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Lisa had unpacked a few things, was on the other side of the frosted bathroom door. She was crying and running her bathwater. Or crying and plotting. I wasn’t sure what she was doing. I was waiting to find out. I sat on the far side of the bed, on the edge, my eye on the bathroom door, my mind on the man I had chased, And Arizona. The fedEx box was in front of me. Still unopened. My gun was on the floor, at my feet. Just in case The room smelled like jasmine, Lisa’s scent, the aroma of purity and deception. Empty sushi plates were on a tray we’d left on the floor near the door. I had a small glass of sake on the nightstand, and Lisa had taken the rest of the bottle into the bathroom with her. The fish smell might permeate the room, so I got up long enough to leave the tray in the hallway. Then I called room service to come get the tray before the hall smelled like sushi. I stumbled over a suitcase. The room had become an obstacle course. Lisa’s luggage and backpack took up most of the space. Almost two in the morning, Nine PM on the East Coast. Six on the West. The TV was on the news. First the never-ending talk about the WAG, and about a man losing his championship. My ego was hurt That bothered me. Not being able to beat Dom, scared me Not much has scared me over the years, but this had me opening and closing my hands I clenched my teeth That report was followed by news about the demise of F1X. I had big dreams about F1X, with Drew and myself I turned the TV off, was only so much of that shit I could take. I opened the FedEx box. Saw pictures of two people. One of an overweight man, a local. This contract came in from Texas. Had nothing to do with Arizona. The other contract was Amsterdam. Those images kept my eye. Several pictures of a beautiful young women Her name was Sierra Sierra was Arizona’s younger sister My mouth dropped open Arizona had sent me a package on her little sister. The package said Sierra was living and working out of Holland. The men who came to cripple and rape Arizona were from Holland I tried to remember what Sergeant Bucky had said It wasn’t too hard to connect the dots Arizona’s sister was in bed with Sergeant as well. Both were in on the FEMA scam. Shit went bad, Arizona wanted her cut. Sergeant refused. Sierra had supplied the brawn to damage Arizona and take her out of the business. Sierra had sent men to do major damage to Arizona Un-fucking-believable Sierra was working in Holland I stared in her eyes like I was staring inside another ancient memory. She looked like the girl I had visited. The girl from window 693 I put her picture down This shit was too deep A new SIM card was inside the box. I put my SIM card inside my mobile, turned it on. One number already programmed into the memory. Programmed without a name, Arizona’s contact number. After the shit we just went through, she had the nerve to drop this shit off at my hotel I pulled up her number, had my finger over the SEND key. Arizona knew this would fuck me up. That’s why she didn’t tell me. She sent me a fucking package. I put the mobile away. Sipped my sake. Took a deep breath. Again I stared at the picture of Arizona’s younger sister Sierra was the spitting image of her older sister, only slightly darker, her body a bit fuller. Arizona wanted her younger sister dead Still found it hard to believe Sierra had supplied the men who came after Arizona. I wanted to chastise them both. But that would make me hypocritical. I wanted Joyellen in the same state. I whispered, The pot calls the kettle black My mind shifted Went to a dark place Thought about Joy My mind was on fire, each thought like gasoline being thrown on flames I wanted to be alone right now. Needed to be alone so I could think. Needed to sip on sake and so some reevaluation I looked at the luggage in the room. Two hundred pounds of somebody else’s problems. Too late for that. Too late to be alone. Lisa’s suitcases and backpack were in front of me. One was open, one wasn’t. One was turned upside down, harder to get to. I crept to the one that was right side up and open, most of its contents already taken out. What was packed wasn’t folded, just tossed in, like she had left home in a hurry. Lisa was not a neat freak, not at all. She had already turned my room into a pigpen. With easy movement, I looked through her things, felt around for anything suspicious. Lisa had been gone for hours. She could’ve picked up anything since she made it to London. I searched. She had more lingerie than any one women should be allowed to own, enough sexy gear to let me know that she had planned to spend a lot of bedroom time with her boyfriend. Lots of shoes, Dresses, Jeans, workout clothes, Two new vibrators, one black and the other pink, both went about five inches long. I moved all of that stuff aside and found what I was looking for. First, inside her wallet, was a picture of her and her boyfriend, then next to the DVD, I found an old theatrical playbill from Rent stuffed inside her backpack. It was a program from when he was touring with the production back in the states. I was searching for information on the man who had shattered her heart, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t part of something larger. Outside of having two vibrators and a clit stimulator, nothing looked suspicious No weapons, No multiple passports No reason to take her down and leave her rotting in a mews out in horse-and-grass I put everything back the way I found it. The vibrators. Two of them. Those were her weapons. Unless she was planning to torture me West Hollywood style, what she was carrying was harmless. Two colorful vibrators I chuckled I wondered if she took both of her vibrators at the same time. I gathered up everything I had taken from the FedEx box, then went to the room safe. Each room had one hidden away from plain sight. I read the instructions and reprogrammed the safe with a new pass code, then tucked everything from the FedEx box inside, locked it away. Lisa was singing another song, something about going out tonight. Sounded like she was howling part of the song. She was all into the tune. Those almost made me laugh. Then I was glad Lisa was here. It was awkward, but it was nice chilling with a square. Sergeant had said men like us shouldn’t become personal with the women in our business I’d put myself in the middle of shit between Arizona and her sibling, a problem that involved Sergeant. Had to be bad if her sister had sent men to do things worse than death I regretted that contact on Sergeant. Wished I’d taken his offer before he sipped his Jack. Wished I was ready to be a worthy Champion A worthy King…But I wasn’t ready I wished I’d taken his Jack and drink one, then apologize and pour one on the ground. Sergeant was right. I should take his advice, retire to a tropical island, find a pretty woman, maybe have some babies, get out of this business before it killed me. It had killed him. Just like it had killed a lot of us. Scamz had been gunned down in a pool hall, The Reverend gun down in his home. I couldn’t count or remember the number of people who had been assassinated in between I’d been followed like it was the prelude to my demise I sipped more sake. Looked at the clock Almost two thirty. Barely dinnertime back in the States. I lay across the sofa, TV on, BBC news showing another terrorist bombing that had blown up some shit. It was like the universe was sending me a message. Now I was nervous. Imagined getting blown into a thousand little pieces. I closed my eyes Focused on my breathing Relaxed Let the Sake take me into a peaceful darkness Then came the dream. I knew the dream would come again, like it did on the plane I was back in the Reverend’s home His body laying at my feet The stenches of Chinese food making me want to puke… - [ * * * ] – A lot of things have been going through my mind as of late. I can’t help it. When 1NE came to a close and I walked out of the arena without the NLCW championship, without a victory against Dom, I started to take key to his words. The same words that Chris spoke upon early this week Maybe I’ve been given the green light a little too fast here in NLCW. Maybe I was tossed into the spotlight a little prematurely. And after 1NE I would totally agree with both Dom and Chris. I was handed a spot that really should have belonged to someone better. I totally understand this, and I accept this. I just want to know who’s at fault for it all? I was given the push because there was no one left around the locker room. Everyone left. The Original talent Chris and Dom and everyone else who steps in the ring against me talk about left NLCW to die. Guys like Dillion Durst, Sean Galen, Bucky Skyler, Isaac Reynolds all of these guys left NLCW. They wanted NLCW to die. Chris Champion left. I didn’t leave, there were weeks when I was the only guy welling to go out and perform for the handful of loyal fans. There were weeks when I didn’t collect a pay check. There were weeks I wasn’t even sure there would be another show. I could’ve followed some of the hall of famers, I could have gone elsewhere. But I didn’t I did my job. I gave Dade hope. I was the life-support of NLCW. I was here when the ratings were in the shitter. I didn’t come along on the rebound. I didn’t wait for people to become active again before returning. I didn’t wait for a championship handout to return. That spot belonged to the Originals Guys like Bucky, Chris, and Jackson You see Chris, you have it all wrong, I’m not the reason for shit ratings, I’m not the one to blame for fucking up what your memories of this place are. That belongs to you. You can point the finger at the new blood all you want, all you’re really doing is trying to pass off the blame. It’s the popular trend of you old dogs The trend of you fella’s jocking for something you once had….Attention. This is what I figured out. Let’s look at the returning of the Old Guard. Men who want attention in some sort. They are all people who have succeeded a long time ago, but left when there fame left, or left because of politics that never really leave professional wrestling. But once they’re gone, what’s left for them? Nothing! SO what do they do? They return, make dream matches out of rematches. They use the thing that gives shock and awe so people will try and pay attention to them. They need and desire attention all the time and when the attention isn’t on them they start to freak. They then do more things to get attention and the vicious cycle continues. It’s a very vicious cycle. The thing about attention, though, is that you can have too much. Once you have too much attention things start to get boring. They become the same thing over and over again. The whole Storyline out of Crank? Now that’s Cliché Chris. The paint is starting to peel, kids, and it’s only a matter of time before NLCW needs to be repainted with a new coat. You aren’t rising anymore. You’re just falling. When you hit the ground you’re not going to have anything to brace yourself. Your legs will break and your egos will be shattered. Nothing will save you. That’s when I come and rip you limb from limb and I start painting NLCW with a fresh coat. I’ll paint it red. Chris you want to make everyone believe that the saying “out with the new, and in with the old” is in effect. When the Old is utter shit then how do we believe that? We can’t. We can’t rely on returning ingrates to ‘protect’ us. It’s not possible. Why? Because you’re not really protecting us from anything. All you’re doing is falling into the stereotype that wrestlers can never stop wrestling. Chris you’re slowly becoming the Hacksaw of NLCW. This isn’t your world anymore Chris. It’s mine. And as much as you want to try and convince yourself it isn’t… it is. You know it, I know it, and the world knows it. Why else wrestle until you die? Why else make the fact that you’re dying public, we can all see the outcome, win or lose against Dom, I bet the world it’s the last time we see Chris Champion. Your whole return is leading up to a bigger exit Chris, Avulsion the old Guard will come out and move forward to the curtain call, and I will be there to meet you. When the dust settles, only one will remain standing. Who he represents and what he believes will become the emperors and ideologies of a new age in NLCW And if history teaches us anything, it’s that these type of battles will inevitably end in blood. I will take everything you hold dear and strip it away from you. And I will strike the Old guard down like the wild animal this metaphor really is It is what it is, and NLCW will not experience a changing of the guard – they will simply experience the absence of any guard at all. And that’s when things will truly get chaotic. -- That’s a Wrap! -- |