Page 4 of Ready to Score

Whether it was the stares she received on the sidelines at games or the new players who—every damn year without fail—she had to coach into respecting her knowledge and authority.

She had her dreams. Ones that involved her name next to the “Head Coach” title in the trophy case. Ones that involved respect and reverence. Ones where people didn’t constantly question whether she deserved to be where she was. But she’d be a complete fool if she didn’t acknowledge that what she was fighting against to realize those dreams was much bigger than she was.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to work hard as hell to make them happen. Nor was she going to sit around feeling sorry for herself. Giving up or giving in were not in her nature.

Well, maybe in her logical mind she knew that. She was the youngest coach on the team, the one who’d been in her job the shortest amount of time. Neither her gender nor race were viewed favorably for a position like this. But that just meant she had something to give this team that none of the other guys did. If it took beating their asses at poker to prove it, then she had no qualms about that either.

2

Francesca Lim was good at wiggling her way into things. Remaining somewhat of an unexpected choice, using shy smiles and her quiet nature to remain unassuming until she was able to snap something up. This had been the case her entire life. With romantic relationships, with convincing grumpy ladies at the DMV to bend the rules for her, and with work too.

She hadn’t even known about the weekly poker game at Coach Landry’s house until two days ago. Her only real friend at work—as in someone she willingly hung out with outside the walls of Greenbelt Senior High—was Jeremy Bell. He was a tall, lanky white man who coached soccer—probably the least well-regarded sport in the entire school. As head coach, he apparently had a set place at the table, but he’d kept it a secret from her—that is, until they’d gotten drunk at the bar the other night and he’d started lamenting about how he wasn’t going to attend anymore because he was tired of the other guys making fun of him.

Francesca felt for him—kind of. But he was one of the mayor’s nephews and his wife was sexy as hell, so she felt confident that he’d fare just fine. Much less drunk than he was and sensing an in, she’d managed to worm her way into an invitation on the grounds thatshe was, one, really fucking great at poker, and two, trying to “make more connections in Greenbelt.”

She’d been teaching art at Greenbelt Senior High for two years, and for roughly twenty-two months of that time, Franny’d had her eye on her own personal pie in the sky. Assistant coach—offensive line first, then head coach second, when the time came. There were only so many positions to fill, and since she’d been there, no one had left.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d been in Minnie’s Diner standing in the line behind the hostess stand, waiting to order a burger and fries to go. In front of her were two assistant football coaches, ones who coached but didn’t work at the school full-time. She didn’t know their names, but there was a bald one and a redheaded one. She was there, minding her business, when she saw Baldy look around conspiratorially, trying to make sure no one was listening. Immediately, she knew whatever he had to say would be juicy. So the second he shot her a look and saw that she had little earbuds in, she tapped them twice to pause her music.

“I think Landry’s got his eye on Dunn for his spot when the season’s over,” Baldy said about the team’s head coach and her favorite math teacher to fluster.

“How do you figure?” Red questioned.

“Just a feeling. Pretty sure he’s been eyeing her for a while, probably since she started.”

“Hmmm.” Red seemed to be the contemplative sort. “I figure she’s the only one worth mentoring. I’m not saying the rest of us aren’t good in our own right, but we’re all too old for that shit.”

“You’re not thinking of throwing your hat in the ring?” Baldy asked.

“And drive my ass into an early grave worrying about Greenbelt’s legacy?” Red shook his head. “I want us to win as much as anybody else on that team, but I’ve got five years until I retire and me andSuzie can roast our pale asses on a beach down in Florida. I love this sport, but being head coach is just asking for a heart attack.”

Whatever response Baldy had was interrupted when the hostess came to take them to a table. Suddenly, Franny found herself out of earshot, still reeling from the information she’d been inadvertently given.

Coach Landry was stepping down as head coach at the end of the season, and Jade Dunn seemed to be his number one replacement prospect.Seemedbeing the operative word. There was still time for Franny to do what she did best and wiggle her way in there. Into an assistant coaching job if she could get it, but head coach if she somehow found herself overrun with luck. Either way, the door was open, even if it hadn’t been opened for her specifically.

She sure as hell wasn’t about to let it close on her.

So here she was having to scheme. She might have been ashamed if she didn’t believe she had plenty to benefit the team. It wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve the job. To be fair, going about it the old-fashioned way wouldn’t have worked for her anyway. She wasn’t an old-fashioned girl. Not in the way she coached, and not according to who she was.

When she’d found out Jade Dunn was an assistant football coach, Franny had nearly coughed up a lung. She was from Houston, and in Texas, where football was only one step under God—officially—the same misogyny that ran rampant in the church was just as prevalent on the football field. She’d met two other women high school football coaches in the entire state, of which there were still only a handful. And of those, none of them were Asian women. To be fair, though, a few of them were lesbians, so there was that.

Before she’d left home, she’d coached an Amateur Athletic Union football team, and she’d clawed her way into that position too. Aside from her parents, that job had been the hardest thing for her to say goodbye to. But she’d done it willingly because she was nothing if not a fool for love. Even the scant, flighty promise of love apparently.She’d left her dream job and all its promise of advancement behind for a woman and had come up short, with very little to show for it. Now that she knew there was opportunity, Franny wasn’t afraid to sharpen her nails and get those claws back out to make something for herself on this team.

She wasn’t afraid of the guys. That required its own strategy. One that was definitely a delicate balance, but one she knew well enough how to handle. It was Ms. Dunn who had the ability to throw a rusty wrench in her plans.

Franny hoped like hell that there could be room for them both on the team. She wasn’t interested in taking someone else’s job, especially when she knew they’d fought for it. She only wanted a spot of her own. And Dunn already hated her. Every time they passed each other in the hall or so much as caught eyes, Dunn would give Franny a look so withering she felt it zing her nipples.

From what she’d seen, Ms. Dunn wasn’t the warmest in general, but damn did she hate Franny. Which made very little sense, because Franny had never so much as sniffed wrong in her direction.

Whatever.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Dunn could hate her all she wanted, so long as she didn’t try to sabotage her. Anyway, as far as she knew, Dunn didn’t have the same invitation Franny now held. If she played her cards right, she could get her in before Dunn ever even discovered she was looking for one.

Now it was Thursday night, and Franny was standing behind Jeremy on the porch of Coach Landry’s Craftsman-style home.

“What am I even supposed to tell them?” Jeremy whined. He’d been trying to convince her not to come all day. “You’re not supposed to be here, Fran, because my silly ass wasn’t supposed to get drunk and tell you about it.”

“I’ll do the talking.” Franny patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Trust me.”

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