THEY DIDN’T LINGER in the concierge lounge very long. They nodded to the lady at the desk—who didn’t ask them for a room number and seemed decidedly uninterested in their presence—grabbed two sodas, and headed for room 1607.
There was no one around, so Susan Carol slid the key card into the door. The green light came on and they pushed their way into the room.
“Anybody here?” Susan Carol asked.
There was no response and they walked into the room, which had two double beds in it, one of them made, the other unmade.
“I had a sudden fear that he might be rooming with someone,” Susan Carol said.
“What would you have done if someone had answered?” he said.
She smiled. “I have no idea. Let’s check this place out fast and get out of here. We need to go downstairs, get another key, and get this one back to Jerry.”
“Another key?”
“We have to give this one back to him, right?” she said. “We don’t know how long any of this is going to take, or if we’re going to need to come back. We need a key of our own.”
“You know, you’re starting to worry me, Susan Carol. Lying, breaking and entering, searching people’s rooms …”
“We’re not really breaking … just entering. Now shut up and look.”
They went to work. Susan Carol took the bedside table and Stevie put his soda down on the corner of the desk and began going through a pile of papers. There were statistics sheets and media guides for Minnesota State and St. Joe’s. There was a notebook and a room service menu. Beneath the room service menu was a stack of papers, including one that said “MSU Itinerary for Final Four Weekend” on it. Stevie looked through it quickly and noticed that the Purple Tide was scheduled to fly home Tuesday morning and arrive in time for a “national championship victory celebration—12 noon—Heavenly Coffee Field House.” He remembered reading a story about many MSU alumni being upset that the name of C. W. Whitaker, the first president of the school, had been taken off the field house when the coffee company offered $3 million a year to get its name on the building.
He snorted at the planned victory celebration and was starting to move on to the next piece of paper on the pile when there was a knock on the door. Stevie froze. It couldn’t be Jerry, could it? Susan Carol put a finger to her lips to indicate that he shouldn’t say anything. There was another knock. “Go away, go away,” Stevie hissed under his breath.
They heard a key go into the slot. Stevie felt himself panicking. What should they do? Hide? Where? He made a dive for behind the bed, knocking a sheaf of paper onto the floor. Then he heard a voice from outside say, “Housekeeping.”
Susan Carol bolted toward the door. “Sorry,” she said as a maid poked her head inside the room. “We didn’t hear you knock, I guess. We’ll be out of here in just a few minutes.”
Stevie couldn’t really see the maid’s face, but he heard her say, “Oh, okay. Sorry. I’ll come back.”
She pulled the door shut and Susan Carol bolted it. Stevie sat down on the bed. He was pouring sweat all of a sudden.
“That was terrifying,” he said.
She sat down next to him. He noticed her face was drained of color. “I know,” she said. She put her hand on his hand, which made him feel good but also made him sweat even more. “Let’s find this thing and get out of here.”
They started to pick up the papers he’d knocked to the floor, and there it was: “Rooming List, Minnesota State Purple Tide, April 1–5.”
“Got it!” he said. He put a finger at the top and worked his way down to the G’s. “Here it is,” he said, “Graber, Alan Jr.—room 4101.”
“All the way at the top,” she said. “Figures. See who he’s rooming with.”
Stevie continued down the page. There wasn’t another 4101. He went through the list again to be sure. As he did, something caught his eye. Tom Richards, another of the seniors, was in 4103, and he couldn’t find anyone else in there. He checked on the other two seniors—Marlin Bennett and Tammu Abate—and saw they had single rooms, too.
“All the seniors are in singles,” he said. “And they’re all at that end of the hall.”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s get out of here before the maid comes back.”
Stevie quickly tried to rearrange the desk to approximate the way he had found it. He wasn’t sure where the rooming list had been, but it had been near the bottom of the pile, so he put it back there.
“Don’t forget your soda,” Susan Carol said. Then, poking their heads out the door to make sure no one was around, they headed back down the hallway.
“What now?” he asked.
“First we get a duplicate key. Then we give this one back to Jerry and then we go try to find Chip.”
“We’ll have to tell Jerry why we aren’t going to hang around to hear the show.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll think of an excuse before we get there.”
They took the elevator back down to the first floor, making several interminable stops for MSU fans. Stevie was beginning to think the people in purple and white were like those furry little animals on Star Trek called Tribbles, which reproduced every few minutes until the Enterprise was overrun with them. They were everywhere.
They finally made it back to the lobby. Amazingly, the area around the front desk was quiet. Susan Carol chose a middle-aged man with a small black mustache as her next victim.
“May I help you, young lady?” he said as the two of them walked up.
“Oh yes, I hope so,” she said. “We’re in room 1607 and our key isn’t working.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. She had been holding the key out, and he took it and slid it across the counter and into some kind of garbage can beneath the desk. Seeing the key disappear unnerved Stevie. What if he didn’t give them a new one?
“Last name?” he asked
“Ventura,” she said. “My dad’s name is Jerry.” She leaned forward and spoke in a whisper as if she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was about to tell the man, whose name tag said he was Vincent DeFriest—Brooklyn, N.Y. “We’re with the Minnesota State team. I think we’re listed separately from the other guests.”
“You are,” Mr. DeFriest said. “Here you are.”
He went over to a key machine, punched some buttons, and produced a new key card. He handed it to Susan Carol, and Stevie felt his heart start up again.
“Anything else I can help you with, Miss Ventura?” he asked.
“Won’t I need a new card for my dad?” she asked.
“Oh yes, of course you will. New code and all. I’m sorry.” He punched buttons on the machine again and produced a second key.
“Thank you so much,” she said with her best Southern manners.
Stevie thought he saw Mr. DeFriest turn just a tad pink. “You are very welcome,” he said.
They headed back to the escalator. Stevie had come up with an excuse for Jerry. “Let’s tell Jerry we just saw our dad and he wants us to go with him to Bible study class,” he said.
She gave him a look to see if he was being sarcastic.
He wasn’t. “He can’t question something like that,” he said.
“You’re right,” she said.
The two hosts were at the table, wearing headsets, when they got back to the KFPT broadcast position. Susan Carol handed Jerry the key, held up her soda, and said, “Thanks, Jerry, you saved us from a long wait in line.”
Jerry gave her a big smile, then swept his hand in the direction of the two hosts, tapping one on the shoulder to get his attention. The guy glanced up with an annoyed look on his face. When he saw Susan Carol standing in front of him, the look was replaced by a smile and he pulled off his headset.
“Mike, this is the girl, um, I mean, these are the kids I was telling you about,” Jerry said.
Mike put out a hand to Susan Carol. “Mike Lombardo, voice of the Purple Tide, young lady, nice to meet you.” He turned to his partner, who had also pulled off his headset. “This is my color commentator, Trey Woods.”
Stevie recognized the name. Trey Woods had played for Minnesota State in the eighties. The reason he knew that was because Chip Graber had broken his all-time scoring record at the school earlier in the season. Woods also shook hands with Susan Carol. She turned to Stevie, who was beginning to feel invisible, and said, “This is my brother, Steve.”
“Nice to meet you, kid,” Mike Lombardo said as Stevie came close enough so they could shake hands. Trey Woods also offered his hand—which was huge—but couldn’t seem to find anything to say to him.
“So, Jerry tells me you kids are big Purple Tide fans,” Lombardo said.
“Absolutely,” Susan Carol said. “We can’t wait for tonight.”
She was doing the big-smile bit again.
“Well, that’s great. Jerry said you wanted to hang around and watch us do the show. We’re on in about ten minutes and …”
Susan Carol was now shaking her head as if a truly awful thing had just happened. “We really would love to watch you do the show, but our dad just reminded us that we promised to go to Bible study with him.”
“Bible study?” Trey Woods said. “Good for you. Praise the Lord in all ways at all times.”
Mike Lombardo didn’t seem nearly as thrilled about their plans for the morning. “You kids big God-squadders or something?” he asked.
Stevie noticed Trey Woods visibly flinch.
“I guess you could say that,” Susan Carol said. “My dad is a minister.”
“Oh, I see,” Lombardo said, clearly a little embarrassed.
“A minister,” Trey Woods said. “I’m a minister, too.”
Now it was Lombardo’s turn to flinch.
“Really?” said Susan Carol.
“Oh yes,” Woods said. “I was ordained online last year. I’m a minister of the Church of Righteous-Thinking Athletes.” He leaned toward Susan Carol. “Someday you and I will pray together.” He didn’t make the same offer to Stevie. Hallelujah for that, Stevie thought.
“Praise the Lord,” Susan Carol answered, her smile beginning to waver.
“Five minutes to air,” Jerry Ventura said—four of the sweetest words Stevie had ever heard.
Susan Carol pumped Jerry’s hand. “Thanks again, Jerry. It was great to meet all you guys. Please be sure to bring home a Purple Tide victory tonight, okay?”
“We’ll do the best we can,” Lombardo said.
“Praise the Lord,” Trey Woods said, clasping both of Susan Carol’s hands in his massive paws. “I hope we meet again, young lady.”
“Oh gee, me too,” Susan Carol said, appearing just a bit unnerved.
Stevie was now firmly convinced the guy was an out-and-out weirdo and decided he would have thought that even if he hadn’t been ordained online. He waved halfheartedly and turned away, hoping Susan Carol would follow. She appeared to be having a little bit of trouble extricating herself from Trey Woods’s grip. “Come on, Susan Carol. Dad’s waiting,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said after they were away. “He was creepy.”
Their new key whisked them by security one more time. Once on the elevator, Susan Carol pressed the button for the forty-first floor. Stevie felt his heart starting to race again.
“You ready?” he said to Susan Carol as the elevator shot upward.
“Ready,” she said. “But we aren’t there yet. There could be security on the floor.”
“Or he might not be there right now,” Stevie said.
“That’s not a problem,” she said, holding up the magic key. “We can come back.”
They were alone on the elevator all the way up, a pleasant surprise. There was no sign of security when the elevator doors opened on 41, which was an even more pleasant surprise.
“So far, so good,” Susan Carol said.
They got off the elevator and glanced around—no one in sight. They followed the sign pointing to rooms 4101 through 4115. Two-thirds of the way down, the hallway veered to the right. Stevie was thinking about what their opening line would be when they got to Graber’s door, when he heard a voice say, “Hold on there, kids, where do you think you’re going?”
He looked up and saw a security guard, who had been sitting in a chair just around the corner. He stood up to a height that Stevie estimated to be at least six foot eight and blocked them from going any farther. Peering around him, Stevie could see the door to 4101. They were so close.… But, looking at the giant in their path, still so far.
As usual, Susan Carol was cool as could be.
“Oh, hey,” she said. “We’re just going to see Chip.”
The guard narrowed his eyes, looked down at Susan Carol without even the hint of a smile, and said, “There’s no visitors allowed up here. Players and coaches only on this end of the floor. You should have been stopped getting off the elevator. I don’t know where my partner is.” He reached for a walkie-talkie in his pocket.
“Hang on there, buddy, don’t get all bent out of shape,” Stevie said, suddenly emboldened for reasons he could not have explained if asked. “Chip’s my cousin, he’s in room 4101, and he’s expecting to see me before the team leaves for the game. He’ll be pretty pissed off if he finds out you wouldn’t let us get in to see him.”
He felt very adult saying “pissed off.” The guard gave him a look, too, but it was different from the one he had given Susan Carol. There was just a hint of doubt in his eyes. Or maybe it was just the angle, since his eyes were so much higher up than Stevie’s. “And who is she?” he said, pointing at Susan Carol.
Before Stevie could stammer out an answer, Susan Carol said, “I’m his girlfriend.”
The giant looked at Susan Carol, then looked at Stevie. “You like ’em short, huh, kid?” he said to her.
Stevie started to say something, but Susan Carol gave him a look that made him think twice. “Okay, you say Chip’s expecting you,” the guard said. “Well, he didn’t say anything to me about it and the coaches said no guests—especially girls.”
Stevie’s heart sank. They were going to be turned away five yards from Chip Graber’s door.
“Tell you what, though,” the giant went on, “we’ll go knock on Chip’s door. You know his room number, so I guess it’s possible you’re telling the truth. We’ll just go find out. But I’ll tell you this much: if you’re lying, I’m calling the cops and you’re going to be arrested for trespassing.”
Stevie didn’t think they could be arrested for trespassing in a hotel, but since they weren’t guests, maybe they could be. At the very least, they were going to be in a heap of trouble. He wondered if perhaps they should run while they still had a chance to escape. He was mulling all this over when he heard Susan Carol say, “And when Chip confirms our story, I’m sure you’ll apologize to us, won’t you?”
What was she doing? Why in the world would Chip confirm their story?
The giant and Susan Carol were both walking toward the door. There was no escape now. He squared his shoulders and caught up to them just as the giant was ringing the doorbell. Stevie couldn’t ever remember seeing a hotel room that had a doorbell—not that he had seen that many. For a moment there was no answer. The giant had seemed pretty certain that Graber was in the room, but maybe he was wrong. Then Stevie heard footsteps coming in the direction of the door. He was suddenly aware that he was drenched in sweat. He glanced at Susan Carol. If she was nervous or scared, it didn’t show. The door opened and Chip Graber, dressed in a white T-shirt that said MINNESOTA STATE, BIG TEN CHAMPIONS, a pair of purple sweatpants, and socks, stood staring at the three of them with what seemed to Stevie to be a very annoyed look.
“What’s up?” he said to the guard, glancing first at Susan Carol, then at Stevie.
“These kids claim they’re expected,” the giant said. He pointed at Stevie. “This your cousin?”
Graber started to open his mouth but before he could say anything, Stevie jumped in. “Sorry we’re late, Chip. Professor Whiting was giving us trouble just like you said he would.”
The bored, annoyed look on Graber’s face disappeared. He looked at Stevie, his eyes now a question mark. “Whiting?” he said. “Whiting gave you trouble?”
“Sure did,” Stevie said. “Just like yesterday. Well, you know what a pain he can be.…”
Graber was clearly confused. A couple of seconds passed before he said anything. Each second felt like an hour to Stevie.
“Mike, I’m sorry,” Graber finally said. “I shoulda told you my cousin was coming up. My bad, man.”
Mike the Giant’s face softened a little bit. “Chip, I thought you guys weren’t supposed to have anybody …”
“Yeah, I know, Mike, but come on, it’s my cousin. I haven’t seen him since Christmas. It’s all right, he’s a good kid.” He playfully pushed Stevie’s shoulder. “He’s a pain sometimes, but I told him he could come up for a few minutes.”
Mike nodded. “Okay then. But don’t let them stay too long. The schedule says you guys have a walk-through in the ballroom at noon.”
“I know, Mike. Thanks.”
Clearly baffled and disappointed, Mike turned to walk away. “No need to apologize,” Stevie said. Before Mike could respond, Susan Carol shoved him hard from behind, pushing him into the room. Chip Graber had opened the door all the way, and Stevie almost fell on his face.
“What is it with boys?” she said. “You always have to have the last word.”
“You were the one who brought up apologizing,” he said, getting the last word.
Chip Graber closed the door and looked them up and down again. “Okay, you guys had better have a damn good explanation for what just happened.”
They followed him into a large living room with a panoramic view of downtown New Orleans, all the way up to the Superdome and beyond. The TV was turned on and—surprise—there was Vitale, waving his arms. Stevie wondered if he ever slept.
Graber clicked off the TV, sat down on one of the couches, and pointed to the two armchairs. Susan Carol sat in one, Stevie the other. Stevie was suddenly very thirsty and was shocked to notice he was still holding a can of soda. It had been a long, weird morning.…
“Okay, I’m going to give you guys about two minutes to tell me what the hell this is about and then I’m going to call Mike back in here and tell him you’re frauds,” he said. “So talk fast.”
“The first thing you need to know is that we want to help you,” Susan Carol said. “The second thing you need to know is we appreciate you backing us up out there. The third thing you need to know is if you do call Mike back in here, you’ll have to explain to him why you said Stevie was your cousin.”
If that thought bothered Graber at all, it didn’t show.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Start by telling me who you are. Then tell me how the hell you got up here.”
“My name is Stevie Thomas and this is Susan Carol Anderson.”
“Keep going.”
“We won’t bore you with how we got up here,” Susan Carol said, picking up the story. “We’re in New Orleans because we won the U.S. Basketball Writers Association writing contest for kids.”
“Reporters?” he said. “Kid reporters? Wait, you came up here to get a scoop? On the day of the game? You’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding, right?”
Susan Carol leaned forward. “Chip, it was a complete accident, but we overheard your conversation with Professor Whiting yesterday, and we want to try to help you.”
“What conversation?” he said abruptly.
Stevie jumped in. “You had just arrived for practice. You and Whiting walked into the loading dock area to talk. We were there. We heard everything he said to you.”
Chip Graber’s face drained of all color. There was a long pause before he said anything. “Look, whatever you think you heard, you got it wrong,” he said finally. “Professor Whiting, he and I, we were just joking around. That was all it was.”
Susan Carol’s voice was very soft now. “Chip, that didn’t sound like a joke. It sounded like he was threatening you and your father. You need help. Heck, we need help. We couldn’t hear that conversation and do nothing. So we came to you.…”
Chip stood up, and Stevie thought he was going to take them back to Mike. “Start at the beginning,” he said. “How much do you know?”