Unknown - Driven_589066

“No, I would choose her over you. Look at what you’re doing, Mother!”

“Ilene,” Cat’s father stood at the railing of the bedroom. “That’s enough, leave Cat alone and come to bed.”

The older woman looked to her husband and then to her daughter, without another word she turned and went upstairs leaving Cat mad and shaking.

A few minutes later Cat took the phone into the kitchen and dialed. She waited until Dylan picked up the phone and then she said the first thing that came

to mind. “I love you.”

Dylan drummed her fingers on the steering wheel; her mind was elsewhere, which was obvious by the sound of the horn behind her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…

give me a break.” She hit the gas and went through the light, taking a second to clear her thoughts.

She had managed to get Cat calmed down from last night’s unexpected confrontation without responding to the younger woman’s declaration. Cat hadn’t

even seemed to notice, but the whole thing had left Dylan re-examining her relationship with the star player.

Just when she didn’t think things could get worse, she got a call from Horace’s executive secretary. The old man was demanding that Dylan come to his

house. It was certainly the last thing on the planet the coach wanted to do, but Horace wrote the checks, and if he wanted to see her she really couldn’t

tell him to go to hell.

“Though you bet your ass I’d like to,” she growled into the rearview mirror.

Turning off the main road, she slowed the car so she could enjoy the drive out to the estate. The road she was on was public, but it was barely traveled,

making more like a private drive. She could just slow down and enjoy the scenery for a few minutes; it would give her time to try and figure out what

Horace wanted and maybe give her some answers about dealing with Cat.

Ten minutes later she pulled up to the gates that kept Horace’s house secluded and away from the fans that might want to kick the old goat’s ass. Dylan

was no closer to knowing what he wanted, but she had come to a conclusion about Cat. Take it one day at a time.

Not that she was frightened, exactly, or unaware of the steadily deepening feelings between herself and one Catherine Hodges. She didn’t know if she

could call it love yet. Then again, being who and what she was, she never had much practice with that particular emotion.

“There’s just so goddamn much at stake,” she muttered, hitting the button to lower her window as the callbox came into view.

Placing her finger on the “announce” button, she waited until a woman’s voice answered her buzz.

“Yes?”

“Dylan Lambert to see Mr. Johnson.”

“Of course, Dylan. Horace is expecting you. Please come up.”

The gate opened slowly, it’s chain making a noise that made it clear it needed a good oiling.

“Maybe he’ll get locked in.” Dylan chuckled as she pulled her car up to the house. Before she had time to remove her sunglasses the front door swung

open and a rather attractive older woman opened the door.

“Dylan,” she smiled, opening her arms for a hug. “I’m so glad to see you again!”

Dylan returned the embrace fully. She’d known Hellene Johnson for a number of years and liked her a great deal. She was dignified, warm, kind and giving;

the exact opposite, in other words, of her bigoted husband.

“Horace is with his doctor right now, but he’ll be with you shortly. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Wine? Something a bit stronger, perhaps?”

“Water would be fine.”

Hellene smiled, and Dylan found herself appreciating the woman’s genuine warmth all over again. Her anger at Horace grew. Why he felt the need to step

out with a succession of airheads with chest sizes equal to their IQ’s when he had a partner who so obviously cared for him was something she would

never understand.

“I’ll be right back.”

As Hellene left the room, Dylan stuffed her hands in her pockets, but began giving the room a through look over. On what appeared to be an antique chest

there were several photos. Inspecting them more closely, she found pictures of Horace and his wife along with a son and two daughters. She wasn’t

surprised to find the wife and the children looked happy but Horace always seemed to look as if he had a bad smell under his nose.

Hellene returned in short order and handed Dylan a tall glass of water. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Dylan settled on a long leather sofa and Hellene took a seat in the matching armchair.

“So tell me, Dylan, are you happy with the Badgers?”

“I am. The Badgers have the makings of a championship team.”

“Well, drafting Catherine Hodges was a stroke of genius on your part.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure your husband feels the same way.”

“Oh you have to ignore Horace most of the time. I promise you, his bark is far worse than his bite.”

Dylan smiled and sipped her water. “Well, having been on the receiving end of his bite—metaphorically speaking—a few times, I’d say they’re about

equal.”

A moment later, a tall man in an impeccably pressed suit entered the living room. “Hellene, Horace is fine. But I still want him to take it easy for a few

more days. And keep him off the liquor.”

“I do my best, James, but you know how he is.”

“I know if he doesn’t change his habits he’s going to be dead in a year. Pour it down the drain if you have to but keep him off it.”

“Yes James.” The older woman rose and showed the doctor to the door. “Dylan, if you’ll come with me.” She gestured down a long hall and Dylan rose to

follow her.

Horace was propped up in the massive bed and with several trade magazines spread all around him. The TV was tuned to ESPN, and the old man looked

like hell.

It might not be a long wait.

Dylan waited until the door was closed and they were left alone, then she took a couple steps toward the bed. “Horace.”

“Lambert. Glad you could come by.”

“You called. I came. You’re the boss.”

“I’m glad to see someone in my organization remembers that.” He gestured to a chair next to the bed. “But my being the boss isn’t enough to keep you on

the straight and narrow is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s going on between you and the Hodges dyke?”

“What?” Dylan managed indignant very well, she hoped it would be enough to side track him.

“I’ve been told that you’re spending a lot of time with her. Did you jump on the Sodomite chariot Ms. Lambert? Is that why you wanted her?”

Dylan rose to her feet. “I don’t believe this. One, there is nothing between Catherine and me other than a coach and player relationship.” Okay I’m going

straight to hell for that one. “Two, Catherine and I spend a lot of time together because she’s the team leader…”

“And why in the hell were you at dinner with her and her parents the other night?”

Trying her best to keep her boiling anger in check, she managed to stay calm enough to answer him. “Her father is a fan of mine and she invited me to

dinner so we could meet in a more informal and comfortable setting.”

“So you aren’t screwing around with her?”

“No, I can honestly say I’m not screwing around with her.” It’s a lot more than that you miserable bastard. She means more to me that a roll in the sack.

“Good. Then you won’t mind doing a little publicity thing I’ve set up for you.”

“I am not going out with Hunter Locke again. The man is an idiot.”

“It’s nothing like that. It’s a print ad for Nike. You do the ad and the team gets a season’s worth of new gear, with an option for renewal if they like what