ready to make the most of it. The entire flight from Vegas, and the drive through Massachusetts, she’d been practicing her speech. Sometimes she’d even said the words out loud, but mostly she’d just rehearsed it in her head.
Hi, I’m Krista Everett and I work in Fighter Relations for the UFF. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now, but I hope you’ll just take a few minutes of your time to speak with me. After all, it’s my job to help you, Gunner. I really think that if we chat for a little while, we might be able to find some common ground and begin to work through the issues you’re currently having with the UFF. I’m on your side. Just try and trust me.
It sounded good to her. And she meant it. She really did think that Gunner was making a huge mistake, foolishly throwing away everything he’d worked for, and destroying his career and reputation in the process.
Hell, in all likelihood, he would also be sued for breach of contract and end up owing millions of dollars because of the way he’d backed out of the pay-per-view fight on such short notice.
If he listens to me, she thought, then it will change both of our lives for the better.
***
She knew that Middle River was a small town, but she wasn’t prepared for just how small. It was basically one small road in the middle of the woods, and on that same road she saw the tiny little post office, one gas station, a little motel attached to a restaurant (The Middle River Inn, where she had booked a room for one night), and a police station so quaint that it seemed like it could be easily overtaken by a couple of determined old ladies with canes.
But if all went well, Krista thought, she wouldn’t be here very long. A couple of hours and then she’d head right back to the airport, hopefully with Gunner next to her in the passenger seat.
The GPS turned her off of Main Street and onto Red Fern Road. This was a much smaller street, and it began winding through the woods, which were so thick that they’d blotted out the sun and cast everything in shadow. She took her sunglasses off and tossed them to the side, focusing as she began to head at a steeper and steeper incline.
She was only ten minutes away from the address she’d been given, and no idea if it was for sure even the right address. Maybe the UFF had made a mistake, although some said that Drew Ellis, who ran the company, never made a mistake. He was super intelligent and brutally competitive, almost godlike—or at least, Trump-like in the way that his employees seemed to worship his every move.
The GPS turned her off Red Fern road and onto Cleary Lane, which was the street he lived on. Calling it a street was too kind, though. It was barely a path, and the Yukon was almost too big to get through.
Tree branches clawed and scratched at the car, as it continued going up the mountain road.
Krista was gritting her teeth together, eyes wide, breathing heavily as she tried to navigate without getting stuck. There wasn’t any cell service out here, so if she went off the road and couldn’t get back on, there would be little choice but to hike her way out.
She was sweating and anxious by the time she came to the turnoff that the GPS
claimed was Gunner’s driveway.
“You have arrived at your destination,” the computerized voice announced, and yet, all Krista saw was yet another small dirt road leading God only knew where. Still, she had no other choice but to take it, going on faith that she wouldn’t end up in the hands of some hillbilly cannibals. As laughable as that sounded, it was getting less funny all the time.
There was something eerie and frightening about the wooded, mountainous landscape. It was totally different than the flat, arid desert surrounding Las Vegas.
Driving up the new, even narrower, dirt road, Krista craned her neck to try and see a house, something that would tell her a person actually lived here. But she couldn’t see it yet. The road went on and
Hi, I’m Krista Everett and I work in Fighter Relations for the UFF. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now, but I hope you’ll just take a few minutes of your time to speak with me. After all, it’s my job to help you, Gunner. I really think that if we chat for a little while, we might be able to find some common ground and begin to work through the issues you’re currently having with the UFF. I’m on your side. Just try and trust me.
It sounded good to her. And she meant it. She really did think that Gunner was making a huge mistake, foolishly throwing away everything he’d worked for, and destroying his career and reputation in the process.
Hell, in all likelihood, he would also be sued for breach of contract and end up owing millions of dollars because of the way he’d backed out of the pay-per-view fight on such short notice.
If he listens to me, she thought, then it will change both of our lives for the better.
***
She knew that Middle River was a small town, but she wasn’t prepared for just how small. It was basically one small road in the middle of the woods, and on that same road she saw the tiny little post office, one gas station, a little motel attached to a restaurant (The Middle River Inn, where she had booked a room for one night), and a police station so quaint that it seemed like it could be easily overtaken by a couple of determined old ladies with canes.
But if all went well, Krista thought, she wouldn’t be here very long. A couple of hours and then she’d head right back to the airport, hopefully with Gunner next to her in the passenger seat.
The GPS turned her off of Main Street and onto Red Fern Road. This was a much smaller street, and it began winding through the woods, which were so thick that they’d blotted out the sun and cast everything in shadow. She took her sunglasses off and tossed them to the side, focusing as she began to head at a steeper and steeper incline.
She was only ten minutes away from the address she’d been given, and no idea if it was for sure even the right address. Maybe the UFF had made a mistake, although some said that Drew Ellis, who ran the company, never made a mistake. He was super intelligent and brutally competitive, almost godlike—or at least, Trump-like in the way that his employees seemed to worship his every move.
The GPS turned her off Red Fern road and onto Cleary Lane, which was the street he lived on. Calling it a street was too kind, though. It was barely a path, and the Yukon was almost too big to get through.
Tree branches clawed and scratched at the car, as it continued going up the mountain road.
Krista was gritting her teeth together, eyes wide, breathing heavily as she tried to navigate without getting stuck. There wasn’t any cell service out here, so if she went off the road and couldn’t get back on, there would be little choice but to hike her way out.
She was sweating and anxious by the time she came to the turnoff that the GPS
claimed was Gunner’s driveway.
“You have arrived at your destination,” the computerized voice announced, and yet, all Krista saw was yet another small dirt road leading God only knew where. Still, she had no other choice but to take it, going on faith that she wouldn’t end up in the hands of some hillbilly cannibals. As laughable as that sounded, it was getting less funny all the time.
There was something eerie and frightening about the wooded, mountainous landscape. It was totally different than the flat, arid desert surrounding Las Vegas.
Driving up the new, even narrower, dirt road, Krista craned her neck to try and see a house, something that would tell her a person actually lived here. But she couldn’t see it yet. The road went on and
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