The House of Grey Prologue - The Original Modern Fantasy Thriller

The House of Grey - Chapter 9 The Original Modern Fantasy Thriller

Chapter Nine

A Love Interest and an Antagonist

Thirty minutes later with schedules in hand, Artorius and Monson tried to catch up with their shorter companion. 

"So your session with Coach Able started out pretty rocky, huh?" asked Casey.

Monson answered with a self-satisfied smile. “Yeah it did, how did you know?”

"I was listening to the first half of your conversation, but had to leave partway through. I saw him afterwards, and he had a huge smile on his face. Things obviously turned for the better. What'd you do? Give him a lap dance?"

"Ahh, Casey, you're so witty I can hardly stand it.” Monson did his best to sound calm. It was costing him a great deal. “It was OK. He just wanted to know what I was planning on doing in this unique position of mine."

"What are you planning on doing?" Artorius finally fell into step beside his two friends. "Are you even planning on playing on the Legion?"

"No."

"I sense this is a good thing.” Casey threw his arm across his body stretching his back. "But I still don’t understand why you aren’t pissed. I mean, he made it pretty clear that, basically, you aren’t welcome in the Legion — shoot, welcome at Coren for that matter.”

“Don’t forget that he told me that I have to play nice with the media like some sort of performing monkey.”

 “Like I said — you’re OK with that?”

"Of course not, but I got what I needed out of the deal.”

Silence, in which Monson tried really hard not to laugh.

Artorius stopped directly in front of Monson. "Well? Are you going to tell us what happened or not?"

"Oh, you want to know what we said," responded Monson playfully, a huge smile stretching the width of his face. “I told Coach Able that I wouldn’t try to claim my position on the team and would do my P.R. dance if he’d give you two a real tryout. So I hope you two goofballs are as good as you think you are, because if you screw this up, I’ll have to kick you both in the teeth."

With that, Monson strolled past his two friends, their shock chiseled on their faces. When they finally snapped out of their reverie, Monson was halfway down the hall. “OK, spit it out!” Casey caught Monson’s arm as they rounded a corner. “How on Odin’s green earth did you pull that off?”

“Do you really think so?” Monson feigned ignorance. “Because I’m pretty sure that the earth is covered mostly with water, which, -- and I could be wrong -- is more of a blue color, but—”

“Monson!” shouted Artorius and Casey exasperatedly. “Out with it already!”

“OK, OK. Keep your pants on,” said Monson, finally. “It really wasn’t that hard. He wanted something from me but had no real leverage to get me to do it. So I told him that if he wants me to play nice, then I want something in return. This was the arrangement that we came to: you guys get a special tryout and I do what he asks. Simple.”

“That was ballsy,” said Casey with a mix of awe and horror. “Do you know what that man could do to you?”

“Give me the same ridiculous hair cut that he has?”

“Stop joking around, this is serious.”

“Jiminy Christmas,” Monson put up his hands in frustration. “You guys need to chill. If I explain, will you dial it down a notch?”