Shelly Laurenston: The Mane Squeeze

A hyena and a lioness went for her, but Cheeky Charming—a ligress who was bigger than Lock’s mom—took them both out, allowing Gwen to zip past. McNelly went for her, but Pop-A-Cherry slammed into her from behind, sending the She-wolf spinning and landing in front of Gwen, but Lock’s tigon went up and over. Unfortunately, because her skates weren’t touching the track, McNelly wouldn’t count for any points. But at least Gwen was able to keep going, shooting around the track for another pass. She’d passed another Furrier, tying the teams, but before she could go past the next Blocker, the Pivot hit her from the side and slammed her into the rails. The Furriers came at her and would probably tackle her to the ground. So, with only two seconds left on the clock, she called off the jam by putting her hands to her hips twice.

Then the Furriers took her down anyway, slamming her to the track.

The crowd cheered and booed with equal vigor and Lock let out a breath.

“You’re worried about her,” Roxy observed, although her eyes stayed focused on the track.

“Of course he’s worried,” his mother answered for him. “They’re going after your daughter like a polar after a baby seal. He doesn’t want her irreparably harmed.”

Suddenly incredibly strong hands gripped Lock’s face, squeezing his cheeks so hard his lips pursed out and it hurt.

“ You ,” Roxy said, with what Lock would consider an inordinate amount of enthusiasm, “are a sweet, sweet grizzly.” She squeezed harder. “I just adore you, baby-boy.”

Struggling with his desire to knock Roxy out of the stands merely to get her hands off his face, Lock said, “T’ank you.” Which was the best he could manage with her squeezing so hard.

“Mom approval,” Jess whispered in his ear once Roxy had released her hold. “Check.”

“Quiet.”

Gwen waited in the infield with her team while the refs conferred with the coaches and captains.

“They’re probably going to go into overtime. You up for that?”

Gwen nodded at Blayne’s question and took the clean rag she handed her so she could wipe off some of the sweat and blood.

“What about your shoulder?”

“It’ll hold up. I just need Ma to shove it back into place.”

Cherry rolled over to them and stopped in front of Gwen. “This is the deal—their team has four girls out, we have about five.” Only two from each team were out due to injuries. The others had been thrown out of the game during a particularly nasty melee, which led to the four game-ending injuries. “Plus, they called a personal foul on Gwenie.”

“Which means what?” Blayne asked.

“They’ve suggested a two-lap duel with Gwen.”

The Babes rolled their eyes, threw up their hands, and made all sorts of noises suggesting annoyance, but Gwen didn’t. Yet she could understand their annoyance. If she made it around the track twice, she’d get two automatic points and they’d win the East Coast championship. But she wouldn’t be out on that track alone. One player from the other team would be out there with her and there were even fewer rules in the two-lap duel than there were in general. That player could cut through the infield, use the bodies of other teammates to slow Gwen down, or stomp on Gwen with her skates. A no-holds-barred event.

“Who suggested it?” Gwen asked while her teammates grumbled.

Cherry smirked. “McNelly.”

“Forget it,” Blayne said.

“I’m in.”

Blayne grabbed her arm. “Excuse us.” She dragged Gwen a bit away from the team and asked, “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“I’m in, Blayne. I’m doing this. Just me and her.”

“I love you, Gwen. I really do. But you’ve lost your fucking mind. That bitch could care less whether you get any points out there. All she cares about is killing you. Killing you a lot .”

“I’m doing it.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs to learn there are liabilities to being a prick.”

“Good plan if she weren’t a sociopath.”

“I’m doing it.” She looked over at Cherry. “I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“No!” Blayne barked.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She focused back on Blayne. “I’m doing this.”

“You’re an idiot.”

She leaned against her friend. “You sweet talker you. Now shove my shoulder back, I can’t wait for Ma.”

“That’s right, folks!” the announcer gleefully intoned. “It’s going to be a two-lap duel. Two minutes have been put on the clock. If the jammer makes it around the track twice, the Assault and Battery Park Babes win. If the blocker keeps her from getting around the track in those two minutes, the Staten Island Furriers win!”

“Oooh!” Brody MacRyrie applauded behind Ric. “A two-lap duel! How exciting!”

But when Ric looked at his friend, all he could see was panic in the bear’s eyes and he worried that the grizzly was about to do something stupid.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ric tried to assure him, using his most calming voice. Always best to keep the grizzlies calm and rational. Did these people have any concept what a crazed bear could do to their precious stadium? “Right, Roxy? It’s going to be fine, right?”

Roxy was busy chewing her lip until she realized both men were staring at her, waiting for their fears to be assuaged. She stopped, forced a smile, and said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“You are lying to me! ” Lock growled, making Smitty tense up since Jess was still resting around the bear’s shoulders like a mink stole.

“Baby-boy, now calm down.” Roxy took Lock’s hand in hers and patted it. “My Gwenie knows what she’s doing.”

“Your Gwenie will do anything to make sure her team wins, because she hates that woman so much. And although your daughter is, on most days, a little psychotic, Donna McNelly is a sociopath . She just wants to kill her.”

Roxy let out a sigh. “I know.” Wait. How was that helpful?

“She’ll be fine,” Ric said again, hoping he was right. Of course, as he watched the battered, bruised, and weary-looking Gwen roll onto the track and then the barely bruised, much bigger, and wide-awake She-wolf roll on after her, Ric realized that he definitely had his doubts.

Panting, Gwen rested one hand on the railing and one hand on her waist.

“How ya doin’, little kitty?” McNelly taunted. “You sure you’re up for this? I don’t know, you took some bad hits during that last jam. And you look so tired. You tired? People never realize how long two minutes can be, huh? But we know, don’t we, little kitty?”

While McNelly kept going on, Gwen looked down at the hand on her waist. Her eyes narrowed. Was her nail polish chipped or had she cracked her nail? She leaned in a bit, examining it a little more. Letting out a sigh, she relaxed back. Nail polish chipped . That was good. She had no desire to pay Blayne five bucks.

The ref stood diagonally from her but still in the infield. “Just a reminder,” he said. “To make two complete laps your feet have to mostly be on the track. Any leaps over ten feet—whether vertical or horizontal—won’t be counted, understand?”

Gwen nodded.

“She can come at you from any direction and in any way. Fangs and claws are now allowed . Whatever you do, don’t stop. You’ve got two minutes, hon.” He briefly glanced at McNelly before adding, “And good luck.”

He clamped the whistle between his lips, pointed his arm at her, and blew. Gwen took off, but McNelly wasn’t behind her. As the game had progressed, Gwen had become really good at sensing where the blockers were coming from. And this time McNelly had cut through the infield and was going to meet her on the other side.