Page 134 of False Start

twenty-eight

“Well,I don’t know about you guys, but I’m nervous enough to poop. You think that would be a penalty?” Rory asked as we watched the teams prep for the first round of elimination bouts.

“I don’t recall seeing poop in the rule book,” Marty said.

“I’m going to ask you to refrain from shitting on the track. Losing is one thing, going out like that…mmm, gonna have to give that a hard no,” Eve said.

Laser lights flashed and danced over the track in the center of the brand-new Ascend Sports Complex. Music rumbled in the background as ad images flashed on the screens, one facing in every direction for the audience stuck in the nosebleeds.

Not that we expected to pack the place today. This wasn’t about that. It was about charity…and it didn’t hurt Ascend to have the bit of good press that went along with it.

Priest waved his hand at us, calling us over to a quiet spot in the corner. “Okay, a quick rundown. These teams all know each other. You’re going to use that to your advantage,” he said, kneeling down while we all leaned in over him. “You’re not seasoned on the bank in the same way. You don’t have default moves. They’ve never seen you play. I know it sounds like those are all negatives. But they’re not. They’re all going to be your advantage out there.”

His gaze swept through all of us, his sole focus on the events today and getting us to tomorrow where we’d wake up and do it all again one last time.

I took my cues from him. Too much hung in the balance to do anything else but trust him and follow his lead.

Our other baggage, we’d left it in Galloway Bay. It wasn’t going anywhere.

“They haven’t been training the way you guys have. Their season ended just over a month ago and with the confidence they have in their experience, they would have done a few practices, but nothing even close to what you guys put in day in and day out. Use that.”

Jackson passed out water—yeah, he ended up coming with us because there was no way he was going to let Priest uninvite him—something about all that powerful feminine energy being his kryptonite or something like that.

“They’re already discussing you guys because you’re the only team new to bank. The conversation is dying almost as soon as it starts because they’re dismissing you as a non-threat which couldn’t be further from the truth. The first round they’re going to think you got lucky. But by the end of the second round, they’re going to realize they were wrong and should have been paying attention.”

“Oh, so that’s when they’re going to try to kick our ass in earnest then. Cool. Got it,” Tilly said, sounding just like one of us, making me smile.

I had to be honest, it was probably a dick move, but I had serious thoughts of pilfering her from her own derby team. She’d be perfect with us.

And she already worked with the kids at Crossroads like we did. It was a win-win.

“They’re going to hit that point where not only are you a threat, but you’re an interloper. So, they’re going to be looking to put you in your place. Don’t let them. They get no real estate in your head. Got it?” Priest said, piercing us with a glance one at a time.

“No room at the inn,” Dixie said, slapping on her helmet and letting the straps dangle. “Got it.”

“You’ve built up stamina when they haven’t. But they’re going to hit you harder and tap into your energy in a new way. Don’t let it psych you out. You have the endurance.”

“But really, if we poop out there…” Rory said, making us all laugh, breaking the thread of tension thrumming through us as a team.

“No shitting on the track. Hide your shame like the rest of us,” he said with a laugh. “Now, play hard, play clean, and remember why you’re here.”

Five rounds. Two quarters each.

We were the third bout of the morning. I didn’t know if I was happy about having the advantage of studying some of the teams now or if I just wanted to get in there and get this done. Every minute that stretched into the next, jam after jam, bodies colliding, the shouts, the grunts, jammers breaking away, came with a growing awareness that we were just like them.

Our story beginnings may have been radically different, the time invested unmatched, but nothing on that bank was a smoking gun giving one team an edge over another.

It would all come down to communication, perseverance, and laying everything we had on the track.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mayhem?” Priest asked, his arm resting against my shoulder—he did that—even though we agreed we needed to focus, he kept that physical connection in the smallest of ways.

Maybe for him. Maybe for me. Either way, it was exactly what I needed to put what came after out of my head and focus on now.

“I expected to feel like an underdog, but I don’t. Does that make me a conceited bitch?” I asked with a smirk.

“Not at all. You’re an athlete through and through. Your level of understanding when it comes to your competitors—it’s unmatched.”

“I—really?”

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