I’m greeted by a young man named Magnum Shott, one of Tony’s friends I’ve met before: tall at six-five, iron-muscular, brown hair, almost almond-colored eyes, thick neck, wide-ass shoulders, and truck-like chest. His beautiful grin can lead him to high-paying jobs in the model industry, but Mag has chosen football as a career, a defenseman for Pittsburgh Molten. He’s wealthy and drives a Bentley around Pittsburgh, likes to be showy, and flirts with anyone on two legs, men and women. He has the reputation of having a tree between his legs, much charm, and easy to talk to.
Some sports magazines actually call him, “The smooth player, on and off the field.”
I’ve never had my doubts about the comment each and every time I see the man again. I look up into Mag’s eyes, fall a touch.
He leans o
