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)
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.
TWENTY-NINE
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, whereas you rarely 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 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.