Page 114 of Off Court Fix

Puffing his cheeks, Hunter passes the pocket of air between his teeth like he’s swirling mouthwash around his filthy, putrid mouth. He releases his breath and pats my shoulder twice before moving away from the window and back to my desk.

“I have something for her.” It’s then he pulls out a piece of paper and sets it on my desk.

I don’t make my way around to my chair, instead pushing the landline to the side to sit on the desk across from him.

Of all the things I’ve done with Hunter when we were working together, keeping or seeing records was not one of them, so I almost expect that what he’s going to show me is complete and total bullshit.

Until I realize it’s not.

Hunter slams something on my desk. My eyes fall to my side, staring at a thick, full envelope.

“He used to come down to Riverhead every now and then. Not much cash. Disappear for months, reappear again. I knew the guy had problems, always had a bit of the shakes, but he came with cash, and you know, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, right Cros?” Hunter smirks. “Called himselfMax. Drove a vintage blue Ford Bronco, just like whatyourMax talked about. Took me a minute to put two and two together that he was her junkie brother,Mason. Anyway, man never came to collect. Figured he kicked the bucket. Looked strung out most of the time. Shame when that happens.”

I clench my teeth. “Why are you telling me this?” I pick up the envelope. “Why are you giving her this?”

“Well, isn’t she next of kin? I gather the loser didn’t have an estate plan or much of an estate anyway—”

“Hunter—”

“You give that toyourMax and tell her we need a sit-down, just her and me.”

I stand, tossing Hunter the envelope. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Can be on your turf. Lunch downstairs. For fuck’s sake, Crosby, what do you think I’m going to do? Gag her and zip-tie her wrists together?”

The fact that this son of a bitch even speaks that idea into the universe makes me snarl.

“Whatever you want from her, it goes throughmefirst.”

Hunter cocks his head to the side. “I thought her father was the manager here. You’re calling the shots?”

Maxine calls her own shots, but that doesn’t mean my protectiveness over her is going anywhere, especially when it comes to Hunter.

“Write your check to the foundation. She’ll reimburse you. Now get out of my office.”

“What makes you think,” Hunter begins, “I care about a million and a half bucks when your girl could earn me ten times that?”

My chest begins to heave, and it takes every fiber of my being to maintain my composure because this is going exactly in the direction I feared, and I don’t know how to detangle Maxine from the situation when she’s now at the center of the knot.

“I told you already—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hunter holds both hands, wiggling his fingers. “Consider me spooked by the other night. Don’t go near her, breathe near her, yada yada. I’m breathing nearyou. And you, Crosby, aren’t stupid. And neither am I. We both know what you’re going to do.” Finally he stands, leaving the envelope on the chair he vacated and flipping over the paper on my desk. It’s there I see what Hunter wrote.

Round 1. 1-2.

“Let me know when it’s fixed and ready, Crosby. I’ve got people waiting with money to win.”

I don’t watch Hunter as he walks out of my office. My eyes bounce between his note and the envelope and more than a few minutes go by before I snatch them both and return behind my desk, opening a drawer to stuff them in. It’s there I find the business card of Samantha McDonnell, the journalist who cornered me at the bar in Palm Springs. I hear her words loud and clear.

“Well, if you do have a story to tell, I’m ready to listen when you’re prepared to talk.”

I have plenty of stories to tell. But when Samantha’s words are drowned out by Maxine’s from her speech the other night, I realize, so does she.

“I like to think it’s never too late to do the right thing, even when it seems like it’s the wrong time.”

“It’san odd time to mow the lawn,” I call down to Crosby from my balcony, even though he can’t hear me given the engine of the John Deere he sits on.

It’s nearly dusk, and my physiotherapist just left. Crosby spent the entire time she was here outside mowing and, as I see, apparently repotting some of my plants.

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