Most were surprised at his taste in décor, but Scott was an old soul who liked the finer things—even if he couldn’t afford them. “You must be Mustapha! I’m Cody . . . how are you doing?” “Been better, dear sir, but nice to meet your acquaintance just the same.” They walked in the already open door to Scott’s warm and welcoming abode. Mustapha immediately complimented Scott on his taste in interior design, “Well done, Scott—you have a beautiful home.” “Thank you, but it’s not mine. I rent for now.” “No matter—I was speaking of your furniture and overall interior, not so much the home itself.” “I’m glad you like it, everything will be coming with me when I’m able to purchase my own home.” “Not to rush things, but can we get started? Where shall we sit?” Mustapha said in an anxious tone. “Let’s sit at the dining table—would anyone like a drink? I’ve got water, orange juice, tea, milk, and two beers left by friends when they came over for the fight last Friday.”
