ARBY AND QUEEN LESLIE
by Steve Gordon
An early-chapter excerpt from Steve Gordon's upcoming novel At the End of the Day, releasing June 2026, the saga of Jake and Leslie as they become, and perhaps stay, Mr. and Mrs. Eisenberg.
The day of the game came, and Jake was at Leslie’s door at 1:00 PM. She wore a blue UCLA polo shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Jake had almost the same outfit.
“We’re twins,” Leslie said.
“Yes, we are,” Jake answered. “And we’re going to see a lot more people dressed the same way.”
“I guess I should’ve known that.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m thrilled you wore a UCLA shirt. If you’re going to be in the student section, you need to show your loyalty.”
“Am I considered loyal, even if I know nothing about the team?”
“Absolutely. Just cheer when you hear everyone else cheering, and you’ll be fine.”
They started walking from the SDT sorority house to Pauley Pavilion, the arena where UCLA played their home basketball games. As they got closer, throngs of other students joined them. Upon arriving, Leslie saw hundreds more standing in line, waiting to get in. Even though she had never experienced this before and knew nothing beyond the basics of the game, she felt excited to be part of the group. She was also pleased to be sharing something with Jake that was obviously so important to him.
They took their place in line and waited. People everywhere were bubbling with excitement about the game. Leslie realized there was a real culture there.
Jake noticed her looking around.
“What do you think?”
“So far, it’s pretty cool. I didn’t know this world even existed.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Jake explained. “Once we get inside, it’s really crazy.”
About an hour before game time, the doors opened, and everyone rushed in. The student section did not have assigned seats, so they all ran in together, trying to sit as close as possible to the court.
Once settled in their place, Leslie looked around in amazement. The band was playing, students and other fans were cheering, and the game hadn’t even started yet. The energy was electrifying.
Leslie tried her best to follow the storyline of the game. Jake told her the UCLA players were in white uniforms with UCLA across the chest. She thanked him for the information, but she assured him that even she wasn’t quite that lame.
She soon got the gist of when to cheer and when to be quiet. There were subtleties she did not understand, but she knew the bottom line was to score more points than the other team. Happily for all, the UCLA team did just that.
“I was thinking about going to D. B. Levys for dinner,” Jake said after the game, “if that’s okay with you.”
“Perfect,” Leslie replied.
They walked without speaking for some time. Then, Leslie broke the silence.
“So, how long were you watching me before you got up the nerve to say something?”
Jake stopped walking.
“How did you know that?”
“I saw you hanging around my area of campus, and I knew you weren’t in any of my classes. At first, I thought nothing of it, but when you kept reappearing, I thought it was strange.”
“Were you concerned I was stalking you?”
“To be honest, I was at first. But I talked about it with some friends who were watching you while you were watching me. They thought you were harmless enough and figured you were just shy.”
“Was one of those friends the Julie we saw at the student store?”
“Yes. How’d you know?”
“I may be mistaken, but I think she winked at you when we saw her that day.”
Leslie laughed.
“Yeah,” she said, “she and I’ve been talking about you for a while now. She thinks you’re cute. She also thought I should have asked you out, but I was curious about how long you were going to follow me around.”
“Well, I certainly feel silly.”
“No, please don’t. I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad.”
“I know, but I’m still a little embarrassed. I’ve been following you around for weeks, not knowing why I didn’t have the nerve to talk to you, and now you’re telling me you saw me the whole time.”
“You want to know what I think?” Leslie asked.
“Sure. This can’t get any worse than it already is.”
“I think you spend too much time thinking about things logically, and you don’t let yourself go with the flow.”
“Wow, that’s quite an analysis after having known each other for such a short time.”
“I’m a psych major, remember. I’m training for this kind of stuff,” she said with a playful smile on her face. “In fact, I’ve come up with a nickname for you. I’m going to call you Arby.”
“You’re naming me after a roast beef sandwich?”
“No. It’s R. B., as in right-brain. I know you have it in you, and I’d love to see it more often.”
They were seated at their table, and Jake was not convinced that he was happy about his new name. But they ordered their dinner and continued chatting.
“You know,” she said, “you should probably be glad I was watching you for a while.”
“Why’s that?
Jake could not imagine what her answer would be.
“Well,” she said sheepishly, “you were kind of rude when you first came up to me. If I hadn’t been intrigued about who you were, I might’ve told you to get lost.”
Jake smiled, trying to cover his embarrassment, but Leslie saw this and immediately regretted what she said. Wanting to change the subject and discuss something that interested him, she asked Jake about the basketball game. She knew he was passionate about that, and she wanted him to feel comfortable again.
Leslie just sat back and listened to everything Jake had to say. His passion and knowledge about the game captivated her. Sports had always been a mystery to Leslie. She could never understand how people became so fanatical about their teams.
“Hey, Arby, can I ask you a question?”
He just looked at her and thought about the name. Truthfully, he was flattered their relationship was important enough for her to give him a nickname.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Ask me the question, and I’ll let you know.”
“What is it about sports that make grown men act like little children? I mean, like today, when we were at the game, I saw all these people yelling and screaming over every little thing. I understand they want their team to win, but it seems silly to get so emotional about a game.”
Jake smiled, but he stayed silent for a bit too long.
“Was that a tough question for you?” Leslie asked.
“Your first mistake,” he began after another pause, “is to assume that it’s just a game.”
He spoke with a seriousness in his voice that belied the seemingly casual content of the topic being discussed. Leslie’s expression was one of curiosity. She had no idea her very simple question would elicit such a response.
“Go on,” she said.
Jake continued:
“It may seem like just a game, but it really isn’t. You’re right about the emotions of it, though. I don’t want to scare you, but when the Bruins win, I’m in a great mood, and when we lose, I’m depressed. I know that seems extreme, but it’s the truth.”
“It’s interesting that you say ‘we’ when you talk about UCLA. I know it’s our school and all, but you aren’t on the team.”
“It’s always been ‘we’ for me, and it always will be. Sports, or I should say, rooting for your team, has an emotion that goes down to your soul. It’s not just about winning and losing. It’s a pride and passion thing that’s buried deep. When I’m talking about sports with friends, it’s pretty casual. We’ll talk about what’s going on and who’s doing what. We’ll finish the conversation and go on to something else. But when we’re there, or watching a game, particularly a big game, like the playoffs or something, the importance of it transcends reality.”
This last comment brought a look from her as if to say: “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He saw her face and understood the confusion.
“Hey,” he said, “you probably think I’m nuts or something. I know in the big scheme of things, it’s just a game, and I hate admitting that. But I’m being honest when I tell you that, for me, the emotions feel really, really important. I’m not getting high, but I feel euphoric when I’m right in the middle of it. And it’s a euphoria that I share with others. When it’s crunch time in a game, and I’m with my friends, we get it. We’re sharing a significant experience together that we all understand.”
“So, it’s like a bonding thing?”
“Yes, we’re bonding. But it’s more than that. We’re bonding over something that, at that moment in time, is the most important thing in the world.”
Leslie leaned back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and just shook her head. Jake laughed at her body language and tried to explain things differently.
“Let me give you an example. My uncle, who’s a huge sports fan, just got married two years ago. He’s my mom’s youngest brother, and was a playboy bachelor until when he met and married my aunt. They had a big fight last October about something that happened at their wedding and something else that had just happened.”
“What was that?”
“At the wedding, they had both written their own vows and read them during the ceremony. When his new wife read hers, she could barely get the words out because she was so emotional. She was all choked up and teary. When it was my uncle’s turn, he read them like he was reading the dictionary. What he said was all fine and good, but there was no emotion or feeling whatsoever. He finished it very quickly and people chuckled they delivered them so differently.”
“Your aunt was upset with that?” Leslie asked.
“No, she wasn’t bothered at the time. She knew how he was, and really didn’t expect anything else.”
“So, what was the problem?”
“Remember I said something happened last October? Do you have any idea what that was?”
“Not a clue.”
“The Dodgers won the World Series.”
“And? You don’t mean—”
“Yep. We were all watching the last game together, and when it was over and the Dodgers won, my uncle was hysterical. He cried like a baby. It was the first time in sixteen years that they had won the World Series, and he’s a huge fan.”
“What did your aunt do?”
“She just stared at him. He didn’t even realize she was upset for about twenty minutes. Everybody was yelling and cheering and talking about the game, and she just sat there getting more and more angry. Finally, he realized she wasn’t participating in the celebration, and he asked her what was wrong. She looked at him and stormed out of the room. None of us knew why she was upset, either. It wasn’t until the next week, when I saw him again, that he told me. Apparently, she was furious that while they were reading their wedding vows, he acted like they were meaningless to him.”
Leslie finished the thought:
“But when he started crying after the stupid baseball game, it felt to her like he cared more about the Dodgers than he did about her.”
“You got it. I don’t know how else to explain it other than the meaning goes far beyond it being just a game. I know it’s not logical, but it’s true.”
Leslie looked at him for a moment and said:
“You may not realize this, but the description you just gave me came straight from the right side of your brain.”
Jake looked at her and smiled.
“I guess the name you gave me is working.”
They finished their dinner, and Jake paid the check.
“How about walking around for a bit?” he asked.
“I’d love to.”
They strolled through Westwood Village hand in hand, watching the people and enjoying the cool, clear evening. They found their way to Swenson’s Ice Cream Parlor and shared a hot fudge sundae. At one point, Leslie got some fudge on her cheek. Instead of pointing it out to her, Jake took his napkin and wiped it off. Leslie thanked him, and instead of feeling odd about it, she felt taken care of. This was a unique experience for her, and she liked it.
They arrived back at the SDT house much too soon. Neither one of them wanted the evening to end. The sorority, however, had rules about guys being in the house late at night. So, they stood on the porch, looking into each other’s eyes.
Jake leaned closer and whispered:
“Can I kiss you?”
She slowly nodded.
Jake very gently cupped the side of her neck in his hand, leaned down, and softly kissed her on the mouth. The kiss lasted exactly as long as each of them wanted it to. Standing there in silence, they both basked in the intoxication of a first kiss.
“I don’t want to go,” Jake said, “but I guess I’d better.”
“I hope we can see each other again.”
Jake smiled.
“Do you think I would let you kiss me if I didn’t want to see you again?”
“Where have I heard that before?” Leslie chuckled. “Actually, Mr. Eisenberg, I think it was you who kissed me, not the other way around.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”
She grabbed the back of his neck with both hands, pulled him down to her, and planted a long, deep kiss on him. When she finally let him up for air, she said:
“That, my friend, is so you don’t forget again.”
Jake shook his head.
“No chance of that.”
As he walked away, Leslie called after him.
“Goodnight, Arby.” “Goodnight,” he called back, and he thought, I need to find a name for her.
Mr. Gordon was born and raised in Southern California, where he still lives with his family. At the End of the Day, his first novel, releases June 2026.