Jodie knew some hookers, but none of them were what she’d call classy. Neither were her friends. She ran with a group of hard-drinking, party-loving women, whose single goal in life was to sleep with as many professional athletes as they could.“What do you want from me?”

“We want you to use your connections and find somebody for him,” Junior said. “His birthday’s coming up in ten days, and we got to have a woman for him before then.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Since all three of their jerseys already hung in her closet, they knew they’d have to go out on a limb. Chris spoke cautiously. “You got a particular number you’re interested in adding to your collection?”

“Other than number eighteen,” Willie quickly interjected, eighteen being the Bomber’s number.

Jodie thought about it. She’d rather screw over the Bomber than find him a woman. On the other hand, there was one particular number that she wanted real bad. “As a matter of fact, I do. If I find your birthday present, number twelve’s mine.”

The men groaned. “Shit, Jodie, Kevin Tucker’s got too many women as it is.”

“That’s your problem.”

Tucker was the Stars’ backup quarterback. Young, aggressive, and sublimely talented, he had been handpicked by the Stars to take over the starting position when age or injury prevented Cal from getting the job done. Although the two men were polite in public, both were fierce competitors, and they hated each other’s guts, which made Kevin Tucker all the more desirable to Jodie.

The men grumbled, but eventually agreed that they’d make sure Tucker did his part if she found the right woman for Cal’s birthday present.

Two new customers entered Zebras, and since Jodie was the bar’s hostess, she got up to greet them. As she made her way to the door, she mentally sorted through her female acquaintances, trying to come up with one of them who would qualify, but she drew a blank. She had a lot of female friends, but not a single one of them was classy.