There she was again, just like always. Denise. A plain name for a remarkable woman. Sitting in the fifth row, a little off center of half-court. “Oh we got the steal. Hey Martell give me the ball I want to jam this one.” He did. He quickly glanced over to where she was seated. She hadn’t even seen. Too busy looking at her phone. Why did she never notice him?
“Hey Martell you know that hot chick who’s always at all our games, in the fifth row?”
“Oh, you mean Denise.”
“Wait, what? How do you know her name?”
“Doesn’t everybody? Word is that she, you know, gets around a lot. I can’t, uh, verify that claim, but, I heard that Jan has firsthand experience, you know what I mean? Hey Brad, where you goin’ man?”