Page 101 of Hotshot

Sloane swung her Jeep into a free space in the club parking lot, then cut the engine. The silence was golden for a few seconds, as she sat, composing herself. “You should know, once I decide I want something, I normally get it.” She leaned across and placed a light kiss on Ella’s lips. She still couldn’t believe she got to do that every day, with no worries. Ella’s new role had been rubber-stamped, with management having no objections to their relationship continuing. Sloane was free to kiss her girlfriend whenever and wherever she wanted. “You were on the list of things I wanted, just in case you were wondering.”

“I figured.” Ella smiled as she unclicked her seatbelt. “How many tickets have you sold?”

“In the region of 25,000, which is outstanding for a game with nothing at stake.”

“Your star power behind it.”

“I have superpowers I never even knew.” The sun’s rays tickled her face as she got out of her car, and put on her new shades. She waited at the hood for Ella, and they walked to the stadium hand in hand.

Ella squeezed it before she spoke. “Everyone’s coming today. My family. Your family. Everyone together for a meal. Are you nervous?”

Sloane shook her head. She’d be nervous if it were her parents. But Cathy and co? She couldn’t see a day where anything they said or did ever dimmed her love and admiration for them. Ever since they’d come into Sloane’s life, they’d brought nothing but positivity. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to repay them for showing her how family could be.

“It’ll be grand. We’ve got the Big Shootout, we’re getting Kilminster off to a flier, and the new women’s team is getting some much-needed publicity and funds. What’s not to love?”

Ella pushed through the stadium doors, before turning to her. “You’re not just a pretty face, Sloane Patterson.”

“I know. Apparently, I’m a hotshot, too.”

* * *

They were in the tunnel,tension carved into the faces of all the penalty-takers. Including Ella. Sloane was used to pressure penalties, but sometimes, she forgot the simple act of running onto the field could cause anxiety. She’d been doing it her whole life, it was second nature to her. She clapped her hands and got everyone’s attention in seconds.

“First, welcome to the Salchester Rovers’ tunnel. I hope you’re drinking it in. This is where so many greats have stood, pre-game. Now, you’re in the same club.”

Nervous chuckles filled the air. This would be so different in her homeland. There, every person would be high-fiving and vocal. But here, they’d all shrunk into their shells, contemplating what was ahead. The cultural differences were never more stark. It was Sloane’s job to relax these people, make them believe.

“Second, thank you so much for supporting grass roots football, and for paying £500 to take a penalty against Salchester’s men’s and women’s keepers in the Big Shootout. There are 100 of you, 50 men and 50 women, which means you’ve raised £50,000 for Kilminster United with your generosity. That’s before they take their share of the gate for the match afterwards. Your money is helping save Kilminster men’s side, and helping to create a Kilminster women’s team, too.”

Pride prickled all over her skin. “My great-grandparents played for the team, my family still do to this day, and I’m proudly donning their new kit this afternoon in the friendly game between Salchester and Kilminster.” She paused, and stared around these faces she was so very grateful to. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Sloane took a breath. “But now is the moment you’ve all been waiting for: you get to shoot your goal. Do you want the advice of someone who’s done this a million times?”

“Yes please!” shouted the woman next to her. She was kitted out in the new Kilminster shirt, sponsored by Sloane in honour of her great-grandmother. The words ‘Let Women Play’ were emblazoned on the front, with ‘In honour of Eliza Power’ far smaller on the back. Sloane had spent ages trying to come up with something clever, but in the end, the answer was the most obvious. Those were the words Eliza would have wanted, because it was what she’d wanted way back when. With Sloane’s new sponsorship deal, and this fundraiser’s total, she hoped Kilminster would be set for a good couple of seasons ahead.

“Here’s my advice, which is solid if you’ve never taken a penalty before, or if you’ve taken dozens. Enjoy it. Relax. Decide where you’re going to put it, and stick with that plan. Also, remember that doing this takes guts. Yes, even in a non-game situation. You’re still stepping up and putting yourself out there, beyond your comfort zone. Life is all about experiences, and you’re about to experience something that most people never will. Have fun, and let’s try to score 100 great penalties out there, shall we?” She paused. “Ready?”

One hundred pairs of wide eyes stared back at her.

To her right, Ella mouthed the word “No!” in her direction.

Sloane bit down a grin. “I said, are you ready?”

This time, she got the response she wanted.

“Then let’s go!”

* * *

Ella took deep breaths,and tamped down her nerves. Her heart thumped in her chest as she gazed out into the rapidly filling up stands. The match was due to start in half an hour, but plenty of supporters had got in early to cheer the penalties. Every run up had brought a cheer from the crowd, and every one that hit the back of the net had been celebrated as if it were a cup-winning goal.

Running onto the pitch in full kit had stirred up all sorts of emotions which Ella thought were well behind her. Apparently not. But now, here she was, the 50th female penalty taker in this charity shootout. At the other end, the men’s keeper Fraser Holt still had five of his 50 to go. Women got on with things with far less fuss.

“Ready for your shot at the big time, Carmichael?” Sloane placed the ball on the spot and held her whistle in her hand, just as she had for the previous 49 penalties. Sloane’s officious side turned Ella on far more than was necessary, but she pushed that thought from her mind. She wasn’t going to glance at her girlfriend’s muscular, firm thighs that she’d licked earlier this morning. Not even for a second.

“Remember what I said?”

Ella narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need a Sloane penalty masterclass right now. “Shut up now, please.”

Sloane mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away the key, then stepped back.

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