“Tell me, old sport...” The prince let loose another stream of air pollution. “How do you think you’d have played against Joe Montana or John Elway?” He asked the question as though it had never been asked before, as if rookie sports journalists all over the country hadn’t offered up the same query more times than Coop could remember.

Coop pretended to think it over, took another sip of scotch, then gave his customary answer. “Those guys were my idols. I only wish I’d had the opportunity. All I know is, no matter who I played against, I did my best.”

The prince recrossed his ankles. “It is my observation that too many quarterbacks are impatient. They don’t read the defense properly.”

Coop nodded, as if the prince were one of the great football analysts instead of an egotistical jerkoff who didn’t know shit.

He gestured toward Coop’s hand. “You have worn your Super Bowl Ring.”

Super Bowl rings weren’t known for their subtlety. The Stars latest was a gaudy, oversize son of a bitch with enough diamonds to outfit a high-society ball. Coop gazed down at his finger. “Beautiful, i’nt it?”

“Exquisite.”

Coop could practically see the guy salivating. “I’ll tell you what, Your Highness... I never let anybody try on my ring. I worked too damned hard to earn it, but for you... Aw, hell...” He pulled it off his finger. “You’re a man who understands the game the way most people don’t. See what it feels like to wear one of these.”

Coop didn’t bother getting up from his chair, but merely held it out, which forced the prince to scramble from the chaise to get his greedy hands on it.

The prince shoved the ring on his stubby finger. It immediately flopped to the side. He twisted it back into place and held it there as if he never intended to let it go. “A superb piece.” He took his time admiring it, even wandering toward the glass-topped dinner table where the light was better. Finally, he said, “Some beautiful ladies will be arriving soon. You’ll stay and enjoy them with me.”

Coop had the opening he’d been both waiting for and dreading. “I can’t pass up an invitation like that.” He rose from his chair and pulled out his cell. “I have a PR event, but let me see if I can get out of it.” He carried his cell to the doors that opened onto the suite’s wraparound terrace and dialed Sherlock, who was waiting in his car around the corner.

“Roy, it’s Coop,” he said when she answered. “Something came up, and I need to get out of that event at the Union League tonight. Fix it for me, will you?”

“Are you still with him?” she asked.