FIC - Heck On Wheels (Chapter 1 of ?)
Title: Heck On Wheels - Chapter 1: Ready to Rumble
Fandom: Loosely AI7 plus Anthemic, but there's a lot going on here.
Characters: Dave Cook, Andrew Cook, Neal Tiemann, Andy Skib, Kyle Peek, David Archuleta, and random others you'll recognize when you see their names. Probably.
Rating/Warnings: R, for language, adult situations, sexuality, and, uhhhh...genderswitch.
Summary: AU. RPF. Completely cracked-out story of a sweet bunch of misguided girls. Normally we know them as the Anthemic (and normally they're not girls), but here they're a down-and-out roller derby team that has just gotten a new coach. Can he turn things around for them? Will they find love, stay off the drugs, and succeed at life? WIP.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are real people, and belong solely to themselves. The story and situations are fictional, entirely fabricated by the authors, and no libel is intended. We make no profit from this story. We will remove this without prejudice if a cease and desist notice is issued.
Author's Note: We know nothing about roller derby, so some of this may be unrealistic crap. Also, story is unbetaed, because that's just how we roll (oh, see what I did there? That's right). Some of it may have been written while an author was indulging in some alcoholic beverages. (AN alcoholic beverage. Said author doesn't like to mix her drinks.)
D.F. Cook got out of her beat-up Ford Escort and grabbed the bags of takeout. "Audrey, babe, you wanna get my skate bag?" she asked, without bothering to see if her sister complied.
"I get so sick of carrying all your crap!" Audrey whined. But she shouldered both of their bags anyhow, and hurried to follow Cookie through the dented metal doors into the rink locker room.
"Hey, you guys! I brought Taco Bell!" Cookie yelled, holding the bags aloft. The smell of hot sauce and onions pervaded the humid room, mingling unappealingly with the fragrance of socks and deodorant. There was a vague sound of someone gagging.
"If you think I'm eating beans before practice, you're out of your fuckin' mind," Natalie Tiemann replied. She was already in full practice gear, and taping her fingers. "You shouldn't be eating that shit either, unless you want even more junk in that cute trunk of yours, Cookie." She gave the redhead a smack on the ass as she walked by.
"I keep telling her that," Audrey replied, stripping off her track pants and tossing them in a locker. "She's totally PMS-ing, though. So, it's pizza for breakfast, Mexican for lunch, and beer for dinner."
Natalie grinned and high-fived Audrey, but Cookie ignored them. "What's that sound? Who's crying?" she asked, as whimpers and sniffles echoed against the tiled walls.
Natalie gave her a look. "Who do you think? Who had to stop at Walgreens on the way over here?"
"Oh, no." Cookie dropped the bags of food on a bench and ran over to the stalls at the other end of the locker room. She looked under the doors until she saw feet, and then pounded. "Kylie! Open this door!"
The door swung open as though it hadn't been latched, revealing Kylie Peek sitting on the toilet, shorts around her ankles. Holding a little plastic stick, and crying. "It's supposed to have one line for pregnant, t-t-two for not pregnant!" she sobbed, hiccuping. "What the hell does no lines mean?"
"It means you probably missed the stick when you peed," Cookie said soothingly. She wedged herself in next to the girl on the toilet and tried to give her a hug. Unfortunately, it came off more like just setting her boobs on Kylie's head. "There's usually two in those packages. Take another one. Maybe it's a false alarm? You have a lot of those."
"I've thrown up every morning this week! And I crave bratwurst. I hate bratwurst! It's just like when I was pregnant with Hayden!" Kylie cried. "I'm knocked up again, I know it."
Natalie walked into view. "That will really fuck up our line, you know," she complained. That was Natalie, always thinking about the team.
Cookie gave her a dirty look. "You're not helping," she said darkly. "Look, Kylie. If we don't get dressed, we're gonna miss the meeting. You wanna meet our new coach, right?"
"Knowing her, she's probably met him, boned him, and that's his kid," Natalie commented. "I'm out. See you bitches in the rink." She snapped her gum loudly as she left. Audrey finished changing, and with a worried look over at the stall, followed after.
Cookie rolled her eyes and put an arm around Kylie as she got off the toilet and pulled her shorts up. They had to finish dressing in about a minute flat, but Kylie managed to pull herself together long enough to get her skates tied, and they both rolled out into the dingy rink.
It felt like home, the scuffed wooden floor, the bad lighting, the smell of sweat, beer, and stale pizza. Cookie gave Kylie's hand a squeeze and skated over to Audrey, Natalie, and Andrea, one of the other members of their line.
"So then I stabbed him," Andrea was saying. "Nobody gets away with that shit. I mean, who does he think he is?" She cracked her knuckles ominously, chipped black fingernail polish flashing. "He's lucky all I had time to grab was a table knife. Or he'd be one dead motherfucker. And then...holy fuck, Cookie, did you get that shirt in the baby department?"
Cookie heard Kylie start sniffling again at the words baby department. She looked down at her red t-shirt, stretched tight over her round boobs. "Just trying to impress the new coach," she smirked.
"Distract him so hard he falls over, is more like it," Natalie said. "Aww, look, he must've brought his kid with him." She pointed, and the rest of the girls turned to look.
A short, dark-haired kid in a suit was talking to the team's trainer, Smitty. They could see his white-toothed, dimpled smile all the way across the rink. Then he shook hands with Smitty, and turned to walk towards them.
Cookie stared. The kid actually made eye contact, in spite of her xx-small "Make Cupcakes Not War" shirt. He did blush, though. And it was way cuter than it should've been.
"Um, guys?" she said, nudging Natalie and Andrea in the side with each elbow. "I hate to tell you this...but I think Babyface there is the coach."
Andrea's jaw dropped. "No way. What is he, twelve?"
Kylie rubbed her eyes, and peered over. Then she smiled tentatively, and pushed her long hair back over one shoulder. "Um, he looks old enough." Cookie rolled her eyes again.
Natalie shrugged, and cracked her gum. "Smitty says he comes recommended. Managed to coach the Star-Spangled Searches to the major leagues, or something like that."
"And that was such a successful outing that he's now stuck with us instead," said Cookie, grimly, and as one, the line approached the two men, skates squeaking in the sudden quiet.
"Ladies," said Smitty, as they rolled up. He was as broad as the side of a truck, and had a face like a tire. But he ran them around the ring to gee them up, patched them up when they hurt themselves or suffered at the skates of the opposing team, talked them down after a bout, and they loved him. He'd seen them through a lot of shit. "I'd like to introduce you to our new coach, David Archuleta, fresh off the bus from Murray, Utah.
"Hi!" said Babyface David. "I'm really pleased to meet all of you." He held out his hand, and looked at Smitty expectantly.
"Coach, this is Natalie Tiemann, our four blocker." Natalie held up her taped hand, in lieu of a handshake, her nurse-white tee stretching across her broad shoulders. She inclined her spiky blond pigtailed head in the new coach's direction.
"Call me Doc," Natalie said.
"Um, why?" The new coach looked like he was staring in fascination at the ink that crawled across Natalie's pale skin, the garish colours of Star Trek's Klingon security officer tattooed across one impressive bicep.
"Because I'm the one who stitches our opponents up," said Natalie, modestly. "You can also call me Snakebites." She grimaced a smile, and the metal in her lips gleamed under the lights.
"This lovely lady is Kylie Peek, our speed demon jammer," continued Smitty, a little hastily, turning the kid by the shoulders to face the next member of the team. Kylie waved shyly and already smittenly, eyes big behind her brown hair. Her long eyelashes fluttered, as if of their own accord.
Cookie hoped Kylie wouldn't fling herself at the new coach, like she'd done too many times to count, it was seriously bad for morale, and this one, with his open, guileless face, looked like he'd be more hard-pressed than most to resist. She figured she might just have to kick Kylie's cute plaid-covered ass herself.
"Our main block is Andrea Skib." Black t-shirt, crazy black eyes, a scarlet fringe in her short black hair, Andi offered a silent hand to the kid, who shook it enthusiastically, until Andi stopped him dead with a look. The kid blushed, and quickly let go as if Andi's fingers were red-hot, as she'd probably intended.
"Our other blocker, Audrey Cook." Audrey was Cookie's kid sister. Reddish-brown ponytail, a little longer and leaner: less junk in her trunk, and, well, everywhere else. Slightly myopic, she wore sexy-nerd Lisa Loeb glasses off-rink, and special tinted goggles on the rink that made her look like Cyclops from the X-Men. She cast a quick look at Cookie, and shook the coach's hand like a normal person, for once.
"And, last but not least, the line leader and pivot, Davida Cook, Audrey's big sister," said Smitty, determined to get to the end of the introductions so that he could get out of the way and let practice start in earnest. "Cookie, will you do the honors?"
"Sure," said Cookie, and held her hand out to the kid, too. She looked him in the eye; she was a couple of inches taller, so he had to look up at her.
Again, despite the fact that her boobs were now in much closer proximity to his face, the new coach continued to hold her gaze. His grasp was strong and sure, and, although he was kind of blushing again, his brown eyes were steady. Despite herself, she was kind of impressed. Maybe he'd actually do them some good. At least, he might prove impervious to Kylie's charms, which would be a first.
"This is what we do, Coach," she told him. "Our last coach, Joey, had our line in a 1-3-1 formation, he thought this was the best tactic for us, plays to our strengths. Wanna see us go through our paces?"
Archuleta let her hand go. He looked at each team member in turn, frowning a little.
"Actually, I think we should try something a little different. I was watching you girls as you headed down our way. See Kylie has some zigzag going on, and you kind of hook to the left. I know it may be counter-intuitive, but think maybe you girls are fast enough that we should try 1-1-2-1 and see how things go."
"I totally have some zigzag going on!" Kylie piped up, excitedly.
Andi said nothing. Natalie looked thoughtful. Audrey chewed a fingernail, watching Cookie to see what she might say.
Cookie frowned, too. Was it too much to expect, that the kid would be some kind of skating savant? What she said, was, "Huh." Then, "We should try that. After we warm up, Coach?"
The girls looked prepared to move out at his word.
Which was when Archuleta said, "No, wait, first let us pray", and grabbed Andi and Cookie by the hands. They were so startled, they let him.
"Dear Lord, please watch over these girls tonight. Help them skate fast and stay safe. Hold them close in the palm of Your hand. And give me Your wisdom and the mind of Christ to guide and direct them in the way You would have us go. In Christ's precious Name, Amen."
There was an instant of stunned silence after the prayer.
"Um, Amen?" Cookie said, trying to get a little bit of participation going. When it wasn't forthcoming, she elbowed Audrey in the side.
"Right! Amen!" Audrey exclaimed, nodding. Meanwhile, Kylie continued batting her eyes at their religiously-inclined new coach, no doubt thinking about banging something other than the Bible. Natalie snorted and gave Kylie's hair a hard tug. Andrea simply glared, and made a little devil-horns hand gesture.
Fortunately, New Coach seemed a little oblivious to their displays of attitude, and simply clapped his hands at them. "All right, ladies! Forty laps, then stretch out! We don't want anyone pulling a muscle!"
Cookie wrangled her girls out into the rink and started their laps. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be in pretty good form, other than Kylie looking a little green a couple of about every five laps or so.
Natalie sprawled next to Cookie as they all spread out in the middle to stretch. "You're really gonna let that kid suggest formation changes? You sure that's such a fucking great idea?" Easily the limberest of all of them, she spread her legs wide and then leaned far enough forward to put her chest on the floor.
Cookie didn't even attempt to do the same, and leaned back to stretch out her tight quads. "It's just practice. Might as well find out if he knows what he's talking about.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Personally I think you should show him who's boss around here."
"He'll figure it out soon enough. Besides, our last few bouts have been far more agony of defeat than thrill of victory. Maybe we need a change."
"We need a change like you need implants."
"Oh, fuck you. You're just jealous," Cookie gave a little jiggle, which from her was not exactly little. Natalie kicked her in the ankle, hard, and kept stretching.
When Cookie finally stood up, fully stretched, she caught sight of their new, well-dressed young coach beckoning her over.
"Cookie. You're team captain, right?"
"That's right." Cookie looked down, and saw that along with his tailored suit, their new coach was wearing sneakers. For some reason it made her grin. "You want us to run through that new formation now?"
"Yes, give it a try. Just see how it feels."
Cookie gave him the high-sign, and skated back to the rest of the girls. "Okay. We're gonna run it like Coach said...1-1-2-1."
Natalie shook her head, but lined up, as did Audrey. Andi stood there belligerently, arms crossed. "Oh, great. Here we go. Like, let's practice sucking more than we already do!"
Cookie gave her main blocker a glare.
"Kylie needs practice sucking," Natalie suggested. "Maybe she'd stop getting fuckin' pregnant if she'd just take it in a different hole."
Kylie gave Natalie the finger, and then made a little gagging sound. Fortunately, it was enough distraction that Cookie didn't have to confront Andi, who just took her place in with a disgusted snort.
At the sound of the whistle, they surged forward as one. And soon discovered it was true, Coach had a point. They were much, much faster this way, and more agile. As they came around again, this time Coach stopped them and motioned an opposing line out onto the floor. He had them line up in the more traditional 1-3-1 formation, and blew the whistle to send them around a few more times.
It was easier to see both the strengths and weaknesses of the formation change in a scrimmage situation. For the first few rounds, Natalie had no problem hip-checking the other line's jammer out of bounds. After several rounds of full-speed skating, however, her smoker's lungs started to take over and the other girl managed to get past her. And the opposing line had learned, by now, that they could take out the two blockers and then double team Cookie so that their jammer had more of a chance. It didn't work every time, but it was clear that the looser formation had its drawbacks.
After a few laps like this, Coach called Cookie's line back and sent out replacements, to see how the others looked in a scrimmage. As they skated to the side, Natalie bent over, hands on her knees, and coughed raspily for a few minutes. Cookie just watched as Coach walked over to her and put a solicitious hand on her back. She rolled closer, to try to overhear without looking like she was snooping.
"...is really so bad for you, you know. You've probably decreased your lung capacity," he was saying, while Natalie turned her head and spit wetly on the floor. When she did this, Coach caught sight of a Marlboro Red tucked behind one ear. Deftly, he removed it.
"Hey!" Natalie stood up and made a swipe for it, but started coughing again.
"No more of these," Coach smiled, breaking it in half as Natalie turned all kinds of colors. "You'll thank me later, and so will the rest of the team." Then he walked away, and called another bunch of girls over to switch out the scrimmage.
Cookie skated over to Natalie, who looked ready to commit murder. "Did you see that little...fucking...bastard...kid...lecture me about smoking?" Her voice was a good octave lower than normal, after the coughing fit. "I've been..." cough "smokin' since before he quit" hack "watchin' Barney, for chrissakes!"
"I doubt that. And, he's right. I've been telling you that for ages," Cookie shrugged. "Maybe now you'll listen."
Sure enough, their new coach seemed to be worth listening to. After he'd put them all through their paces in various scrimmages, he sent them out to do some drills before finishing up.
Cookie had a sudden thought as her line started some fall drills. "Kylie, you sit these out," she ordered.
Kylie looked a little surprised, but Cookie motioned her off. "You heard me. No hits, either. Not until...you know." She trailed off, her meaning clear.
Obediently, Kylie skated over to the sidelines to wait.
"Does Kylie have some sort of injury, that she should be avoiding the contact drills?" Cookie jumped, startled. She hadn't heard Coach come near, and she wasn't prepared for the hit that Audrey laid on her. Suddenly, she was on her ass, looking up at Coach Archuleta. "What?"
"Take five, Cookie. Please come with me," he said, and walked off the rink again.
Cookie scrambled up and skated after him, resisting the urge to rub her skinned ass. When she reached the sideline, Coach turned around.
"Is there something I should know, about Kylie? You seem to be the one the other girls turn to. I like that you've accepted that leadership role, but I need you to trust me. What's going on?"
Cookie reached over and grabbed a water bottle. It bought her time to think while she took several long swallows. She had a feeling that Coach Christianity might not be too happy about their unmarried star jammer possibly having a bun in her oven. "It's...I'm just...she's not been feeling well. I don't want her to overdo it. That's all. She's fine."
Suddenly, someone was holding her hand.
Cookie had no issues with being touched. Heck, she relished it; she was the one who initiated contact, if you could ascribe such a neutral term to the kind of physical contact she'd sought, with girls as well as guys, in friendship as well as love. The person who hugged their teammate when they were feeling low? That was her. The person who was dirty-dancing with a stranger on the bar top at midnight, the person who had the cutest guy in the room bent backwards over the pool table, panting like he'd just run a marathon and ready to move the heavens and the earth for her just so she would move her tongue like that one more time? That person was her. She was all about contact.
But, for some reason, when Coach was holding her hand, she felt many different things, and most of them made her want to put her boots in his head.
Only one of them made her want to grab him and smush his face into her cleavage until he cried for mercy. Really.
She looked into his deep, serious eyes.
"Cookie, I know I'm new to you girls, I need to earn my place here. So you don't need to answer this, if you don't want to."
Cookie was bemused. This kind of newfangled managementspeak was unprecedented - all their coaches had been big on trying to lay down the law, and not so hot on consensus or diplomacy. And for some reason, the new coach's strong fingers laced through hers like they belonged there.
Then he let go. If you were to measure the timeframe, she'd say it was no longer than a couple of seconds; too short to be inappropriate or meaningful.
"There's something up with Kylie. If it's relevant to the team, or her ability, I think you should tell me, and not keep it from me."
Clearly, the kid had ESPN or something. If she really smushed his face into her boobs, maybe he might discern the song of her heart.
She might have actually blurted out what was up with Kylie, she was that rattled by the new coach. Fortunately, Audrey skated breathlessly over to the rails, at this point, and came to a screeching parallel stop in front of them.
"Cookie, you better come, Andi's gonna hit someone!"
"Fuck," said Cookie, and she spun around and took off like a rocket.
There was a circle of sweaty girls' bodies at the bottom of the ring; some catcalling, like people were egging Andi on, as if she needed any more enouragement. Cookie used her momentum to barrel into the center of the circle, shoving people out of her way.
And not a moment too soon, because Andi was about five seconds away from taking a swing at the main blocker from one of the other lines, a tall girl with braids, a lantern jaw and a belligerent expression.
Cookie shoved her chest between the pair; this usually worked.
"Break it up, benches! Nobody hits the girl on their own team, c'mon!"
"Simmer down, Cookie, I wasn't going to touch your little candywad," drawled the girl, whose name was Taylor. Cookie didn't even need to look behind her (two, one), just stuck out her arm and blocked Andi's furious lunge.
"Goddammit, Cookie, she got all up in Nat's grill and told her she'd hit her so hard her momma'd feel it!"
Cookie kind of saw red, as well; she felt the rush of blood, and knew she'd turned as red as her hair. Taylor was such a cow, and it was just like her to try to put one over Natalie when she was still coughing her lungs out thanks to the new formation. But you didn't hurt the girls on your team. "Save it for the opposition," was what she told Andi, and kept a grip on her black tee until she felt Andi relax a little unwillingly.
"Don't need you to fight my battles for me, Skib," muttered Natalie. She was sitting on her ass on the floor, still pale and kind of winded, but now looking murderous. Cookie didn't offer to assist; she knew that, were Natalie Tiemann to get up and weigh in to the fight, no one would be strong enough to hold Snakebites back.
Cookie turned back to Taylor. "As for you, Hicks, stop hassling my line, okay? Doubt you have a death wish."
Clearly, Taylor did in fact have a wish of some kind, because she took a step closer, and got up in Cookie's considerable grill. "Like you're woman enough to stop me?" she muttered, out of the side of her mouth.
This time, Cookie didn't see red. It was more like green, yellow, and purple, like the bruise she wanted to put on Taylor's face. She didn't back up, but took a deep breath, so that her boobs aggressively knocked against Taylor's much less impressive ones. "You know I am," she said quietly, her nose almost touching Taylor's. "But not here, and not now. Walk away, Hicks, or I'm going to take you apart and lock the pieces in your own trunk. It'll probably take people a few days to miss you, too."
A collective oooooh of anticipation rippled through the girls who were still watching the growing altercation.
Cookie's fingers tingled with the itch to punch Taylor. It was really just what she needed to defuse some of the tension from this practice. Well, either that or a hardcore fuck, but the latter didn't seem to be in the offing. Just make one move, you ugly cunt she thought. I just want an excuse to end you.
Surprisingly, she felt a strong arm wrap around her, and restrain her just slightly, just as she saw someone doing the same thing to Taylor. Before either of them could even react, they were both pulled away from each other. Cookie looked down at the garish designs on Natalie's forearm.
"Don't do it. Not worth it," Natalie said in her ear. "Besides, your new friend Coach Churchcamp is watching. You get on his bad side now, and we'll all be going to mass twice a day and working in a soup kitchen or some shit."
Cookie maintained eye contact with Taylor for as long as she could, and then slowly skated away with Natalie. She shook off her friend's arm. "I am so gonna cut that bitch one of these days. Believe it."
"Oh, I do. Just don't do it today. I think we're supposed to be on good behavior, or something. Now, shimmy over there and tell Coach you handled that delicate situation." Natalie gave Cookie another one of those smacks on the ass, and followed this one up with a pinch before leaving for the locker room, no doubt to smoke the entire two packs of cigarettes she had in her skate bag.
"Is everything all right?" Coach asked, as Cookie approached.
"Oh, yeah. Just some personality issues. I'm used to it. I handled it," Cookie said, giving him her most charming smile. Inside, she still felt like hitting someone. But looking at Coach Archuleta's face, with his big eyes and long lashes and dimpled smile, the more violent impulses started to melt into something less aggressive. Still physical, yes. But with less punching.
"I have an idea," she said suddenly, brushing her sweaty bangs aside. She hoped she didn't look too disgusting right now. "We should probably talk about team...dynamics, or something." She hoped that was the sort of terminology that made her sound serious and professional. Because she was both, even though she didn't usually spend a whole lot of time even thinking about team dynamics. "If you want, we could go for a drink, after I get cleaned up. Talk about the team. How about it?" She noticed that she was stubbing her toestop into the floor awkwardly, and willed herself to stop. Guys normally fell over themselves to go out with her. She needed to act like someone who expected that reaction, not someone asking her middle-school crush to the homecoming dance.
Big eyes, long lashes, held hers, weighing something. Could be the level of her serious professionalism, or the grossness of her bangs, it wasn't at all clear which. She held her breath, and willed herself to stop biting her lower lip: c'mon, he should be so lucky.
C'mon.
Then, the dimpled smile, like a flash of heaven, and Cookie let out the breath she was holding. "Sure, Cookie. It's important to review team dynamics, and I'd really appreciate your thoughts on the new formation. I was watching from the sidelines, and I have some ideas about how to make the 1-2-1-1 work better for your line."
The only way to make 1-2-1-1 work for us is if you keep detailing Natalie's skate bag for smokes, thought Cookie, but what she said was, "Awesome. Give me ten minutes, okay? Wait for you out front?"
"Got it," said Coach Archuleta, smiling. There was a sparkle in his eye that she thought she could read - maybe he wasn't as pure and innocent as he made himself out to be. In fact, she was kind of betting her evening on it, although she'd be careful to keep to the edge of harmless fun. Cookie didn't spend time with guys that were particularly pure and innocent; at least, after any time in her company, they wouldn't remain so for long.
She turned around in the direction of the locker room and gave him a rather exaggerated ass wiggle. Of course, this would have been much more seductive if her toestop hadn't caught in the floor and made her trip and nearly faceplant in the lane.
"Motherf - darn it." Cookie bit back her customary stream of blue invective; she needed to start her date - um, meeting - with Coach Churchcamp on the right footing. She did however have to reach behind her to adjust her tight shorts, which had ridden up into her asscrack during the ungraceful stumble; she hoped she'd managed to fix the pantywedge with a modicum of elegance. She wondered fleetingly, as she slid her index finger from the join of her shorts, whether he'd been watching, and if so, whether his face was blushing as prettily as she remembered. When she cast a quick glance over her shoulder, though, she saw him facing away from her, talking seriously to Smitty and one of the other girls. Fucking Christ on a pogo stick, he hadn't been watching.
Of course, it would have helped if she'd told Coach thirty minutes, instead of ten. She needed far more than that in order to get herself looking halfway decent again. Cursing vociferously to herself, she flung herself into the locker room, unlaced her skates in double quick time, pulled off her sweaty gear and headed into the shower. She had to elbow Andi to one side so she could wash her hair under the hot water.
Andi's look was somewhat appraising today, as she stood under the pouring water, surveyed the eagle tattoo on Cookie's left bicep and the inked, bleeding heart between her breasts. "Hot date?" she wanted to know.
"Business," said Cookie, rinsing out her hair and shutting off the water.
Andi stepped around her and turned the water back on. "The kiddie coach? You need to be careful, Cookie. You scare this one off, it'll be four coaches this year."
Cookie couldn't let this pass; she turned the water off and tried to sound reasonable. "Hon, seriously. It's just business. This is me, remember? I wasn't responsible for getting the last three sacked, screwed or scared off, in that order." Indeed, she hadn't been responsible for the others, and she wasn't planning on screwing or scaring off this one, either. Or getting him in the sack. No matter how cute his smile was. "Speaking of which, how is Kylie?"
"Still puking. Natalie took her home. Not sure if she'll survive the ride on the bike, though." Andi shrugged, deliberately casual, as if she didn't remember the time when she'd ridden that bike every day. They never talked about that, none of the girls did, even when Natalie got a new tattoo of a black, broken music note on her right hip.
After a while, Cookie nodded and backed out of the shower, and Andi turned the water on again.
In the locker room, Audrey had already changed back into her Lisa Loebs, track pants and hoodie, and was taking a huge bite of a cold Taco Bell burrito. Greasy wrappers and debris littered the benches - Natalie was kind of a slob when she ate, and she should be thanking her lucky stars that Kylie hadn't eaten, otherwise there would have probably been more debris on the floor, of an even less pleasant variety.
No time for Cookie to grab a bite; maybe she'd get something at the bar, or she'd just have to have a liquid dinner. Towel wrapped around her wet hair, she dug through her skate bag and scowled at her options. Sensible white panties were fine for a business discussion, but she could have brought the sexy black jeans with the strategic rip in it, rather than the comfortable blue ones she had in fact stowed. On the plus side, she'd brought the xx-small blue T-shirt that said, "I Gave My Word To Stop At Third". At last, a sentiment with which Coach Churchcamp might approve.
She pulled on her clothes with some difficulty, rubbed on moisturizer and lip balm and ran her fingers through her wet red hair. Fucking locker room hairdryer was broken, she looked like a drowned rat. She stared at herself in the one mirror and amended this to: a drowned rat with a rather impressive rack. She had another minute, maybe, so she drew eyeliner around her green eyes.
When she was done she turned to meet Audrey's curious gaze, over her glasses. "Goin' someplace?" her kid sister wanted to know, and of course she'd been so manic about the ten minute deadline she'd forgotten to mention it.
"Coach asked me to meet him for a bit, discuss the new formation," she said, which wasn't technically a lie. She dug around in her skate bag and threw the car keys at Audrey, who caught them neatly. "Why don't you drive our gear home? Take Andi with you, too, if she needs a ride. I'm sure we'll just go to the bar on the corner or something, and I can catch a ride, too, or the last bus."
"Not sure if the kid's old enough for the Litter Box," Audrey said, mildly. "You watch yourself, Davida Faye. I don't want to have to explain this to mom. Or to his mom, come to think of it."
"It's just business," repeated Cookie, firmly. She shoved her feet into her pointy-toed boots, put on the dozen or so steel and leather necklaces she liked to wear, and shouldered her way into her motorcycle jacket. She tugged her hair to give it some volume. Then she stood up, fierce and in control and nary a rucked-up pantywedge in sight.
--end Chapter 1. TBC...
Fandom: Loosely AI7 plus Anthemic, but there's a lot going on here.
Characters: Dave Cook, Andrew Cook, Neal Tiemann, Andy Skib, Kyle Peek, David Archuleta, and random others you'll recognize when you see their names. Probably.
Rating/Warnings: R, for language, adult situations, sexuality, and, uhhhh...genderswitch.
Summary: AU. RPF. Completely cracked-out story of a sweet bunch of misguided girls. Normally we know them as the Anthemic (and normally they're not girls), but here they're a down-and-out roller derby team that has just gotten a new coach. Can he turn things around for them? Will they find love, stay off the drugs, and succeed at life? WIP.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are real people, and belong solely to themselves. The story and situations are fictional, entirely fabricated by the authors, and no libel is intended. We make no profit from this story. We will remove this without prejudice if a cease and desist notice is issued.
Author's Note: We know nothing about roller derby, so some of this may be unrealistic crap. Also, story is unbetaed, because that's just how we roll (oh, see what I did there? That's right). Some of it may have been written while an author was indulging in some alcoholic beverages. (AN alcoholic beverage. Said author doesn't like to mix her drinks.)
D.F. Cook got out of her beat-up Ford Escort and grabbed the bags of takeout. "Audrey, babe, you wanna get my skate bag?" she asked, without bothering to see if her sister complied.
"I get so sick of carrying all your crap!" Audrey whined. But she shouldered both of their bags anyhow, and hurried to follow Cookie through the dented metal doors into the rink locker room.
"Hey, you guys! I brought Taco Bell!" Cookie yelled, holding the bags aloft. The smell of hot sauce and onions pervaded the humid room, mingling unappealingly with the fragrance of socks and deodorant. There was a vague sound of someone gagging.
"If you think I'm eating beans before practice, you're out of your fuckin' mind," Natalie Tiemann replied. She was already in full practice gear, and taping her fingers. "You shouldn't be eating that shit either, unless you want even more junk in that cute trunk of yours, Cookie." She gave the redhead a smack on the ass as she walked by.
"I keep telling her that," Audrey replied, stripping off her track pants and tossing them in a locker. "She's totally PMS-ing, though. So, it's pizza for breakfast, Mexican for lunch, and beer for dinner."
Natalie grinned and high-fived Audrey, but Cookie ignored them. "What's that sound? Who's crying?" she asked, as whimpers and sniffles echoed against the tiled walls.
Natalie gave her a look. "Who do you think? Who had to stop at Walgreens on the way over here?"
"Oh, no." Cookie dropped the bags of food on a bench and ran over to the stalls at the other end of the locker room. She looked under the doors until she saw feet, and then pounded. "Kylie! Open this door!"
The door swung open as though it hadn't been latched, revealing Kylie Peek sitting on the toilet, shorts around her ankles. Holding a little plastic stick, and crying. "It's supposed to have one line for pregnant, t-t-two for not pregnant!" she sobbed, hiccuping. "What the hell does no lines mean?"
"It means you probably missed the stick when you peed," Cookie said soothingly. She wedged herself in next to the girl on the toilet and tried to give her a hug. Unfortunately, it came off more like just setting her boobs on Kylie's head. "There's usually two in those packages. Take another one. Maybe it's a false alarm? You have a lot of those."
"I've thrown up every morning this week! And I crave bratwurst. I hate bratwurst! It's just like when I was pregnant with Hayden!" Kylie cried. "I'm knocked up again, I know it."
Natalie walked into view. "That will really fuck up our line, you know," she complained. That was Natalie, always thinking about the team.
Cookie gave her a dirty look. "You're not helping," she said darkly. "Look, Kylie. If we don't get dressed, we're gonna miss the meeting. You wanna meet our new coach, right?"
"Knowing her, she's probably met him, boned him, and that's his kid," Natalie commented. "I'm out. See you bitches in the rink." She snapped her gum loudly as she left. Audrey finished changing, and with a worried look over at the stall, followed after.
Cookie rolled her eyes and put an arm around Kylie as she got off the toilet and pulled her shorts up. They had to finish dressing in about a minute flat, but Kylie managed to pull herself together long enough to get her skates tied, and they both rolled out into the dingy rink.
It felt like home, the scuffed wooden floor, the bad lighting, the smell of sweat, beer, and stale pizza. Cookie gave Kylie's hand a squeeze and skated over to Audrey, Natalie, and Andrea, one of the other members of their line.
"So then I stabbed him," Andrea was saying. "Nobody gets away with that shit. I mean, who does he think he is?" She cracked her knuckles ominously, chipped black fingernail polish flashing. "He's lucky all I had time to grab was a table knife. Or he'd be one dead motherfucker. And then...holy fuck, Cookie, did you get that shirt in the baby department?"
Cookie heard Kylie start sniffling again at the words baby department. She looked down at her red t-shirt, stretched tight over her round boobs. "Just trying to impress the new coach," she smirked.
"Distract him so hard he falls over, is more like it," Natalie said. "Aww, look, he must've brought his kid with him." She pointed, and the rest of the girls turned to look.
A short, dark-haired kid in a suit was talking to the team's trainer, Smitty. They could see his white-toothed, dimpled smile all the way across the rink. Then he shook hands with Smitty, and turned to walk towards them.
Cookie stared. The kid actually made eye contact, in spite of her xx-small "Make Cupcakes Not War" shirt. He did blush, though. And it was way cuter than it should've been.
"Um, guys?" she said, nudging Natalie and Andrea in the side with each elbow. "I hate to tell you this...but I think Babyface there is the coach."
Andrea's jaw dropped. "No way. What is he, twelve?"
Kylie rubbed her eyes, and peered over. Then she smiled tentatively, and pushed her long hair back over one shoulder. "Um, he looks old enough." Cookie rolled her eyes again.
Natalie shrugged, and cracked her gum. "Smitty says he comes recommended. Managed to coach the Star-Spangled Searches to the major leagues, or something like that."
"And that was such a successful outing that he's now stuck with us instead," said Cookie, grimly, and as one, the line approached the two men, skates squeaking in the sudden quiet.
"Ladies," said Smitty, as they rolled up. He was as broad as the side of a truck, and had a face like a tire. But he ran them around the ring to gee them up, patched them up when they hurt themselves or suffered at the skates of the opposing team, talked them down after a bout, and they loved him. He'd seen them through a lot of shit. "I'd like to introduce you to our new coach, David Archuleta, fresh off the bus from Murray, Utah.
"Hi!" said Babyface David. "I'm really pleased to meet all of you." He held out his hand, and looked at Smitty expectantly.
"Coach, this is Natalie Tiemann, our four blocker." Natalie held up her taped hand, in lieu of a handshake, her nurse-white tee stretching across her broad shoulders. She inclined her spiky blond pigtailed head in the new coach's direction.
"Call me Doc," Natalie said.
"Um, why?" The new coach looked like he was staring in fascination at the ink that crawled across Natalie's pale skin, the garish colours of Star Trek's Klingon security officer tattooed across one impressive bicep.
"Because I'm the one who stitches our opponents up," said Natalie, modestly. "You can also call me Snakebites." She grimaced a smile, and the metal in her lips gleamed under the lights.
"This lovely lady is Kylie Peek, our speed demon jammer," continued Smitty, a little hastily, turning the kid by the shoulders to face the next member of the team. Kylie waved shyly and already smittenly, eyes big behind her brown hair. Her long eyelashes fluttered, as if of their own accord.
Cookie hoped Kylie wouldn't fling herself at the new coach, like she'd done too many times to count, it was seriously bad for morale, and this one, with his open, guileless face, looked like he'd be more hard-pressed than most to resist. She figured she might just have to kick Kylie's cute plaid-covered ass herself.
"Our main block is Andrea Skib." Black t-shirt, crazy black eyes, a scarlet fringe in her short black hair, Andi offered a silent hand to the kid, who shook it enthusiastically, until Andi stopped him dead with a look. The kid blushed, and quickly let go as if Andi's fingers were red-hot, as she'd probably intended.
"Our other blocker, Audrey Cook." Audrey was Cookie's kid sister. Reddish-brown ponytail, a little longer and leaner: less junk in her trunk, and, well, everywhere else. Slightly myopic, she wore sexy-nerd Lisa Loeb glasses off-rink, and special tinted goggles on the rink that made her look like Cyclops from the X-Men. She cast a quick look at Cookie, and shook the coach's hand like a normal person, for once.
"And, last but not least, the line leader and pivot, Davida Cook, Audrey's big sister," said Smitty, determined to get to the end of the introductions so that he could get out of the way and let practice start in earnest. "Cookie, will you do the honors?"
"Sure," said Cookie, and held her hand out to the kid, too. She looked him in the eye; she was a couple of inches taller, so he had to look up at her.
Again, despite the fact that her boobs were now in much closer proximity to his face, the new coach continued to hold her gaze. His grasp was strong and sure, and, although he was kind of blushing again, his brown eyes were steady. Despite herself, she was kind of impressed. Maybe he'd actually do them some good. At least, he might prove impervious to Kylie's charms, which would be a first.
"This is what we do, Coach," she told him. "Our last coach, Joey, had our line in a 1-3-1 formation, he thought this was the best tactic for us, plays to our strengths. Wanna see us go through our paces?"
Archuleta let her hand go. He looked at each team member in turn, frowning a little.
"Actually, I think we should try something a little different. I was watching you girls as you headed down our way. See Kylie has some zigzag going on, and you kind of hook to the left. I know it may be counter-intuitive, but think maybe you girls are fast enough that we should try 1-1-2-1 and see how things go."
"I totally have some zigzag going on!" Kylie piped up, excitedly.
Andi said nothing. Natalie looked thoughtful. Audrey chewed a fingernail, watching Cookie to see what she might say.
Cookie frowned, too. Was it too much to expect, that the kid would be some kind of skating savant? What she said, was, "Huh." Then, "We should try that. After we warm up, Coach?"
The girls looked prepared to move out at his word.
Which was when Archuleta said, "No, wait, first let us pray", and grabbed Andi and Cookie by the hands. They were so startled, they let him.
"Dear Lord, please watch over these girls tonight. Help them skate fast and stay safe. Hold them close in the palm of Your hand. And give me Your wisdom and the mind of Christ to guide and direct them in the way You would have us go. In Christ's precious Name, Amen."
There was an instant of stunned silence after the prayer.
"Um, Amen?" Cookie said, trying to get a little bit of participation going. When it wasn't forthcoming, she elbowed Audrey in the side.
"Right! Amen!" Audrey exclaimed, nodding. Meanwhile, Kylie continued batting her eyes at their religiously-inclined new coach, no doubt thinking about banging something other than the Bible. Natalie snorted and gave Kylie's hair a hard tug. Andrea simply glared, and made a little devil-horns hand gesture.
Fortunately, New Coach seemed a little oblivious to their displays of attitude, and simply clapped his hands at them. "All right, ladies! Forty laps, then stretch out! We don't want anyone pulling a muscle!"
Cookie wrangled her girls out into the rink and started their laps. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be in pretty good form, other than Kylie looking a little green a couple of about every five laps or so.
Natalie sprawled next to Cookie as they all spread out in the middle to stretch. "You're really gonna let that kid suggest formation changes? You sure that's such a fucking great idea?" Easily the limberest of all of them, she spread her legs wide and then leaned far enough forward to put her chest on the floor.
Cookie didn't even attempt to do the same, and leaned back to stretch out her tight quads. "It's just practice. Might as well find out if he knows what he's talking about.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Personally I think you should show him who's boss around here."
"He'll figure it out soon enough. Besides, our last few bouts have been far more agony of defeat than thrill of victory. Maybe we need a change."
"We need a change like you need implants."
"Oh, fuck you. You're just jealous," Cookie gave a little jiggle, which from her was not exactly little. Natalie kicked her in the ankle, hard, and kept stretching.
When Cookie finally stood up, fully stretched, she caught sight of their new, well-dressed young coach beckoning her over.
"Cookie. You're team captain, right?"
"That's right." Cookie looked down, and saw that along with his tailored suit, their new coach was wearing sneakers. For some reason it made her grin. "You want us to run through that new formation now?"
"Yes, give it a try. Just see how it feels."
Cookie gave him the high-sign, and skated back to the rest of the girls. "Okay. We're gonna run it like Coach said...1-1-2-1."
Natalie shook her head, but lined up, as did Audrey. Andi stood there belligerently, arms crossed. "Oh, great. Here we go. Like, let's practice sucking more than we already do!"
Cookie gave her main blocker a glare.
"Kylie needs practice sucking," Natalie suggested. "Maybe she'd stop getting fuckin' pregnant if she'd just take it in a different hole."
Kylie gave Natalie the finger, and then made a little gagging sound. Fortunately, it was enough distraction that Cookie didn't have to confront Andi, who just took her place in with a disgusted snort.
At the sound of the whistle, they surged forward as one. And soon discovered it was true, Coach had a point. They were much, much faster this way, and more agile. As they came around again, this time Coach stopped them and motioned an opposing line out onto the floor. He had them line up in the more traditional 1-3-1 formation, and blew the whistle to send them around a few more times.
It was easier to see both the strengths and weaknesses of the formation change in a scrimmage situation. For the first few rounds, Natalie had no problem hip-checking the other line's jammer out of bounds. After several rounds of full-speed skating, however, her smoker's lungs started to take over and the other girl managed to get past her. And the opposing line had learned, by now, that they could take out the two blockers and then double team Cookie so that their jammer had more of a chance. It didn't work every time, but it was clear that the looser formation had its drawbacks.
After a few laps like this, Coach called Cookie's line back and sent out replacements, to see how the others looked in a scrimmage. As they skated to the side, Natalie bent over, hands on her knees, and coughed raspily for a few minutes. Cookie just watched as Coach walked over to her and put a solicitious hand on her back. She rolled closer, to try to overhear without looking like she was snooping.
"...is really so bad for you, you know. You've probably decreased your lung capacity," he was saying, while Natalie turned her head and spit wetly on the floor. When she did this, Coach caught sight of a Marlboro Red tucked behind one ear. Deftly, he removed it.
"Hey!" Natalie stood up and made a swipe for it, but started coughing again.
"No more of these," Coach smiled, breaking it in half as Natalie turned all kinds of colors. "You'll thank me later, and so will the rest of the team." Then he walked away, and called another bunch of girls over to switch out the scrimmage.
Cookie skated over to Natalie, who looked ready to commit murder. "Did you see that little...fucking...bastard...kid...lecture me about smoking?" Her voice was a good octave lower than normal, after the coughing fit. "I've been..." cough "smokin' since before he quit" hack "watchin' Barney, for chrissakes!"
"I doubt that. And, he's right. I've been telling you that for ages," Cookie shrugged. "Maybe now you'll listen."
Sure enough, their new coach seemed to be worth listening to. After he'd put them all through their paces in various scrimmages, he sent them out to do some drills before finishing up.
Cookie had a sudden thought as her line started some fall drills. "Kylie, you sit these out," she ordered.
Kylie looked a little surprised, but Cookie motioned her off. "You heard me. No hits, either. Not until...you know." She trailed off, her meaning clear.
Obediently, Kylie skated over to the sidelines to wait.
"Does Kylie have some sort of injury, that she should be avoiding the contact drills?" Cookie jumped, startled. She hadn't heard Coach come near, and she wasn't prepared for the hit that Audrey laid on her. Suddenly, she was on her ass, looking up at Coach Archuleta. "What?"
"Take five, Cookie. Please come with me," he said, and walked off the rink again.
Cookie scrambled up and skated after him, resisting the urge to rub her skinned ass. When she reached the sideline, Coach turned around.
"Is there something I should know, about Kylie? You seem to be the one the other girls turn to. I like that you've accepted that leadership role, but I need you to trust me. What's going on?"
Cookie reached over and grabbed a water bottle. It bought her time to think while she took several long swallows. She had a feeling that Coach Christianity might not be too happy about their unmarried star jammer possibly having a bun in her oven. "It's...I'm just...she's not been feeling well. I don't want her to overdo it. That's all. She's fine."
Suddenly, someone was holding her hand.
Cookie had no issues with being touched. Heck, she relished it; she was the one who initiated contact, if you could ascribe such a neutral term to the kind of physical contact she'd sought, with girls as well as guys, in friendship as well as love. The person who hugged their teammate when they were feeling low? That was her. The person who was dirty-dancing with a stranger on the bar top at midnight, the person who had the cutest guy in the room bent backwards over the pool table, panting like he'd just run a marathon and ready to move the heavens and the earth for her just so she would move her tongue like that one more time? That person was her. She was all about contact.
But, for some reason, when Coach was holding her hand, she felt many different things, and most of them made her want to put her boots in his head.
Only one of them made her want to grab him and smush his face into her cleavage until he cried for mercy. Really.
She looked into his deep, serious eyes.
"Cookie, I know I'm new to you girls, I need to earn my place here. So you don't need to answer this, if you don't want to."
Cookie was bemused. This kind of newfangled managementspeak was unprecedented - all their coaches had been big on trying to lay down the law, and not so hot on consensus or diplomacy. And for some reason, the new coach's strong fingers laced through hers like they belonged there.
Then he let go. If you were to measure the timeframe, she'd say it was no longer than a couple of seconds; too short to be inappropriate or meaningful.
"There's something up with Kylie. If it's relevant to the team, or her ability, I think you should tell me, and not keep it from me."
Clearly, the kid had ESPN or something. If she really smushed his face into her boobs, maybe he might discern the song of her heart.
She might have actually blurted out what was up with Kylie, she was that rattled by the new coach. Fortunately, Audrey skated breathlessly over to the rails, at this point, and came to a screeching parallel stop in front of them.
"Cookie, you better come, Andi's gonna hit someone!"
"Fuck," said Cookie, and she spun around and took off like a rocket.
There was a circle of sweaty girls' bodies at the bottom of the ring; some catcalling, like people were egging Andi on, as if she needed any more enouragement. Cookie used her momentum to barrel into the center of the circle, shoving people out of her way.
And not a moment too soon, because Andi was about five seconds away from taking a swing at the main blocker from one of the other lines, a tall girl with braids, a lantern jaw and a belligerent expression.
Cookie shoved her chest between the pair; this usually worked.
"Break it up, benches! Nobody hits the girl on their own team, c'mon!"
"Simmer down, Cookie, I wasn't going to touch your little candywad," drawled the girl, whose name was Taylor. Cookie didn't even need to look behind her (two, one), just stuck out her arm and blocked Andi's furious lunge.
"Goddammit, Cookie, she got all up in Nat's grill and told her she'd hit her so hard her momma'd feel it!"
Cookie kind of saw red, as well; she felt the rush of blood, and knew she'd turned as red as her hair. Taylor was such a cow, and it was just like her to try to put one over Natalie when she was still coughing her lungs out thanks to the new formation. But you didn't hurt the girls on your team. "Save it for the opposition," was what she told Andi, and kept a grip on her black tee until she felt Andi relax a little unwillingly.
"Don't need you to fight my battles for me, Skib," muttered Natalie. She was sitting on her ass on the floor, still pale and kind of winded, but now looking murderous. Cookie didn't offer to assist; she knew that, were Natalie Tiemann to get up and weigh in to the fight, no one would be strong enough to hold Snakebites back.
Cookie turned back to Taylor. "As for you, Hicks, stop hassling my line, okay? Doubt you have a death wish."
Clearly, Taylor did in fact have a wish of some kind, because she took a step closer, and got up in Cookie's considerable grill. "Like you're woman enough to stop me?" she muttered, out of the side of her mouth.
This time, Cookie didn't see red. It was more like green, yellow, and purple, like the bruise she wanted to put on Taylor's face. She didn't back up, but took a deep breath, so that her boobs aggressively knocked against Taylor's much less impressive ones. "You know I am," she said quietly, her nose almost touching Taylor's. "But not here, and not now. Walk away, Hicks, or I'm going to take you apart and lock the pieces in your own trunk. It'll probably take people a few days to miss you, too."
A collective oooooh of anticipation rippled through the girls who were still watching the growing altercation.
Cookie's fingers tingled with the itch to punch Taylor. It was really just what she needed to defuse some of the tension from this practice. Well, either that or a hardcore fuck, but the latter didn't seem to be in the offing. Just make one move, you ugly cunt she thought. I just want an excuse to end you.
Surprisingly, she felt a strong arm wrap around her, and restrain her just slightly, just as she saw someone doing the same thing to Taylor. Before either of them could even react, they were both pulled away from each other. Cookie looked down at the garish designs on Natalie's forearm.
"Don't do it. Not worth it," Natalie said in her ear. "Besides, your new friend Coach Churchcamp is watching. You get on his bad side now, and we'll all be going to mass twice a day and working in a soup kitchen or some shit."
Cookie maintained eye contact with Taylor for as long as she could, and then slowly skated away with Natalie. She shook off her friend's arm. "I am so gonna cut that bitch one of these days. Believe it."
"Oh, I do. Just don't do it today. I think we're supposed to be on good behavior, or something. Now, shimmy over there and tell Coach you handled that delicate situation." Natalie gave Cookie another one of those smacks on the ass, and followed this one up with a pinch before leaving for the locker room, no doubt to smoke the entire two packs of cigarettes she had in her skate bag.
"Is everything all right?" Coach asked, as Cookie approached.
"Oh, yeah. Just some personality issues. I'm used to it. I handled it," Cookie said, giving him her most charming smile. Inside, she still felt like hitting someone. But looking at Coach Archuleta's face, with his big eyes and long lashes and dimpled smile, the more violent impulses started to melt into something less aggressive. Still physical, yes. But with less punching.
"I have an idea," she said suddenly, brushing her sweaty bangs aside. She hoped she didn't look too disgusting right now. "We should probably talk about team...dynamics, or something." She hoped that was the sort of terminology that made her sound serious and professional. Because she was both, even though she didn't usually spend a whole lot of time even thinking about team dynamics. "If you want, we could go for a drink, after I get cleaned up. Talk about the team. How about it?" She noticed that she was stubbing her toestop into the floor awkwardly, and willed herself to stop. Guys normally fell over themselves to go out with her. She needed to act like someone who expected that reaction, not someone asking her middle-school crush to the homecoming dance.
Big eyes, long lashes, held hers, weighing something. Could be the level of her serious professionalism, or the grossness of her bangs, it wasn't at all clear which. She held her breath, and willed herself to stop biting her lower lip: c'mon, he should be so lucky.
C'mon.
Then, the dimpled smile, like a flash of heaven, and Cookie let out the breath she was holding. "Sure, Cookie. It's important to review team dynamics, and I'd really appreciate your thoughts on the new formation. I was watching from the sidelines, and I have some ideas about how to make the 1-2-1-1 work better for your line."
The only way to make 1-2-1-1 work for us is if you keep detailing Natalie's skate bag for smokes, thought Cookie, but what she said was, "Awesome. Give me ten minutes, okay? Wait for you out front?"
"Got it," said Coach Archuleta, smiling. There was a sparkle in his eye that she thought she could read - maybe he wasn't as pure and innocent as he made himself out to be. In fact, she was kind of betting her evening on it, although she'd be careful to keep to the edge of harmless fun. Cookie didn't spend time with guys that were particularly pure and innocent; at least, after any time in her company, they wouldn't remain so for long.
She turned around in the direction of the locker room and gave him a rather exaggerated ass wiggle. Of course, this would have been much more seductive if her toestop hadn't caught in the floor and made her trip and nearly faceplant in the lane.
"Motherf - darn it." Cookie bit back her customary stream of blue invective; she needed to start her date - um, meeting - with Coach Churchcamp on the right footing. She did however have to reach behind her to adjust her tight shorts, which had ridden up into her asscrack during the ungraceful stumble; she hoped she'd managed to fix the pantywedge with a modicum of elegance. She wondered fleetingly, as she slid her index finger from the join of her shorts, whether he'd been watching, and if so, whether his face was blushing as prettily as she remembered. When she cast a quick glance over her shoulder, though, she saw him facing away from her, talking seriously to Smitty and one of the other girls. Fucking Christ on a pogo stick, he hadn't been watching.
Of course, it would have helped if she'd told Coach thirty minutes, instead of ten. She needed far more than that in order to get herself looking halfway decent again. Cursing vociferously to herself, she flung herself into the locker room, unlaced her skates in double quick time, pulled off her sweaty gear and headed into the shower. She had to elbow Andi to one side so she could wash her hair under the hot water.
Andi's look was somewhat appraising today, as she stood under the pouring water, surveyed the eagle tattoo on Cookie's left bicep and the inked, bleeding heart between her breasts. "Hot date?" she wanted to know.
"Business," said Cookie, rinsing out her hair and shutting off the water.
Andi stepped around her and turned the water back on. "The kiddie coach? You need to be careful, Cookie. You scare this one off, it'll be four coaches this year."
Cookie couldn't let this pass; she turned the water off and tried to sound reasonable. "Hon, seriously. It's just business. This is me, remember? I wasn't responsible for getting the last three sacked, screwed or scared off, in that order." Indeed, she hadn't been responsible for the others, and she wasn't planning on screwing or scaring off this one, either. Or getting him in the sack. No matter how cute his smile was. "Speaking of which, how is Kylie?"
"Still puking. Natalie took her home. Not sure if she'll survive the ride on the bike, though." Andi shrugged, deliberately casual, as if she didn't remember the time when she'd ridden that bike every day. They never talked about that, none of the girls did, even when Natalie got a new tattoo of a black, broken music note on her right hip.
After a while, Cookie nodded and backed out of the shower, and Andi turned the water on again.
In the locker room, Audrey had already changed back into her Lisa Loebs, track pants and hoodie, and was taking a huge bite of a cold Taco Bell burrito. Greasy wrappers and debris littered the benches - Natalie was kind of a slob when she ate, and she should be thanking her lucky stars that Kylie hadn't eaten, otherwise there would have probably been more debris on the floor, of an even less pleasant variety.
No time for Cookie to grab a bite; maybe she'd get something at the bar, or she'd just have to have a liquid dinner. Towel wrapped around her wet hair, she dug through her skate bag and scowled at her options. Sensible white panties were fine for a business discussion, but she could have brought the sexy black jeans with the strategic rip in it, rather than the comfortable blue ones she had in fact stowed. On the plus side, she'd brought the xx-small blue T-shirt that said, "I Gave My Word To Stop At Third". At last, a sentiment with which Coach Churchcamp might approve.
She pulled on her clothes with some difficulty, rubbed on moisturizer and lip balm and ran her fingers through her wet red hair. Fucking locker room hairdryer was broken, she looked like a drowned rat. She stared at herself in the one mirror and amended this to: a drowned rat with a rather impressive rack. She had another minute, maybe, so she drew eyeliner around her green eyes.
When she was done she turned to meet Audrey's curious gaze, over her glasses. "Goin' someplace?" her kid sister wanted to know, and of course she'd been so manic about the ten minute deadline she'd forgotten to mention it.
"Coach asked me to meet him for a bit, discuss the new formation," she said, which wasn't technically a lie. She dug around in her skate bag and threw the car keys at Audrey, who caught them neatly. "Why don't you drive our gear home? Take Andi with you, too, if she needs a ride. I'm sure we'll just go to the bar on the corner or something, and I can catch a ride, too, or the last bus."
"Not sure if the kid's old enough for the Litter Box," Audrey said, mildly. "You watch yourself, Davida Faye. I don't want to have to explain this to mom. Or to his mom, come to think of it."
"It's just business," repeated Cookie, firmly. She shoved her feet into her pointy-toed boots, put on the dozen or so steel and leather necklaces she liked to wear, and shouldered her way into her motorcycle jacket. She tugged her hair to give it some volume. Then she stood up, fierce and in control and nary a rucked-up pantywedge in sight.
--end Chapter 1. TBC...