“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.