Lonni flashed the player schedule across her retina. Campbell should show up any minute. She’d thought through a handful of different scenarios and the cafeteria made the most sense as a place to strike up a casual conversation with the target of her investigation.
Cracking open the ladies’ washroom door, she peeked into the cafeteria for the hundredth time. What was taking him so long? She needed to position herself just right so the conversation would be his idea. Finally, she spotted him entering the dining area.
Lonni thrust the door open and followed her meticulously planned route to the salad bar where she grabbed a tray and proceeded to assemble a healthy lunch devoid of items that would stick in her teeth or take too long to chew. No strawberries or kiwi. No chicken. Well, just a little chicken.
Through the corner of her eye, she watched Campbell proceed as planned to the short order grill. Every player lined up there, everyday. Lonni didn’t understand why the cafeteria refused to replace the hot item section with another short order grill. She could have walked straight to the counter and grabbed a serving of lasagna without a wait. Or she could stand in line for several minutes for a one-pound burger with a wheelbarrow of fries.
Stick to the plan. Walking from the salad bar to the soda fountain took Lonni straight across Campbell’s field of vision. She pretended to be deep in thought over whether to select an organic soda or flavor water. As she filled one of the clear, plastic cups, she noticed him looking her way. The seed had been planted.
After a short wait at the register, she scanned her employee epidermal.
“Receipt, ma’am?” The attendant extended her a slip of paper
“What?” Lonni started. “Oh, of course.” She accepted the lengthy receipt, puzzled by how much paper it took to tally the cost of a personal salad and a fountain drink. As she navigated toward an empty table near the windows, she flipped the receipt over to find a clipped section of some kind of clinical report. She shrugged. At least they were wasting recycled paper.
While nibbling at her salad, she scanned the latest security summaries via ocular implant and cleared her inbox. A press release curated by Roman caught her attention—not because of her interest in the matter, but precisely because of her lack of interest. This marked the second odd tidbit Roman had flagged over the last twelve hours.
The headline read, “Vegas gambling flagship, The Locker Room, releases largest NFL line in history.” Lonni wasn’t even sure what the title meant, much less why Roman had dubbed it important.
A quick scan of the article revealed the sporting contest under scrutiny to be Sunday’s game between The Dallas Cowboys and the San Antonio Aztecs. Lonni skimmed the article more closely. At -30 for the Cowboys, the current spread was the largest in history. Lonni reasoned the spread to be the advantage/disadvantage between the teams.
It wasn’t until near the bottom of the article she began to understand why such a large spread mattered. She processed the concepts on the fly. Bookmakers needed betting monies to divide evenly between both teams in the contest in order to ensure a steady profit based on taking a small percentage of every bet. Apparently such large spreads where seen as unstable and difficult to manage.
“Pardon me, ma’am.”
“Huh?” Lonni started at the nearness of Campbell’s voice.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Oh, um.” She scrambled to get back on script. She donned her mildly apologetic face and gestured toward the seat across from her. “Be my guest.”
“You don’t look so good. Early morning?” Campbell snatched the ketchup bottle and created a small lake of tomatoey sugar water on his tray.
Lonni tried not to think about the chemicals and processing involved in transforming glorious sun-ripened tomatoes into something nowhere close to healthy. “About as early as yours I suppose. Besides, look who’s talking.”
“Touché, Miss Fasano.” He gestured toward his banquet of fatty, fried foods. “Fry?”
Lonni shook her head. “It’s no wonder you had a cardiac arrest.”
“I had a what now?” He shoved several fries into his mouth at once.
“Oh God.” Lonni covered her mouth. That comment hadn’t been on the script. She was screwing everything up from the start. “What I meant to say was, I’m sorry for not taking your complaint more seriously this morning.”
“Really?” Campbell sprayed chunks of french fried potatoes then covered his mouth with his hand.
Clearly, Lonni had overthought the need to avoid food items that would stick in her teeth.
“Pardon my table manners. I suppose it’s the one area where my mother’s nitpicking never stuck.”
Lonni attempted to slough off her disgust. “Anyway, as you know, not much happens around here without Mr. Guerrero knowing about it.”
“Really.” Campbell swallowed.
“I mean, he must have been concerned about you when you didn’t show up for the offensive game plan meeting this morning.”
“I did show up for the meeting.”
“Late.”
“Mr. Guerrero wasn’t there.”
“He had to leave early.”
“I see.” Campbell sat his burger down. “So even the owner knows about the only tardy slip I’ve gotten in the past ten years.”
“He also knows why you were late.” Lonni was back on script. Confidently, she forked a manageable amount of lettuce into her mouth and used her lunch as a means to allow Campbell to squirm a little. She dabbed the corner of her lips with her napkin while watching Campbell’s face. Strange, he seemed more relieved than panicked.
She continued. “I guess I should have listened to you about your KIP. I can’t believe you actually blacked out.”
“Blacked out? Wait, is that what you meant by cardiac arrest? Did I have a fricken heart attack this morning?”
“Well,” Lonni tried to make herself blush. “I’m not so sure I was supposed to mention that. So you didn’t hear it from me.”
Campbell took a large bite out of his triple patty burger.
“I think Guerrero is a little concerned about the OSHA report and word getting out that the league’s new tantamount technology is killing people, even if only for a second.” She smiled.
“And you’re not concerned? I thought taking care of the equipment was your job.”
Lonni nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I’m very concerned. I’d like to run a diagnostic as soon as possible.” In truth she was extremely concerned. Just not for Campbell’s well being.
“Pardon my French, ma’am. But it’s about gol’dern time someone probe the machine rather than me.”
“There’s no need to bring up your personal life, CK.”
Campbell choked on his burger.
Lonni blushed for real. “My apologies.” She fumbled. “I guess it’s all the testosterone in the air.”
He swallowed and drank his water. “Understood.”
Lonni suddenly felt the need to end the conversation. “Your next practice isn’t scheduled until 3:30pm. So I’ll start my diagnostics right away.” She hefted her tray and stood.
“Are you going to finish that salad?”
Lonni blinked, taking a second to gather Campbell’s meaning. “Oh, um, be my guest.” She left the plate of half-eaten salad behind and turned to go.
“Thank you, Miss Fasano.”
“For the salad?”
“For keeping me from having another heart attack.”
Lonni opened her mouth to correct his misdiagnosis.
“My family and I, we need this job. I haven’t even finished college. Without football, I’ve got nothing.”
Lonni shut her mouth without saying anything she’d regret. Instead, she smiled and nodded.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
