Carl lied. He wasn't anywhere near Chicago. His newly acquired motorcycle had taken him two-hundred-and-fifty miles west, where he now sat on a picnic bench, watching a shallow creek meander through autumn-brilliant trees while he spoke to the phone.
"The game, Aaron. That's all there is. That's all there ever was." A chill wind bit into him. "So here's the deal. I'm offering you one last chance to play. Tomorrow night. The usual place. But if you don't show up or you bring help, you'll piss me off even more than you already have. If you betray me again, I'll come to you, but the next time, you won't get fair warning. It'd be nice to meet your lovely wife."
Through the phone, Carl heard a noise as if a hand slammed a table.
"Now you're threatening my wife?" Aaron shouted. "You cocksucker!"
"That's the spirit, Aaron."
Carl broke the connection.