Think Twice

The other man was enormous — six nine, maybe six ten, and two hundred seventy pounds minimum. He wore an Oklahoma State basketball uniform. Myron remembered him. Good rebounder, good defender, good three-point jumper for a guy his size.

“Spark Konners,” Myron said. “With a K.”

“Correct.”

Myron looked over at Win. “Spark worked as an assistant coach under Greg in Milwaukee.”

“Again correct. What else do you know about him?”

“He never made it to the NBA — I think maybe Spark played a year or two in Italy or Spain — but I remember Greg saying the kid was smart. Had a big future in coaching. So Bo is...?”

“Brian Konners,” Win said. “Spark’s younger brother. Esperanza did a background check. There is no record of Bo or Brian anywhere over the past five years — no credit cards, no bank accounts, nothing.”

“What the hell, Win?”

“It is perplexing.”

“So maybe Bo and Greg didn’t meet online by chance.”

“Seems unlikely.”

“They met through Greg’s assistant coach Spark Konners.” Myron looked up. “I wonder whether Spark invited his brother to that game in Phoenix. That’s probably where Bo-Brian and Greg met.”

“Could be.”

“We need to talk to Spark.”

“We do indeed.”

Myron thought about it. “After Greg quit coaching, Milwaukee cleaned house, so I know Spark isn’t working there anymore.”

“Esperanza already tracked him down. Spark Konners is plying his trade as an assistant coach at Amherst College.”

“Big step down.” Myron made a face. “Isn’t Amherst a Division 3 school?”

“It’s hard to stay on top.”

“We have to talk to him.”

Win smiled. “Remember I said that Esperanza came up with a lead?”

“And you came up with an inspired idea off it. I remember.”

“Spark Konners just arrived in the lobby. He’s on his way up.”

“He’s here? Wait, how?”

“I sent a plane for him.”

“And he got on just like that?”

“He may be under the impression that the NBA is creating a franchise in Las Vegas and that he may be in line to coach for them.”

Myron stared at Win. “Wow.”

“Right? So the impetuous owner of this new franchise sent a plane for him.”

“You’re the owner?”

“The impetuous owner,” Win corrected. Then: “I always wanted to own a basketball franchise.”

“You don’t like pro basketball.”

“Too much fouling,” Win said. “Too many time-outs. It’s so boring after a while. You know what would make the game more exciting?”

“You being one of the teams’ impetuous owners?”

“Yes, that, but also—” The doorbell sounded. “He’s here. I’ll tell you my ideas later.”

“Can’t wait.”

Win called out, “Ladies.”

Three modelesque women appeared from the other room. They all worked the same look — shiny, sleek, jet-black hair perfectly transitioning to shiny, sleek, jet-black dresses. They pouted and strutted in perfect, confident unison, as though they’d rehearsed this.

“Why are they here?” Myron asked.

“For appearances.”

“I’m not following.”

“They’re all hot social media influencers with huge followings. And you know who would hang out with hot social media influencers with huge followings?”

Myron saw where this was going. “An impetuous owner?”

Win smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

When Win opened the door, Spark filled the doorway like a solar eclipse. The huge man had to bend his way into the room. He gave Win a firm handshake.

“Okay, ladies, time to go,” Win said. “Let the boys have some space to talk.”

The influencers tee-heed and filed out, giving Spark Konners little waves as they did. Spark waved back with an unsure smile on his face. He wore an ill-fitted dark blue suit with a dark blue tie that was too short on him.

Win introduced himself to the big man. Spark nodded, smiled, and nervously wrung his hands. Perspiration dotted his brow.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Win said to him.

“Thank you for sending the plane. Boy, that was a treat.”

“Was everything on board to your liking?”

“It was great, yeah. I never flew private before. Thank you again.”

“It was my pleasure,” Win said. He spread his arm to where Myron now stood. “Do you know Myron Bolitar?”

Spark started toward him. “We’ve never met, but my old boss really admired you, Mr. Bolitar.”

“Call me Myron.”

Myron shook Spark’s gigantic hand. It was like shaking hands with a throw pillow. “And Greg spoke highly of you too,” Myron said.

“Which is why you’re here,” Win said. “Let me just give you some quick background before I leave you two alone. The NBA is hoping to open a Las Vegas franchise. I’ll be the majority owner. Myron will be the team’s president and general manager. We are now in the process of interviewing coaching candidates.” Win looked toward Myron. “Did I forget anything?”

“Not that I can think of,” Myron said.

“Then I’ll leave you two to it. I promised the influencers I’d take them clubbing.”

When Win first left the room, both Myron and Spark just stood there. The room felt suddenly quiet and empty without Win. Win belonged in a room like this. Myron and Spark didn’t.

“Have a seat,” Myron said.

He did. Myron sat where Win had left the file with the photograph. Myron opened it and saw other sheets of paper. “Your résumé is impressive,” Myron said.