The Game Begins

 276.

A hundred giant screens show the sports action from an equal number of venues. One can literally bet on cricket, assuming one understands its scoring system, from India, rugby from New Zealand or thoroughbred racing from upstate New York, all at the same time. It is a kaleidoscope of action, drama, elation and heartbreak. Inside the sports bar of any name casino, there is no need for anything more - the intrepid player can indulge in good food, flowing liquid refreshment and all the athletic entertainment imaginable, all in the comfort of a padded booth, table or barstool. For the people watcher it is a bonanza.

Davis, as Sharkey and Saunders as Bess, show up thirty minutes before game-time with jitters comparable to the players on each team who will face each other for the glory of competing in the NFLs crown jewel, the Super Bowl, in two weeks. Under normal circumstances Davis would sip a beer to reduce the edge tension, but Sharkey knows better and orders a ginger-ale on the rocks. Saunders does likewise opting for an iced-tea. They order from the game-day menu selecting the hundred dollar surf n turf special. A pair of salads take the tab well over a buck and a half. They settle into their reserved booth with unobstructed visibility to the main screen where a female color commentator is chatting with the injured star running back for the ten point underdog Rams.

Sharkey sets up shop assembling his side of the semi-circle marble tabletop with two newspapers, a clipboard, the daily sheet and the main prop, the golden ticket. The Queen has provided precise instructions on how to place his bets, but to add an additional layer of intrigue, or to make it appear legit, he plans of betting as if it was his money on the line. Management, Goldson, has waived the maximum amount for his partner VIPs so the sky, as is often said, is the limit. Bess plays the part of bored accomplice, a perfect guise for her to scan the field of play with relentless observation, a proxy for security and surveillance. As perfect as she is for this undercover assignment, and as evidence continues to suggest that the trauma and suffering from a gun shot wound was from a source other than their current hosts, she is cautions and unconvinced for one reason: These guys enjoy taking candy from babies and money from their parents; what would they NOT do to protect their fertile golden goose?

After a great show of inner debate, Sharkey has his betting card ready to go and eyes the line at the window. He can, as a house VIP, simply call a runner to take and place his bet, but chooses to experience the thrill of putting his fate in the hands of a team of gladiators, the thought of which creates a rush of adrenaline similar to when he was the participant and not the spectator. He excuses himself and queues up at the window, kickoff minus ten.

Bess is sitting alone in the booth when two suited gentlemen approach, introducing themselves as security sent by Mr. Goldson, and asking about her, and their, accommodations, "Mr. Goldson has asked if a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon might be of interest, a special gift for our VIPs."

"How considerate," she says, "thank you, that would be great."

"Is there anything else we can do to add to your experience?"

"Sharkey thinks the Rams are not only going to cover but win outright, could you influence that outcome perhaps?"

"Ahem, well, no, but it is our understanding that YOU can, and hence our augmented security," he says with more bravado than necessary.

"Wouldn't THAT be nice?" she asks with comic rhetoric.

"Enjoy your stay and good luck."

"We will, thank you again."

Sharkey is back from placing his wager holding the ticket for her to see.

"Don't over react, but Houston, we have a problem," she says.

Sharkey is watching the screen and sipping his ginger-ale as he asks what type of problem she refers to without actually turning to look at her.

"Two of Goldson's goons we here asking about our level of enjoyment, and one of them slipped, maybe, that he knew, maybe, about the sting."

"Yes, I saw them at the table. I remember the one guy from security, what exactly did he say to make you nervous?"

"He said that although he could not change the games outcome, it was his understanding that we could. I thought the three of us were the only ones in on it?"

Sharkey glares at the big screen with both sides now lining up for the opening kick.

"Hummm. I wouldn't worry about it."

"I am worried about it."

"Maybe you should go back to the room. I can take it from here."

"No, but let's stay on guard."

A roar goes up in the crowded carpeted arena as the game begins.