Page 7 of Brick Wall
Sebastian
“ W e lost a sponsor, but I’m on it,” my sister says as I walk through the office doors.
Shit. Not the way I wanted to start my day.
I own a nonprofit foundation, Good WIN, which focuses on women in need (hence the WIN) in the community. We run a women’s shelter in a large brick building in the South End of Boston, and our foundation office is on the top floor.
My oldest sister, Scarlett, runs the day-to-day operations of the foundation year-round, whereas I’m typically only in the office during the off-season.
We are originally from Northern California, but she moved out here five years ago for a fresh start. We started the foundation together a few months later, but she is basically the brains of the foundation, and I’m the face. We make a good team.
She is the main reason we’ve been able to expand and grow exponentially over the last few years. She is a godsend, and I’m so lucky we get to work on something we are both passionate about.
Our initial and most notable project is the women’s shelter, but we are also branching out to new projects. Our largest fundraiser is a gala that happens soon, before training camp begins, and we recently lost a sponsor of it.
“Shit. Which one?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m on it.”
That would be our biggest sponsor, then. I can cover the financial aspect, but getting community support and resources is helpful. My sister has been networking frequently lately, so I trust she’s on it.
Not even half an hour later, she comes into my desolate office. There’s a bare desk and chair here and a filing cabinet—nothing on the wall and no personal touches either. I don’t spend too much time here, so it’s only the basics.
“Tomorrow at ten, you have a meeting with Ryan and Tristan Moore. I sent the info to your email.”
“You’re the best sister! Thank you!”
“Careful with that praise, or next thing you know, I’ll make you put on that shirt and wear it in front of Livvy,” she teases.
Livvy, also strictly called Olivia by our mother, is our youngest sister.
She is closer to me in age, and truthfully, I’ve always been closer to her.
Scarlett is four years older than me and seven years older than Olivia.
Growing up, Scarlett seemed so much older than us.
She was so mature and less fun, but she was never a mother figure to us either, since she wasn’t really that much older than us.
However, I’ve gotten much closer to my big sister in the last few years, especially since I see her every day during the off-season and a good amount during the in-season, too. I’m grateful that I get to work with her and make a difference in our community.
“If that meeting goes well tomorrow, I’ll buy you the shirt.”
I open the email she sent me and start reading the details.
“Wait, Moore?”
“Yes…” she says hesitantly, like I’m going to drop terrible news on her or kick her puppy.
“Am I meeting with the Moore boys?”
The Moore boys are a group of brothers that are well known in the Boston area.
We share a few of the same friends and contacts, but I have never met them.
They own an elite fitness and training center in Boston and on the South Shore and are also known for their family nonprofit and positive community impact.
“Yes,” she says with a little more confidence. “Well, the two oldest.”
I think all the brothers were athletes, and I know one brother played for the Boston Clovers, the same team their father played on years ago. However, I don’t think any of the brothers played professionally for long, if at all, but I will need to do more research before our meeting.
* * *
The meeting went, well, awesome.
Less than twenty-four hours later, we replaced our previous sponsor with an even better one. I met with Ryan and Tristan Moore from Moore Fitness, and it was a very productive meeting. They signed on to be sponsors quickly .
They are also cool guys. They were younger than I expected and had a lot of innovative ideas for community outreach and support to help our future projects and growth.
The Moore brothers also have a family foundation, the Moore Good Foundation, with their main project being a nonprofit summer camp.
The Moore summer camp is for at-risk youth and is completely free for campers. The summer camp is eight weeks long, with different themes and campers each week. The first week is sports, and I’ll be on board for that week of camp to help coach or “inspire,” as Ryan put it, whatever that means.
It sounds like a no-brainer. I just need to coach football for the first week of their camp in exchange for their help with the gala. I can tell this is the beginning of a great partnership.
The brothers want me to meet them at their summer camp in Plymouth next Saturday. Ryan called it a “brainstorming sesh,” but his older brother mentioned it’s really a barbecue where we meet everyone and get organized for camp.
The only snag is my schedule. It’s hard to be everywhere, do everything, and still be a top athlete. I wish I could clone myself. Sometimes, the off-season doesn’t feel like too much off time. I’m still swamped.
Now, I’ll have even less time to help Scarlett with the gala with this new partnership on the table. I should hire someone to help her; thankfully, I know the perfect person.
“Hello?” My sister Olivia picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, baby sis. How’s everything going?”
“Fine, big brother,” she huffs.
“What are the chances that I can get you to come work at the foundation?” Before she says no, I add, “Just for a few weeks this summer to help Scarlett with the gala planning? ”
I hear some noises in the background, and I picture her outside, walking somewhere to do something.
“Can I get back to you?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll let you know by Sunday.”
“Sure. See you, baby sis.”
“Later, big bro.”
We hang up, and I get back to work.
* * *
I’m on my way to meet the Moore brothers at their summer camp location in Plymouth. The camp doesn’t kick off until the following week, but there’s an “informational barbecue” or something today, plus the brothers are giving me a tour of the place.
I should have taken them up on their offer to drive together, because this camp location is more remote than I expected, deep in a forest I didn’t know existed. I had no idea the South Shore had so many damn trees.
The summer camp is located by a lake that was previously a Boy Scout camp, which makes sense because only an Eagle Scout could find this place. Luckily, I have my GPS, which sometimes works.
After several wrong turns and a few curse words, I spot a homemade sign with an arrow pointing to a narrow dirt path. I turn left and follow the signs down a small knoll that leads to a gravel parking lot.
Ryan Moore is standing in the center of the lot, waving with two hands the moment he spots my truck pulling in.
I take a deep breath before exiting, enjoying the last few minutes of silence.
“Sebastian Goodick!” Ryan Moore greets me using my full name, which is not a unique experience for me. He gives me a weird half hug, tapping me on the back, which is a little unexpected. “You made it.”
“I did. Sorry I’m a little late.”
“Nope, you’re right on time. We usually give the wrong time for first timers to give an extra buffer.”
There are a few cars in the parking lot, but not as many as I figured.
“Let me show you around.” He pats me on the back again.
We walk straight ahead toward a large brown building. Instead of going in, we head to the side of it.
“This is our main building. It’s used for pretty much everything: meals, rainy-day activities, meetings, and more,” Ryan explains. “Not much to see in here right now besides paperwork and boxes. We’ve got a nice setup right this way.” He points upward with his right hand.
We round the corner, and I realize quickly the structure was blocking the best views. The lake is a little larger than I expected and has a lot of white sand that leads up to the water.
There’s a small patio off the backside of the building where Tristan operates the grill, with two large coolers sitting on the concrete nearby.
“Do you want a drink?” Ryan asks me.
“Just water if you have it.” It’s hot out. I can feel sweat soaking through my white T-shirt already. Tristan must overhear because he opens the cooler near his feet and hands me a bottle .
“Thanks,” I say, reaching for it.
Overall, this place is nice. A volleyball net is set up in the sand, and a few people are playing. There’s a large dock where there are two kids fishing. There are a handful of different boats lined up on the shore.
I look out into the water and see a few people swimming. It’s the second weekend in June and it’s finally a nice eighty degrees. Boats are out, too.
I take another glance at the water and notice a bright yellow kayak nearing the shore.
I squint to get a better glance at the kayaker.
I didn’t expect to see someone I knew here besides Ryan and Tristan, but I instantly recognize that face.
Annie.