‘I should be done in ten minutes, fifteen at tops. Please wait. There are plenty of sports magazines and Marcia will give you a headset that plugs i...to the company mp3 collection. See ya in a bit. Oh, here’s your hanky.’ She didn’t even wink. He took the damp object and put it in his pocket resisting the urge to sniff it. As he headed back to the lobby he glanced at the sculptural clock in the corner and was astonished to see it was just one minute past midday. It felt like mid afternoon. He. "Simon shook his head. "I need a drink." You've had enough to drink, could you just lay off it until we've talked." Dan said desperately."Who do you think are? My fucking wife?" With that he elbowed past Dan and went into the dining room. He was pouring himself a vodka as Dan followed him in. Finally he settled into a seat, "Okay, who the hell are you then?"Dan took a deep breath. "It started nearly a week ago when I crashed my car after drinking too much."Simon had a pale, horrified look on. She wanted to immerse herself in the myriad of possibilities that might flow from such an encounter.She was thinking that she had not yet looked up adultery when Rick suddenly popped back in the car breathless, having run all the way from the concession stand where he had purchased a pack of Milk Duds. Impulsively, she took them from him and pretended that she was going to eat them all. He reached for them and she pulled them away. He lunged across the seat falling upon her before as she kept. Then he had realized that the group was Toby Cerutti's entourage."Get out of my chair," Brock had ordered a guy who was sitting in front of the locker assigned to him. The guy had his food stashed in Brock's locker and appeared to have opened the game shoes and batting gloves that were in there."Fuck you, Rookie," Cerutti had sneered. "Maybe I'll make you dress in your car all year." And maybe I'll do everyone a favor and pound your no-talented ass into the pavement," Brock had shot back. "Now.
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