Grounded (Out of the Box Book 4) Read Free Page B

followed where he was looking and got blasted by a thousand flashbulbs. I wondered how he saw through things like this. “Smile through the searing pain on your eyeballs, Augustus. You’re doing great.”
    I spent a moment trying to decode that remark. Was he talking about my job performance? Or my ability to smile wide while the cameras were snapping away? Because I’d been waiting for this moment my whole life. I always dreamed it was gonna come in a football locker room when I was younger, and when that passed, I thought maybe by me inventing something, and finally settled on the day I stood before a bunch of cameras to announce all the amazing things I was going to do for my town, to make my city proud through my own business—
    “Keep smiling, son.” The low, deep voice of Cordell Weldon was unmistakable. I’d heard the man speak at dedications to parks, at school events, at my high school graduation—I’d shaken hands with him that day, waving my diploma up at my mom up in the bleachers. “You’re a natural.” The man breathed inspiration and encouragement. He and Cavanagh were like my binary universe—black and white inspiration all in one.
    I realized at this point they were talking so low the cameras and reporters couldn’t hear them. “This is Augustus Coleman,” Cavanagh said, raising his voice and surprising the hell out of me. I’d thought this was a photo op, something to make him and Weldon look good in the papers, taking pictures with nameless line workers. “He’s one of our success stories since opening the plant here—a young man with a bright future, on track for management. Without people like him, and the countless workers we’ve hired, we couldn’t be doing what we’re doing here—plowing ahead with projects that will reshape the country, the world, and revitalize the area.” Cavanagh pumped up. “And if weren’t for my friend Cordell and his efforts,” he reached across and punched Mr. Weldon in the shoulder, leaning across my body to do so—oh, dear Jesus, “I think we would have ended up setting up in Florida or Texas instead. Which goes to show you how much of an impact one man of real influence can have on a community.”
    There was applause from the press, and it was more than polite, it was nearly deafening. I was just standing there in the middle of it all, swept up by the feeling in the epicenter. It was like a nuclear blast went off, and I was a feather blowing on the currents above, untouched by the fire and heat. I knew I had a grin on my face because I saw it in the paper the next day.
    “Keep up the great work,” Cavanagh said as he smiled at me one last time and gave my hand one last pump.
    “I’m expecting big things from you, son,” Cordell Weldon said as he grabbed my shoulder with strong fingers and squeezed it again, his face letting just a hint of smile through his normal mask of seriousness.
    And I just stood there as they moved on, the flashing lights of the cameras trailing behind them, the crowd like a mob moving with them in lockstep. I felt like I’d been swept up in a tornado and set back down gentle as could be. Like I needed to look down and make sure my clothes were all still intact. I did. They were.
    As the noise subsided, I felt like my heart was glowing in my chest, like it was about to explode. Not in a painful way, but from pride. Pride that all the work I put in that I thought would go unnoticed except by my immediate bosses didn’t. I showed up early, I stayed late, I outworked any other person in that factory as best I could.
    And they noticed .
    The noise of the line came back to me as Cavanagh, Weldon, and the whole media frenzy surrounding them headed off through massive steel doors to another part of the factory. I just stood there like I could see them through the wall, though, just watching like they’d come back and give me another moment in the spotlight.
    “Look at Augustus,” Lawton said from behind me, drawing me