Page 4 of Lochlan

I sneeze into my tissue and sniff. God, I hate colds.

Pru inches away a little, concerned germs might land on her. “Bless you? You know, you don't look that good. Do you think you'll be well by Friday?”

My head thumps against the headboard twice in frustration. I'm exhausted, uncomfortable, and my teeth ache. “Why? We don't have a scheduled practice until next week.”

Pru's picking at my quilt, looking sheepish. “Yeah, you're right, nothing official is on the schedule, but QC is calling court.”

I sink down into my pillow, defeated; I thought I might have more time.

“Poppy has sent you an invitation to attend her at court. You'll receive your challenge on Friday.”

“What if I'm still sick?”

“I suggest you get well. Livi will be there; she received an invitation too.”

Livi is sort of my rival. We're in competition to be Poppy's new partner. Her old partner retired to take a broadcasting job with one of the big sports networks. Poppy and Becca were partnered in the last Olympics, a legendary paring that took gold in beach volleyball. “You're still not going to tell me what to expect, at least give me a hint of what might happen?”

Pru pushes off the bed to check her image in the mirror.

“Come on,” I say, “throw me a bone here.” I plead with her reflection.

She turns to me, a little irritated at my constant questions about the challenge. “You know I can't talk about it; you need to let this go. All I'll say is that Poppy's creative, so be prepared for anything.”

* * *

“Hear ye,Hear ye. All should be upstanding and pay homage to Poppy, the QC of the Crimson Beaches,” bellows Anabella. She clangs the cowbell once; the sound reverberates through the space. Poppy appears in a floor-length robe, high collar, long sleeves, blood-red poppies on a field of white. She glides down the center aisle, passing rows of women at tables elaborately set for a formal dinner. She's heading toward the front of the room, where there is an equally ornate table set.

Pru and I are loitering in the back row watching this crazy spectacle unfold. QC seats herself with a flourish at the head of a long white linen table, two empty seats on either side of her. She appears regal with her haughty demeanor and red lips matching her gown, but remarkably, there's no crown on her head to complete the scene.

“Welcome sisters. I'm so happy to see the Crimson Beaches attend me at Novik Mansion,” she says, extending a hand to the group. It's our cue to be seated. Chairs scrape like a thunderous herd as we take our places and wait for the next act in this drama.

“What she meant to say is welcome, Red Bitches,” Pru mutters under her breath loud enough for me to hear.

I lean into Pru and whisper, “You know Poppy doesn't like us to be called that.”

She shrugs. “What can I say? It's what they call us out there. We are the Red Bitches and Poppy is our queen.”

I turn my attention back to the spectacle in front of the room. “Pru, this is cray-cray, remind me why we're here again?”

“Because Poppy Novik is one of the highest ranked beach volleyball players in the known universe, with a slew of medals to prove it.” She cups her hand, hissing back. “Poppy mentoring you would be like a blessing from on high. If she wants to be batshit crazy, who's going to say anything?”

This is the first time I've attended court and the first time I've been in this painfully ornate European-style mansion of polished wood floors and tall, arched windows. Everywhere you look there are paintings and statues on pedestals. Pru mentioned they built it in the style of a manor house. The place is enormous, enough to house several families, including servants. I've never seen a relative with Poppy, and I don't recall her talking about family.

There are nervous conversations all around me about what's in store for us tonight. Poppy has a reputation for treats and surprises for the club, and anticipation appears to be growing. My teammates are in shiny dresses and heels, ready for a cocktail party instead of a regular club meeting. Admittedly, some of these women can pull off a party look better than others. It's clear we're all looking our best, ready to have some fun.

I slump back in my chair, fighting the familiar jumping beans in my stomach. Despite my unease, I'm determined to do whatever is necessary to get what I want. I say a silent prayer that it will be alright.

“Anabella.” Poppy gives a bored wave to the keeper of the bell. “I think it's time for refreshments. Ask them to come in.” Anabella nods and opens a door I hadn't noticed. A few seconds later, several ripped men in red bow ties and black briefs circulate among the women, offering trays of something fizzy. I try not to gape at the gorgeous, expressionless, robot-like creatures invading our sanctuary; no wonder Pru likes to hang out at court. A big Viking offers me a tray of crystal goblets filled with a sparkling liquid. I take the offered glass and glance up at him as a faint smile touches his lips and I'm treated to a reckless wink, then his face returns to an unseeing mask. I turn to see if Pru saw it, but she's taking a glass from a gorgeous bronzed male, who doesn't break character. Sipping sparkling apple cider, ogling the eye candy, and keeping taps on the Viking prince is all I can manage. I pull on Pru's sleeve. “How is she able to afford wine tastings and male strippers?”

Pru frowns at me like I'm a bothersome child. “For someone who's desperate to be her partner, you know nothing about her?”

That's fair. I could recite Poppy's stats in every game where she medaled, but I didn't bother to go much further. She's the best, and that was all I needed to know. Poor Pru, I think it's her karma in life to make me less naïve. We've been roommates for a few months. I'm lucky she's easy going. “You're right. That's why I'm asking you.”

“No alcohol today, ladies,” Poppy announces. “We have serious business to discuss in this session, and I want everyone present and alert.”

Pru glances around to see who's near us and drops her voice. “Poppy was born here, but her uncle, who raised her, is some kind of international businessman. An Eastern European oligarch, is the rumor. Apparently, they could burn through their money today and never get to the end of it. Maybe having all that freedom makes you a little batshit.”

I've trained with Poppy enough to know that she's all focused energy and talent. On the sand, there's no hint of QC when she's in the zone. No problem. Quirky I can handle as long as we're winning. I take a sip and notice QC is looking dead at me. She nods and I nod back. She turns her attention to Livi and gives her the same attention. Poppy extents two robed arms. “Come, Kenzie, Livi. I reserved these seats for you. She gestures to the empty seats on either side of her at the front. “I want the two of you close to me.” I stand and glance at Livi on the other side of the room. She gives a half shrug, like it's no big deal. Pru pushes me. “Go on,” she hisses, “you don't want her to think you're antisocial.”

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