Post by badteacher on Aug 6, 2015 18:52:47 GMT -5
"Dean, your bail's been posted!"
Staring down the officer as he approaches, I walk over toward the door of the holding cell. This is the first time I've ever been incarcerated, and I have had the last few days to think about everything. A black skid mark on my otherwise white coat. It's fitting that the numbers on my orange jumpsuit are these colors, because my actions might have cost me dearly depending on your interpretation of black and white.
Lost yet?
Maybe I should start at the beginning.
****
"You're in the finals, babe!" Josh says as we make it back to the locker room. "This is huge!"
"I can't help but feel like I'm dreaming." I say, sitting my belt down on the table. "And I thought End Game couldn't get any better."
"Listen, this is only the beginning."
"Don't you think we need to slow down a bit?"
"I'm not following."
Sitting down in the chair to take off my boots, I remind him. "Nothing is certain."
"I understand that but we've got to set high goals, otherwise we're selling ourselves short."
"I can't look that far ahead though." I say, taking a deep breath. "I still haven't talked to Trace."
"Trace isn't going to be an issue." He says, sitting down beside me. "You've won without communicating, why fix it?"
"Trace only cares about winning Josh."
"I know, we all care about that."
"But with him, it's different." I say, pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol from my bag. "You didn't see the look in his eyes when he hit Ante with that kendo."
"So..."
"I'm scared Josh, what if he decides to use it on me?"
"I don't think Trace is stupid enough to get too far on my bad side." Josh says as he kisses my forehead. "But if he does, he'll be dealt with."
I know Trace came to the office and had a meeting with Josh. The fact he hasn't said much about it tells me that it was either uneventful or uncomfortably tense. They don't like each other, that much is obvious. I know Josh means well to look out for my safety, but what worries me is that Trace could pin any actions against me back to that very conversation or any others they've previously had. For this to work, I need to be in his good graces.
"Can you get me a paper towel?" I ask, pulling an injection needle from my travel kit. "I need to take my medicine."
"I still don't know why you wait until late at night to take it."
"A bunch of medical reasons that Dr. Cabell explained to me when they put the stint in my elbow."
"Give me the short version." He says, handing me a paper towel. "You've probably told me and I've forgotten with all the sh*t going on."
"By the way I understand it, my adrenaline already acts as a thinner." I say, prepping the needle. "But if I take it before my matches and I get cut, I run the risk of bleeding out."
"I guess it is a good thing Trace has come to your aide."
"Why would you think that?"
"If for no other reason, you're a money tree for him."
Josh pauses.
"Think about it, the ladder match got a lot of people talking, and that fight with Kyzer made him look good when he came to your rescue."
"Yet he can't say two words to me?"
"Listen, if there's anything Trace understands, it's drama and money." Josh says, putting his hair up under his hat. "Your run through the tournament gives him both. Now why he can't man up and tell you that to your face is something I'm not going to try and answer. But every pay per view needs intrigue to get people buying."
It makes sense, but then again most of Josh's thoughts on business do. I know I'm not Trace's first choice for a partner, that is if he even wanted to do the tournament in the first place. I have my obligations to the National Title as well, and I know that I've pushed my old friend to the side after spending so much time getting healthy so I could be reunited with it again. My demons, as it were, have been eliminated too and that left me spent.
"Would it be strange if I wasn't very excited for the title match?"
"I know Drakz and Zmey are imposing but..."
"No, I mean I've been in my fair share of championship matches." I say, sticking the needle into my stomach. Josh watches with a grimace, no doubt channeling flashbacks to his match with Phillip Schneider. "I'm comfortable in that situation, but I don't know what to do now that my rivalry with Ante is over."
"You remember when I told you never get personally involved?"
"Yeah."
"Well, there's exceptions to the rule and Ante forced you to get emotionally invested."
"I don't know how much I have left." I say, standing up to discard the needle. "I spent so much energy on him."
"You'll find it." Josh says, kissing my forehead again as I sit down. "This is the first time you've ever experienced an adrenaline dump."
"I think I just need to see the boys."
"We'll fly out in the morning and spend time with them before the pay per view." Josh says, zipping up my bag. "I need to follow up on Dave's case anyway."
"Ok." I say, seeing my cell phone vibrating beside me. I pick it up. "Hello, hi Daddy. Yeah we're about to leave the arena. Oh he did? Ok... Love you too."
I pause for a moment and Josh looks at me.
"Well, I guess Dustin wanted to use his visitation rights."
*****
Dean Residence
Atlanta, Georgia
7-29-2015
"This house feels so empty." I say, pouring a couple mugs of coffee. "Thank you for coming to stay with me while Josh's in Arizona."
"Well, I figured you could use the help without Drake here."
"The help is nice." I say, grabbing the milk from the refrigerator. "I just don't like being alone."
"Have either of them called you today?"
"Josh called me when they got done at the courthouse."
"How'd it go?"
"Dave's in prison."
"I was worried about that." Dad says, scooping sugar into his mug. "You know, Dave's really a good kid."
"Dave's nearing thirty, Daddy."
"Well, I'm sixty two." He chuckles. " You're all kids to me."
"Better than being treated like a prop."
So Drake went down to Macon, and what upsets me the most was that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. He was there, but his excitement overruled my wishes. That's parenthood I guess, sacrificing for another life and I won't change that for anything. I know Dustin did this on purpose so that I couldn't say no or talk Drake out of it. As smart as he is, I wonder how much of this is blind devotion?
A few nights ago, I sat down and watched the Fresh Prince of Bel Air with Josh, and it shocked me how much Will reminds me of Drake in a lot of ways. I empathized with Phillip and Vivian, a working class mentality beneath their upper class exterior. Drake had been with me through some very tough times financially, and like Will, I'm not sure if he knows how to handle having more than he could ever want. I'm hoping his trip to Macon will remind him.
"I know you're upset that Drake decided to go, but that is his father..."
"Being a father and a dad are two different things, you know that."
"Yes it is, but if Drake wants him involved, then give Dustin a chance to be."
"Why, so he can be disappointed again?"
"Unconditional love is not meant to be understood, honey." Dad says, taking a drink from his mug. "Do you think Drake gets what's really going on?"
"No, but I've always protected him from seeing Dustin's true colors."
"I know you have, but maybe you're doing him a favor in the long run by letting him go." Dad says, opening the morning newspaper. "Dustin can't keep the act up for long."
I sigh, staring down at my cup of coffee. "What's worse is that I have quite possibly the toughest match in my career coming up, and it's the last thing on my mind."
"Yeah, I saw you and that Trace fella win your semifinal match." He says before putting on his reading glasses. "You looked really strong in there."
"Is that the first time you've watched my match?"
"No, I've watched all your matches." He begins. "What I mean is that you looked confident in there, like Sabbath and Garrett couldn't touch you. There's no doubt in my mind you're a natural athlete Nikki, but it seems as though you're finally starting to believe what you're saying in those interviews."
"It helps having a former World Champion on my team."
"I'm sure it does, but you would've been fine even if you had another partner."
I might've been, but in looking at the field that has been narrowed down to Drakz, Turgain, Trace, and I, there aren't a whole lot of candidates to replace the mean streak or experience I get with Trace. The only other options I would've felt secure with are ironically the men that stand in front of me and another title, a humorous fact in its own way. Maybe I could appreciate it a more if my personal life weren't in such disarray with this custody appeal, and this where Josh would come in with a pearl of wisdom to help me clear my mind. But I shrugged him away, knowing that Dustin's restraining order would prevent him from getting too involved. I still feel guilty for it, but we both know it's for the best.
"Maybe you're right."
"I know I am." Dad says as he answers his cell phone. "Hello, yeah your momma's right here, hold on."
"Put it on speaker." I say as Dad nods his head. "Hi bubby, what's up?"
"Mom." Drake says with a sob in his voice. "I want to come home."
"What's wrong sweetie?"
"Well, Dad was drinking with his friend Mike last night and... I just want to come home."
"It's ok, I'm leaving the house now."
"Please hurry!"
Dad hangs up the phone and I let out another deep sigh, this time relief. "Come on, let's go get him."
*****
Twin Pines Mobile Home Court
Macon, Georgia
"Open up Dustin!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "This is ridiculous!"
"Mom." Drake says, cracking the door. "You made it."
"Of course honey, you always come first in my life."
"Can we go home?" Drake says, looking over his shoulder. "I really don't want to be here."
"Absolutely, get your stuff packed." I say as Drake turns, and I see the bruises on his face. "Drake, what happened to your eye?"
"It's nothing....I fell."
"Into what, a fist?"
"Uh..."
"Drake Aaron Gillespie, tell me what happened."
"He said he'd never do it again, that he lost his temper for a split second."
"Get your stuff, you will not be staying here any more." I say putting my hands on my hips. "Where's your father?"
"He's been passed out on the couch since this morning."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah." Drake says, looking over his shoulder again. "I'll go get my stuff."
Helpless. That's how I feel seeing my son in the kind of pain he's in. I had a feeling deep in my gut that letting him go to Macon was a mistake, but I didn't think Dustin would stoop as low as he did. With the hearing coming up soon, this is a perfect chance to show a judge the kind of environment Drake's in. A smoking gun as it were, but I need to get pictures first. Drake comes to the front door with his travel bag before slipping out the front door. I pull my camera phone out and begin to snap pictures of his bruised face.
"Ok, lift your shirt up." I say as I take his bag. "I need to see if there's more bruising."
"Mom, he's coming!" Drake says before hiding behind me at the sound of crashing inside the trailer. "We need to go.."
"No honey, you need to take my phone and go to the car." I say, escorting him off the porch. "Have your paw paw drive down the road and call Lucas. I'm putting a stop to this right now."
"Drake, where the f*ck are you.... what the f*ck are you doing here?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I say, leaning away from the smell of alcohol on his breath. "I'm taking my son home."
"The hell you are." He huffs, crossing his arms. "I still have my visitation."
"Not when his safety is compromised." I hiss, standing my ground as he straightens up. "I'm sure a judge will have something to say about the bruises all over his body."
"I didn't f*cking do that!"
"Right, why did he call me wanting to come home, or hide when he heard you staggering around the trailer?"
"The little brat needs to stop telling lies on me, because I'd never lay a finger...
"On him....is that what you were going to say?" I interrupt, calmly moving my hand behind my back. "Just like you said to me all those years ago after you knocked the piss out of me because I caught you up in a lie."
"You had it coming with that mouth of yours, just like some kid is gonna give it to him for his smart ass mouth."
"Yeah, a kid Dustin, not a thirty four year old man."
"My dad rough housed me and I turned out ok." He says, raising his head in an arrogant fashion. "The boy is soft."
"And your way of toughening him up is to tie one on and beat the hell out of him?"
"Better than being stuck to the tit all his life."
I've really been holding my temper with Dustin, knowing that I have solid proof to take to the police. It's in that moment I realized just how much of a sociopath he is, justifying abuse as tough love. My blood is boiling and and my fist are clenched. With the car still in the driveway and Drake looking on, I'm trying to handle it in a peaceful fashion. Unfortunately, I seem to be running out of options.
"No why don't go on and do your little wrestling thing and leave me to visit with my son."
"He's not staying here, and you'll never see him again by the time I'm done."
"Is that a threat?"
"That's a promise." I say as Dustin puffs his chest. "So just stop while you're ahead."
He cocks his fist back, and I see this about to get physical. "Make me."
I can't tell you what happened, except that I blacked out in anger. Judging by the lack of marks on my face, I'd say I channeled a very dark place caused by years of torment from this man. When I finally came to my senses, I was already locked in a cell. The court is going to have a fun time with this one.
*****
Hello, partner." Trace says with a smirk as he greets me at the front desk. "Well, jumpsuits certainly don't flatter you do they."
"What are you doing here, Trace?"
"Nikki, haven't you heard that things get back to me?"
"Yeah, I heard you were big on espionage."
"I'm insulted Nikki." Trace says, putting his arms behind his back. “It makes me wonder why I’m even here right now, spending my own cash to bail you out of this mess you’re in."
"I'm thinking it has something to do with our title match."
"Well maybe I wanted to see if the boy is alright."
"He's fine." I say as Officer James brings me my belongings. "You don't have to act so concerned."
"I’m not acting Nikki. He’s a child, one that’s scared out of his mind right now."
"And he has the support he needs." I hiss before grabbing my clothes. "Where can I change?"
"The bathroom in the waiting room." Officer James says before unlocking the cuffs. "Since we've already processed your release, you're free to go afterward."
I guess the right to sanitary conditions gets waived when you've been locked up, but I really want to go home right now and see my baby. So I need to put my hatred of germs aside and get changed in a hurry to make back to Atlanta before dawn. I know that he'll need a couple ice packs for the black eye Dustin gave him, and I'm glad to have gotten some good shots in before he ran in the house and called the cops. Drake needs the truth, one that I've avoided for a long time now. Trace looks at me with his steely eyes, no doubt forming an opinion.
"You heard the man, get dressed. We've got things to do."
"Not before you answer some questions."
"Nikki, I don’t have time to play games with you right now. I flew out here from Japan. I’ve had no sleep in two days and I’ve got a jet waiting to fly me right back out there the moment I’m done with you. So go and get changed or I’ll take you home in full orange if that’s what you want."
"I'm not going anywhere with you until I know I'm safe." I say, looking him in the eye. “I'll call my dad if I have to and miss the pay per view."
"Look, you’re safe alright, I don’t get anything out of hurting you so why would I bother." Trace snaps. "I’ll answer whatever questions you want but I’m not doing it in this place."
Officer James interjects, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You really have to move along ma’am."
I'm hesitant sure, but its time I confronted Trace about this matter and I don't care where I do it. He, the master of saving face, wants to do it somewhere where he can't incriminate himself. He's smart, but he shouldn't ignore my convictions. Knowing that we're not getting anything done, I finally conceed.
"Fine, but as soon as I’m dressed I want answers."
I know he probably wanted to get the last word in, but I blocked him out in rout to the bathroom. My head hurts too much from the undue stress I've taken on, and I know that starting an argument in the police station will cause me to look hostile given why I was arrested in the first place. But nobody can change their stripes that quickly, so I'm interested in at least hearing him out.
The second I get outside, he smirks. "Well that’s a much better look."
"Cut the crap. You promised me answers."
"So impatient Nikki, a thank you would have been a nice start." He says, obviously posturing for time. "Alright then, what is it exactly that you want to know?"
"I want to know why you've gone out of your way to protect me these past few months?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?"
"One that I expect an honest answer to." I say, throwing my shirt over my shoulder. "It's no secret you don't like anyone I associate with, so why in the hell are you sticking your neck out for me?"
"The same reason I do most things, because I want to win."
"I’m not buying it." I hiss, putting my hands on my hips. "You don’t want to be tag team champion, you just couldn’t quit because you don’t like to look weak."
"What’s your point exactly?"
"That you could of just let Kyzer and Ante take me out of action and you would have had an out."
Trace raises his eyebrow.
"You could of let me rot in that cell and you would have had an out. You’re not helping me because you want to win, you’re not even helping yourself because if you were you wouldn’t be helping me full stop. So tell me Trace, why are you helping me?"
"This is pointless."
"Stop, just cut the sh*t for once and tell me!"
"Because you’re better than you think you are, alright?" Trace finally blurts out. "Because I see something in you that nobody else sees. Not the fans, not Penny or Demento, not even Josh."
It's emotionally charged and said with enough conviction that it could be possible to believe. Trace has always struck me as a man who keeps his emotions in order, much like Drakz, much like Josh, and until recently, me. The uncertainty of the situation forced my hand and caused me to force his.
"That isn’t Josh’s kid so he doesn’t understand the fight and the drive it takes to protect a kid, and I can see that you’d give your life to protect yours." He continues. "You’ve got the potential to be something great because you’ve got something truly worth fighting for. You fight for the same reasons I do. I see parts of myself in you Nikki."
He pauses, which I'll admit is convenient with the way he left a potentially perverted comment hanging.
"I’ve done terrible things, sure, but I don’t regret any of them. I’d do every single one of them again, all the backstabbing, all the lying, all the pain and the injuries I’ve inflicted." He continues, closing his fist and smacking it against his open palm. "I’d do every single thing again because it was the right thing. For me anyway, maybe not other people but that’s not the point right now. The point is that even though I stand by every decision I’ve made, every action I’ve taken, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to leave a legacy that my daughter can be proud of. That’s something you understand right, wanting your kid to be proud of you?"
Duh?
"Look you’re not gonna believe me, and nobody else is gonna believe me, because quite frankly I wouldn’t believe me. It’s very, very unbelievable."
I want to say something, but right now he's on a roll. I wanted to hear him out, and I guess I'm getting my wish.
"I had a conversation a few days ago and an, let’s call her an old friend, she told me that the only person who’s opinion that matters to be is my daughters, and she was right. That’s what this has all been about, her, making sure she can grow up and be proud of her dad. I want her to see that even though I wasn’t the best guy, hell I’m not even a nice guy, that I was capable of doing the right thing. And that’s what I’m doing now with you, the right thing."
"Why should I trust a word you say?"
"You don’t have to, I’m not making you. I’m just telling you the truth. I’m not playing some game, I want to help you. When I look at you I see a fighter but I also see a mother and I want to make sure you get the chance to make your son proud of you too. I want your kid to look up to you not just as a mother but also as someone who fought against everything and achieved her dream."
It is true that I want Drake to be proud of me. But he forgets that I have two kids. Hunter's still too young to understand what's going on around him, but he won't be eventually.
"Maybe if I do that then my kid will see me the same way yours does you. Look, I’m not expecting you to say anything. You take the car, my driver will take you back home so you can see your kid and when you’re ready he’ll drive you to the airport. I’ll grab a taxi back and then I’ll see you in Tokyo. We’ve got tournament to win after all."
"Okay, I guess I’ll see you at the show." I say with a small smile before turning on my heel toward his car. "Oh and Trace, thank you for bailing me out and all."
*****
Spending time in jail has a way of making you reflect. How you got there? Was it worth it? Have you caused damage you can't repair? Questions that take time to answer is what I've been staring down, knowing my children have seen me at my worst. Most importantly, would I do it again if the situation were the same?
You're damn right I would, without hesitation.
You don't have kids, Mr. Cray, and your disdain for them you've made quite clear over the years. So I can't expect you to understand why our Tag Team Title match took a backseat to my personal life in recent weeks. That wouldn't be fair to you, even if I believe you'd be better served as a human to catch a glimpse of real sacrifice. When a crying toddler wakes up in the middle of the night, and he can't express to you with words what's bothering him. There isn't a mute button for him except the one I'm able to provide, having to play psychic to soothe him and losing an infinite number of hours of sleep along the way.
I shouldn't ask you to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions that a scared ten year old boy goes through when he finds out his father's true colors in the form of a black eye and bruised ribs, all the while using the lessons I taught him about unconditional love against me. I shouldn't expect you to fathom how hard it is to let go of his innocence knowing that ugly truth.
You can't and you won't because you're too busy selfishly keeping your legacy in tact.
I shouldn't expect certain behaviour but I do, because as World Heavyweight Champion I hold you to a higher standard. Especially when my son enjoys watching you compete almost as much as he enjoys watching myself and my husband. Take that as high praise, if for no other reason than a child's bias. You've really found a nice niche with this 'good guy' persona, but I honestly believe that as much as I believe Trace has turned over a new leaf all of a sudden. And the reason why I don't believe it is because of the championship I hold in my possession. A thank you should be in order I suppose, because you were at least honest enough to admit you didn't want the belt in the first place. But understand that I don't need your endorsement. It's the fact you continuously take credit for my success that truly annoys me.
Because you weren't in the gym, spending your time training me.
You weren't giving me advice on how I could improve.
All you did was discard a belt I hold dear and maybe, just maybe, had a hand in the tournament I won it in.
So what's there to really thank?
I understand that I'm about to do something very special, including myself in a very select company of people that have held two championships simultaneously. I'd have to be blind not to see that I'm standing in your way of history as well. But history deserves to be written by those who made sacrifices for more than just themselves, and that's the difference between us Mr. Cray. Your sacrifices end when the bell rings, while mine are just beginning.
Career threatening back injury? Come back from a life threatening blood clotting condition, then we'll have something to discuss.
Until you can grasp that simple concept, I'd prefer it if you kept my name out of your mouth. If not, well... I've been told I have a hair trigger at the end of my boot and a tendancy to rearrange people's teeth. Keep that one in the back of your mind, because I have no discretion on who my target is once the bell rings.
Only one of us is going to get what we want in Tokyo, Mr. Cray. And you're looking at her.
Staring down the officer as he approaches, I walk over toward the door of the holding cell. This is the first time I've ever been incarcerated, and I have had the last few days to think about everything. A black skid mark on my otherwise white coat. It's fitting that the numbers on my orange jumpsuit are these colors, because my actions might have cost me dearly depending on your interpretation of black and white.
Lost yet?
Maybe I should start at the beginning.
****
"You're in the finals, babe!" Josh says as we make it back to the locker room. "This is huge!"
"I can't help but feel like I'm dreaming." I say, sitting my belt down on the table. "And I thought End Game couldn't get any better."
"Listen, this is only the beginning."
"Don't you think we need to slow down a bit?"
"I'm not following."
Sitting down in the chair to take off my boots, I remind him. "Nothing is certain."
"I understand that but we've got to set high goals, otherwise we're selling ourselves short."
"I can't look that far ahead though." I say, taking a deep breath. "I still haven't talked to Trace."
"Trace isn't going to be an issue." He says, sitting down beside me. "You've won without communicating, why fix it?"
"Trace only cares about winning Josh."
"I know, we all care about that."
"But with him, it's different." I say, pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol from my bag. "You didn't see the look in his eyes when he hit Ante with that kendo."
"So..."
"I'm scared Josh, what if he decides to use it on me?"
"I don't think Trace is stupid enough to get too far on my bad side." Josh says as he kisses my forehead. "But if he does, he'll be dealt with."
I know Trace came to the office and had a meeting with Josh. The fact he hasn't said much about it tells me that it was either uneventful or uncomfortably tense. They don't like each other, that much is obvious. I know Josh means well to look out for my safety, but what worries me is that Trace could pin any actions against me back to that very conversation or any others they've previously had. For this to work, I need to be in his good graces.
"Can you get me a paper towel?" I ask, pulling an injection needle from my travel kit. "I need to take my medicine."
"I still don't know why you wait until late at night to take it."
"A bunch of medical reasons that Dr. Cabell explained to me when they put the stint in my elbow."
"Give me the short version." He says, handing me a paper towel. "You've probably told me and I've forgotten with all the sh*t going on."
"By the way I understand it, my adrenaline already acts as a thinner." I say, prepping the needle. "But if I take it before my matches and I get cut, I run the risk of bleeding out."
"I guess it is a good thing Trace has come to your aide."
"Why would you think that?"
"If for no other reason, you're a money tree for him."
Josh pauses.
"Think about it, the ladder match got a lot of people talking, and that fight with Kyzer made him look good when he came to your rescue."
"Yet he can't say two words to me?"
"Listen, if there's anything Trace understands, it's drama and money." Josh says, putting his hair up under his hat. "Your run through the tournament gives him both. Now why he can't man up and tell you that to your face is something I'm not going to try and answer. But every pay per view needs intrigue to get people buying."
It makes sense, but then again most of Josh's thoughts on business do. I know I'm not Trace's first choice for a partner, that is if he even wanted to do the tournament in the first place. I have my obligations to the National Title as well, and I know that I've pushed my old friend to the side after spending so much time getting healthy so I could be reunited with it again. My demons, as it were, have been eliminated too and that left me spent.
"Would it be strange if I wasn't very excited for the title match?"
"I know Drakz and Zmey are imposing but..."
"No, I mean I've been in my fair share of championship matches." I say, sticking the needle into my stomach. Josh watches with a grimace, no doubt channeling flashbacks to his match with Phillip Schneider. "I'm comfortable in that situation, but I don't know what to do now that my rivalry with Ante is over."
"You remember when I told you never get personally involved?"
"Yeah."
"Well, there's exceptions to the rule and Ante forced you to get emotionally invested."
"I don't know how much I have left." I say, standing up to discard the needle. "I spent so much energy on him."
"You'll find it." Josh says, kissing my forehead again as I sit down. "This is the first time you've ever experienced an adrenaline dump."
"I think I just need to see the boys."
"We'll fly out in the morning and spend time with them before the pay per view." Josh says, zipping up my bag. "I need to follow up on Dave's case anyway."
"Ok." I say, seeing my cell phone vibrating beside me. I pick it up. "Hello, hi Daddy. Yeah we're about to leave the arena. Oh he did? Ok... Love you too."
I pause for a moment and Josh looks at me.
"Well, I guess Dustin wanted to use his visitation rights."
*****
Dean Residence
Atlanta, Georgia
7-29-2015
"This house feels so empty." I say, pouring a couple mugs of coffee. "Thank you for coming to stay with me while Josh's in Arizona."
"Well, I figured you could use the help without Drake here."
"The help is nice." I say, grabbing the milk from the refrigerator. "I just don't like being alone."
"Have either of them called you today?"
"Josh called me when they got done at the courthouse."
"How'd it go?"
"Dave's in prison."
"I was worried about that." Dad says, scooping sugar into his mug. "You know, Dave's really a good kid."
"Dave's nearing thirty, Daddy."
"Well, I'm sixty two." He chuckles. " You're all kids to me."
"Better than being treated like a prop."
So Drake went down to Macon, and what upsets me the most was that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. He was there, but his excitement overruled my wishes. That's parenthood I guess, sacrificing for another life and I won't change that for anything. I know Dustin did this on purpose so that I couldn't say no or talk Drake out of it. As smart as he is, I wonder how much of this is blind devotion?
A few nights ago, I sat down and watched the Fresh Prince of Bel Air with Josh, and it shocked me how much Will reminds me of Drake in a lot of ways. I empathized with Phillip and Vivian, a working class mentality beneath their upper class exterior. Drake had been with me through some very tough times financially, and like Will, I'm not sure if he knows how to handle having more than he could ever want. I'm hoping his trip to Macon will remind him.
"I know you're upset that Drake decided to go, but that is his father..."
"Being a father and a dad are two different things, you know that."
"Yes it is, but if Drake wants him involved, then give Dustin a chance to be."
"Why, so he can be disappointed again?"
"Unconditional love is not meant to be understood, honey." Dad says, taking a drink from his mug. "Do you think Drake gets what's really going on?"
"No, but I've always protected him from seeing Dustin's true colors."
"I know you have, but maybe you're doing him a favor in the long run by letting him go." Dad says, opening the morning newspaper. "Dustin can't keep the act up for long."
I sigh, staring down at my cup of coffee. "What's worse is that I have quite possibly the toughest match in my career coming up, and it's the last thing on my mind."
"Yeah, I saw you and that Trace fella win your semifinal match." He says before putting on his reading glasses. "You looked really strong in there."
"Is that the first time you've watched my match?"
"No, I've watched all your matches." He begins. "What I mean is that you looked confident in there, like Sabbath and Garrett couldn't touch you. There's no doubt in my mind you're a natural athlete Nikki, but it seems as though you're finally starting to believe what you're saying in those interviews."
"It helps having a former World Champion on my team."
"I'm sure it does, but you would've been fine even if you had another partner."
I might've been, but in looking at the field that has been narrowed down to Drakz, Turgain, Trace, and I, there aren't a whole lot of candidates to replace the mean streak or experience I get with Trace. The only other options I would've felt secure with are ironically the men that stand in front of me and another title, a humorous fact in its own way. Maybe I could appreciate it a more if my personal life weren't in such disarray with this custody appeal, and this where Josh would come in with a pearl of wisdom to help me clear my mind. But I shrugged him away, knowing that Dustin's restraining order would prevent him from getting too involved. I still feel guilty for it, but we both know it's for the best.
"Maybe you're right."
"I know I am." Dad says as he answers his cell phone. "Hello, yeah your momma's right here, hold on."
"Put it on speaker." I say as Dad nods his head. "Hi bubby, what's up?"
"Mom." Drake says with a sob in his voice. "I want to come home."
"What's wrong sweetie?"
"Well, Dad was drinking with his friend Mike last night and... I just want to come home."
"It's ok, I'm leaving the house now."
"Please hurry!"
Dad hangs up the phone and I let out another deep sigh, this time relief. "Come on, let's go get him."
*****
Twin Pines Mobile Home Court
Macon, Georgia
"Open up Dustin!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "This is ridiculous!"
"Mom." Drake says, cracking the door. "You made it."
"Of course honey, you always come first in my life."
"Can we go home?" Drake says, looking over his shoulder. "I really don't want to be here."
"Absolutely, get your stuff packed." I say as Drake turns, and I see the bruises on his face. "Drake, what happened to your eye?"
"It's nothing....I fell."
"Into what, a fist?"
"Uh..."
"Drake Aaron Gillespie, tell me what happened."
"He said he'd never do it again, that he lost his temper for a split second."
"Get your stuff, you will not be staying here any more." I say putting my hands on my hips. "Where's your father?"
"He's been passed out on the couch since this morning."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah." Drake says, looking over his shoulder again. "I'll go get my stuff."
Helpless. That's how I feel seeing my son in the kind of pain he's in. I had a feeling deep in my gut that letting him go to Macon was a mistake, but I didn't think Dustin would stoop as low as he did. With the hearing coming up soon, this is a perfect chance to show a judge the kind of environment Drake's in. A smoking gun as it were, but I need to get pictures first. Drake comes to the front door with his travel bag before slipping out the front door. I pull my camera phone out and begin to snap pictures of his bruised face.
"Ok, lift your shirt up." I say as I take his bag. "I need to see if there's more bruising."
"Mom, he's coming!" Drake says before hiding behind me at the sound of crashing inside the trailer. "We need to go.."
"No honey, you need to take my phone and go to the car." I say, escorting him off the porch. "Have your paw paw drive down the road and call Lucas. I'm putting a stop to this right now."
"Drake, where the f*ck are you.... what the f*ck are you doing here?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I say, leaning away from the smell of alcohol on his breath. "I'm taking my son home."
"The hell you are." He huffs, crossing his arms. "I still have my visitation."
"Not when his safety is compromised." I hiss, standing my ground as he straightens up. "I'm sure a judge will have something to say about the bruises all over his body."
"I didn't f*cking do that!"
"Right, why did he call me wanting to come home, or hide when he heard you staggering around the trailer?"
"The little brat needs to stop telling lies on me, because I'd never lay a finger...
"On him....is that what you were going to say?" I interrupt, calmly moving my hand behind my back. "Just like you said to me all those years ago after you knocked the piss out of me because I caught you up in a lie."
"You had it coming with that mouth of yours, just like some kid is gonna give it to him for his smart ass mouth."
"Yeah, a kid Dustin, not a thirty four year old man."
"My dad rough housed me and I turned out ok." He says, raising his head in an arrogant fashion. "The boy is soft."
"And your way of toughening him up is to tie one on and beat the hell out of him?"
"Better than being stuck to the tit all his life."
I've really been holding my temper with Dustin, knowing that I have solid proof to take to the police. It's in that moment I realized just how much of a sociopath he is, justifying abuse as tough love. My blood is boiling and and my fist are clenched. With the car still in the driveway and Drake looking on, I'm trying to handle it in a peaceful fashion. Unfortunately, I seem to be running out of options.
"No why don't go on and do your little wrestling thing and leave me to visit with my son."
"He's not staying here, and you'll never see him again by the time I'm done."
"Is that a threat?"
"That's a promise." I say as Dustin puffs his chest. "So just stop while you're ahead."
He cocks his fist back, and I see this about to get physical. "Make me."
I can't tell you what happened, except that I blacked out in anger. Judging by the lack of marks on my face, I'd say I channeled a very dark place caused by years of torment from this man. When I finally came to my senses, I was already locked in a cell. The court is going to have a fun time with this one.
*****
Hello, partner." Trace says with a smirk as he greets me at the front desk. "Well, jumpsuits certainly don't flatter you do they."
"What are you doing here, Trace?"
"Nikki, haven't you heard that things get back to me?"
"Yeah, I heard you were big on espionage."
"I'm insulted Nikki." Trace says, putting his arms behind his back. “It makes me wonder why I’m even here right now, spending my own cash to bail you out of this mess you’re in."
"I'm thinking it has something to do with our title match."
"Well maybe I wanted to see if the boy is alright."
"He's fine." I say as Officer James brings me my belongings. "You don't have to act so concerned."
"I’m not acting Nikki. He’s a child, one that’s scared out of his mind right now."
"And he has the support he needs." I hiss before grabbing my clothes. "Where can I change?"
"The bathroom in the waiting room." Officer James says before unlocking the cuffs. "Since we've already processed your release, you're free to go afterward."
I guess the right to sanitary conditions gets waived when you've been locked up, but I really want to go home right now and see my baby. So I need to put my hatred of germs aside and get changed in a hurry to make back to Atlanta before dawn. I know that he'll need a couple ice packs for the black eye Dustin gave him, and I'm glad to have gotten some good shots in before he ran in the house and called the cops. Drake needs the truth, one that I've avoided for a long time now. Trace looks at me with his steely eyes, no doubt forming an opinion.
"You heard the man, get dressed. We've got things to do."
"Not before you answer some questions."
"Nikki, I don’t have time to play games with you right now. I flew out here from Japan. I’ve had no sleep in two days and I’ve got a jet waiting to fly me right back out there the moment I’m done with you. So go and get changed or I’ll take you home in full orange if that’s what you want."
"I'm not going anywhere with you until I know I'm safe." I say, looking him in the eye. “I'll call my dad if I have to and miss the pay per view."
"Look, you’re safe alright, I don’t get anything out of hurting you so why would I bother." Trace snaps. "I’ll answer whatever questions you want but I’m not doing it in this place."
Officer James interjects, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You really have to move along ma’am."
I'm hesitant sure, but its time I confronted Trace about this matter and I don't care where I do it. He, the master of saving face, wants to do it somewhere where he can't incriminate himself. He's smart, but he shouldn't ignore my convictions. Knowing that we're not getting anything done, I finally conceed.
"Fine, but as soon as I’m dressed I want answers."
I know he probably wanted to get the last word in, but I blocked him out in rout to the bathroom. My head hurts too much from the undue stress I've taken on, and I know that starting an argument in the police station will cause me to look hostile given why I was arrested in the first place. But nobody can change their stripes that quickly, so I'm interested in at least hearing him out.
The second I get outside, he smirks. "Well that’s a much better look."
"Cut the crap. You promised me answers."
"So impatient Nikki, a thank you would have been a nice start." He says, obviously posturing for time. "Alright then, what is it exactly that you want to know?"
"I want to know why you've gone out of your way to protect me these past few months?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?"
"One that I expect an honest answer to." I say, throwing my shirt over my shoulder. "It's no secret you don't like anyone I associate with, so why in the hell are you sticking your neck out for me?"
"The same reason I do most things, because I want to win."
"I’m not buying it." I hiss, putting my hands on my hips. "You don’t want to be tag team champion, you just couldn’t quit because you don’t like to look weak."
"What’s your point exactly?"
"That you could of just let Kyzer and Ante take me out of action and you would have had an out."
Trace raises his eyebrow.
"You could of let me rot in that cell and you would have had an out. You’re not helping me because you want to win, you’re not even helping yourself because if you were you wouldn’t be helping me full stop. So tell me Trace, why are you helping me?"
"This is pointless."
"Stop, just cut the sh*t for once and tell me!"
"Because you’re better than you think you are, alright?" Trace finally blurts out. "Because I see something in you that nobody else sees. Not the fans, not Penny or Demento, not even Josh."
It's emotionally charged and said with enough conviction that it could be possible to believe. Trace has always struck me as a man who keeps his emotions in order, much like Drakz, much like Josh, and until recently, me. The uncertainty of the situation forced my hand and caused me to force his.
"That isn’t Josh’s kid so he doesn’t understand the fight and the drive it takes to protect a kid, and I can see that you’d give your life to protect yours." He continues. "You’ve got the potential to be something great because you’ve got something truly worth fighting for. You fight for the same reasons I do. I see parts of myself in you Nikki."
He pauses, which I'll admit is convenient with the way he left a potentially perverted comment hanging.
"I’ve done terrible things, sure, but I don’t regret any of them. I’d do every single one of them again, all the backstabbing, all the lying, all the pain and the injuries I’ve inflicted." He continues, closing his fist and smacking it against his open palm. "I’d do every single thing again because it was the right thing. For me anyway, maybe not other people but that’s not the point right now. The point is that even though I stand by every decision I’ve made, every action I’ve taken, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to leave a legacy that my daughter can be proud of. That’s something you understand right, wanting your kid to be proud of you?"
Duh?
"Look you’re not gonna believe me, and nobody else is gonna believe me, because quite frankly I wouldn’t believe me. It’s very, very unbelievable."
I want to say something, but right now he's on a roll. I wanted to hear him out, and I guess I'm getting my wish.
"I had a conversation a few days ago and an, let’s call her an old friend, she told me that the only person who’s opinion that matters to be is my daughters, and she was right. That’s what this has all been about, her, making sure she can grow up and be proud of her dad. I want her to see that even though I wasn’t the best guy, hell I’m not even a nice guy, that I was capable of doing the right thing. And that’s what I’m doing now with you, the right thing."
"Why should I trust a word you say?"
"You don’t have to, I’m not making you. I’m just telling you the truth. I’m not playing some game, I want to help you. When I look at you I see a fighter but I also see a mother and I want to make sure you get the chance to make your son proud of you too. I want your kid to look up to you not just as a mother but also as someone who fought against everything and achieved her dream."
It is true that I want Drake to be proud of me. But he forgets that I have two kids. Hunter's still too young to understand what's going on around him, but he won't be eventually.
"Maybe if I do that then my kid will see me the same way yours does you. Look, I’m not expecting you to say anything. You take the car, my driver will take you back home so you can see your kid and when you’re ready he’ll drive you to the airport. I’ll grab a taxi back and then I’ll see you in Tokyo. We’ve got tournament to win after all."
"Okay, I guess I’ll see you at the show." I say with a small smile before turning on my heel toward his car. "Oh and Trace, thank you for bailing me out and all."
*****
Spending time in jail has a way of making you reflect. How you got there? Was it worth it? Have you caused damage you can't repair? Questions that take time to answer is what I've been staring down, knowing my children have seen me at my worst. Most importantly, would I do it again if the situation were the same?
You're damn right I would, without hesitation.
You don't have kids, Mr. Cray, and your disdain for them you've made quite clear over the years. So I can't expect you to understand why our Tag Team Title match took a backseat to my personal life in recent weeks. That wouldn't be fair to you, even if I believe you'd be better served as a human to catch a glimpse of real sacrifice. When a crying toddler wakes up in the middle of the night, and he can't express to you with words what's bothering him. There isn't a mute button for him except the one I'm able to provide, having to play psychic to soothe him and losing an infinite number of hours of sleep along the way.
I shouldn't ask you to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions that a scared ten year old boy goes through when he finds out his father's true colors in the form of a black eye and bruised ribs, all the while using the lessons I taught him about unconditional love against me. I shouldn't expect you to fathom how hard it is to let go of his innocence knowing that ugly truth.
You can't and you won't because you're too busy selfishly keeping your legacy in tact.
I shouldn't expect certain behaviour but I do, because as World Heavyweight Champion I hold you to a higher standard. Especially when my son enjoys watching you compete almost as much as he enjoys watching myself and my husband. Take that as high praise, if for no other reason than a child's bias. You've really found a nice niche with this 'good guy' persona, but I honestly believe that as much as I believe Trace has turned over a new leaf all of a sudden. And the reason why I don't believe it is because of the championship I hold in my possession. A thank you should be in order I suppose, because you were at least honest enough to admit you didn't want the belt in the first place. But understand that I don't need your endorsement. It's the fact you continuously take credit for my success that truly annoys me.
Because you weren't in the gym, spending your time training me.
You weren't giving me advice on how I could improve.
All you did was discard a belt I hold dear and maybe, just maybe, had a hand in the tournament I won it in.
So what's there to really thank?
I understand that I'm about to do something very special, including myself in a very select company of people that have held two championships simultaneously. I'd have to be blind not to see that I'm standing in your way of history as well. But history deserves to be written by those who made sacrifices for more than just themselves, and that's the difference between us Mr. Cray. Your sacrifices end when the bell rings, while mine are just beginning.
Career threatening back injury? Come back from a life threatening blood clotting condition, then we'll have something to discuss.
Until you can grasp that simple concept, I'd prefer it if you kept my name out of your mouth. If not, well... I've been told I have a hair trigger at the end of my boot and a tendancy to rearrange people's teeth. Keep that one in the back of your mind, because I have no discretion on who my target is once the bell rings.
Only one of us is going to get what we want in Tokyo, Mr. Cray. And you're looking at her.
