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.”