Page 72 of Sacrifice
“It was nice talking to you, too, Macie.”
She smiles and heads out, leaving me with slightly happier spirits than when she arrived.
TWENTY-EIGHT
CREW
I slide into the cab of my truck and toss my bag in beside me. Before starting the engine, I turn on my phone to see if Julia has texted me. Every time I check it, I have a shit ton of missed calls and voicemails from people that have seen the interview on the news or the web somewhere. It would be completely entertaining if the circumstances were different. I’d be eating this up, but there’s too much attached to it now. I scroll through six messages before I find Jules’s name.
Julia: Port is in. She’s sleepy but doing well. She’s asking for you and I told her you’d try to come by tonight.
I start to respond when it vibrates in my hand. I don’t know the number.
“Hello?”
“Is this Crew Gentry?”
“Yeah. Who is this?”
“Good evening, Crew. This is Don Wetzel with the NAFL.”
My mouth goes dry. I remember this guy. He’s the guy that I talked to my senior year at Minnesota. He’s the one that approached me about joining their organization.
It fucking worked.
It.
Fucking.
Worked.
“You don’t happen to remember me, do you?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say and clear my throat. “What can I do for you?”
He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure you know why I’m calling.”
“Humor me.”
“Very well. We had a fight lined up in less than three months for your old buddy Hunter Davidson. You might know a little something about that.”
It’s my turn to laugh, but I’m not about to show my hand too early. “Maybe.”
“Well, it seems a certain bar fight and interview have put you back in the spotlight.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He pauses. “How’s your health these days?”
“I’m workin’ the docks. What’s that tell you?”
“Look, Crew. I almost didn’t call you about this . . .” He sighs into the line and my heartbeat quickens. “Davidson’s opponent dropped out, which I know you know. Your . . . demonstration last week and the discussion with the television station has fueled Davidson’s camp. I’m just going to be honest with you here. Davidson’s making himself known as a helluva fighter. He’s ending his fights in dramatic fashion. With Reyes dropping out, he’d have to fight either Patterson or Hickman and he’d have to go to all the way up to 205 to do that.”
“They’d destroy him,” I interject.
“Possibly. But this is a business decision and everyone is chattering about you, Mr. Gentry. Davidson’s camp is looking at this as a big PR move. They can clear up his record and they think he’ll end you in a very flamboyant way. I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Cut to the chase, Wetzel.” I drum my fingertips on the steering wheel, my knee bouncing up and down.
