“What’re you doing?” Hunter pokes her head into my office without knocking, scaring the shit out of me. I throw a pen at her.
“Christ, why can’t you knock like everybody else?” I’m already pissy.
“Chill. What’s going on?” She sits down in the guest chair and acts as if I’m not in a foul mood. She’s been extremely considerate toward me since we ended our season. Thankfully, she hasn’t mentioned Kate since we returned.
“They finally posted the grant and I’m reading some back up. It’s weird because there are several chunks missing,” I say.
“Chunks?” Hunter asks.
“Yeah, like complete sections. Important sections. This all seems weird if you ask me,” I say.
“Always the conspiracy theorist,” Hunter says.
“I just don’t like losing.” But it’s more than that. I don’t like losing grants or my heart. “I’ve asked Bob Garner to send me the missing pages. They’re required to make all of the backup public. He said he would look into it and get it to me sometime this week. I just don’t like the way this whole thing went down.”
“Have you heard anything else from any others?” Hunter asks. I’ve kept her in the loop on the different grants and government scholarships I’ve applied for and we’ve celebrated all the ones that have come in, from one hundred dollars to one thousand.
“Not this week, but there are still a few I’m waiting on,” I say. Hunter knows it’s not nearly enough for next season, but it should be enough to at least get us there. “This just sucks. I’m really sorry, Hunter.”
“Stop it. What’s done is done. If there’s anything you need help with, I’m your girl,” she says.
“Thanks, but now it’s just a matter of waiting. There’s nothing else out there. We have a few fall fundraisers coming up this semester, but I don’t know how much that will bring in. Do you know how much I hate waiting?” She smiles at me. We both hate waiting. It’s amazing we are good at our jobs. Most of the time we are driving and waiting.
❖
It takes Bob a week to send me the missing pages. I find it interesting that he’s mailed them to me instead of e-mailing them. That would have been a lot quicker and easier. It’s not until I read through all of the pages that I realize the reason for so much secrecy. One name stands out. I almost missed it, but I’m rather sensitive to the name at the moment and my eyes find it and hold until my brain reads all the words before and after it. Ben Brighten.
“Are you kidding me?” I say. Nobody is around to hear me, but I can’t help but vocalize my disbelief. I dial Hunter.
“What up, dawg?” she asks. She’s so professional.
“You need to come to my office. It’s urgent. You’re not going to believe what I found out.” I hear the click of the phone and I know she’s on her way. Drama always gets Hunter moving. She’s sitting in my guest chair with the door closed within thirty seconds. I hand her the piece of paper after I highlight the name.
“No way,” she says.
I nod at her. “Yep. Daddy helped get the grant.”
“Nobody has that much power, do they?” Apparently, there is more to Ben Brighten than we realized. I was just kidding when I told her he’s probably had people killed. Now, I’m not so sure. He at least has muscles big enough to put the squeeze on some important military people. No wonder Bob didn’t want to e-mail me the pages. Somebody doesn’t want this information to get out. I’m surprised nobody else has questioned it. I know that I’ve been e-mailed by other universities when I was awarded the grant who had tons of questions for me. Nobody has said or posted a word about this. It’s all so weird.
“Well, there’s one way to find out,” Hunter says. I shake my head no. I’m not calling Kate. I’ve found peace in my miserably lonely state and so far it’s working for me.
“I’m just going to work harder and prod people more to give us money, that’s all.” I know we are at the bottom of the barrel. Maybe I need to head out and visit people face to face. It’s harder to say no when I’m right there in front of them.
“Good luck with that,” Hunter says. “I still can’t believe this. We should talk to Bob and ask if we can help him find his balls.” She’s so eloquent.
“It’s probably not Bob’s fault. I’m sure somebody put the squeeze on him. Bob’s in our corner.” I say that with not a lot of conviction. I just don’t know anymore.
“Well, at least we know who we have to fight next year,” Hunter says. “I don’t know that we can, but at least we know.” She gets up and heads out of my office. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask my mom to invite some of her rich, snobby friends to the fundraiser in October. Maybe one of them will write a check.” She gives me an encouraging smile and leaves my office. I’m still stunned. I feel worse than I did when I first found out. That wound is open again, but this time I’ve pushed out most of the emotions. Most, but not all.