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)
My brain could’ve at least figured some shit out after being awake all night. But it didn’t. Ever still has cancer. I still need to come up with a ton of fucking money. Julia probably still thinks I am a fuckup.
When I rolled out of bed, the only thing different than the last few mornings was that Julia had made me coffee. She wasn’t around and there was no note or anything, but the pot was full when I ventured into the kitchen.
Inside the small break room, I open my locker and grab a bottle of water. I take a drink, grateful to be alone for a few minutes. The cool water feels good as it trickles down my throat. I rummage around and find my phone and turn it on. One missed call. I press the voicemail button.
“Hey, Crew. It’s Brett Wiskin from Boston 15. I wanted to let you know that I’ve filed my report from our talk with the station and it’ll air tonight at ten. I’ve penned a column for the website and posted it this morning. Just letting you know in case you get any calls or want to check it out for yourself. Thanks again for meeting with us. I wish you all the luck in the future.”
I look to the ceiling as my throat squeezes shut.
Holy shit.
I hope Brett took what I gave him and ran with it. He bit, but did he bite hard enough?
I can’t ignore the touch of anxiety growing in my stomach. I need to make this happen, but I know for it to happen, I need the stars to align. I need the right people to see it, to share it, for it to hit the right nerve with the right people.
It’s such a long shot it probably isn’t even a shot at all. For all I know, Hunter Davidson already has another contender lined up.
It will take the stars aligning and the grace of God to even get this stupid idea off the ground. Stranger things have happened, of course. But even if it does, how do I know I can even perform at that level?
I throw the bottle against the back of my locker. It drops onto the floor, spilling liquid everywhere.
CREW
It’s strange having clean towels in my bathroom cabinet. I always kept the laundry done, but never bothered to keep more than a couple of towels in the bathroom. I’d just use one and hang it on the back of the door. It’s another change from living with Julia. Another change that doesn’t bother me all that much.
I wrap a fresh towel snugly around my waist and use my hand to clear the moisture from the bathroom mirror. My reflection is peering back at me, calling me out on all the lies I’ve been telling myself.
That things will be okay. That I’ll find a way out of this catastrophe.
The lines around my mouth, the way my shoulders hang. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m trying to play the hero and I haven’t got the first fucking clue where to start. My only hope is a fucking pipe dream, one that I don’t even know will work if it does fucking work.
The lights on my phone flash on the counter. I turned the sound off before I got in; the calls and texts were starting to go haywire. A text from Brett was waiting for me after work with a link to his article. In his favor, and mine, he was as suggestive and dramatic as I’d hoped.
“By all accounts, Crew Gentry should be washed up. A star student of local legend Sal D’Amato, and a wrestling standout at the University of Minnesota, Gentry hasn’t been seen or heard since leaving the mat on a stretcher. That is, until last week.
Waves were made in the MMA community last week after a video popped up online showing Gentry in a fight. The images were grainy but nonetheless impressive. He was explosive and it was so reminiscent of the guy so many of us followed years ago. It made me wonder . . . what’s Gentry up to these days?
When he agreed to meet me, I expected a shell of the person most of us in this community remember. I know the effects time and injury have on a man. And I vividly recall Gentry being carted away from Davidson at Iowa in the NCAA finals. The entire sports world waited to see if he’d survive the spinal cord injury and a collective sigh of relief was heard when we found out he wasn’t paralyzed.
Crew Gentry walked up to me last night and whatever I thought he’d be? He was the exact opposite.
He’s been working the docks for the past few years. He’s strong, fit and, more importantly, still has that twinkle in his eye.