Chapter 14

"On me; take a knee!"

About the time Pete was knocking on Barbara's door with delusions of a romantic dinner date, the South Carolina volleyball team's last scrimmage before conference play was winding down. The exhausted players sprinted to their coach, forming a panting circle at her feet.

Her eyes swept over them, noting who had come through practice wiped out and who still looked ready for more. As usual, Collette was in a front and center position, sweating like everyone else but breathing evenly with her head up, shoulders back, eyes locked on.

"Ya'll looked pretty good out there," she began, with an emphasis on 'looked' that did not escape her audience. "You were confident, relaxed, knew your assignments, and performed to the best of your abilities."

"So do you think you're ready for Tennessee on Saturday?"

Silence. Her players knew her philosophy – failure to prepare was preparing to fail. There was always – always – one more thing you could do to get better, to prepare to win. You just had to look for it. They waited to hear what more they could do to beat the Vols before they stepped onto the court.

She smiled briefly. "Collette, come stand on the sideline."

Collette blinked in surprise but smothered it quickly as she scrambled up to stand next to the coach.

"I want you to pretend there is a two-by-four on top of the line. Now walk on the two-by-four to the end line and back."

After a brief pause to see if there were more to the exercise, Collette walked the line smoothly, pivoted like a gymnast on a balance beam and returned. The coach nodded to her, then took the whistle around her neck and made a harsh blast.

A side door opened and three members of the men's team emerged at run, two carrying step ladders and the third a ten foot long two-by-four. They quickly set the ladders up straddling the line, and suspended the two-by-four between them on the next-to-the-top step - eight feet off the floor. Two guys held the ends in place and steadied the ladders; the third stood underneath the board.

"Now, Collette, I want you to walk the two by four again."

Collette stared at her for a moment before moving to the nearest ladder. Climbing to the top she carefully stood on the top of the ladder and placed her right foot on the board. With a quick glance at the coach she slowly stepped forward, her eyes locked on the suspended path. She moved slowly across, the man staying under her the whole way.

When she reached the other side, the coach called out, "That's good Collette. Climb down that side."

She managed to turn and back down the ladder. As soon as she had, the men withdrew the two-by-four from the ladders and pulled them aside, placing the board on the sideline.

"Now walk back on the board." Collette walked back on the board smoothly and confidently.

The coach turned to the team. "Why did it take Collette longer to walk the board on the ladders than when it was on the floor?" She nodded at one of the raised hands.

"Because if she fell off the board on the ground she wouldn't get hurt, so she was more relaxed and could just do it. If she fell off the board in the air she could get hurt, so she had to be more careful."

"That's right. Now which one of the boards is like practice, and which one is like a real game?"

Everyone's eyes widened. "That's right. Practice is like waking a two-by-for on the floor. Games are like walking a two-by-four up in the air.

"The boards are exactly the same, just like the court and the nets are exactly the same. The steps to cross the board are the same, too.

"But the consequences of making a mistake in a real game make you think about what happens if you screw up, instead of trying to perform the best you can. You tense up and become careful, instead of just doing what you know you can do – what I know you can do."

She slowly scanned her team, meeting the eyes of every player, one after the other, in a silent effort to drive her point home. "Just be yourselves, and don't worry about the score so much." Then she clapped her hands briskly.

"All right, that's enough for today. It's your last weekend before the regular season starts, and I know there's a team party tonight. But try to keep yourselves under control. Don't waste all the effort we've made to get in shape by wrecking yourselves with booze and sex right before the opener."

She kept her face stern for several seconds, then smiled. "Well, not too much booze, anyway." The team broke out in laughter. "Hit the showers!"

The song was playing softly in her headphones as Collette looked out the car window.

I got the call today, I didn't wanna hear

But I knew that it would come

An old true friend of ours was talkin' on the phone

She said you found someone

And I thought of all the bad luck,

And the struggles we went through

How I lost me and you lost you

What are these voices outside love's open door

Make us throw off our contentment

And beg for something more?

(From "The Heart of the Matter," Don Henley)

Collette shook off her reverie when she noticed Cynthia saying something to her. She pulled her ears free. "What?"

"I am so going to get laid tonight," she replied, smoothing her short skirt suggestively over her thighs.

"Nice," laughed one of the girls in the front seat.

"And its high time you let some stud work you over, too," Cynthia added.

Still wary of her roommate, she didn't reply. Cynthia's jealousy of her as the only freshman to make the varsity roster was ill-concealed; and Collette suspected it was she that had left the article for her to find, about how high school relationships were doomed to fail.

"There will be a lot of hot guys there tonight. You should take one of them for a spin – you've earned it."

"We'll see," Collette replied noncommittally. Confiding to Cynthia that she was in fact horny wasn't going to happen. She wondered wistfully what Bobby was doing at the moment. It had been a while since she'd been laid, and she wondered - if an opportunity did present itself, could she resist the urge to jump on it? Should she?

Their car followed others in a team caravan onto the grounds of a sprawling house overlooking the city. Parking alongside dozens of cars in an adjacent field, they joined other players headed for the ten foot tall front doors, framed by a huge 'Welcome SC Volleyball' banner.

The season kick-off party was thrown annually by a wealthy attorney. Everyone had been encouraged beforehand to mix and network with the attending alumni boosters and former players who were there to rub shoulders with the current squad over a barbeque spread. There was ample incentive for the players to be friendly to their hosts, given the booster's contributions to fund the program's scholarships, and their connections to help players find jobs after graduation,

Collette and Cynthia found themselves last in a queue formed inside a marble-floored two-story high entry hall, waiting their turn to be greeted by a tall dark and handsome couple that looked to be in their mid-thirties.

A lengthy trophy case was embedded in an adjacent wall, full of SC volleyball memorabilia. Perusing it while they waited, Collette smiled in recognition.

Eventually reaching the head of the line, Cynthia said hello to the woman before immediately moving to make a two-handed grasp the extended hand of their male host. Collette's quick first impression was of a distinguished looking man in a perfectly tailored suit, a touch of grey just appearing at his temples.

She involuntarily rolled her eyes before grasping the host woman's hand and looking into a pair of the bluest oval eyes she had ever seen. Flicking her gaze downward, she saw generous dark pink lips that were upturned at one end with a subtle smirk; her pencil thin eyebrows arched briefly. Collette felt an instant connection at their shared assessment of Cynthia's near lunge at the woman's man.

"Welcome, Collette, I'm Morgan Bethany. I've been looking forward to meeting you – we've been hearing great things about you."

Collette smiled modestly. "Thank you, ma'am. I've heard of you too – as Morgan Porter though - you were an all-American at SC, right?" Up close Collette noted her broad shoulders and long legs tapering down to four inch heeled shoes – she looked like she could still suit up and play for the team.

"Please, call me Morgan. I did okay I guess," she said with a self-deprecating laugh that made her seem even more approachable. "You've done your homework; most assumed I'm this one's trophy-wife," she said with an affectionate nod towards her greeting partner.

Collette laughed back. "Well, then you shouldn't wear such a beautiful dress," she said, admiring the little black number she wore. "You certainly have a wonderful home, it's nice of you to do this for us."

Morgan's eyes seemed to flash for a moment before she turned, putting her hand on the man's arm to interrupt Cynthia in mid obsequious sentence.

"Dear, this is Collette Simpson; you know, the freshman that made varsity?"

Cynthia glared as he turned to take Collette's hand. "Welcome, Collette, I'm Andy Bethany. Congratulations. That's something you and Morgan have in common; she was well developed at a young age, too," he said with an exaggerated wink.

Cynthia gasped, and his wife aimed an elbow at his ribs, which he was obviously expecting as he easily blocked it before hugging a glaring Morgan. She pushed him away and took Collette's arm protectively. Lifting her nose in the air, she led her into the house. "Let's get away from this old lecher," she said, loud enough for both Andy and Cynthia to hear.

He sighed theatrically. "Well, I guess I'm in the dog house again. May I show you where the food is, uh..."

"Cynthia," the frowning girl prompted.

"Right. This way."

Collette circulated freely during the party, never landing for too long with any clique, but welcome at all. The middle-aged boosters were enthusiastic at spending time with a beautiful young woman that didn't shy away from some saucy banter, or become offended if their gaze kept surreptitiously returning to her big chest.

There had been a couple serious overtures from older men that she'd had to tactfully deflect among the otherwise harmless teasing. Two of the current men's team also made their interest in her known.

One pursuer was a sophomore still growing into his six foot five inch height, who declared his interest by repeatedly approaching only to become almost comically tongue-tied whenever she looked in his eyes. She found his infatuation as adorable as a fuzzy eared colt, but wasn't in the mood to play Pygmalion – she'd let someone else break him in.

The other was a senior known as a 'player' off the court, who professed to be bored by his fourth time attending the party. He had offered her a ride back to campus whenever she wanted to 'make a break for it, ' which she privately considered while steering him towards Cynthia – they seemed to have similar goals for the evening. But he hadn't given up on her yet. She wondered if she was giving off some bitch-in-heat scent that he was picking up.

But she most enjoyed spending time with their hosts. It turned out that Andy had also played for SC, having a solid if less spectacular career than his wife.

While many of the town's movers and shakers were openly fawning around them, Andy and Morgan didn't take the attention or themselves too seriously. They clearly enjoyed providing an understanding ear to her freshman struggles, relating how they'd dealt with similar situations with humorous stories and affectionate reminisces about their own college experiences. She found herself comfortably touching the hand or arm of whichever spouse she was talking to at the time, and they her in turn.

It was getting late in the evening when Collette followed Morgan to the kitchen, nominally in search of a glass of wine, but also to shake off the 'player' who was still hoping persistence and accumulated alcohol consumption would lead her to make an impulsive decision.