Even though Rob arrived forty-five minutes ahead of schedule Gabe was there to meet him.
He seemed to have a sixth sense about that kind of thing.
They had chosen to meet at a small bar called The Alibi.
During the hours they couldn’t serve copious amounts of alcohol to the under-age or football crowds the Alibi happened to serve potstickers;
as rumor would have it, the best potstickers in town.
This was apparently a well-kept secret because almost no one chose to have lunch there.
Well, it was that or the rats.
Rob put in his order and joined Gabe at a booth near the back.
“What are you going by these days? Roger? Robert? Why not the old fashioned Ramie-”
“How long have you been waiting for me?”
“All week.”
After a long look at the man, Rob decided to believe him.
“So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“Well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming back and helping us out for a bit.”
“I thought that I made it clear when I quit that I didn’t want to deal with your kind anymore.”
“Clear as crystal,
but it would hardly be like your old job.
I’m getting sent off because of some whim that upper management is on and I’d like you to take over my position while I’m gone.”
“That’s generous of you,
but as I said, I’m done with that.”
“Awww… Not even after all these weeks I’ve spent buttering you up?”
“I thought you had an ulterior motive for showing up at my games.”
“Well, there was that, but the girls didn’t hurt either.”
And from there the topic turned towards the team’s chances of winning,
which of the players needed to get better, and the girl’s measurements.
It started with the donut.
Then he got bored and decided to see if the sandwich lady would react if he stared at her long enough.
Finally, it settled into a comfortable conversation.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“But it is, I’ve been interviewing these people for the longest time and I haven’t found a single one worth talking to.
They’re all boring,
disorganized,
or drunk from partying.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, every single one.”
“Well, I might have a better chance then,” he said, extending his hand,
“I’m Dane Bishop, pleased to meet you.”
Serra looked from her sandwich to his hand,
then back again as she recalled her ranting about the applicants.
Well, there are worse ways to introduce myself…
She eventually set down the sandwich.