Kick Back

by K J

  “Oh. I’m not drinking tonight. I’m riding.”

  J’aann’s eyebrows shot up. “Horse, bicycle, or nubile woman with a strap-on?”

  Sophia coughed violently, her eyes watering immediately.

  “Sophia rides a Vespa called Flo. Flo and I have a thing,” said Cam, a wicked smile on her lips.

  “Cool! Well, nice to meet you, Sophia.” J’aann danced away, and Sophia turned to Cam, who squeezed her hand.

  “They are both enormously fun, enormously kind people, and completely bonkers,” Cam stated seriously, then laughed along with Sophia. She cast her other arm out. “So, over there in the red shirt is Mark, J’aann’s boyfriend. Next to him in the green is Nikki, and in the lighter green is Kate, who are both people I’ve known for quite a while but not well. Gabriella in the pink, and Angel in the not-quite pink are both friends of Francine. Angel is hoping to be more than a friend, but Francine is clueless so J’aann and I are dropping hints.” Cam glanced at Sophia, who gave her a nod and an encouraging smile so she’d continue.

  It didn’t worry Sophia that she’d probably forget everyone’s names by the time she actually met them, because listening to Cam was one of her favourite activities. The fact that Cam had recognised her anxiety and made this small gesture filled her heart. “Over near the TV is Colin. He’s the black shirt, and his partner is Arjun, who is the guy in the waistcoat. They’re our neighbours.” She pointed her finger to the ceiling. “Next floor. They’re talking to J’aann’s friends, Jac hessian top, Sky stripy polo, Leslie tartan pants, and Keely black boob tube.” Cam subtly moved their bodies so they faced the lounge room windows, currently shuttered from the night by stark white blinds. Sophia enjoyed the warmth of the hip to shoulder contact that the movement provided. “And hanging about near the dining table…” Cam hummed. “In various shades of blue are five lovely people from my yoga class, but they’re moving and concentrating on food so we’ll get to them later.” Sophia watched fascinated as Cam delivered that last line while twisting and pulling on one of her recalcitrant curls. It was like her hair was an organic fidget spinner. It was delightful. They stared at each other for a moment, then a voice broke the spell.

  “I’m really glad you invited me, Cam. I haven’t been this uncomfortable for a long time.” Cam obviously recognised the monotone voice, because she laughed and turned to a slim woman dressed in faded jeans, terracotta-coloured skivvy and a denim jacket one shade darker than her jeans. Her mop of brown hair hung loosely over her ears and brushed her collar. She was rather nondescript.

  “I’m really glad you came, Bianca. You say stuff like that, but you’re all bluff.” A small, mischievous smirk made an appearance on Bianca’s face, then she turned her attention to Sophia, and thrust her hand out.

  “Bianca.”

  Sophia shook the woman’s hand. “Sophia.” A little niggle of recognition poked at her mind. She couldn’t place her, but Sophia was sure she’d seen Bianca before. She slid a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear as that thought buzzed annoyingly in her brain.

  “You’re Sophia. Hmm. Cam’s mentioned you frequently.” Then she gazed at the joined hands. “Are you Cam’s girlfriend now?”

  “Ah…” Sophia faltered, unable to label what it was that she and Cam were.

  “I’m Sophia’s friend.” Cam threw Bianca an evil grin. “But we kiss. A lot.”

  Bianca nodded, not reacting at all. “Oh cool. Like a friends-with-benefits thing.”

  Cam hummed. “Well, the whole package hasn’t been offered yet.”

  Sophia blushed, and sent her gaze about the room, bringing it back to catch Bianca’s smirk, which seemed to be a recurring facial expression. She decided to jump into the driver’s seat of the conversation.

  “How do you know Cam?”

  “She and I work together at The Post.”

  “On the same type of stories?”

  Bianca tipped her head from side to side. “More or less.” She fired off a quick question before Sophia could respond. “How’s the season going?”

  “Well, it looks like, after today, that we’re in the first round of the finals next week, which is terrific,” said Sophia, warming to the conversation. Cam’s hand still felt wonderful clasped in her own.

  “Hope it’s been smooth sailing for you this season,” Bianca asked innocently.

  “Hardly. God, it’s been shit. Don’t get me wrong. The matches have been great, but so much other stuff about the season has been frustrating.” Sophia blew out a breath. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear about—”

  “Try me.”

  Sophia blinked. “Well, okay. Um, take for example just the other week. I got into an argument with Dominic—” Bianca’s raised eyebrow had Cam jumping into the conversation.

  “Sophia’s team manager.” Sophia smiled into Cam’s eyes.

  “Yes. Anyway, I wanted to have a fun footy day for the shelter kids—”

  “Hart Street Women and Girls Shelter. Sophia is a volunteer there.” Cam beamed, her eyes crinkling, and Sophia laughed.

  “Anyway, I wanted to give the kids a fun day, where they could play some football games, have a lunch, get some free gear. It should have been an easy yes, but Dominic completely blocked it. Said it was the wrong publicity.” She flicked her index and middle fingers of her free hand into the air to quote the last two words. Bianca bared her teeth.

  “Sounds like a right knob.”

  Sophia laughed. “He is, kind of. So I asked him if he thought the right type was the type of crap publicity that’s been going on, like Cam’s stories—” She winced and slid her gaze to Cam. “Sorry.”

  Cam waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, they are. Believe me.”

  “Okay, well, I said the publicity like we’ve been having is guaranteed to trivialise our sport, then no-one will want to be involved with it, and then we won’t get another season.”

  Bianca’s eyes glittered and Sophia had the distinct feeling of being x-rayed.

  “Hmm. Sounds shitty. You’ve got a board that’s keeping an eye on things, though?”

  Sophia sighed. “Yes, but I’m not sure—” She cut herself off, and thinned her lips. “I reckon if we focus on the games, then we’ll have a great couple of weeks that are left of this season. And hopefully next season will turn out a bit better for everyone, particularly for the rookies.”

  Bianca tipped her head. “Why?”

  “Because they believe in a women’s football competition where the players are seen as professionals, they’re treated professionally, and that young girls will see their own dreams and aspirations represented in real life.” Sophia exhaled and felt Cam’s soft squeeze in her hand. “I think some have started to not see that future.” Sophia’s stomach burned.

  Bianca nodded slowly. “You believe that too, don’t you?” Her monotone voice had softened.

  “Yeah.” There was a moment, then Bianca made a fist with one hand and patted her other hand flat across the top, as if the quick gesture indicated the end of the topic.

  “So, yellow food, hey?”

  Sophia enjoyed the next few hours engaging with most of the party goers, particularly Mark, who, she discovered, was an avid football fan and Wests supporter. Cam gave Sophia up as a lost cause about ten minutes into the conversation and disappeared to chat with everyone else. Every now and then, they’d catch each other’s eye and smile; Cam’s cheeky and mischievous, Sophia’s full of flirt. It was a heady combination.

  The yellow food turned out to be a hit, much to J’aan’s delight, who, when Sophia was lifting her jacket from the coat rack as she and Cam made their way to the door later in the night, shimmied up to Sophia’s left shoulder. She breathed bourbon and cola fumes into Sophia’s face.

  “You are lovely,” she exclaimed, her speech slightly slurred. “And your body is to die for. Trust me. I’m a massage therapist. I know bodies.” She blinked blearily at Cam. “I love you, Cam.”

  Cam tipped up on her toes and kissed J�
�aann’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

  J’aann smiled wetly. “Aw. I’m such a soppy drunk.” She swung her head around to Sophia, missed the stopping point, then brought her gaze back and refocused. “What type of drunk are you, Soph?”

  “I don’t get—” She cut off her own sentence, because yes, she did get drunk, or used to. Spectacularly, fall-down, awful hangover-from-hell drunk. “I’m an introspective, melancholy, deeply depressed drunk, which is why I don’t get drunk anymore.”

  That seemed to pause the conversation, and Sophia felt guilty for bringing the tone down, so she pulled J’aann to her. “I loved meeting you, too. Drink lots of water and take some pain killers.” Before she could pull away, J’aann seemed to instantly sober and murmured into Sophia’s ear. “Please look after her. She’s very special.” J’aann leaned back, beamed fuzzily at Sophia’s left shoulder, and staggered off. Sophia watched her go, then sliding her hand into Cam’s, made her way down the stairs to Flo.

  “I had a great time. Thank you.” Sophia unclipped her helmet, and rested it on the moped’s seat. She faced Cam, then stepped into her space. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, taking great delight in the noticeable flush that drifted up the skin of Cam’s neck. Cam’s eyes, already a dark brown in the muted lighting from the foyer behind them, turned almost black. She pulled her lips slightly apart, sending out the very tip of her tongue to moisten her bottom lip. Sophia’s breath caught, and her stomach did a slow roll, like one of those mini wave machines. They leaned in, moving their heads so that their mouths could open and fit exactly together. Sophia slid her tongue against Cam’s, coaxing a whimper from her throat, as they tasted and slipped together, and her hands developed a life of their own, fisting into Cam’s hair at the back of her neck. Their mouths pulled and pushed, catching each other’s bottom lips with tiny nibbles, and Sophia was riding a wave of arousal—no, a tsunami. A tsunami of arousal, and there she was, that little surfer sliding down the face, with everybody watching the YouTube clip saying “Woah. What a ride, dude.” She broke away, breathing hard.

  “God, you’re incredible.” Sophia gazed at Cam, then a grin fell onto her lips, as Cam wrenched her glasses off, and glared at the lenses, which were completely fogged.

  “One of the hazards,” she said ruefully, holding the glasses at arm’s length as the lenses cleared.

  Sophia’s thumbs brushed over Cam’s eyebrows and swept down her temples, making the most of the opportunity while the glasses were absent from Cam’s face. This woman in front of her was steadily removing bricks from Sophia’s protective wall and it was both exciting and terrifying.

  “You’re so pretty,” Sophia said, her lips arranged in a crooked smile. She delivered another quick kiss to Cam’s mouth. “I’ll see you later.” She turned to Flo, dropped the helmet onto her head, and started the engine. “I hope you like the present.”

  Later that night, a text pinged into her phone, as she settled under the covers in her bedroom. She rolled across and flipped the phone around on the nightstand. Accompanying the quite beautiful words of gratitude, the sexy innuendos, the yummy not-innuendos-at-all, and the series of heart emojis was a photo of Cam’s slim fingers holding the silver pen. Sophia stared at the photo, appreciating how well the pen fit in Cam’s hand, and wondered what it would feel like to have those fingers dip into the place where Sophia needed them most.

  “I like you, Cam. A whole lot.” Sophia confessed the words, whispering them into the air, hoping they’d find a home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Lift.”

  Mel’s muttered word drifted from behind Sophia’s head as she lay on the black vinyl-covered bench in the gym. Mel’s fingers hovered under the bar when Sophia pushed up, locked her elbows for a moment, then lowered the eighty-five kilograms to her chest. Craig had announced that he was accelerating the team’s work this week, stringing together five evenings of gym, trainings, motivational videos, and reflections, all in a final push to Saturday’s game. Tonight—Monday—was gym night. The metallic ping and clunk of equipment permeated the large space. It was officially the men’s gym, but the women had been given access during the evenings. Sophia ground her teeth.

  “Press,” she grunted, pre-empting Mel’s call, and heaved the bar to the ceiling, then felt Mel guide it to the rack. It wasn’t the evening access that grated on Sophia’s nerves. Because of all their work commitments, the evenings were the only times that the women’s team was able to get together anyway. Sophia braced her hands. No, what pissed her off the most was the patronising permission that Dominic, as club manager, had given the players, like he’d bestowed a gift upon them, rather than extending entry to the facility as equal members of the club.

  “Lift.”

  It seemed the sexism this season had increased alarmingly, with Dominic’s attitude and behaviour, unbelievably, worse than last year.

  “Press.”

  Sophia pushed out a breath as she drove the bar away from her chest, and Mel quietly settled the weight on the rack. Combined with the scheduling of matches on second-rate grounds, Cam’s fluffy stories, and the glamour photographs of some of the players who possessed physical features more in line with society’s idea of models, it felt like an unknown force was working against them this year.

  “Lift.”

  She didn’t know who to trust. Certainly not Dominic. The board was distant, and seemed disengaged, despite the very reason for their existence was to represent the actual league they’d been appointed to. And it twisted Sophia’s stomach that she was even doubting whether Craig was completely on their side.

  “Press.”

  “Rack.”

  Of course he was. They wouldn’t be sitting second on the ladder going into Saturday’s preliminary final if Craig hadn’t put his heart and soul into coaching the team. Sophia shook out her arms, feeling the satisfying burn across her chest and shoulders.

  “Lift.”

  The vitamin situation was awful as well. Sophia was still coming to terms with the idea that the rookies were getting kickbacks for trying out the pills. Sophia and Cam had spent yesterday on the phone tossing around the implications of the whole mess, and Cam’s final comments bit into her thoughts. Had the pharmaceutical company cleared the vitamin testing with the top executive board of the AFL, and if not, what were Lawrence, Carmichael, Dennis and Dominic getting out of it? That question and the bar weighed heavily on her chest, and she waited for Mel’s call. Which didn’t come, because when she rolled her head back to peer upside-down at the rookie, she found Mel, her sturdy body ramrod-straight, staring at the door.

  “Press,” Sophia grunted, shoving the bar up. It wavered in the air. “Fuck. Rack.” There was a pause. “Rack, Mel. Jesus!” Suddenly, hands grasped the bar and plonked it into the metal hooks. Hauling her body up, Sophia straddled the bench, then bunched her eyebrows together, and gazed disconcertingly at her team mate. “You okay?”

  Mel pinched the bridge of her nose, then grimaced at Sophia, her eyes apologetic.

  “Sorry. Got distracted.”

  She tipped her chin towards the door of the gym. Sophia twisted her body and studied the small group just inside the room. Dominic, in all his dishevelled splendour, was talking animatedly to—Sophia wracked her memory for the name—Helena, wearing a leather skirt, and sleeveless red blouse, who panned the room, her mouth lifted in a half-smile. The red heels that Sophia had seen Helena in last time enhanced her calves and with a quick glance at the team, Sophia could see that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. The speed of Fitz’s bicep curls had increased. The pair strolled through the back of the gym, and most of the players progressed through their sets with little regard to focus or concentration, as they surreptitiously tracked Dominic and Helena’s movements.

  Sophia quickly paid attention to Mel, who looked very much like a soldier at the end of their barracks bed waiting for inspection. Confusion nipped at her thoughts, so she whipped her head around and found Hara, Louise
, Naomi, and Leigh, who had joined the team to work on her upper body, while her leg was out of action. All four were frozen, carefully not making eye contact with Helena, as she meandered her way through the players and the various pieces of equipment. Helena held the gaze of any player who looked her way, except the rookies. She seemed to be deliberately ignoring them as much as they were attempting invisibility. Inspecting each woman—they were all clad in sports bras and shorts—like offerings at a buffet, Helena’s eyes narrowed as they connected with Sophia’s, and a predatory smile twisted onto her lips. Helena introduced a slight hip roll to her walk, and down the other end of the gym Fitz dropped her hand weight.

  An explosion quickly occurred in Sophia’s head as two dots suddenly connected. On the day of her injury, Leigh had mentioned Helena’s name and told her family that it was all Helena’s fault. What was all Helena’s fault? She threw a look at Leigh, who was pointedly gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the gym. A pair of red heels and a leather skirt stopped in front of Sophia’s bench, and she lifted her head slowly, her gaze travelling up the length of the blouse, over the rise of full breasts, to the elegant neck, to stop at the smirk which had been carefully painted with red lipstick. Helena’s gaze roamed over Sophia’s sweaty shoulders, and biceps, then took in the abdominal muscles, which were tight from anxiety and the last half an hour of gym work.

  “Sophia, isn’t it?” The question was more a statement, conveyed through a throaty purr. Mel, who may as well have been a carpet square for all the attention that Helena was paying her, shuffled her feet. As casually as she could, Sophia leaned over, grabbed her towel off the floor, and stood, swinging her leg over the bench like she was dismounting from a horse. Helena’s eyes trailed the movement.

  “Yes. It’s Sophia. And you’re Helena.” She wiped her face with a corner of the towel.

  “We haven’t had that drink yet, Sophia. We should. Perhaps we could talk about what you’re going to do next year,” Helena said softly, her eyebrow raised. Sophia ran the towel across her stomach.