Kick Back

by K J

  “Gotcha. Can do, Eddie. Thanks.” Cam turned on her heel, opened and closed his office door so rapidly that it was like she’d ghosted straight through it, then marched over to her desk.

  “Fucking fucker,” Cam muttered, as she tossed her backpack from the chair and sat down heavily. She exhaled loudly, then ripped her laptop from the bag, dumped it on her desk, and opened it like a conductor. She plucked her glasses off, cleaned the lenses on the hem of her shirt, shoved them back on her face, combed her fingers through her curls, then held them back with one hand, while rubbing the track pad to awaken her screen. She let the curls drop and turned to find Bianca watching her, the tiniest smile on her lips.

  “Entertaining and intriguing,” Bianca mused, then lifted the headphones off her head, raised an eyebrow, and leaned on her elbow as if settling in for a good story. Cam looked at her for a moment, then pushed the laptop further away, and mimicked Bianca’s posture.

  “Why aren’t there ever any jobs going at the Beacon?” Cam asked, knowing the question was rhetorical, and contemplated Bianca’s outfit of black jeans, black singlet, black unbuttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black eyeliner, black beret squashed over her messy brown hair, and black boots. “Are you in disguise?”

  Bianca curled her lip. “Who’s the fucking fucker?” Suddenly she straightened, held her hand up like a stop sign, pulled a five dollar note from her jeans pocket, smacked it on the desk, then pointed at Cam. “Five dollars says I know who it is. Go.” Cam rolled her eyes. She was going to get a migraine from this amount of eyeball exercise.

  “It’s Eddie, of course.” Bianca nodded once, scooped up the money and shoved it back into her pocket. Cam stared. “That’s the most animated I think I’ve ever seen you. What’s going on?”

  Bianca resumed her position, leaning her elbow on the desk, and rested her cheek in her palm. “I was feeling ebullient. I like you.”

  “It’s taken five years for you to come to that realisation?”

  Bianca raised an eyebrow. “I like to take my time with these things.”

  Cam laughed. “Okay. Well, you won your five dollars back. Eddie’s just informed me that my stories suck.” She sighed. “I’m paraphrasing, but essentially he doesn’t want me writing anything about the passion these women have for their sport.” Cam leaned back in her chair, laced her fingers together and dropped her hands on top of her head. “The women desperately want this competition to succeed, Bianca. They deserve it, but it’s like everything is conspiring against them to make it fail. I don’t understand it.” She heard Bianca’s quick breath, and spun the chair towards her.

  “Gotta love a good conspiracy theory. Hit me.” Bianca leaned further into her hand, adjusting her elbow on the desk.

  “Okay. So, Eddie let slip that he’s working on the content of my stories with that three-member executive board that they’ve got, which is weird, because why would they be involved? So there’s that.” Cam raised her eyebrows. “A couple of the rookies were invited onto The Footy Show, where they were interviewed.” Cam flicked her fingers into the air to air-quote the last word. “So, it turns out, it wasn’t an interview, of course. It was a giggle and chat, then a turn in the dunk tank, which was as appalling as it sounds.” She shook her head, and crossed her legs. “I found out from one of the women I interviewed that the younger players are doing shopping centre promotions. She didn’t give me a huge amount of detail, but from what I understand, the players were all given shorts and jerseys one size too small, and then the public could take selfies with them.” Bianca’s eyes widened, and Cam pointed at her. “Uh huh. Then there’s the stupid sprinkler and hot water crap that the players have had to deal with.”

  Bianca cocked her head. “Details?”

  Cam sighed. “Sophia and some of the players have told me that the hot water’s been cut off rather suspiciously, those huge sprinklers have been left out on the oval when they’re supposed to be training, and the flood lights have only been turned on for half the field.” She curled her hands around her knee. “It just feels, I don’t know, off.”

  Bianca gave a short hum, straightened on her chair, and turned to face Cam. “You’ve probably caught something by the tail, you know. Time to pull on it.” Then a small smile, quietly dangerous, started on her lips, and Cam blinked. Bianca, in her all black outfit, and that little smile curling at the edges of her mouth, suddenly sent a shiver up Cam’s spine. Not a fun shiver, but not awful, either, more like Cam was glad Bianca had said she liked her before exposing that scary smile. After a pause, Cam nodded earnestly.

  “You’re right. Everything that Eddie won’t publish, and all this,” she tipped her head at Bianca, “conspiracy theory stuff would make an awesome story for the Beacon or somewhere. I’ll do it under a pseudonym. I mean, I’ve submitted to them under a pseudonym once or twice before in the past five years. Just for little things.” She tapped the track pad on the laptop. “You’ve submitted under a pseudonym before, right?” Cam looked at Bianca, and watched as her eyes narrowed to join the dangerous smile. They regarded each other for a moment.

  “All the time,” Bianca said softly. Cam cocked her head.

  “I have no idea who you are.”

  Bianca’s smile softened. “That’s fine. I like it that way. So, who’s Sophia?”

  “What?”

  “Sophia. You mentioned her before.”

  Cam ran her fingertips over the laptop keys. “Oh, she’s one of the senior players in the South Melbourne team. She’s been teaching me some of the rules and history of the game and I think on Sunday she’s going to teach me how to kick a football and…” She glanced at Bianca, who had closed her eyes and was gently shaking her head.

  Bianca cracked an eyelid. “Are you done?” Cam glared, and Bianca continued. “Okay, sounds like Sophia is your in. Get her to ask about cheap vitamins.”

  Cam wrinkled her brow. “What?”

  “I’ve heard some stuff about the players going to parties where they’re supplied with vitamins that are being made on the cheap.” She lifted her chin at Cam. “Get Sophia to ask about them. Or you ask about them. Whatever. I reckon she’ll have better luck, though.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Bianca’s face instantly closed and her eyes flattened. “I hear things.” She turned back to her desk, and jammed the headphones over her ears. “Go get your story, Cam.”

  ***

  “Well, as far as games of football go, that was unbelievably shit,” Nadine muttered through the fabric of her jersey, as it tightened its hold about her head. Sophia reached over, wriggled the damp clothing, and Nadine’s face appeared. “Thanks.” She flipped the jersey onto the bench. Sophia had to agree, as she crossed her arms at the hem of her own shirt and peeled the sticky clothing off her skin. It had been an awful match. Only a handful of the team had played to their full potential, and Bayside had spotted the weakness, spending all four quarters kicking goals and running through gaps as big as aircraft hangers.

  The weather hadn’t helped, either. Blue skies, and bright green grass are utterly useless when trying to spot a fire-engine-red football. When she’d said that to Ben and Lin once, they’d scoffed. So she’d dragged them outside, and made them stare at the sharp light of a crayon-blue sky, then quickly look at one of the bright sunburst-yellow roses in the garden. They’d blinked, squinting at the flower. “See? Too much colour. You need it muted, like a soft grey. Photographers will tell you this all the time.” At least the temperature had been sensible. Cool, no breeze, perfect end-of-March football game weather. Except for the ridiculous toy-box colours.

  “God, I ache.”

  Nadine nodded, and grunted in sympathy. Sophia pulled back on her fingers, stretching her forearms, then announced to those nearby, “I’m in the ice bath today, while I’m waiting for Flo to develop self-drive capabilities.” Soft laughter and hums of agreement followed Sophia as she stripped down to her matching black sports bra and undies, then wandered ove
r to the two tubs filled with freezing water. These had been supplied by Craig, when the request from the captains, including Fitz, for extra equipment had been denied by the board. Sophia dipped a foot into the bath, hissed, then figured the only way to make this work was to just get in and cope.

  Oh, God dammit. Jesus. She hissed again, gritting her teeth, as the muscles in her arms worked to hold her steady. Her nipples, reacting instantly to the cold, were standing to attention, pushing at the fabric of her sports bra, as she lowered her body. Just as her breasts touched the surface, Sophia looked up to find Cam standing at the end of the tub, clutching her backpack straps, her eyes wide.

  ***

  Oh. Oh. Wow. Um. Somewhat vaguely, Cam remembered that there was a process for breathing, and figured now would be a great time to activate that knowledge. After her discussion with Bianca yesterday, Cam wanted to find out exactly what Sophia had heard about these cheap vitamins. Hence, her after-game change-room arrival. Of course, Sophia lowering herself into an ice bath, with every muscle defined on her tight abdomen, and arms, and shoulders—oh dear God—was not what she’d expected to stumble upon. It brought crashing to the forefront of her mind a scene from a movie that J’aann and Francine had made her watch last year when they were worried about her recurring melancholy over Rachel. Immersion therapy, they’d called it. The actress—whoever she was—had portrayed a character who’d settled into an ice bath after some sort of athletic pursuit—Gymnastics? Cheerleading?—Cam hadn’t let on but the scene had just about made her spontaneously combust, and here’s Sophia, all shoulders and damp hair, slipping into your ice-bath wet dream. Cam forcibly closed her mouth.

  “Hi.” Cam’s voice cracked slightly. “Hey there. Uh, sorry about the game.” Sophia, despite the obvious discomfort from the ice, lifted an eyebrow as if completely aware of the effect she was having on Cam. “I…um…I can wait outside if you like.”

  Sophia winced. “Nope. It’s fine.” She groaned. “Just give me a couple more minutes. I’m only allowed five.” Her hands still gripped the edge of the bath, the knuckles white, and she breathed carefully through a tiny ‘O’ shape in her lips. Sophia flicked her eyes at Cam. “Distract me. What’s up?”

  “Well, I just wanted to grab you—talk. I wanted to talk to you about something that came up for a story I’m writing.” She gestured vaguely with her hand to the change-room. “Not for one of my Post pieces.”

  “Mmm. Okay.” Sophia pushed on her hands, and Cam surrendered to her libido—Well, I do have eyes, for God’s sake!—watching in fascination as Sophia exited the tub, one amazing muscle at a time. She trailed behind as Sophia grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapped it around her body, and strolled to the centre bench in the room. Cam shook her head softly, and took her glasses off to defog the lenses on her shirt. She really needed to collect herself, because she was completely out of sorts, and it was entirely the fault of the dripping woman in front of her.

  “So, thank you for telling me about your dad. I appreciate that,” she said quietly.

  Sophia dragged the towel across her face, then up over her hair, pulling the wet strands away from her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she responded just as quietly. “He was a good guy. Cancer’s a fucker, you know.”

  Cam nodded in sympathy. “I’m sorry. It was lovely to put him in context with Giancarlo and Morrie. I’d like to visit them again some time, if it’s okay.” She paused, then smirked, projecting her voice. “Can you handle me revisiting your favourite haunt?” Cam knew it was a fairly weak attempt, but it was all she had right then. The provocative tone she’d used, however, alerted the handful of players around them, and they slowed their movements, small smiles appearing on their lips, their eyes flitting between the two.

  Sophia cocked her head. “Are you flirting with me?” They held their gaze for a moment, and Cam was instantly reminded of the same conversation they’d had weeks ago.

  “I’m not flirting with you,” she said calmly, pushing her hair off her forehead and temples. Then she pulled the corner of her bottom lip in between her teeth, slowly dropped her gaze from Sophia’s quizzical blue eyes to her lips, her breasts, and then back to her eyes, which had darkened in response to the appraisal. She leaned closer and, without breaking eye contact, spoke loudly enough for those around to hear. “You’d know if I was.” Instantly hoots and hollers, like the teasing an older sister receives from her younger siblings, filled the space. Sophia blushed and a smile of acknowledgement shifted onto her lips.

  “Mm.” She slowly shook her head.

  Cam grinned. “I’ll meet you outside.” And then, feeling incredibly pleased with herself, she marched through the doorway, and down the corridor.

  Chapter Eight

  Cam found herself standing outside Provender again, peering in through the shop window. Her smile reflected in the glass. Yesterday, at the exit to the football ground, Sophia had shared with Cam what she knew about the vitamins and the parties, which wasn’t a great deal, so they’d agreed to work together to uncover new information. For Cam, this meant new information for her story, and for Sophia, more information meant another way to protect the young players from anything ‘shitty’, as she’d labelled it. However, the smile Cam wore now was in response to when she’d asked for Sophia’s phone number to confirm today’s ‘learn to kick a football and not kill people’ session. Three of the younger players—Naomi, Hara, and Leigh—had wandered past right at that moment, and the smirks and chorus of “ooohs” had sent another delicious blush shimmering across Sophia’s cheeks. Cam was thoroughly enjoying her ability to disrupt Sophia’s cool facade.

  “Can I help you…with anything?” Cam actually leapt in the air, just a tiny amount, but enough for her to step back, hitch her breath, and pull her elbows into her body. She turned towards the voice, which, when she lifted her gaze, belonged to a tall, very good-looking, Scandinavian Sophia-lookalike. He had kind, blue eyes and his beard needed to be presented with a “Yay For Trying” effort award. Cam hummed.

  “I’m just waiting for a friend. She said to meet her here.”

  The man blinked, then bestowed a dazzling smile on her. “You’re Cam.” He stuck out his hand to engulf her own. “I’m Ben, Sophia’s twin brother. Soph’s talked about you.” Cam withdrew her hand and cocked an eyebrow.

  “Has she now?”

  Ben grinned mischievously, shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and rocked back and forth on the heels of his boots. “Oh yeah. All good. So many awesome details, like how pretty you are, how smart, how much you love competitive sports, how much—”

  “You are absolutely the worst brother in the world!” Sophia’s growl, accompanied by a solid punch to Ben’s shoulder, heralded her arrival outside the shop. Clutching his injured arm, Ben laughed, a deep rolling sound that filled the street.

  Cam chuckled. “Obviously, scaring the shit out of innocent bystanders is a family trait.” She folded her arms across the front of her long-sleeved shirt and tossed a look between the siblings. Sophia shook her head at Ben, then turned to Cam.

  “I’m sorry about my brother. He’s only allowed out on Sundays.” Cam laughed, noticing how really warm Ben and Sophia’s mutual glare was. She assumed that this type of teasing was standard in their relationship. Sophia looked Cam up and down, taking in the shirt, and training pants, then pointed to her sneakers. “Good choice. But I’ve probably got some boots you can wear if you want.”

  Cam snorted. “Yep. Sure. Like that’s necessary. You kick the ball so bloody far we need a packed lunch for our journey to go find it. Me? The ball will travel from here to Ben. So, I reckon I’ll be fine in…” She pointed down to her shoes. Ben beamed, and leaned his forearm on Sophia’s shoulder.

  “I like her. She’s Captain Snarky.”

  Cam tapped her shirt lapel and nodded seriously. “Yep. Got the badge.” Then she grinned at Ben, and they turned to Sophia, who gave both of them a highly enunciated eye-roll.

  “Hilariou
s. Well, I’ll dash upstairs and get everything.” Sophia pointed at Ben, as she walked backwards. “Be good.” Then she swivelled and jogged around the corner of the building. For a moment, Cam watched her retreating form, resplendent in skintight black training leggings and a rugby shirt, then turned back to find Ben’s smirk firmly planted on his lips.

  “Soph lives upstairs, so she won’t be long.” He winked, smiling at Cam’s obvious staring. She covered her blush by pushing her glasses higher on her nose.

  “Good to know. Do you live up there as well?”

  Ben laughed. “Oh God, no. We love each other but we’d kill each other. I live with Lin, my partner, a few streets that way.” He tipped his head to indicate the direction. “But Soph and I run this place.” Ben smiled and tossed his finger at the lettering on the window. Cam flipped away some wayward curls.

  “It looks like you’ve been here for a while. You’re quite established.”

  “We’ve only been running it for a half a dozen years. Actually, it was Dad’s business, and when he died, he passed on to us the building, the business, and the house Lin and I live in.” Ben paused, swallowed, and Cam reached out to clasp his forearm.

  “I’m sorry. And I know about your dad. Sophia told me.”

  Ben drew back. “She did? Ooh, she likes you.” He smiled wickedly, which was the expression that Sophia spotted as she came around the corner.

  “Hey, buster. You better not be saying things that you’ll regret.” She narrowed her eyes as she drew level with them. Cam rolled her lips together, as Ben and Sophia squared off.

  “Okay. All the tall, blonde Swedish people need to step back.” She flung her arms out dramatically and inserted her body between the siblings. Cam noticed that while she was only a head shorter than Sophia, Ben’s height difference was at least twice that again, making him seem like a jovial giant. Sophia and Ben laughed at Cam’s antics.