Page 62 of Sacrifice
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.
I asked him about fighting again. He gave me a fighter’s response and said he wouldn’t turn down a fight. I pressed further, asking if he thought he could take Hunter Davidson again. He was more curious if Hunter Davidson could handle him again.
Before meeting Gentry, I would’ve thought it was crazy to even consider such a thing. But after seeing him, feeling his energy, my money’s on Crew.
Calls and messages are starting to pour in. A good sign in one respect, because it meant the article was being shared and talked about. A bad sign in another because the attention was not from the right people, and it was only adding to the fraying of my nerves.
I see Jordyn’s number and pick it up. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Crew. You home?”
“Yeah. Just got out of the shower.”
“I’m like two streets over. Can I drop by?”
“Nah, ya better not.”
“Okay,” she says. “You coming by the bar tonight?”
“Nope. Listen, things are kinda busy for me right now. So I won’t be around much.”
The line goes quiet for a moment. “Fine. You seeing someone else?”
“It’s not like that.”
“It never is.” She sighs. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Just don’t come chasing me when you’re done with whoever it is.”
“I don’t even chase my fucking liquor, J.”
“Whatever. Bye.”
I end the call and look at myself again. It’s a Friday night. I’ve just turned down free pussy and I’m not going to the bar.
Who the hell am I?
“Crew?” Julia’s says from the other side of the door. Her voice is quiet, tired, but has that underlying edge of determination that it always does.
Hearing her voice saying my name reminds me of the man I was, the man I am, and the man I’m determined to become. She gives me a reason to want to do better.
“Yeah?”
“Dinner’s ready, if you’re hungry.”This is why I’m home right now. For those two girls.
I shake my head at myself in the mirror.
She is a fighter. Take fucking notes.
