AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was a lady in the ticket booth, eyes fixed on a computer screen. Chris could hear the roaring from the crowd inside and didn’t understand how people got so excited over people they didn’t know doing things.
He arrived at the front of the plexiglass. The woman didn’t look up. He tapped on it.
“Hello?”
She spun to face him and scooted her chair over.
“Can I help you?”
“I’d like a ticket please.”
She looked at him like he was insane. “It’s a sell-out. It’s almost over.”
“It sold out?”
“A month ago,” she continued like he truly was crazy.
He didn’t get it, but he just needed to get in there, find a security guard and get them to call Joq.
“I’ll be back,” he told her.
“Uh, okay?”
He took a few steps away and called Brendan.
It was about to ring out when Brendan’s muffled, “Yeah? Everything alright?” came down the line.
“Were you asleep? Sorry,” Chris said, eyes up on the expanse of concrete, the night lights.
“Must’ve fallen asleep, all good, you alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Do we have a box at the stadium?”
“Yeah, course. What do you want to go to?”
“The football.”
Brendan yawned, there was rustling like he was moving to get up. “Hang on,” he said and Chris heard his muffled “It’s Chris,” to Tegan before he came back on the line. “I need to get my laptop. I think it’s booked out, but of course you can use it. Hold up, did you say football?”
“Yeah, tonight’s game.”
“You want to go to the football. Tonight,” he was walking as he talked, and he sounded a lot more awake.
“Yeah, I’m here now, but they say it’s sold out.”
“Yeah, ‘cos it’s the bloody finals. Why do you want to go?”
Chris ran a hand through his hair and turned back to the building. He looked at the enormous flags with players on them. “I want to see Sydney play,” he glanced around. “Sydney? Sydney have two teams?”
“Sydney proper and Western Sydney,” Brendan replied. “And it’s not Sydney versus Western Sydney tonight, it’s Melbourne. And you want to see them play? It’s over isn’t it?”
There was another thunderous roar from the building.
“Not yet. Can you send me a ticket?”
“You don’t need a ticket. You own the bloody box, just tell them who you are, show your license and they’ll—”
“Awesome, thanks.”
