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

?So that?s Super Girl, huh??

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

?That?s her.?

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

?She compensates for that with her abilities.?

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

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

?She?s queer.

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

?Don?t like queers.?

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

?What??

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

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

?Make you a deal, then.?

Dylan tried not to look annoyed. ?What??

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

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

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

?And number two??

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, we got a deal?”

Dylan gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

Dylan gave him a look hot enough to smelt metal.

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

?You do that.?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whistle blew. ?Charging! No basket.?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The referee looked at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

?Think you can take me down??

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

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

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

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