The ball hurtled past him.
"What, I hit a nerve?" Worthy laughed, arming his sweating
wrinkled forehead with his shirtsleeve.
William crouched. "Wallaby is a small company in Silicon Valley
that manufactures portable computers and those new small wonders
referred to as PIAs, which stands for personal interactive
assistant," William said flatly. He bounced on the balls of his
feet, anticipating Worthy's serve.
Worthy tossed the ball in the air and pounded it with his
racquet, then dropped to a defensive footing, his actions fluid
and youthful.
William smashed the ball and they played out the serve, and he
ultimately gained the ball after Worthy crashed into the wall.
"You okay?" William huffed.
Worthy gave his shoulder a quick squeeze where it had connected
with the wall. "Serve," he ordered.
William served and the game continued.
Before the match, William had started the day in his
imperturbable business-as-usual mood. He remembered the pleasure
he felt upon reading his business adviser's latest market-share
report, announcing that ICP had nearly doubled its total unit
sales of the BP computer, compared to Wallaby's estimated total
sales of its Mate all-in-one portable computer. But though sales
of the BP were greater than those of the Mate, William Harrell's
consummate business sense counseled against feeling triumphant.
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