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“I’m sure the next question won’t be as weird,” Ava says hopefully.
The Quiz Master reviews the submitted answers. The correct one turns out to be India.
“Oh, India,” we all say simultaneously.
Time for question number two.
What is the maximum weight for a javelin in the men’s Olympics?
“What?” Jasper blurts out. “Who the hell cares?”
The quiz master throws us a stern stink eye and there are several laughs from throughout the bar.
“Chill out, Jas,” I say.
“Doyouknow the answer to this, Leo?” he huffs.
“Of course, I don’t. Do any of the other teams?” I ask, scanning the room to check out the competition.
Ava points discreetly. “Hey, that table over there looks pretty happy. Bet they have the answer.”
She might be mocking us.Might.
Throwing her hands up as if in surrender, she shrugs. “Guys, don’t look so glum. You can’t expect to know everything about sports.”
Whoa. Did she really just say that? Does she have no idea that weareexpected to know everything about sports? We work forSports, Inc.,after all.
Whatever. With my sleeve, I wipe up the condensation ring left on the table by my beer, and brace myself for the next question, which I’m sure will be about something more familiar.
Question number three is announced.
In the sport of cricket, what is a ‘duck’?
What the fuck? What kind of sports questions are these? Has this quiz master dude never heard of baseball or basketball?
A duck? Another question we can’t answer. This is messed up.
“Why is he asking about cricket? We don’t play that in the U.S.” sighs Ethan.
Ignoring his question, Ava leans closer. “I thought you guys worked for the biggest sports magazine in the country. Why can’t you answer any of these questions?”
She did not just ask that.
“Because, Ava,” I answer, “these are not normal sports questions.”
“What?” she asks, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know. I mean, sports are sports. Ya know?”
Jasper downs the rest of his beer. “Dude,” he calls to the quiz master, “can you ask a normal sports question? Maybe about football? Even track and field will do,” he calls.
Glaring, Quiz Master slowly raises his mic to his lips. “Theseare‘normal’ sports, sir.”
“Oh, come on—” Jasper starts to say.
But the Man in Charge wants none of it. “Sir, I’m sorry if you are not enjoying trivia night, but please don’t spoil the fun of the other players.”
Jasper’s head snaps back on his shoulders and I wait for his next smart-assed remark. But he just waves his hand in surrender. Guess he doesn’t want to be too aggro in front of Ava, especially since she invited us to this fiasco.
I glance at Ethan, who has a shorter fuse than I’ve ever seen on any man. If he loses his shit, things will really not end well.
