“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.