“Hey! Hey! KAT! Wait up!”
James Johnson, jogging after his teammate as they exited the team plane, was gratified to see Karl-Anthony Towns slow down and turn around. “What’s up?”
“You’ve been in Minnesota longer than anybody else. Do you know anything about…casserole?”
Karl-Anthony immediately furrowed his brows in response to this query, which James took as a sign that Karl-Anthony had no idea what he was talking about. He was despairing that he would never find out more about this rumored Minnesotan delicacy until Karl-Anthony finally answered. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Do you know where I could…get some casserole?” James asked in a low voice to avoid being overheard.
“I don’t know what you’re whispering,” Karl-Anthony said, his voice a normal volume. “Casserole’s super common around here, everybody eats it. Well, I don’t really, but everybody else does.”
James’ stomach grumbled. He hadn’t been able to eat any of the food on the plane, obsessed as he was with having the allegedly delicious flavors of authentic Minnesotan casserole pleasuring his tongue. “So I can just get it at a restaurant.”
Karl-Anthony paused again before replying. “I don’t think any restaurants make it. It’s more like a church potluck thing. Or a thing you make at home.” Other teammates were walking by them giving them strange looks, which made James nervous. He had to get away from their accusatory glares or they would find out that he was on a mission for casserole. Without saying another word, he turned and began to walk away from the tired, straggling group of basketball players making their way to the team bus.
“Hey, where are you going?” Karl-Anthony asked.
James Johnson didn’t slow his stride across the tarmac, away from the rest of his teammates. He pulled a black ski mask out of his pocket and slipped it over his head. He checked that both his crowbar and his lock-picking materials were in his bag. They were. “I’m going to get some casserole.”