Playing the Game

by Graysen Morgen

  Randi laughed and got up to answer the knocking at the door as the shower began running. Olivia was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hall, looking freshly showered. She was wearing jeans, a white blouse with a round collar and three-quarter sleeves rolled back to her elbows, and Birkenstock sandals. The top four buttons of her shirt were open, showing off an expanse of tanned, smooth skin. Her damp hair was styled slightly messy, with the longer pieces tucked behind an ear.

  “You look like Victoria Beckam.” Randi smiled.

  “Wish I had her money,” Olivia laughed.

  “Right,” Randi agreed. She checked to see if anyone else was out and about before crossing the hall. She leaned on her toes to kiss her lips briefly. “Carrie called the shower first…so, I’ll be a while.”

  “Jorja was almost finished. You can use ours if you want.”

  “I’m good. I’ll see you at dinner. Save me a seat.”

  Olivia nodded.

  Randi watched her walk towards the elevator. As soon as the door closed, making Olivia disappear, a door down the hall opened. Jorja stepped out wearing jeans, a stylish tank top, and strappy sandals. Her copper-colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  “She just got into the elevator,” Randi said.

  “Let me guess, you’re waiting on Carrie?”

  “Is that anything new?” Randi laughed.

  “I heard that!” Carrie said, pulling their door open. She was wrapped in a towel. “You can have the shower now, princess,” she teased.

  Randi rolled her eyes.

  Jorja laughed as she headed down the hallway.

  “I shower first because it takes me longer to do my hair,” Carrie added when Randi stepped into the room.

  “I know that. I’m just messing with you. How long have we had this arrangement?”

  “Since college…and you’re still an ass,” Carrie called as Randi ignored her, shutting the door.

  *

  Randi stood next to Olivia, with the rest of the starters to her left as the national anthem played to a packed stadium. As the captain and co-captain of the team, the two of them walked over for the coin toss after their pictures were taken.

  “Ladies, we didn’t come here to lose. We didn’t come here to tie. No. We came here to leave with three points!” Olivia shouted from the center of the team circle. “Play hard. Play tough. Play for that group of Richey fans who drove all the way up here! Win on three!”

  Randi held her hand with the group and shouted, “Win!” She fist-bumped Olivia’s gloved hand before running out to her place at the midfield line. They had the ball first, and as a forward and co-captain, she always started play. She quickly kicked the ball over to Carrie. The game had begun.

  *

  Chicago came at them hard scoring on Olivia after a bad pass was collected, leaving her in a one on one situation and off her angle, but Richey fought back when Carrie sent in a beautiful cross that Randi put in the back of the net. Both teams raced up and down the field, losing and winning the ball over and over again. Richey took three more shots, two of which the Chicago goalkeeper stopped, and one that was wide. Chicago only had one other significant shot on Olivia, which she stopped. The rest of their six shots were either wide or too high.

  After halftime, the stadium became roaring loud. The score was tied at one all, but Chicago’s fans were resilient, just like their team. The Richey players fought hard. Randi had two defenders on her, making it difficult to get a shot off. Jorja set her up twice with great crosses, but she couldn’t get on them. They also missed a corner kick opportunity when a bad referee call led to a penalty kick in the ninetieth minute, allowing Chicago to score.

  With one minute of overtime to go, Sasha played the ball from the back, dribbling up the left sideline. She sent the ball inside to Carrie, who passed it out wide to Randi before making a run up the center of the field. Randi dribbled around her defender and crossed the ball in front of Carrie, but a tackle from behind sent her tumbling. The referee blew his whistle…ending the game.

  The Richey players gathered in front of their bench, shaking their heads and talking about the horrible calls by the referee.

  “Where the hell was the penalty when I got bulldozed in the box just now?” Carrie growled.

  “That asshole controlled the entire game, but there’s nothing we can do now…except stomp them when they come to our house!” Randi said.

  “We have better things to do. We can beat this dead horse when we get home,” Olivia said, ushering the team towards the small group of people wearing the baby blue and yellow colors of Richey FC, who stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of white.

  Randi posed for selfie pictures with whoever yelled for her and even signed a few Chicago jerseys. Olivia signed her gloves and gave them as a thank you to two of the diehard fans who had made the long trip. Then, she caught up with Randi, posing briefly as phones clicked away. Anytime they were talking to each other or even standing near one another, their fans went nuts.

  “I thought for sure he was going to bust me,” a Chicago player said, catching up to Carrie and Randi in the middle of the field. They were old friends from their college days playing together at Texas. “I came in way too hot,” she laughed.

  “Yeah, no shit. You damn near flattened me.” Carrie smiled and shook her head as she hugged her friend.

  “You guys played good, but you had a little help,” Randi teased, also hugging her.

  “I know,” the other girl laughed. “A bunch of us are going to dinner at Peppo’s. They have the best Italian food in town. Come with us. We’ll pick you up.”

  “We can’t. We’re flying back tonight.”

  “Oh, that sucks. Don’t you usually stay over?”

  “Yeah,” Randi said, adding, “we have a mid-week game on Wednesday, so tomorrow is our only day off.”

  The girl nodded. “That makes sense. I love you both. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yep,” Carrie called as they separated. “One month, to be exact.”

  The girl laughed and waved.

  “Come on. If we don’t hurry up, we’ll be eating fast food for dinner,” Randi muttered as they walked towards the exit area of the field.

  “The airport has an Irish pub. I wouldn’t mind going there,” Carrie replied.

  “Sasha heard we were going to some pizza joint,” Olivia said, catching up and throwing her arms over their shoulders as she squeezed between them. “But I’d vote for McDonald’s over airport food.”

  “Gross,” Randi cringed.

  “You go have your McHeartAttack. I’ll take my chances with the airport,” Carrie added.

  “I’m with you. An Irish Pub sounds wonderful,” Randi said.

  “Traitor!” Olivia laughed.

  “Ugh. How do you put up with her?” Carrie teased.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Olivia replied slyly, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “You both drive me crazy,” Randi chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled away from them and entered the locker room.

  *

  “How is your ankle?” Randi asked as the plane leveled out at 27,000 feet.

  “It’s fine. Back to normal,” Olivia sighed, staring out the window at the darkness.

  Randi squeezed her hand. “It was tough today. We’ll bounce back.”

  “I still hate losing. Especially to them.” Olivia kept a hold of her hand as she closed her eyes.

  Randi nodded in agreement. She knew all too well how much Olivia Zeller hated losing, especially to Chicago because of their coach. He’d drafted her out of college with a different team, then put her on the bench behind another keeper, before trading her the next season. Randi thought back to the full-blown temper tantrum Olivia had thrown three years earlier during her second season with Richey, causing her to be suspended by the league for two games, and get a stern talking to from their club owner. Randi was sure they were going to fire h
er, but once everything cooled down, the team hired a new goalkeeping coach. He grew close to Olivia and helped her learn to channel her anger, putting it all into the game and leaving it on the field. Doing so had made her a better player all around, and a leader on the team.

  8

  “327—responding,” Berkley said into the mic for her car radio. She flipped the lights and sirens switch and quickly cut a u-turn in the middle of an intersection before heading off in the opposite direction towards a call of an elderly man who had stolen a golf cart and was trying to run people over with it.

  “414—responding,” her radio buzzed with Garrett’s voice.

  Berkley saw the white cart racing around as soon as she turned the corner. “This guy’s nuts,” she mumbled, watching him zoom around as people jumped out of the way. She threw her car into park and got out. “Has he hit anyone?”

  “No,” a lady said. “But he’s tried. He almost ran over a kid.”

  “What the hell?” Garrett said. He’d pulled up right behind her.

  “I’m thinking if we come at him from opposite sides he can’t go after both of us. Whoever he doesn’t go after, jump in and try to stop him,” Berkley said.

  “Are you nuts?” Garrett laughed.

  “How else do you suppose we stop him? Shoot out the tires?”

  Garrett shrugged. “That’s not a bad idea. Or maybe taser him as he rides by.”

  Berkley shook her head. “327—dispatch EMS to my location.”

  “Copy—327. EMS is en route.”

  “Come on, here he comes. I’ll take the right, you go left,” Berkley said, taking off running.

  Several bystanders watched as the two officers chased down the golf cart ripping through the neighborhood. The driver saw Garrett first and swerved towards him, nearly going up on two wheels. As soon as the cart turned, Berkley dove into the passenger side, grabbing the wheel. The old man fought back, and the cart hit a curb. Garrett dove out of the way as the golf cart went airborne before rolling down into a ditch.

  “Oh, my God!” one lady screamed.

  Garrett got to his feet and quickly ran to the overturned cart. “Ward? Can you hear me?” Garrett called.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, lying on his belly to look under the cart. He could tell it had dug into the sides of the ditch, which stopped it from crushing them. Berkley was face down with the man under her.

  Two men who had been standing by watching the scene unfold, rushed over to help him lift the cart off Berkley and the elderly man as the fire truck and rescue pulled up with their lights and sirens.

  Once the cart was out of the way the old man growled, “Get off me!”

  “Shut up!” Berkley snapped, slowly standing on shaky legs. A trickle of bright red blood ran down the left side of her face, coming from her eyebrow area, and a dark bruise was starting to form on her cheek bone.

  “This nut crashed my cart!” the man yelled.

  “Yeah, well you’re under arrest, Pal!” Garret said. “Give me your damn hands.”

  The old man fought back, resisting arrest.

  “Don’t make me throw you on the ground and do this the hard way!” he said, grabbing his arms. “Ward, you need EMS.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, helping him with the man.

  “No, you’re not. You’re bleeding.”

  “What?” She reached up, touching her face. Her left hand had a smear of blood when she looked at it.

  “Officer Ward, let’s take a look at you,” the EMT said, ushering her towards the back of the ambulance.

  “Dad! Dad! Oh, my God!” a lady yelled out the window of her car as she screeched to a stop and jumped out. “Wait! He’s my father!” she called, running over to Garrett’s police cruiser. He was busy stuffing the agitated old man inside the back of the car.

  “Don’t put him in there!” she said, grabbing Garrett’s arm.

  “Lady, if you don’t remove your arm, I’ll arrest you for assault, too!” Garrett snapped.

  “He has dementia. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Please…”

  “He knew what was happening when he was trying to mow down all of these people with that damn golf cart. Go take a look at Officer Ward’s face. He could’ve killed her! He is under arrest. You can go down to the jail and bail him out after he has gone in front of the judge.”

  She turned, seeing the other officer sitting in the ambulance. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Damn it, Dad. Why won’t you just listen to me? You’re going to a home now. This is it,” Garrett heard her mumble as she walked over to some of her neighbors. He felt bad for the situation, but he had to do his job.

  “Ward…you okay?” Garrett asked, walking over to the open doors of the ambulance.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “She needs a few stitches above her eye,” the EMT added.

  “I’ll make sure she gets them,” Garrett replied, grabbing his radio mic. “414—one in custody, awaiting transport. Advise, 327 has an injury requiring non-emergency medical assistance. I’m going to accompany her to Richey General.”

  “Copy. Transport en route.”

  “601—327. Status update,” Lieutenant Cooper’s voice came over the radio.

  Berkley looked at Garrett and shook her head. He shrugged and walked away as another patrol car pulled up to take the old man to jail. She grabbed the radio mic clipped to her shoulder as she climbed out of the ambulance. “327—601. I’m 10-99. Just need a couple of stitches.”

  “Copy,” Lieutenant Cooper radioed. “327—you’re 10-10 for the rest of the shift,” he said, telling her to take the rest of the shift off.

  “Damn it,” she growled. “Copy—601,” she radioed as she got into her car.

  *

  The ride across town to the hospital took a little less than twenty minutes. Berkley wasn’t happy about her shift ending, but there was nothing she could about it. She parked outside of the emergency room and turned the car off. Garrett pulled up behind her as she got out.

  “I’m pretty sure I can get my eyebrow sewn without you,” she said.

  “I know you can,” he replied, walking inside with her. “I still don’t know what happened. I dove out of the way and the next thing I know, the cart was barrel rolling down into the ditch.”

  “I jumped in and he jerked the damn wheel. The front left tire hit the curb, sending it airborne. I think I hit my face when it rolled the first time. We both flew out. I landed on him and the cart landed above us.”

  “Officer Ward, we were awaiting your arrival. Right this way,” the nurse said, showing her through the double doors and into the triage area. She waved to room number five, then walked in behind Berkley and pulled the curtain closed.

  “I’ll be out here, unless you need me to hold your hand,” Garrett teased.

  Berkley shook her head. “He’s staying out there because he’s squeamish.”

  The nurse laughed. “So, what happened?” she asked, looking at Berkley’s face.

  “I was a daredevil on a golf cart and the golf cart won.”

  “Nice,” the nurse laughed as she took her blood pressure. “The doctor will be right in,” she added when she’d finished.

  Berkley nodded and looked around the room. She didn’t belong there amongst all that lifesaving equipment. She had a simple cut.

  “Officer Daredevil, I presume. Although, I do hope you’re not blind as well,” the doctor joked as he walked in with his hand out.

  Berkley smiled and shook his hand. “No.”

  “Great. That’s a nasty gash you got there. What the heck happened?”

  “It’s really not a big deal. We had a guy driving a golf cart erratically, and when I jumped in to stop him, he drove us over the curb and we flipped into a ditch,” she answered as he palpated her left eyebrow, eye socket, and cheek bone.

  “Wow! Well, the good news is nothing is broken. However, you’re
going to need three, maybe four stitches, and you’re going to have one hell of a black eye. How is your vision?”

  “It’s fine. I didn’t lose consciousness or anything.”

  “What’s your pain level?”

  “My cheek is a little sore, but I’m fine.”

  “Alright, tough girl. Do you want me to stitch it or call for plastics? It’s in the hairline of your brow.”

  “You can do it.”

  “Okay. When you get home, take a couple of ibuprofen tablets for pain and swelling every four hours for two to three days. You can see your primary or come back in here in five days to get the stitches removed.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  The doctor stuck a syringe needle in two different places above her eye to numb the area with a local anesthetic, then he sewed the cut closed.

  “All done.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “The nurse will be in with your discharge papers in a few minutes.”

  “GT, you can come in now, you big baby,” Berkley called out.

  Garrett walked with his middle finger raised up at her. “Ohhh, you’re going to look pretty tomorrow. Good thing you’re off for the next three days.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Are we still on for the trails tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m not dying. I have a cut and a bruise,” she replied as the nurse came back in with her paperwork.

  “Here you go, Officer Ward,” she said, handing Berkley a white plastic bag with the hospitals named and logo on the side. “I put a compress in there, too. It’ll help with the swelling.”

  “Thanks,” Berkley replied.

  “She’s kinda cute,” Garrett said as the nurse left the room.

  “You have a girlfriend.”

  “Not for me.”

  “I’m not interested,” she replied, walking out of the hospital.

  “I’m pretty sure she likes you.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go out with her.”