Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Stay calm, Crew.
“Since you’re so disconnected from things nowadays,” Brett says, “I’ll catch you up on a few things. There was supposed to be a big fight in Boston in a couple of months. A middleweight named Reyes was supposed to take on the man of the hour, the undefeated Hunter Davidson.”
I chuckle. “Undefeated? Nah, I believe I’m one to zero against him.”
Brett’s eyes light up and he shuffles in his seat. “That was a long time ago . . .”
I know he’s fucking with me, wanting me to take the bait. But he’s just laid his hand wide open and I’m seeing fucking spades.
“Pretty sure I had no problem handling him.” I laugh through semi-gritted teeth.
“There’s a camp of people,” Chuck says, watching me carefully, “that don’t appreciate his showmanship.”
“You mean people don’t like the fact that he’s a cocksucker? Go figure.”
Chuck laughs. “Apparently. And those people have proposed the idea of you taking Reyes’s place. Taking on Hunter Davidson right here in Boston.” He plays with his camera, a grin on his face. “I’d say that’s crazy, tossing a guy in the cage that hasn’t fought in years. A guy whose last fight ended with a stretcher.”
Chuck’s eyes glimmer. He’s much better at this game than Brett. “But I saw your fight,” he continues. “So I’m solidly in that camp. I’d love to see it happen.”
I wrap my hands around the sides of my chair, squeezing it to release some frustration. I know I have to stay calm, and make this seem like all their idea. I gotta come across as indifferent. Confident. I can’t blow this now.
“I follow MMA a little bit and Davidson’s career is on the right path. I’m pretty fucking sure his people aren’t going to want to put him back on the mat with a guy that has already proven he can kick his ass. I’ve got that punk’s number and beating him in front of the world would destroy his career; they aren’t stupid.”
“So, hypothetically speaking of course, you’d be willing to fight Davidson again?”
“If Davidson wants to ruin his career, I’m more than happy to do that for him.”
I push back from the table, my hands shaking from the adrenaline. “Is that all you guys have to discuss?”
“It is,” Brett says excitedly. “Can we snap a picture real quick?”
I stand and Brett walks around the table. Chuck snaps a couple of pics and then shakes my hand.
“Where can we get a hold of you?” Brett asks. I jot down my number on a napkin and hand it to him.
“All right, guys. I’m outta here.” I nod and turn to leave. Will is sitting at the bar, talking to Jordyn. He grins and I turn back around.
“Hey, Wiskin?”
“Yeah?”
“Make that conversation on the record.”
TWENTY-ONE
CREW
I’ve replayed the conversation a million ways on my way home. My head is pounding, the back of my neck aching like it does when adrenaline wears off. It’s almost like a hangover. I’m hoping some clarity will come; a moment when I’ll feel like something I’m fucking doing is the right thing.
How would I even know what that feels like if it did?
I unlock the door and start inside but stop midway.
My house usually doesn’t smell like much of anything. Maybe cologne from the morning or bleach if I’ve cleaned, but that’s it. It’s always just like I’ve left it. But tonight, the house smells different. A mixture of spices and warmth hits me hard and throws me a little off balance.
I shut the door softly, still feeling skewed. It’s my house, but I don’t know who’s up or what they’re doing. It doesn’t feel like I’m walking into my house. It feels like I’m walking into a home.
I toss my keys on the kitchen counter and make my way towards a light in the living room. I round the corner and see Julia sitting on the couch, hunched over a box. She looks up and her eyes meet mine.
Her beautiful face is marred with the misery she’s under. She has bags under her eyes, her forehead lined with tension. It adds to the weight I’m carrying on my shoulders.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “I didn’t think you’d be up. It’s late.”
She half-smiles. “I’m trying to get some of this mess cleaned up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, sitting in the chair Will always uses. I try to ease her worries with a smile, but it doesn’t work.
“I know you hate a mess, Crew. I feel bad still having boxes lying around.”
“It’s been a couple of days, Jules. Relax.”
“Relax? What’s that again?”
I feel like an asshole. Of course she can’t relax.
Neither can I.
“Is everything okay? You were gone a while.”
I consider how much to tell her, but I don’t want to get her hopes up. I don’t know if this is gonna work, it’s a long shot anyway. I’m not putting any eggs into this basket and I don’t really want her doing that either.