CC5; PreyedMantis
Posted: Mon Mar 23, 2020 11:49 am
Part Five of the Caleca Chronicles
(Continued from CC4; Sinister Ambitions)
"Will, how the hell you been?"
After walking out of Dr. Kocherschemltz’s office two days ago with the knowledge someone within the Brewster had deliberately stunted Mitch Dalrymple's play on the field, Vic had brainstormed all the possible paths to investigate. To start, he knew he needed to clear Madison of any participation in the matter. Their involvement and gain from such a tactic just didn't make any sense to him. So, he tracked down the man who both brought Dalrymple to Madison and, subsequently, traded him away -- former Madison General Manager, Will Gibson.
"Vic? Vic Caleca?"
"Sure is, my man. I was hoping you were still using this number. What have you been up to?"
"Still slaving away in medical school. Wait, you're not calling, hoping I have some free time to drive one of those damn tow trucks for your idiot boss, are you?" Will laughed.
"Ha, no. I told that cockroach to shove it after this last season. Landed in California as a, err, consultant," Vic tossed his free hand up in frustration. He had worked out how he was going to breach the topic in his mind several times, but, now that the time was here, none of his prepared words made sense. Finally, he just decided to get straight to the point. "Will, do you remember Mitch Dalrymple?"
"What the hell, Vic? Of course."
Vic took a deep breath. "Do you happen to know anything about why his production fell off a cliff after you traded him to Vegas?"
The other end of the line went silent.
"Will, you there?"
"I'm here," Will paused for a several moments. "Vic, I don't think this is something you want to get mixed up with."
Mixed up with? The words bounced around in Vic's mind. He spent the last four seasons covering up pig shit for his boss in Chicago. He'd been mixed up in too many things to recall. Not much could get to him any more. "What are you talking about?"
"Geez, Vic," Will's voice got louder. "All I ever wanted to do was lead a team in the Brewster. It was a dream come true for me in Madison, but that son-of-a-bitch in ..."
"In where?" Vic's voice raised to meet Will's. "What the hell are you trying to tell me?"
"You think I'd trade Mons Fucking Raider away and pay his god-damn contract, too?" Will's voice cracked. "They dug up some shit about my family, Vic. They blackmailed the shit out of me."
"Are you saying Edmonton ... ?"
"Of course, fucking Edmonton," Will screamed into the phone. "That Robillard bastard said I had to find a way to trade Dalrymple to Vegas -- said Vegas would want him, because, and he guaranteed me this, Dalrymple would be a beast to start the 2040 season. And he was, Vic! How'd he know that shit?"
Vic stood up from his office chair and paced the room. "So you know about the chip, then?"
"Chip? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean, chip?"
"You take care, Will," Vic replied. "I'm sorry about what he did to you."
(Continued from CC4; Sinister Ambitions)
"Will, how the hell you been?"
After walking out of Dr. Kocherschemltz’s office two days ago with the knowledge someone within the Brewster had deliberately stunted Mitch Dalrymple's play on the field, Vic had brainstormed all the possible paths to investigate. To start, he knew he needed to clear Madison of any participation in the matter. Their involvement and gain from such a tactic just didn't make any sense to him. So, he tracked down the man who both brought Dalrymple to Madison and, subsequently, traded him away -- former Madison General Manager, Will Gibson.
"Vic? Vic Caleca?"
"Sure is, my man. I was hoping you were still using this number. What have you been up to?"
"Still slaving away in medical school. Wait, you're not calling, hoping I have some free time to drive one of those damn tow trucks for your idiot boss, are you?" Will laughed.
"Ha, no. I told that cockroach to shove it after this last season. Landed in California as a, err, consultant," Vic tossed his free hand up in frustration. He had worked out how he was going to breach the topic in his mind several times, but, now that the time was here, none of his prepared words made sense. Finally, he just decided to get straight to the point. "Will, do you remember Mitch Dalrymple?"
"What the hell, Vic? Of course."
Vic took a deep breath. "Do you happen to know anything about why his production fell off a cliff after you traded him to Vegas?"
The other end of the line went silent.
"Will, you there?"
"I'm here," Will paused for a several moments. "Vic, I don't think this is something you want to get mixed up with."
Mixed up with? The words bounced around in Vic's mind. He spent the last four seasons covering up pig shit for his boss in Chicago. He'd been mixed up in too many things to recall. Not much could get to him any more. "What are you talking about?"
"Geez, Vic," Will's voice got louder. "All I ever wanted to do was lead a team in the Brewster. It was a dream come true for me in Madison, but that son-of-a-bitch in ..."
"In where?" Vic's voice raised to meet Will's. "What the hell are you trying to tell me?"
"You think I'd trade Mons Fucking Raider away and pay his god-damn contract, too?" Will's voice cracked. "They dug up some shit about my family, Vic. They blackmailed the shit out of me."
"Are you saying Edmonton ... ?"
"Of course, fucking Edmonton," Will screamed into the phone. "That Robillard bastard said I had to find a way to trade Dalrymple to Vegas -- said Vegas would want him, because, and he guaranteed me this, Dalrymple would be a beast to start the 2040 season. And he was, Vic! How'd he know that shit?"
Vic stood up from his office chair and paced the room. "So you know about the chip, then?"
"Chip? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean, chip?"
"You take care, Will," Vic replied. "I'm sorry about what he did to you."
... are you there isn’t a Boise connection here somewhere?