by K J
“I read your article on Naomi in today’s paper,” Sophia said, taking in the black cotton pants, light blue blouse, and Cam’s spiral curls disregarding all instructions to maintain some semblance of order on her head. She gripped the top railing of the boundary fence, braced her elbow, and leaned casually to the side.
“Aww. That’s good. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Cam lifted an eyebrow.
The casual leaning didn’t last long. Sophia pushed off the railing to lift both hands into the air in frustration. “I didn’t enjoy it. It was terrible. Who cares what Naomi’s latest clothing purchase was or who she follows on Instagram?”
Cam glared, her brown eyes flashing, and adjusted the shoulder straps of her backpack. “Readers do. Naomi liked it and so did Dominic and the board.”
Sophia huffed dismissively. “That’s because Naomi’s eighteen and it’s the first time she’s been in the paper and she’s excited. And Dominic and the board liked it because they’re misogynistic arseholes who think women are decorative.” She twisted her torso left and right in frustration, and dropped her large kit bag on the ground with a heavy thump. “Why can’t you write that she’s an amazing rookie who can kick a football fifty metres and has the potential to be the player of the match nearly every week?” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her track pants, simply to temper the desire to throw something. Cam folded her arms, her eyes stoked with fire. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sophia hadn’t finished. “Take the time to get to know the game, for God’s sake. Understand the game. Even just a little bit.”
Cam’s eye contact was unwavering. “That’s not my job,” she ground out, her teeth clenched.
Sophia shook her head. “Seriously? Your job is actually to write fluff?”
“While I might not always be a fan of the content, my job is my job, and I’m damn good at it.”
“So you don’t want to know anything about the heart of football?”
“Sport doesn’t have a heart. It’s sport.”
Sophia blinked. “Jesus. Who hurt you?”
Cam bared her teeth. “None of your business.” She looked Sophia up and down, and turned on her heel. “Good game, by the way,” she tossed over her shoulder. She’d only taken a couple of steps, when Sophia grabbed her wrist, and with a gentle tug, turned her around.
“Wait.” Her voice softened. “Please. I’m sorry for calling your article terrible. It…it was actually well-written, if you leave aside the content.” She wrinkled her forehead, then realised she still had hold of Cam’s wrist. She let go as if burned, and Cam folded her arms across her chest.
“You’re winning at compliments. But thank you.”
Sophia pressed her fingertips together. “Look, I actually think we’re on the same page, just at different corners.”
“Is that a joke? You’re making a writer’s joke?” Cam had her eyebrow raised again. Sophia stared as it disappeared under the wayward curls.
“No. I’m just saying—” She caught the smirk, and tossed her hands again. “Christ, you’re exasperating.” She blew out a large breath, and gazed at Cam, who stared back through the black-rimmed glasses, which she gently pushed higher on her nose. Sophia followed the gesture. “How can I convince you that football does have soul?” Cam started to shake her head, and Sophia’s mouth and brain suddenly decided to sever all communication. “Meet me at Provender, my shop, tomorrow afternoon and I’ll help you understand the game, its spirit, how it takes on a life of its own.” She blinked, and Cam mimicked the action.
“What? I’m not going out with you.” Her face was scrunched in utter confusion.
“I didn’t invite you to go out with me. I invited you to meet me.”
“That’s just semantics!” Cam scoffed.
“Pedantry,” Sophia murmured.
“What?”
“Pedantic. I was being pedanti—” She took in Cam’s wide-eyed glare. “Right. So?” She shrugged hopefully.
Cam hung her hands loosely off the straps at the front of her shoulders. After a long minute, she made a noise that could only be described as a stunned cough. “Apparently, against my better judgement, I’m going to satisfy my curiosity in the name of research.”
“Okay.”
“But I’m not going to dinner with you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not sure I even like you.”
“Okay.”
Cam narrowed her eyes. “You’re agreeing with me. That’s worrying.”
Sophia laughed. “No, it’s not. It means you’re right. You’re not going to dinner with me. Bummer, but that’s okay. And you’re not sure you like me.” She grinned in response to the small smile that Cam tried very hard to stifle. “I can work with that.”
Cam inhaled. “You’re not working with anything, champ.”
Sophia pulled her lips in to squash her smile and nodded seriously. “Okay.”
Cam’s lips quirked. “What time am I turning up at…?”
“Provender. Five pm and it’s on Church Street.”
Cam studied Sophia for a long second, then nodded. “Okay, then. Well, gotta go. Trains to catch, not-terrible stories to write, you know how it is.” She turned on her heel. “See you tomorrow.”
Sophia waited a moment. “See you tomorrow,” she called, then allowed a half-smile to slide onto her lips.
Chapter Six
The burning ice needles had retracted somewhat, which meant that if Sophia relaxed her right shoulder a little, her face wouldn’t be so close to the giant iceberg currently strapped to that particular joint. Hara’s tackle had been effective, clinical, ploughing Sophia into the ground so she ended up spitting out blades of grass. All of which meant that as Hara walked past from the showers, and mouthed ‘sorry’ for the tenth time, Sophia simply grinned and shook her head.
“Stop it. It’s fine. It’s part of training.” Sophia rested her forearms on her thighs, legs apart, and stared through the gaps in her fingers at the tiled floor. Suddenly, an open magazine was thrust into her hands, and she instinctively grabbed it to stop it from falling. Fitz dropped onto the bench, and Sophia straightened as she took in the image on the page in front of her. Not only was Fitz parked next to her left elbow, she was startlingly exposed in her hands as well. “Christ! Wow, Fitz. You’re…freaking naked.” Sophia flipped the cover over. “Honey?” She flipped back to the article, and took in Fitz’s well-sculpted and oiled form, her arms and hands strategically placed.
“Good, hey?” The pride in Fitz’s voice was evident, and when she turned her head, Sophia could read the same emotion all over her captain’s face. Fitz grinned. “I mean, it’s not like the female population of Melbourne hasn’t already seen this.” She nodded at the page, and Sophia blinked. Okay, wasn’t gonna say that out loud, but yes.
“When did you decide to do this? Why did you decide to do this?” She wrinkled her forehead. “I mean, it’s an incredible photo, and oh look, there are even words.”
Fitz laughed. “Careful of your shoulder, Lindstrom. It might get thumped.” She flicked a finger at the magazine. “That copy’s yours. I got given a pile to hand out to the rainbow family and any others who want one.” She patted her thighs. “As far as the when and why. Three weeks ago, and even though it was Dennis and the board’s idea, I thought drumming up publicity in the premier queer women’s magazine in Melbourne was a good captain’s call for the team and the comp.” Sophia nodded slowly, her mouth an upside-down ‘U’.
“It’s innovative marketing, that’s for sure.”
Fitz appraised Sophia, taking in her grass-stained training leggings, sports bra, dripping ice pack and the overall dishevelled appearance. “You should do it too. You’ve certainly got the body for it.”
Sophia barked out a laugh. “Mm. Okay. That’d be a no.” She rolled the magazine into a loose tube, and tipped it at her captain. “Thanks for this.”
“Welcome,” Fitz said, and she strode from the change rooms, clearly intent on delivering
more magazine-shaped business cards to the rest of the women in the city. Sophia smiled wryly. Fitz really was harmlessly arrogant. She lifted her body gingerly off the bench and assessed various joints and muscles. Huh. Not awful. The soggy strapping around her shoulder came off easily, and she walked over to dump the whole mess in the bin.
“I want to give her some. I feel bad for hurting her. Maybe it’ll help.” The urgency in the voice paused Sophia’s actions. Hara was clearly making a plea to someone around the corner in the dry-tile section of the change rooms.
“You know we can’t. They said it’s only for us. We’re not allowed to, not if we want the competition to grow.”
“But, Louise. She’s sore, and these will help her heal faster.”
“No. That’s the point. We’re not supposed to help the older ones. They want stronger, more resilient players.” Sophia heard both women sigh. “I know it seems mean, but we’re the future of the comp, Hara. That’s what they said the other night at the party.” The ice bag slipped from Sophia’s fingers and, as it entered the bin, the noise must have startled the young players. Louise hurried past first, made very brief eye contact with Sophia and muttered a quick “see you later.” Hara faltered when she walked by, and Sophia laid a soft hand on her arm.
“You okay?”
Regret shimmered across her face. “Yeah. Sorry about your shoulder again.” The apology seemed to hold more weight this time, and Sophia studied her for a moment.
“It’s fine, Hara.” She squeezed her forearm lightly. “You know you can talk to me any time, okay?” Hara breathed in heavily, nodded, then slid her arm away from Sophia’s grip.
“Yeah.” Her lips attempted a smile. “I’ll see you later, Soph.”
Sophia stared at her retreating form, wondering what on earth was going on. A phone call to Craig seemed like the next logical step.
***
Cam slid her hands into the front pockets of her cargo pants, as she contemplated the plate glass with the frosted lettering. Provender. The slate tiles and expensive produce that she’d seen, with a quick glance through the window, indicated the exclusive nature of the store. I bet it’s quiet inside. It’d be like walking into a library for groceries.
“You can go in, you know.”
Cam expelled a fast breath, and threw a sour look at Sophia. “Really?”
Sophia laughed, and mimicked Cam’s hands-in-pockets gesture. “Really, I can go in? Or really, Soph you scared the crap out of me?” Cam huffed a quick chuckle.
“The latter, but never mind. So, here I am at the designated time and you’re going to give me the keys to the ancient mysteries of football.” She cocked an eyebrow. They regarded each other for a moment, then Sophia’s lips quirked, as her gaze dipped, landed briefly on Cam’s lips, then travelled back to her eyes.
“So dismissive.” She took two steps past Cam. “Come on. We’re walking for a bit.” Cam turned to join her, taking the few seconds that she was behind Sophia to appreciate the shoulder-length blonde hair, the way the jeans hugged her arse, the muscle definition in her arms, and the relaxed stride of an athlete. It wasn’t as if Cam’s body was without tone; yoga and hiking kept her in shape. But Sophia? Oh my. Then she mentally smacked herself in the head as she drew level. You’re not doing that to yourself again. Stop it.
“What did you do today?” She looked over, and Sophia smiled.
“I had training this morning, where I got run over by a rookie, who then used my right shoulder as a piece of line marking equipment.” Sophie turned to catch Cam’s horrified expression, then burst out laughing, stopping in the middle of the footpath to lean over her knees. Cam stared at her, as she finally straightened and caught some restorative breaths. “Ah. Oh God, Cam. You should have seen your face.” Sophia gave another quick chuckle. “Come on. We’re nearly there. And my shoulder? That’s just part of the sport. But look? All good.” A shrug proved her point, then she grinned, all white teeth and sparkling blue eyes, and Cam couldn’t help responding to the cheekiness.
“Well, at least it didn’t dent your ridiculous confidence.” She widened her eyes in a mock glare, and Sophia’s grin turned into a laugh, as she stopped to grasp the handle of a café door.
“This is it.” She pushed inside, spinning to hold the door for Cam, who walked in, her head tilted in confusion. She adjusted her glasses.
“I thought you were going to enlighten me about the soul of AFL football.”
“Oh, I am.” Sophia tossed the words over her shoulder as she made her way to the long wooden counter. “What would you like to drink?”
Cam was thoroughly befuddled. “Um…I don’t know. A latte?” She flipped her hand as if the question was so odd that she’d answered with the first thing that had popped into her head. Sophia nodded and turned to the young blonde barista, who sported an entire caterpillar of studs along the outside of both ears, and a cluster of colourful tattooed vines, which slithered beautifully out from the collar of her shirt, up her neck and into her hair.
***
“Hi, Magic. How’s your day going?” Sophia rapidly hand-signed in conjunction with the verbal greeting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cam tip her head, then snap her gaze to the barista.
“It’s been great, Soph.” Magic grinned. “Pina says hi, by the way, an’ that she’s sorry she missed th’ last group session, yeah? Hey, I need t’ chat t’ you about the fundin’ for the shelter. We’re goin’ to be up shit creek soon. Talk later, hey?” Sophia alternated her gaze from Magic’s hands to her face. “What’re you having?”
“I didn’t know about the finances. I’ll come to a meeting soon.” She continued to sign, and heard the breathy “oh!” from Cam. “We’ll get a latte, and a flat white, please.” Magic slid her gaze to Cam, and stilled her hands.
Sophia waved her hand, palm up at Cam. “Magic, meet Cam. Cam, meet Magic.”
Cam grinned. “Nice to meet you.”
“An’ you. D’you have regular milk?” Magic smiled through her question, and Sophia watched Cam’s face, enjoying the warm brown eyes, the way her cheeks shifted into gorgeous bunches on her heart-shaped face when she smiled. Cam pushed up her glasses, and Sophia quirked her lips at the gesture. She really is pretty.
“Yes, please.” Cam angled her head at Sophia, as if filing away information. “Why do you two sign when you can both hear?”
Magic answered, as Sophia passed her credit card over. “It’s kinda like a habit now. My partner, Pina, is deaf, an’ we jus’ sign even when she’s not here.”
Cam hummed. “Where did you all meet?” Her eyes lit up with the question, and Sophia reckoned that was probably the look that Cam wore any time she was curious.
“Am I being interviewed?” Sophia raised her eyebrows and Magic laughed.
Cam frowned. "I am able to carry on a conversation without storing everyone’s responses for a future exposé.”
Too cute. “Teasing. I’m teasing.” She lifted a hand in apology. “So, we met one morning about four years ago outside the Hart Road Shelter. They were hanging about, smoking and generally making a nuisance of themselves, and I was walking past, just minding my own business.”
Magic grumbled. “Yeah, right. This one—” she jerked her thumb at Sophia, “—got all pushy, wanted t’ know our names an’ stuff, then marched inside an’ took over th’ sports program withou’ any trainin’ or nuffin’. And then she went an’ learnt Auslan jus’ so we couldn’t talk behind her back.” Sophia threw a mock glare at Magic, who simply laughed.
Cam’s face took on the same ‘filing away information’ expression. “You volunteer there?”
Sophia shuffled a little, and spoke to the sugar dispenser. “Yeah. When I can. It’s a bit tricky during the season, but generally I do breakfasts, and sports and games on the weekends.” She huffed a breath, turned to Magic, and signed while she spoke. “You gonna do those coffees, or not?” Her right index finger chopped down onto her left. Hurry up. Cam seemed to understand
that one, because she laughed. Magic curled her lip, wrinkled her nose, and glared mischievously at Sophia.
Is she your latest girlfriend? Magic’s hands flashed.
Sophia snarled silently and shoved her left index finger into her right wrist, where the hand, clenched into a fist, was flicked aggressively at Magic. This was followed by a quick thumb jerk away from her chest. No. Piss off.
Magic cracked up and disappeared behind the enormous La Pavoni espresso machine.
“What was all that about?”
“She asked if I wanted an extra shot.”
Cam delivered a very flat gaze. “You seem to have rather strong opinions about additional caffeine.”
***
Two older gentlemen, probably in their seventies, were ensconced in the corner at one of a handful of standard aluminium tables scattered inside the café. Sophia hoisted a couple of spare chairs, and threaded her way over to the corner.
“Ciao, Giancarlo. Afternoon, Morrie.” Sophia separated the chairs and placed them on either side of the table. Giancarlo stood quickly, beaming under his flat cap, the half-moons of skin under each eye like ripples in a pond. Sophia’s shoulders were clutched and a kiss was pressed onto each cheek.
“Buonasera, Sophia.” Each syllable of her name was given equal weighting in his gorgeous Italian lilt. She turned to the other man, who was attempting to manoeuvre his body over his cane. He dropped back into his chair as she gently kissed the stubbly cheek on a face that was surrendering to gravity. His smile was beatific.
“S’phia Lindstrom! How’re y’, lass?” Morrie flattened his vowels like vocabulary road kill. Sophia grinned, then turned her body sideways towards Cam who was standing beside her.
“Gentlemen, this is my friend, Cam. She’s a reporter for The Post and it’s her mission in life to discover the portal to the soul of AFL footy.” She laughed at the exasperated eye-roll that Cam threw at her as she leaned forward to shake Giancarlo and Morrie’s hands. Then Magic appeared with their coffees, and Sophia settled into the chair opposite Cam, and held her gaze. “These two men are the Football Authorities. I hope you heard the capital letters I used, because they are the authorities on all that is football.” The men chuckled.
