Page 27 of Ours to Lose
“I told them I needed to think about it. Look into it more, make sure it was legit. They gave me a few months before they’ll make their offer final.”
I blew out a breath and clasped my hands on my head, the rigid material of Dad’s dress shirt pulling tight beneath my arms.
“I don’t want this place to become some fancy apartments,” Coach said. “You know that. I want you to have it. But I’ve got Cynthia to think about, and if you can’t get the loan…I don’t know if I can pass up this kind of offer.”
“I know. I wouldn’t want you to.”
His voice went hopeful. “We’ve got three months. You get the loan by then, you have my word this place is yours. If not…I’m sorry, Gabe.” The regret in his words reached his eyes, the weight of it hunching his shoulders.
He looked old. Tired like my dad. Worn from the world as much as age. From keeping this place going so long for kids like me. I didn’t want to be one more load he tried to carry.
“I get it, Coach. Really. I appreciate the three months.” I stepped forward and gave him a hug.
He slapped my back. “You can do this. I know you can.” If I didn’t find the money for the down payment, he’d have to say goodbye for good to what had once been his whole life. To what was still mine.
I couldn’t lose boxing. Couldn’t lose this chance to keep it a part of me, to solidify a new place for myself in this community. Already, it was slipping away from me, and I wouldn’t let it. Not after everything I’d lost to get here.
I walked Coach to his car, then returned to the office and sat in the desk chair. Before I could overthink it, I pulled up Diego’s number and dialed.
“How much is the purse for the tournament?” I asked when he answered.
He told me. It wasn’t world-champion money, but it was enough to get me my loan.
“I have a fighter for you,” I said.
“Really? Who?”
The only option I had left. “Me.”
Chapter Six
Aubrey
“The prizes are great,and I can see why she thought it’d be a good opportunity, but there’s no way I can maintain the current event load and come up with a strong enough concept when I don’t even have a team yet,” I said as I loaded the last supply crate into the catering van.
“What are the prizes?” Jase asked through my earbuds. The bridal shower ended thirty minutes ago, and this was the first chance since yesterday’s meeting with Jillian I’d been able to talk to him about it.
I swung the van door shut and climbed into the driver’s seat. “A featured spread inPhiladelphia Food Journal, a hundred thousand dollars, and the opportunity to cater the art museum’s seventy-fifth-anniversary celebration.”
“And the submission deadline is in eight weeks?”
“Yeah.” I pulled the van out of the driveway and onto the road that would take me from Cherry Hill back to Philly.
“You got Jillianed,” he said.
I studied the pavement in front of me as if the solutions I needed would magically appear on the asphalt. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s that thing where she signs us up for stuff she knows we’ll object to without giving us any sort of notice or prior discussion so we have no choice but to pull it off.”
I huffed. “You mean like committing Ardena to catering a massive fundraiser for a local nonprofit when we’d been open less than a year?”
“With an extremely limited team and almost no resources? That’s exactly what I mean.”
Jillian had sprung that one on Jase over the summer, much to his displeasure. I guess the event being wildly successful and the catalyst to the launch of Arden Catering wasn’t exactly a deterrent for her.
And I could see where she was coming from with the competition. If I pulled this off and managed to win, we’d get all the recognition Jillian was eager for and more. It would solidify both Arden Catering and Ardena restaurant as staples in the Philly food scene.
The hundred grand for the business wouldn’t hurt either. If I survived that long.
