Page 54 of Sacrifice
I push out the realization that if I don’t control this one, other, more important ones, are gonna be outta reach.
“Your background is wrestling,” Chuck points out. “But you clearly know how to throw a punch. Ever think about joining the NAFL now?”
“Nah, not really.”
“There’s a lot of talk about you coming in. You fought at the 185-pound weight class in college,” Chuck remarks. “That’s an exciting division right now. There’s a lot of speculation about how things will go down in there.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. I try to appear bored, like I don’t give a fuck, but it’s all I can do not to just blurt out what I need to happen.
Stay calm, Crew.
“Since you’re so disconnected from things nowadays,” Brett says, “I’ll catch you up on a few things. There was supposed to be a big fight in Boston in a couple of months. A middleweight named Reyes was supposed to take on the man of the hour, the undefeated Hunter Davidson.”
I chuckle. “Undefeated? Nah, I believe I’m one to zero against him.”
Brett’s eyes light up and he shuffles in his seat. “That was a long time ago . . .”
I know he’s fucking with me, wanting me to take the bait. But he’s just laid his hand wide open and I’m seeing fucking spades.
“Pretty sure I had no problem handling him.” I laugh through semi-gritted teeth.
“There’s a camp of people,” Chuck says, watching me carefully, “that don’t appreciate his showmanship.”
“You mean people don’t like the fact that he’s a cocksucker? Go figure.”
Chuck laughs. “Apparently. And those people have proposed the idea of you taking Reyes’s place. Taking on Hunter Davidson right here in Boston.” He plays with his camera, a grin on his face. “I’d say that’s crazy, tossing a guy in the cage that hasn’t fought in years. A guy whose last fight ended with a stretcher.”
Chuck’s eyes glimmer. He’s much better at this game than Brett. “But I saw your fight,” he continues. “So I’m solidly in that camp. I’d love to see it happen.”
I wrap my hands around the sides of my chair, squeezing it to release some frustration. I know I have to stay calm, and make this seem like all their idea. I gotta come across as indifferent. Confident. I can’t blow this now.
“I follow MMA a little bit and Davidson’s career is on the right path. I’m pretty fucking sure his people aren’t going to want to put him back on the mat with a guy that has already proven he can kick his ass. I’ve got that punk’s number and beating him in front of the world would destroy his career; they aren’t stupid.”
“So, hypothetically speaking of course, you’d be willing to fight Davidson again?”
“If Davidson wants to ruin his career, I’m more than happy to do that for him.”
I push back from the table, my hands shaking from the adrenaline. “Is that all you guys have to discuss?”
“It is,” Brett says excitedly. “Can we snap a picture real quick?”
I stand and Brett walks around the table. Chuck snaps a couple of pics and then shakes my hand.
“Where can we get a hold of you?” Brett asks. I jot down my number on a napkin and hand it to him.
“All right, guys. I’m outta here.” I nod and turn to leave. Will is sitting at the bar, talking to Jordyn. He grins and I turn back around.
“Hey, Wiskin?”
“Yeah?”
“Make that conversation on the record.”
TWENTY-ONE
CREW
I’ve replayed the conversation a million ways on my way home. My head is pounding, the back of my neck aching like it does when adrenaline wears off. It’s almost like a hangover. I’m hoping some clarity will come; a moment when I’ll feel like something I’m fucking doing is the right thing.
