Did You Check the Children?

CHAPTER 1: Score one for the Swift

Friday is the best day of the week, no contest. It is the end of the school week and the beginning of the weekend. A twenty-year-old University student is running back and forth on the tennis court in an attempt to win her match. Bree Swift always tied her waist-length blonde hair into a ponytail to prevent it from interfering in her match. She swings her racket up, smacking the tennis ball back towards her opponent.

Her opponent dives. The ball bounces off his racket. The girl in a white tank top, white visor cap, tennis shoes, and blue skirt is swift on her feet. She was born to play tennis.

Before her opponent can get to his feet, she smacks it with full force. It lands in the corner, scoring the game winning point. Bree pumps her fist into the air. "Score one for the Swift." She shouts, like she does every time she scores a point. She is attempting to start a thing. Every great athlete has a signature.

"Lucky shot." Ted Morningstar replies, dusting himself off.

The thirty-year-old is ranked thirtieth in America. Of course he would be jealous. He got his ass kicked by the two-hundred-twentieth ranked player. It is an official game as well. The local tournament is a surefire victory for her. Two games down, she just needs to win six more and the trophy will be on her desk in her dorm room. The twenty-thousand dollars will go into her bank account.

She trots over to the bench where her tennis bag and purse are. She wipes her sweat off her face. The Caucasian woman drops her white towel back into her bag.

Ted Morningstar meets her at the bench. He grits his teeth, "Good game."

"You too." Bree Swift smiles.

He grunts, picking up his tennis bag. He does not even bother putting his racket away in his ten-thousand dollar bag. His bulging muscles nearly rip his black shirt. Bree licks her chops. She wants to tear that shirt off him and lick his abs.

Jerusha Abbott swings her arm around Bree Swift's shoulders. "Come on bestie, let's hit the showers. It's hot as fuck out her."

Bree looks at her sideways. "You are a guest at the country club, you cannot use the showers. Only members and tennis players competing in the tournament can."

Jerusha's jaw drops. "What? Why did I come here then?"

"You were bored and wanted to procrastinate on studying for our finals."

Jerusha looks at the gathered crowd on the bleachers. She leans in. "No one shall know."

Bree whispers back, "I shall know." She winks to her best friend since freshman year.

Bree trots off, still high off her win. She is done for the day, but she cannot leave yet. She is too broke to belong to a country club, but as long as she does not leave the property, she can stay. That is, until the games are over for the day, but there are still about six hours left.

Jerusha follows exactly one car length behind. She is adamant about using the showers. They are pretty nice. Bree spent an hour yesterday using them. Her usual shower time is fifteen minutes.

The shower room is empty. Everyone is outside getting ready to watch the next four games. There are four tennis courts at the country club, thus, to make everything go quicker, they have four games running simultaneously.

Jerusha nods to the employees in the building to not rouse suspicion. The country club takes their rules very seriously. Jerusha can get her disqualified from the tournament. Not that Jerusha Abbott cares.

This will mark the eighth place Jerusha had gotten both girls kicked out of. Just last year, Jerusha tried to ride a reindeer in Santa's Village and resulted in both of them being banned for life. The tickets were under Bree Swift's name like always.