Colt Crawford - Chapter 7 (Wednesday)

Creighton had been in the hospital for two full days and was ready to get out. It had not been the way he had planned to spend his weekend, although, he did admit to himself that the hospital was a better alternative than his original weekend plan. He carefully pulled the I.V. from his arm and found his clothes wadded up in a small plastic bag in the closet.

Given the failed attempt at suicide, the baggage that he had created over the past year was weighing heavily on him. Had it really been a year already? How could things have gotten so bad in such a short amount of time? Only one year ago he had been living a comfortable life with little stress and a good job. Now the debt he faced consumed his every waking minute. The fear that accompanied that debt kept him awake at night and eagerly stole any remaining quality from his life.

What had he gotten from all of this? He had no new possessions to show for it, only stress and fear. His girlfriend was almost killed because of his selfishness. He had even tried to kill himself. All Creighton knew was that his life was spinning out of control. He had to get back on top and the only way he knew how was the same way that had brought him down.

The phone number for a new bookie was on his dresser at home. His friend had assured him that the guy was good and a big pay out was within reach. The BCS championship game was coming in only 2 more days. If he played his cards right, this little football game could be his ticket out of this pain - a ticket back to a normal life. If he played it wrong, he had one more bottle of pills.

Creighton became consumed with getting home. He had to get the number for the bookie and make the call. His old agent would never take his bet. He was in too deep. Creighton needed a fresh start and this was his only shot. With his clothes back on, he turned toward the door and walked out of the hospital a free man. And no one even saw him going.

Since he had arrived in the back of an ambulance, he had to find a cab outside the hospital to take him home. L.A. has its fair share of cabs, but it’s not New York. With no leads in sight, Creighton whipped out his cell phone and made a quick call. Six minutes later, a yellow car pulled up in front of him and he climbed in.

Once he was safely at home, Creighton Ford went into his bedroom and found the phone number he needed. With a deep breath and pounding heart he dialed the number, knowing he could be making a fatal mistake, but what other choice did he have? The only thing that could guarantee Samantha’s safety was to pay what he owed. He had been given until Friday. The warning had been perfectly clear. If things weren’t squared up by then, Samantha had seen her last weekend. The phone rang three times before someone answered it. Creighton told the mysterious voice where he had gotten the number and what he wanted to do. With trembling hands, he hung up the phone and waited until the big game on Tuesday night was over.