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Chapter 32
Dylan
Three months since the funeral. Three months since we last heard from or saw Julia. I was angry then, my ego thoroughly bruised.
Now all I felt was regret.
If I had a time machine, I would have gone back.
I would have forgiven her and asked her to come back to us, assured her that everything was going to be fine and that things would go back to the way they were.
Not a day went by that I didn’t want to kick myself for letting my anger and disappointment get the better of me. I was speaking from a place of truth, of honesty, but hindsight was twenty-twenty. If I had the chance to do things over, I would.
The whole Yelp review fiasco eventually sorted itself out. All the negative reviews that had nothing to do with the actual business were removed and flagged as spam. Reporters eventually stopped calling in, freeing up the lines for customers who were actually interested in renting from Callaghan Campers.
Patrick, our appointed miracle worker, managed to get our assault charges dropped. There was plenty of video and photo evidence showing that Bob instigated the fight. The police were especially interested to follow up on his numerous phone calls with the press, threatening to charge him with the harassment of private citizens and conspiracy to rig bets on his fighter’s matches.
Cash’s knee recovery was coming along. His spirits, on the other hand, not so much. I could tell how much he missed Julia. We all did, but she made her choice.
All we could do now was respect her decision and try to move on. The key word here wastry.
It took a while for the stares to stop. The first few weeks back in Sunville, it was all anybody could do. Gawking at us at the grocery store, at the coffee shop, whispering behind our backs when we were doing something as simple as going for a stroll.
“Ignore them,” Levi would tell me when we dropped into Irene’s restaurant. “Small minds have nothing better to do than gossip.”
“It’ll pass soon,” Brody assured.
“And if it doesn’t, I’ll beat everyone up,” Clay offered.
Boone snorted. “You will do no such thing.”
Eventually, though, we became old news. People moved on with their lives, latching onto newer, more enthralling scandals.
It wasn’t long before people forgot about us entirely, but the damage was done. Despite their manager’s best efforts, potential sponsors didn’t want to come anywhere near Cash and Red. Without the income from sponsorships or a fight series contract, they would either have to find a way to raise the money themselves, or quit completely.
Red got a job at Old Marty’s gym as an instructor. He didn’t seem to enjoy being a teacher as much as he did a fighter, but at least it paid the bills. He came home most nights bushed, too tired to even utter hello.
I helped Cash get a job at Callaghan Campers answering phones. He was able to get around on his crutches, but there was no way he’d be able to help my brothers and me out in the lot doing maintenance. He was charming enough to handle even the most difficult of customers, capable of cracking jokes while efficiently booking appointments and confirming add-on services.
Cash had a real knack for the work, though I could see straight through him. It wasn’t what he wanted to do. J ust what he had to endure.
If that isn’t life in a nutshell, I don’t know what is.
My phone pinged with a text from my old pen pal. We hadn’t spoken in what felt like ages.
Hey.
Hey! Long time no chat. How’ve you been?
Yeah, sorry. It’s been kind of nuts for me the last little while.
I know what you mean. Life’s been crazy for me, too.
What have you been up to?
Just started a new job. Well, technically I’m working for myself, but I think it counts. What about you?
Just got through a rough breakup. But it’s great that you’re working for yourself! No boss breathing down your neck and you get to set your own hours. Must be pretty cool.
