Chapter 1

I couldn't stand it anymore. I'd been sitting there, fairly patiently considering the "heresy" spewing from this woman's mouth, waiting for her to run out of steam, but she just kept going, and going, and going. Apparently this woman, whose name I hadn't caught, although I'd heard just about everything else she'd had to say over the last thirty minutes, had previously lived in Phoenix and was a big fan of the Suns.

To say that she had no real affection for the hometown Mavericks was an understatement. Pure, unadulterated loathing might be close, but even then it wouldn't encompass the complete disdain she felt for Dallas. Frankly, her arguments were falling on deaf ears in this bar!

"You don't understand," she slurred. "Two years ago was your best chance to win. I should know, you know... I used to watch all the games on the television. But after you let Nash go... well, that was it." She hiccuped a boozy belch and looked ready to pass out. "I can't believe Mark Cuban was stupid enough to not sign him! In addition to being a two-time MVP, he has a great ass. I bet he's fabulous in bed."

As I said, I'd had enough of her taunting and finally stood and walked over to her bar stool.

"Miss," I said, trying to get her attention. The woman looked up at me, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Hey, you're kind of cute," she giggled. "What can I do for you?"

"You could shut the fuck up," I said. I was encouraged by the murmurs of agreement I heard from the rest of the bar's patrons.

"Well, fuck you, too," she said loudly. "Isn't this a free country? Isn't a girl allowed to voice her opinion anymore?" Another burp, followed by what looked like a bit of vomit and the woman finally shut up.

"Sure you can," I said. "Just don't use up all your hot air bashing the Mavericks, you hear?"

"I'll say what I want," she said.

"Your decision," I agreed. "I just think it's a waste of time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just wait until the first game. You'll see... Phoenix has no chance."

"Yeah, right." The woman actually snorted, although that might have been on account of the foam in her beer. "You don't even believe that."

"The hell I don't! Dallas is more physical, has a deeper bench, and in case you hadn't noticed, had a better record than the Suns."

"Yeah, but you don't have Steve Nash."

"And you don't have Dirk Nowitzki."

"As if that will be enough." She looked around the bar for support, apparently forgetting she was in Dallas, of all places. There was no support coming from this crowd.

"Trust me... Dirk will be more than enough against you guys. Not that I'm predicting a sweep, you understand, but this series should be over in six games, which should give Dallas more than enough time to rest up for the NBA finals."

"Wanna bet on that?"

Bet? Did I want to? Of course I did. I was confident. After all, the Mavericks had just defeated the defending NBA champion Spurs, on the road in San Antonio, in seven games. Before that we had swept the hapless Grizzlies in four games. What had Phoenix done so far? Barely got out of a first round series against a weak Lakers team and then went seven against the other Los Angeles team.

"I'm sorry, honey," I said. "If you can't demolish the Clippers, you don't belong in the conference finals. Bet? Hell yeah! What are we betting?" At my response the woman's eyes lit up and for a moment she looked almost lucid. But just for a moment.

"We're betting each other," she said. "Yeah... you're kind of cute. If... no, when the Suns beat up on your pathetic excuse for a basketball team, you get to be my personal slave."

I heard a couple of guys sitting nearby give a chortle at that.

"I'm serious," the woman continued after giving the men her best glare. "You can come over to my place and wash the carpets... you can empty out my refrigerator and straighten out my garage." Then her voice lowered. "And if you're a really good boy, I might even let you lick my pussy."

At that, there was a definite sound of amusement from the peanut gallery. I gave them my own glare - the woman was obviously drunk off her ass, so none of this would mean anything the next morning anyway - then turned back to the woman.

"Just for the sake of argument... when you're wrong and the Mavericks win the series... what then? What do I win?"

The woman thought for a moment. "Like I said, you get me."

"Yeah, well... I have hardwood floors - not carpets, I always eat out and I park on the street. What are you going to do for me?"

The woman, and at this point I have to say that aside from the complete bender she was on, was pretty cute, thought about it and shrugged. "Well, since Phoenix is going to kick your asses, it's a pretty safe bet, I suppose," she said. "You can do whatever the hell you want to."

At this there was a small roar of approval. I realized our conversation had become the focal point of the bar when a couple guys I'd never met tried to give me a high five. I shrugged them off and turned back to the woman.

"You're kind of cute, yourself," I admitted, much to the woman's delight. "In fact, at least one of your "punishments" doesn't sound too bad." At this, the woman blushed a little. "But... how do I know you won't welsh on the deal? When you lose?"

"I'm not a welsher," the woman protested, while a few of the men hooted at her discomfort. She turned and gave them the finger before turning back to me. "And Dallas is going to lose."

"You keep saying that, and I guess we'll just have to wait and see. But my question still stands.How do we know you won't chicken out? Everyone in this bar knows me. Who are you?"

The woman, almost pink with anger, reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She yanked it open and after a moment pulled out a business card and her driver's license. I looked at the driver's license quickly, just to verify that it was her. Unlike most, this was actually a good photo, and I imagine that when she wasn't completely plastered, the picture even resembled her.

It was the business card, however, that caught my attention:

Sandra Thomas

Assistant District Attorney

Interesting, I thought. I handed the driver's license back but kept the business card.

"So, I suppose you're not going to be sneaking back to Phoenix anytime soon," I admitted.

"And how do I know you won't find another bar?" she asked haughtily, or at least as arrogantly as someone who's having difficulty standing upright can be.

It was time for my own reveal and I reached into the inner pocket of my suit coat and pulled out my wallet.

"Here you go," I said. I handed her my own business card and watched for her reaction.

"Bastard," she said with a gleam in her eye when she was able to understand what was on my card.

Mark Hoffman

Public Defender

"Guilty as charged," I said with a smirk. "Although it seems kind of funny that I haven't run into you yet."