Ready to Score by Jodie Slaughter (Excerpt)

1

A year ago, Jade’s best friend, Miriam, had won the lottery. Miri had a heart on her the size of an old magnolia tree, and she’d been incredibly generous with her closest friends, gifting them lifesaving amounts of money. Jade spent months trying to kiss Miri’s feet after, with every red cent sitting in her bank account untouched. Her best friend damn near had to kick her in the face to get her back right. But once she did, it was game time. Jade broke some off for her folks and made sure that Social Security and her teacher’s pension weren’t the only things she had to live on in retirement. The rest had been put into the school. Anonymous donations that helped buy new desks and repair two of the broken ovens in the cafeteria. They’d even finally managed to get a laptop for every enrolled student and then some. Somehow, even when she was the one providing the healthy funding, she still couldn’t manage to find the funds for her own SMART board. Go figure.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t even made sure most of the donated money went to the football team either. She was of the mind that the kids worked better when they were a little scrappy. Besides, from an economics standpoint, most of the teams they played weren’t much better off than her kids. She wanted Greenbelt to win—always—but it didn’t seem right to try to make that happen by throwing money their competitors didn’t have on the field. So her kids got refreshed uniforms, new cleats and pads and helmets, better snacks for during practice than they’d ever had, and fresh turf on the field. This also meant that team parents wouldn’t have to scrounge and scrimp to make sure their kids were able to make it to away games and tournaments.

Less-stressed parents meant less-stressed kids, which turned into players with more focus.

This was exactly why, on July 6, the first day of summer training camp, Jade stood with the brim of her cap pulled down low and her hands on her hips, looking every bit like her daddy as she surveyed the field.

Junior varsity tryouts for the upcoming school year wouldn’t happen for another month, but the boys would be doing one-a-days until then.

It was hotter than usual for July in South Carolina. The Fourth had brought rain, and while the grass was no longer wet, there was plenty of moisture in the air. The only thing on their side was the overcast sky, taking some of the heat off. This meant that at least not all their time had to be spent in the weight room today.

Duncan Landry, the head coach, was a big, tall white man who’d come up playing ball in Louisiana. He’d spent four years at Louisiana State as a defensive back and somehow wound up coaching football in some nothing town in the Carolinas. In the fifteen years he’d been at Greenbelt Senior High, he’d led their team to six state championships. Unfortunately, it had also been six years since their last big win. And no matter how much red the old man still had in his cheeks—or how much fire in his belly—Jade knew he was nearing the end of his tenure.

She could just feel it. The same way she felt like hers was about to begin.

And it didn’t matter that she was basically fifth in the line of succession. She’d been delusional in going after the job she had now, so she might as well let it carry her through to the end.

Landry had the boys running offense-versus-defense flag football drills. No tackles, pads off to try to keep the heat at bay, with water breaks every five minutes. She and Coach Carr, a stout, middle-aged Black man who kept a Bluetooth glued to his right ear at all times, watched their boys with shrewd eyes.

She squinted under her cap, scribbling in her notepad every time she spotted a weakness or an area for improvement. The boys were a bit slow, but that was to be expected during their first day back. And there was spottiness in their movement together, a kind of uncertainty in how they were supposed to work with their teammates.

The drill ended in a stalemate, no scores. But the boys were sweaty and hyped and energized. They could work with that. She could work with that.

After the boys were gone and the coaches were left to straighten out the field, Landry gathered all five coaches in a circle on the forty-yard line.

“We had a good first day.” His Cajun accent was as thick as if he’d never left the Boot. “The boys looked good out there. They hustled hard. We got plenty of work to do, but I think we can get them all the way this year.”

The Greenbelt Gators had braved a rough last few years as a team. First, a revolving assistant coaching lineup, then a string of losses that had seemed to render all their previous title wins obsolete in the eyes of their town. Just the year before, a few of Greenbelt’s richest—and the other sponsors who helped make sure their largely low-income players were outfitted in fresh cleats and jerseys each season—had taken it upon themselves to call for Landry’s removal as head coach. Jade hadn’t been in the meeting that Landry had called to address the matter. But when all was said and done, that talk had been shut down entirely.

Now, though, there were new rumors flying around, ones that made Jade almost ashamed of how much they lit a fire under her ass. If the hushed words around town were to be believed, Landry was thinking about retiring. She could hardly believe it, to be honest. The man had been head coach when she was in high school in 2007. And he was just as spry as ever. The only things she could see that had changed since were the graying hair at his temples and his bad knees, which kept him from squatting when he talked to the players. Maybe he was just tired of all the early mornings and late nights. All the overzealous parents and teenage drama. If retirement were on the horizon for him, that left the door perfectly ajar for her.

She could see it all so clearly. Herself, looking out over the field with her hands on her hips, knowing that this team was hers to lead. Knowing that the championships she would bring them would show everyone that she belonged here.

Landry cleared his throat loudly, shaking Jade from her fantasies. He took his cap off and rubbed his hand over the short, grayed fuzz on top of his head before slipping it back on. “Well, shit … I’m sure y’all have been around here clucking like hens, wondering if I’m really leaving or not, so I’ll just give you an answer … Yes, I am.”

Jade could practically feel the air around them get sucked into the chests of five people all at once, each one of them heaving like they were trying to capture the bulk of it. Her own chest suddenly felt like it was full of fire as her mind raced.

This was it.

This was actually fucking it.

“Nobody knows yet but us, and I’d like to keep it that way for now. You know how the rest of the guys like to meddle,” he said, referring to the other head athletics coaches at Greenbelt Senior High. “Principal Coleman has given me the power to choose who’ll take over for me when I’m gone.” He pointed a shaky finger around the circle. “The regular season’s over in October. That’s when I’m leaving, so that’s when I’ll make the decision.”

Jerry Smith, a defensive coach and tenth-grade chemistry teacher, cleared his throat. “What, uhh … what are the criteria?”

Coach Landry screwed his face up a little bit the way he always did when he was thinking hard. “It ain’t as simple as that,” he answered. “I’ll spend preseason watching y’all, seeing how you coach, how you lead, how you are with the kids. I’m not carrying around a score sheet here, people—no grades, no extra credit. I’ll know when I know. And I should know by the time the regular season starts.”

Jade clenched her jaw, her shoulders rolling like her body was preparing for a fight. All this would almost be easier if there were some kind of grading scale. She was good at tests, always had been, especially when the answers were straightforward. If the criteria were based on which coach won the most scrimmages or even which coach helped send the most kids off to college, she had a clear vision of how to meet both those goals. But when the criteria was just in Landry’s head, all based on feelings and hunches … well, it was the nebulous things that Jade had a harder time with.

For a moment, she floundered. Her mind raced, trying to connect the dots, fighting to create a plan out of next to nothing.

Coach’s next words never settled between her ears, but she dug her toes harder into the turf of the field, chin stubborn even amid all her anxiety. She only noticed that they’d been dismissed when Landry called out for her to stay behind as the other guys walked off.

He waited until they were completely alone to talk. “Dunn … you know you’ve got some stiff competition here.”

Her eyes widened before she could steel her face. “Coach, I have every intention of showing you how right I am for this job. You know me; you know how hard I’m willing to fight for it.”

Landry nodded. Jade maintained eye contact with him, despite how much more excruciating it got as the seconds ticked by.

“Of course I know. You hit that field running and haven’t stopped since, but I’ve got guys out there who have a decade on you in terms of experience, and I can’t lie and say that doesn’t take precedence in times like these.”

Suddenly, her heart was in her stomach. “I get that, I do. But sometimes it’s better to bring something new to the table.”

“This is South Carolina football, Dunn. Trying something new isn’t exactly what we’re known for around these parts.”

“Right.”

The word hung in the air between them for a few long, torturous moments before Landry sighed again.

“You know what we’re up against here,” he said. “I know I have the final decision, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a hard sell. A woman … a Black woman … a gay Black woman…”

“I’m bisexual, sir,” she corrected on instinct.

Landry rolled his eyes. “This is just as much about politics as it is about making the right choice for the team. The new head coach is going to have eyes all over them, all the time. The principal, the parents, hell, the damn mayor is in my office more often than I’d like to admit. I can’t put anybody in this position who can’t handle that.”

Honestly, Jade thought she’d already been handling that. She was always strategic about the way she carried herself in both her jobs for that very reason. Hers was more of a show-no-weakness approach.

“I can handle anything, Coach. I’m not afraid of any of it. All I need is the chance to show you that I’m ready for this. I’ve got no problem showing anybody else who needs to see it too.”

“Aw, hell…” He pinched his nose between two fingers. “You know how to play poker?”

“Um … a bit. Why?”

“You better get a little refresher, then. Thursday night, 8:00 P.M., you come to my house, all right? Bring fifty dollars and get ready to show that you know how to play the game.”

The way he said “play the game” told her everything she needed to know.

“I’ll be there,” she said.

Landry nodded, his arm extended as if he wanted to reach out to her, but instead he tucked them both behind his back.

“This is about more than football, Dunn,” he said. “And it’s about more than poker too.”

He was so serious, it almost sounded like she was about to sell her soul to gain entry to some secret assassins’ guild. To be fair, though, South Carolina high school football might have been the more cutthroat of the two.

Her mind reeled again, thinking about how she was going to brush up on her poker skills. And by brush up, she meant learn completely. The only real experience she had with the game was the months she’d spent watching high-stakes poker games on ESPN after SportsCenter reruns went off during her all-nighters in grad school.

Jade nodded, trying to convey some type of surety. That seemed to be enough for Landry, who turned to make his way off the field.

“Oh, bring some tortilla chips too, would you?” he called out over his shoulder. “I’m making my famous Rotel dip.”

She walked away from the conversation with heavy feet and squared shoulders. Jade had always been very aware of the tenuous position she held. She was a Black woman who had somehow finagled her way into a serious football coaching spot in the South. The first woman in Greenbelt Senior High’s long, storied history to ever do so. Both she and her assistant coaching title were always on display in some way.

Whether it was the stares she received on the sidelines at games or the new players who—every damn year without fail—she had to coach into respecting her knowledge and authority.

She had her dreams. Ones that involved her name next to the “Head Coach” title in the trophy case. Ones that involved respect and reverence. Ones where people didn’t constantly question whether she deserved to be where she was. But she’d be a complete fool if she didn’t acknowledge that what she was fighting against to realize those dreams was much bigger than she was.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to work hard as hell to make them happen. Nor was she going to sit around feeling sorry for herself. Giving up or giving in were not in her nature.

Well, maybe in her logical mind she knew that. She was the youngest coach on the team, the one who’d been in her job the shortest amount of time. Neither her gender nor race were viewed favorably for a position like this. But that just meant she had something to give this team that none of the other guys did. If it took beating their asses at poker to prove it, then she had no qualms about that either.



2

Francesca Lim was good at wiggling her way into things. Remaining somewhat of an unexpected choice, using shy smiles and her quiet nature to remain unassuming until she was able to snap something up. This had been the case her entire life. With romantic relationships, with convincing grumpy ladies at the DMV to bend the rules for her, and with work too.

She hadn’t even known about the weekly poker game at Coach Landry’s house until two days ago. Her only real friend at work—as in someone she willingly hung out with outside the walls of Greenbelt Senior High—was Jeremy Bell. He was a tall, lanky white man who coached soccer—probably the least well-regarded sport in the entire school. As head coach, he apparently had a set place at the table, but he’d kept it a secret from her—that is, until they’d gotten drunk at the bar the other night and he’d started lamenting about how he wasn’t going to attend anymore because he was tired of the other guys making fun of him.

Francesca felt for him—kind of. But he was one of the mayor’s nephews and his wife was sexy as hell, so she felt confident that he’d fare just fine. Much less drunk than he was and sensing an in, she’d managed to worm her way into an invitation on the grounds that she was, one, really fucking great at poker, and two, trying to “make more connections in Greenbelt.”

She’d been teaching art at Greenbelt Senior High for two years, and for roughly twenty-two months of that time, Franny’d had her eye on her own personal pie in the sky. Assistant coach—offensive line first, then head coach second, when the time came. There were only so many positions to fill, and since she’d been there, no one had left.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d been in Minnie’s Diner standing in the line behind the hostess stand, waiting to order a burger and fries to go. In front of her were two assistant football coaches, ones who coached but didn’t work at the school full-time. She didn’t know their names, but there was a bald one and a redheaded one. She was there, minding her business, when she saw Baldy look around conspiratorially, trying to make sure no one was listening. Immediately, she knew whatever he had to say would be juicy. So the second he shot her a look and saw that she had little earbuds in, she tapped them twice to pause her music.

“I think Landry’s got his eye on Dunn for his spot when the season’s over,” Baldy said about the team’s head coach and her favorite math teacher to fluster.

“How do you figure?” Red questioned.

“Just a feeling. Pretty sure he’s been eyeing her for a while, probably since she started.”

“Hmmm.” Red seemed to be the contemplative sort. “I figure she’s the only one worth mentoring. I’m not saying the rest of us aren’t good in our own right, but we’re all too old for that shit.”

“You’re not thinking of throwing your hat in the ring?” Baldy asked.

“And drive my ass into an early grave worrying about Greenbelt’s legacy?” Red shook his head. “I want us to win as much as anybody else on that team, but I’ve got five years until I retire and me and Suzie can roast our pale asses on a beach down in Florida. I love this sport, but being head coach is just asking for a heart attack.”

Whatever response Baldy had was interrupted when the hostess came to take them to a table. Suddenly, Franny found herself out of earshot, still reeling from the information she’d been inadvertently given.

Coach Landry was stepping down as head coach at the end of the season, and Jade Dunn seemed to be his number one replacement prospect. Seemed being the operative word. There was still time for Franny to do what she did best and wiggle her way in there. Into an assistant coaching job if she could get it, but head coach if she somehow found herself overrun with luck. Either way, the door was open, even if it hadn’t been opened for her specifically.

She sure as hell wasn’t about to let it close on her.

So here she was having to scheme. She might have been ashamed if she didn’t believe she had plenty to benefit the team. It wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve the job. To be fair, going about it the old-fashioned way wouldn’t have worked for her anyway. She wasn’t an old-fashioned girl. Not in the way she coached, and not according to who she was.

When she’d found out Jade Dunn was an assistant football coach, Franny had nearly coughed up a lung. She was from Houston, and in Texas, where football was only one step under God—officially—the same misogyny that ran rampant in the church was just as prevalent on the football field. She’d met two other women high school football coaches in the entire state, of which there were still only a handful. And of those, none of them were Asian women. To be fair, though, a few of them were lesbians, so there was that.

Before she’d left home, she’d coached an Amateur Athletic Union football team, and she’d clawed her way into that position too. Aside from her parents, that job had been the hardest thing for her to say goodbye to. But she’d done it willingly because she was nothing if not a fool for love. Even the scant, flighty promise of love apparently. She’d left her dream job and all its promise of advancement behind for a woman and had come up short, with very little to show for it. Now that she knew there was opportunity, Franny wasn’t afraid to sharpen her nails and get those claws back out to make something for herself on this team.

She wasn’t afraid of the guys. That required its own strategy. One that was definitely a delicate balance, but one she knew well enough how to handle. It was Ms. Dunn who had the ability to throw a rusty wrench in her plans.

Franny hoped like hell that there could be room for them both on the team. She wasn’t interested in taking someone else’s job, especially when she knew they’d fought for it. She only wanted a spot of her own. And Dunn already hated her. Every time they passed each other in the hall or so much as caught eyes, Dunn would give Franny a look so withering she felt it zing her nipples.

From what she’d seen, Ms. Dunn wasn’t the warmest in general, but damn did she hate Franny. Which made very little sense, because Franny had never so much as sniffed wrong in her direction.

Whatever.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Dunn could hate her all she wanted, so long as she didn’t try to sabotage her. Anyway, as far as she knew, Dunn didn’t have the same invitation Franny now held. If she played her cards right, she could get her in before Dunn ever even discovered she was looking for one.

Now it was Thursday night, and Franny was standing behind Jeremy on the porch of Coach Landry’s Craftsman-style home.

“What am I even supposed to tell them?” Jeremy whined. He’d been trying to convince her not to come all day. “You’re not supposed to be here, Fran, because my silly ass wasn’t supposed to get drunk and tell you about it.”

“I’ll do the talking.” Franny patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Trust me.”

The surprise on Coach Landry’s face when he came to the door was almost comical.

“Hi there,” Franny greeted him with a grin before he could speak.

His gaze immediately turned to Jeremy, expression accusatory.

“It’s not his fault,” she asserted. “I got him drunk and squeezed it out of him. He’s just a sweet boy. He had no chance of keeping me away.”

Jeremy, to his credit, made himself look significantly more pathetic. “Sorry, Coach, she reminds me of my big sister. I had flashbacks of being hit over the head with a Tonka truck if I disagreed.”

Franny tapped her toe against his heel. She wasn’t that much of a bully. She’d planned to return him safely and unharmed to his wife whether he’d coughed up the info or not.


Copyright © 2025 by Jodie Slaughter