Playing the Game

by Graysen Morgen

  “I was upstairs looking at Papás paint job on my old room,” Elisa said, rolling her hips to the beat of the music as she walked up, hugging her little sister from behind. She quickly kissed her cheek. “Carrie, good to see you.”

  “You too.” Carrie smiled. “I have no idea what it is, but it smells wonderful, Mrs. Rojas,” she said.

  “Mamá Rojas,” Pilar corrected with a smile. “Empanadas de mariscos y cazeula de vecuno,” she said, checking the oven with one hand while checking a fryer with the other.

  Randi leaned over and whispered, “Seafood patties and beef casserole.”

  Carrie’s mouth watered. She honestly didn’t care what was cooking. She’d never had a bad meal in all the numerous times she’d eaten with the Rojas family over the years. They were always kind and treated her like one of their own.

  “How’s life in the fast lane little sis?” Elisa said, leaning against the counter.

  “Same as always, I guess.”

  Elisa bobbed to the beat as the song changed to a popular Spanish hit by Ricky Martin. “Why are all the hot ones, gay?” she sighed.

  Randi laughed. Growing up, her sister had been enthralled with Ricky Martin. She had to admit he was good looking, but she knew early on that she preferred girls. “Funny, I picture you more with someone like Pitbull.”

  “Funny is right.” Elisa rolled her eyes.

  “Mamá Rojas, may I help?” Carrie asked.

  Pilar turned from the stove and shrugged. “Sí,” she said with a smile, waving her over.

  “Mamá ella no habla español,” Randi said.

  “I can speak English, Miranda,” her mother chided. “Here, Carrie. I will teach you to make leche asada for dessert.” Pilar looked back at Randi. “I wish my daughter would let me teach her to cook. Poor Olivia must starve to death.”

  Randi laughed and shook her head.

  “Come upstairs. Let me show you what Papá did to my room,” Elisa said, nudging her sister’s shoulder.

  Randi gave her an odd look.

  Elisa tilted her head sharply.

  Randi rolled her eyes and got up. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Carrie.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, enjoying her time in the kitchen.

  *

  “What’s going on with you?” Elisa said, shutting the door to the newly painted and decorated room.

  “Nothing,” Randi said, looking around. “What the hell is this?”

  “He made Mamá a yoga room.”

  Randi laughed. “I didn’t think she was that serious about it. I knew she was going with a few friends.”

  “Yeah, well, she got certified as an instructor, and now they come here. She’s even trying to get Papá to do it.”

  “Now that, I want to see,” Randi laughed.

  “How are things with your coffee friend?” Elisa asked, changing the subject.

  “Huh?”

  “The cop? You know, the person who has you wondering…”

  Randi bit the corner of her lip and sighed.

  “What happened?”

  On the way to her parent’s house, Randi told herself she wasn’t going to say anything, but she and her sister shared a keen sense. One always knew when the other needed to talk. She grabbed one of the yoga mats from the corner, unrolled it in the middle of the room, and flopped down on it. “I kissed her,” she whispered, hanging her head.

  “Oh no,” Elisa said, shaking her head as she sat down beside her.

  “It wasn’t planned. I didn’t even mean to do it…it just…happened.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Kissed me back at first, but pulled away. She knows I’m with Olivia.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “It just happened two days ago. I came straight here for camp.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Not kiss her again, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Randi, you need to think about why it happened in the first place. Are you and Olivia having problems?”

  “No. I honestly think I just got caught up in a moment. We were out on her four-wheeler, watching a mountain lion. It was so majestic…I think I got lost for a minute.”

  “Ay dios mio! A mountain lion? Where the hell were you?”

  “She and some friends own a bunch of land. They go out and ride ATVs and stuff. I took a couple of girls from the team with me. I never expected to be alone with her.”

  “Did she plan it that way?”

  “No. She’s not like that. We have a connection, but she’s not going to go there. She made it pretty clear about me dating someone.”

  “Well, that’s good. At least she’s not trying to steal you away.” Elisa looked at her sister’s eyes. “Unless…you want to be stolen away,” she said softly.

  Randi shook her head and sighed. “I think I’ve made a big deal into nothing. I need to quit beating myself up about it and move on. It was a simple kiss. It’s not like I had sex with her.”

  Elisa nodded. “Yes, but not too long ago, you told me she made you wonder. Now, you’ve kissed her.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not happening again.”

  “Okay.”

  We should probably get back down there before Mamá starts teaching Carrie yoga,” Randi said, standing up. She held her hand out to her sister and pulled her to her feet.

  *

  The next two days of training camp went off without a hitch. Carrie and Randi were both worn out from doing drill after drill and playing at least a dozen scrimmage games with various numbers of players. They both yawned as they boarded the flight to go back to Richey.

  Randi pulled one of her wireless ear pods out and shoved it in Carrie’s ear. An old Milli Vanilli song was playing on her iPhone as she danced down the aisle, looking for their seats. “Girl, you know it’s true!” she sang, “Oh, oh, oh I love you!”

  Carrie bobbed her head.

  “Get on my level!” Randi said as they sat down.

  “I’m tired,” Carrie laughed.

  “Me too!”

  “No, I think you’re more like delirious,” she teased.

  “I’ll get on your level,” a female voice said.

  Randi and Carrie looked around before the girl in front of them popped her head up over the seatback.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” Carrie mumbled.

  “Would you mind taking a selfie with me? My girlfriend and I are huge Richey fans.”

  “Sure,” Randi said, leaning over to Carrie.

  The girl held her phone out, snapping a quick photo that included the three of them. “Sweet! She’s going to die when I send this to her! Thank you!”

  “No problem,” Randi replied, looking over at Carrie with a smug grin. “My level.”

  Carrie shook her head and laughed.

  20

  Berkeley checked her watch as she turned onto one of the central streets of Richey. It was four a.m. No one else was around except for another vehicle a couple hundred yards in front of her. She watched as the truck crossed slightly over the left side lines of the lane. The driver corrected too far, pushing the vehicle over the right side, before bringing it back to the center. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, Berkeley didn’t make a move. She simply kept riding along. Less than a half-mile down the road, the truck veered over the lines again. Then, the brake lights lit up.

  “Something’s not right,” she mumbled, hitting the switch for the lights and sirens in her car.

  The truck kept riding along as if the driver hadn’t noticed the lights illuminating everything in red and blue behind him.

  “Come on, dude. Stop,” Berkeley said, pulling within two lengths behind him. “She grabbed the radio. “327—11-95; Texas: Zebra, Boy, Two, Nine, Nine, Alpha. Be advised, driver has not stopped. Possible 502,” she said, asking for a license plate check and warning of a possible DUI stop.

  “Copy—327.�
��

  The tinted windows were too dark for Berkeley to see how many occupants the truck had, making the situation a little more heated than it already was. “Come on, asshole,” she grumbled, still following one and half to two car lengths behind.

  “Vehicle is clean,” the dispatcher said over the radio.

  “327—copy. He’s stopping. 10-20 Henderson and Wickham,” she radioed back as the truck finally pulled off the road and came to a stop. She threw her car in park and got out. “Stick both hands out of the window,” she yelled, stepping to the side as she cautiously approached the vehicle. The smell of rancid alcohol permeated the air as she grew closer. “Turn your truck off,” she growled, stepping up to the open window and shining her flashlight all around the cab.

  A middle-aged white male with scruffy facial hair was the only person she saw.

  “Why are you bothering me?” he mumbled, then added a few more words she couldn’t comprehend.

  “I’m Officer Ward with Richey Police Department. I need your license and registration.”

  “I don’t have to give you anything. I have rights.”

  “Sir, have you been drinking this morning?”

  “Have you?” he asked.

  “327—request assistance to my location,” she radioed. “Come on out of the truck,” she said, pulling the door open.

  “What? Why? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Come on. Let’s have a talk back here,” she said, ushering him towards the back of the truck in front of her patrol car. Then, she patted him down and found his license, which she called in, before going through a battery of drunk driver field tests, all of which he failed.

  A few minutes later, another patrol car pulled up behind hers. The officer walking up was brown-skinned and bald, with a mustache and goatee. The muscles in his biceps bulged against his uniform, which looked similar to Berkeley’s, except he had the silver chevron strips indicating he was a sergeant.

  “Whatcha got, Ward?”

  “Failed sobriety check,” she said.

  He nodded and stepped over to the man. “I’m Sergeant Jones with Richey PD,” he said, shining his light up to see the man’s pupils.

  “She just did the same thing with me. I’m not touching my nose or walking in a line again. I told her my balance was bad,” the man spat, crossing his arms. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “I’m going to grab my breathalyzer unit,” Sergeant Jones, said, walking away.

  Berkeley caught the man before he tumbled down into the ditch when he took a wobbly step back.

  “Your balance doesn’t matter when you blow into this,” Sergeant Jones said, returning and handing him the tube. “Put your mouth on the end and blow out nice and easy.”

  “If this will get you two to leave me the hell alone…fine!”

  Berkeley watched the numbers climb until it beeped at .14.

  “Sir, you blew nearly twice the legal limit. How much have you had to drink this morning?”

  “It’s not morning. It’s still dark out, dumbass.” The man shook his head. “Me and the old lady got into it and I went for a drive.”

  “How much have you drank?” he asked again.

  “Hell, I don’t know. Three, maybe six.” He shook his head.

  Sergeant Jones nodded for Berkeley to proceed.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” she said as she began cuffing him. “You’re under arrest for Driving Under the Influence of Alcohol,” she continued as she read him his rights, then helped him sit on the ground so he didn’t hurt himself.

  “You don’t have a cage in your car, do you?”

  “No,” she replied, grabbing the radio attached to her shoulder strap. “327—10-15. Requesting 10-16.”

  “Copy—327. Transport unit is en route.”

  Sergeant Jones checked his watch. Their shift was almost over. “When are you going to come over to the dark side?” he asked, referring to the SWAT Team, where he was a team leader.

  “I don’t know. Maybe one day.” She grinned.

  “When you’re ready. I’ll put in a good word.”

  “Thanks,” she said, waving as he walked back towards his car when the transfer car arrived to take the drunk man to jail.

  *

  Traffic was much heavier at eight a.m. as Berkeley maneuvered through the back streets on her motorcycle. She rolled to a stop in front of The Grind and backed into a parking spot, unaware of the white BMW parked a few spaces away. It had been a long night and she needed something to pick her up before she met Garrett for a lifting session at the gym.

  “I was wondering when I’d see you again,” a familiar voice said as Berkley killed the engine.

  She turned her head and grinned. “Hey, you,” she said as she climbed off the machine and slid her hat on backward.

  Randi got out of the car. A smile lit up her face as Berkley walked over to her. Fire burned in her belly as Randi gave her a light hello hug.

  “How was…uh, the thing you went to?” Berkley asked, trying to clear the fog from her brain. She hadn’t expected Randi to hug her, and it took her a second to recover.

  Randi laughed. “National team training camp.”

  “That’s it. How did it go?” Berkley asked.

  “Fine. The same as usual, I guess. It’s a bunch of training drills and meetings. It’s actually quite boring,” she chuckled. “I did get you something though,” she added, reaching into the backseat of her car. “I had to guess the size, but hopefully it’s good enough to replace the one I ruined,” she said, handing Berkley a new white Nike shirt.

  Berkley checked the size and held it up. Randi has guessed right. “Wow. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

  Randi shrugged. “Nike sponsors the national team, so it wasn’t a big deal for me to get it. Besides, I felt horrible, and it’s the least I could do after you took us out riding with your friends.”

  “Thank you,” Berkley said with a smile as she tossed it over her shoulder.

  “You know, Sasha hasn’t stopped talking about that day…or you for that matter.”

  Berkley nodded. “She’s cute. Maybe I should ask her out sometime,” she said, holding the door open for Randi. “She is single, right?”

  “Yeah, go for it,” Randi mumbled, shrugging and walking past her. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but there was nothing she could do. She had no claim to Berkley and no say in who she dated.

  *

  “I needed this,” Berkley said, taking a long swig of her iced coffee.

  “Long night?” Randi asked.

  “Something like that. I’m pretty sure my last shift caused a few grey hairs to come in.”

  Randi shrugged. “I don’t see any.”

  “One chocolate chip muffin,” Paul said, handing Randi a small brown bag.

  “I better go feed the beast or practice will be Hell today,” she said with a grin.

  “Why doesn’t she ever come here with you?” Berkley asked.

  “She’s not a coffee drinker,” Randi said with a shrug.

  Berkley nodded, smiling as she watched her leave. I’m right where I want to be, and in the wrong place at the same time. She shook her head.

  *

  “Trouble in paradise?” Garrett said, breaking through the clouds filling Berkley’s head.

  Huh?” she muttered.

  “You look lost in thought.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

  “Uh, huh. Are you sure that soccer player doesn’t have you all twisted up?”

  “What?” She shook her head and tossed her sweat towel at him. “No,” she sighed. “I ran into Jones this morning. He hinted that I should put in for SWAT.”

  “Really?”

  She straddled the bench and sat down. “Yeah.”

  “Wow. I know how bad you want SWAT.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s h
olding you back?”

  “Honestly…nothing, I guess.” She shrugged. “Women don’t exactly get invited to join SWAT.”

  “You’re not women. You’re a badass, and anyone in this department would give their life for you and vice versa.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get caught up in that female/male bullshit. You’ve never been like that before. Why start now?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Good. Is it too early for a cold beer?”

  “Nope,” she said with a grin. “My house or yours?”

  “Dena’s asleep. She just got off shift, so yours…unless you want to face the wrath of a sleepy Mexican.”

  “Nope. Been there, done that.” She shook her head.

  Garrett laughed and smacked her on the back. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  *

  Randi wiped sweat from her brow as she dribbled the ball at her feet, looking for a clear shot on goal. It was a small-side practice game, but she still gave it her all when she cleared Jorja, who was defending her. The inside of her foot caught the sweet spot on the ball, sending it sailing through the air. Olivia had anticipated the shot and dove to her right side, but the ball curled at the last second, narrowly missing her hands as it flew into the back of the net. Randi jumped up and down yelling and fist-pumping the air. Olivia shook her head in Randi’s direction and threw the ball over to the assistant coach, who was running the practice game.

  “Let’s call it a day. It’s hot as hell out here. MJ wants to go over game film before we leave today, so hit the showers,” he said.

  “That was a killer shot!” Jorja exclaimed. “I thought I had you, but you slipped past me.”

  “She has the best footwork on the team,” Sasha said. “She’s crossed me up several times. You have to watch the ball, not her feet.”

  “No kidding,” Jorja laughed.

  “So, who has the winning score between the two of you?” Sasha asked, knowing how competitive they were when facing each other.

  “Who?” Randi asked.

  “You and Olivia.”