Survival Of The Fittest

"What? Oh, nah. It was just an idea I'd had. Aaron White out there, he used to hang with my brother. I don't know if he'd even remember me." Quincy had just thought that it might be worth a shot. After all, it'd impress the other two, make them think he had some real value to them. But now that they were interested in the proposal, he realised exactly how much he had to lose, should White not care. Both of them looked far to excited to just let the matter drop. "I'll see if I can get a message to him at half time, but don't get your hopes up too much."

Just then, the puck slammed into the plastic barrier in front of them. He looked round in surprise, only to see one of the players (Edwards?) slamming into the barrier shortly thereafter. The man was in some pain, and blood was pouring out of his mouth.

"What the fuck just happened? Tell me one of you guys knows what's going on here!"

((I would've posted sooner, but I've been incredibly busy.))

"Hey, if you can't, don't worry about it." Rudy smiled at Quince. "It would be at least a sweet added bonus."

Then it went south. Quince hadn't seen it, but Rudy had. It was partly a blur, because it went so fast, but somehow, the puck had slammed into that poor bastard's head. "Ooooh, that's gotta hurt. The puck hit 'em, Quince. Hard. It went by so fast that I can't even figure out how the hell it happened in the first place." There seemed to be a time out of sorts as the player was taken off the rink thanks to the injury and promptly replaced. "I was expecting someone to get hurt. At least my expectactions have been fufilled."

The game started back up again, Rudy chuckling. As far as he was concerned, shit just got real. "1-1, the score is, now. Plus an injury. This game is getting better by the second!"

With Edwards safely off the rink, the game was picking up pace again. Juarez got a good shot for the Wild in, and was quickly followed by Johnson pulling a rather haphazard shot that hit home more out of luck than any real skill. Still, it made the score 3-1 for The Wild, which wasn't going to make Mikaela very happy.

He felt a vibration in his pocket. Figures, what a time for his cell to go off. He made his excuses and pushed his way out to a less crowded area to answer it.

"Hello, Jones speaking. Mister Costelli! What can I do for you?" Quince didn't know Mister Costelli's first name. He'd never heard the man referred to as anything other than Mister Costelli. Somehow, you just knew that even in speech, the whole word was spelled out. He was not Mr Costelli. And God help the man who called him Costelli.

Quince had spoken to him a few times down at the gym. Mister Costelli had taken an interest in the young boxer. He listened to him talk about how he was never going to get anywhere in life. He listened to all his high school problems. And Mister Costelli promised him that one day, he would be all right. He was a good kid, a hard worker, who knew how the world worked. And if ever he needed a little money, then Mister Costelli would be able to find some work for him that paid well.

Quince knew that there was something wrong with the offer, but also knew that he had to be practical. Nobody wanted to offend Mister Costelli. And he knew that his father had worked for him in the past. In the end, if he didn't take the cash, then somebody would. Might as well be him.

"Hey, Quincy. Thanks for taking my call. Is this a good time?"

"I'm just at the Carlson Arena, Mister Costelli. Watching the Game with some friends."

"Oh, that's good. To be able to do that. Who's winning?"

"The Wild, 3-1"

"Now, Quincy, I hate to drag you away from the game, but you remember last week you were talking to me about your Prom coming up?"

Quince did remember. He really didn't want to miss out on prom. He knew that it would be his last real chance to be somebody, before declining into an aging blue collar bum. And he wanted a tux. He'd mentioned this to Mister Costelli after a sparring match, and Mister Costelli had developed a twinkle in his eye.

"I've got a friend. Frankie Bigelow. There's going to be a lot of stuff moving out of his warehouse tonight, but there's a few of his regulars down with this Mexican flu that's going about. He mentioned this problem to me, and I thought of you. You don't mind a little heavy lifting, do you, Quincy?"

"No, Sir, Mister Costelli."
"That's good. Do you know the warehouse, down by the riverside? Bigelow's Second Hand Furniture?"

"Yes, Mister Costelli."

"Get down there, Speak to Frankie. Tell him I sent you. Do a good job, and there'll be $200 in it for you. And maybe more work after that. I've told him you're a good worker, so don't let me down. Then, at the weekend, come speak to me again. I'll send you to a good tailor. He'll rent you a designer tux at a good rate, enough that you'll be able to show your date a good time with the change from your $200."

"Yes, Thank you Mister Costelli. I won't let you down, sir. I'll be there as quickly as I can."

"Good boy. Work hard. I'll see you at the weekend." The call terminated. Damn, that meant that he'd miss the rest of the game, not to mention disappoint Mikaela about the karaoke, and Rudy about meeting the team. Well, that he could do something about. He grabbed a napkin from the concession stand, and scribbled a hasty note on it.

He pushed his way back to Rudy and Mikaela and handed Rudy the note. "Guys, I've gotta go. Something came up. Don't worry, nothing bad, but something I gotta do now. Still, try and get that note to Aaron White, and hopefully he'll come out and say hi to you guys. Enjoy the rest of the match."

As he left the arena, he thought about how he still owed Rudy for helping him out with Mikaela, and how that had led him exactly nowhere. Mister Costelli was offering him a real opportunity for honest work here, which was more than he had expected. Maybe he was on the up and up after all? Still, it did leave him with one serious problem. Who was he going to take to the Prom?

((Quincy Jones cont'd in Popping the Question))

Mikaela's full attention was on the game. With the Gophers loosing she could feel a twinge of sadness that was slowly rising to anger.

They aren't trying hard enough. How irritating is that, even with Edwards gone.

She peeked around and noticed that Quince was gone. He had went to use his phone or something.

"I hope he gets back soon. I don‘t want him missing the Gophers turn around!"

Mikaela saw Quince coming back over, but his face seemed different. He was happy about something, but also disappointed. Did something happen to him?

"Guys, I've gotta go. Something came up. Don't worry, nothing bad, but something I gotta do now. Still, try and get that note to Aaron White, and hopefully he'll come out and say hi to you guys. Enjoy the rest of the match."

She stared at Quince as he left.

Your leaving me Quince?

Mikaela felt her heart fall into a pit in her chest. She mumbled to herself incoherently about things like friendship and at one point the prom. She then stood up, she could no longer concentrate on the game.

"Hey Rudy my phone is vibrating! I gotta go check it. If it's my mom then I won't be coming back since she'll rope me into coming home ASAP. Um could you get me an autograph if I don't come back?"

Mikaela got up and dashed out of the arena leaving only her half finished soda behind. Of course her phone wasn't vibrating, her phone is never on vibrate because Mikaela doesn't care if people are annoyed by her phone. In fact she enjoys the reaction. Mikaela's heart wasn't in it anymore. She was thinking of asking him from the moment she spotted him in the lobby. She wanted to ask before, but she didn't get around to it, but something told her she missed her window.

Later a door would fly open and a girl named Mikaela would run into her house her eyes filled with tears. Her mother would try to see what was wrong, but Mikaela would shoot her a dirty look and they would argue for about ten minutes before Mikaela ran into her room and stayed on the computer until about two in the morning. Before she went to bed a thought went into her head like a little voice of encouragement.

Remember your awesome, better then everyone else. It's Quince's loss that he didn't ask not yours.

(Mikaela Continued in Coulda Been a Contender)

After a while, Rudy simply lost interest, and left without a care.

((Rudy Leyton continued elsewhere.

Yeah, about bloody time. Why didn't I do this earlier. Gah.))