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)
“Frank with The Tribe. Davidson, what are you looking forward to most about this fight? You’ve already been quoted as saying you think it’s going to be ‘fun.’ Is that what you’re excited about? Or is it clearing your record? Maybe giving the fans something they’ve been demanding for the past few months?”
“Frank, I’m ready for all of it. Getting in the ring is like home to me. The people in this organization, the fans, they’ve all been great to me and just slipping inside the cage is the only place I want to be. Getting to humiliate this guy in the process is the cherry on top.”
“Do you worry that maybe getting in the ring with the one guy that’s beat you is a bad idea?” Jerry asks him. “Have you considered what’ll happen to your career if he beats you again?”
Davidson laughs loudly. “Uh, no. I haven’t. Let’s be real.”
“I like that question, Jerry,” I say, causing the room to erupt.
“Do you think you have the key to stopping him?” someone shouts from across the room.
“I think the past speaks for itself,” I say into the mic. “I have nothing to prove. I’m just going to go out there and do what I know how to do: beat him.”
“I’ve waited for this day for years,” Davidson says, turning in his chair. Kyle steps back so we’re looking directly at each other. It doesn’t get by me that three large men step onto the stage discreetly, there to keep us from ripping into each other right here. “You might have gotten one over on me in our younger years, but I’ll guarantee you I will destroy you. It’s gonna hurt, brother, hurt like a bitch.” He leans towards me and away from the mic. With a lowered voice and a glimmer in his eye, he says, “You’ll be in the ground before your niece.”
I’m off the chair in a flash, sending it barreling back into the table. I lunge at Hunter, blood soaring in my eardrums so loudly that I’m oblivious to the commotion my actions have caused below. He stands and I’m twisting to throw my first punch when I’m grabbed from behind and pulled backwards.
I fight against the security, ripping my arms out of their grasps. I struggle forward, needing to feel his blood on me, when I’m hit with another set of arms around my waist.
“Cool it, Gentry,” one of them whispers in my ear.
“Fuck you,” I bite out, trying to get away.
Davidson is being led off the stage across from me peacefully. He glances over his shoulder and smiles.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” I say, shrugging the guys off me. They let go as Davidson disappears and guide me off the stage.
I hear Kyle tap the mic, settling down the chaos in the chairs below. “Well, if that doesn’t get your blood pumping for this fight, I don’t know what will.”
FORTY-FOUR
CREW
The nurse sidesteps one of the many boxes containing medical supplies that seems to have taken over my house. Boxes of gauze, tubing, antibacterial gel, medical tape, and God knows what else are stacked all over.
She stands next to me and adjusts the straps on her duffle bag hanging off her shoulder. She hands Julia a card. “I’ve taken some blood and her vitals. I’m guessing the doctor’s office will call you in the morning once they get the results.” She smiles sympathetically. “I’m surprised they let her come home yesterday if she was this bad.”
“She wasn’t. She seemed better yesterday,” Jules said, her voice defeated. “She was sick, but today she . . .”
“She had some color to her last night,” I say, pulling Jules into my side. “She ate a little bit. She’s just gone downhill all day. You could just see her getting weaker.”
There’s nothing that will bring you to your knees faster as a man than a sick little girl. You’re supposed to be the man of the family, the protector, the one to make everything okay. Nothing will make you feel more obsolete, worthless, and impotent than watching her look at you and know there’s not a damn thing you can do.
It’s heartbreaking. It’s maddening. It’s infuriating.
“This happens,” the nurse says, turning to me. “Just let her rest tonight. Try to get her to take a drink when she wakes up. If anything happens overnight, take her to the hospital or call us on the 24-hour line and one of us will come by. Actually . . .” She rummages around in her bag and removes a pen. She takes the card from Julia and writes on it before handing it back. “That’s my cell number. I just live a couple of miles from here and can swing by any time.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Julia says, her voice barely above a whisper.