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“Trak, I swear I am going to shoot you one day. I’ve been saying it for years, but I’m getting too old for that shit, and my trigger finger is itchy as hell,” said Gaspar. “What babies?”

“Two of the bison are pregnant, and Alvin is expecting with Tammy.”

“Well, please congratulate them for me. Are they registered anywhere? Should I buy them something specific for their dozen baby alligator eggs!” yelled Gaspar. Trak just stared at him, shrugging.

“Maybe they’d like matching Crocs for their kids. Get it,” smirked Code.

“I will beat the hell out of you,” said Gaspar. “How many eggs?”

“Eight.”

“Shit. Eight baby alligators. That’s dangerous, y’all.”

“They will find their way in the bayou,” said Trak. “They won’t stay with their parents for long. Do not worry. All will be well.”

“Sure. Sure, I won’t worry about baby bison and baby alligators. Why would I worry about that?” said Gaspar.

“You seem stressed. Perhaps you should attend one of Cait’s yoga and meditation classes. They’re quite helpful,” smiled Trak.

“Hey, wait a minute,” frowned Gaspar. “Didn’t Cait and Ashley do a joint class for the VA hospital? Cait taught meditative yoga, and then Ashley was able to get them to sleep and talk through their trauma.”

“They weren’t asleep,” said Antoine, “but I understand what you’re saying. Maybe we could get Cait to submit a proposal to the team, help them with the stress of Butch’s death. We won’t mention that she’s connected to us.”

“I think it’s worth a shot. Trak? I want you there with them. You seem to get a good sense of when someone is telling the truth. Bring Noah as well. If Butch’s ghost is there, he might be able to tell him what happened.”

“I’ll see if Trevon can help us. Maybe if he makes the suggestion, they’ll be less suspicious,” said Antoine.

“How are things going in Tucson?” he asked Mac and Gabe.

“Great, from what we hear. The house was falling apart around them, but it was all things that could be handled fairly quickly. The cosmetic stuff is happening now. The contractor understood the need to get Ed back into his own home,” said Mac.

“That’s good news, and we needed some good news. Trevon gave us tickets to the game tomorrow. None of the wives want to go, so we have ten altogether. I say we go and do some casual observing of the team. I want to see which players are actually protecting the QB and which ones are ignoring their position. I also want to see how that owner reacts to the plays and the game overall. There is something seriously fucked up here, and we’re going to find out who killed that man,” said Nine.

“I’m game,” said Tailor. “It’s been years since I’ve been to a game, and I could use a good dose of sweat and testosterone. Plus, I want some game food.”

“Same,” said Alec. “Nothing like a stadium hot dog loaded with onions, relish, mustard, and if they have it, chili.”

“You know how bad those things are for you, right?” said Sly.

“Yep. And I’m gonna eat five if I have the time. Five dogs loaded with everything and fries to go with it, loaded as well. If they’ve got popcorn I want popcorn, nachos, peanuts, and some of those red licorice string things. I’m in the mood for some serious junk food,” nodded Alec.

Tailor laughed, grinning at his best friend.

“Okay. Game tomorrow, and let’s see if we can’t get Cait, Ashley, Noah, and Trak into the locker room to help everyone out.”

CHAPTER TEN

Although football in New Orleans and the surrounding area was dominated by the New Orleans Saints and the LSU Tigers, the other colleges always drew big crowds as well. Tulane, Southern, and others entertained their alumni and visiting teams with hard-fought games, outrageous marching bands, and epic tailgating. You could walk through the parking lots and smell barbecue, gumbo, fried fish, and so much more. Tailgating was a sport in itself, and the people in the South knew how to do it right.

The Fire wasn’t even in their league. Literally. From the looks of the stadium, they were struggling to bring in fans and sell tickets, with prices for upper deck seats selling at only ten or fifteen dollars.

“Well, this is sad,” frowned Ghost.

“Damn, I had no idea they were struggling financially. Maybe all of this has something to do with Butch’s death,” said Nine.

They walked through the tunnel and toward the barrier between the fans and the players on the sidelines. Trevon turned and waved at the men, then went back to focusing on his warm-up.

“I smell hot dogs,” said Tailor.

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