#RealTalk (Ryder Blade RP v Constance Chapin)

One year.

By the time VoW Double Jeopardy rolls around, it will be close to one year since I plucked a cocky young man from the dregs of the New York and Philadelphia independent wrestling scene and made him into a highly successful energy-drink spokesperson  and nationwide wrestling phenomenon. It's still hard to think of the brainwashed, micro-managed live-action cartoon that first invaded Visionaries of Wrestling and the competent, decorated Champion about to go into a record-breaking fourth defence as one and the same, but it only goes to show how far Ryder came since signing a contract with Sprintex. Homemade belts, skateboards and scripted raps turned into a real belt, multiple records smashed and replaced, a ten-month winning streak, and a growing legion of naysayers just itching to see Ryder brought down off his cloud. Bart Simpson became Tom Brady, then Ronda Rousey – and if he gets past this defence, we could be moving into Mohammed Ali territory.

Ryder's career was not the only thing that evolved, either – since turning go-nowhere indie schlub Jordan Jacobs into the Xcellent Champion, Ryder Blade, I myself have changed the way I look at my ward. As much as I tried to keep up the pretence that Ryder was nothing to me but a money-making device, a cash cow, I was ultimately forced to give up the ghost; when someone with the IQ of Kyrill Sergeyev can tell you don't mean what you're saying, that should serve as an indicator that maybe you should cut the crap. So I did. Because the truth is, it's been at least a good few months since I've looked at Ryder that way – ever since last summer, he has been far more to me than a way to launder a couple more million dollars. No, at this stage, Sprintex has taken a back seat to Ryder's wrestling career, and his role as a marketing device for Sprintex has definitely been overshadowed by another, far more significant role.

Over the course of the past few months, Ryder has become my son.

Yes, what started off as a sarcastic way to keep anonymity – I had created the character of Ryder, therefore I was his 'Dad' – turned into something far more tangible, and far more sincere. Ryder, with his oblivious confidence and his childish quirks and his knack for surprising everyone with incredibly mature moments out of the blue, has filled a lingering hole in my black, scoundrel's heart - one which had lingered there for a good few years, ever since another cocksure, ambitious young man with a big grin was ripped from my life entirely too soon. For weeks upon weeks, I tried to deny it; I lied to myself, told myself our relationship was still strictly business, that I would never allow anything or anyone to penetrate the shield I had put up for myself after what happened to Freddy. But I knew. I knew this kid was getting through my defences, slowly but surely working away at the layer of frost over my heart, until he had managed to thaw it without ever having meant to. Ryder never wanted anything more than to be accepted by his 'X-Dad' (he arguably never even considered anyone else worth impressing) and that eagerness to be seen as someone worth my time ended up getting to me - not least because it was also a character trait of another young man who used to look up to me as something akin to a God...

'Stop thinking about Freddy', I scold myself, as I slowly lift myself up off my padded chair. The symphony of creaking and snapping my bones and joints engage in as I stand up is a stark reminder – as if I needed one – that I'm no spring chicken. Which, in turn, brings me to the realization that I am also living vicariously through Ryder. As a one-time aspiring professional boxer – a career path abandoned once the Family came calling with bigger and better life prospects – Ryder Blade's wrestling career is the closest I'm ever likely to get to knowing what it would have felt like to stand in a ring and knock the stuffing out of some trash-talking bozo under the pretext of athletic competition. Ryder's exhilaration after each harrowing win is my own – I feel what he feels, almost as if we shared a mind-link. And when it comes to worrying and pre-match jitters, I'd warrant I fill the quota for both of us. In short, I've turned into a 'soccer Dad' – in fact, if doing so didn't blow my cover and expose me to potential capture, I bet I would have gone down to VoW headquarters a couple of times by now, to ask why my son isn't being given more Main Events.

This last thought makes me chuckle – which, in turn, causes the four-month-old pitbull mix curled up on her pillow by the fire to snap to attention, her ears perked up as she tries to ascertain whether the sound she just heard was real, or simply a figment of her latest puppy-dream.

'I know, Ruby', I chuckle. 'I'm a crazy old man.'

Ruby gives a whimper – hard to tell if she agrees with me or if it's meant as a rebuttal – and trots across the living area of the compound and into my office. Upon reaching my desk, she places her two front paws on my knees and stretches up to lick my face. I allow her to do so for a moment, scratching her torso, but eventually push her away, with a firm call of 'Down!' Ruby's hurt expression at the command mirrors my first ex-wife's 'wounded' pout so perfectly that I can't help but chuckle again.

'We should have called you Donna', I tell her, scratching the tip of her head. She leans on my knee and turns plaintive brown eyes up at me, which succeeds in bringing about another chuckle. 'Or Isabella. Izzy used to look at me like that.'

Izzy. Unlike Donna – or 'PrimaDonna', as I and the rest of Don Amuso's boys took to calling her - hinking of her still brings a pang to my heart. Things went south after Freddy, but I've never stopped loving her. I call her from time to time, and we're civil, but we both agree there's no going back. There would be too many memories there. Too much pain.

'I wonder what she'd think of Ryder', I muse for a split-second. I know the answer to that, though – she'd think I was trying to replace Freddy. And I'm not sure she would be wrong.

'Right, Ruby', I say, standing up yet again and wilfully pushing the hurtful thoughts out of my mind, 'seeing as the weather won't let us go for our walk today, methinks we might as well check on the boys. What do you think?'

To someone with no knowledge of dogs, Ruby's snort could mean anything – agreement, disagreement, reproach, enthusiasm, or even something as straightforward as dust up her nose. Growing up around animals, however, gives you a sixth sense when it comes to understanding them; I know what exactly what Ruby is telling me with that sneeze, and I agree.

'Let's go get the tablet', I tell her, leading her gently towards the living quarters. 'Daddy will be missing his baby.'

It's not until a moment later that I realize Ryder and Ruby are not the only ones that statement applies to.

Boss's voice sounds hella strange coming out of a tablet, like it ain't even him talking. Like he having someone talk for him. But maybe that's 'cause we used to Boss being right there next to us when he talking to us. Even when we was in Europe that time, for that VoW tour, Boss was right there with us. He ain't never been thousands of miles away, talking to us through Skype – maybe 'cause we ain't never had no dog someone had to stay at home with before. So we ain't never heard his voice coming out of a computer – which is probably why it sounds hella weird.

'We cool, Boss', I say, realizing I just been standing here thinking about dumb-ass shit while Boss trying to talk to me. 'Just chillin'.'

'So the flight was all right?' Boss don't sound too convinced, but I know that's just the way he is – he always wants to make damn sure before he lets something go.

On-screen, Boss chuckles. 'Bet Kyrill loved it, huh?'

'Oh, yeah. Mo'fucka spent the whole trip eatin' these tiny-ass snacks they was givin' out to folk! Time we back in New York, airline gonna be outta them things 'cause of his ass!' Usually, I don't talk like this 'round Boss, but if there's one thing brings us all together, it's fucking with Kyrill. Homeboy just too easy of a target!

'Hey! Was good!' Kyrill shrugs, and me and Boss both laugh.

'Bet it was, way you was stuffin' ya face!' I turn to Boss. 'Hey yo boss, you better buy the airline just in case...'

Boss laughs again, but then he moves on to real talk. 

'How's Ryder?' Boss gives me one of his looks. 'He's not having too much fun, is he?'

'Nah, boss. We playin' by your rules.' It's true, too – after last time, ain't no way I'm ever going against Boss's orders again. 'We was back here before 1AM yesterday.'

'Bet Ryder loved that...' Boss grins, then starts bending his neck like he trying to look behind me. 'Where is he?'

It's my turn to laugh. 'Takin' a shit!'

'HEY YO!' Me and Kyrill both start laughing our ever-loving asses off when we hear X yelling from the john. 'Not cool, bruh!'

'Hear that, boss?' I stay laughing as I turn back to my tablet.

'Yeah. He was yellin'...hold on, he flushin'! Can you hear that?' Boss can't, but it's cool, 'cause X shows up just then – and he mad.

'Hey yo, what's the big idea, Big Dogg? How you gonna tell people The X is taking a dump?' X looks around. 'No wonder the babes left, ya buttmonkey!'

'The only girl here right now is of the quadruped persuasion, Ryder.' Boss's voice makes X jump halfway to the ceiling. Boy ain't seen the tablet 'till just now – he too busy screaming. 'But I agree – that was, as I think you millennials say, T-M-I.'

'Heck yeah it was.' X takes the tablet from me and gives me this look like he want to yell at me, but don't want to get in trouble. ''Sup, X-Dad?'

'Not much', Boss says. 'Snowed in. You guys were lucky to make it outta New York before this blizzard started. Cancelled flights all over the goddamn place. Even the roads were closed yesterday.'

'Bitchin'!' X gets this big grin on his face and gives Boss a big thumbs-up. 'Most definitely #XcellentChampionApproved!'

'Oh, yeah – we saw mondo sights. Right, Big Dogg?' X turns around and gives me this huge-ass wink. 'Like those three babes yesterday? Talk about muy caliente! Ay caramba!'

'I hope all you did was look, Ryder.' Boss is using his real-talk voice; guess he worried 'bout X catching something from one of these bitches, and giving it to Nicole the next time he up in there. Or maybe he just want X to remember he has a girl now, and do the right thing. 

Can't say I blame him, neither – it's real easy to forget your shorty when you got all these fine Latina honeys wanting to get all up in your business. Hell, Kyrill got a girl in Brooklyn, and he be trying to mack on these bitches like he ain't got his dick sucked in years - I stay having to stop him from throwing Boss's money at every twenty-year-old piece of ass who calls him guapo. Couple of times I been tempted to do it myself – if we wasn't here for work, I be cruising them streets like nobody's business. But we are, so we got to behave. Even them three yesterday, we had to make a date with, 'cause it was still business hours.

'Chillax, Dad-a-rino! All we did was look.' X throws me another mother of a wink. 'At least until later tonight..amirite, Big Dogg?'

I screw my eyes shut and wait for Boss to start yelling, but he don't – instead, he just kind of smiles.

'As long as you remember to wear protection, Ryder. Nicky seems like a nice girl, wouldn't want her catching anything.'[ Called it! 'And I don't want you partying every night, either. I get that it's hard to resist for a guy your age, but you have to remember what you're in Puerto Rico for in the first place. No running wild right before the show - I want you to start disciplining yourself a few days in advance. Constance Chapin's no walk in the park.'

'Don't sweat it, X-Dad.' X gives another one of his grins. 'The X knows what's up. The X knows if he goes out partying and stuff right before the show, Constant Chafing's gonna Ronda Rousey him. And The X said it before, and he'll say it again – he ain't getting Ronda Rousey'd!' X ain't joking about that, neither; way homeboy said that, you can tell he means it.

'Good.' Boss nods. 'That's the spirit, Ryder.' He looks away from the camera and kind of squints his eyes, and then there's that sound like when someone be sending you something on Skype, and it flashes orange. 'That's a video I found of a Constance Chapin Championship match. She had two, and won both. That's the first one, a four-way. The second one's been pulled down from every website I've looked in, and the stream on the GPW site itself was broken. But I also got this.' Skype goes 'ping' again, and another file drops. 'Her weapons match with Emma Carlisle – yes, that Emma Carlisle. They have a First Blood match, too; I'll send that through when I find it. In the meantime, look at those two. That's Constance at her best – and Ryder, you know she's going to be bringing her best against you.'

'The X knows, X-Dad! He...' X suddenly starts laughing when he see the name of the file Boss sent. 'Girl Power Wrestling?! Sounds hot!'

'Don't let the name fool you, Ryder.' Boss most definitely ain't laughing. 'Those girls were the real deal. As good as any man. And Constance was just as much of a big deal there as she is at VoW...if not more. She's not to be taken lightly.'

'Don't have a cow, X-Dad. The X knows Constant Chafing's legit. It's why he's been trying to mess with her game.' X smiles and kind of taps his forehead. Boss looks surprised, and like he 'bout to say something, but before he can, someone else gets into the call.

'RUBY!' X starts smiling real big when his dog come on-camera. 'What's good, baby? You being a good girl? X-Dad, is she being a good girl?'

'She's been great so far', Boss says. 'But I think she misses her Daddy.'

'Do you, babe? Do you miss Daddy X?' X starts talking in that voice you only use with pets and babies 'You do, huh? Who's a good girl? Who's a good X-Puppy?'

Ruby be getting hella confused, running all round the room trying to figure out where X's voice be coming from. This gets everyone laughing their asses off for a couple minutes – even Kyrill, who ain't too into Ruby – but then Boss goes right back to being serious.

'Okay, Ryder, I think you're working her up a bit too much. I don't want any accidents.' X snorts when Boss says this, but Boss ain't joking.

'I think we'll be hanging up for now', he says. 'Mike...keep up the good work. Keep those two in check – don't let them party too hard. Ryder – remember what I told you about Constance Chapin. If we want to make history again, we need to be ready. And Kyrill...' Boss stops for a second, and I can tell he thinking 'bout what to say to K-Dogg. Must have been hard to come up with something, though, 'cause he just waves his hand like 'you do you, dawg.' That seems good enough for Kyrill – homeboy just gives this little wave and goes right back to his fritter. Swear that sucker be thinking about food when he balls-deep in a sweet piece of ass.

'Alright, boys', Boss says. 'I'll talk to you tomorrow.'

Boss goes to hang up, then looks like he remembered something all of a sudden. 'Oh, and one more thing! Ryder--'

The call drops before we can hear the rest.

That's what I wanted to say. That's what I should have said. But I'm a chickenshit coward, so I pressed the hang-up button before I could finish the sentence, so they'd think the call had dropped. Why did I do that? Why not just come out with my feelings? It's not like they don't know! And yet..

...and yet those particular three words, I still struggle with. Probably because of how often they tend to seal your doom when you're in my line of business. Or because that's not the type of shit a man said to another man when I was growing up. Or because, as much as Ryder has become my son, he still isn't my son, and it would just make things awkward.

Regardless of the reason, the truth is – I didn't say it. And now it's too late to go back and reverse my decision – what kind of idiot would I look like if I called up the boys again just to say something like that? Ah well – maybe tomorrow I'll rake up the guts and say it. For now, it's back to hanging out with Ruby and worrying about Ryder's upcoming title defence.

Truth be told, I'm not as worried this time around as I was the last two. Ryder's done enough to show me he's taking Constance seriously, rather than just say it, which is a relief – you can't take most of what that kid says to the bank. But this time, he's not just talking; nor is he leaving the security team to do his dirty work. This time, Ryder is getting actively involved and making his own advantage. Every time Constance has turned around for the past two months, Ryder has been there. On commentary. In a backstage segment. Coming out during a match to mess with her mind. In fact, the only place he hasn't engaged her yet is on Twitter – which, knowing the Xcellent Champion, is nothing short of surprising. 

Still, in every other aspect of playing mind-games, he has excelled, pardon the pun; which is why I'm nowhere near as antsy as I was when he faced Stacy Jones at Armed and Dangerous. The Ryder stepping into the ring in Caguas, Puerto Rico on the first week of February is a far cry from the one who faced 'Psycho Stacy' in that submissions match. He matured technically and mentally over the following months, and earned a modicum of begrudging respect from his peers when he destroyed Patrick Jones at Darkest Hour. And when Constance Chapin stepped up to the plate and started whispers about an upset, he did not dismiss her the way he had people like Stacy Jones or Tyler Storm, people just as capable as Constance; he treated her like an actual threat, and went about making sure he had the mental, if not technical, advantage going into this match. Again, something it would be hard to imagine the skatin', rappin' Champion of Cool ever doing.

So no, I'm not too worried about Ryder's chances, for once; I wish I could be there to see my boy make history again, but eh – you can look at a live stream just as well in New York as you can in Puerto Rico. Wi-Fi's probably better here anyway. I just hope he follows my advice and watches those matches I sent him. He said he would, but again – you can't take what Ryder Blade says to the bank. I'm worried he'll think Girl Power Wrestling was some kiddie-pool lingerie Jell-O fight or something, and skip his homework altogether. I'll have to remind him again tomorrow.

Until then, there's nothing to do but wait, and hope those boys are behaving in Puerto Rico. Ryder's a big boy, he can take care of himself, he has his security guys there...but still. 

It's a father's job to worry about his son.

X-Dad wasn't joshing when he said these chicks were the real deal. The X has to admit – when he saw Constant Chafing wrestled for a place called Girl Power Wrestling, he was totally expecting lingerie pillow-fights and baby-oil catfights and stuff. But these chicks are legit. Connie ain't just plowing through 'em, either – they're going twenty minutes and stuff. And that ain't even because Connie sucks – it's 'cause these other girls are just as baller as her. And she still beat those three in the match The X watched earlier, and won a belt and stuff. And this match...dude, this match is just off the chain, yo.

'Is she hittin' that other girl with a book?' Big Dogg lets out one of his high laughs. 'Man, that shit be whack, yo!'

'Maybe is really heavy book', K-Dogg butts in. Big Dogg and The X react to that the same way they react to anything else K-Dogg says.

'Okay, okay, I shuts the fuck up now', K-Dogg grumbles, and goes right back to eating. Dude's been eating since we landed here – he ain't even stopped when The X and his dudes were talking to those bodacious babes yesterday. The X and Big Dogg are standing there trying to pick up these hot mamacitas, and K-Dogg sees a hot dog cart and just goes to get himself a freaking hot-dog, and comes back like it was nothing! It worked out in the end, 'cause everyone made a bunch of sausage jokes (including the babes, who were digging on The X and B-D.) But still, yo – sometimes The X feels like K-Dogg is more into food than babes!

'X!' There's Big Dogg again. 'Check that out, homie!'

The X turns his attention back to the screen, to see Constant Chafing and Psycho Chick Numero Dos from that one VoW team lying on the mat, with the referee counting.

'Bitches just knocked one another out!' This match has Big Dogg real excited – and not 'cause of that, either. 'How the fuck did that one bitch knock her out with a damn stuffed animal? Shit's gotta be loaded, yo!'

'Ov course is loaded', K-Dogg says, looking at B-D with this big grin, like he's getting payback for the dude poking fun at him before. 'In Bratva, we do all the time. Hide gun in teddy bear. Then police no find when they come lookin'. She hides somethin' in teddy bear. Makes very heavy. Then hits other girl with.'

The X is pretty sure that's as much as K-Dogg ever said at a time – and the face Big Dogg is pulling tells him he's not wrong. K-D is a quiet dude most of the time – B-D says it's 'cause his mouth is always full, and even if it wasn't, the dude's nothing but a fool anyhow. So hearing him talk a bunch like that is real freaky.

Anyway, The X has no time to listen to K-Dogg's theories – seeing Connie tear the house down against those other chicks got him in the zone, and now he's grooving. Somebody get a camera rolling, 'cause The X 'bout to spit some fiyah!

'Yeah?' B-D is still watching the match, but looks up when The X calls him.

'Right now?!' B-D sort of squints at The X. 'But we 'bout to go meet them honeys downtown...'

'We got time.' The X waves off Big Dogg the way he sees X-Dad do sometimes. 'And The X just got into a video-making groove watching Double C own those chicks. Roll it, baby!'

The X is expecting Big Dogg to say something after this, talk about how we got places to see and people to do and stuff, but he doesn't - he just nods and starts tapping away at his tablet. 

'Aight, homie', he says, after like thirty seconds. 'Ready when you are.'

The X nods, and starts looking around the room for the best place to shoot so it look cool. It's a pretty ritzy room – it belongs to some local dude X-Dad does business with – but by far the coolest thing about it is the view. It's bitchin'. The room's way high up in a building, so when you walk out into the balcony you can see the whole town - including the place VoW is gonna be holding this Pay-Per-View at, some arena with a weird Spanish name that The X can't say, 'cause the only thing The X can say in Spanish is 'no hablo Espanol'. That's what you say to Latina chicks when you want to get with them. It means they're hot or whatever. 

Anyway, The X is definitely feeling a shoot from this balcony.

'Hey yo Big Dogg', he says, turning back to his main man. 'Are you ponderin' what The X is ponderin'?'

Big Dogg looks at the window, then back at The X, and The X can tell he's digging The X's idea. 'Out there?'

Big Dogg shrugs. 'I'm down...' He turns his tablet towards the balcony and points to it. 'Get over there. I gotta check the lighting and shit.' 

The X walks over and leans against the balcony. Big Dogg looks at his tablet, then gives a big thumbs-up. 

The X checks to make sure coolness levels are at a max – they are, d'oy – then gives the usual intro to his Xcellentologists:

The X threw some new stuff in there, just for the lulz. Just to mix it up a little bit, dig? So The X's Master Haters can't say he always says the same stuff or whatever. Gotta keep the Hate Squad on their toes, bruh.

The X smiles, just so Connie or whoever gets that it's a joke.

The X smiles again, knowing that shoe's gonna fit a bunch of people who are probably gonna be watching this video once it goes up. In your face, haters! 

Anyway, time to turn this baby up to eleven.

The X leans forward, looking straight at the camera, just like the dude he's about to quote.

Big Dogg gives The X another thumbs-up, and The X can see he's trying real hard not to crack up so he doesn't ruin The X's video. At first, it looks like he's not gonna make it, but in the end, it's cool, and The X is free to continue:

'Like, for real, babe? Don't you or your wife ever smile? Do you even know how to do it? Like, it's not that hard! You just turn your mouth up, kind'a like this...' The X pulls the corners of his mouth up with his fingers. 'Y'all need to try it some time.'

Big Dogg nearly busts up again when The X does this, but The X is done with the jokes now; it's time for some real talk. The X leans forward again and drops the mic on Connie:

Boom! Mic dropped!

The X goes all Dikembe Mutombo for a hot sec, then taps his temple with a finger.

The X leans back against the railing again and prepares to drop some more truths on Connie.

Big Dogg mouths 'dang, son!' from behind the camera, and The X almost corpses, but he keeps his cool in the end, and just continues.

The X gives Connie this look like Dad sometimes gives him over his glasses. Except The X doesn't wear glasses, but whatever. Still works.

Connie probably got the message by now, so The X just smirks and winks and moves on to something else.

The X pats the Xcellent belt on his shoulder.

That's right, baby! Better recognize!

The X should make like Princess Elsa and Let It Go, but it's way too much fun.

WAY too much fun.

#RealTalk!

Jokes. The X has 'em. Even when he's #RealTalking.

Whoa. Heavy. But also totally true.

The X leans forward again, for another pipe bomb.

The X shrugs then moves on to the last thing he wants to say:

No lie! It totally kills The X's buzz when he thinks about it!

The X gives the camera a smirk, then kind of nods, to let Big Dogg know he's done. Big Dogg nods back, switches off the camera, and walks over to give The X a clap on the back and bro-fist him.

'You nailed that one, dawg!' He smiles. 'As always...'

The X goes to say thanks, but before he can say anything, Big Dogg looks at his phone and curses.

'We're runnin' late', he explains, when The X asks him what's up. 'We're supposed to be meetin' those babes at six, and it's fuckin' five thirty and ain't nobody even showered yet!'

He pushes K-Dogg, trying to get him to move, but K-Dogg just looks at him like he's gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, and doesn't budge.

'Fuck you, you fat Russian bitch!' Big Dogg flips K-Dogg the bird, then turns to me. 'C'mon, X. Fuck taking a shower. We finna get sweaty again later, anyway.'

With this, he opens the door and walks out, not waiting for anyone to follow him. The X has just enough time to change from his shorts into his nice pants before the elevator comes, and he and K-Dogg run out of the room just as the doors are opening.

'I got you two bitches whipped', Big Dogg laughs, stepping in front of the door to make sure it stays open. 'And if we're lucky, I'mma have some more bitches whipped later...'

With that, he presses the button for the elevator doors to close, and #TeamSprintex head out for a kickin' night out in Puerto Rico.