is their business. I donât ask questions. Do you understand where Iâm coming from?â
âJust answer me this. Are they the ones responsible for gettingyou such good seats? I mean, even if youâre making cash on the side, to get such choice seats is very expensive.â
âDonât worry about how I got the tickets, Travis. Letâs just enjoy the game and have fun, agreed?â
Alex stopped walking, then extended his hand so they could agree to just have some fun.
âCool,â Travis conceded and gave him a brotherly handshake and a pat on the back.
âStop being so damn nosey.â Alex got in the last word as they continued on their way.
T HE GAME WAS FAST PACED AND EXCITING. At half time the Bulls were down by twenty points. They fought their way back into the game and with only seconds left on the clock found themselves ahead by two points. The capacity of the crowd had risen to their feet, and roared to an earsplitting level. The Knicks tossed the ball inbound, hustled up the court and at the very last moment put up a three-point shot that sailed through the hoop.
âDamn it! Son of a bitch!â Alex howled. âWhy didnât the damn defender do his fucking job? There is no way the Knicks should have had an unobstructed view of the basket!â
âCalm down, man.â Travis knew that Alex didnât take loss in any form well. His competitive nature, if left unchecked, had gotten him into a few fistfights over the years. Travis immediately saw that this part of his personality hadnât changed with maturity.
Travis watched as Alex curled the knuckles on his right hand, then held up his left palm and punched it a few times. âDamn! I had money on this game.â
âOne day youâll get enough of gambling your paychecks away,â Travis said as he slapped the back of Alexâs right shoulder a few times.
âI donât gamble my paychecks away.â Travis saw a disgusted look formed on Alexâs face as the team headed to the locker room.
âCome on, there is nothing you can do about it now, crybaby,â Travis said, wanting Alex to start moving toward the door.
âThey need to do a better job drafting high-quality players,â Travis listened as Alex continued to gripe. His favorite teams were the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago Bears, and he followed them both religiously.
âKeep it moving, Alex. Youâre in my way and Iâve got to hit the bathroom before I bust open,â Travis said.
âI canât wait to get online and blog about how they gave this game away,â Alex said.
âWill you stop your bitching and move?â Travis snapped at him like a whip cracking against the air.
Alex finally complied and began moving toward the exit.
By the time the two were back on the street, Alex was still raw about the loss. Although Travis tried to change the subject, Alex wanted to relive that lost shot over and over again. Travis hailed a cab and told the driver to take them back to the hotel.
âDid the Knicks win?â asked the driver as the cab bolted out into the flow of traffic.
âYeah,â answered Travis.
âThose are my boys. Theyâre going to win it all this year,â said the driver.
Travis glanced over at Alex and saw that his ears were filled with sore loser steam.
âWeâre Bulls fans,â Travis announced so the driver would shut up before Alex choked him to death.
An hour later, Travis was standing in the lobby of the hotel. Heâd just come back down from his room where heâd changed clothes and freshened up. He had on an all-white linen suit, withan olive-green Bahamas Joe silk shirt and stylish Gucci shoes.
âCan I get you a cab, sir?â asked the doorman as he moved toward the exit.
âNo thanks,â Travis answered as he removed his cell phone and checked to see if he had any messages. Seeing that he had none, he put it away
âJust answer me this. Are they the ones responsible for gettingyou such good seats? I mean, even if youâre making cash on the side, to get such choice seats is very expensive.â
âDonât worry about how I got the tickets, Travis. Letâs just enjoy the game and have fun, agreed?â
Alex stopped walking, then extended his hand so they could agree to just have some fun.
âCool,â Travis conceded and gave him a brotherly handshake and a pat on the back.
âStop being so damn nosey.â Alex got in the last word as they continued on their way.
T HE GAME WAS FAST PACED AND EXCITING. At half time the Bulls were down by twenty points. They fought their way back into the game and with only seconds left on the clock found themselves ahead by two points. The capacity of the crowd had risen to their feet, and roared to an earsplitting level. The Knicks tossed the ball inbound, hustled up the court and at the very last moment put up a three-point shot that sailed through the hoop.
âDamn it! Son of a bitch!â Alex howled. âWhy didnât the damn defender do his fucking job? There is no way the Knicks should have had an unobstructed view of the basket!â
âCalm down, man.â Travis knew that Alex didnât take loss in any form well. His competitive nature, if left unchecked, had gotten him into a few fistfights over the years. Travis immediately saw that this part of his personality hadnât changed with maturity.
Travis watched as Alex curled the knuckles on his right hand, then held up his left palm and punched it a few times. âDamn! I had money on this game.â
âOne day youâll get enough of gambling your paychecks away,â Travis said as he slapped the back of Alexâs right shoulder a few times.
âI donât gamble my paychecks away.â Travis saw a disgusted look formed on Alexâs face as the team headed to the locker room.
âCome on, there is nothing you can do about it now, crybaby,â Travis said, wanting Alex to start moving toward the door.
âThey need to do a better job drafting high-quality players,â Travis listened as Alex continued to gripe. His favorite teams were the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago Bears, and he followed them both religiously.
âKeep it moving, Alex. Youâre in my way and Iâve got to hit the bathroom before I bust open,â Travis said.
âI canât wait to get online and blog about how they gave this game away,â Alex said.
âWill you stop your bitching and move?â Travis snapped at him like a whip cracking against the air.
Alex finally complied and began moving toward the exit.
By the time the two were back on the street, Alex was still raw about the loss. Although Travis tried to change the subject, Alex wanted to relive that lost shot over and over again. Travis hailed a cab and told the driver to take them back to the hotel.
âDid the Knicks win?â asked the driver as the cab bolted out into the flow of traffic.
âYeah,â answered Travis.
âThose are my boys. Theyâre going to win it all this year,â said the driver.
Travis glanced over at Alex and saw that his ears were filled with sore loser steam.
âWeâre Bulls fans,â Travis announced so the driver would shut up before Alex choked him to death.
An hour later, Travis was standing in the lobby of the hotel. Heâd just come back down from his room where heâd changed clothes and freshened up. He had on an all-white linen suit, withan olive-green Bahamas Joe silk shirt and stylish Gucci shoes.
âCan I get you a cab, sir?â asked the doorman as he moved toward the exit.
âNo thanks,â Travis answered as he removed his cell phone and checked to see if he had any messages. Seeing that he had none, he put it away
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