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Author's Note: Sorry if I teased everyone yesterday with my title page but the wait is over. Here's All That Glitters Ch. One. I have to warn you that Mike isn't very likable at the moment but that he will mellow out as the story progresses. Any Northwestern fans or alum out there I apologize too as well, I hope I got things right. I also need to state that the views expressed on Band Geeks and sorority girls are solely Mike's and not mean. I'd like to thank djkauf for being my editing once again and doing a wonderful job. The characters herein are DC Comics and not mine.

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Chapter One:

“Hey babe, can I buy you a drink?”

The blonde at the bar turned to me with a look of disgust. I smiled, showing her my pearly whites and her face changed. It was a gift I had. Girls from all over always threw themselves at me. I may come on too strong when I first approach them but as soon as they get some of the Carter charm, they melt in my grasp. Like this chick. She was good looking, not a knockout like some girls but she had a nice rack. I know what you’re thinking and you’re right, it’s definitely about the rack. The bigger the better I always say. The ones before me were definitely a D and the little top she squeezed them into was perfect for them. I could see her nipples through the thin fabric and she was definitely not wearing a bra.

“You’re Mike Carter, aren’t you?”

I smiled again. “Guilty as charged, babe.”

She giggled. God I loved the dumb ones. She was the stereotypical bimbo: blonde, blue eyed and big breasted. I bet she was a good lay too. “What are you drinking tonight, babe?”

She looked down at her drink, thinking for a second. “It’s a Mojito.”

“Hey barkeep, can you get a lady another one of these.”

The guy behind the bar nodded and went off to mix her drink. He came back about a minute later, handing her the drink. I didn’t have to pay; I never paid. That’s how it was when you were the Star. What kind of star, well the football God, of course. That’s right; I’m a genuine God Among Men as far as throwing the ball goes. I was All State back in high school and during my freshman year at NU---that’s Northwestern University for you civvies---I went from fourth string to second in only two games. In my third game, the first string broke his arm and I got bumped up. I threw fourteen touchdowns, ran in six and had multiple complete passes. Now in only my sophomore year I practically ran the whole team. I walked on water as far as campus life went.

That’s where I got my nickname from too. They called me “Booster” because I could launch the ball down the field like a rocket. How cool is that?

The blonde took her drink and sipped it slowly through a straw. I took her by the elbow and guided her away from the three or four other circling vultures trying to poach her from me. I pushed my way through the crowd. Lenny’s was always crowded after the games and practice seasons. It was the place to be Off Campus. For one it was the only place that didn’t card you at the bar and for another, it had a wall of huge flat screen TVs. Seeing as I was the Hero---The Wildcats had a fantastic season, thanks in part to yours truly---I had a reserved table right in front. After the games and practices, they played highlights and Lenny liked me front and center so I could bask in all the glory. I love the glory. It’s like a drug that I need to be fed every couple of days or I’ll wind down to nothing. Our season ended on a high note and though we didn't get too far into the play offs it was still a damn good time.

The music was loud and booming and there was so much talking I could barely hear myself think. But it was always this way after the games. As I approached the table, a couple of frat boys came by. One of them slammed me on the back and the other handed me a beer. I thanked him and took a slug. Beers were free too and seemed to materialize out of thin air. Anything for the God, I guess. I finally reached my table, pulling a chair out for the little lady. She sat down delicately, crossing her long, sexy legs. She was wearing a short jean skirt that barely covered her ass. When she crossed her legs, for a second I saw her bikini cut undies.

“So what do I call you, gorgeous?”

She giggled. I hated gigglers but I’d let it slid this time because she was so damn hot.

“I’m Brittany.”

Of course she was. They were all named Brittany, Tiffany, or some bubbly name like that. I couldn’t help but stare at her boobs as she sipped on her drink. There was a Sorority necklace dangling around her neck, it was Sigma Alpha Iota. Strange, she didn’t look like a music chick. Usually they were kind of nerdy and a little on the dumpy side. This girl was anything but. I looked her over once more. Thinking past her boobs, I noticed that her shirt was red and it did have Greek letters on it. How the hell did I miss that? I usually avoid the vapid sorority girls because they were like leeches. I guess it can’t be helped.

“What’s your major?”

“Music Theory.”

What the hell was that? I just smiled and nodded. I found that if you at least looked like you were interested in what the girl was saying then at least she’d let you make out with her by the end of the evening. Maybe I’d even get to squeeze those melons of hers. Hey, a boy can dream can’t he?

“Umm, do you play an instrument?”

I needed to keep this thing going until she was drunk enough to sleep with me. Hey, a boy’s got needs and right now, I’m on a Adrenaline High. Having sex was the only thing that seemed to bring me down. That and Black Jack. But if I hit the tables tonight, I’d be tapped out for the rest of the week. I’m kind of in a rut at the moment. In both cards and sex. I had a steady girl for a while but she caught on to my shit and told me I was too immature for anything serious. Frankly, it’s her loss because I’m a Wild Man in the sack.

She giggled again. “Music theory isn’t about instruments, silly. It’s about learning how music works.”

She started rattling on about pitch and all that crap. She went on and on about it. How the hell can a girl this flighty remember all that stuff? I looked around the room, trying to divert my mind elsewhere. The Bar was decked out in Purple and White in honor of the team. Evenm in the Off Season, Lenny loved to show his Wildcats pride. There were a lot of the guys here, wearing their jerseys like me. A lot of the cheerleaders were here too, out of uniform, unfortunately. I’d have bedded a couple of those a while ago if it wasn’t so frowned upon. There were a couple of cute ones at the bar too. Their boobs weren’t so big but they weren’t as vapid looking at Brittany here.

“Hey, are you listening?” She snapped one of her long manicured nails in my face.

“Of course I am, babe.”

God, please don’t ask me to repeat what you just said.

“What do you think?”

That was even worse. She was staring at me with those big blue eyes of hers, waiting for me to respond. I bit my lip. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I looked around the room, hoping for inspiration. The only thing that remotely inspired me was a waitress. She walked by carrying a tray of beers. I looked at the one in my hand. I’d only drained half of it. Fortunately, for me, Brittany wasn’t really paying attention.

“I think I need another beer.”

She pouted and I got to my feet. I slipped through the crowd of purple and white. There were a lot of congrats and more backslaps. At the bar I spotted my buddy Rick, he was sitting alone, nursing a bottle of Coke. Rick was a good guy. We met last year at Freshman Orientation. He was here on brains, me it was all scholarship. He wasn’t a sports fan but he came to the games because I told him it was a good place to pick up girls. Not that he was looking for some dumb flossy. He was looking for the woman he wanted to marry. I stared at him, sitting on the stool alone, sipping on his Coke.

“Hey Ricky” I said, sidling up to him. “Have I got the chick for you?”

He groaned. “Not again, that last girl, Amber, she kept trying to stick her hands down my pants.”

“So she was a little too ambitious for you. But this one is prime, I swear.” I pointed to my table where Brittany was sitting. “Her name’s Brittany. She’s a Music Theory Major and she loves brainy guys.”

Rick was studying Physics. He told me all about it once but I tuned him out just like everyone else.

“Is she boring you already?”

I gave him an innocent look. When he didn’t buy it, I threw the truth at him. “She talks and words come out of her mouth but I can’t make sense of them. I mean I know I should listen and care but really I’m in for the action.”

He sighed. “Ok, but you owe me.”

“Thatta boy, Ricky. Go wow her with that big brain of yours.”

He got off his stool and pushed his way toward my table. Me I sat down on his stool and ordered another beer. Then I looked about, trying to find the next lovely lady that wanted to chat up the Great Mike Carter. I actually found her. She was sitting a couple of stools over. She was another looker. A redhead this time, wearing an orange top and jeans. She looked out of place, especially in this bar. For a minute, I thought she might be a fan of our rivals, The Fighting Illini---that’s University of Illinois. Their colors were orange and blue. We lost to them in the playoffs,so to be a fan here would not be wise. This girl however didn’t look like an Illini fan; she didn’t look like a Wildcats fan either.

I got up and moved into the stool between us. “Hey beautiful, you’re in the wrong place if you’re not drinking.”

She turned to me and rolled her eyes. “But apparently it’s the right place for cheap pick up lines.”

It kind of stung. I liked a girl with a little spunk. But I wasn’t about to back down. “What brings you here?”

“Really” she said, laughing. “That wasn’t enough of a blow off.”

I hated it when they played games like this. “C’mon let me buy you a drink?”

She laughed. “Look, I’m not interested in being one of the Many Conquests of the Great Mike Carter.”

“So you’ve heard of me?”

“What girl on campus hasn’t?”

“Hey, babe” I said, setting my beer on the bar. “I’m not here to get you in the sack. I’m just offering to buy you a drink.”

She looked past me. “Did you get bored with the bimbo?”

I looked over at my table. Rick was doing me proud. Brittany was touching his arm and laughing. Looks like Mr. Science might actually score tonight. Now if I could be so lucky. I turned back to my redhead. There was something about her that intrigued me. Maybe it was her eyes; they were the brightest green I’d ever seen, like two shining jewels. Or maybe it was her hair. It was long and velvety; it hung about her head in waves of curls, like fire. It definitely matched the rest of her.

I needed to step up my game. “You have me at an unfair advantage. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“You’re not going to get it either.”

“How about your first name?”

“Not a chance.”

“What about a nickname, do you have one of those?”

She shook her head. “I do but I’m not telling you.”

I groaned. I’d only known this chick for a few minutes and already she was driving me nuts. I’m not sure if I was angry, impressed or really turned on. I think it was all three. She seemed to notice too, because she shifted in her seat, looking kind of uncomfortable. I knew the look, she was about to bolt. But there was no way I was going to strike out tonight. Brittany was a bubbly talker but this girl was a firecracker. Which meant she was probably the same in bed. I just needed to soften her up a bit and move in for the kill. Unfortunately my usual stuff wasn’t working.

“How about I tell you something about me and you give me your name?”

“Why would I want to know something about you?”

“Because you’re interested.”

She laughed. “I am, huh?”

I nodded. “Ok here goes.” I took a deep breath. “I bawled like a baby during Bambi.”

Ok it was a half-truth. I have actually seen Bambi but the crying part wasn’t me. It was actually an old school buddy I used to have. He once confessed during a game of Truth or Dare that he cried during Bambi. We were at a Co-ed party. Later that night, he lost his virginity to one of the hottest girls in school. I’m far from a virgin---I’m nineteen years old after all---but I needed something to get her to put out.

“Is that supposed to make me say Aww and hug you close to my bosom?”

“No, it’s supposed to make you tell me your name.”

She smiled. It was a cute smile. “Fair enough. You can call me Bea.”

“Bea, I like that” I let it roll around in my mouth for a few seconds.

“Is that your full first name?”

She laughed. “I never said it was my name at all” She stood up, straightening her top. “I just said you can call me that.”

She leaned forward and patted me on the knee. Then she did the unthinkable and walked away. I sat there stunned. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman walked away from me. I got up to follow her, even as far as grabbing her wrist. She snapped her head around and I could swear I saw fire in her eyes. I let go of her wrist.

She let me have it. “I was being polite before but I’m so far out of your league I’m on a different planet.”

She whipped her hair around, smacking me in the face with it and walked away.

I stood there stunned. For the first time in my life, The Great Mike Carter struck out.

___________________________________

You want to know what I do when I get depressed: I gamble.

There’s this little pool hall just down the street from Lenny’s. On the sign hanging above the door it just says Billiards, but the place really has no name. It’s kind of exclusive, too. Most people walking by wouldn’t pay it much attention because it’s a hole in the wall establishment. The only way you knew what was in there was through word of mouth. The only way you could come to the place was through invitation. I stumbled upon it about a year ago. The doorman threw me out on my ass the first time I tried to get inside. But I kept trying. But each time I failed and ended up meeting the pavement with my ass. I didn’t get lucky until after my first winning game. When I tried that time, the doorman recognized me and let me in. Apparently, he was a big Wildcats fan.

Gambling is an addiction that runs in the family. My father, Jon, was a serious gambler. His game was poker. He used to pour all his hard earned money into it. He’d spend all his time in a casino about ten miles from our house. He’d keep spending and he’d keep losing. My father was a fantastic card player but he didn’t have the proper poker face. And he had this horrible tell where he’d click his tongue against the back of his teeth. His opponents always caught on to it. So even though he was really good he always seemed to blow it in the end. He squandered our whole life savings at the poker tables and then some. About ten years ago, he got in real bad with lowlifes. He owed them big and wasn’t able to scrounge up the money. So he put a pistol in his mouth.

My mother had to sell our house to pay off his debt. After that, it was just her and me. We moved into an apartment on the far side of town. She had to get two jobs to make ends meet. But she did her best; she wanted me to get a good education so she forced me to do my best too. Schoolwork never really agreed with me. I’m a Straight B student but I’m what they call an “Under Achiever.” My teachers used to get mad because they claimed I was brilliant but I seemed to be bored. But I wasn’t bored; I just didn’t care about school. All I cared about was football and winning.

I stood under the Billiards sign, hunching my shoulders, trying to keep out of the rain. It had been raining a lot lately. The weather girl on the News the other day joked and said it was a Meta. People were always joking about them lately. I suppose it helped pass the time. Me, I could care less. Chicago had their own; they called her Giganta. She was a girl who could grow real big. I have a classmate who swears he saw her in the mall doing something cool. She was the talk of the town for a while but with so many Metas popping up here and there, no one cared anymore. Just the other day there was something on the news about a new one in San Francisco. The Blue Something or other. The only thing I liked about it is that they all seemed to be chicks.

I knocked on the door and waited. It didn’t take long. A little slot opened and all I saw were a pair of eyes. “Password” said the voice that belonged to them.

“C’mon Marty, it’s me Mike. I’ve been coming here for a while.”

“Password.”

I groaned. The password was constantly changing. Every day I’d get a text message with the new password for the day. I reached into my coat pocket and took out my phone, scrabbling through my list until I found the proper message. I read it off to him: “Butterfly” and there was a click. When the door opened, Marty stood there, his bulging muscles pressing against his t-shirt. He had the biggest smile on his face tonight.

“I take it you put some good bet tonight?”

“You bet your ass I did.”

He slapped me on the back. The only gambling Marty did was placing bets, usually on sporting events like football and basketball. I suppose it takes all kinds.

I left him standing at the door and wound my way down the dark narrow hall toward the stairs. Rumor had it that this place once belonged to Al Capone. It was one of the many places where he ran some of his operation out of it. The place had two parts to it. The front room was filled with pool tables and dartboards, the usual things that you’d find in a Billiards place. But it was the upstairs where the real action was. When I approached the stairs, I heard the laughing and the oldies music coming from the front. A lot of the guys in there were regulars. Every once in a while I went and shot some pool but it was small bills.

I liked the big money.

I walked up the stairs and knocked on the door there three times.

When the door opens, a terrifying looking black guy was standing there. He was taller and bigger than me. Which is quite a feat, seeing as I was six three. This guy was easily seven foot. They always changed the guys at the door up here, I’m not sure why. He looked me up and down then stepped aside to let me in. There was a small operation up here. There were a couple of black jack tables, a few poker tables and a wall of screens with each one playing a different sporting event. The room was packed tonight; several games were already going. I sauntered over to the little bar in the corner and ordered a beer. Hey, I don’t have a drinking problem. It’s just that I liked to unwind after a good game.

“Hey looky here, folks” said a loud voice as a short, portly guy stood up from one of the poker tables. “This here is a living legend.”

All eyes were on me. I turned and beamed at the room, giving them the Mike Carter beauty shot.

“Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Chicago’s own Golden Boy himself, Booster Carter.”

There were some murmurs and nods. The portly guy, Joey, came walking over and grabbed my arm, leading me to his table. Unlike me, he liked his poker. I looked at the pile of chips on the table, there had to be close to ten grand there already. Most of the faces I saw I didn’t recognize but that wasn’t uncommon. People came and went; there were always new faces. The only one that seemed to stand out was a guy in sharp, pinstriped suit. He looked like he was made of money. The suit was designer and his watch probably cost more than I make in a year. He had slicked back hair, just graying at the temples and a flashy looking gold ring on his right hand.

He looked at me; his eyes were gray and emotionless. “So you’re the Booster, huh?” Even his voice was kind of cold. I nodded my head.

This guy kind of scared me. “So you going to play cards or just gawk at me.”

I looked at the pot again. This was a high rollers game, way too rich for my blood. “You guys play for big money, too big for my paycheck.”

He smirked. “Nonsense kid. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll front you the two grand buy in.”

I looked at Joey. His eyes seemed to say No while he nodded. He looked kind of pale, so clearly whoever this guy was he was bad news. When he spoke his voice had a bit of a tremble to it: “It’s your call kid. Personally I think this game is a little rich for you but…”

“Let the kid make up his own mind, Joey,” said Mr. Pinstripe coldly.

I looked at the table again. Poker wasn’t my strong suit. I knew how to play but I wasn’t very good at it. I looked at the other faces; all of them stared coldly at me. They kind of sent a shiver up my spine. Joey kept trying to ward me off with his eyes. Then I looked at the pot again. It was huge. If I won that, I could send it home to my mother and she’d be able to pay her bills without a problem for weeks. I took a deep breath and decided.

“I’ll sit for a few hands.”

I sat in an empty chair. Joey looked a bit disappointed but didn’t say anything. Mr. Pinstripe passed me my two grand in chips and we began. They started a new hand, the dealer whipping the cards around the table. When I got all mine, I gave them a look. I wanted to smile but how bad would that have been. Suffice to say I was convinced that I had this in the bag. I played through the first game and doubled my winnings. I did pretty good in the second and third. I was on a roll until I folded on the fourth hand. On the fifth, I hit it big, winning half the pot. I looked at the chips before me, there had to be close to ten grand there already. The pile in the center was triple that amount now. Joey kept looking at me, trying to warn me off. I ignored him. I was on a roll after all. I played through a couple more hands, doing pretty good until I hit a snag. It was a big one too. I started bleeding chips after that until about an hour later I was down to about five hundred dollars. I felt like someone had socked me in the gut. Mr. Pinstripe looked around the table, all smug and mighty. When his eyes fell on me, he didn’t look too happy. Though he’d won back his two grand, clearly he thought I owed him more.

I blew my last chips twenty minutes later. “Well that’s it for me,” I said, standing up.

Mr. Pinstripe stood up too. “Cash me in.”

The Dealer nodded. He stepped away from the table and walked over to me, putting his arm around my shoulder. “Did I do something wrong?” I stumbled, suddenly very afraid.

I may have been Big Man on Campus but I was a small fish in this ocean.

“In a matter of speaking” he said, walking me over to the screens.

I gulped. This wasn’t going to be good. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I did try my hardest but poker really isn’t my game. If you let me play blackjack I can win a lot and…”

He cut me off. “It doesn’t have anything to do with cards. It has to do with that game you love so much.” I gulped again. “You see I like the Fighting Illini, I always place good bets on them. They’ve been a good team, undefeated and everything. But that game back in November. the odds were on you to win. So I took a gamble because that's what I do and you know what happened, a big bump."

I shook my head. I knew but I didn’t want to say it aloud.

“That bump was a Booster bump,” He said, clamping down hard on my shoulder. “There are ways of dealing with certain bumps. But I find that I can even them out without pounding on them too much. Do you understand?” I nodded; this wasn’t going to be good. “I have a proposition for you. You see I put a large sum of money on you that day. I thought I could win some of it back in cards but I wasn’t so lucky. So here’s what I’m going to do. By the end of the week, I have a deal coming up; one that requires the money you lost me. If you can come with the cash in two days I’ll call us even, but if you can’t…”

He didn’t finish. This was bad; this was really bad.

“How much?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

He smiled. “About a hundred grand.”

I thought I was going to pass out. How in the hell was I going to get a hundred grand in two days. It wasn’t possible. “That’s crazy. Where am I supposed to get that much money?”

He shrugged. “That’s not my problem. My problem is you and this.” He grabbed my left arm, giving it a good squeeze. It was my throwing arm, the Golden Booster as it was affectionately called around campus. “If you don’t get me my money, I’m going to break this arm in so many places that you won’t be able to grip a ball again.”

He let go of my arm and moved away. He wanted over to the door. The big black guy was actually his goon. He was holding out a coat, which Mr. Pinstripe slipped into. The jackass looked back at me with a smug look then left.

I walked over to an empty table and slumped in a chair. Joey came over a few seconds later, handing me a glass of something. I didn’t even look to see what it was. I just downed it in one shot.

“You look like someone just ran over your dog kid,” he said, sighing.

“I’m screwed.”

“I tried to warn you to stay away from the table, that guy’s bad news.”

I nodded. “Who the hell is he?”

Joey laughed. “You don’t know?” I shook my head. He nodded. “I suppose that explains why you sat down. That, my boy, was Henry Ballard.”

I groaned. Why hadn’t I recognized him? Everyone knew who Ballard was. He was some scumbag businessman; he owned half the city. Rumor had it that he was putting in a bid for the Senate. He was one of the slimiest creeps around and I was now in his cross hairs.

“Son of a bitch” I said, rubbing my hands into my eyes.

“You want my advice?” I didn’t really but I nodded. “Take some money. Play your game and see if you get lucky. You probably won’t get the money you owe but you’ll be able to make enough to disappear.”

“You want me to run?”

He shrugged. “People who cross Henry Ballard don’t usually walk out of these things alive. Even if you pay him the money, he’ll find another way to mess with you. Ballard holds grudges and they’re real bad.”

“Thanks Joey” I said, sighing. “I’ll think about it.”

He stood up and patted me on the shoulder as he walked away.

How had my day gone from fantastic to shit in only a few hours? I pulled out my cell phone; it wasn’t even ten pm yet. I groaned and got up. I wandered over to the table, ordered a shot of whatever and downed it in one gulp. Then I reached into my pocket and took out the wad of cash there. I’d avoid poker; after all, it wasn’t my game. I looked around the room and saw a hot Blackjack table. The people there looked amateurish. I smiled and walked over, sitting in the empty chair. I passed two hundred bucks in twenties to the dealer. She gave me my chips and cards and I began.

“Hey folks” I said, confidence returning. “They call me Booster and I’m going to take all your money.”