Changing the subject I explained my idea for infiltrating the frat party--he liked it. All we needed were some likely candidates to turn up at the gym.
For a Saturday it was quiet--Ray's memory told me that. To keep ourselves occupied Stuart wiped down and cleaned the benches while I attended to the locker room. There were the usual items of lost property; combs, meal boxes, supplement shakers--standard jock equipment.
One item proved interesting, a string vest with the letters UNLV emblazoned across its front, Las Vegas' nearest University. Seems these frat boys were locals. When I returned to the front desk I found someone waiting to be signed in, our first customer.
"You with the frat guys?"
"Yeah," he replied as he signed the book. A typical jock, standing shirtless, tattoos, heavy set, black shorts--definitely from the football team. He looked at me blankly, "Why?"
