MAFIA FOOTBALL LEAGUE
A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON TRUE EVENTS
Written by: S. A. Seterpen
1-16-18
"Mr. Godswell..." a sleek secretary with perfect hair, black mini-skirt, and red nails peaked inside the door, "the fax you wanted to see just came through."
"That's excellent Veronica," he responded with a distracted tone. "Please bring it to me."
Her skirt hypnotically whisked as she walked around the large wooden desk and stood next to her boss. The 59-year-old, large browed and blond haired man leaned back in his chair after a symbolic knuckle cracking. Raising an eyebrow he grabbed the papers from his young and attractive assistant. Taking a heavy sigh, he licked his lips while flipping through the several page memo.
"Vonnie...babe...will you get Lewdluck on the phone please," Mr. Godswell requested.
"Yes sir," she responded while putting it on speaker.
After several hollow rings, a rushed voice answered, "...hello!"
"Hey...Tad," Mr. Godswell looked up at his secretary who was now sitting on the edge of the desk, "Gregor here...are we alone?"
"Oh...hold on..." there was whispering on the other end of the line for several seconds followed by a slamming door, "...we're good."
"Potential numbers for the championship just came in and it's scary if Minnesota and Jacksonville make it," Mr. Godswell proclaimed while brushing his hand through his hair.
"How Bad?" Mr. Lewdluck asked.
"The initial and conservative estimates are double-digit losses in the millions...and that's just in potential revenue," the concerned commissioner relayed the devastating news.
"Oh god..." the chief operating officer's voice trembled at the revelation, "...we've got to do something!"
"You're damn right we do!" Mr. Godswell put his hand on Veronica's knee. "I'm going to reach out to some of our contacts in Philly. I want you to speak to the officials who'll be in Foxburrow and make sure they understand how important it is that Brody plays in the championship game."
"I'll make sure it gets taken care..." Mr. Lewdluck assured him. "But...we can't have two referee influenced games...so what are you thinking?"
Gregor Godswell tapped Veronica on the hip and motioned for her to leave the room. Uncrossing her legs, she hopped down from the desk and slipped out the door while closing it behind her.
"I know a couple of guys who will be placing bets on Philadelphia," he started spitballing over the speakerphone. "They have access to the visiting team's itinerary...with a green light from me, I'm sure they'll come up with something clever!"
"Perfect," responded Mr. Lewdluck, "if you need anything just let me know."
"Will do..." he replied while hanging up.
After an anticipatory dial tone, and then multiple rings, a raspy voice answered, "Whoze 'dis?"
"It's God..." Gregor smiled, "did you already place your bets against Minnesota?"
"Yeaz..." the voice on the other line became suspicious, "You knowz I alwayz go Philly..."
"Well, my amigo...today we are mutual friends then!" Mr. Godswell leaned towards the phone. "How would you like to guarantee that bet..."
"Are youze axing what I think youze axing?" the voice responded in dirty-business form.
"There's a terrible flu going around Philadelphia this time of year," Mr. Godswell sat back and put his arms behind his head. "It would be quite awful if a few players from Minnesota happened to catch that bug!"
"I like wherez thiz iz goin'..." the voice on the phone responded with a gangster draw. "Say no mo'...I'll run some numbas' by my crew and seez what we can do!"
"Don't let me down," Mr. Godswell's voice grew stern. "I don't have to tell you what's at stake if Minnesota makes it to the championship..."
"Don't youz worry your pretty little head..." the voice on the other line became slightly irritated, "I knowz whatz at stake!"
"Good..." Gregor ran his hand through his hair, "call me if you run into any problems."
"Sure..." the man on the other line quickly hung up the phone.
Mr. Godswell blinked several times as he stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet. He took a short glass and tumbled two ice cubes inside it. Pouring in three inches of scotch he swirled the dark liquid around several times before taking a sharp sip. With a puckered lip swallow he made his way back to the desk.
He loosened his green and white striped tie while leaning back in the chair. Gregor sat and drank for several hours as afternoon crept into the night. Although it was time to go home, his job was never done. With his feet on the desk and a sufficient buzz, his secretary knocked on the door.
"Come in..." he slurred.
From the doorway, Veronica was about to tell him she was heading home. There was worry in his eyes and she sensed that. Without saying a word his beautiful assistant walked over to him and caressed the side of his face with her gentle fingers. He leaned into her gesture as his giant blue eyes looked up to hers. He almost fell over as she withdrew her hand and made her way back to the open door. Glancing back at him, she pushed the heavy wooden slab til it closed, then locked it.
TO BE CONTINUED...
