Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Beaumont seals a victory on a last drive from Mack to Tristin on a fade in the corner of the end zone, the hometown kid and the new kid getting the job done. The stands empty, with all the high schoolers rushing onto the field.
When some of the melee has died down, Noah finds us in the stands. Still wearing his headset, he leans over the rail to hug his mother and points up at me. “You see that route?”
“Yep, looked familiar.” Because I ran it. He ran it. Nick remembered.
After making sure every woman in my life has made it to their cars safely, I walk toward mine and even though I know the water tower is closed, I head there. This is tradition and it breaks my heart that someone had to do what they did.
I open the gate and pull my truck through and stop. I don’t have any beer or any glass to throw from the top, but I climb up anyway and look out over the town. The lights from the football field are still on, and I see a line of cars leaving the school.
When the gravel crunches, I have no choice but to wait and see who has followed me here.
“Westbury, you up there?”
Ashford.
I sigh heavily. “Yeah, just reminiscing.”
He climbs up and sets a bag down between us. “I had a feeling you’d be here.” He opens the bag and hands me a cold one.
“Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the past. Watching Mack, it’s like watching Noah and then remembering the way we used to play.”
“I’d give my left nut to have a running back like Mason. I can barely get the kids into the weight room these days.”
“That was such a different time.”
Nick nods. “Mack’s been talking a lot about college ball. He wants to know if you think he’s got a real shot.” He doesn’t look at me. “I told him to ask you himself.”
“Mack knows he can talk to me about anything. Does he still want to be a photographer?”
Nick nods. “I know I’m not supposed to change his mind about a career, but I don’t see how he makes any money doing that. I need to do my own research.”
“Did you know he and Paige talk about going to UNLV?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Las Vegas.”
“Yeah, probably not a great place for kids who grew up in a small town.”
“I’m not allowed to meddle,” I tell him.
“I am.” Nick laughs.
We sit in silence, only speaking when some kids try to park and start a bonfire. Nick takes a lot of pleasure in telling his players to go home.
“I’m going to find out who tagged the water tower,” he says. “And then I’m going to knock heads. Paige is more than Mack’s girlfriend to me, she’s family. I’m not letting this one go.”
I tap my beer to his. “Thanks, that means a lot.”
We finish his six-pack and climb down. As we walk to our respective trucks, I say, “Do you ever think back and wonder how things could’ve been different?”
Nick nods. “All the time, but then where would we be now?”
That’s what I don’t know, and I need to stop wondering. My life is the way it is because of the decisions I made.
TWENTY-ONE
Ever since I gave the green light to expand, the contractors Bex hired have wasted little time getting to work. It helps that it’s fall, almost winter, and jobs are scarce. Everyone wants to work, especially with the holidays approaching.
It’s wild to think how months ago, Bex came to me with an idea. One I shot down instantly. I didn’t think we’d last a week, and now the show has outgrown the little studio I started mostly to give Elle a place to work with her artists.
Now I sit at a board that cost more than I’m willing to admit. Faders that glow. Channels I’ll never touch or know what they do. So much of this is out of my realm of knowledge but needed for when 4225 West’s station goes live. Me, Harrison, and JD won’t be the only ones in here.
A screen to my left runs the livestream for when Paige isn’t working. The other DJs will be able to access our new social accounts with the push of a button. Paige says it’s needed and that we don’t want the spotlight to only be on me.
There’s a second screen for the callers. Bex screens them on her side of the production booth, same as she always has, and now whatever she pulls comes up in front of me too. A name. A town. A line about the trouble. So, I know who’s coming before I punch the line. This will help us communicate more easily and faster.
The sound is something else. Everyone comes through crystal clear, even when they have noise in the background. Bex knows her stuff and I’m thankful she chose me to be her test subject.