Chapter Four: The New Coach

            A few minutes later, the three had exited the coffee shop.

“Is this going to work?” Glen said.

“These Albanians just want money; they can’t take our gang down. Why the hell are they based here in wealthy suburban neighborhoods?” Rudy said.

“I thought they like these neighborhoods by choice.”

“Despite how they look down on our culture, they are peaceful. They just look at the Maury Show with disgust and they get highly offended that you stare at their hot sisters, Amel didn’t like it when I was staring that girl down.”

“Well, with the Maury Show, I have to agree with them.”

“Yes, but there are at least 30 million idiots who think that show is the best.”

Glen looked at Juby, then to Rudy, “I ask again, is this guy pulling a trick?”

Rudy looked at him too, “Highly unlikely, if he does, I do have a horn.”

“You’ll be leaving soon to South Carolina; it leaves me alone with this guy if this continues.”

“You got A.B., he ain’t leaving. He’ll work for you for a price.”

Glen looked back to Juby, “Hey, Jubes.”

He looked up, “Yeah?”

“The Post Bar, Clinton Township. You got a TomTom?”

“Uh… no.”

Glen gave him the two major crossroads and said which corner it’s at.

“Okay guys.” He approached Glen, “I hope me and you can be at good terms now.”

He held his hand out, wanting a hand shake.

“Post Bar, be there in twenty-five. Traffic in C-Town can be crappy so I can give you leeway.” Glen said.

“Oh…um, okay.”

Glen and Rudy entered the Ford Focus, before Glen started the car, Rudy chuckled.

“If it makes you feel better, he isn’t acting. He probably got his ass kicked in school a lot, that’s probably why he was acting like a hardass earlier.” Rudy said.

“But he’s acting like a wuss, now. He seems like he wants to curl up to me now. You say the Albanian’s are peaceful, if so, how if they are getting to him?”

Rudy looked at him, “He has no friends or backup, although he’s a cop. He’s probably not liked among the force, he’s young. He’s a fucking rookie. All clichés shit on the rookie. He can easily be manipulated if he’s going against a group of people.”

Glen started the car, “That’s a good point.”

 

            The home of Jim and Jasmine Raynor (brother and sister) was a single wide trailer made in the early seventies, laying on a lot in Chateau Clinton Township. The trailer was owned, not by them, but by then Colleen Herbers, now Colleen Warnock. She hasn’t of yet updated that info. The trailer had its amenities of what was modern at the time it was built in 1972. Living there for nearly three years, the two Raynor's had not done some serious upgrades to the trailer and it was really due to the lack of cash and the lack of caring. Although Jimbo received a cut for his help with Glen, a secret he kept from his mom, and his older brother and also the United States Government, the little more didn’t put the push so much into upgrading.

            The living room and the kitchen combined, with the front door being inside the living room area. Inside there were two couches (bought from the Salvation Army), a 27-inch flat screen TV on top of an old dresser and a side table made in the early sixties that contained the PlayStation 3 and Xbox360 laying on top. The kitchen table was passed along from two generations of Rucker’s, it was bought by the late grandmother and living grandfather Herbers, who passed the table along to his only daughter Colleen Herbers (later to be Colleen Rucker) before they retired to Florida. The glory of the grandfather was short-lived for a few months until his wife of 47 years suddenly died during a game of Backgammon at the retirement home. He moved on anyway and moved to a different part of Florida to rid away from that thought.

            Along with the kitchen, a rather old stove built in the sixties and a microwave made in the eighties, both bought from a second-hand appliance shop on the north side of Eight Mile. Jimbo felt like he walked into a time machine and got lost in the seventies when he was at the shop, with his mother Colleen buying with cash and his older brother Todd a little upset about how he didn’t get the privilege of his appliances bought and a free trailer.

            However, the two would be responsible for the lot rent which at all times were met, with small income to come up with.

            Jimbo and Jasmine were enjoying a bowl each of Ramen Noodles. They could do better with the little extra money around, but Ramen was a weapon of choice very often. In fact, the two ate Ramen Noodles at least 5 times a week and even for breakfast every once in a while, much to the frustration of their mother. Some knocks at the door had come to place in the home, in which both Jimbo and Jasmine heard while looking at each other and dropping their spoons. The two simultaneously got off their chairs and ran to the door’s window in hopes that it would be a friend (something the two lacked, minus Jimbo’s friendship with his would-be brother-in-law, Glen). Jasmine hoped it was one of her few friends while Jimbo hoped for it to be Glen or one of his friends in the park. Much to the dismay, it was a smiling Colleen Warnock wearing sunglasses and an elegant fur coat, behind them was step-father number two, Rob Warnock.

They walked away from the door and the two shook their heads at each other.

“Oh, not again.” Jasmine said.

“Well… let’s just get this over with. Maybe they can buy us some pizza this time.” Jim said.

Jasmine smiled, “I’ll do the talking.”

He smiled and opened the door, and the two entered.

“Well guys, it took your sweet-ass time to open the door. It’s cold out there.” Advertising her aggravation while entering, Rob closed the door behind her.

Jasmine walked towards her mother with open arms and wanting a hug. But Colleen turned around to ignore her and went to Jim instead.

“Hi, Jim.” She said in a tone of voice she speaks with when talking to child customers of Harbor Drugs, which Jim did not like. She proceeded to kiss him, but Jim backed away.

“Jim.” with a threating tone of voice.

She proceeded again, but Jimbo backed away one more time.

“Jim.” again, however she aggressively walked to him warped her arms around him and kissed his left eye. She then turned Jim’s head to face the wall and placed it against her and squeezed him, “Now, you remember who bought you your house.”

Jim did not offer his arms around her, he thought about pushing her away.

“Do you not love me?” she asked.

This scenario was nothing new to Jim, but he didn’t respond.

“Do you NOT love me, Jim? Because I can take this house away from you, you want that?” Colleen demanded.

“Hey, honey?” Rob seeing the melee and trying to intervene.

“Okay. I love you.” Jim finally giving up.

“Good.” She let him go and insulted Jim by kissing him in the cheek, next to be disgusted by tasting Jim’s dirty face, “Yuuuk!”

“Hey honey, do you think that was a little too harsh?” Rob asked.

“What’s harsh is that Jimbo is dirty,” she said to Rob, next to Jimbo, “when was the last time you took a shower, two weeks ago?” with the look of disgust in her face.

“No, after I got out of work yesterday.”

“Well, what were you doing all day?”

“I played some basketball today; I guess I broke a sweat.”

“Of course, you’re all sweaty and gross!” Colleen finished.

Rob rose his arms up, “Hey, Colleen, easy. He’s a guy. That’s what they do. Let him be a man.”

“Perhaps I should come down here every day to make sure he takes a shower.”

Jimbo visibly cringed on that one.

“Look, he’s not doing anything special, he’s just played a little ball, he’ll jump in the shower before he goes to bed. I mean he isn’t smelly. He never came to work with poor hygiene. He probably wasn’t expecting us today,” then he looked to Jasmine and Jim, “how about we order a pizza and settle on down.”

Jasmine had a smile that would probably crack her face wide open.

“Yes, might as well,” Colleen said, “I see once again they are eating Ramen Noodles.”

The smile dropped. One thing people who knew Colleen Warnock (nee Herbers/Rucker/Raynor) is that she can make a good day go bad with her dramatics and her demand for things to be up to her code. But the sad part was that some people were under her grasp, both professional and personal. And the unfortunate some would have to deal with it.

 

            The Post Bar was located in the middle of a major road in Clinton Township, between two mile roads of Metro Detroit’s famous east-to-west mile road system. The bar itself is the second business that occupied the building it was in, for was previously an independent hardware store. The ma and pa shop finally succumbed to Corporate America by going out of business but sold the building to an Italian man who wished to build a bar. And that he did.

Of all the bars Glen had frequented when he started his urge of gambling following Shelia’s death, he would say that the Post Bar is the best. It had flair, wooden walls to go before the white bricks, with random photos of anything Italian. The Post and its owner were rather proud of the Italian heritage. Although it was just mentioned as a bar, it was also a restaurant. And although it had no dress code, a well-dressed Glen minus the tie he was wearing earlier and a long-haired white thermal shirt and black jeans wearing had caught the eyes of some patrons. Some of classiest of Metro Detroit would come to The Post, as it was highly regarded in local Detroit magazines as a place to be.

            Glen and Rudy had sat at the bar, surrounded by mainly older Italian males wearing suits or dressed nicely watching the big screen TV showing ESPN. The Post also had Keno for those who wanted to try. The wait staff composed of women in white tuxedo blouses, a few wearing a blazer.

Rudy noticed this and said to Glen, “I can see why this place is busy; the owner has an all-female staff up front.”

Glen smiled on, “It usually works that way. The guy who runs my shop tells me to hire women.”

Rudy turned to Glen with a Budweiser in his hand, “and black people?”

He nodded with a smile, “You have to do a whole lot of things to keep it where white males can’t get a job. I once received a phone call from a women special interests group soliciting me to hire more females, and the lady over the phone said that a man like me shouldn’t work in Human Resources. Then I asked her why, and she said that I would be more preferable to men then women.”

“I surprised you got the job, that’s a female job, you homo.”

“It’s a step until I become a store manager or a job like Mom’s.”

“Yeah, like hers, you can just sit in an office and make little decisions and make over hundred-thousand dollars.” Rudy said, he then looked over, “where’s Puby at?”

“Puby,” Glen remarked, “we can call him pubes.”

After a crowd had walked down the hallway within the sight of Rudy and Glen, Juby had walked into the bar with regret on his face.

“Where the hell were you?” Rudy asked.

“Got caught in traffic.” Juby said.

“You a damn cop, you are allowed to run red lights.” Rudy said.

“No, I can’t. I don’t even have one of my own sirens to do that, and if I were to get caught, I could lose my job.” Juby said.

Rudy and Glen looked at each other, thinking that a cop like him could not use some authority on the road. Many possible answers to that circled around Glen’s mind on why he would not, if provided he wasn’t.

“Okay, Jubes, let’s get started, let’s get you a pair of balls down there.” Glen said.

Rudy laughed at that.

The two headed to the bar and got seats, Juby followed.

“I talked to the nice bartender lady here and the Boston/Philadelphia game will be on a few. So, there is a man three seats away from us on the right, go bet $250 on Boston winning, because he thinks Boston will lose.”

“Boston will lose,” Juby said, “Philadelphia is more powerful.”

“Boston plays like a team with discipline; Philadelphia depends on three star players and the power play to win games.”

“Philly has a better record.”

“Boston’s close to it and they play like a team. Go and make the bet.” Glen said.

“If I lose two-fifty…” Juby was about to say.

“Listen…” Rudy interrupted with a twenty-four inch voice, “you won’t do shit. You ain’t shit. My cousin won my biker gang a good deal of money and is right at least 75% of a time,” he got closer to his face, “make the fuckin’ bet or go find your balls.”

Juby backed away of the intimidation while keeping his eyes on Rudy.

“Go on, Pubes, don’t be weak.” Rudy said.

Juby walked to the man they told him about; he was facing to the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. He had tan skin and anyone could guess he happen to be Italian.

“Um, excuse me?” Juby said while tapping him in the shoulder.

He slowly looked over, he was Italian alright, balding hair, a senior-citizen obviously telling from the wrinkles in his face.

He smiled with yellow teeth and said with a noticeable accent, “Yeah, what da ya want, young man?”

Juby was a little nervous, the dealing with Rudy had got to him as he quickly said, “I hearya betting on f-f-filly on winning.”

The man on his left, a bald Italian man with the same shade of tan for his skin turned over to look at Juby, while the man he spoke to had a dull look on his face.

“What da ya sayin?’”

“I want t-to bet on Boston w-winning.” Juby said.

The man smiled wide, “You wanna go against me?”

Juby anxiously nodded, “Y-yes.”

The two men looked at each other; the bald man gave him a quick head lift, smiling as he turned to the bar.

“Alright, but the bet is two hundred dollars or more, whadya say, young man?”

“S-sure.” Juby said.

“Looks like ya about to piss ya pants, you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” Juby quickly whisked.

“Lemme see that ya got 200.”

Juby pulled out three hundred and split out ten twenty dollar bills for him to see.

“Okay, they look real,” he said while pulling out his money to show he also had two-hundred dollars of his own, “got mine, but ya ain’t gonna win. Philly’s gonna kick Boston’s ass.” He followed with a laugh.

Juby didn’t reply.

He tapped Juby’s shoulder, “you’re gonna lose your allowance.”

The bald man laughed at that one.

Juby walked away and into the realm of Glen and Rudy. Glen looked back to see Juby a little pale.

“Did you see a ghost?” Glen asked.

“Oh, um, no. But I think I just made a bet with the Italian mob.” Juby asked.

Glen looked away, “Well, you better pay him up when you lose.”

Rudy chuckled.

“Wait…” he walked between the two of them sitting, “are you guys trying to screw me? Amel won’t like that.”

“No, we are trying to make you win, so Rudy’s biker gang can get a cut and I can add a little more for me and perhaps you can upgrade to number four. So sit back and relax.” Glen said.

Juby took the stool next to Glen.

 

            The Raynor’s and Warnock’s were sitting at the kitchen table with two pizzas from a corporate chain, with plates filled with Pizza, sans Jasmine’s plate in which she already ate one and one only.

“Jasmine, are you going to eat anymore?” Colleen asked.

She shook her head, with the black bangs twirling as well.

Colleen gave her a faint look, “I wish you’d eat a little more often. What did you guys eat for breakfast? Pop Tarts again?”

She nodded.

Colleen sighed, “You guys, you two just can’t eat Pop Tarts for breakfast. And Ramen Noodles too. I swear, I wanted to kick Jim’s ass when he told me he ate Ramen for breakfast.” She said that last sentence to Rob.

Jim stopped in his tracks on biting that slice of Supreme Pizza and poured a dirty stare to his mom.

“Well, they are adults. Yes, Ramen for breakfast isn’t the breakfast of champions. But, hey, they are skinny. Not many people in this country are skinny. For a group of people who are overweight, I think we need to be proud.” Rob said.

Jim and Jasmine smiled. Rob looked over to blink his eye to Jim.

“I’m just saying, Rob, that they can eat a little more. I know they have the cash.”

“We are okay, we just don’t think about food often.” Jim said.

“I don’t like you eating Pop Tarts for breakfast.” Colleen said.

Jimbo shrugged it off and continued with his Pizza.

“Anyways, I also want to tell you guys, that, Mr. Grenk over there at the Shelby Township Harbor Drugs is officially retiring, his last day was today. So until then, I’m doing split duties from our store and that store and I’ll be on the clock for over sixty hours a week splitting duties. So, I also won’t be at out store so much.” Colleen said.

Jim and Jasmine looked over to that.

“Yes, I will also not be coming here more often, but, we gotta pay bills. Plus, I’ll get a bonus.” Colleen added.

Jim and Jasmine looked at each other, with smiles on their faces; less of their mom coming by, good for them.

“How come you two are smiling like that?” Colleen asked.

Jim looked at his mother to see a face of wonder, then said, “well, we are proud of your promotion, and you get a bonus. We are just proud.”

“Yeah, we’re proud.” Jasmine saying with a smile on her face, enthusiasm added.

“Oh, well. Okay, thanks. I appreciate that from you James… or Jim, I’d kiss you but you’re filthy.” Colleen added.

‘Jesus Christ.’ Jim thought.

           

            The Post Bar was still filled with people as the first intermission of the Boston/Philadelphia game was showing on ESPN. Juby could breathe a little better while Rudy and Glen sat calm, with the score at 2 to 1 in Boston’s favor. He leaned over to see the man he bet against, hover over Glen’s shoulder. He saw the man looking his way but talking to the bald man next to him. The betting man regarded Juby and gave him a wave.

“I’d advise you to stop looking at him over and over.” Glen said to Juby, but not looking at him and drinking his pop.

Juby stopped and leaned over to the bar, “Sorry.”

“I hope you are. Looking over like that is a sign of weakness. I imagine they told you about intimidation during the police academy.”

Juby smiled, “They did, but I failed at the academy.”

That spooked Glen a little and Rudy heard that too, he looked over to him, “You failed cop school?”

“Yes, came a little short.” He said.

“Damn, Puby. How the hell did you become a cop?”

“It just happened.” He said with a smile.

Rudy this time, “it just happened?”

Juby nodded with that smile on his face and holding a beer.

Glen looked to Rudy, “It just happened.”

“I didn’t know they were lowering the standards in law enforcement.” Rudy said.

Juby heard that and his smile dropped, “Hey, I applied, they took me.”

“Do you have any military history?”

“Army, four years, Infantry.” He said.

“Oh, that’ll work.” Glen said, fading out the scare of a cop who shouldn’t really be a cop.

 “So far, you’re right.” Juby said, coming up with the smile again.

“I know.” Glen said sarcastically.

“How do you know that Boston will win? How do you know all this? Is it math?” Juby asked.

Glen drunk his Pepsi a little, a rarity by restaurants to serve Pepsi opposed to the popular Coca-Cola, and shook his head a little.

“C’mon, it’s gotta be math.”

“Have you ever heard of statistics?”

“Yeah, but, why look?”

Glen looked to him, “I’m surprised you got a job with the mob, stats are important, especially team stats. I’d highly suggest you look into the leagues sites.”

“Well, I just never like looking at that, I hate numbers.”

“You’re going to have to like numbers in order to get a good winning percentage in this business.” Glen said.

Rudy agreed to that, “You can trust him on that.”

“So, really, do team stats or player stats give you a good prediction?”

“Both, but also, like I said: Boston plays like a team, and that can be determined by looking at the player stats and filter only Boston’s stats.”

“Sounds confusing, I hope you are around for a while.” Juby said while drinking a beer.

“Do you know anything about Sabermetrics?” Glen asked him.

He placed his beer down on the bar fast and nearly choked, “Saber-what?”

“Sabermetrics?”

Juby looked at Glen with dull and shook his head, “You’ve gone too far, what the hell is Sabermetrics anyway?”

The bartender gave Rudy a beer and a kind smile.

“It’s used mainly in baseball, but Hockey also uses them. Sabermetrics really entails how a team can do in any situation.”

Juby looked away and to the TV screen, “this sounds really fucking confusing.”

“Look into it, you’ll get the idea after reading about it for a while. So, how are you Amel’s number five?”

Juby looked to him while drinking his beer, and then said, “It’s his quote-unquote, pitching rotation.”

“I know Albanians don’t dig baseball, but why would he call it that?”

“It means it’s his five gamblers, the ones that get the money.”

“And you are the worst?” Glen asked.

Juby didn’t reply and Rudy laughed at that.

 

            Tommy saw the clock at 9:17pm, he was getting his work gear on, a polo shirt with a side logo and dress pants for a fast food joint that would be doing drive-thru from 10pm to 5am. It was his income besides gambling (when he would make a profit), although he really worked three or four days a week. It was a job he hated and wished he didn’t have.  His idea was to push Glen into making bigger bets and insulting him if he did not, due to the possible opportunity that he can leave his crap job and gamble for a living.

            His room was like any room of an early twenty-something male living at mom’s house. He had a queen-sized bed that wasn’t made, a laptop, a stereo-system with plenty of CDs of Hip Hop, Rap and R&B, but not limited to a few CDs of Alternative Rock groups. Also, was a little coffee table that aligned with his bed that had some knick-knacks, cigarettes, a bowl with some marijuana nearby in a little bag and also his work tag with it saying, “Hello, my name is:” and with black letter on a white sticker, “Tom.”

He was about to clip it on until a text tone from his phone hit his ears. He went to the phone that was placed on top of his stereo system to check the text.

From the sender named: Rob-star, it stated, ‘Celtics r fukin up da Lakers. U better b ready to pay $$$.’

            “Augh shit!” Tom remarked.

 

            Still at the Raynor home, the four sat with a finished pizza pie and a second that was half way eaten. The conversation went back to normal since the past twenty minutes just before Colleen had an issue. She turned it around by talking about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and how Todd was a serious fan of them back in the heyday of the early 1990s, and their love of Pizza. She mentioned the past a couple of times, such as Todd’s 8^th birthday party at a place called Major Magic’s, a child’s restaurant with an arcade, ball pit and also: automated robots in the form of cartoon animals singing songs for the kids to be entertained.

            Jimbo then asked Rob, “Hey, how’s your job as the supervisor?”

Rob smiled, “its going fine. I love my job and each day, it gets better and better.”

 Jim nodded, “I wish I had a job with like Clinton Township, I would like the outdoor activity, you know, Parks and Rec.”

Colleen looked to Jimbo harshly, “What, you don’t appreciate the job I gave you?”

Jim shook his head, “No, I do. But I think I could do better with a job in Parks and Rec. I would like something like that.”

Colleen leaned forward to Jim, much too close past his comfort level, “You have Aspergers Syndrome.”

Jim acknowledged that, “I know, but I know I can do better than Harbor Drugs.”

“No Jim, you need to stay in Harbor Drugs, with me and your brother. I don’t think working in Parks & Rec without me or your brother keeping an eye on you.” Colleen said while looking away and shaking her head.

“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me, more or less Todd too.” Jimbo said while bashing his fist parallel to the table.

Colleen looked back at Jimbo with her patented stare of death, with a stern but easy tone, “James Leon Raynor.”

“Look, be angry all you want…”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Colleen raising her voice a few octaves.

“I just know I can…”

“James!”

“I can do better!” Jim said over her voice.

Colleen sighed harshly and looked to Rob, “You know… ever since Sheila died…”

Jim and Jasmine began to show disgust to each other after that mention. Rob saw this, but kept his attention to his wife, he had seen this a few times with Colleen’s mention of ‘ever since Sheila died…’ followed by what wrongs have been done to her, or what she think is wrongdoing to her. And it was obvious that Jim and Jasmine were beyond sick of hearing it.

“You know, no one appreciates what I’ve done for them. Especially James!” she finished the sentence while sternly pointing at Jim.

“I do appreciate the job at Harbor Drugs, I just think I can do better.” Jim said.

“You know, if he thinks he can, I can see about getting him a job in the spring time, I’m supposed to add two people in Parks and Rec, we can give him a try.” Rob suggested.

“I would rather him be at Harbor Drugs. I don’t like the idea of him working like that on his own.” Colleen said.

“I can do it.” Jim said.

She looked at Jim, “Okay, and if you do get the job, how are you going to get there? The office is on the northern side of the township, where there is no buses running through there. You don’t have a car, so how are you going to get there.”

“I’ll buy one.” Jim said while starting with another slice of pizza.

“What, some two-hundred dollar car that barely moves?”

Jim shrugged, “I gotta try.”

“It will not work out, Jim.”

“I can probably move to Macomb.”

“Do you know how much it cost to live there?”

“Maybe I can live with Glen, if so he offers.”

“It will not work out. I bought you and Jasmine this mobile home, you are staying and you will not…” Colleen stopped herself and covered her face.

Jim was about to say something, but she began to cry.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” Rob said.

Jim and Jasmine looked down again, shaking their heads.

“Why can’t you just appreciate what you have, Jim?”

Jim put up the white flag, he could not win this one while his mother played the ‘woe is me’ card.

“You know…” she got off of her chair, “I sure wish I could say it was nice seeing you, Jim.”

And she walked out the door without any words said to her, slamming the door to note to Jim and everyone else that she is upset.

“Um, well, listen guys,” Rob said, “she’s just upset over Sheila and…”

“So am I and Jasmine too.” Jim interrupted.

“I know, but it has hit her hard.”

“Hard enough for her to treat me like a six-year-old kid and embarrass me in public while allowing Todd to sell pharmaceuticals illegally, and for her to inherit them for her own personal use, which is also illegal?”

“She’s got her issues. Trust me, she is trying to stop.”

“She’s not doing a good job of it. She and Todd just live in their own worlds who think anyone who opposes them or at least just disagrees are bad people, Todd has no problem referring to people who disagree with him as gay.”

Rob nodded, “Yes, obviously Todd has an issue with gays, but, you know, the both of them are confused.” Rob said while getting off of the chair.

“And that’s okay?” Jim asked.

“It’s not,” Jasmine added, “mom has a problem with my sexual preference. Todd’s a pervert and says he wants to tape me having sex with a girl.”

Rob had heard that again and shook his head, “what Todd said to you last week was wrong. Trust me; he had a stern talking to about what he said. Mom is angry about it.”

“I bet she’s angrier at me for not allowing her to control me, than Todd saying that shit to Jasmine.” Jim said.

 

            Regulation time of the Boston/Philly game was closing to zero, the patrons at the bar area of The Post were watching on with a few bets lingering in the air. But all patrons knew that a young man with another young man who looked similar, along with a biker, would be winning his bet more than likely. Glen and Rudy looked in dismay at Juby’s little celebration dances and the show of emotion. Although likely, he was going to win, Glen, a sophomore gambler and a man who lost his serious sense of emotion when reaching College and more after the death of his wife-to-be, did recommend before and during the first intermission to not to celebrate until the clock hit zero with your team winning. Rudy believe Juby was a homosexual, due to some noticeable flamboyance to go with his little dances.

            The clock hit zero with the score Boston 5, Philadelphia 3, giving true permission to Juby to celebrate. And that he did, he danced to the man he bet against with pep in his step. That betting man looked towards him with a shake of his head.

“You know, it looked like you were going to piss yourself when you made the bet, now, you trying to act like your bad. First time betting?” he asked, along with the bald man looking on as well.

“Just shut up and pay, bitch. You lost.” Juby said with a smile with the attempt to sound like a black man from a ghetto street gang.

This got the attention of some of the patrons at the bar, including Glen and Rudy.

The betting man and bald man looked at each other, “Can’t you believe the nerve of this guy?” the betting man said.

The bald man smiled on that.

Nevertheless, the betting man pulled out the wad of cash and sorted out two Benjamin’s for Juby, “Tell you mom that you were able to double your allowance.”

Some of the patrons laughed at that, along with Glen and Rudy and including the barmaid.

Juby dropped the smile, “tell your mom you lost yours.”

“Formaris Pizzeria in Troy, she’s over there, along with a couple of my brothers who don’t take kindly to idiots like yourself, especially dirty cops.”

Glen and Rudy looked at each other on that one.

Then Rudy said in silence to Glen’s ear, “Formaris is Italian Mob.”

Glen joked, “Maybe we can get Juby killed.”

Rudy chuckled without silence, “sounds like a good idea.”

The two got off their stools and Glen handed the barmaid a fifty and said to her, “keep the change.” And proceeded to leave the bar, walking around Juby who felt threatened.

At the corner of his eye, Juby noticed that Glen and Rudy were leaving.

“Hey guys, wait up!” he said while escaping the confrontation with the betting man and trying to keep up with Glen and Rudy.

The bald man got off his stool and said, “You lost to a kid.”

The betting man said, “Yes, he seems a little…gay.”

The bald man chuckled at that one.

“How come that kid seems familiar?”

“I think he works with the Albanians in St. Clair Shores, I’ve seen the guy.”

“What about those two guys he is with?”

“Long haired guy?”

The two looked at each other and said simultaneously, “Biker.”

A little silence came between the two.

“Who the hell is that other guy?” The betting man asked.

The bald man shrugged, “Never seen him, probably with the Albanians.”

The betting man shook his head, “That guy ain’t Albanian, I heard him speak, he’s American.”

“Yes, but why do they have one of these bikers for help?”

“Security? Those two guys look like they need it.”

“I think we need to talk to the Albanians.”

“I’ll see if I can a few hours off of making pizzas.”

The two grabbed their coats and proceeded to the exit.

“Damn, we are not good with hockey; I can see why the Albanians use Americans to go against us.” The betting man said.

“Not a bad idea, we need to find a few.” The bald man added.

 

            Glen and Rudy kept walking into the windy Michigan night, with Juby leading the way with his celebratory matter going down. He jumped up and down with excitement.

“He must lose a lot.” Glen said.

“Yes, you better let those Albanians know you want more money if they expect for you to babysit him, me playing security is free for today, but I’m gonna want more money soon.” Rudy said.

Juby began to walk his way to his car, while the two walked a different direction. They also noticed that a few people outside having a smoke were staring at Juby and his antics. He continued on all the way to his car, and walked to the driver’s side. He noticed Glen and Rudy by the Ford Focus.

“Hey, guys?” Juby called out.

Rudy was about to open the door to the Focus, the two looked to Juby.

“Let’s go back to the Shoreline Inn and celebrate, I’ll buy.”

“I got to go to work early.” Glen said.

“What? Hey, I think Amel would like for you to celebrate with me, c’mon. Just for an hour.”

Rudy stepped inside the car, while Glen shook his head, “I here to help you make money, not to be your friend.”

Glen also stepped into the car, started it up and the two took off.

Juby watched the drive off north.

“Fucking dickheads.” he said while shaking his head.

The disappointment of the two of them not accepting him had angered him somewhat.

“Hey?” said the betting man.

Juby looked over to the voice, to see the two men he was bragging to earlier.

“We know you are working with the Albanians, we know that long-haired prick is a biker. But who the hell is that other guy?” he asked.

 

            Glen and Rudy entered the condo, with Glen giving Rudy the right to crash on the couch at his house. The two took of their shoes (or boots as Rudy was wearing) and they split into different areas of the condo.

“If you are going to watch TV, keep the volume down, gotta make a call.” Glen said from the kitchen.

“I’ll keep it down, is there any horror flicks on Netflix?”

“Hell yes, take your pick.”

Rudy sat on the couch while powering up the TV and the PlayStation 3, while so Glen called Tom.

            Tommy was putting condiments on cheeseburgers and chicken sandwiches at a quick rate of speed; he would pass them along to the guy next to him who took care of adding fries or chicken nuggets with any of the demands. The screen indicated three orders in line, with now a fourth one added.

“Damn, why don’t you hungry white asshole hippos go somewhere else?” Tom said out loud.

The young black and chubby co-worker next to him laughed at that and said, “reminded me of Hungry Hungry Hippos, man.”

“Man, fuck these people.” Tom said.

His phone ringed an R&B jingle, stopped everything and answered it, “Yeah?”

“Tommy!” said the voice over the phone.

“Glen?”

“Tommy!”

“Glen, stop that shit.”

“Tommy!”

“Glen, what the fuck!?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, faggot. I can hear you.” Tommy said.

He had one hand on the phone while trying to put mayonnaise and sauce on buns.

“Good, since you often complain about how I don’t go over the thousand-dollar mark, I want to inform you that I got close.”

“You win?”

“I’m being bought.”

“Bought? What, you whoring yourself out in Shelby?”

“Nah, consultant.”

“So, no bet, just someone is buying you. Well, not bad,” he put the phone between his ear and his shoulder while trying to package the food, “you’re half-a-pussy now, but good job anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear I have half of your approval.”

“So, whose buying your ass?” then next to his co-worker, “man, help me out with this shit!”

Glen knew he was at work and was talking to somewhere else, “I’m helping out the Albanians temporarily.”

“Albanians?” asked Tom, he grabbed the phone with his hand and stopped with work altogether.

“Yes, sounds like you don’t like it.”

“Man, Albanians hates blacks, they hate our country, and they are taking your cut and sending back to their country. The fuck man?”

While so, as his co-worker was finishing up his job, the light-skinned and lovely black female awaited the food, while a female outside the drive-thru window looked onto Tom who found him cussing over the phone opposed to what it appears to be him not making her food.

“Well, Tom, the reason why Albanians don’t like Americans is because they see how our culture works on The Maury Povich show.”

Rudy laughed at that one.

“Fuck you, Glen.” Tom said.

“Tommy, get the damn food.” said the female.

That got his attention, “oh shit, you got it Russ?”

“I ain’t doing your job again, nigga.” He said.

Tom smiled at him, “man, fuck you too,” as he grabbed the bags and handed it over to the female, “here ya go, lovely.”

“I hope you aren’t saying that to me.” Glen said.

“No Glen, fuck you, you faggot.” Tom said over the phone.

“Anywho, just wanted to let you know that we might up ourselves a little, so don’t screw up.”

“Alright Glen, but I’m not hangin’ out with these fuckin’ Albanians, unless they all chicks.” Tom said.

“Peace.” Glen said and ended the call.

He walked into the living room and headed to his room, but said to Rudy, “I’m punching out.”