Playing the Game

by Graysen Morgen

  “Purple and pink,” Mitch called. Two new sets of teams took the field while the others stepped aside for water before moving to the passing drills that the assistant coach was running.

  Once all the groups had played one small-sided game, Mitch brought the two fastest scoring teams back to play each other while everyone else ran through more passing, defending, and shooting drills. Randi’s group was up again. This time, Carrie scored after only two passes. Thus, ending the small-sided game drill.

  *

  An hour and a half later, the women rushed through their showers and cleaned up their locker areas, before moving on with the rest of their day. Randi was thankful the coach had canceled the team meeting. Otherwise, they would’ve had a team lunch and then sat around for another two plus hours looking at film and discussing their next opponent.

  “How did the ankle hold up?” she asked, sliding into the passenger side of Olivia’s SUV.

  “Fine,” Olivia said, smiling at her. “I wasn’t as rusty as I probably should’ve been because I started training weeks ago.”

  “That’s good. Did you have an idea about lunch? I’m starving.”

  Olivia shrugged. “I thought Carrie invited us to join her and Anna at that new Mexican place.”

  “That’s dinner tomorrow night,” Randi corrected. “I think most of the team is going, actually.”

  “Cool. How about that soup and sandwich place on Golden Trail, for lunch?” Olivia said, changing lanes.

  “Fine with me.”

  “You never finished your story from this morning.”

  “What story?”

  “The Grind?”

  “Oh,” Randi laughed. “There were two cups on the counter apparently. I only saw one, which I grabbed and took a long sip. I don’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t what I’d ordered. I spit it out as fast as I’d sipped it. I also happened to spit it all over the woman who had ordered it.” She shook her head, thinking about the debacle.

  “Ohhhhh. I bet she was pissed,” Olivia chuckled.

  “Surprisingly, no. She even kept the drink. The owner tried to give her a new one. Hell, I tried to buy her a new one, but she was fine with it. I know I ruined her shirt.”

  “Maybe she was a fan and was trying to get your cooties,” Olivia teased.

  “She had no idea who I was, so it wasn’t that. I’ve never seen her before.”

  “It was probably one of those cosmic fluke things.”

  “Cosmic?” Randi raised a brow. “You mean karmic? Like karma related?”

  “Whatever the hell it’s called.”

  “Who knows. I’ll probably never see her again. I’m over it.”

  “I hope this place isn’t busy,” Olivia said, changing the subject as she turned into the parking lot.

  5

  “That old fucker puts me to sleep,” Garrett said, referring to Lieutenant Lawrence Cooper as he bumped shoulders with Berkley on the way out of the roll call room.

  “Coop’s a good guy. He’s just biding his time until he retires. But, I agree, his lame jokes need some work,” Berkley replied.

  The hot sun was still high in the sky at the start of their 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. shift. Beads of sweat bubbled on her forehead as she walked across the parking lot to her squad car. She climbed in and started the engine, turning the AC dial to full blast, before getting out and checking her trunk to make sure her rifle was loaded, and her emergency bag was stocked.

  “Watch your six,” Garrett said through his open window as he pulled up behind her car.

  “You too,” she said, bumping fists with him before walking back to the driver’s side of her car. He drove away as she climbed in.

  *

  Garrett and Berkley worked in the South 5 District and patrolled two adjoining sections, so they were often each other’s backup, as well as backup to the rest of the officers in their district if there was a serious situation.

  The start of their shift was usually light, with most people getting home from work. Once the sun went down around 8:30 p.m. the calls picked up and remained heavy until around four in the morning. Weeknights were hit and miss with major calls, but the weekends kept them on their toes. Richey, Texas had a lower crime rate than the surrounding, larger cities, but they had their share of the drug trade, as well as the usual domestic calls, traffic accidents, disturbances, and so on. The police department worked in twelve hour shifts with three days on and four days off, then four days on and three days off.

  Berkley pulled off a main road and drove through a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood area called the Valley. The distinct beat of salsa music could be heard in the background and children played in the streets. She rolled her window down, waving at the little ones, as well as a few parents who were sitting out on their porches. She made it a point to make her presence known, hoping it would deter bad situations in certain areas and make the children comfortable seeing the police.

  Her computer beeped with a new call for her district. Anytime dispatch had a new call, it was automatically input into the system making it pop up on all the patrol car computers. If the call was in an officer’s district or if an officer needed back up, their computer alarm would sound, alerting them to the call, and it would come across their radio.

  The new line on the screen read: 10-21 Domestic Assault - 7768 High Ridge Rd.

  Berkley grabbed the radio mic attached to the side of the computer stand and squeezed the button with her thumb. “327—responding to High Ridge Road. I’m two blocks out.” She’d already flipped the switch for her lights and sirens and was heading to the other side of the Valley by the time she clipped the mic back in its holder.

  “414—327, you want company?” Garrett called over the radio.

  “Standby—414,” she answered back as she pulled up in front of the house. No one was outside. “327—on scene,” Berkley radioed, using the mic clipped to the shoulder strap on her uniform as she got out of her car.

  “He’s gone,” a Hispanic woman said as she opened the door.

  Berkley was still walking up the driveway. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know. The titty bar probably,” the woman huffed, crossing her arms.

  Berkley nodded. “Did he hit you?”

  “No. He just yells.”

  “We got a call about an assault. Are you sure he didn’t hit you?”

  “Yes. I would know if he hit me. I’m fine.”

  “Want to tell me what happened?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want to press charges or anything. My nosy neighbor is who called you. You can go. He’s not here.”

  There was nothing more she could do, so Berkley told her to call back if things became heated when he got home. Then, she headed back to her car. “Cancel the 10-21 on High Ridge,” she radioed before getting into her car.

  “Copy—327,” the dispatcher radioed back.

  Berkley pulled out of the Valley just before her computer alarm sounded again. This time, an accident with injuries was reported. She grabbed the mic and flipped the switch for the lights and sirens. “327—responding to the MVA on Crescent,” she said, as she sped around two cars. A third car didn’t seem to care that her lights were flashing and the sirens were wailing. “Move, asshole!” she growled before checking her mirror and screeching down the turning lane past him.

  By the time she made it to the scene, Garrett was there assessing the two vehicles. The ambulance pulled up right behind her. Berkley maneuvered her car to block traffic, routing them to the outside lane around the wreckage. Then, she climbed out and walked over to him.

  “Whatcha got, GT?”

  “Witness says this red car turned in front of the blue SUV. Driver of the car is complaining of back pain. Guy in the SUV is fine,” he said. “How’d it go with the DA?”

  “I honestly have no idea. She and her husband had an argument, I guess. He hauled ass to the titty bar, and the nosy old lady next do
or called us because they were yelling at each other outside.”

  Garrett raised a brow, then laughed. “I knew I should’ve responded with you.”

  “Yeah, well, now you have this mess to straighten out.”

  A pretty, Hispanic woman with long dark hair wrapped up in a tight bun, walked over to them. She was wearing a paramedic uniform and had a stethoscope around her neck. D. Hernandez was stenciled on her nametag. “We’re going to transport the lady in the red car,” she said.

  Garrett nodded.

  “You left dishes in the sink, by the way,” she said to him.

  Berkley laughed.

  “Oh, you don’t get off easy either. Why didn’t you tell me about this mysterious coffee incident this morning? Who is she? And what does she look like?” the woman chided, looking directly at Berkley.

  “Seriously? Do you tell her when you piss, too?” Berkley shook her head.

  Garrett shrugged and rubbed his hand over his closely shaved head. “She’s my girlfriend. I tell her everything.”

  “And I’m your best friend, at least the last time I checked,” the woman said, waiting with her arms crossed. “I need to get my patient to the hospital, so you have about thirty seconds.”

  Berkley laughed, knowing she was right. “Dena, it wasn’t anything. I don’t know who she is. She grabbed the wrong coffee and proceeded to spit it out when she took a sip…all over me, of course. We didn’t exchange information. I’ll probably never see her again.”

  “Uh huh,” Dena mumbled, checking her watch.

  “We’re ready when you are,” the other medic called from the side door of their rig.

  “I gotta go. You two be safe. I love you both,” she said before hurrying off to drive the ambulance.

  “She’s a piece of work,” Berkley chuckled.

  “She’s your best friend.”

  “So are you. But, she’s your girlfriend.”

  “You introduced me to her!” he laughed. “It’s your fault.”

  “Well, I’d suggest you wash your dishes before I have to make a domestic call to your house because she kicked your ass!” she teased.

  “Get out of here. I have work to do.”

  “Yep. Glad it’s you and not me.” She grinned and headed back over to her car to check the computer and see where she was headed to next.

  Garrett and Dena were right, they were her best friends, and they were perfect for each other. The best thing she could’ve ever done was set them up three years earlier.

  6

  “I hate road games,” Randi mumbled to herself as she pulled into a parking space in front of The Grind. Most of the team, including Olivia, was still packing for the two-day trip up to Chicago, and their flight was scheduled to leave in less than three hours.

  The door jingled as she walked in and made her way over to the counter. It was mid-morning, her favorite time to go because the early rush had come and gone.

  “Good morning,” Paul said with a big smile. “The usual?”

  “Yeah, add a chocolate chip muffin, too,” she replied. “Wait, make that two muffins.”

  “Sure thing.”

  While she waited, Randi turned around, noticing the mysterious woman from two days earlier. She was sitting at one of the small round tables, reading the newspaper.

  “Who reads the physical newspaper anymore?” Randi said, taking the seat across from her.

  Berkley folded the paper and laid it down. “I do. There’s news in here you won’t find on your phone,” she replied, grabbing her coffee cup. “Here, let me move this so that I’m not wearing it in a minute.”

  “Funny,” Randi said with a sarcastic grin.

  “Randi, you want both of the muffins chocolate chip? We have banana nut and blueberry,” Paul called as he set her coffee on the counter.

  “Chocolate is fine,” she answered as she walked over to get her coffee and the muffins, which Paul had put into a small container.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met another female named Randi,” Berkley said as she walked back over, stopping next to the table.

  “I could say the same for Berkley.”

  “My parents were in school there when they got pregnant with me,” Berkley said with a shrug.

  “Randi is short for Miranda, but I’ve been called Randi my entire life.”

  Berkley nodded as a grin spread across her face, revealing her dimples. Her playful blue eyes perused Randi’s body before landing on her eyes.

  “What?” Randi asked with a raise brow.

  “You still owe me a shirt.”

  “What? No, I don’t,” Randi guffawed.

  “How about lunch instead?”

  Randi laughed and shook her head. “I can’t. I have to catch a flight.”

  “Dinner when you get back?”

  “I’m with someone,” she said solemnly.

  “I didn’t ask you to have sex,” Berkley teased. “Go on. Have a safe flight.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you again…sometime,” Randi said before walking away. As soon as she got into her car, she looked back at the door, hoping Berkley would’ve followed her out. Damn it. What are you doing? she chastised herself as she started the engine and drove away.

  *

  Olivia’s head lulled to the side, landing on Randi’s shoulder as the plane shuddered with a bit of turbulence.

  “I don’t know how she does it,” Carrie said, from the opposite side of the aisle. The team and coaching staff were scattered around the coach section of the commercial airliner. Olivia, Randi and Carrie were lucky to be in the same row.

  “She can sleep anywhere,” Randi said, flipping through the pages of the magazine she’d purchased in the airport. She was quite used to her girlfriend falling asleep next to her. It didn’t matter if they were traveling around the world or watching TV on the couch. Olivia had no problem taking a nap.

  “I know. I’m pretty sure she’d pass out on the back of a camel crossing the desert,” Carrie laughed.

  Randi nodded in agreement.

  “Have you seen your coffee shop friend again?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have,” Randi replied nonchalantly as she sniffed the perfume sample on one of the pages and wrinkled her nose in dislike.

  “And…”

  “And what? She was there this morning. I said hi. It’s not like we’ve become best friends or are going on a date. I don’t see the big deal.” Randi closed the magazine and leaned forward to stow it in the seat pocket in front of her, forgetting about Olivia lying against her until her head slumped off her shoulder, instantly waking her.

  “Are we almost there?” Olivia asked, stretching as much as she could in the small seat.

  “Sorry, babe.” Randi smiled at her.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent into Chicago momentarily. Please return your seatbacks and tray tables to their proper position,” the flight attendant said across the speaker.

  “I guess so,” Olivia mumbled, answering her own question. She reached for her phone and took a quick selfie of her and Randi and posted it on her Instagram account with the caption: Chicago here we come! They had never publicly announced that they were together, but it was a known fact that they lived together. Most of their fans assumed they were in a relationship and had dubbed them with the hashtag #RanOli, which both women hated. Neither woman had posted or announced anything to prove otherwise in the beginning. The posted pictures of them together on and off the field, and vacationing in the off-season had only added fuel to the fire. They both had thousands of fans around the world and all over Texas who followed their social media accounts religiously. After a while, they no longer cared, and sharing their life became second nature.

  As the plane taxied to its gate, the players all took turns making silly faces or posing their fingers in a peace sign as Olivia held her phone up, making a video for her Instagram.

  Randi pushed her hair back
from her left shoulder, and twisted it into a loose bun, held together with a hair tie. Then, she stuck her magazine into the front pocket of her carry-on bag and got in line to get off the plane.

  The team was halfway through the season and looking for wins in their next two road games after having won the last two at home. They were sitting in third place in points, but it was anywhere but comfortable when the three teams below them were all tied for fourth.

  “Let’s get to the hotel and rest up. We’ll have a short training session before dinner, then spend tomorrow morning energizing and prepping for the game at three. We have a nine o’clock return flight,” Mitch said, gathering his players near the baggage claim area, although no one had checked a bag. “The bus should be outside waiting,” he added, looking at his watch before leading the way outside.

  A group of about thirty fans were near the bus, wearing the signature baby blue and yellow of Richey FC and cheering for their favorite players. They were diehard members of the fan club who traveled to every away game and led the drum line at the home games. The players always made time for their biggest supporters.

  The team wasn’t allowed to sign autographs anywhere except the field, but they always walked over to give high fives and take selfie photos, especially Randi and Olivia, whom all the lesbian fans swooned over.

  7

  Randi walked into her room, flopping down on the bed nearest the window. None of the clubs allowed players who were in a relationship to room together, so Randi and Carrie were roommates, and Olivia roomed with either Jorja or Sasha. She spread the heavy drapes. The late afternoon sunlight was trying to peek through the remainder of the dark clouds as they floated away.

  “I feel like a drowned rat,” Carrie called as she went into the bathroom. A large rainstorm had dumped water like a mini monsoon during their practice session. With no lightning in the area, they were able to continue. “I’m pretty sure we would’ve needed paddles if we’d stayed any longer,” she added.