"Card, please," Tiana said, as she said every night, time and time again, to the strangers that were coming more and more often now that Righty's was open for more public mingling. The completion of the pro hangout had made her job harder, as she not only had to make sure those who knocked on the door had the right to be there, she had to make sure that they didn't cross paths with those who had something to hide at Lefty's. Tiana was no ordinary woman, or she would have lost her mind long ago, but sometimes the stress started to eat at her steady nerves.

The young woman on the other side of the door slide her union card out and showed it front and back- interesting that she already knew to show the back so that Tiana could look for the sticker that would allow entry into Lefty's, even if it wasn't there. Still, even with that hint, Tiana was more discreet than usual when she opened the door to admit the tall, wild-haired, and barely legal young woman- Jennifer, her ID had said.

Before Tiana could launch into her spiel about the sancity of the Clubhouse and the importance of the rules, Jennifer said, "Diana said I should ask you about a sticker…?"

Of course. If anyone was going to flout tradition, it would be Diana. "Generally, whoever's inviting you in is supposed to come with you and vouch for your story. You understand why we wouldn't want people here who don't belong."

"She said she'd meet me," Jennifer explained. "And she gave me the address and told me it was easy to find."

As Tiana silently swore to cause Diana unspeakable pain, and by what had to be cosmically perfect timing, the door to Lefty's swung out to allow Diana into the vestibule. Diana, who looked like she'd had just a little too much to drink, grinned photogenically, threw an arm over Jennifer's shoulders, and said just a little too loudly, "Jen, what the hell took ya so long? I got so bored waitin' for you to get here I was about ready to leave! Welcome to Lefty's!" She turned to Tiana and added, "Reason I really can't, Birdy went through the bathroom to shoot pool with Derek 'cause Mia caught sight of her in the ladies'. But I gotta get over there. Anyone asks, we got here half an hour ago, capeesh?"

"Understood," Tiana said. Diana tossed a wave back over her shoulder and went through the door on Jennifer's right. She couldn't get a good view of what was going on in there, because Tiana blocked the doorway until the door swung closed. "Typical Diana. Rules do apply to her, and one of these days she's going to discover that the hard way. As for you, let me just… yes, here's your sticker." From the folds of her voluminious green skirt, she removed a roll of white stickers, peeled one off, and carefully stuck it on the back of Jennifer's card. "It's heat-sensitive, so the watermark will only show if you press down on it. Remember to do that next time you come, before you show me the card. Welcome to the madness. House rules are posted just inside the door, but as long as you don't actively try to cause trouble you can take your time learning them."

Jennifer tilted her head, but Tiana had the inner door open, and she was thirsty, so she entered the bar. Immediately, she almost took a step back from the wall of noise that hit her, the sound of a lot of people having a very good time and not caring who knew it. Several screens were showing various sporting events, each of them with their own circle of watchers and wisecracking commentators; the largest, barely visible in the back corner, had the Finals on and a large crowd around it. She thought she recognized a couple of faces, but there was no way she was going to get back there, not through the thick mess of tables and people. Another corner seemed to be a small dance floor, with a pair of dark-haired guys grinding on… each other… And at the edge of the floor, with a serious come-hither look about him, wasn't that Steve? And the blond who was blatantly ignoring him, and making it clear that he was ignoring him, wasn't that…

No wonder the gatekeeper had been so paranoid. Some of those guys- and ladies, she realized- were married.

The house rules were posted right next to the door. She perused them, furrowed her brow, and decided that that drink could no longer wait. She shouldered her way to the bar, where she flashed her license (still California; she hadn't switched to Arizona yet) and got the barkeep's attention. The bartender, a surly black-haired woman, drew a beer and snapped, "Six bucks." Her accent, even in the brief words, was even thicker than Dev's, something Jennifer hadn't even thought possible. A little steep, but Diana had warned her that prices were higher than they were used to at Majerle's, so she anted up and claimed the drink.

The next problem was going to be finding a place to drink it; all the barstools and every chair seemed to be full. One table seemed to have an empty seat, but as she was about to settle into it and ask if the other two women there minded, the pretty blonde on the other side said, "Seat's taken."

The other woman, darker-haired and not as pretty, laughed. "Meg, look out on that dance floor and ignore David and José for a sec. Tell me you'd come back if you were part of that sandwich."

Jennifer followed the woman's pointing finger and saw a familiar face- though as Lauren was wedged tightly between two former teammates, her face was all that was visible. "I can leave if-"

"If Meg's still got the stick wedged up her ass," the dark-haired woman interrupted in a pleasant tone of voice. "If she decides she doesn't have the stick wedged up her ass, you can stay. I'm Kate, she's Meggan with two G's, ask her parents what they were thinking."

"We have standards, Kate!" Meggan protested.

"Oh, I can't wait until you move West like you and her parents have been saying for the last month and a half," Kate said, keeping the same pleasant, yet cuttingly sarcastic tone. "Are you forgetting my relationship with one of the owners of the Hotel California? I'm sure your girl is going to be very pleased with a lifetime supply of apple juice and ginger ale."

"At least this one's more civilized than Elaine," Meggan admitted. "But we don't even know if she belongs here. You got a name?"

Realizing that Meggan was addressing her, Jennifer said, "I'm Jen. Or Jennifer, but usually Jen."

"You got a girl?"

Jennifer grinned. "Do I ever. You wouldn't believe me if I told you who I'm with."

Meggan and Kate exchanged looks. "Oh, I think you'd be surprised how surprised we wouldn't be. Considering the circles we run in, you'd have to name someone pretty interesting for us to be impressed."

Cool as a cucumber, Jennifer dropped the name. Meggan and Kate exchanged another look- not quite as impressed as Jennifer had expected them to be, but not quite as unruffled as Kate's cocky declaration had indicated the two of them would be. "Sheer dumb luck you picked our table," Meggan said. "You do belong here after all."

"What is this, the First Wives Club?"

"Sorta. We're the women behind every great woman. We're the ones they try not to talk about in interviews."

"The ones they try to pass off as their sisters," Meggan said, and she sounded far more bitter than she should be. "The ones who just don't fit the image the league wants."

"The ones who would love them anyway, even if they weren't stars?" Jennifer asked, now genuinely curious. "So, if you don't mind me asking…"

Look number three was exchanged between Meggan and Kate, and then each of them smiled and spoke a name that needed no further explanation. Both would have been instantly recognizable to even the most casual fan of the women's game. Both were superstars with carefully crafted public images. Both had been publicly linked with at least one good-looking guy and had done nothing to dispel those rumors.

Jennifer regarded her tablemates, seeing past the dim light of the bar to recognize that the two of them were both older than she was; no matter how youthful Meggan's face was and no matter how bright Kate's smile might be, both of them had a good ten years on her, and even though she knew just as well as anyone that age really was nothing but a number, she'd already seen how years of hiding, denying, lying, and self-hating had affected her girlfriend. No wonder they were both bitter. No wonder they'd come together to… do what, exactly?

"We could help destroy them if we wanted to," Meggan said, almost as if she had been following Jennifer's train of thought. "She fucks around on me. Don't think I don't know it. I think she's even fucked around with Kate's girl. Between her and Sheri's girl, I think they've gone through half the league."

"And let's not start on her history with Diana," Kate added, and it was clear that she wasn't talking about the same woman that Meggan was. "And that's just what we know about from their experiences. What we've seen here- well. You've seen enough already to imagine, I suppose. That back door doesn't just lead to the bathrooms, either."

Jennifer risked trying to look and, just to continue the trend of theatrically perfect timing that seemed to be following her all through this particularly weird sports bar, she saw a couple she didn't recognize (although one set of elbows looked suspiciously familiar) pulling and tugging each other through the doorway, and she'd have sworn that one of them was giggling, never mind that centers were not supposed to giggle. "Oh," she said, and on days like these she wished that she could actually hide her blush. "No wonder D thought I needed to know about this place. I mean, we don't keep too many secrets at Majerle's, you know? But sometimes when I'm… when I'm with her-" She stopped and looked at the other two, and their steady gazes let her know that they knew who the pronoun referred to, and it wasn't Diana. "When I'm with her, and she's scared to let anyone know anything about her, it eats at me, and I needed somewhere like this where no one really gives a shit- no one does, right?"

"Oh, we do," Meggan said with a disconcerting smile. "But didn't you read the rules? In plain English, what happens at the Clubhouse stays at the Clubhouse, because if anything ever gets out, no one who's ever been here is going to stop until they find who did it, and then that person is dead meat. The way this place works, the only way you can know anything is if you're inside, and the only way you get inside is if you're one of 'them'."

"It's the nuclear option," Kate elaborated. "You'd have to be so desperate you didn't care who knew about you, just as long as they knew about whoever you were ratting out. Or you'd have to be someone that no one cared about, so that it didn't matter that you were outed, just as long as you took aim at a star and knocked them down. The New York Post would kill for the stories any of the three of us could tell. They all have connections here, after all. Imagine the fuss that would cause."

"I'd never do that," Jennifer replied instantly. "I'm not that kind of woman. She's been through too much- too many people have hurt her and I'm not going to be another one." Perhaps she had spoken more vehemently than she meant, made her words sound less than sincere- she did have that tendency. But she was getting sick of the looks that Meggan and Kate shared, as if the secret each of them had told her was such a big deal that it meant the world not just to them but to everyone outside their little circle. Not that there were very many veterans in Phoenix to condescend to her the way the other two were doing, but Jennifer could tell when she was being patronized, and Meggan and Kate were treating her like an idiot.

Meggan suddenly looked past her as the din in the place took on a different note. "Looks like some space has cleared up on the floor. Wanna dance, Kate? Your girl's probably out there somewhere, and I know mine's been lurking by the bar. Jen, save our seats?" Before waiting for Jennifer's answer- which was probably for the best- Meggan scooted out and wove her way through the crowd to join the bleach-blonde who awaited her at the edge of the bar. Kate appeared to be considering Meggan's suggestion for a bit, then deciding to take her up on it, leaving Jennifer the last woman at the table that hadn't even been hers at the outset.

She leaned back, sipping her beer, and took in the view again. The dance floor was even more crowded than it had been before; she could feel the insistent beat through the soles of her sandals, almost enough to make her get out of her chair and start showing off her groove. As the crowd swirled around her, she could see bits and snatches of other circles of activity: a dartboard with what looked like someone's face as the target, a drinking game centered around the baseball game that blared opposite the bar area and next to the Finals party, loud shrieks of "Oh, snap!" coming from the Finals party itself, an intense discussion at the round table that occupied a place of honor near the front door. English wasn't the only language that she could make out: fluid Spanish and staccato Chinese crept through breaks in the noise.

More than anything else, though, was the general sense of complete comfort that lingered in the building. Though she knew few of her fellow patrons personally, the people she did know from parties in Phoenix or LA seemed more at ease than she'd ever seen them before, apparently not as worried about the consequences of casual contact or unguarded remarks, knowing that this was a safe space. She could get used to a place like this very quickly.

And maybe the next time she came through that door, she wouldn't have to come in alone.