“What do you mean, there are no seats? There are three flights a day to Boston. So what if there’s a convention this weekend? I only need one bloody seat on the plane.” “I’m sorry, Mr.…uhhh…Mr. Morgan.” The travel agent hesitated over Travis’s name. Travis held back a growl. The kid was obviously doing his best, but Travis had already called every other airline and his patience was long gone. “Actually, sir, there are two. Conventions, that is.” “Look, let me talk to your manager. This is ridiculous. There must be a charter or something available.” Damn. I should have booked weeks ago. The thought pounded in his head. This weekend was one of the few times he and the guys could get together during the season. Travis walked to the large window along the back wall of his office and slapped his palm against the cool glass. If it wasn’t for the fact that closing this last sale was so important and had taken so bloody long, he’d have had those tickets by now and been on his way to Boston and a championship basketball game.
