After Hours. Karen Kendall

After Hours - Karen Kendall


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does speaking the truth make me primitive? Why?”

      “Because your truth is slanted and ridiculous and shortsighted! First of all, a quarterback or a kicker or a cornerback doesn’t have to have the same body weight as an offensive lineman, and you know it.”

      Troy snorted. “Kicker is one thing. But the day you have a female quarterback on a mixed team is the day they ice-skate in hell.”

      “Oh, really? Would that be why there are female fighter pilots, female boxers, a female secretary of state?”

      “When was the last time you saw a secretary of state running for her life from someone that outweighs her by 150 pounds, bench-presses three times her weight and runs a 4.7 forty? And now, your pro quarterbacks—and hell, even division one quarterbacks—are at least six-two and weigh minimum 215 pounds. They have to—in order to withstand the beatings they take at the hands of these gigantic linemen and linebackers!

      “For Christ’s sake, Peggy, I’m not arguing that women aren’t competent or lack commitment. I’m arguing that physically most women just don’t have the stature to take the step to the next level. And even if that wasn’t true, the male culture of football, as a sport, would never accept a female quarterback.”

      “And that male culture is exactly what needs to change, damn it!” Peggy whirled and kicked one of his kitchen cabinets.

      “Hey!”

      “Rat-bastard male culture! No, it won’t ever change, will it? I should know.” She kicked the cabinet door again, succeeding in splintering it down the middle panel.

      “Hey!” Troy was up and gripping her arm now. “Get ahold of yourself. I don’t care about the cabinets—I’ll be replacing them, anyway—but you’re out of control.”

      “Let go of me.”

      He took a step back and raised his hands, palm out.

      She dropped her hands to her thighs and leaned on them, trying not to hyperventilate.

      “Where is all this rage coming from, Peg? What did you mean, when you said that you should know?”

      She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to bare her soul to him, and she didn’t want to be physically naked in front of him any longer, either. She stalked to the kitchen door and wrenched it open, emerging into the hot sun to get her clothes.

      “Peggy? Answer me.” He’d followed.

      “I don’t have to answer to you.”

      “No, you don’t. But you’re upset and I’m concerned about you and I wish you would talk to me.”

      She pulled her skirt on, then her panties, bra and top—all with her back to him. She hunted for her shoes.

      “Peggy, why did you leave your college team? It had nothing to do with your official statement, did it?” For some reason, dread grew inside him. This girl wasn’t a quitter. Whatever her reasons had been for leaving the team, they had to have been big.

      13

      SHE SPUN AROUND to face Troy again. “How the hell do you know what my official statement was?”

      “I own a computer. I know how to log on to the Internet. It’s pretty rare for a woman to be a starter on a college football team.”

      “You went snooping.”

      “I was interested in you. If you call pulling up a newspaper article snooping, then so be it. I pulled up your biography and stats on the Bryce University Web site and then clicked on a link to an article. So sue me.”

      She jammed one foot into a shoe, then the other.

      “The article said you left the team to focus on your studies. That’s not true, is it? Peggy…your anger today…” He hesitated. “Were you raped?”

      All her blood seemed to rush to her head and pound at her temples. She wrapped her arms around her body as tightly as she could. She shook her head. Then she said slowly, “They tried.”

      “Jesus,” he said. He took a step forward.

      “Want to know the gory details?” Peg asked, her voice brittle. “Sure, why not? Three of them got me after practice one day, in a special locker room the university had had to construct just for me. You know, just another pain-in-the-ass aspect of having a girl on the team.”

      Troy didn’t say anything, his gaze boring into hers.

      “Anyway, I came out of the shower in a towel just as the door opened and there they were, all three of them. I almost choked on my own spit, I was so scared. I backed into the shower again and grabbed my razor—my Daisy shaver—like I was going to be able to do anything with that.” She laughed humorlessly, and Troy winced.

      “They crowded into the shower with me and one of them pinned my wrist, razor and all, against the wall. The look on his face…I tried to kick another one in the nuts, but he just grabbed my ankle and wrenched it to the side while he tore off my towel.”

      “Look, I don’t know if I want to hear this—”

      “You asked to hear it.” Her voice to her own ears was low and deadly.

      He shut up, his face half anguished and half furious.

      “The one holding my wrist grabbed my breast in his other hand, and the one with my ankle grabbed my crotch. The one in the middle unzipped and pulled out his dick….” Her voice broke.

      When she could speak again she continued. “Lucky for me, Coach banged on the door—there was a request for an interview. The three of them froze, and before they could do or say anything I screamed.” Peggy swallowed before continuing.

      “One of the worst things about it was the delay before Coach opened the door. Like he’d rather have walked away. Didn’t want to see what was behind it….”

      Troy cursed and tried to take her in his arms but she backed away from him.

      “Coach came in and there I was on the shower floor sobbing, and the one guy was stuffing his dick back into his pants. And all he said to them was, ‘Get out.’ He turned his back and told me to get dressed and that he would wait for me outside and then we needed to talk.

      “We walked to his office and he shut the door and asked me if I was okay. I nodded, and he started to explain how a girl on a football team, no matter how good, was like a woman on a ship—just plain bad luck.

      “He said he felt about me like he felt about his own daughters, but he was advising me to leave the team and not to say anything. That I would create a huge scandal, jeopardize not only the team but my own reputation—since they’d say I was a whore who invited them to pull a train on me—and that I’d also endanger his job.

      “And he pointed out that I wouldn’t be doing anything to advance women in athletics, either. He emphasized the fact that I hadn’t actually been raped, no matter what their intent. He patted my knee and told me I was a good kid.” Peggy took a breath.

      “I was so grateful for his kindness to me that I didn’t think about being furious at his selfishness. I didn’t think about the fact that those creeps had probably done this before or might do it again.

      “The only thing in my mind at the time—besides relief and fury—was so dumb. Embarrassment that they had seen me naked. Coach had seen me naked, and how could I ever look him in the face again? There was no way I could play again after that.”

      “Jesus,” Troy said, voice hoarse. He stood there without saying anything for a long time. “So…you never told anyone?”

      She shook her head. “Not even my mother. I just wanted to put it out of my mind, bury it, pretend it didn’t happen. I figured that if I didn’t talk about it, then it would just go away.”

      “You didn’t talk to a counselor


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