave me the, ?it?s not what I would choose for you, but if you?re happy? lecture and we just went from there. My oldest brother told me I wasn?t allowed to scope out his girl friends.”

Dylan nearly choked on her tea at the mental picture that went through her mind. She grabbed her napkin, managing to keep it in and swallow, with some effort. “That?s priceless.”

“That?s my brother.” Cat sighed. “I?ve had small run ins with a few small minded people before, but nothing like this. For me it?s just never been an issue. I didn?t make it an issue, so it wasn?t. Any particular reason why you asked?”

Dylan shrugged. “Just curious, I guess. If I stepped over the line, I apologize.”

“Hey.,” Cat reached over and patted Dylan?s hand. “It?s okay, you didn?t pry. It?s always better to ask rather than carrying around a lot of misconceived notions.”

“Oh I don?t think you have to worry about that. I?m pretty worldly you know. Been around the block a few times,” Dylan teased, smirking.

Cat returned the smirk. “I?m sure you have.”

The two locked glances for a long moment, and the air between them grew almost palpable. Cat finally cleared her throat and took a sip of water. “So?.my turn. Answer a question?”

“Sure. Turn about is fair play.”

Caught out, Cat asked the first question that came into her mind. “Why are you alone?”

Oh, dear god, I can?t believe I said that!!!

Dylan?s eyebrow crawled slowly up her forehead and stayed there. “What makes you think I?m alone?”

Oh well, in for a penny? “Well, Hunter just doesn?t seem to be your type.”

“And why not? He?s a good guy.”

Because he?s a good guy, you stinker. “I?m sure he is. But he?s so, so?”

“Tall?” Dylan smirked.

“Yeah, tall. Come on.”

“Tan?”

Cat just bit her lip and shook her head. “Now you?re just being mean. He?s just not your type.”

Dylan licked her lips and smiled. “And what, exactly, is my ?type??”

Aww shit. Hoist by my own petard. Par for the course around her, actually. “Um?not him?”

Dylan laughed, deciding to let her young friend off the hook. “He?s not really, and to answer your first question, I guess I don?t really see myself as being ?alone?. I mean, I have my team, and my work. It takes up a great deal of my time and energy. I?m not really social by nature so?.” She shrugged. “It works out for the best.” Then she smiled. “Besides, I haven?t found anyone who can put up with me yet.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“I?m hard to live with. I have a certain way I like everything.”

“You fold your socks don?t you?” Cat teased and leaned forward. “Go on, you can admit it. You?re a sock folder.”

“I also squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube.”

“Oh you?re one of those.” She giggled when Dylan nodded.

“Guilty.” The coach looked up from her glass. “I guess I just haven?t found the right,” she paused and decided that it wasn?t worth hiding from Cat anymore. The young woman had been totally honest with her she owed her the same. “Woman.”

Cat nearly choked on the ice she had started crunching. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I didn?t expect you to say that.”

“I didn?t expect to say that either, but, well I think I can trust you.”

“You can.”

“I know.”

The silence fell between them again; the pregnant kind that you could slice with a knife.

They are so blue. It?s a pool I think I could dive into and never want to leave.

The waitress approached and slid Cat?s dessert, a thick slice of warm apple pie with a large scoop of slowly melting vanilla perched atop it, in front of the young woman, breaking the moment.

Cat took a large bite and moaned with gastronomic ecstasy.

Dylan swallowed hard through a bone dry throat. Then quaffed her entire glass of tea in one gulp. She thought about rolling the glass over her suddenly hot forehead, but decided against it.

“So, tell me,” Cat continued casually, “who is the perfect woman? For you, I mean.”

She?s doing this on purpose. I know she is.

Dylan thought it over for a moment. “I guess she?d have to be able to keep up with me. Find my job as exciting as I do, but be able to have her own life so when I?m on the road I don?t feel like I?m being neglectful.”

“How about a woman who would like to travel with you?”

“That could be nice.” Dylan?s head wobbled a bit, as she seemed to be considering it. “Tricky, but fun.”

“Nah,” Cat waved her hand at the coach. “Just give her a job with the team. Chief Towel Girl or something.”

“Towel Woman.”

“Right.”

Dylan sobered a bit. “I guess I?d just have to find someone who enjoys life as much as I do. I?m a fairly quiet person, but I enjoy the finer things and I?d like someone who could share that with me.”

“So,” Cat leaned in again, “do you like to curl up in front of a fire with a good book or an old movie and listen to the rain on the roof?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Me too.” Cat?s watch beeped, and she looked down. “Damn.”

“What?s the matter?”

“Oh, it?s nothing, really. It?s my Mom?s birthday and I promised I?d call her before my dad takes her away for the weekend.” She sighed. “I don?t think I?ll be able to get home in enough time.”

“No worries,” Dylan replied, retrieving her phone from her belt. “Use mine.”

“Thanks!”

Cat closed and locked the door of her apartment behind her, as it had become her routine since the attack. Before she could open her mouth, Hamlet came bounding into the room and pranced at her feet waiting to be acknowledged. Cat dropped to her knees and gave him a hug and a good scratch behind the ears. “How?s my new baby?”

She was rewarded with a long wet dog kiss, which tickled her nose and caused her to fall back on the floor. This was an open invitation to Hamlet to play with his new mistress and they soon were involved in a wrestling match. Cat paused when the phone rang, but she decided to let the machine get it and she continued playing with the dog.

“Cat? Are you home?”

She stopped again when Dylan?s voice came across the room. She started to get up but decided against it when Hamlet threw himself unceremoniously into her lap and flopped over to get his stomach scratched.

“Ok, well I seem to have left my cellphone with you, so if you could bring it to practice tomorrow that?d be great. Oh, and thank you for buying me lunch. You really didn?t have to do that, but it was very nice of you.”

Cat smiled. Hamlet seemed to kind of purr.

“So, um, well?thanks. And I?ll see you tomorrow at practice. Get some rest.” There was a long pause and she added, “If you need anything you have my number.”

“Unless you?ll come over and give me a long massage, I?m not calling.” She looked down at her dog. “God I?m losing it.”

“Bye.”

There was a click and then Dylan?s vocal presence was gone and Cat missed it.

“Yup, I?m losing it.”

She gave the dog one last scratch and then gave him the toy she had bought. Then she went for a shower, a cold shower. Dylan Lambert was really starting to have some effects that she wished she had some better control over.

Such as the smile that was threatening to become permanently etched on her face.

The fans let out yet another long groan when the ball failed to go in. For whatever reason, the Badgers where playing ball like a freshman high school team; their passing game was off, their shooting game was horrible and their defense seemed to be non-existent. It was as if they were playing under water.

On the other hand, the Pistols were hot with a capital H and they were making the Badgers work and sweat. Within the first ten minutes of the first period they led by ten points and showed no signs of letting up.

The Pistols hailed from the mean streets of Camden, and their lineup looked like it had come fresh from the pages of the now defunct XFL. Full of cast-offs and rejects, what they lacked in talent, they more than made up for in intimidation. They were a roller derby team gone mad, and they thrived on the image that had taken them all the way to the second round of the playoffs last year.

To make matters worse, the referees seemed to be living in the Pistols? back pocket. Either that, or they were affected with a sort of selective blindness. Half of the players on the Badgers were sporting some injury or other from vicious blocks and charges, and the Refs hadn?t seen a thing. Or if they had, the Badgers were called for the foul. Barely through the first quarter, the first Badger had already fouled out, and several others were on their third.

One look at Dylan and Hodge knew they were in for it during the half. The coach was not amused, and she spent half her time pacing back and forth, and the other half with her arms crossed over her chest, shooting dirty looks onto the court. Cat got caught in that laser-like glare and resolved not to look to the sideline for the rest of the half for fear of being incinerated on the spot.

She took the inbounds pass and dribbled it to half court. Things were looking good until she bounced passed the ball to where Coles was supposed to be. Instead, a hulking mass received the pass pretty as you please and rifled it off to her point guard. “Shit!” Cat yelled, backpedaling in an effort to keep up with the Pistols? point guard. It was a useless effort, and Cat flung her hands outward as the player she was guarding hit a three point shot with no effort at all.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the half. The Badgers hustled off the court to their locker room. Cat looked up into the crowd. It was clear they were disappointed by the fact that their team was now sixteen points behind, but she was relieved to see that they weren?t leaving en masse.

In the locker room, everyone took a seat on the long benches, wiping their necks and heads with towels as they waited for the appearance of their coach. Cat looked around, seeing the dismal expressions on the faces of her teammates. It was as if they were awaiting execution.

A moment later, Dylan strode in, her face an angry mask. “Somebody want to explain to me exactly what was going on out there? I thought I came to coach a basketball game, but obviously, I was mistaken”

Cat couldn?t even look at her coach. She figured it was in her best interest just to listen, because if she looked up and saw disappointment in Dylan?s face it would kill her.

“Did you guys not get enough rest last night? You?re playing like crap. You?re letting a second rate team beat you on your own turf. I know you guys are better than this. What?s the problem?”

No one was brave enough to answer so Dylan continued. “You?re playing like a high school team!” Her lancing gaze zeroed in on one particular player. “You decided to join the WWF, Chaney? Jesus! They?re not scoring enough points on their own, so you decided to give them a couple for free??”

“You saw that charge, Coach!” the guard responded, nursing her rapidly blackening left eye. “Hell, everyone in the stands saw it!”

“And that gave you the right to make like Mike Tyson and clean her clock?”

“Damn straight,” Chaney agreed. “Bitch had it coming.”

“So, you thought it was worth a Technical.”

“Well?”

“Good answer, Chaney. Did your self-promotion to team thug come with a decrease in IQ?”

“C?mon, Coach. The refs are killing us out there!”

The rest of the team muttered their assent.

“Oh, so that?s it, huh?” Dylan asked, continuing to pace. “The refs are playing favorites, and you?ve decided to just give up. Is that the way we?re playing it now?”

There was some muted grumbling, but no one had the guts to answer outright.

“Fine. Well then, hit the showers. I?ll go tell the refs that we?re forfeiting the game. Our fans don?t deserve the torture of a second half of this shit you call playing.” She stared at them all. “Well? Go on. Get changed.”

As she turned, Cat?s voice broke the silence. “Coach?.”

Dylan turned back, pinning Cat with her glare. “You have something to add, Catherine? You haven?t added much during the game.”

Cat flushed at the rebuke, but held her ground. “I know coach. I?ll be the first to admit that I?m not playing worth a damn. But?I?m not ready to give up yet. I think we can win. I know we can. I?m asking for another chance to prove ourselves.”

Dylan?s eyes narrowed in challenge. “And how do you intend to do that?”

Cat took in a deep breath as she thought about her answer. “Look. I know I?ve got the least amount of professional experience here, but I also know what it?s like to go up against a team of bruisers whose only skill is intimidation. I?ve been through my share of those games in high school and college. We probably all have.”

Most of the players nodded.

“I can?t speak for anyone but myself, but I know that I?m playing the way I am because I?m frustrated. And I also know that that is exactly what they want. It?s why they?re doing it. And I think that they think of us as some second rate loser team that they can just bowl over with their tactics and we?ll run home with our tails tucked between our legs.” Her eyes scanned the team, seeing grudging agreement in most of their faces. She smiled a little. “Face it, the Badgers haven?t always had the best reputation.” Her face became serious. “But we?re not those Badgers anymore. We?re a different team with a different attitude, and I?m going to try my best to play with that attitude for the rest of this game.”

An assortment of cheers came from the ranks.

“I think that we?ll all play better if we accept these two basic facts. The referees are blind, and our opponents are bullies. Accept those facts, deal with them, and move past them. If we stick to our own game plan and don?t let their tactics affect us, they?ll be the ones getting frustrated before long.”

Dylan looked on, keeping a smile of pride from creeping onto her face by determination alone. Before her eyes, Catherine was fully becoming the leader Dylan had known she would be. It was a wonderful sight.

When one of the timekeepers stuck her head in the room and told Dylan that it was time to return to the court, the coach stepped back and allowed a much more enthusiastic team stream past.

Only then did a smile fully bloom on her face.

Back on the court, Cat was pleased to see that most of the crowd had remained despite the team?s horrible effort, and she vowed right then and there if there was any way to pull this game out, she was going to do it for her team mates, her coaches and the fans.

She took the time to offer words of encouragement to other members of her team, and was pleased with the intent, confident looks she in turn received.

The second half began. It was blistering from the start. The Pistols started in with their old tactics of slash and burn, and the Badgers did their best to ignore them.

There was a new sense of purpose and determination in the Badgers, and it was manifesting itself rather quickly. With Cat firmly manning the helm, they managed to close the gap down to two points in the first seven minutes, though Coles, their best forward, picked up two quick fouls and had to sit out the rest of the game.

Anya, the Ukrainian walk on, took over. She was used to the more physical play from her days in the World Leagues, and she handled the attacks on her with grace and flair, quickly scoring a sweet three-pointer on a no-look pass from Cat that finally put the Badgers up by a point.

The crowd was on their feet when their team took the lead. The energy was crackling through the arena like small bolts of lightening and Cat could feel the hair on her arms stand on end.

The Pistols however, weren?t quite ready to give up. One of their forwards became free on a fast break, and with an uncontested lay-up, the lead was theirs once again.

As Cat charged back down the court, dribbling easily and flashing the play to her teammates, she easily avoided a hand that tried to clothesline her. A quick head duck, and a left-right juke, and she crossed over half court, waiting for the play to develop around her.

The defense was a simple man-to-man, and Chaney executed a perfect pick, allowing Cat to come free. Then the shooting guard took a step back off her defender, received Cat?s bullet pass, and sunk a shot from just inside the key. Pumping her fist in the air, she then swatted Cat a good one on the rump as they both ran down the court to take up their defensive positions.

Cat spared a quick glance at the play clock and, seeing four minutes proudly displayed, realized for the first time in her professional basketball career, that these were going to be the longest four minutes of her life.

She wasn?t wrong.

The Pistols took their time, slowing their game, and watching as the clock ticked down its final minutes. Try as they might, the Badgers couldn?t come up with a steal, and Cat watched in disgust as their defensive scheme broke down and an easy shot was scored.

The return charge didn?t make it to the basket, aborted by a steal. The Pistols? point guard dribbled the ball and headed back down court with the Badgers hot on her heels.

Two minutes on the clock and the crowd was nearly crazed at this point. Watching their team come back from what should have been a thrashing and then watching them work to get and keep the lead had the crowd constantly one their feet.

Cat watched as the shot was attempted and missed. The ball practically fell into her hands and the reverse was made. She headed back down court. Looking up, she saw a wall of Pistols running up on her, looking huge and hungry as they approached. Staring toward the basket, she realized she had only one option. Taking the shot, she waited as it seemed time slowed down. For her it was like a scene out of a bad sports movie. She could see, hear and feel the breath leaving her body as she willed the ball to go in.

“YES!” She took a split second to thank God or whatever Supreme Being watched out for basketball players, off after the opposition.

She knew with ten seconds left on the clock this was going to be the Pistols? last chance, and she was prepared for it. She did her job and made it impossible for their point guard to get a clean shot. She managed to hold her off for four full seconds until a pass was made to one of the forwards.

The shot went up, arcing into the air as if riding on the tails of a rainbow.

It got nearly deathly quiet in the arena, as every single eye followed the ball. Watching it approach the net, Cat heard the buzzer and prayed.

Those prayers were answered when the ball hit the rim and bounced back, striking the court and rolling harmlessly out of bounds. Her shout of victory was drowned out by the screaming of the frenzied crowd and the cheering of her teammates as they surrounded her in a happy jumble.

But the thing she noticed most was the wink and nod from the sidelines before Dylan’s attention was intercepted by the Pistols’ coach, coming to eat crow.

Sometimes, she thought, holding that small bit of praise tight to her soul, life can be good.

The celebration in the locker room turned into an impromptu party befitting the winning of a championship instead of simply triumphing in a game they had been expected to win. Still, the coaches allowed the frivolity, knowing there was a good deal of pent up energy needing to be expended, and further knowing that a release was better here than out in public where fights tended to get started.

It wasn?t until well after midnight when the group finally headed out of the locker room and through the now empty arena, ready for a well-earned night?s sleep. Cat stepped into the cool darkness of the night with Shaniqua on her left and Anya on her right. Above the sounds of their laughter, she heard a peculiar chirping noise that came up from the duffle slung over her shoulder. Unzipping the bag, she reached inside and came out with a tiny cellphone belonging to Dylan. And it was telling her that someone had called and left a message.

“Oohhh,” Chaney ribbed, making a fake grab for the phone. “Hot date tonight, Shortchange?”

“Very funny,” Cat replied, hastily hiding the phone behind her back. “It isn?t mine.”

Chaney?s eyes widened. “Ya don?t say? .” Her grin deepened into a leer. “Been holding out on us, tiny?”

Cat was thankful the darkness hid her blush as she realized that she had just opened a can of worms best left closed. “Um?listen?I gotta go back inside. There?s a message. You know?.”

“Privacy. Gotcha, Shortchange. You sure you?re gonna be alright walkin? out here by yourself?”

Cat had to smile. Ever since the attack, her teammates?and Shaniqua in particular?had taken it upon themselves to be her personal bodyguard cum escort. “Yeah, I?m sure. I?ll be fine. The coaches are still inside, so if I need to, I?ll walk out with them.”

“Alright, then. You have a good time with your?date.” A flash of white teeth, and Shaniqua was swallowed up by the darkness.

Shaking her head and laughing a little, Cat turned on her heel and jogged back into the building. She?d made it to the stands when Coach Caulley stepped out and grabbed her elbow. “Woah. Where?s the fire, Hodges?”

“Sorry Coach,” Cat replied, slightly winded. “I just?.is Coach Lambert around?”

Caulley?s eyes immediately narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I just need to talk to her for a minute. Do you know if she?s still here?”

“I think she went up to her office, but?.”

“Thanks!” With that, Cat took off running again. She ran through the locker room, out the back, and down the hall past the infirmary until she got to an old, less than reliable freight elevator. Jamming on the ancient button set it creakily on its way, and she drummed her fingers against the peeling paint as she waited.

“Come on! Jesus, what are the monkeys that lower the cables on strike for more bananas or something? God!”

Several minutes later, the doors slid open with a grudging sigh, and Cat stepped in, praying yet again that she wouldn?t get stuck in the damn thing.

She didn?t, and when the doors finally opened, she stepped out into another narrow hallway. Unlike the grand corporate offices, the offices in the arena were small, cramped, and dark. Cat walked down the hall humming idly to herself until she came to the door she knew was Dylan?s. It was closed, but she could see a sliver of light spilling through the bottom, so she knocked.

After the second knock, when there was no answer, she tried the door handle. It was unlocked, and with tentative force, she opened the door and stepped inside.

The office was stark, with a battered desk, computer, and chair, and very little else. It was also empty.

There was another door directly opposite her, and Cat saw light from beneath that one as well. She cleared her throat. “Um?Coach? Coach Lambert? It?s Cat. I?ve brought you back your?.”

Before Cat could finish, the second door opened, and Dylan strode out, wet from the shower she?d just taken, and completely naked save for the towel casually wrapped around her lean hips.

“?.phone?” Cat squeaked as every muscle in her body locked. Except for her heart, which seemed to beat double time. A sudden influx of hormones caused a full, head-to-toe flush to break across her body, and although her brain was sending urgent messages to her eyes, they were?thank you very much?quite content to remain where they were; on Dylan?s magnificent breasts.

Dear God, get a grip! Her brain shouted, trying to urge locked muscles into action. You?ve seen naked women before! Hell, you even showered with a whole group of them not more than a half hour ago!

Yeah, but none of those were Dylan Lambert.

The rest of her body happily agreed with this statement; her eyes most of all as they finally allowed slight movement and traced the tight, banded muscles of Dylan?s belly, then swept up and across impossibly broad shoulders and along a wonderful neck, before coming back down to their favorite targets and remaining there.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for this sinner now and?.oh man?just now, please.

In reality, this entire internal dialogue had taken up less than two seconds, but to Cat, it seemed like an eternity. A very blissful eternity, but an eternity nonetheless.

Dylan didn?t appear to notice the rapt perusal as she smiled a greeting to Cat while walking over to the desk upon which her clothes were stacked.

“I don?t know whether I should thank you or curse you for bringing that back,” Dylan remarked as she picked up a black T that sat on top of the stack. “I haven?t missed the damn thing all weekend.”

The towel dropped away and Cat?s brain turned into hissing white static as the most beautiful posterior she?d ever seen in her life came fully into view.

“You?re awfully quiet this evening,” Dylan remarked, glancing quickly over her shoulder before shaking out her jeans. “Something wrong?”

The words, finally loosed, came in a rush. “Who me? No, nothing?s wrong. Not at all, no. Just came by to drop of your phone. Thanks, by the way.”

Dylan, now fully clothed save for her bare feet, turned and gave Cat a curious look. “For?”

Cat gave an embarrassed laugh. “For, you know, letting me use your phone. I was able to get to my mom before she left for the weekend. So?thanks.”

“You?re welcome,” Dylan replied, reaching for her socks and boots.

Cat found herself at a rare loss for words, but her body was telling her, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn?t about to leave the room just yet. She scratched the back of her neck, trying to order her thoughts. The task was, of course, impossible.

“So,” she finally got out. “Some game, huh?”

Dylan snorted. “Oh yeah. The Rolaids company called and asked me to be their CEO. Seems I made them more money tonight than the rest of the country put together.”

Cat winced. “Sorry.”

Dylan shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, well, I?d prefer it if we didn?t visit that territory too often, if it?s all the same to you.”

“I can live with that,” Dylan replied, chuckling. Now fully clad, Dylan retrieved the phone Cat had brought and stuffed it into her own duffel, which she then slung over her shoulder. “Everything else going okay with you?”

Cat smiled brightly. “Oh yeah, just fine.” And she meant it, too.

“Good.” Dylan yawned. “Well, I?m ready to hit the bed. How ?bout you?”

“Definitely! Bed sounds great!” She paused, then flushed again. “Mine, I mean. My bed. You know. Sleep?.bed?.” Her voice trailed off miserably as she gave herself a sharp internal kick.

Chuckling, Dylan laid a casual arm around Cat?s shoulders and steered her in the direction of the door. “C?mon, Shortchange. Time to go home.”

Two days later, after a thankful weekend break, the Badgers were back at it, practicing hard to ensure that there would be no more “Pistols problems” as they dubbed the last game. Each put in their best efforts, and when the practice was over, the coaches were well satisfied. Even Caulley, who wouldn?t be satisfied with a Championship trophy.

Disgusted by her forty percent foul shooting during the last game, Cat opted to resume her habitual drills after practice.

Unlike during the game, she sunk her foul shots with ease, so she moved back and tried threes from the perimeter. Those went in easily as well. Layups came next, and those were a bit harder because of her stature. She was always more comfortable shooting from the outside, but also knew that if the opportunity presented itself, she would need to be confident enough to drive to the hoop and take the shot, no matter who stood in her way.

Dylan walked silently into the empty arena, guided by the rhythmic thumping of a basketball. She leaned against the wall and watched for a couple of minutes before strolling further onto the court. Cat caught the ball and turned to face her coach

“Hi,” she gasped, breathing hard and blowing out long, slow breaths to calm her racing pulse.

“Hi yourself,” Dylan replied, gesturing toward the basket. “That was more than foul shooting. You were really working it.”

“Yeah, well I need to get stronger driving into the paint. I don?t do it often, but I can?t be wary when I do.”

“True.” Dylan scratched above her brow. “Your game is good.”

“Not good enough.”

“Well, we can always get better.” Smiling, she swatted the ball out of Cat?s hands and spun it on one finger. “Just don?t be too hard on yourself, ok?”

“Yeah,” Cat chuckled. “Like you?re not.”

“Hey! I?m the coach. It?s my job to be hard on myself.”

“Hmmph.” With a wicked grin, Cat reached out and grabbed the ball back. “Heh. How ?bout a game? The Goddess against the mortal? First to eleven wins? Huh?”

Dylan?s grin was even more wicked. “Sure ya wouldn?t rather play shirts vs. skins?”

Cat actually heard her jaw click as it dropped open and hung there. Normally, she wouldn?t have been so wide-eyed, but the unexpected flirtation, coupled with the vision of last night, conspired together to force the expression onto Cat?s face.

Chuckling, Dylan grabbed the ball from Cat?s stunned hands, turned, and arced the ball through the net. She spun on her player, eyes twinkling. “First rule of immortal combat. Create opportunities and take advantage of them.”

Cat gave a little grunt as the ball impacted lightly with her flat abdomen. She caught it reflexively and blinked. “You gonna flash me now?”

“Would it work?”

Cat?s look said it all, and Dylan laughed. “I?ll keep that in mind for later, then.” She tapped the ball in Cat?s hands. “C?mon. Let?s see what you got.”

What Cat had was a move that went exactly two steps into the paint before she was again summarily stripped of the ball and forced to calculate the angle of the curve made by Dylan?s body as she jammed the ball through the hoop.

“I hate you,” she groaned, receiving the ball back.

“Hey. You challenged me, remember?”

“Okay, then. I hate myself.”

Dylan laughed softly. “C?mon now. Two-zip. Your ball.”

Cat tried. She really did. She tried as hard as she?d ever tried anything in her life. She pulled out every move in the book, invented some on the spot, and none of them worked. Her offense was useless, and her defense was even worse. Of course, they both acknowledged the inherent disparity between a small point guard and a towering forward with the wingspan of a condor, but still, Cat was determined to prove something.

Whether it was to herself or Dylan, she wasn?t sure.

The more she failed, the more frustrated she became, and the more frustrated she got, the sloppier her game became.

Until she remembered her own words of two nights before. How frustration plays right into the hands of an opponent and is something to be avoided at all costs.

Remembering this, she tried to relax, deliberately slowing her movements and running the plays through her head instead of relying on brute force and instinct. She also realized a fundamental truth. No matter how poorly she was playing, even at her best, there was no woman in the world who could do better against Dylan Lambert. And the only thing she could possibly do, faced with this fantastic opportunity, was play on, knowing she would only get better.

So intent was she on this new revelation, she completely missed the knowing?and slightly proud?smile on Dylan?s face.

Still, Dylan couldn?t pass up an attempt to razz her player. “Timeclock?s ticking down, shorty. You gonna dribble that ball or are you taking it home for a souvenir?”

Shaken from her reverie, Cat looked up, and grinned at the mirthful eyes gazing at her. Then, taking a deep breath, she made a quick step to her left, watching Dylan?s feet as she followed. Faking another step, she then executed a perfect spin move, and, spying the backboard in the “V” between Dylan?s head and her outstretched arm, launched an off-balance shot that, miracle of miracles, hit the rim and bounced on through.

“Yes!” Cat huffed, finally scoring her first point.

“Very impressive.”

“Thanks!” Then she looked up at Dylan as the ball landed in her hands once again. “It?s your ball.”

“Don?t wanna win yet,” Dylan remarked, offhand.

Cat chuckled. “Cocky, aren?t ya.”

Dylan shrugged. “Confident.”

“Hm. Ok, I can go with that.”

She tried the same move again, only from the opposite side. As expected, Dylan didn?t fall for the bait. Instead she backed up some, giving Cat a bit more room to maneuver, but also knowing her greater quickness and longer stride could close the gap when needed.

Cat took her time, eyes switching between the basket and Dylan as she calculated angles and her best chance of scoring. Knowing that Dylan?s weaker (if it could truly be termed that) side was her right, because of her knee, Cat exploited it, making Dylan put constant pressure on the joint in order to move with her as she guarded. Then she crossed over, then crossed over again, and charged toward the basket, full steam ahead.

Dylan managed to slip into a perfect stance a second before Cat hit the mark. She also knew that Cat had no chance of stopping, and that, further, her knee was straining past the limits she felt comfortable with.

Taking in a breath, she allowed Cat to run into her, but instead of bracing herself and chancing the knee, she grabbed Cat around the waist and fell back, hitting the ground hard with her player landing full atop her, nearly driving the breath from her lungs. The basketball skittered by and rolled harmlessly over the endline.

The kiss started slowly, naturally, given the close proximity of their lips, and grew from there into something quickly more heated. The passion, and the challenge, of the game they?d just played transferred itself into another contest, of sorts, as their bodies melded together in the sweat of their labors, each advancing, and giving way, in turn.

Soft moans drifted through the empty arena as each woman lost herself and her will in the taste of the other, in her softness and her heat. What they shared was raw, urgent, flaring to life between them and within them, leaving no space for softness or for gentleness.

And when it finally ended, they pulled away, breathing heavily, and lay blinking at one another, unable to believe what they had just shared.

“I?um?.” Cat choked out, voice rough, cheeks flushed deep with passion.

“Yeah,” Dylan returned, not having the breath for anything else.

Cat stepped out of the shower in her apartment, still mumbling ?oh shit, oh shit, oh shit?. Hamlet lifted his head from the foot of the bed where he was currently camped out keeping a watchful eye over his mistress. She looked at him as she slipped in her robe and roughly tied the belt into a tight knot. “How could I be so stupid?”

Hamlet yawned and laid his head back down.

She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers tapping and twitching nervously on her knees. “I need to talk to someone. Mom? No, no, no, bad idea.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out slowly. When she opened them she reached for the phone be the bed. Biting her lip she slowly dialed a number she knew by heart and then put the receiver to her ear.

On the third ring a familiar and very friendly voice answered. “Hello?”

“Lee, it?s Cat.”

The voice on the other end was warm and sweet as honey. “Hiya darling. It?s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has, and I?m sorry about that.”

“It?s okay. I attribute it to the life of the newest star in the world of women?s b-ball.”

“Well, sort of. It?s been hectic, but I should have called before now. I?m sorry.”

“Hey, this is me remember. No apology necessary.”

Cat smiled, Lee Carol had been the closest thing to a serious relationship Cat had ever engaged in. They had dated for their last two years in college, rather steadily, but it had never grown into the ?I love you, can live my life without you? kind of relationship many couples found themselves in after that length of time. Lee and Cat had always remained casual and it was good for both of them. When they graduated and went their separate ways, and they did so as very good friends.

“Lee I have a problem, and I need your advice.”

“Anything, Cat. You know that.”

“Well, you know who Dylan Lambert is, right?”

“How could I not know? She was always staring at us when we made love.”

Cat chuckled. “Right. Well, the problem I have is with her.”

“Okay?” Lee drew the word out, waiting for Cat to continue. When nothing was forthcoming, she sighed and prodded. “Are you having problems with your game? I caught the one on ESPN the other night. You looked pretty good.”

“Oh you mean the Pistols fiasco? God what a game. That?s sorta?kinda?how my problem started.”

“Cat, dear, I love you to death but if you don?t get to the point I will be forced to come over there and tickle it out of you.”

Cat?s ribs twitched automatically at the remembrance of the many nights they had spent goofing off together, which usually resulted in Lee tickling Cat until she felt like she?d puke or pee herself. Many was the time she found herself begging for mercy. It was a mercy of the sweetest kind.

“Okay.” Cat paused, then let her words go in a rush. “I kissed her.”

“So?”

“So!? Jesus Christ, Lee! She?s my coach. My hero! My boss! I can?t kiss the boss.”

“Sounds like you already did.”

Cat sighed. “Yeah, I did,” she admitted quietly. “What am I gonna do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to crawl under a rock and stay there until Pallas Dylan Lambert retires to some ski resort somewhere.”

“No an option. Next.”

Cat twirled the phone cord in her fingers. “I could apologize, I guess.”

“Are you sorry it happened?”

“No,” she answered quickly and then changed it. “Yes, I mean?” She paused and picked the comforter. “I don?t know exactly. I mean?.I?m really attracted to her.”

“There ya go then. Is she attracted to you?”

Cat blinked and looked at the phone. Replacing it to her ear, she licked her lips before answering. “I don?t know.”

“Have you ever though about?oh, I don?t know?asking her?”

“Are you insane?”

“Probably, but that?s besides the point. If you think she?s attracted to you, then ask her and figure out where to go from there. How did this kiss happen?”

“We were playing ball and I charged her, instead of moving she stayed there. I crashed into her and when we fell, I was on top of her and then I?I?well?”

“You kissed her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

“Uh-huh.” Cat felt oddly adolescent.

“Ask her.”

“You?re not helping me here.”

“What do you want me to say Cat? Send her a dozen roses and an apology note? I?m not going to give you bad advice. I?m giving you honest advice. Ask her how she feels.”

“Lee, I?m not like you. I can?t ask that.”

“All right. Then just let it drop and see how she?s acting. If she pulls back then accept her friendship. If she moves forward, jump her.”

Cat laughed, feeling better than she had in the last few hours. “You know, I knew there was a really good reason I called you.”

“Because I give great advice?”

“Because you?re full of shit and I really needed that tonight. I needed to get calmed down.”

“Anytime, darling. You know you can call me anytime. I?m always gonna be here for you.”

Cat smiled. “Thanks Lee.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them.

“Catherine?”

“Yeah?”

“Don?t be a chicken shit. You?ll never know unless you go for it.”

“Right. Bye Lee.”

“Bye Cat.”

She hung up the phone and then stripped of her robe and climbed into bed. “We?ll see how things go, huh buddy?” She scratched Hamlet behind the ears as he turned and stretched out next to her.

Mac stepped out of his car, resisting the urge to jump right back in again as a huge, snarling beast lunged at him from the shadows of Dylan?s front porch.

“It?s okay, Brunhilde,” he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, and his bladder from letting go all over his trousers. “It?s Mac. Remember me?” The snarling continued. “Oh god, please remember me.”

Coming into the light, Brunhilde slowed, stopped, and sat on her haunches, still growling at the man she knew very well.

“Nice puppy. Niiiiice puppy.” He chanced a step away from the car.

Brunhilde barked.

He stepped back, and sighed.

“Look, girl, I know you?re just doing your job and all, but so am I. If I don?t get these papers signed by Dylan tonight, Johnson?s gonna have my ass.” He sighed again. “And if I do get these papers to Dylan, you?re gonna have my ass.”

Brunhilde whined.

“Great,” he muttered. “It?s one in the morning and I?m talking to a damn dog.” He looked down at the bristling canine. “Ok, look, here?s what I?ll do. If you let me go down so see your Mistress, the next time I come over, I?ll bring you the biggest, juiciest ham bone you?ve ever seen in your life. I won?t even bring one for your brother. You can lord it over him all you want. How?s that sound, huh? Pretty good, right?”

Brunhilde cocked her head, appearing to consider the situation. Then, with a soft, chuffing bark, she stood down and allowed Mac to move away from the car, though she glued herself to his side as he began to walk down the drive.

Knowing his friend well, Mac walked past the front door and around the side of the rambling house. Sure enough, the court at the bottom of the long hill was brightly lit by the floodlights surrounding it, and Mac could hear the rhythmic sound of the basketball hitting the clay.

Siegfried, trashed out after a long day of play, didn?t even bother to get up as Mac strode onto the court. Dylan finished the shot she was making, then turned to greet her visitor. Despite the late hour, she was covered with sweat, her jersey sticking to her in ways that made Mac?the most faithful of husbands?acutely uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Dylan greeted, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Hey yourself. What?s up? You?re not usually going this full out, especially this time of the night.”

Dylan shrugged as she bent to retrieve the ball. “Got some things on my mind, I guess.” She looked over at the sheaf of papers in Mac?s hand. “Those for me?”

“Yeah. Johnson?s scored this hot new Benz dealership for advertising bucks. He wants you to show up in two or three commercials with the owner?s pretty boy son, kiss up to your adoring public, and make him megabucks.”

“Ah. The usual.”

Mac chuckled, then grunted as Dylan grabbed the papers and pen, turned him around, bent him over slightly, and used his back to sign on the dotted line. When she handed the papers back, Mac took a good long look at her expression.

“You seem?pretty preoccupied, D. Everything alright?”

“Sure. Everything?s fine.”

Mac laughed softly and lightly punched her shoulder. “I?ve heard cheerier executees, my friend. What?s up?”

Dylan looked at Mac for a long moment. Though it was true that she guarded her privacy more jealously than her faithful dogs guarded her, Mac was a dear and longtime friend. And she thought, just maybe, it would be good to open up.

“I kissed her,” she said softly, as if that explained it all.

“Excuse me?” Mac asked, bringing a hand up to his ear. “Did I hear you say you kissed someone?”

Dylan shot him a look. “Catherine.”

“Deneuve? Isn?t she a little old for you?”

“Hodges, you idiot.”

“Cath?ohhh?.ohhhh?.oh no. Oh no, you did not just say you kissed your star player. I didn?t just hear that. I didn?t hear that at all.” When Dylan didn?t respond, Mac spun on her. “Damnit, D, what were you thinking?!?”

“There wasn?t much thinking going on,” Dylan admitted ruefully.

“Oh, this is bad.” Mac began to pace, his boot heels striking the court hard as he stepped. “Oh, this is worse than bad. Awwww Christ.”

“Calm down, Mac. You?re gonna give yourself a stroke.”

Mac whirled again, eyes wide, temple vein standing out, throbbing. “Stroke? Good! If I?m lucky, I?ll be too out of it to see your career explode all over the front page news!!”

“Mac,” Dylan replied with some heat, “it was a kiss, for god?s sake! It?s not like we?re getting married. Hell, we?re not even sleeping together.”

Mac stopped. “You?re not?”

“No.”

“But?you want to, right?”

“Jesus, Mac!” Dylan exploded. “Give me a little more credit than that! Give Catherine a little more credit!”

“So you don?t want to?”

Dylan threw her hands up in the air and walked off, leaving Mac to stare after her.

After a moment, Mac trotted after her. “Dylan?Dylan wait up. I?m sorry. I acted like an ass. I?m sorry.”

Dylan slowed, but didn?t turn.

Mac sighed. “Listen?it?s just?. Aside from the fact that we?ve got a bigot for a boss, D, fraternization with one of your players goes against everything in your contract, from the morals clause on down. It?s not that she?s a woman. It?s that you?re her boss. Her being a woman is just icing on the cake.”

He studied the tense and silent lines of her back. “Look, I know you already know all this. Hell, you probably know it better than me, but it?s?.damnit, D, it?s my job to tell you.”

“I know,” Dylan said quietly, still facing away from him.

Mac relaxed a little. “And I?m your friend too, D. And I don?t want you in the position of having to defend your actions if Catherine wants to pursue a sexual harassment suit against you.”

Dylan slowly turned. Her eyes were flaring, though outwardly, she appeared composed. “She won?t.”

“But how do you know? I mean, don?t get me wrong, D, I like Cat. She?s a good kid. A helluva player. But?it?s happened before, with good people and good players. I don?t want it to happen to you this time.”

“It won?t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Dylan sighed. “She initiated it, Mac.”

Mac felt as if the weight of the world had rolled off his shoulders. “She initiated it?”

“That?s what I said.”

“Thank God! Why didn?t you tell me that in the first place?”

“She wasn?t alone in it, Mac. I responded. I enjoyed it. I?.god.” Her shoulders slumped and she stared down at the ground. “It?s something I was thinking about before it even happened.”

“Awww, D.”

“I know. I know. I?m attracted to her, Mac. Nothing I can do about that.”

“You?ve been attracted to women before, D. You don?t always?.”

“Kiss them?”

“Yeah.”

“It just happened. It just?.”

“Will it happen again?”

Dylan shook her head. “I don?t know.”

Mac gentled his tone. “Do you want it to happen again?”

And that was the million dollar question. Part of her, a very large part, did want it. Another part, smaller but just as strident, wanted to run away screaming, for the exact reasons Mac had so succinctly spelled out to her. In the end, she answered the only way she could.

“I don?t know.”

DRIVEN: PART 3

She closed her eyes and finally fell into a fitful sleep. Her mind was wandering all over the spectrum. Part of her was admittedly rather giddy over the kiss, and another part of her was terrified that she had really messed up.

The dream started rather simply.

She was playing basketball.

The scene switched between the driveway of her parents home and the empty Badgers arena. She was shooting great, enjoying nothing but net every time.

Looking down, she realized she was stark naked.

Looking to the sideline, she also realized that Dylan Lambert was watching her, eyes avid to her every move.

She stopped and tried to cover her body with her hands, only to have Dylan smirk at her. The coach began walking forward slowly. Cat could hear her heart pounding in her ears and threatening to beat right out of her chest.

“Catherine?”

The player?s knees went weak with the seductive quality of Dylan saying her name. “Yes?”

“You?re very attractive.”

“Thanks.” she managed to squeak, wondering briefly why she was naked and Dylan wasn?t. What kind of screwed up dream is this anyhow?

“Very?.” Dylan paused and ran her finger over Cat?s shoulder, causing her to shiver and further causing goose bumps to break out all over her skin. “?attractive.”

“Oh God,” Cat moaned when she felt Dylan?s lips where her fingers had been only a second before.

With a blur, the scene shifted again, and now she was standing in the pet store. She looked down and found that once again, the God of dreams had taken her clothes. Funny how no one else noticed, but there was Dylan Lambert, smirking.

Again.

Soon she found herself back up against a wall. Dylan was kissing her and pressed so hard against her body she could barely breathe. Where she should have panicked, all she felt was excitement. If this was a dream?and she knew it was?let it continue for eternity.

When she gasped, they shifted the floor of the arena and the kiss continued, long and passionate. Cat wanted nothing more than to crawl under Dylan?s skin and stay there.

She moaned, and suddenly woke up.

Hamlet was licking her face with the all enthusiasm of a man lost in the desert going after an oasis.

“Oh gross!” She pushed him away and wiped the copious amounts of puppy drool from her face. “Thanks for ruining a perfectly wonderful dream. Well, all except that naked thing.”

She looked over at her alarm clock and realized it was already time to get up. Sighing, she got out of bed and trudged to the shower.

Once she was dressed, she grabbed Hamlet?s leash and took him out for his morning walk. It was raining, but not hard, and she decided there was no sense in going back for a jacket, because once Hamlet set his mind to the task at hand, it usually didn?t take very long. In less than ten minutes she was on her way back the apartment, just a little soggy, but with a happy puppy.

Breakfast was prepared; bacon and eggs for Cat, kibble for Hamlet. Per his morning routine, Hamlet ate, burped and then lay down by the front door. Cat continued to eat, and read the morning paper as she did. He eyes landed on an ad for cell phones and a blonde brow curved in contemplation.

“Maybe I should join the 21st century. Whaddya think Hamlet? Does Mom need a cell phone?”

On cue he rolled over on his back, with all four paws sticking in the air.

“Stop that, you look like road kill.”

He whined and flopped over on his side.

“Thank you.” She took another bite of her bacon and continued with the paper.

Two hours later, Cat stood in front of the store holding her new cell phone in her hand and looking quite please with herself. Of course the two hundred dollars she had ended up spending on ?extras? nearly caused her heart to stop, but she chalked it up to a need and realized she could write it off on her taxes.

Climbing in her truck, she dug around in the sack until the found the adapter for the cigarette lighter. She fumbled with it for a moment then plugged it in, attaching her phone to let it charge.

“God, I?m pitiful.” She mumbled aloud as she started the truck and pulled out into traffic. “I wonder what my friend would say if they knew I didn?t own a computer either.”

She drove to a bookstore, where she picked up a copy of the newest murder mystery by her father?s favorite author, a new cookbook for her mother and gift cards for her brothers. She was waiting in line when she looked over at a rack of biographies a few feet away and she saw Dylan?s face.

“Now how did I miss that?” She stepped out of line and plucked the book from the rack and thumbed through it. She decided that with the up coming road trip it would be something to read. Of course, she?d have to put a shopping bag cover on it, so no one would tease her about it.

She got back in line and waited patiently as first an elderly customer couldn?t find her credit card and then a mother of three, tried to keep her children from grabbing their purchases so the clerk could ring them up.

Three good reasons NEVER to have children.

After her errands were run she returned home. Hamlet sniffed her quite thoroughly just to make sure it was her and then jumped up on the couch, where he knew good and well he shouldn?t be.

“Get off there you slobber monster.” She shook her finger and he dropped to the floor. “Good boy.”

She settled down on the couch to look over the instructions for her phone. She felt it creeping up and looked desperately for a box of Kleenex, which she realized too late, she didn?t have. The sneeze was so loud and forceful it scared Hamlet.

“Great,” Cat grumped to herself as she ran into the bathroom for toilet paper. “Just what I need. We?re going up against the best team in the league and I?m blowing snot all over the place.”

The next evening, after practice, Cat began her habitual shooting drills, expecting that Dylan would join her at any time. Her belly fluttered pleasantly, causing her to miss her first seven shots in a row.

“Great,” she grumped, tearing after the errant ball yet again. “At this rate, I?ll still be here when practice starts again tomorrow.”

Grabbing the ball, she set herself up just behind the foul line. “Focus, Cat. Focus.”

She threw a brick as the image of Dylan kissing her on that very line ambushed her the second she released her shot.

“Shit!!!”

Her curse reverberated through the empty, cavernous arena.

“Alright,” she said, finally defeated. “I?ve had enough. I feel like shit, I?m playing like shit, and Dylan?s nowhere to be found.” She sighed. “This just bites.”

Walking dejectedly across the court, she tossed the ball toward the rack, and missed that shot as well. Grumbling under her breath, she made for the locker room, and then hit the shower, washing the sweat of a fruitless day from her body.

Even dragging on her clothes seemed a gargantuan task. The cold she still wouldn?t admit to was taking a lot out of her, and her reserves, always spare to begin with, weren?t kicking in as they should.

If someone had held a gun up to her head, however, she?d readily admit that what made her feel the lousiest was that Dylan and been scarce all day.

“She probably thinks I?m an idiot,” she muttered to herself, standing and slinging her gym bag over one shoulder. “God, a brand new rookie coming onto her coach. How clich� can you get?”

Trudging back through the locker room and out into the arena, mired deep in her own thoughts, Cat completely missed the silent figure standing in the shadows of the large exit doors.

“You?re through early,” a liquid voice sounded to her left.

Cat gasped, then spun, only then seeing Dylan as she emerged from the shadows. She was looking sleek in what Cat privately termed her “PR clothes”; black slacks and blazer over a silken blue shirt.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry about that. I thought you?d see me when you walked across the court.”

Cat?s cheeks pinked. “Sorry. My head was somewhere else, I think.” Then she sneezed.

Dylan?s expression became one of concern. “You alright?”

“Allergies,” Cat lied.

Dylan smiled a little. “Sounds more like a cold to me.”

Cat scowled. “I don?t get colds.”

“Mm.”

“Well I don?t!” And that was the truth?sort of. She hadn?t had a full out cold since junior high school.

Dylan nodded, relenting for the moment. “Well, if you feel well enough, would you like to get some coffee with me?”

Amazing how a few words, strung together to make a simple sentence, could do more to cure the common cold than all the years of civilized medicine put together. Thoughts of depression and exhaustion slipped away, and Cat grinned. “That?s the best offer I?ve had all day.”

“I should have known,” Cat laughed as she walked through the door Dylan held open for her. “Leave it to The Goddess to find the only organic coffee shop in the entire world. I didn?t even know they made organic coffee.”

“See the new things you?re learning?” Dylan teased as she led Cat up to the counter.

Chuckling, Cat stood at the counter, eyeing the selections. In a way, she was glad that the cold she didn?t have would probably blunt her taste buds some, as she wasn?t very sure she wanted to know that organic coffee tasted like. Still, she felt it was a small price to pay for the pleasure of Dylan?s company, and pay it she would.

A young, boyish looking woman smiled at them both from behind the counter. “What?ll you have?”

“A soy Chai Latte,” Dylan responded before turning to Cat.

“Um?I?ll try a Vanilla Latte, half caf, extra vanilla.”

“Comin? right up.”

As they waited, Cat took the opportunity to look around the shop. It was comfortable and homey, with pastel fabrics and soft music playing from tastefully hidden speakers. It really wasn?t all that much different from the other coffee shops she?d been to, save for the “organic everything”, including hemp bars instead of chocolate covered coffee beans.

Within moments, they had received their drinks and moved off to a quiet corner of the shop, easing down into two upholstered chairs that faced in toward a small, round table. After blowing on her coffee to cool it a bit, Cat took a tentative sip, prepared for anything. Her eyes widened as she realized that, dulled taste buds or no, it was just what the doctor ordered.

“This is good!” she exclaimed.

“Told ya,” Dylan teased, smirking. “It?s good to broaden your horizons.”

Cat gave a mock smile. “I?m all for that, but just remember, no matter how broad my horizons, Coach, you?ll never sway me from my carnivorous ways.” She took another sip. “So there.”

“Perish the thought.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a time, listening to the music and soft hive drone of the customers, and sipping their drinks.

After a long moment, Cat steadied herself with a deep breath, turned slightly, and placed her cup on the table. “Coach?”

“Yes?”

“I?um?wanted to tell you that I was?sorry?for last night. Not for the way I felt?feel?.” she hastened to add, “but because of the situation I put you in. I crossed a line and I?m sorry.”

Dylan smiled. “It?s alright,” she commented softly.

But Cat was on a roll. “No, no it isn?t. I know what my contract says about fraternization. I?ve read it over a few times.” She blushed lightly, aware of what information she was giving away. “And I can only imagine what yours says on the subject. It?s probably a lot harsher than mine. I mean, you?re my boss, and that just?.”

“It?s alright,” Dylan repeated, leaning over and laying a warm hand atop the one Cat had balled into a fist on the table.

Cat blushed again, and looked away. “Coach,” she said in a very low, quiet tone, “people get hauled into court for sexual harassment for things like this. It blows up in the media, especially with celebrities. It could ruin your career.”

Dylan squeezed Cat?s hand. “I don?t think you?d do anything like that, would you?”

Cat looked back at Dylan, eyes wide. “Never! I would never?”

“Then there?s nothing to worry about.”

“But?.”

“Cat, I said it was okay, and I mean it. Yes, what happened surprised me a bit, but?.” Dylan?s voice trailed off as she gathered her thoughts. “I?d be lying if I said that it in any way made me uncomfortable.”

“Really?” Cat asked softly.

“Really,” Dylan replied, before releasing Cat?s hand and straightening in her chair. “The fact is?.” she paused, then plunged ahead, “? I find you very attractive, Catherine. What happened between us, what we shared, well?it wasn?t at all unwelcome.”

For one of the first times in her life, Cat was struck speechless. She looked at Dylan, barely blinking, her eyes shining as if lit from within.

Smiling, Dylan reached out and gently tapped Cat?s chin. “Gonna catch flies.”

The sound of Dylan?s voice brought Cat out of her daze, and she flushed, then cleared her throat. “Organic ones,” she replied, voice slightly hoarse.

Dylan laughed aloud, shaking her head at Cat?s joke. Then she sobered. “Whatever happens between us, we?ll need to take it slowly.”

Cat nodded. “Slow is good. I can work with slow.”

Dylan?s smile reappeared. “Good. So can I.”

“Coach?”

“Dylan.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name. Dylan. I think since we?ve traded bodily fluids, so to speak, you can call me by my name, don?t you?”

Cat?s face lit up again as a broad smile wrinkled her nose. “Okay, Dylan.” It sounded weird to her ears, but she thought she could live with it.

“And your question?” Dylan teased.

“Question? Oh! I?um?.thanks.”

“For?”

“Just?thanks.”

“You?re welcome.” Dylan looked up at the clock over the counter and frowned. “It?s getting late. We should probably think about heading back. Early practice tomorrow.”

“Don?t remind me,” Cat groaned. “Let?s just hope I can shoot better than I did tonight.”

Dylan shrugged, unconcerned. “You had stuff on your mind.”

“And thanks to you, I?ve still got stuff, but it?s a lot more pleasant stuff.”

Shaking her head, Dylan rose to her feet, followed by Cat. “Shall we?”

The two walked through the store, and around to the back where their cars waited. The lot was dark and shadowed, but Dylan didn?t get any sense of danger from it. It was empty save for their cars.

Cat let go a mighty yawn, then belatedly covered her mouth. “Oops!”

“Don?t let your coach see that,” Dylan replied, smirking.

“Couldn?t have that. I hear she?s a real slave-driver.”

“Among other things,” Dylan placidly agreed.

“Yeah, she?s a real bear if you get on her bad side, which I try not to do too often.”

“You?re making progress.”

Cat chuckled. “All around, though, she?s pretty cool. And?.” Cat stopped and turned to Dylan. “She?s got the sweetest kiss I?ve ever tasted.”

It was meant to be a light-hearted comment, given the conversation between them, but when their eyes met, their smiles dropped away. Cat raised her chin as Dylan lowered her head, and their lips met sweetly, softly. It was a kiss not so much of passion but of promise. A promise of what lay between them and what that could become.

Each allowed themselves to be lost in it for a moment, closing their bodies together in a gentle embrace that was warm, and comforting.

When they finally broke apart, their smiles reappeared, and they gazed at one another, eyes bright even in the darkness of the lot.

“Oh, I can tell. This is going to be nice. Very nice,” Cat purred, still tasting Dylan on her lips.

“Oh yeah,” was all Dylan had words for.

Cat picked up the phone, took her tea from the counter, and tucked her Kleenex under her arm as she headed to the couch. Once she was there she sat everything on the coffee table, which was littered with aspirin bottles, various nasal decongestants, throat sprays and a big bottle of Nyquil.

She felt awful; it was the worst cold she remembered since childhood. Hamlet yawned and flipped over on his back, his favorite toy lodged in his mouth. “Yes, I called it a cold, alright?” she grumbled. “God, just kill me. Maybe then I can get some sleep.”

She stared at the phone. Something, some inner voice, was telling her to call her folks. She didn?t know why it was so insistent. She?d, after all, called them at least twice a week since she?d moved away.

This was different, though.

“Probably the fever,” she muttered before lifting the handset from the receiver and dialing the number she knew by heart.

The phone rang three times before her mother finally picked it up.

“Mom, it Cat.”

“Sweetheart, you sound awful.”

“I feel awful. I have a horrible cold and I needed my Mommy,” she whined in the most convincing voice possible, which wasn?t really hard.

Her mother chuckled. “I?m glad to hear it. Do you have a fever?”

“Probably.”

“Have you taken your temperature?”

“Mom, my throat is sore, my nose is so plugged I can?t take a drink without feeling like I?m choking, and my head feels like it?s in Daddy?s vise. If I have a fever, it?s the least of my worries.”

“Oh honey, I?m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Gargle with warm salt water.”

“Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the much detested childhood cure.

“You know it works.”

Cat sighed. “Yes Mom.”

“Other than the cold, are you all right sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I just felt miserable and wanted to call. How are you guys doing?”

“We?re fine, dear. Your brother Luke has a new girlfriend who ate supper with us tonight. I?m not exactly sure where she got her manners, but it surely wasn?t within a godfearing family like ours.”

Cat allowed her mother to ramble on without comment, soaking in the sound of her voice like a poultice. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, and stiffened quickly when she heard her mother?s strident tone.

“Don?t you agree, dear?”

“More than you could ever know,” Cat replied, winging it. “We?re going on a road trip day after tomorrow.”

“Flying?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, that should be fun. Especially with you as stuffed up as you are.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can they put you in the injured list?”

“Mom, I wouldn?t let them bench me when I was hurt, I?m sure not going to do it over a cold. Besides if the team doctor thinks I can?t play, they?ll make me sit out anyhow, but I still have to go.”

“I wish I could help, but I?m several hundred miles away and I?m going to see your grandma tomorrow.”

“Give her hugs and kisses for me.”

“Oh I will. She?s so proud of you. She?s got a big poster of you framed in the living room.”

“Oh God. Where did she get that?”

“I asked her the same thing and she showed me. She got on the Internet, Cat, and ordered off the Badgers? website.”

“You?re joking, right? My grandmother knows how to use the web?”

Since her grandmother was pushing ninety, she felt justified in asking the question.

“And apparently she?s very good at it, too.”

Cat laughed, which caused her to cough. “Well Mom, I feel like crap, so I?m going to drink my tea, take my Nyquil and go to bed.”

“As yes, Nyquil, the take in the kitchen and hope to hell you make it to the bedroom medicine.”

“To hell with the bedroom. I?m sleeping on the couch.”

“Well, take care of yourself and call me when you get home.”

“Oh, I will. Give my love to Dad and the boys. I?ll talk to you soon. Love ya Mom.”

“Love you too, honey. Feel better soon.”

“I?ll try my best. Bye.”

“Bye Catherine.”

Two days later, the Badgers and their coaching staff were waiting at Gate 22-A, ready to board the commercial flight that would take them to Los Angeles. Where most teams flew in private planes chartered by the owner, the Badgers were stuck with commercial transportation given that Johnson scored a good deal with one of the lesser known?and cheap?national carriers.

As a result, the team, and especially Dylan, was mobbed the moment they stepped into the terminal by autograph seeking fans, and not even the close confines of the planes they flew provided them any relief. Security was non-existent on such trips, and Dylan was about at the end of her rope.

This trip was no different, though Mac, the assistant coaches and trainers had formed a phalanx around Dylan, allowing her at least some respite from the crush of fawning humanity.

They all breathed sighs of relief when the gate attendant finally called for boarding of their flight.

Just as she was about to board, Cat?s cellphone rang, and she stepped out of line to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey, sis.” Her brother Luke was on the other end, and just the tone of his voice sent alarm bells ringing.

“Luke? What is it? What?s wrong?”

“It?s Mom. She?s been in an accident.”

Cat?s stomach plummeted to the floor. She could feel herself pale and a buzzing hiss filled her ears.

Dylan noticed immediately and beckoned Mac over. Mac took one look at Cat, nodded to Dylan, and took over the job of escorting the rest of the team onto the plane.

“Cat? Are you there?”

“Y-yes. I?m here. How?how is she?”

“I dunno, sis. Dad just called a few minutes ago. He?s on the way to the hospital now. He told me to call you and ask you to wait wherever you are until he can get a hold of you.”

“I?m in the airport, just about to board the plane to Los Angeles.”

An hand came down on Cat?s shoulder, and she looked up into the concerned eyes of Dylan. The Coach shook her head once in silent communication, and Cat nodded.

“I?ll stay right here, Luke, alright? If Dad calls you first, tell him to call me as soon as he can.”

“I will, sis. I gotta go. I don?t want to tie up the phone lines.”

“Okay, Luke. I?ll talk to you later.”

Ending the call, Cat folded her phone closed and turned to Dylan. “My mom?.”

Reading Cat?s face easily, Dylan took her hand and led her away from the crowded and gawping gate.

Cat followed Dylan?s lead, her body on auto-pilot, holding her tears in by sheer strength of will.

Dylan led Cat down the twists and turns of the terminal until she reached a set of unobtrusive steel doors, which she pushed open and stepped through into a relatively small, elegantly furnished, and nearly empty room. Dylan continued walking over to a corner table that sat by the large bank of polarized windows which provided a panoramic view of the tarmac below. She ushered Cat into one of the chairs, then squatted down by the younger woman?s side, not touching, but close.

Cat felt the tears begin to fall, and she ducked her head, unable to control them any longer. “She?was in an accident. I don?t know? if she?s gonna? be alright.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dylan whispered, reaching out and gathering Cat into a comforting, secure embrace.

Cat?s hands reached out blindly, crushing the lapels of Dylan?s blazer in a desperate grip as she let the fear for her mother roll over her in tumultuous waves. It was something she hated to do, cry in front of others, but Dylan made her feel safe enough to let out the fear and grief she felt in the only way she could.

Gradually, the force of the wave slackened somewhat and, with a shake of her head, Cat finally pulled away, wiping her reddened, puffy eyes with the heel of her hands. She flushed when she saw the state of Dylan?s crumpled, damp suit.

“I?m sorry. I?.”

“?s alright,” Dylan drawled, giving Cat a slight smile as she reached up and brushed her thumb against one final tear glistening on the younger woman?s cheek.

Cat?s phone chirped, and she froze, turning wide, unblinking eyes to Dylan. It chirped a second, then a third time, finally breaking her paralysis. Lowering a shaking hand, she picked up the phone, almost dropped it, then secured her grip as she opened it. “H-hello?”

“Hi, Kitten. It?s dad.”

“Dad? How?how is---?”

The smile in her father?s voice was obvious even through the poor, crackling connection. “She?s gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just a little bumped and bruised, that?s all.”

The relief that swept through Cat was almost as draining as the fear had been. She slumped back against the thick padding of her chair, weak as a newborn.

“Cat? Cat, are you there?”

“Yeah, Dad. Just?.thank god?. You?re sure she?s alright?”

“Perfectly sure, honey. Especially after the shot the doctor just gave her. Whatever she might be feeling, it sure isn?t pain.”

“Thank god. Alright.” Cat sat up, her mind whirling. “I?m at the airport now. I think I can get the next flight?.”

“No, it?s alright. You just go on to California with your team.”

“But Dad?”

“Cat, your mother made me promise that I wouldn?t let you come home.”

“Wouldn?t let me? Dad, I?m an adult here, in case you and mom forgot.”

“Oh, honey, I know that but, well?.” He paused as he cleared his throat. “Your mother, despite what she tells you, is very proud of you. She?s invited her friends over to watch you tomorrow so she can brag to them all about what a success her beloved daughter is.”

Cat felt her jaw unhinge as she listened to her father?s completely unexpected confession-by-proxy.

“She?what??”

“It?s true, sweetheart. Your mother would kill me if she knew I told you, but it?s true.”

“Kill you? Isn?t she there now?”

Her father chuckled. “Yup, all but passed out on the stretcher with a goofy grin on her face.”

Cat all but choked, holding the phone away from her ear as her mother?s fuzzy voice erupted over the tinny speaker, singing, of all things, “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”

“Dad?” Cat croaked, but her father was laughing too hard to answer. “Dad??”

When her father?s voice came back on the line, it was wheezy with spent laughter. “S?sorry sweetheart. I just?never expected that from your mother.”

“I didn?t even know she could sing!” Cat winced as a particularly sour note rang through the phone. “If you can call that singing.”

“Just thank God you can hang up whenever you want. I have a feeling I?ll be enduring this little concert for a while yet.”

“Are you sure there?s nothing she needs?”

“Nothing but a little rest and a lot of TLC, both of which I can give her. Now you just go on ahead and catch the next flight to sunny California, alright? Call us when you get there and I?ll fill you in on the latest.”

Cat sighed, then nodded. “Okay, Dad. Tell mom I love her.”

“As soon as she stops singing, I will, sweetheart. Fly safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Bye.”

“Bye, honey.”

Folding the phone and slipping it into her carryall, Cat smiled at the warm hand on her wrist.

“Everything okay?” Dylan asked.

“Aside from my mother arranging an impromptu jam session in the middle of the ER, yeah, everything?s fine. She just got a little banged up.”

“That?s good to hear.”

A bit embarrassed, Cat rubbed at the back of her neck. “I?um?guess we missed the flight out, huh?”

Dylan grinned. “Never fear. I?ve made some alternate arrangements. Anytime you?re ready, we can head out.”

“I guess I?m ready now.”

Standing with a fluid grace so much a part of her, Dylan reached down and helped Cat up from the comfortable couch. She hugged the smaller woman quickly, bending to whisper in her ear. “I?m glad your mom?s alright.”

“So am I,” Cat replied. “And thanks. For caring.”

Dylan gave her a rakish grin. “Not a problem at all.”

Dylan escorted Cat through the main terminal and into a smaller, less crowded part of the sprawling complex. After speaking quietly to a tall, uniformed man standing beside a stout door, they were ushered outside and onto the tarmac where a small jet, painted a garish purple and black and sporting Horace Johnson?s company name, waited, its engines growling softly.

Cat turned wide eyes to Dylan, who smirked down at her as she ascended the short flight of steps that led her up to the open hatchway. That smirk turned into a carefully neutral mask as Dylan stepped into the dimly lighted plane, giving a short nod to Johnson and his “secretary”?she of the platinum blonde hair and surgically enhanced assets. “Horace.”

“Took you long enough,” the team owner grumbled, only briefly tearing his rheumy eyes away from his assistant?s cleavage to shoot his head coach an irritated scowl.

“It couldn?t be helped,” Dylan replied, stepping forward in order to give Cat enough room to enter behind her.

“Mr. Johnson,” Cat said, panting slightly as she entered the plane, “thank you. I appreciate you offering this. My mother—”

Johnson grunted dismissively, not even bothering to look at Cat as he turned his attention back to the woman at his side.

Dylan shot him a look that would have gotten her summarily fired had he seen it and, grasping Cat?s hand in hers, led the way down the narrow aisle until they came to two empty seats across from the team physician who was sprawled out comfortably across her own row, grinning up at them. “Flying with the big dogs, I see.”

“He?s too much of a pig to be a dog,” Dylan grumbled, stepping aside and gesturing for Cat to grab the window seat, then settling down beside her. “Who?s the new trophy?”

“Eh,” Norton replied, shrugging, “somebody he met at some good ol? boy beer swill somewhere, I?m sure.” The doctor laughed. “You sure can hear the wind whistling between those ears.”

“Isn?t Mr. Johnson married?” Cat asked, adjusting herself in her seat and buckling the belt securely around her waist.

Dylan and Norton laughed.

“Horace wouldn?t know the word ?fidelity? if it came and bit him in the ass,” the doctor snorted, clasping her own belt. “I think he?s a majority stockholder in the Bimbo-of-the-Month Club.”

“And he has a problem with me being gay?” Cat asked, offended.

Norton laughed again, but her chuckle was rueful. “Par for the course for idiots like him, Cat. Par for the course.”

Cat sighed, shaking her head. “That bites.”

“That it does, my friend.”

Plane seats were never intended for someone as tall as Dylan, and with her knees scrunched practically up to her chin and nowhere for her broad shoulders to comfortably rest, she closed her seatbelt and willed the flight a quick one as possible.

Feeling Cat stiffen, Dylan turned her head to the side, smiling wryly. “Try not to let him get to you too much, Cat. He?s not worth it.”

Cat returned the smile. “It?s not that. Not really.”

Dylan frowned, noticing her companion?s sudden pallor. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cat replied, shifting a little. “I?m fine. It?s just?.”

“The flight?”

“I don?t mind flying. I kinda like it, actually. But this plane. It?s just so?so?.”

“Cramped?”

Cat blushed as she turned her head fully to look at Dylan, noticing for the first time how her coach?s body was crammed into the tiny seat. “Um?yeah.”

The feel of Dylan?s hand, large enough to palm a basketball with ease, completely engulfing her own served to chase the fears and tumult of the day back into the dark recesses of her mind. A wave of lethargy swept over her, and as the plane?s engines powered up for its taxi down the runway, she felt sleep claim her, her lolling head resting against Dylan?s shoulder.

A soft chuckle brought Dylan?s sharp gaze over to the snickering Kelly Norton, who gave her a cheesy grin and a waggling eyebrow before she turned away, blatantly ignoring the look of death shot her way.

Sighing, Dylan rested her head back against the seatback and stared straight ahead as the small jet gathered speed and took off into the vast evening sky.

A dream, already fading, woke Cat from her sleep, gasping. Still tired eyes darted toward the window, where she was treated to a violent display of lightening sparking through the roiling clouds enveloping their tiny plane.

She gave a louder gasp when the plane seemed to plummet a heart-stopping length before finally finding stable air beneath it again and leveling out. Her knuckles white from the grip on the arms of her seat, Cat looked to her left. Both Dylan and the doctor were gone, leaving Cat alone in this part of the plane.

She uttered a breathless cry as a brilliant bolt of lightning slashed almost against the window and the plane, once again, plummeted.

Hearing the cry, Dylan quickly ducked back into the passenger area and strode over to Cat, holding the seatbacks in order to keep herself from stumbling about as the plane rocked wildly back and forth. “What is it, Cat? What?s wrong?”

“What?s?.” Cat swallowed back the churning in her stomach. “?going on?”

Dylan shook her head. “We?ve got a problem. We?re almost over Denver and we?re gonna have to make an emergency landing.”

“Because of the storm?”

“No. Norton thinks Horace is having a heart attack.”

“Oh god. Is there anything I can do?” Cat sat up and struggled with the belt at her lap.

Dylan held up a hand. “No, keep it on. We?re going to land soon.” The plane dipped again, then tilted almost on its side, causing Dylan to nearly rip the seatback from its moorings as she kept herself from being thrown down the aisle. “I hope.”

“Dylan?”

Dylan looked down into a pair of brilliant green eyes; eyes which held a strong determination, and the faintest spark of fear. The coach could relate. She wasn?t ready to belt out “Ode to Joy” herself.

They both jumped, startled, as a lightning strike hit the plane, causing it to duck and shutter in a series of gut-wrenching dips and rises, as if it had suddenly landed in an amusement park and was substituting for the roller coaster. The lights dimmed, then shut down altogether, before coming back on in an eerie, flickering glow.

After a moment of relative calm, the plane wheeled crazily, uprooting Dylan and throwing her across Cat?s lap. She smacked her head hard against the bulkhead and pulled against the G forces pinning her down, seeing stars. Her guts sank, and stayed there.