Page 107 of Sacrifice
“They already win,” I roar. “I had to call Julia and listen to her cry today. I had to tell her it’s going to be okay when she takes her sick kid home later on and I’m not there because I’m here, fucking using her situation, splashing her business all over the fucking media.”
“This situation blows. I get it. I do. But, man, look at it this way: maybe this will get people to donate. Maybe this willhelpthem.”
I pace a circle, untucking my black dress shirt. Fuck appearances. “Just go out there and say what you want. Don’t say what you don’t want. But stay fucking calm. Hunter’s gonna try to get under your skin. You know this. So be prepared.”
I laugh and watch Sal toss his cup in the trash. “I want to break his face on any given day. How do I stay calm when he’s across the table from me, asking me to fuck him up?”
Will laughs and shrugs. “Pretend you aren’t you, I guess.”
Sal walks towards me, his face stern. “You have a few weeks ’til the fight, Gentry. Your sidekick here is right. Davidson is going to try to work you up. That’s why we’re here, to some extent. You know that. Play with it, try to have some fun with it. Use this to your advantage.”
“What if I just smash him in the face?”
“Then I’ll jump across the men with pens and start throwing. I’ve got your back.”
“Don’t encourage him, Will,” Sal barks.
“Be ready to bang.” I wink at Will.
“If you don’t fucking stop, Davidson won’t have a chance to kickbothyour asses because I will,” Sal says, popping open the door. “It’s showtime.”
* * *
CREW
I didn’t knowcameras still clicked.
I walk up the steps and onto the stage. A long table is set up along the edge, a podium separating the two sides. Journalists and members of the media are sitting in folding chairs facing the man standing at the podium. I take the last step and make eye contact with Hunter Davidson coming up the other side.
Suddenly, this room doesn’t seem big enough for both of us.
He smirks, his surfer-boy blond hair sticking up every which way.
I want to rip him apart right now. And he hasn’t even said anything yet.
Sal and Will are sitting in the front row, facing the seat I pull out.
Coach gives me a look, obviously noticing I’m ready to rock. He points to his head, mouthing, “Use it.”
I grab a seat as Kyle French taps the mic. He’s the face of the NAFL, a slightly overweight former fighter turned mouthpiece, a guy who, quite frankly, couldn’t walk the fucking walk.
“On behalf of the NAFL, I want to thank you all for being here today. We’re so excited about this card coming your way on July 13th.”
The journalists’ cameras click. The lights above us are hot, the air is thick, and the room is filled to capacity.
“Not only are you getting the title fight between Deacon Love and Mario Brusci, you’ll see two old enemies go head-to-head in the form of Hunter Davidson and Crew Gentry. It’s going to be an amazing night.”
Kyle glances at Hunter, then me, and then turns back to the crowd. “All right. Let’s get down to business. This is gonna be one helluva fight. On this hand, we have Hunter who has been tearin’ up everyone we’ve thrown at him since his debut. No one’s made it through the second round against this animal. On this hand, we have Crew Gentry, a kid that owns the only blemish on Hunter’s record. Tickets go on sale today for this card and I suggest you get them quick. This fight alone will be worth it,” he says. “Now let’s open the floor to your questions! Media, raise your hand and we’ll send someone out with a mic.”
I keep my eyes focused on the back wall and try not to buy into the chaos surrounding me. Hunter is pulling some antics on the other side because I see heads turning towards him and laughter erupts.
Focus.
“Bob from The Gazette. Kyle, this fight is replacing the one that was supposed to happen between Davidson and Reyes. What made the NAFL decide to replace Reyes with Gentry?”
I look at Kyle. He’s shifting from one foot to another like he’s jacked the fuck up. “Well, to be honest, there wasn’t anyone left in this division that would be an interesting fight. Davidson’s pretty much cleaned out this division and his camp didn’t want to wait the nine, ten months to see him fight again. When Gentry resurfaced”—he grins—“well, there’s not an empty seat in the house tonight.”
Laughter ensues.
