by R. R. Banks
Robert scratched the next name off his list as he placed the phone down, sighing dejectedly as his frustration started to grow. Can no one get me into that box? He thought to himself as he looked down the list.
He closed his eyes and cleared his head briefly before searching through the contacts on his cell phone to find the next person to call.
He set the phone down after the person on the other end didn’t answer, which was starting to prove to be the most common of things for him. It was a Friday afternoon and many of his colleagues were out on their yachts, in the mountains at their chalets, or at other points on the globe where they could relax and unwind without having to worry about their investments, businesses, or other serious matters. Robert was never good at relaxing, opting to spend time in a casino or on a date with a beautiful woman instead of vacationing to remote and exotic parts of the world.
He looked down at his list again as he continued to mumble under his breath in frustration. All the names were scratched out, leading him back to where he was when the day began with the time to kick off coming up quickly. He flipped through his contacts again and pressed send, placing the phone back up to his ear as it started to ring. After two short rings, Dillon picked up on the other end.
“Robert, what’s going on?” he asked in a calm and friendly tone. “Are you on your way into the stadium yet?”
Robert sighed softly before looking out the window at the beautiful scenery outside of his home, near the Casino de Monte Carlo. It was on the eighth story of an older, restored building, that had a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean Sea. “Dillon, I’m no closer to the football game than I was when we were sitting at the café yesterday,” he confessed, hoping his friend would have some more advice.
“Ouch,” replied Dillon. “I find it hard to believe that no one had a way to get into the box.”
“Me, too,” continued Robert. “And to be even more critical about this, no one could even get me into the stadium. It’s completely sold out.”
Dillon chuckled a bit on the other end of the phone call while Robert stared out at the Mediterranean.
“I don’t follow sports enough to understand the reasoning behind it being sold out,” stated Robert plainly, trying his best to hold back his frustrations.
“I still don’t understand how you, someone from England where they have a professional team every twenty miles, don’t follow football,” Dillon stated sarcastically while Robert tried to come up with a new plan without much time to fully form it. “Robert, just because the game is sold out doesn’t mean that it is at capacity,” continued Dillon, slowing his tone a bit and trying to get Robert focused. “I can think of several times where I’ve gotten into some event that was sold out just because I knew the right person at the gate.”
Robert blinked his eyes a bit and refocused them on the countertop in the kitchen while allowing what Dillon said to set in. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, just because it is sold out, doesn’t mean someone won’t let you in, and you can find a seat that was bought but wasn’t filled,” clarified Dillon. “Even though the seat was purchased, that doesn’t mean the person will show up to claim it. Perhaps a steward, gate attendant, or someone else involved with the game will know of someone not coming to the game and can let you have their seat for a certain price.”
“So, I’m going to have to pay off someone to get into the game?”
“Oh yeah,” said Dillon. “You’re going to have to grease a few people’s palms to get up to the box with Sulagna Patel, but I know you’re not lacking in terms of funds.”
Robert chuckled a bit as he walked out of his kitchen with the phone still against his ear to grab his jacket. “So then, I guess I’m going to have to do this the hard way.”
“I honestly figured it would come to this anyway,” replied Dillon. “I can’t think of many of your contacts that would have access to this stadium.”
“You’re probably right, but it was worth an attempt,” he stated with contempt as he grabbed his wallet and other belongings and walked toward the front door of his flat. “I will see you at the casino this evening. I will let you know how everything goes over drinks.”
“I’m sure we’re both going to need them,” continued Dillon.
Robert hung up the phone and placed it in his pants pocket as he put on his wool coat and walked toward the elevator and made his way toward the bottom floor. Robert didn’t waste any time as the doorman opened the glass door of his building and nodded toward him, making his way to the first taxi in the line and stepping into the backseat.
“Stade Louis II please,” he said in his British accent, forgetting that the bulk of the population spoke French as their only language. He paused briefly as the driver looked at him in the rear-view mirror, though not long as he stepped on the gas gently and took off.
Robert was not a fan of long car rides, preferring to travel by train or by airplane whenever possible. Though not someone who got motion sick, he was plagued by constant restlessness when he was in the backseat of a car, unable to walk or move about to keep his legs and mind occupied. Unfortunately for Robert, Monte Carlo and Fontvieille were on different ends of Monaco and nearly a forty-minute drive from each other. He tried to close his eyes as they drove down the road, opting not to look at the scenery of the area and instead relaxing a bit before arriving at the stadium.
As the taxi pulled up to the stadium, Robert opened his eyes from his brief sleep to notice the large crowd heading into the stadium. How am I going to get into the stadium like this, he thought to himself, not even considering how he would get to the luxury box of Sulagna Patel. He knew what was at stake though. Dillon made it clear he wouldn’t personally help fund Robert’s company unless they could make it into the Consortium. It was a large gamble, and one that Robert was slowly starting to regret making when he purchased the fledgling company.
The taxi stopped in front of the gate as Robert adjusted himself in the seat, fixing his jacket and pants while reaching behind him to grab his wallet. He pulled out several euros and handed it to the taxi driver, overpaying him but Robert didn’t have time to count money, and he figured the driver could use a large tip for the distance he drove. He opened the door to the cab and stepped out, looking out in awe at the large crowd as they slowly moved through the gates and toward their seats. He exhaled slowly as he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Dillon. “This crowd is the largest I think I have ever been a part of.”
He held the phone firmly in his right hand as he tried to find his first target, knowing that it would possibly take several conversations to get into the stadium. Robert looked around and noticed several police officers carrying someone away from the stadium for scalping tickets near one of the gates. “That’s unfortunate,” he whispered to himself, seeing a potential way into the stadium heading toward the back of a police car. Without thinking, Robert walked over to the police car and stopped, thinking to himself that if he purchased those tickets from the scalper now, he was just as guilty and the police would never have an easier opportunity to gather another victim. He sighed softly while nodding at the scalper, who shook his head in reply. Robert turned and walked toward a steward who was doing his best to usher people into the stadium.
“Sir!” exclaimed Robert, getting the attention of the steward as he tried to corral the many football fans. “Can you help me get into the stadium?” he asked bluntly, not wasting anytime with pleasantries or soft spoken discussions. “I really need to get in there.”
The steward looked at him with a confused look. “Do you not have a ticket?” he said in a very thick, French accent.
“No, the game is sold out,” he answered. “I really want to get in and see this game but there is not a ticket to buy.”
“Then I cannot help you if you do not have a ticket,” he answered rudely, turning to try and continue to move the people through the gates.
Robert stepped in fron
t of the steward again, gaining his attention as the steward started to become perturbed. “Sir, please. You have to know someone who isn’t coming, and I would be happy to pay you to get in.”
The steward continued to look annoyed as he stuck his hand out and pointed at a booth on the other end of the stadium. “Go to the will call window and see if they have any tickets there,” he answered rudely, giving Robert a sliver of hope.
“They hold tickets there for certain people who may have alerted them they are not coming.”
Robert’s eyes were opened wide as he finally received some great news. He patted the steward on the shoulder and thanked him before walking through the crowd as it slowly started to dwindle toward the will call window. The game was about to kick off as music bellowed over the loudspeakers with both teams walking out of the dressing room tunnels to stand on the pitch together.
The crowd outside of the stadium was thinning out with all the supporters having reached their seats as Robert made it up to the will call window. With the stadium starting to fill up and the teams reaching the pitch, there wasn’t anything remotely close to a line in front of the will call window, allowing Robert to walk straight up to the only attendant working. “Good afternoon,” he said with his thick, British accent.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may I be of assistance today?” replied the attendant, a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and, surprisingly to Robert, an equally thick British accent. Robert was stunned, standing in front of the window with his mouth agape as the familiar accent pierced his consciousness and surprised him. “Sir? Are you alright?”
“Yes!” shouted Robert as he stumbled to gather himself and focus on his objective. He exhaled a couple times before looking on at the beautiful young woman, studying how her hair framed her face with subtle curls and draped down the top of her back. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not used to hearing anyone speak in the King’s,” he said attempting to justify his stammering and awkward stare.
“It’s quite alright,” she replied politely. “Most people around here aren’t used to hearing it either,” she joked, catching Robert by surprise as she stood against her window with her hands folded together. “So, are you here to pick up a ticket?”
Robert shook his head subtly as he placed both of his hands on the ledge and leaned forward a bit toward the glass. “Actually, I don’t have a ticket,” he said softly, keeping his mouth closed before biting his lip and looking at the attendant with pleading eyes. “I was hoping there was something you could possibly do to help me get into the stadium.”
A few seconds of awkward silence was followed by a genuine smile from the attendant. “Perhaps,” she said softly. “Mr. Rodriguez, I’m terribly sorry about the struggles in your trip from Valencia today, but I am impressed that you were able to make it here in time for kick off,” she said loudly, confusing Robert for a bit as she reached into the drawer and pulled out a ticket. “Mr. Rodriguez, I hope you find our accommodations and hospitality to be second to none, and I implore you that if you have any issues, please do not hesitate to contact a steward or any other official.”
“Right,” stated Robert plainly, playing along with the will call attendant as she gave him his entrance into the stadium. He leaned forward and placed his mouth close to the glass so the attendant could hear him without him having to speak loudly. “Is there anything I owe you?” he asked softly.
The attendant grinned as she looked around the booth. “Sir, after you leave the stadium, make sure you return here so that I can give you your voucher for this evening,” she said confidently. “I would hate for you to not be taken care of in the best of manners.” she stated with a wink.
“I will make absolutely sure of it,” he replied. “Will you be here throughout the entire game? I have a feeling I will probably leave by half time.”
“Yes sir, I will be stationed here until the game has finished and the stadium has emptied,” she assured politely, smiling at Robert earnestly as he stepped away from the booth, not breaking eye contact with her until he turned toward the gate. He handed his ticket to the steward and walked through the turn-style to see the twenty-two players already commencing a battle of skill and wits on the pitch. The inside of the stadium was impressive, as the fans of AS Monaco created a white and red mosaic out of the clothes they were wearing, with each square section of the stadium filled with an alternate color, though one small patch of blue was located in one of the corners. Having studied a map of it at his home before making his way to the arena, he stood at the railing looking around the stadium,
Robert paused briefly while he examined the stadium, noticing the nine arches at the far end of the stadium, as well as the large boxes located directly above him. “There they are,” he said to himself as he finally found them. Looking around the area he saw three young women walking in front of him, catching his eye with their choice of clothing: red t-shirts, short white shorts, and their faces painted with red and white stripes. As he gazed at the three women, a thought went through Robert’s mind that put him in a state of disadvantage – he looked completely different than everyone there. With his wool jacket and khaki slacks, he looked more like the coach on the sideline than any of the fans in the stadium.
Here goes nothing, he thought, resigning himself to failure as he walked toward the escalator to start his progression toward the luxury suites. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Dillon, letting him know he was able to make it into the stadium but now his new journey had begun.
The escalator rose slowly through the stadium as it climbed to its apex, allowing Robert to reach the terrace level where the luxury suites resided. He breathed slowly as he gripped the railing with the stairs slowly rising up to the appropriate level. The screams from the stadium were still audible through the concrete stands. Finally making it to the top Robert stepped off the metal stair and onto the concrete ground, releasing his grip as he started to walk toward the luxury boxes. He walked confidently toward the suites without having much of a clue what his next move was. He knew he’d have to negotiate his way into the suite, though after his first encounter with the steward outside the stadium, he was worried over how his fortunes would fare.
As he wandered around the terrace level, Robert looked around for an official or steward to potentially help him get into the luxury suites. Fortunately, many of the luxury boxes were semi-private, making it possible to wander from one to another through a common hallway. He walked up to the door to find a steward standing there, guarding the door and making sure the luxury suites stayed remotely private. “Sir, how are you not watching this game?” playfully asked Robert as he walked up to the steward, engaging him in conversation “Are they purposefully keeping you from this match of titans?” he continued, becoming a bit awkward to the frustrated steward.
“You don’t have much of a clue about this sport, do you?” bluntly asked the steward, seeing through Robert’s fake demeanor and appreciation for the sport.
“None at all,” answered Robert. “I’m here for another purpose. You see, I need to get in that hallway so that I can find someone to talk about a business transaction while they watch the game. I have absolutely zero interest in being in this stadium longer than I have to be.”
The steward grinned while he stretched out his hand. “Who are you looking for?” he asked as Robert placed one hundred Euros in his hand.
“Indian woman named Sulagna Patel,” he replied. “She’s supposedly in one of these boxes.”
The steward grinned as he placed the money in his pocket. “Third booth when you walk in,” he replied. “You should not have a hard time finding her.”
With a smile on his face, Robert passed the steward and headed into the hallway that led to Sulagna Patel’s luxury suite. The suites were not very impressive, but offered several amenities not available in the general seating area. The seats were larger and padded, and a small bar with several servants to provide the guests with food and beverages. As he walked
past the first two suites, he noticed that no doors separated them from the hallway, only an open stairway that led down to the seats and a small landing at the back for a waiter’s quarter.
He made it to the third booth and started examining the people around the area. There were three levels of seating with three chairs on each side of the aisle with the bottom row positioned right in front of a glass wall. The view from the booth was positioned between the halfway mark on the field and the eighteen-yard box on the left side of the stadium, which was currently AS Monaco’s goal.
Eighteen seats, Robert thought to himself as he examined the room, looking for his target before moving in. He had come so far in such a short time, he wanted to ensure he had a plan in place to achieve success. With a soft exhale, he looked over to notice how only half the booth was full, with Sulagna Patel sitting in the front row on the right with an empty seat on her left, but a very large man seated to her right. Seated behind her were two more large men in suits, lending to the idea they were her personal security detail which complicated things. To the left of the aisle sat a young lady in the center with a young man beside her, both of which Robert didn’t know. Behind them were two older men, both in suits, but again, Robert couldn’t make out who they were.
With another soft exhale, Robert knew what he needed to do and moved forward into the luxury suite and onto the far aisle, walking down the stairs quickly to sit in the seat beside Sulagna before her security detail could stop him. “I’m only here for five minutes; I swear!” pleaded Robert as he looked back at the two large men behind him and the even larger man beside Sulagna. “I promise all of you, I mean you no harm and only want to talk to Ms. Patel for a couple of minutes.”