“Yes?”
“You have one more visitor, Third Cousin.”
He sensed it would sneer if it could.
“I have evening plans.”
“At six-thirty. It is five, which leaves sufficient time.”
“Not if we reschedule.”
“He’s sent by the Family House.”
The A12 returned with a tall, stiff-looking guy who couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands.
“This is Dr. Pablo Diaz.” The A12 handed Kenuda a file, cheerfully closing the door.
Kenuda sullenly pointed Pablo onto the couch.
“Did I get you leaving, Third Cousin?”
“Yes,” he grumbled, stopping on the first page. “You’ve not even been accepted yet?”
Pablo shrugged. “I was told you’d be my mentor.”
He tossed aside the file. “I haven’t received any word. You’re supposed to wait.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I jumped the gun.”
Kenuda raised an eyebrow.
“I know I’ll be accepted. If I could get a little help. A glimpse ahead.”
“By breaking the rules?”
“By starting my training on stronger footing. Is that breaking the rules? Otherwise why would I be given your name?”
Kenuda almost smiled. “You’re an arrogant little shit, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll have to shed the ego to be successful.”
“So you think. Save The Family through better dental hygiene.”
“Will this be more half-answers, sir? That’s all I’ve gotten so far.”
“You think there’s something wrong with the process?”
“I think simple and direct is better, Third Cousin.”
“Because serving as a Cousin is simple and direct?” Kenuda clucked his tongue. “It’s all about half-answers, Diaz. Be bold but not too bold. Without ego, but confident you know what you’re doing. Move up because it helps The Family, but not yourself. But if you don’t help yourself, how can you help The Family.”
“That seems to be my brief experience, sir.”
Kenuda grinned. “Where are you screwing up the most?”
“I tend to observe.”
“Observing isn’t a good trait.”
Pablo nodded unhappily. “I like to know the facts.”
“Assuming there are facts.”
“There are always facts.”
“Not necessarily the right ones. Sometimes the wrong ones are more important.” Kenuda glanced at his watch and poured a couple large Montana brandies. “You do know all this is confidential.”
“Of course.”
Kenuda weighed the somber, earnest face and decided Diaz wouldn’t give up the nuclear codes under torture. “I played basketball.”
“Yes, at Temple.”
Elias raised the glass in grudging respect. “I was good, but my fatal flaw was trusting teammates. I was a point guard and they couldn’t handle my passes. Bullets, right through their hands. I led them perfectly and the pass still went out of bounds. I looked like shit. I don’t like looking like shit, Diaz. I talked to them, practiced endlessly, but they sucked. What would you do?”
“I’m not a sports fan.”
“I’ll let you get away with that for now. I kept passing. I could’ve taken the shots, but how would that’ve helped?”
“What if you made the shots, sir?”
“What if I did? Then it would’ve been Kenuda the star, instead of Temple University the team.” He shrugged. “We still finished 6-15 in my senior year, but that was the right thing. Helping. So here I come to Fifth Cousin, years later. I realized I was wrong. Leading means rising above. They won’t tell you that because you’ll hear all of Grandma’s warnings about elitism. She’s right. Unless you lead for a reason, Diaz. If you know you’re good, lean into it, because that’s where you’ll make a difference. Just don’t let anyone know how good you are.”
“Are you, sir?”
Kenuda snorted. “During the first session with my mentor, First Cousin Albert Cheng, I explained my dilemma from college. They love moral quandaries and seeing how we’d get to the other side. He said Grandma doesn’t want us to do what she says. That’s where everyone gets tangled up. Like you. Do what’s right. Show them you have the balls to set the agenda. Take risks.”
“Like breaking the rules by meeting my mentor?”
Kenuda smiled. Brash, pretentious and somewhat annoying. Familiar, Elias? “You like pop music?”
“I prefer Bach, sir.”
“So do I. But Dara Dinton has presence.”
Pablo grinned. “I’d be honored.”
• • • •
HAZEL SNEERED AT Frecklie’s hand outstretched over the gaping crater which was framed by jagged rocks, ending somewhere down there in the darkness.
“It’s dangerous,” Frecklie insisted again.
Hazel patted his right leg. “Works fine.”
The reporter had nearly fallen into the hole by Section 120. Show off, the teen sighed. He wouldn’t care if the guy fell into the hole. He didn’t like him. Something about the way he shorthanded, but not meaning it. Big smile, way too cheerful. Frecklie didn’t trust especially happy people; his mother said they were usually covering up.
But Puppy insisted he show the guy around. More repairs were required now. About fifteen thousand fans came to the last game. They needed usable seats.
Hazel balanced pigeon-toed around the crater. He wavered a moment, but never panicked or showed any fear, concern, nothing. He kind of enjoyed the wobbling. Was he doing that because he enjoyed it or is he giving me the finger, Frecklie wondered. Hazel smiled triumphantly and hop-skipped to the other side.
“Where’s this lead?” Hazel asked.
“Below.”
“I know. Where below?”
“I’ve never been.”
“Can we go there?”
“Why? There are no seats, just the hallways to the clubhouse.”
“So you have been?”
“Only at the clubhouse. Not everywhere under the stadium. It’s dangerous.”
Hazel peered into the hole and followed Frecklie past the shuttered concession stands.
“There was quite an assortment of foods here once,” Hazel commented on the worn signs for barbecued chicken, sushi and pizza.
“We have new ones now, too,” Frecklie snapped.
“Hey, I was just saying.” Hazel smiled disarmingly. “Can those booths be re-opened? Might be nice. Retro.”
“Let’s worry about the hallways.”
“You’re the boss.”
Frecklie choked back an answer and navigated around a four-foot high pile of concrete. Hazel paused by Section 220 and watched a few minutes of the Falcons batting practice.
“Are they bunting?” he grinned.
Frecklie wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Bunting.” Hazel mimed hands apart on a bat.
“I know, I know.”
“Are you something of a baseball expert now?”
“Something,” Frecklie said, struggling to show respect. “How much of the stadium are they fixing?”
Hazel looked around sadly. “Up to these second levels. Though who knows. Wouldn’t it be something to do it all?”
Frecklie perked up.
