“What do you mean I am no longer the most popular French NBA center!?” Rudy yelled, slamming his fist on the desk in front of him.
“I’m sorry, Monsieur Gobert, I’m sorry!” whimpered a small, rat-faced man. “Everybody in France still loves you, sir. Very much, sir,” he placated.
“Remi, you will tell me who this new center is,” Rudy commanded, his fury replaced by a cold stoicism. However, his shoulders still shivered with rage as he glared at his advisor.
“Yes sir, of course,” Remi simpered. “His name is Joffrey Lauvergne. Just recently he was signed by the Nuggets, and he is making quite the impact, sir. The people of France are deeply infatuated with his rugged handsomeness.”
“Mon dieu,” Rudy whispered. “I thought that guy was happy playing in Europe. Never did I think he would come over here to infringe on my popularity. Honestly, I’m surprised he had the balls.”
Remi readjusted his glasses for the hundredth time. “What are we going to do, sir?”
A smile, or more accurately, a grimace, formed on Rudy’s lips. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m going to do. And when it has been done, I will again take my place as the most popular French NBA center, and we may never hear from that bastard Lauvergne ever again.”
“You are a genius, sir!” Remi gushed.
Rudy did not respond. Behind his waxen face, his brain devised and planned. Burning underneath it all was a searing flame of hatred, a flame that could only be extinguished by a dousing splash of revenge.