Page 61 of Sacrifice
“What if she doesn’t get in?”
“If she doesn’t get in, we’ll modify our game plan and go with Plan B. I don’t want you to panic over this. I just want you to know where we stand so if you do have resources to fall back on, now would be the time.”
I snort.Who has an extra $50,000 to “fall back on”?
What if we can’t get her into the therapy? What can I possibly do to get that much money?
I know there’s nothing I can do. I don’t have those types of resources. I can’t even dream up a scheme, short of robbing a bank, to get half of that amount.
Crew walks down the hallway outside the door. I hear the floors squeak as he enters the bathroom. I listen to him run water and then the light switch flips off. The floors bend again with his weight and his bedroom door shuts softly down the hallway.
Just knowing he’s close makes me feel marginally better. I know it makes Ever feel better. She’s mentioned a few times that she likes not hearing the neighbors fighting and her little face lights up so brightly when Crew walks in. Aside from making us feel a little safer, I pray that he can finally follow through on a promise and help me figure this out.
“He’ll be there for you … he’ll do what needs to be done. There’s no one in this world who I trust more than Crew to take care of you. He’s my brother. He’s your family.”
TWENTY-THREE
CREW
“Gentry!”
I toss the bag on the dock and turn around. My boss gestures to me and yells, “Take your break.”
I walk across the shipyard. The weather is calm and warm, the last cold front ushered in warmer weather. It’s a near-perfect day and I wish I could appreciate it. But I’m too torn up about Everleigh to enjoy anything. I slept like shit the night before. Too many damn things on my mind.
One thing bled into another and I watched the time switch on my clock. I turned off the alarm before it had a chance to ring.
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’vefiled 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’sstrange 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.
