Playing the Game

by Graysen Morgen

  “You look a lot better,” Randi said, eyeing her face where the bruising and stitches had been. There was a faint scar line above her brow.

  Berkley nodded.

  “Let me guess, it wasn’t a golf cart accident and had more to do with this,” she said, gesturing to the uniform. “I had no idea you were a cop.”

  “Yes, it really was a golf cart accident. I was trying to stop a deranged old man who was trying to run people down, and who knew you were a soccer player?”

  “Pretty much the whole state,” Randi laughed.

  Berkley smiled and shrugged. “I guess I’ve been out of the loop,” she replied as her eyes moved past Randi to the couple of players standing nearby, watching their exchange.

  “I gotta go, but hopefully I’ll see you after.”

  “I’ll be here until the place clears out, for the next six games anyway.”

  Randi smiled before trotting off to catch up to her team.

  *

  “Um…who’s the hot cop?” Sasha questioned as Randi walked into the locker room.

  “I know her from the coffee shop,” Randi replied.

  “Is she single?” Sasha asked. “Hell, who cares.” She grinned.

  “What?” Carrie mumbled, confused.

  “Randi happens to know the sexy ass cop in the tunnel,” Sasha said as she stripped out of her training shirt. “Apparently I need to start going with you to get coffee.”

  “Wait…that’s your coffee friend?” Carrie raised a brow. She too had noticed the attractive officer and the fact that Randi had never mentioned what she looked like.

  Randi nodded as she changed into her jersey. “I didn’t know she was a cop until I saw her just now.”

  “Looks like a vigilante to me,” Carrie mumbled under her breath, bumping shoulders with Randi.

  “You have to introduce me so I can peel that uniform off one layer at a time,” Sasha said with a catcall whistle.

  Randi shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Shall I go invite her in here, or are we going to go play our game?” Olivia growled with annoyance. She’d been late coming into the locker room and heard the girls talking about the hot police officer. The fact that Randi knew her wasn’t a big deal. She was more angered by the fact that they had a game to play and no one was focused. When she finally had everyone’s attention, she went into her captain’s speech, lifting the team up and refocusing their energy.

  After that, the players who weren’t starting made their way out to the bench, and the starters lined up in the tunnel with the Houston players, each holding a child’s hand as they prepared to walk out.

  Randi smiled quickly at Berkley, who was standing outside of the tunnel near the sideline wall.

  *

  The players lined up as the starter’s names were announced. The crowd cheered for each home player, but got twice as loud for their favorites, including number four, Randi Rojas. The national anthem played, then the players dispersed to their sidelines for last-minute talks. Berkley still couldn’t believe that the person on the field was the same Randi. She looked nothing like the girl in the coffee shop. Gone were the jeans and snapback she was used to seeing. Instead, Randi’s hair was up in a ponytail, and she was wearing a baby blue jersey and shorts, with knee-high white socks and neon yellow and orange cleats. Randi Rojas. The name bounced around inside her head.

  As the teams took the field, Berkley found it hard to concentrate on the crowd. Her eyes kept searching the grass for number four. She didn’t have to look hard. Five minutes into the game the crowd went wild as Randi worked her way past two defenders to score a goal.

  “Damn,” she mumbled, taken aback. She’d never been interested in going to a women’s pro soccer game, but from the game going on in front of her, she definitely saw the appeal. Both teams played hard, hip checking each other, slide tackling, and blatantly fouling. The loud cheering of the fans never seemed to lull.

  *

  When Richey returned to the field after halftime they were up two to zero with both Randi and Jorja having scored. Sasha took a long hard look at Berkley as she walked by, causing Randi to shake her head and laugh. The players quickly took the field and the ref blew the whistle, starting the second half.

  Houston started the ball with a drive through the middle of the field before making a wide pass outside to a player who took it down to the corner. A Richey defender was all over her, trying to get to the ball. The Houston player kicked a hard pass that soared through the air. Sasha body checked the receiving player when they both went up for the header. The ref blew the whistle for the foul and immediately pulled the yellow card from her pocket, showing it to Sasha, who quickly complained but laughed it off as she ran over to her position. The Houston player started the ball again from the spot where she was fouled, quickly kicking it into the box. Olivia leapt into the air, catching the ball easily. Then, she drop-kicked it, sending it forward to Jorja, who crossed it to Carrie.

  A Houston defender pushed Carrie deep into the corner, but she was able to outmaneuver her and get a cross off in front of the box. Randi nearly did a split in midair, stretching as far as she could to connect her foot to the ball and send it into the back corner of the net for another goal.

  The crowd went wild once more, banging drums, popping smoke sticks that sent light blue smoke billowing from the end of the stadium in the section behind the goal, and waving giant flags back and forth. Berkley was surprised at how involved the fans were. It was like watching the twelfth man at an NFL game as the stadium buzzed with energy.

  *

  The game eventually came to an end after two minutes of overtime. The Richey players gathered in the middle of the field to do a quick stretch before going over to the section near the tunnel to sign autographs. The Houston players walked around signing jerseys for their fans before retreating to the locker room.

  A few minutes later, most of the Richey players made their way towards the tunnel, including Randi, who stopped in front of Berkley.

  “Will you be here for a little bit?” she asked.

  “Central 6—EMS Code 3 inside Richey Stadium. Requesting assistance. 327—what is your 10-20?” the dispatcher radioed.

  Berkley quickly grabbed her shoulder mic and pressed the button as her eyes scanned the stands. “327—copy. On scene, responding code 3,” she said as she took off running towards the people waving their arms in the next section. She scaled the three-foot wall easily and moved up the stairs to a woman who was lying unconscious. “Everyone, get back,” she said, moving into full EMT mode and kneeling down next to her to check for a pulse. She pressed her hands together under the woman’s breasts and began compressions.

  One, two, three, four, five, six seven, eight, nine, ten, breathe. She counted over and over in her head as she performed CPR. “What happened? Does she have any medical conditions?” she asked as she compressed the stranger’s chest.

  “No…not that I know of. She grabbed her chest and fell over,” another woman said. She stood nearby with a stone-cold stare on her face that Berkley knew well. She was in shock.

  It took almost two minutes for one of the EMTs to get to that side of the stadium. The other had gone to bring the ambulance around to the closest gate. Berkley had restored the woman’s pulse, but it was weak and her breaths were labored. She went to work helping the EMT until the other medic showed up.

  *

  Randi’s heart pounded out of her chest as she watched the scene in the stands from her position near the tunnel entrance. She had no idea what was going on, but she could tell Berkley was down on her knees helping someone.

  “Randi, you’re needed in the locker room,” one of the assistant coaches said, walking up to her from inside the tunnel.

  “Someone in the stands is hurt,” she replied.

  “Emergency services will take care of it.”

  “I’m not going back there right now,” she growled, watching
in amazement as Berkley continued assisting once the EMTs arrived.

  The assistant coach waited nearby but didn’t say anything.

  As soon as the person was wheeled away on a gurney, Berkley walked back down the stairs and hopped over the wall to enter the field. She was surprised to see Randi walking towards her. The stadium was completely empty.

  “What happened?”

  “Looks like a heart attack, but they won’t know until they get her to the hospital.”

  “Did you just save her life?” Randi asked.

  “Probably.” Berkley nodded. “I was an EMT before I became a police officer. I ride with the fire station a couple times a year to keep my certification up to date.”

  “Seriously?” Randi mumbled, completely awestruck.

  “You can pick your jaw up. It’s not like I said I used to be the president,” Berkley laughed.

  Randi smiled. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “I can say the same for you.”

  “Randi, you have to get moving. You’ve already missed the team meeting,” the assistant coach urged.

  “Go on.” Berkley winked. “Great game by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Randi said, still smiling as she walked away.

  *

  “Where have you been?” Olivia asked, coming out of the shower area and into the locker room, toweling her hair.

  “A fan had a heart attack and nearly died in the stands. I watched the cop save her life,” she said, sitting down and removing her cleats.

  “Oh my God! Are you serious?” Carrie gasped.

  “Wait. Cop? The cop?” Sasha questioned in the middle of dressing.

  “The one I know, yes.”

  “Get out. She saved someone?”

  Randi nodded. “Apparently, she used to be an EMT.”

  “A jack of all trades and she’s smoking hot,” Sasha said, sounding completely smitten.

  Randy laughed and shook her head. “I’m ready when you are. I’ll shower at home,” she said to Olivia, watching her toss her wet towel into the bin and slick her hair back with a brush.

  They quickly said goodbye and headed out of the stadium. Berkley was long gone, but Randi glanced around for the police car anyway.

  “I need to eat.”

  “Me too,” Randi replied. She wanted nothing more than to go take a long hot shower, but her stomach was growling.

  “Chinese delivery?” Olivia suggested as they got into her SUV.

  “Fine with me.”

  “So, how well do you know this cop?”

  “I didn’t know she was a cop…at least not until I saw her tonight. She’s the chic I spit coffee all over a month ago.”

  Olivia laughed. “I remember that.”

  “I see her at The Grind from time to time. We always say hi and chit chat a little. I honestly barely know her other than her name is Berkley and she has a sportbike.”

  “Like the college or city?”

  “Both, I think. Her parents met there while going to school.”

  “Mine didn’t meet in college, but they went to Brock and Carleton, so I would’ve been screwed either way,” Olivia laughed.

  “I could’ve been Houston,” Randi chuckled.

  “Go ahead and call in the order for dinner. That place takes forever.”

  Agreeing, Randi searched Google for the number to Peking Duck while Olivia navigated the light traffic. They lived across town, so what was a twenty-minute drive could easily turn into forty-five if traffic was heavy.

  13

  Berkley’s riding zone had been quiet most of the evening, so when she met up with Garrett around midnight for what was considered their lunch, she’d only had three calls. Their cars were facing opposite directions and parked so that the driver’s sides were a little over a foot apart with the windows rolled down.

  “How was duty at the soccer game?” he asked with a mouthful of food.

  “Not bad,” she replied. “You’ll never believe this. Do you remember the girl from the coffee shop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s on the team.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  “Wait, you didn’t already know this?”

  “Nope. I don’t even know her. We’ve talked here and there, but nothing concrete.” She grabbed her phone and Googled Randi’s name. Several pictures came up, including a ton of them with another player from the team who was a little taller, with shorter, dark hair. Berkley raised a brow at some of the social media tags attached to the photos. She’d always thought Randi was with a guy, but maybe she wasn’t. She’d have to investigate further when she had time. “This is her,” she said, clicking on one of the pictures of Randi alone.

  “Wow. She’s beautiful,” he said, leaning closer to get a better look. “Is she Latina?”

  “I don’t know. Her last name is Rojas, so maybe.”

  Garrett pursed his lips. “She looks exotic, like Brazilian or something.”

  “Either way, she’s in a relationship, so we’re just friends, and honestly, we’re not even that. We’re more like acquaintances.”

  “Uh-huh.” He grinned.

  “Smartass,” she muttered as their computers beeped simultaneously with a new active call.

  “Shit!” he said, seeing code 211 for an armed robbery in progress.

  “327—responding to the active 211,” she radioed, then heard Garrett do the same as she threw her car in drive and took off down the street.

  At that time of night, there weren’t many cars on the road. Berkley pushed her car past eighty MPH. They were only going four miles away, but Garrett stayed right behind her.

  “327-414. Code 2,” she radioed to Garrett before slowing and turning off her lights and sirens.

  “Copy,” he said, turning off his lights and sirens. “414—South 5. Do we have a description on the suspect?”

  “Advise—327, 414; there are two reported male suspects in the unoccupied home. Owners are out of town. Neighbor is on the line with 911. One suspect was seen carrying an unidentified weapon.”

  “Copy,” they both radioed back.

  Berkley turned down the street for the address and parked a few houses down. Garrett pulled up behind her.

  “327—on scene with 414. Clear channel and roll another unit to our location,” she radioed into the mic attached to her shoulder. “You go to the front. I’m going to go around back,” she said to Garrett.

  “Roger,” he replied, pulling his gun from the holster. The street was dark with minimal lighting, and there were no lights on in the house.

  Berkley held her gun out in front of her with the attached flashlight scanning the ground in front of her as she made her way around the side of the single-story home. Her chest tightened with adrenaline when she saw the broken window which was obviously their point of entrance.

  “327—found the POE. Bedroom window on the west side of the house is broken,” she radioed, adding, “I’m at the back door. Garrett call them out on my count of three. One, two, three!” Then she yelled, “Police! Come out with your hands up!”

  The sound of smashing glass came from the other side of the house. Garrett tried to get the front door open while Berkley moved quickly around the house. A man in jeans and a black t-shirt jumped out of the window and took off running. She holstered her gun as she took off after him.

  “327—South 5. One suspect fled from the side window. Foot pursuit heading east towards Loop Street,” she radioed breathless as she sprinted towards the chain link fence she saw him climb over. She grabbed the top bar and whisked herself over the fence in one swift motion. He was halfway over the second section of the fence when she grabbed him. The man fell back to the ground and immediately jumped up, tackling her. The two of them rolled around scuffling in the dirt as he fought to get her gun from the holster on her side. Berkley was every bit as strong as the man and wound up on top of him, f
ighting to keep his arm away from her gun with her right hand while her left-hand reared back and clocked him across the jaw. His head snapped to the side, but he kept fighting. She kneed him in the ribs, then punched him again. They rolled once more like two locked up wrestlers. He swung at her face, but missed, hitting her shoulder.

  “Stop fighting me, you piece of shit!” she yelled, hitting him a third time when she wound up back on top.

  The final hit must’ve hurt enough because the arm he was using to go for the gun went limp. Berkley was able to wrestle him to his stomach. “Give me your goddamn hands!” she yelled, grabbing his arms to cuff him.

  Suddenly, Garrett showed up and dove on the ground with his knee on the guy’s head. He helped her twist the man’s arms around so that she could cuff him. Then, Berkley rolled to the side while Garrett went through his pockets.

  “Punta!” he screamed in Berkley’s direction, squirming like a worm and still trying to fight.

  She ignored him as she caught her breath and stood up.

  “327—suspect in custody,” she radioed.

  Garrett read him his rights, then pulled a handful of jewelry out of one pocket and a switchblade knife out of the other.

  A police cruiser sped down the road with the lights going and came to a stop in front of the house they were located at. Hearing the commotion in their backyard, the homeowners rushed outside.

  “Go back inside. We’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out,” Berkeley said, ushering them back in.

  The newest officer on scene, Rod Bowman, tossed the suspect into the back of his car. “You okay, Ward? You look like you went through a war zone.”

  “I’m good,” she said not realizing she was covered in dirt and grass. “Did you get the second suspect?” she asked, looking at Garrett.

  “Yeah. He came out with his hands up after the other guy fled. Another unit arrived just as I was cuffing him, so I handed him off and went looking for you.”

  “What a mess,” she sighed, shaking her head.