Shondra strode up the deserted sidewalk, the collar of her winter coat pulled up right to her chin and her hands stuffed in her pockets. It seemed impossible that any hint of cold air could brush against her and yet she was cold. It didn't make sense. Almost, she wished for the warmer weather of the south. But when all was said and done, she was glad to be back in the city that was still her home. She liked Knoxville well enough, but she was still a New Yorker at heart. There was always an uneasy element to being a black lesbian when she was at Tennessee, though it was never stated; still, on the streets of New York, no one shot her a strange look, and wouldn't have even if she had been walking with a flaming pink gorilla. In the end, this was where she belonged.

She came to a familiar door. No one else would have found it remarkable, since it was plain wood. The building itself was equally unimpressive; it squatted amidst a line of shuttered storefronts. Small neon lights in the window indicated that it was a sports bar that supported almost every league in the United States, major or minor; the gleaming lights even included a custom-made WUSA logo. What most people would miss amongst the bright lights was the rainbow patch stuck to the window that indicated that this was a gay-friendly establishment. Then again, to call Lefty's Clubhouse a gay-friendly establishment would be the understatement of the century. The Clubhouse was the only sports bar that Shondra knew of that was not only exclusively gay/bi, but also co-ed; she was sure that there were mostly-lesbian sports bars, but she didn't think there were that many that catered to a gay male clientele.

She shook her head to clear it of its unaccustomed pondering and knocked gently. First a slit in the door slid open, then the entire door. Tiana Green, doorkeeper and occasional coat rack, smiled warmly at her, brilliant green eyes twinkling. "Honestly, Temora needs to get over that paranoid kick of hers and let you guys have keys to the place. Or at least issue one key per couple. I get tired of opening the door for you guys, you know?"

"That wouldn't have worked anyway, because Iris was here before I was," Shondra pointed out. "She said she had to work the early shift, but I got stuck with the late shift because of Gar's screwy schedule."

"Well, she's still here, unless she went around the back. She probably wants to make New Year's whoopee with you in the back. You're not legal yet, are you?"

Shondra put her hands up. "Leave that to Temora, wouldja?" She tossed Tiana her coat and entered the main part of the Clubhouse. A few couples were already there, though Sofie looked disgruntled. "What's wrong, Sof'?" Shondra asked her high school teammate.

"Haven't seen Marisol all night. She's been in the back working on the phone link for Penny and Lauren. I hope she finishes up before the ball drops, because otherwise my ass is going to be bored all night." Shondra's look of confusion spoke volumes. "Loz and Penny had been complaining because they couldn't call each other because the rates from Australia to Italy are exorbitant, so 'Sol came up with this plan that they could call each other through her computer so that the Aussie phone company would think the call was Australian local and the Italian phone company would think it was Italian local so they wouldn't hav to pay through the nose to make lovey-dovey."

"So..."

"So Marisol's been in there for hours and I need girl-touchie!"

"So go after her!"

"I can't!" Sofie threw her hands in the air, despairing of making Shondra understand.

Meanwhile, in Temora's back room, Marisol put one more wire into the contraption sitting on the cot and tentatively pressed a button, backing away as if it would burn her to a crisp. It stuttered to life. Lauren's voice came on the line. "Dinkum?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Americans... just get me Penny." Lauren sounded frustrated.

Marisol pressed another button and spoke into the second receiver. "Penny, you're good to go. I repeat, you're good to go. Remember, whenever one of you gets around to hanging up, do it twice. Otherwise you'll still be on the line with me, and that would just be weird, and possibly expensive."

"Get lost already!" Lauren and Penny yelled together. Marisol grinned before unplugging the receivers so the two lovers could talk privately.

Once she was sure they were alone, Penny burst into tears. Lauren, back in Canberra, reached out a hand before sheepishly remembering that Penny was on another continent. "It's going to be all right, love, don't fret, you'll be welcomed somewhere with open arms. You won't be out of a job, you'll find your way home, you could even find your way to me. Wouldn't that be absolutely brill? We could field an all-Opal starting five, there wouldn't be a side that could stand against us."

"But it's not fair! We fought so hard! We made the flipping postseason last year, Loz! What else does a club have to do to survive in that stupid country? That was a good team, not just a batch of good players thrown together. We all knew what to do when whoever was on the floor, it wasn't like some I could think of who are built around just one ego." Penny's voice was unusually venomous, and it really was a shame that someone so young sounded so bitter already.

"I know it's not fair. Life isn't fair, shouldn't you know that by now? We've seen too many examples of how it all goes wrong. It's not your fault that they took your team away from you. But you'll fit in somewhere else, because you're that kind of girl. You're likeable and lovable-"

A loud sniffle interrupted Lauren's reassurances. "That's exactly the problem!" Penny protested, her voice crackling over the line. "What if I'm too lovable? What if someone tries to-"

"And then you kick them where it hurts and you tell them your girlfriend will do worse to them if they ever try it again. While I can think of plenty of folk who might like you, I can't think of that many that would be stupid enough to go after you after you tell them you're already taken. And none of them are in Washington, San Antonio, or Indiana, and I can't think of you going anywhere else. You'll be fine, love. Maybe you'll even come west so we can see each other more often. That would be nice, I hardly see you anymore..."

"You should have gone Euroleague, told the WNBL to stuff it," Penny said. "The money's better, so's the company. Even the basketball's better out here. Italy's beautiful, but every time I look at something I want to share it with you, but you're down there! We could have spent the whole winter together."

"I'd rather have eternal summer with you, love. I can't take any of those offers, much as I'd like to. I can't afford to leave. They can't spare me. What would it say about Aussie basketball if their best player decided not to play in the major league? There's already talk about the decline with you and Bronds in Europe. I have to do something to make up for promising the Storm I'd be back in 2004. Some of the folks home are saying that I shouldn't have done that. One of them walked up to me, and bold as brass she said that I should take a month of the WNBA season off because Australia was more important than the US. So I should take my time off from that. But I can't because that's the only way I can get us pub in the States. But I can't very well take off too much time with the Opals, and I can't take too much time from the Caps because they're lost without me."

Somewhere in the middle of her train of thought, Lauren realized that she'd gone from reassuring Penny to venting her own frustrations. "I'm sorry, love, I just-"

"It's all right, Loz. I forget sometimes just how much they put on your shoulders. I shouldn't have-"

"But you should, you're in a mess and I shouldn't have-"

"It'll be all right," Penny sighed. "Some day, somehow, it'll all be all right. I miss you so much, I wish you were here..."

"I miss you too, love. I can't wait to see you again."

"Later this year, of course." Penny smiled; though their conversation was being routed through a time zone that was still in December 31st of 2003, Lauren was on the other side of the International Date Line and it had already passed midnight in Italy, so it was already 2004 for both of them. "What's your New Year's resolution?"

"Oh, are we doing that? And you worry about me spending too much time in America. It's easy, love. Gold in Athens, a WNBA championship, and as much time as is humanly possible with you. And I might go back to the dark hair. Blondes may have more fun, but I think there's only room for one blonde in this relationship."

"We'd better end up on the same side, then, because I want a WNBA championship too."

"We'll have to see about that next week." Lauren grinned, and the conversation soon shifted into more intimate, personal things that made Marisol get up and leave the room after accidentally hearing a snippet of the conversation.

Sofie looked up from her tray of drinks as Marisol entered the main room. She quickly deposited the last two drinks in front of Roger and Andy and dumped the tray on an empty table just in time for Marisol to fall into her arms. Marisol pulled her gradually into a deserted corner, where they kissed without much regard for who might be watching. The two ex-Yankees watched the scene with some amusement, both grateful that they had given up pretending interest in the female sex. "Love is one of those good things," Roger observed. "And I'm glad you're around."

Andy managed an embarrassed smile; usually his lover didn't express such emotional thoughts aloud, and certainly not in public, even the limited public that was the Clubhouse. "So what's bringin' on this sudden love thing?" he asked.

"I've been thinking, and-"

Andy already knew what was coming next. "No. Don't do it."

"What, think?"

"You know damn well what I mean."

"I thought you'd've been the first to tell me to do it."

"But why should you? You've proven everythin' you needed to prove. They're goin' to remember you as one of the greats, Rog. You proved you weren't in your twilight, no matter what some nitwit said. You're a Hall of Famer, one of the top strikeout guys ever, one of how few 300-game winners? You've got more World Series rings than most kids even start out dreamin' of. So why do you want to tack somethin' on the end? The way you left was perfect, Rog, let it stand, would you? Sometimes you mess things up when you meddle with them."

"I want to stay with you, Andy, that's all."

"So move however-many miles to Houston and get an apartment. You can find some good excuse, right? You're smart enough to find some reason to have a place in Houston."

"That's not the same as what we did in New York. I can't travel with you if I'm not on the team, can I?"

Andy shook his head, not wanting to get into his main emotional objection to the idea of being Roger's teammate once more. "Still, you shouldn't try it again. You picked your spot and it was a good one. Let it go."

"Andy, what the hell is your real problem?"

That closed off his options with brutal efficiency. "I can't do this again, Rog. I can't go to a new bunch of teammates and get acquainted and have what we have hoverin' in the background. We had how long in New York and we told how many guys and how often did it go wrong? I don't want to be with you and hidin' it whenever we're around the team. I want you, I want you bad, but I don't want to have to hide it, and that's what we'd have to do in another clubhouse."

"So it's not that you're ashamed of me or somethin' like that?"

"I could never be ashamed of you. But I know some of the guys would think that we shouldn't be together. It's easier for both of us if you're just in the city and I can visit you when I'm home."

Roger coughed, a sure sign that some other penetrating truth or question was about to come into the conversation. "Are you scared?"

"Yeah, I am. Scared that someone might think it's open season on you because you're right there, an easy target. I'm not afraid for myself, couldn't ever be, but thinkin' of someone goin' after you makes me shiver all over. I don't want to put you in that kind of situation, not if I can help it."

Deep green eyes fixed Andy with the kind of stare/glare that he was used to giving instead of receiving. "I can take care of myself, Andy. I'm a big boy. But if it makes you this freaked out, then maybe I should consider stayin' with the retired thing. It's not so bad, playin' with the boys, even if I'd rather spend time with you. But I don't want to cause you any trouble. I want you to be happy."

"And I-" Andy stopped. To repeat the same sentiment would be trite. Besides, he suspected that the only way for Roger to be happy would be for Andy to give him an unconditional personal permission to make his comback with the Astros if he so desired, and Andy didn't think he was ready to say that. He wanted their relationship to be harmonious, especially considering the events of the last few months. He wanted to keep the trouble to a minimum, but his intuition told him that until Roger made his decision they would be arguing over this. "I want whatever's best for you." There. Innocuous enough that both of them could read into it whatever they wanted to.

If Roger saw the equivocation there, he said nothing, merely saluted Andy with his glass and turned his eyes to the New Year's Eve celebration that was running on that particular station.

Elsewhere, another couple was in no mood for celebration. Brandi and Mia had progressed from glaring at each other to glaring into their glasses. When Topaz, one of the newest waitresses, tried to bring over refills, they both gestured her away; it was clear that they wanted to be left alone. Topaz, having remembered the First Rule of the staff- "Thou shalt not pry"- skittered away towards one of the basketball televisions until someone else got her attention.

Brandi broke the silence. "You shouldn't have bothered buying the house, should you?" she asked bitterly.

"They couldn't trade him. Hard as they tried. I'm sort of relieved, except not, because then they can still work out the California deal; the thing with the Rangers would have gotten him to Chicago and out of all our hair." Mia seemed grateful that Brandi was talking to her at all.

"I really don't care what happens to him. I hope you're happy as hell."

"Brand, what's the matter?"

"Some year this has been, huh? We lose the Cup, we lose the league, and I lose a girlfriend. I'm surprised I got here with my clothes still on."

"You haven't lost me, how else would we be here?" Mia asked, putting her hand gently on Brandi's. "And we're going to bring the WUSA back. I don't care if we have to do exhibitions in every city that has a stadium big enough for a soccer game, we're going to bring it back and we're going to make it work. And I want to make this us thing work even more than I want to make the league work. I wish you would believe me when I say that..."

"Why? You already went and married Nosemar. Why should I think that you want to stay with me? I'm only-"

"Only the one I love. Nomar, he's... he's convenient. He's nice. He's solid. He's someone people could believe that I want to be with. He's someone I can talk to or work out with when you're not around. And, though he hasn't told me, he's got someone who's to him what you are to me. I just don't know if it's Martinez or Jeter. The rumors vary, you know." A note of sarcasm tinted Mia's voice; she knew that Brandi knew her teammates gossiped about who was sleeping with whom, and Mia's name had come up in many combinations.

"I was scared," Brandi admitted. "I thought you liked him better than you liked me and this was your way of saying goodbye or something like that."

"Not at all. I could never. I don't want to. You're the last solid thing left in my life, and I don't want to let go. After Athens, you'll be the top of my list. Nomar's going to have to deal with being second."

Brandi grinned. "Don't worry. He's used to second place. He's with the Red Sox, remember? Even West Coast girls know that Boston equals second place. Or, if you want, I could talk to him and make him reasonable."

"Uh, you don't have to go that far. I think I can explain it to him without you... uh, doing whatever it is jealous girlfriends do to husbands."

"Hmm. I don't know what jealous girlfriends do to husbands, but it must be pretty bad." Brandi got up, looked around for a moment, and yelled, "SUE! What do jealous girlfriends do to the husbands of their lovers?"

"I usually buy him a couple of drinks," the tall blonde yelled back. Brandi wasn't satisfied with that answer, though Mia seemed somewhat relieved. She was fairly certain that 'soccer star kills baseball superstar in a fit of jealous rage' would garner publicity-laden headlines, but those would bring with them all sorts of bad publicity. Women's sports was one of the few places where there was such a thing.

Sue, having delivered her answer, finished off her glass and said, "Temora, if you could refill this, you would have my eternal gratitude. At least for the next week or so." She put the glass down on the counter with a resounding thunk and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, after several minutes of waiting, she asked Temora flat out, "What's the matter with you?"

"I been tinkin'," Temora said, her heavy Brooklyn accent, as always, making her words hard to understand. "Two years I ran dis joint widdout havin' ta toss anyone. Dis year, I gotta do it twice. Dis woild's gettin' crazed, Sue. We got people killin' fer no reason, people goin' apeshit ev'ry chance dey get." She shook her head and wiped down the counter, desperate for something to do that would get her to stop thinking.

"You were hard on Dany," Sue said. "He was an idiot, but if we were all punished for being idiots, we'd all be punished. I'm pretty sure every one of us has been in a car accident- his was just worse than most, that's all. Come on, even the kid's parents forgave Dany for what happened."

"I don' take 'scuses, Sue, an' I ain't no Christian dat hasta fergive. He got his teammate killed. Dat's enough fer me ta toss him fer good. I don' hold wit' killin'. 'Specially if it's dumb. I'm sorry fer Ilya, he don' come 'round no more, but I ain't lettin' Dany in fer him."

"Even in accidents?"

"Even den." Lines seemed to come from nowhere on Temora's face, cross-hatching the ingrained anger with regret. "I knew a goil, back when I was foist datin'. Total sweethaht, ya know da type. Friend picked her up fer a ride ta my house. Da car got totaled. Some dumbass ran da light. Swore he t'ought da light was yella. Jus' an accident. Cost me my foist goilfriend. I didn't date fer two years afta dat. Don't tell me 'bout 'not his fault'. Ya kill someone, ya kill someone, an' dat's dat fer me."

Sue sat quietly. "I'm sorry, 'Mora, I didn't-"

"Ya didn't hafta 'fore, an' ya don' hafta go inta it. Just leggo."

The anger burning in Temora's eyes was enough for Sue to hastily change the subject. "Now, on the matter of... Byears-" the name came out with an air of disgust- "you were right on target. I personally would have killed her right on the spot, but I recognize that the legal system should get first crack at her. They let her go, then I get to pull a Jack Ruby. You don't do that to a teammate, not even someone you're not working with anymore. That's someone who's learned to trust you, believe you- you don't turn around and bust that up. And the way she did it- I hope to God the thing about the cameraphone was false, because otherwise..." She trailed off, unable to even think about the depths her former colleague had fallen to.

"Any word on who it was?"

"Rumors, always rumors. Some said Sophia, and her spot on the roster after they cut the beast loose was her reward for not talking to the press. Some said it might have been Dixon, and that might explain the way she played after the reported date. Someone said it was Mapp and that was why she was going for the drugs. But if anyone knows the truth, they're showing the decency not to tell. It really isn't our business. Of course, if it was someone I actually had any fondness for-" Sue broke off, because her fingernails were starting to dig perilously deep grooves in her palms. The Byears story, such as it was, had been enough to send shock waves through the basketball community; most players were only six degreees of separation from any other player, so it was certain that she knew someone who knew someone. Add that to the always simmering stories about the 'dangers' of the lesbian percentage of the WNBA, and the additional story about the former Tennessee player who had been charged with similar behavior towards a high school student, and suddenly there was a crisis. She was terribly, horribly afraid for what might come next.

There was a brooding silence hovering over the bar. Sue filled it as best as she could, but she could tell that there was a touch of high-strung nervousness in her voice. "There hasn't been any word for months. I don't know if they're still trying to find her, or if they've got her and she's not talking, or if they just don't care enough to tell us everything. I just- seriously, though, there's been talk of starting a vigilante group to deal with her instead of leaving it up to the authorities, because it's been demonstrated they don't know what the fuck to do with her. maybe they should have called Animal Control. Or locked her in a room with Kobe."

"Aw, no, we are not tawkin' 'bout da fuckin' Kobe trial at my bar!" Temora's voice carried so that about half the people in the room turned to stare at her. She tossed her hair, what little of it there was to toss, and rolled her dark eyes to the ceiling. "Youse all hoid, t'ough? Ya want yer Kobe fix, ya go find it some'ere else. Court TV ain't gonna be here."

Sue sighed and looked in her now-full glass as if it contained answers. "Why does it seem like every time we do a New Year's Eve, it's always so fucking depressing?" she asked. "I mean, there's got to be something good to look back on."

"It's all yer point'a view. Sparks might say dis year sucked 'cause dey got no title an' da Byears t'ing. But da Shock might say dis year was awesome- dey got da title, dey got da love, ya know? Mia an' Brandi are cryin' dere, but I bet da Germans are real happy, an' so's Nomar, 'least till he tries ta get her inta bed wit' him." Temora shrugged. "'S all dat perspective t'ing, ya know."

Sue shook her head. "Jeez, Louise, what kind of world is this where I have to get good advice from a pessimist?"

"Toldja 'fore, Sue, it's a fucked up woild. Now shaddap an' watch da TV, Dick Clark's ball's 'bout ta drop."

Around the Clubhouse, conversations fell silent, replaced by the countdown as the glittering ball slid slowly down its special pole. At the precise moment that it struck bottom, the various employees and customers of the Clubhouse shouted "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Temora broke out the champagne; it had been smuggled out of the Yankee locker room after their last World Series win, and she hoped that it hadn't gone flat since then. But it seemed bubbly enough as she passed out glasses.

The gathered athletes raised their glasses in a silent toast; each had something different on his or her mind for the forthcoming year, but it all centered around the theme of getting things right. Some simply wanted stability. Others wanted success. Still others wanted true love, or a solution to whatever problems they faced. Whatever it was, each was sure he or she would be able to find it with the dawning of the New Year and a true love by their side.