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her through each section of the contract, explaining as best he could what was represented in the paragraphs.

When he got to the salary section, Hodge tried her best not to show her surprise. She’d known going in that the base rates—for rookies especially—were

nothing short of pitiful. Though higher than a teacher’s starting salary, it wasn’t by much. The number she saw displayed before her was a good deal more

than she’d been expecting.

She rose her eyes to Mac, who smiled. “You were the first pick in the draft,” he explained. A long finger pointed to the next paragraphs. “I’m authorized

to give you a tenth of your base salary up front as a signing bonus. Then you have the standard incentive bonuses, both individual and team. The better

you do, and the better we do, the more money comes in.”

“That makes sense,” Hodge agreed.

“You’ll also receive a percentage of any team merchandise that features you exclusively, including posters, jerseys, caps, and jackets.” He flipped a page.

“And here are the endorsement clauses. All endorsements need to be cleared through the team first, because your identity will be tied up with the team.”

Another page. “This is your housing allowance. If you don’t have a realtor, I can give you a few names.”

“Dylan gave me the name of hers.”

“Good choice.”

The next half hour was spent discussing the health and life insurance benefits displayed in the contract, and answering any questions Hodge had about

what she read.

After there were no more questions, Hodge stood and thanked Mac for his time. Mac stood as well. “Are you headed for home tonight?”

“No. I’m booked for the week. I figured I’d take that time to contact the realtor, but now it looks like I’m gonna be phoning lawyers.”

“Do you have any in mind?”

“No, but I’ll look for one, that’s for sure. I’d like to get this contract signed.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and get with the realtor. Let me see what I can do from the lawyer end.” He held up a hand. “No, I’m not talking about retaining

one directly for you. Just let me call around and see who’s available, alright?”

Hodge grinned. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“No sweat. Let me make a few phone calls and see what’s up. Do you have the number where you’re staying?”

Hodge handed over a slip of paper with her phone number written on it.

“Good. Ok, you go on, relax, meet up with the realtor, and I’ll see what I can do from this end, ok?”

“Sounds good. Thanks again.”

“No sweat. Now g’wan, get outta here so I can get to work.”

As soon as Hodge left the office, Mac crossed to his desk and picked up the phone.

*******

Groaning, Dylan lowered herself onto the couch and propped her leg on the two pillows situated for that purpose. Covered with three bags of ice and

wrapped in an ace bandage, her knee throbbed like a rotted tooth.

She had no sooner settled into a somewhat bearable position when Brunhilde trotted over, sat, and with a sigh worthy of a martyred mother, put her large

head on Dylan’s bare belly. “I know, I know, I overdid it.”

Baleful eyes blinked up at her.

“Well you try spending more time up in the air than on the ground and see what it does for your conditioning!”

Brunhilde sighed again.

“Thanks for the sympathy, sweetheart. See how many treats you get from now on.”

The Doberman wuffed softly at the sound of one of her favorite words, but when no such treat was immediately forthcoming, she rested her head on her

master’s belly again.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if your fleabitten excuse for a brother hadn’t decided that a fast break drill was the perfect time to suddenly learn how to

play fetch.” She looked around. “Speaking of which, where is the old fleabag anyway.”

Lifting her head, Brunhilde looked over her shoulder. Dylan followed the gaze to see Siegfried sprawled out on his back, legs splayed to the wind, tongue

out, drooling, and dead to the world. Dylan snorted. “Men.”

An annoying chirping sound caused Dylan to dig beneath her back for her cell phone. Checking the caller ID, she flipped the phone open. “Yeah, Mac.

What’s up.”

“Our chick has flown the nest.”

Dylan scowled. “Did I just get dumped into a James Bond film when I wasn’t looking, C-7?”

Mac laughed. “No. Catherine Hodges just left.”

“That was pretty quick.”

“Would probably have taken longer, but her lawyer punked out on her, so I just took her through the contract and held off signing till she can find someone

else.”

“Great. You have anybody in mind?”

“No,” came Mac’s contrite response. “I’m all tapped out. I was hoping you could….”

“Fine,” Dylan sighed. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Thanks, D!”

“You owe me for this one, Mac.”

“Yeah, yeah, put it on my tab.”

“Later.” Dylan closed her phone just as the house phone began ringing. Reaching behind her, she picked up the handset. “Lambert.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lambert.” The heavy southern twang of Horace Johnson’s voice oozed through the phone line and into Dylan’s ear. Her lips curled

up in disgust.

“Afternoon, Horace. What can I do for you?”