Hard & Deep: A Football Romance

The dream changed tones. The lights shifted to something darker and dangerous and the shiny windows gleamed blood red.

As she spiked the wine, it turned purple and poured out ominous smoke. She handed the glass to Mr. Hayes, and the two clinked glasses. She giggled with delight. As soon as he took a sip of the drink, he gasped. He began to shrink immediately. Soon he was shorter than Jenna, and kept shrinking. She began to laugh, and he kept getting smaller.

“Now who's sorry?” Jenna laughed, her eyes gleaming. “You should have given me everything. If I can't have you, then no one will.”

When he was about six inches tall, she lifted up her heel and brought it down on him, and he immediately melted into a red puddle.

Tracy woke with a start. What a violent dream to have, Tracy thought. She looked over at Jenna, peacefully sleeping in Mr. Hayes' nook, a smile on her face as if she were enjoying herself and the thought of squishing Mr. Hayes. It made Tracy's stomach twist. And she seemed like such a nice girl, Tracy said silently to herself.

She got up, shaking and feeling sick to her stomach. The queasiness had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the death she'd just witnessed in her dream. It was the most disturbing thing she'd ever seen, and she had been in a lot of people's messed up dreams.

She needed a glass of water to go back to sleep. Or a shot of whiskey and prescription pill, if she were honest. The dream had been so violent and hate-filled she wasn't sure she'

d ever sleep again. A glass of water would at least get her out of bed and hopefully clear her head. She went all the way back to the kitchen, in the front of the apartment, before turning on a light. She felt silly standing in another woman's kitchen completely naked, but the water helped steady her nerves.

She looked around. There, by the door, she could see the pair of heels that Jenna had carelessly tossed in the closet when they had arrived. The closet door was still open, and she could see several rows of shoes. Typical of a girl this rich, Tracy thought.

Still, the dream troubled her. She walked over to the closet and opened it all the way. There were shoes of every color and type, sandals, sneakers...

And there, at the back of the closer, was the pair of shoes she had been wearing in the dream. Not a similar pair of shoes, these heels had the same straps, the same coloring, the same everything. Tracy knew that this was the exact pair. They were gorgeous, and they’d been the only part of Jenna's dream in complete focus.

Tracy went to her knees, and grabbed the two shoes. Her hands were strangely steady as she inspected the beautiful heels. They felt normal enough for shoes that cost more than she used to make as a waitress in a week. Tracy examined the heel of one shoe. She knocked her fingers against it, tried to lift off the bottom. Nothing. She grabbed the other shoe, and as soon as she pressed the front of the heel, a spring loaded compartment popped out. Nowhere near big enough to hold the vial from her dreams, but definitely big enough to hold a small vial.

The shoes hung limply in her hands as she considered the ramifications. Yet more proof that what happened in the dreams was a real connection. If what had happened with Mr. Hayes wasn't enough proof, this certainly vanquished any doubts Tracy had about her power.

She slowly put the heel back in place. Did Jenna mean to poison Mr. Hayes in front of everyone? It could be something like a laxative or a chemical designed to make him throw up, something just to embarrass him. Tracy hoped it was as benign as that, but something about the dream made her think it was much worse. She wanted him dead.

Tracy had no idea what Jenna could have against Mr. Hayes, but she knew she wasn't going to find out by just sitting here looking at the shoes. She carefully replaced the shoes, drank the rest of her water, and went back to bed. She wasn't sure she'd be able to go back to sleep. She'd have to let Mr. Hayes know in the morning. She looked over at Jenna, the angelic smile on her face telling the opposite story from what her dreams told.

"Yes James, I understand... yes, of course... yes... Very good." Mr. Hayes spoke smartly into his phone as he and Tracy rode down in the elevator. Tracy had got used to the morning calls from James and had stopped paying attention whenever Mr. Hayes's phone rang. He hung up the phone as they exited the elevator.

The doorman met them with a set of keys. Tracy smiled, knowing that Mr. Hayes probably had the car arranged the moment he’d stepped out of the chauffeured car the night before. His shoulders relaxed as the keys slid into his hand, and he knew he was in control yet again.

Tracy was quiet as Mr. Hayes started the car. She was still reeling from her premonition and her discovery of the spring-loaded shoe-heel. The implications were staggering. Tracy tried to figure out what Jenna would gain from killing Mr. Hayes.

Was it a financial motivation? Jenna's father was simply an investor and would actually lose money if Mr. Hayes died. Jenna was not in Mr. Hayes' will. Emotional reasons, perhaps? No, Tracy sighed as she shook her head. Jenna obviously had enjoyed his company, both at the salsa club and in the bedroom. She didn't have an emotional reason to kill him. Yet, the hate of the dream stuck with her. It just didn't make sense, but the dreams had never been wrong.

She'd tried to get more answers this morning, but Jenna was hungover and didn't want to talk. The younger woman wasn't as accustomed to alcohol as she had let on the night before, though she insisted she'd had a wonderful time. She'd even kissed them both when they left.

"You’re awfully quiet, Tracy. Are you alright?" Mr. Hayes asked, glancing over at her. He looked so comfortable in the driver's seat, carefully guiding the car back to his mansion. She shifted on the leather seat, her dress fitting uncomfortably the morning after.

"Bad dreams," Tracy said carefully. She wasn't sure if she should tell him what she had seen. There was a very real possibility that he was just going to dismiss her concerns as nothing but nightmares.

"I had great dreams last night," he said with a smile. He turned and caught her eye. "Thank you for that."

Tracy smiled, but it was half-hearted at best.

“What's wrong, Tracy?” Mr. Hayes asked. His voice held real concern and it sounded nice after the nastiness of the dream.

Tracy bit her lip before speaking. "I don't think Jenna is quite what she appears to be."

"What do you mean?" Mr. Hayes asked, his eyebrows coming together.

Tracy sighed. "I'm actually kind of suspicious about what Jenna has planned for you. I think she might try to hurt you."

“What?” Mr. Hayes frowned. “Why? And when? That makes no sense, Tracy.”

“I don't know why. But, if I had to guess, it would be at the charity ball.” Tracy looked at him, hoping he would take her seriously. “I don't think she's what she seems.”