Whipped, page 9
Cheyenne brushed leaves and dirt off her clothes as she stepped over the hedge. “Yep. Thanks.”
Embarrassment erased the aches in her body as she bolted for the walkway leading to the gym, a small exercise room with a wall of glass overlooking the pool was empty.
Relieved that no one was there to wonder what the hell she was doing, Cheyenne set her sights on the space between the three treadmills and the free weight area.
Using the step platforms stacked in the corner, Cheyenne created a series of four obstacles. Increasing in height incrementally from an inch to six inches, the platforms would train her to pass the jump test.
After an hour, Cheyenne had jumped so many times she could barely move. Sprawled on the weight bench panting and covered in sweat, she was utterly exhausted. Tomorrow, she’d do it on wheels.
While she waited to recuperate, Cheyenne imagined what Erica looked like while practicing to pass the minimum skills test. Had she even needed to practice? She’d probably chasséd all over the rink like she’d been born on skates. She didn’t sweat or fall or struggle. Her tall, perfect frame was incapable of anything but gliding flawlessness.
Cheyenne willed herself to her feet. She might not be as graceful, but that didn’t matter. Derby wasn’t ballet and if she worked hard enough, she’d get there just the same. She didn’t have to look like a goddess while she did it.
CHAPTER 15
ERICA PULLED off her helmet and ran her fingers through her sweaty hair. There was nothing more unflattering than helmet hair and hers was too short to braid like the others did.
“Good work, Hells!” she shouted as her team, dressed in their black practice uniforms, skated toward her.
Lady MacDeath, her long braids dyed black and bright blue, was the first to roll up to where Erica dropped her body at the edge of the empty bleachers. “I’m not sure we needed to run a full scrimmage. We’re playing the Losers on Saturday.
We could show up with just a jammer and a pivot and still win.”
“At least there’s truth in advertising,” Artillery Clinton joked, her pierced lip curved in a smile.
“We can’t take anything for granted,” Erica warned. “How embarrassing would it be to lose to them?”
“And that’s why you’re our fearless leader, Ricky,”
Artillery said with a wink. “Always with your eye on the jam.”
Erica flashed a momentary smirk until the fresh meat that had been practicing with them rolled up. Some of them had been training with the Hells for over a year and still weren’t even close to joining the main team.
As Erica distributed tasks for post-practice clean up and game day, she watched Trish. It had been nearly a year since their split, but the sight of her laughing while her fingertips grazed the bulge of Randi’s bicep made her stomach clench.
It didn’t seem like that long ago she’d touched her like that. That they’d been lost in the warm confines of Erica’s bed.
Tangled in each other under her sheets. The memory stung.
She hated how her lips tingled at the memory of her kiss. How she still yearned for it.
The memory morphed into Trish’s face sheepishly telling her that she and Randi had gotten serious. To add insult to injury, she’d wanted her blessing. When Erica didn’t rush to give it, Trish asked if she wanted her and Randi to leave the team.
Sometimes she wished she’d taken her up on the offer. She regretted not listening to everyone’s advice about not mixing romance and derby. When all was said and done, Erica had given her blessing along with an offer to divorce them for free if it went badly. Not her finest moment.
“Ricky.” Lady’s voice snapped her back to the present.
“You good?”
Erica cleared her throat and barked a few more orders for good measure before dismissing the pack. As she unlaced the black laces on her black skates, Lady sat next to her and did the same. They’d decided on matching skates years ago. It added to their professionalism and intimidated their opponents. There could be no doubt that they took their game seriously. It was one of the reasons they were the best in their region.
“Are you coming to Reggie’s tonight? It’s two for one pitchers,” Lady asked as she wrapped her braids into a bun on top of her head.
Erica hesitated, her attention snapping to Trish and Randi, who were still chatting in a group. She wounded herself by focusing on the small diamond glinting on the chain around Trish’s neck. The one she would put back on her finger the moment practice was over.
“You can’t miss out on the social stuff because of them, Ricky,” Lady murmured reasonably.
She waited until no one was left within earshot to reply.
Erica wasn’t in the habit of airing her personal business for everyone to see. Even if she weren’t team captain, she’d still be hesitant. Among a sea of close acquaintances, Lady was a real friend.
“It’s just too hard,” Erica admitted so quietly that Lady didn’t hear her over the roar of the skates as the meat picked up the cones lined up near them.
“I’m happy to run interference for you,” Lady offered, her dark eyes gleaming. “I’ll order the nachos with extra guacamole so we don’t even have to share.”
Erica chuckled, her chest warming. “How can I resist an offer like that?”
Half an hour later, Erica was at the end of a long table flanked by Lady and Artillery while twenty other Hells laughed and talked. Erica wished she could join them. If only it was just Trish’s hand tucked so casually between Randi’s thighs that was bothering her.
It had been a long day. As she sipped the light beer in her cold glass, she stopped trying to forget it. Instead, she let herself feel disappointment.
She’d been so angry that morning when she saw Cheyenne doing what she should have done the day before. Her mentee had never struck her as a lazy. She was other things. A push over. A bit of a brown-noser. Not lazy.
Anger had only lasted from Cheyenne’s office to her own.
By the time she tried to slam her soft-close glass door, it had dissolved into disappointment.
At least she hadn’t tried to justify her actions. Erica gave her that much credit. She looked appropriately humiliated by her failure. A failure Erica made clear she would not tolerate twice.
To be candid if only with herself, Erica admitted that Cheyenne had pulled out the stops to recover. She’d put her head down and worked without asking for help to get the job done.
Erica had waited for her to come tearing into her office in shambles and begging for help. Instead, she’d waltzed in twenty minutes before they had to leave for court with the proposed order in one hand, all the financials in the other.
If only she hadn’t looked so expectant when she handed over her work. What did she want? A pat on the head for doing her job? The disappointment etched in her face made it obvious she wanted something she didn’t get.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been up doing God knows what to be so tired. An intrusive image tore through her mind.
Cheyenne’s wavy brown hair thrown back in a moment of lust.
She banished it immediately.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Lady said as she approached with a pitcher of beer and topped off her glass.
“They’re not worth that much,” Erica joked as she lifted her glass and clinked it against Lady’s in thanks.
“Oh, I bet plenty of people would pay good money to know what’s in there,” she replied with a smile. “Somebody like that blonde sitting at the bar.”
Erica’s eyes reflexively traveled to where Lady was looking. To her surprise, a decidedly attractive woman with an undercut and two arms full of tattoos was gazing at them while she talked to a dude with a long beard.
“I figured you didn’t notice because you’ve been in your head even more than usual lately,” Lady said as she took her seat to Erica’s left.
“She probably wants to ask about joining the team,” Erica guessed when the blonde looked away and then back at her.
Lady laughed. “I’m pretty sure she would’ve already asked one of us if she was curious. It’s not like you’ve got team captain written on your forehead.”
Erica didn’t have an immediate response. The prospect of a woman being interested in her was too much. Blondie would realize in two seconds that Erica looked better from far away.
From a distance she was the strong and silent type. She’d also been called tall, dark, and handsome. Up close, she was
terrible at small talk and her awkwardness came off as cold indifference, a trait she blamed on her parents’ decision to homeschool her so they could live their Bohemian lifestyle. It was great for her academic achievement, but not so much for learning how to relate to people. It was better for all parties involved to avoid disappointment.
“I’m heading out,” Erica announced as she stood.
“Come on, Ricky. Don’t go.” Lady put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve got an early morning,” she replied without considering Lady’s request.
Despite her teammates’ protestations and the blonde’s lingering looks, Erica paid a hundred dollars on their tab and started for home.
CHAPTER 16
WITH EARBUDS IMBEDDED in her ears, Erica listened attentively to a recorded deposition. She hoped the five-year-old audio would reveal something for her to use at her hearing next week. If there was an inconsistency, she would exploit it.
A figure appeared in her peripheral vision as she jotted down a quote and the timestamp. From the navy-blue dress and well-defined legs, she knew exactly who it was. It had been nearly a week since the child support fiasco, but Erica was still annoyed. In an unrestrained moment of pettiness, she pretended not to see her and hoped she’d go away.
The knock on the door and hand waving made Cheyenne impossible to ignore. Despite herself, Erica glanced at the door. After a long, intentional breath, she pulled an earbud out of her ear, leaving the other one in to send a clear message that her time was limited.
“Are you super busy?” Cheyenne asked, her glossy pink lips stretched into a smile.
How could anyone be so happy all the time? It must be exhausting.
Erica thought of a dozen responses. No, I like to sit here and stare at a blank screen. Does it look like I’m busy? What does it matter as you’ve already interrupted me? Or maybe just a simple yes.
Apparently in Cheyenne’s world not getting an immediate response was akin to an invitation. She strode into her office, crossed one bare leg over the other before tucking a strand of
wavy light brown hair behind her ear and opened a notepad she’d tucked under her arm.
By all means, make yourself comfortable.
“I was looking at the Perez-Fine case,” she started, oblivious to Erica’s growing irritation or perhaps eliciting it on purpose with her innocent act. “I think it has the potential to go to trial.”
When Cheyenne’s attention snapped up from her notes without warning, her eyes caught Erica off guard. Today the dark green was barely visible, leaving a bright honey hue that fractured into so many different shades it was impossible not to become transfixed by them.
“What makes you say that? Your wealth of experience?”
Erica took refuge from the unsettling chemical reaction in her body by tossing a barb. Even if it wasn’t a particularly clever one.
Instead of shrinking, Cheyenne offered a little smirk before getting back to her thought.
Feeling brave, are we? Erica expected her to be contrite a while longer but was a little pleased she wasn’t dwelling in self-pity. Part of learning from a mistake was knowing when to move on.
“It looks like they’re not going to agree on anything,”
Cheyenne continued. “In sixteen months, neither one of them has conceded a single thing. Not even who gets the cat. You’d think a couple of neurosurgeons would be a little more dispassionate and reasonable. They don’t have any children
—”
“It’s a battle of the egos,” Erica explained, leaning back in her chair and turning to the side to focus on the important topic instead of Cheyenne’s face. “Neither one wants to give an inch. Dissolutions like this just take time. At some point their desire to move on will be stronger than their will to fight over every measly asset.”
“Or…” Cheyenne’s elongation of the r was so playful, Erica couldn’t help but snap to attention. Her unexpected
smile was a sucker punch to the gut. “Dr. Perez met someone at a convention, and he wants to move things along.” She produced a folded over piece of paper she’d hidden in her notepad for obvious dramatic effect.
Erica lifted her chin, straining her eyesight and wishing she could read it upside-down to avoid giving Cheyenne the satisfaction of knowing she piqued her curiosity. Cheyenne’s confidence was nearly as disconcerting as her uncharacteristic ease. She had no interest in adding fuel to the flames.
“Why did he email you?” Erica asked, identifying enough words in the message to get the gist.
“Because I emailed him first,” she replied simply.
Tilting her head to the side, Erica waited for her to explain.
It was obvious she’d staged a theatrical moment. She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of playing along.
“There are more than a few cases that have stagnated,”
Cheyenne leaned forward as she explained, her cheeks brightening. “Nothing is really scheduled. They’re just in a holding pattern.”
Erica was at once proud of her initiative and annoyed that she assumed no one was working on them. “And it never occurred to you that they were in holding patterns for a reason?” she asked as coldly and dryly as she could manage.
Cheyenne’s smile didn’t dim, and her face didn’t flush. “I figured there was no harm in checking in to see how they were doing.” She shook the foot crossed over her leg in a steady rhythm like a cat swishing her tail, reflexively drawing Erica’s attention to her bare skin. “Dr. Perez took it as a sign that it was time to press forward, and he doesn’t want to give anything up.”
What the hell? Did she grow a full backbone over night?
There was no obvious reason why she was impervious to Erica’s attempts to rock her.
“That can only mean trial, right?” The Cheyenne Erica was accustomed to appeared in the woman’s wavering tone. Doubt
cracked the edges of Cheyenne’s certainty, just enough for Erica to regain her balance.
“There are quite a few steps between preliminary matters and trial.” She guarded herself against Cheyenne’s optimism.
She’d been disappointed so many times before. “It will really depend on his pain point and Dr. Perez-Fine’s as well. Odds are exceptionally high that they will settle, especially if one of them has moved on emotionally.”
Cheyenne cocked her head to the side, causing the tips of her hair to brush against the sliver of collarbone exposed by her dress. “But it’s possible.”
Erica dug her blunt, manicured nails into her palm.
Cheyenne’s demeanor was unnerving. “A lot of things are possible,” she responded flatly despite the thumping in her neck.
The tip of Cheyenne’s tongue peeked out to moisten her bottom lip, increasing the temperature in the room and causing Erica to avert her gaze to the door.
“Do you really think that?”
“Think what?” Erica asked, her brows knitted and skin warming. She was at once desperate for Cheyenne to leave and painfully intrigued by what was happening. Her behavior was producing an addictively confusing haze. It was what she imagined role playing might be like. The thought was as thrilling as it was inappropriate.
“That anything is possible,” Cheyenne clarified, her words soft and thick against Erica’s ears.
She wrestled herself into composure and sat up. “I guess given the right circumstances, sure. Anything is possible.
Whether it’s probable is another question.”
Cheyenne smiled, revealing the single dimple Erica hadn’t seen since her first day. Had she not given her that many opportunities to express happiness? The realization was suddenly shameful.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Cheyenne asked abruptly, her cheeks in full flush, reminding her of the usual
Cheyenne. It was the splash of cold water she needed.
“Set up a meeting with Dr. Perez,” Erica demanded without answering the strangely personal question. “Let’s see how serious he really is and how far he’s willing to go.”
Cheyenne nodded. “It’s good to know where the limits are,” she said, her gaze dropping from Erica’s eyes and lingering on her lips before she stood.
When she was gone, Erica relaxed her clenched muscles.
What the actual hell was that? She couldn’t have been hitting on me … but why else would she be asking about the weekend?
Confused and bewildered, Erica placed the earbuds in her ears and got back to something she understood. Work.
“CHEERS TO THE NEWEST SORE LOSER!” Anwar sang over the roar of music and scores of conversations as he approached the end of the bar where Cheyenne and Dasia were seated.
“Congrats, but y’all should really do something about that team name.” Dasia clinked her glass against Cheyenne’s, sending cold beer spilling over Cheyenne’s hand.
Unbothered by the splash, Cheyenne laughed. Her body was still buzzing from the happy hour she’d had with her new team to celebrate making the cut. “Yeah, maybe when I’m actually in a position to play, I’ll toss that out there.”
“Hey, you never know.” Anwar pointed at her before taking a generous sip from his pint glass.
“I’m a third string blocker.” Cheyenne laughed, enjoying the giddiness being tipsy always gave her. “Do you know how many people have to be out for me to go in?”
“I’m just saying, anything’s possible,” he replied with a goofy smile and a shrug.
The turn of phrase teleported her back to Erica’s office.
She shouldn’t have gone in there so soon after finding out
she’d made the team. She was too exuberant. Too reckless.
