Phil was making a dent in his plate of nachos. But then… the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd, fans leaping to their feet.
Something big was happening.
The white sphere landed in his lap. Beyond unexpected. He wasn’t a sports fan either, but even he knew what he had. A baseball. A historic one.
He felt the sea of hands clawing at him, trying to rip the ball from his grasp. He saw the massive security guards in neon yellow closing in, expecting a negotiation.
Not so fast, Phil thought.
There was a fortune at stake.
The Weekday One Hundred 