Page 32 of Sacrifice
“Fair enough.”
We watch each other, a million things being said between our gazes. I know he won’t say them out loud, just like I won’t. No need to taint the air with more venom. At least I can count on him for that.
“You don’t need a ride tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “No. We have to be there early, anyway.”
“Will ya at least call me and tell me what they say? It’s at Children’s, right?”
I nod.
He heads for the door and a bubble of panic twists through me. His hand is on the knob when I say his name.
He turns to face me, the toothpick back in his mouth. He takes it out and says, “Yeah?”
My mouth goes dry. I don’t know what I want to say. I don’t even know why I called to him. My mind is churning like a storm and I can’t seem to find an anchor in the middle of it.
“Thanks for coming by,” I say finally, giving him a true smile for the first time in years.
He nods and gives me a crooked grin, the toothpick going back between his lips. “Let me know if you need anything.”
And he’s gone.
TWELVE
CREW
I hate fucking traffic. I honestly believe I was supposed to be born on a farm somewhere in the middle of Illinois or something. I hate the rush to get shit done, the battle to make a left-hand turn before getting smashed in the side by some cocksucker in a hybrid.
I pull into the hospital parking garage and make my way to an open spot. I find one and pull in as my phone starts to ring.
“Yeah?” I ask, cutting the engine.
“Where the fuck are you?”
I hear the guys shouting in the background, the sound of the cranes squealing in the distance. “At the hospital.”
“Ah, so you aren’t coming in today?” Will asks.
I grab the bag from the passenger’s seat and get out and lock up. “No, I called the boss. I just think . . . you know . . . I should . . .”
“Yeah, I feel ya. Probably a good call. But I wanted to tell ya something.”
I can hear a bite of excitement in his voice and that worries me. Will gets excited over stupid shit and I’m not in the mood to hear about how round the chick’s tits were the night before.
“I was online this morning and someone uploaded your fight from the bar onto The MMA Forum,” Will says. “Dude, you should see yourself. Fuckin’ beast!”
“What the hell you talking about?”
“The fight Friday night. Remember? Shenanigan’s? Yahtzee?”
“Someone recorded it and uploaded it?”
“Yeah. Had to be Adam or Dane, I guess. But that’s not the point. The point is you look awesome. It’s being shared everywhere. That video is goingviral.”
“Why? It’s a bar fight,” I say blandly. “There are bar fights every day.”
He laughs wildly. “That was no bar fight, bro. That was a wicked pissah of a fight. And,” he says, pausing for effect, “it’s called ‘Crew Gentry— The Only Guy To Beat Hunter Davidson.’”
