She’s small, maybe five foot, with a creamy white complexion and bright green eyes. Her smile is wide and friendly.
“Hi,” she says. “I’m Macie. I don’t know if you remember me or not.”
“I do,” I smile. “I’m Julia. This is Ever.”
“She’s a cutie,” she says, looking at my baby girl. “Can I get you anything? Water? A Coke? Something to eat?” She flips through the file in her hand and makes a few notes.
“No. I’m fine. Thank you.”
She turns her attention back to me, leaning against the end of the bed. “Tell me about you.”
I shrug, not sure why she’s asking. “About me?”
She laughs easily, her red ponytail swishing around. “We are going to be seeing a lot of each other for a while. It just makes things easier if we have something to talk about, right?”
“I guess . . .” I don’t like the idea of getting to know the staff here. I don’t want to be here enough to know them. I want to pretend like they don’t exist.
“Well,” she says, “I’ll go first. I like the color purple, the Boston Red Sox, and Sex on the Beach—both in real life and the drink,” she laughs.
Her laugh is light and friendly and I find myself wondering what it would be like to drink wine and watch a movie with her. She seems like someone I’d like outside of the hospital.
“Okay, fair enough. I like to cook, watch movies, and the color purple, too.”
“One thing in common. That’s a start!” She moves around Ever’s bed and presses a button to stop the beeping it started to make. “Are you married?”
I shake my head. “My husband is deceased.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. What about you?”
She shrugs carelessly and I wish for a split second I knew what that felt like. “I’m just having fun. Seeing a couple of guys semi-regularly but nothing serious.” She glances at her watch. “Okay. I have to give some meds in just a few minutes. It was nice talking to you, Julia.”
“It was nice talking to you, too, Macie.”
She smiles and heads out, leaving me with a bit happier spirits than when she arrived.
CREW
I slide into the cab of my truck and toss my bag in beside me. Before starting the engine, I turn on my phone to see if Julia has texted me. Every time I check it, I have a shit ton of missed calls and voice mails from people that have seen the interview on the news or the web somewhere. It would be completely entertaining if the circumstances were different. I’d be eating this up, but there’s too much attached to it now.
I scroll through six messages before I find Jules’ name.
Julia: Port is in. She’s sleepy but doing well. She’s asking for you and I told her you’d try to be by tonight.
I start to respond when it vibrates in my hand. I don’t know the number.
“Hello?”
“Is this Crew Gentry?”
“Yeah. Who is this?”
“Good evening, Crew. This is Don Wetzel with the NAFL.”
My mouth goes dry. I remember this guy. He’s the guy that I talked to my senior year at Minnesota. He’s the one that approached me about joining their organization.
It fucking worked. It. Fucking. Worked.
“You don’t happen to remember me, do you?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say and clear my throat. “What can I do for you?”
He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure you know why I’m calling.”
“Humor me.”
“Very well. We had a fight lined up in a little less than three months for your old buddy Hunter Davidson. You might know a little something about that.”
It’s my turn to laugh, but I’m not about to show my hand too early. “Maybe.”
“Well, it seems a certain bar fight and interview have put you back in the spotlight.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He pauses. “How’s your health these days?”
“I’m workin’ the docks. What’s that tell you?”
“Look, Crew. I almost didn’t call you about this . . .” He sighs into the line and my heartbeat quickens. “Davidson’s opponent dropped out, which I know you know. Your little . . . demonstration . . . last week and the discussion with the television station has fueled Davidson’s camp. I’m just going to be honest with you here. Davidson’s making himself known as a helluva fighter. He’s ending his fights in dramatic fashion. With Reyes dropping out, he’d have to fight either Patterson or Hickman and he’d have to go to all the way up to 205 to do that.”
“They’d destroy him,” I interject.
“Possibly. But this is a business decision and everyone is chattering about you, Mr. Gentry. Davidson’s camp is looking at this as a big PR move. They can clear up his record and they think he’ll end you in a very flamboyant way. I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Cut to the chase, Wetzel.” I drum my fingertips on the steering wheel, my knee bouncing up and down.
“I’m calling to offer you a fight.”
I hold the phone away from my face and blow out a breath. I give myself five seconds to get myself together before putting it back to my ear.
“ . . . you’d fight on July 13th. That’s not far off, especially if you haven’t been training. I don’t want to throw you in there to be fed to the wolves—”
“What kind of money we talking?”
He laughs. “So you’re interested?”
“For the right price, yeah.”
“I’ll come to Boston tomorrow. Meet me at our office on Peiffer Street tomorrow at one. Can you do that?”
“I’ll be there.”
CREW
I look out across the field and I don’t even know how I got here. I hung up with Wetzel and just drove.
I step out of my truck and shut the door behind me. My boots sink into the lawn as I make my way across the grass. The sun is warm as it prepares to set in the west, birds chirping in the trees strategically planted around me. I’m on auto-pilot, drawn to my destination like a magnet.
My stomach churns, my chest hot as choices roll through my mind. I know, ultimately, I don’t have a choice. I gotta do what I gotta do to get the money. I just feel so fucking overwhelmed, like my life is flashing before my eyes. Everything is rolling, compounding, and I have no one to talk about anything with. All I have is Will, but he doesn’t know anything more than I do about anything. I need someone logical, someone level-headed.
I need my brother.
I spot the gray headstone in front of me. I’ve only been here once since the burial. I didn’t stay long. Seeing his name carved into the cold stone, his life defined by two dates, was more than I could take. It was fucking brutal.
I notice the purple flowers Julia has put in the urns on either side of the stone. They’re weathered and fraying. They stand there and do their job and take all the abuse the world throws at them. That’s me these days. Fuck it if life wasn’t easier when I just ran away from everything. Why can’t I do that this time?
“Hey,” I say gruffly.
I glance around, but no one else is here. I kick at a rock and shake my head, feeling like a damn fool. But I can’t help it. I just need to be here.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Gage,” I laugh. A red bird chirps overhead and watches me.
I release a breath and feel my energy leave my body with it. “I’m in over my head here, brother. I really fuckin’ am. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
My voice starts to crack. The words start pouring out. “Am I doin’ the right thing? I’m trying to take care of your girls. I’ve moved them in with me, I’ve told Jules not to worry about anything but Ever. I’m doing everything I can, Gage, but I feel like none of it is enough. None of it is what you’d do. I just keep making fucking decisions and it solves nothing. Just gets me to another fucking problem.
“I’m gonna take this fight tomorrow. Between you, me, and this headstone here, I’m worried. I mean,
I gotta do it. I don’t see any other way to get the money. But what if it doesn’t work? What if I manage to swing this fight and then I don’t win? Then what? We both can’t abandon them!” I groan into the air, frustration boiling over. “Damn it! There has to be another solution and I just don’t fucking know what it is!”
I place both hands on the tombstone and bow my head. “I love them, too, you know. I don’t know if that’s right, either, but I do. And if you were here, I’d stay away but you aren’t and I’m trying to do the right thing and I can’t help but love them.” I laugh. “I bet that little confession has you turning over right now, huh?”
The bird chirps again and I watch it jump from branch to branch. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I guess I just wanted you to know I’m trying. As long as I live, I’ll protect them and do everything I have to in order to make sure their lives are better than ours were. But if you have any genius ideas about how to fix this shit, feel free to impart your knowledge.”
I nod and take a couple of steps backwards. “I won’t let you down, Gage. I’m manning the fuck up.”
The little bird calls out and I look up. It leaps off the branch and flies across the graveyard and out of sight.
With a final glance at the stone, I head back to my truck. I know what needs to be done. I just have to work out the details.
CREW
“Mr. Gentry?”
My head snaps to the brunette behind the large mahogany desk. I run my hands down my jeans.
“Mr. Wetzel’s ready for you.”
She nods towards a door to her left. I stand and walk across the room and knock on it.
“Come in,” a man’s voice says from the other side.
I pause just a second before opening it.
After my discussion with Gage last night, I headed to the hospital. Ever was having a bad night, sicker than fuck. Julia was a nervous wreck and I stayed late, trying to be the calm in the storm for them both. As I sat there and watched my niece heave into a bucket and Julia pour her heart and soul into caring for her daughter, it drove reality home.
Life is about choices and I had made mine.
It was time to stop worrying about it.
Don’t talk about it. Be about it.
Don Wetzel is sitting behind a desk. His hair is a bit grayer than I remember, otherwise he’s the same. A little shady but very smooth. He smiles widely and stretches his hand towards me. “Good to see you again, Crew.”
I shake his hand and then take a seat across from him.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Good.”
He studies me for a minute. “You look good. Strong.”
“Yeah. I’m no worse for the wear,” I say nonchalantly.
He seems satisfied with that. He rolls his chair around and grabs a file before turning to face me again. He sets the file down and clasps his hands on top of it. He watches me with narrowed eyes. “You’re sure you want to do this? There’s little time to prepare and Davidson’s hot right now.”
“Absolutely.” I keep my features steady, confident. I don’t want to say too much, just let him do the talking. Saying too much can get ya in trouble; you can’t regret things you never say.
“What about your injury?”
“I’ll sign a medical waiver,” I state. “It’s not your problem.”
“Fair enough,” he shrugs and opens the file. “We are prepared to offer you $30,000. Not bad for one day.”
“Thirty grand? You’re kidding me. You expect me to take a fight for thirty fucking grand?”
“Crew, I hate to say this, but you’re a nobody.”
What the fuck did he just say?
“I’m a nobody that happens to be the only guy to beat your boy. In my book, and in a lot of people’s books out there, that makes me a somebody.”
He chuckles in a self-absorbed kind of way. “First of all, he’s not my boy—”
“This is bullshit,” I say, leaning forward. “The fans are demanding this. Davidson himself wants this fight. Don’t think I’m going to go out there and do all of you a favor, because that’s what this will be, Wetzel, for thirty fucking grand.”
“We don’t really care what Davidson wants. We care what’s going to make us money. And this fight will pull in some viewers but the NAFL isn’t going to give some guy off the street, even with a vendetta like yours, a six-figure payout, Crew. It’s just not going to happen.”
My mind races, scrambling to come up with a solution. I need more fucking money. I need to make this happen.
I feel Don’s eyes on me as I plot.
Think!
“I’m just gonna be blunt here, okay?” I say. “The truth is you think Davidson’s gonna kill me. So you’re gonna throw me a bone to get in there, let him win, so he can move on.”
He shrugs. “That’s what the odds say. And the NAFL isn’t going to pay a guy much more than that to lose.”
I laugh angrily. “You’re so sure I’m gonna lose, huh? Well how about this? Make it all or nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
I lean even closer, my heart thumping in my chest. “If I lose, you pay me nothing. If I win, you pay me one hundred grand.”
He laughs. “Are you serious?”
“Does it look like I’m joking?”
Don leans back in his chair and looks at me like I’m off my rocker. “I think I can make that work. But are you absolutely certain you want to do that? Have you given this much thought?”
“Make it happen.”
He leans forward and pushes a file across the desk. “Here are the contracts. You want to take these by an attorney or some sort of counsel before you sign? It’d be the smart thing to do.”
“Give me a pen.”
Don takes the papers and changes the contract amounts to reflect the new agreement. He hands them back with a pen. I quickly sign my name by the red tabs and close the file. My signature is a little wavier than usual, but there’s so much damn adrenaline pumping through me right now that it’s amazing I can even hold a pen.
“Done.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says.
“Again, not your problem,” I mutter.
He blows out a breath, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Okay. Let’s get Davidson’s camp on the line and get this show on the road.” He presses a few buttons on his phone and the sound of a line ringing echoes around the room.
“Killian.”
“Killian. Don Wetzel.”
“How’d it go with Gentry?”
“I got him right here. We just signed a contract.”
“Hunter! Come here!” Killian shouts.
Don watches me shrewdly, looking for signs of me backing out. Not fucking happening.
“I have Hunter right here,” Killian says.
“Mr. Davidson, I have Mr. Gentry here with me. We’ve just signed a deal. The two of you will be fighting on July 13th.”
Davidson laughs and the sound of his voice sends a chill up my spine. I hate this motherfucker more than I’ve ever hated anyone. Even his laugh is cocky. I recall the things he’s said about me over the years, the excuses he’s made as to why he lost to me, the insinuations that I’d never have made it in the NAFL.
I want to end him.
Again.
“Hey, Crew. You ready to get your ass whipped?”
“Good luck with that,” I laugh.
He cackles maniacally. “I’m gonna end you, motherfucker.”
“No, motherfucker. I’m going to beat you. Again.”
“I’ve waited for this day for a long time. You’ll be lucky if I don’t kill you. Fuck, I almost killed you last time and you were in your prime,” he laughs. “Better be ready, fool.”
“You’ve got a $100 mouth and a $5 ass. I’m gonna humiliate you in front of the world just like I did last time.”
“Okay, gentleman,” Don says, winking at me, “that’s enough for now. Just getting us all on the same
page. Good luck to you both.”
“We’ll talk soon,” Killian says and Don ends the call.
Shit just got fuckin’ real.
CREW
I pop my keys on the counter. I have so much shit to do, I don’t even know where to start.
I glance at the clock as I dig through a kitchen drawer and it’s nearly seven already. I pull out a notebook and ink pen and sit on the sofa. I gotta get a plan in place and I gotta do it now.
Getting through the rest of the work day after the meeting with Wetzel was almost impossible. I had to stay a couple of extra hours to make up for the time I was gone. Unloading the ships gave me time to roll everything around in my head and by the time I left work, I had a weird sense of focus. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I wouldn’t say it was clarity because there are still pieces of this mess I don’t know. But for once in my life, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, this is absolutely what I am supposed to be doing. Even not knowing how this was going to end for me, I knew how it’d end for Everleigh, and that was with a chance at a future.
I lean against the cushions and give myself just a minute to breathe. Looking around the room, I realize how empty it feels without them here. I see their stuff strewn around, but that just makes me miss them more. With a sigh, I pull out my phone and dial Jules.
“Hey,” she says when she picks up, her voice sweet but tired.
“Hey. How are you?”
”I’m okay. Ever’s sleeping now, so I’m trying to get a few minutes myself. It’s been a long day.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. It’s fine. It’s nice to hear your voice.”
I smile, wishing I was with her. “I was gonna come by tonight, but I, uh, I had a few things come up today. I had to work late and now I’m planning this side job I’ve taken on.”
“Oh, Crew,” she says, “I feel so bad.”
“Don’t. I volunteered for all of this. Remember that.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I fill the void.
“You guys should be home this weekend, right?”
She yawns. “That’s the plan. If everything goes okay and she tolerates the treatment with no complications, we should be out of here sometime after Friday.”
Sacrifice Page 17