In Yorkshire the sun was a shy friend who visited once a week. In Los Angeles the sun was a celebrity who shouted at you all day long.
Michael Sterling stood by the pool of the hotel in Beverly Hills. The Sterling Era tour of America had begun.
Arthur Milton was sitting on a sun lounger. He was holding a donut. It was not a normal donut. It was the size of a car wheel. It was covered in pink frosting and sprinkles.
"Boss," Arthur said with a mouth full of sugar. "America is beautiful. Everything is big. The cars are big. The buildings are big. Even the ants are big."
"Do not eat the ants Arthur," Michael said putting on his sunglasses. "And do not eat too many donuts. We have a training session in one hour."
"I need energy Boss," Arthur argued. "I am scouting."
"Scouting for what? A bakery?"
"No," Arthur sat up. "We still have one problem. We have no Right Back. Tom is young. Sergio is too old to run up and down. We need a specialist."
