The Fart Of War (Ryder Blade RP v Joanna Thade)

I 

The lower branches of the old chestnut tree rustle as an uncommonly large projectile goes whizzing through them and out the other side; a flock of birds, until then sitting idly in a row amid the foliage, suddenly scatters in all directions, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with this strange flying body; and at the base of the tree, a young man hisses through his teeth.

He turns to the oddly-matched duo by his side, gesturing in helpless frustration.

‘I happen to like birds, Ryder,’ I interject, stepping closer to the unlikely trio. ‘I would thank you not to use them as target practice.’

‘C’mon, Dadhead,’ my ward objects. ‘They had it coming. They were just standing there like…’ Ryder strikes a crooked pose, emitting a low moan and pulling a grimace. 

‘I don’t want to hear it, Ryder,’ I snap. ‘Those birds weren’t doing anything to you. And please don’t be offensive.’

‘Geez, Dadmeister,’ Ryder protests. ‘Don’t have a cow, yo!’

He shrugs petulantly, turning away to fetch the football he just threw through the tree, and which is now lying on the floor a few feet away. Before he can get to it, however, someone beats him to the punch, snatching the pigskin from right underneath him and running away with it trapped firmly between their jaws.

Ruby the dog, however, has other ideas. She may well be willing to return the ball to Ryder, but not before she makes him chase her all over the lawn to retrieve it. The ensuing pursuit has Mike, Kyrill and – yes – myself all in stitches, as we watch Ryder flail and shout and fruitlessly lunge at the dog, who invariably swerves away a mere split-second before she is caught.

‘Ryder,’ I eventually yell, taking pity on the boy. ‘Go the other way!’

Ryder looks up at me. ‘Huh?’

Ryder frowns in confusion for a moment longer, then finally gets the message. He runs around so that he is facing Ruby, feints to the left, then – when the dog falls for it – pounces to the right, pinning her to the ground.

The two roll around on the floor for a moment, Ruby’s tail matching Ryder’s guffaws; then, once the dog has exhausted her energy, Ryder reaches in and gently pries the football from between her teeth, wiping it with his sleeve as he does.

‘Hey yo, Big Dogg,’ he says, pointing the football at Mike, ‘go long!’

Mike gets ready to start running for Ryder’s pass, but a blur of motion off to his left halts The Blade’s hand mid-throw. The source of this distraction is a shapely blonde, currently jogging up the path at a steady clip, completely oblivious to The Blade’s existence. Though not, I suspect, for my longer.

‘Nah,’ Ryder says, flicking the briefest of glances in the woman’s direction. ‘You know what, bruh? You throw it. The Blade’s gonna go long.’

Mike seems poised to make some sort of remark, but Ryder does not give him the chance.

‘THINK FAST,’ he yells, tossing the ball at his big security specialist. Caught by surprise, Mike very nearly fumbles the pass, but is soon ready to return the ball to a sprinting Ryder. His eyes drift slightly to the side, to take in the jogger currently on a collision course with The Blade, and a lightbulb goes off somewhere in his brain.

‘GO LONG, DAWG,’ he calls out, proceeding to throw the ball way too far and way too high. Ryder would need wings to get to that pass, but then again, that’s not at all the intent.

To Ryder’s credit, he does make a good show of leaping for the ball; it lends the performance a much-needed element of realism. Still, the end result is exactly what The Blade and his main man intended – Ryder goes barreling into the jogger, nearly bowling her over as he himself loses his footing.

‘Hey! Watch where you’re going, jackass,’ the blonde protests. Ryder flashes her a grin.

Ryder feigns glowering at his bodyguard, but the blonde isn’t buying it.

‘The Blade was, babe. Honest!' Ryder flashes her his patented grin. 'What's your name, anyway?'

With that, and before Ryder can say another word, the jogger is back on her way, and Ryder is feeling the sting of Kyrill and Mike's laughter.

'Daaaayum, R-Dogg,' Mike gasps. 'Re-jec-ted!'

'Nah, bruh.' Ryder affects a confidence he does not feel. 'She's just fronting. You know chicks. They always gotta front like they're not interested. But we all know the truth. She wants to Ride the Blade.'

'She vonts to ride Blade like I want to go on diet,' Kyrill chuckles, surprising even me. Mike immediately cracks up – it takes me considerable effort not to – but to his credit, Ryder gives as good as he got:

Mike cracks up again as Ryder slaps a confused Kyrill on the shoulder, bouncing back gracefully from a potentially embarrassing situation. Not for the first time in recent weeks, I am aware of just how much my boy has grown. A few months back, being shot down like that by an attractive woman – in front of his friends, no less – would have crushed Ryder; yet now,here he is, brushing it off like a champion. It is a testament to how much he has matured, and it may well be one of the reasons why life at Camp Sprintex has been so enjoyable lately.

Yup, life is good at headquarters, and I daresay Team Sprintex's morale has never been higher. Ryder in particular is positively jubilant, and not even English's attack from a month or so ago has managed to diminish his spirits. I have to say, when Ryder first lost his Xcel Championship, I had serious doubts about whether he could bounce back from it, let alone contend for the World Championship. Now, however? Now, every doubt I may have had is gone. Now, I am fully convinced Ryder can, and probably will, do the impossible – end the reign of Casanova English at Fate of the Gods. English knows it too, judging by the way he has been trying to get inside Ryder's head ever since the challenge was laid out. And the most surprising thing of all is...

...he's failing.

Yes, he's failing. His mindgames are falling flat. Ryder jokes about there being nothing in his head to mess with, but the fact is, nothing English has done so far has managed to faze The Blade. English has hurt his body, but not his mind. Not his spirit. Sure, a part of me knows that's mostly due to Ryder's hugely hyper-inflated ego, but another tiny bit of me wants to believe it's because Ryder grew up, matured. Because Ryder Blade, Sprintex spokesperson and former VoW Champion, has finally transitioned from boy to man.

Whatever the reason may be, the fact remains – spirits at Sprintex HQ are at their highest since the halcyon days of the #XcellentChampion's reign. Ryder's confident and motivated, the two security guards would take a bullet for him, and I am being given a second chance at enjoying something that was taken away from me far too early the first time around.

Hell, I even stopped having those dreams.

I look on with a grin on my face as Ryder continues to rib, and be ribbed by, his security team. I step forward, intending to add my own two cents to the mix, but a familiar sound emanating from my pocket stops me in my tracks.

A personalized ringtone.

One associated with a specific person.

I scramble to answer. 'Hello...'

I can hear her smiling. 'Is it that one aria?'

'La Donna É Mobile, yes.' She knows me so well... 'Somehow, I think it's appropriate.' I chuckle. 'What's up?'

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. 'You too?'

'...I was having them, yeah.' Suddenly, I am inclined to believe in telepathic displacement. 'They stopped now, though. Haven't had them in, oh, two weeks or so.'

'Lucky you.' She sounds annoyed.

'Sorry.' I am suddenly aware of the fact that I am blushing. 'Have you told Hubby Dearest about it, though? What does he think?'

'Hubby Dearest is a jerk,' she spits. 'It doesn't concern him, so it doesn't concern him. Know what I mean?'

I do. And I agree – her new husband's a jerk. Of the highest order. Fortunately, I'm not – and there's no way I'm letting her cope with something like this on her own. It's not like I wouldn't take any excuse to see her anyway, but in this particular instance, it goes beyond that. In this particular instance, I know exactly how awful a place she's in – and how bad it feels to be there. There's no way she's staying there by herself. Not if I can help it.

I expect some sort of objection, perhaps an alternative plan, but nothing comes. Nothing but a soft whimper, barely audible across the airwaves.

'I'll see you at...let's say three PM,' I offer. 'Our usual place.' Meaning the Manhattan Hilton. 'We'll have coffee or something. And talk.'

Another soft whimper is all the confirmation I need. 

'See you then,' I say, by way of sign-off, but an additional comment from her keeps me on the line a few moments longer.

I can hear her smiling again, her sad smile this time. Her most beautiful one.

'...thanks,' she whispers.

And hangs up.

It takes me a moment to come back down to Earth, and readjust to my surroundings. What is it about this woman that makes me act like an awkward schoolboy? I guess it's true what they say about a fool in love...

I get sharply brought back to reality when a football comes hurtling into my temple at roughly Mach 1. I glower at the culprit, who at the very least has the decency to look apologetic.

Ryder points behind me, and I see Mike making a run across the lawn. I try to be mad at them both, only to find that I can't; the only reaction the incident elicits from me is a chuckle and a shake of the head.

'Give me that,' I say. 'I'm going to show you how to throw a real pass.'

I snatch the football out of his hands and prepare to hurl one of my famous Hail Mary's towards Mike, who is already running.

'Watch this, boy,' I call. 'You taking notes?'

Ryder isn't taking notes, though. He is not even paying attention. Instead, his eyes have wandered across the lawn, to where a familiar figure is once again seen crossing from right to left. I throw the ball towards Mike, idly, and walk over to stand by my son. For a moment, we both stand there, in silence, looking at the lone figure of the jogger completing yet another lap in her gruelling quest for fitness.

'She's hot, huh?', I venture, after several seconds have elapsed.

'Smoking hot,' he agrees.

He looks up at me, his eyes widening. 'For real?!'

I nod.

I suddenly remember Izzy and her signature aria. 'It ain't over 'till the fat lady sings, Ryder. And I don't see any fat ladies around here...' I wink. 'Well, apart from Kyrill...'

This predictably throws Ryder into a fit of the giggles, which he only just barely manages to keep under control. It still takes him several moments to regain composure, and even then, his face remains flustered and his eyes watery.

'Pull yourself together, boy,' I snap. 'Woman like that doesn't like a numbnuts.'

This immediately succeeds in sobering up Ryder. I nod, satisfied, and place a hand on my big boy's shoulder.

'Whoa! That was the bomb, Dadmeister! How'd you do that?!'

I hear Ry's voice before I see him. Not like it's hard anyway; boy goes hella loud when he excited. And if he and Boss just been doing what I think they been doing, I ain't blame him, neither; jogger bitch was mad tight.

Couple seconds later, I see Boss and Ry coming up the path towards us. Ry is still running his mouth, and he talking so fast, I ain't make out half of what he saying. I hear enough to know what's up, though, and I was right; lucky sucker got the digits.

'Hey yo Big Dogg! Let The Blade use your tablet real quick!' Ryder goes to grab it off my hand, but I hold on to it tight.

This time, I let him snatch it from my hand. He brings up Instagram, types something into the Search box, and turns it towards me. 

I like them apples a lot. A whole lot. Shortie even more fine when she all made up and posing for selfies and shit.

'Yeah.' Ry's got that grin on his face, the one he gives when he pleased with himself. 'Dad's pick-up game strong.'

'Yeah, Boss,' I say, looking over at him. 'I ain't know you had game...'

'It's not game, Michael', Boss says. 'It's experience. You limp-dicks these days don't know how to talk to a lady. You don't get a girl like Cindi by pretending to bump into her. You have to have class.'

'Yeah?' I laugh. 'So what you do, anyway?'

He looks over at Ryder, and I can't tell boy ain't too sure about none of that. Boss seems to think a shrug is good enough, though, and he lets Ryder off the hook. Me, I just be looking at this shortie on my screen. This shortie R-Dogg probably gone be banging in like a week or two.

Lucky-ass bitch!

'She's a personal trainer, by the way,' Boss says. 'She works with a bunch of celebrities, apparently.'

'Personal trainer, huh?' K-Dogg be drooling over her photos now, too. 'I ask her give Kyrill personal workout. You know?'

He start pumping his hips and shit, cackling and winking at Ry. It cracks me up, but R-Dogg don't seem so amused.

'Hey,' K-Dogg protests. 'We are buddies, yes? We share! No?'

'No.' Ryder gives K-Dogg hella evil eye, and I crack up all over again. I go to say something, bust Ry's chops a little, but just then, the tablet gives off the sound for a new email.

'Oh shit,' I say, opening the message from VoW Headquarters. 'Here we go, R-Dogg!'

The four of us crowd around the tablet, with everyone trying to look over my shoulder and shit. I start scrolling down quickly, going past the first couple matches on the card until I find the name Ryder Blade.

And then everyone gasps, all at the same time.

Well, everyone apart from R-Dogg.

R-Dogg start laughing.

Soon as he starts doing it, everyone be like 'dafuq?' Even Boss. He just be standing there with his mouth hanging open like he just seen Beyonce naked or some shit. Then again, so's K-Dogg. And me, probably. In fact, the only one ain't losing his shit is Ryder. Ryder be cool as a cucumber.

'Ryder,' Boss gasps. 'You did see you're facing Joanna Thade...?'

Ryder stares at Boss. 'Why?' Then, he gets it, and he chuckles. 'Oh. Nah. VoW's intimidation game weak.'

'Well, it's like this. The Blade punked out Little Miss Hot Topic, right? So now they're throwing the girlfriend at him. 'Cause they think the Blade is gonna crap his pants or whatever. What they don't know is...' Ry grins. 'What they don't know is, that was the old Blade. The new Blade ain't scared of anything. The new Blade is the future World Visionary Champion, and STILL the most decorated wrestler in VoW history! And you know what he's gonna do when he steps into that ring on Sunday?' Boss goes to say something, but Ry talks right over him. 'He's gonna punk out Blue's Clues just like he did her girlfriend. Trust.'

Boss looks like he 'bout to say something, but in the end, he just shrugs. 'If you say so...'

This gets everyone staring at R-Dogg again.

'Party City?', Boss says. 'The store?!'

'From Party City?' Boss still ain't believe what he hearing. 'What for?!'

'You can borrow one of mine,' Boss says. 'But Party City?!'

'Dad.' R-Dogg gives Boss this look like he mean business. 'The Blade knows what he's doing. Trust him on this one, a'ight?'

Boss sighs. 'Fine. Party City it is. But it really had better be quick, Ryder. I have places to be at three.'

Boss gives me this look, and he ain't need to say no more. We march our asses back to the car, and it don't even take five minutes before we're heading away from Central Park and into central New York.

Party City, here we come.

III

The Blade knows he shouldn't be doing this.

When Dad said The Blade could come up and choose one of his shirts to wear on his video, he didn't say anything about snooping around in his closet. And normally, The Blade wouldn't have. But this box, bruh. This box just literally fell on The Blade's head. When he was picking out a shirt or whatever. Just WHAM! Falling off the top of the dresser and almost giving The Blade a bump and stuff. And yo, The Blade ain't even opened it himself. It opened when it fell on the floor. All The Blade did was look inside. It wasn't The Blade's fault it was full of cool stuff...

Anyway, long story short, The Blade's been going through this stuff for like the last...ten minutes or whatever...and bruh...it's epic. Mondo weird, but epic. There's all these sports trophies, for like soccer and Little League baseball and stuff...and medals, bruh. Most of them are just like, participation awards or whatever – which is lame 'af', like, for real – but there's like, a first place medal for athletics and a Pee-Wee League soccer trophy, and all this cool stuff from when The Blade was little.

At least The Blade thinks it's his.

Like, whose else could it be, right? Dad ain't got any other kids. He ain't never mentioned any kids from like his brother or whatever. The Blade doesn't think he even has a brother. The only dude who could have won medals and given them to Dad to keep was The Blade. So of course they're his.

But if they're his...why doesn't he remember winning them?

The Blade's been thinking about that a lot lately. About his childhood. Only he hasn't. 'Cause no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to remember anything about it. He's tried. He's tried a bunch of times. Like right now. He concentrated really hard and tried to think back and remember something from when he was little...and he got nothing. The only thing he remembered – the only thing he ever remembers - was wrestling. And that stuff only started last year, yo. What happened to the rest of The Blade's life? The Blade stays meaning to ask Dad, but then something always gets in the way, and he forgets. Until something like this happens, and then he remembers again.

This time, though, he can't forget. This time, The Blade's gotta figure out what's up. This time, The Blade's gotta get Dad to tell him why he can't remember anything from when he was a kid.

Except not right now.

'Cause right now, Dad's on a date, and The Blade's got a video to make.

Later, though. When Dad gets home or whatever.

Yeah. For sure.

Later.

IV

Last night was amazing.

There's no other way to describe it. It was just...mind-blowing. Life-affirming. Paradigm-changing.

It was just. That. Good.

Don't ask me what came over Izzy and me. All we ever planned to do was meet up for coffee and talk about these fucked up dreams we've both been having. Maybe let out some inner demons. Hash out Christmas Eve, 2013. But Izzy was scared, and lonely, and needy, and one thing led to another, and next thing either of us knew it was six in the morning of the next day – of today- and Izzy's husband was due back from the airport at any moment.

I guess you could say it's irresponsible,for two middle-aged squares like Izzy and I to be tripping the light fantastic like a pair of college kids. But as it turns out, last night was exactly what both of us needed. Not just to figure out our feelings about Christmas 2013, but to figure out our feeings about each other. Namely the fact that they're definitely still there, and not at all one sided.

Perhaps that's why I'm not at all surprised to catch myself humming Izzy's area as I swipe my keycard at the door and enter Sprintex Headquarters. As I step foot in the large, open-plan living area, my thoughts immediately turn to a shower, prior to me crashing into bed until at least lunchtime. I may have felt like I was nineteen a few hours ago, but right now, I feel exactly like an old man who's been up way too long and had far too much excitement for one night.

As the saying goes, though, 'best laid plans of mice and men...' Because no sooner have I stepped through to the living area than I am accosted by a decidedly awake, decidedly excited Ryder.

'Not now, Ryder,' I groan, prising my jacket out of Ryder's grasp. 'I'm really tired. I'm going to bed.'

'Please, Dad.' he pleads. 'The Blade and J-Dogg stayed up all night making it!'

'J-Dogg?' My brain must be hearing things. 'Jamie?! You had him here overnight?!'

Ryder tugs at my sleeve again, and my resistance breaks down. He's not going to leave me alone until I look at whatever it is he has to show me, anyway; in that respect, he is as stubborn as a four-year-old. I'd better just humor him and get it over with; the sooner this is done, the sooner I can hit the hay.

'The Blade doesn't think it's as cool as it could have been.' Ryder says through my exhaustion haze. 'We sort'a ran outta time. But it's still pretty cool.'

Whatever this is, I think tiredly, had better really be good. Otherwise, somebody's going to get yelled at. A lot.

I let Ryder lead me down the stairs and into a darkened room. It is not until I see Jamie sprawled out on the settee, an unfinished pizza over his chest, fast asleep, that I realize where we are. 

The media room.

These boys were up all night making a video.

'Did you guys get any sleep last night?' I look around at the multiple empty cans of Red Bull and Sprintex littering the messy division, and immediately know the answer.

''Bout as much as you did, Dadhead.' Ryder quips. I can't help but chuckle, in spite of myself; I had that one coming.

'But yo, check this out!' Ryder moves over to one of the laptops, which is hooked up to the projection screen. He presses a couple of buttons, and his enlarged face pops up on the big screen overhead, the software's taskbar barely visible underneath it. Ryder drags the cursor over to the bottom left-hand corner, clicks 'Play', and leans against the wall as his pre-recorded twin addresses the camera.

Before Pre-Recorded Ryder can finish his spiel, however, a static effect is superimposed over the footage, cutting off his speech. When the image once again clears, his regular self has been replaced with what is obviously just him in a blue wig and wearing one of my own oversized shirts, the sleeves crossing over the front and tied at the back in a clear imitation of a straitjacket.

Suddenly, I'm no longer tired.

And suddenly, I know why Ryder wanted to go to Party City.

'Who the heck are you?!' Video Ryder scowls in feigned surprise.

'The Thaaaaaade,' Blue Wig Ryder replies, in a hissing cackle. 'Chaos, Chaos, Chaos, crazy, crazy, crazy.'

'The Thade?!' Regular Ryder's frown deepens. 'What the heck do you want?!'

'The Thade is taking over your videooooo,' Blue Wig hisses again. 'You worthless meatsack. 'Chaos, Chaos, Chaos, crazy, crazy, crazy.'

'Taking over The Blade's video? Jokes!' I must admit, the editing is masterful. It really does look as though the two characters are having a conversation. We should probably start paying Jamie  for this sort of thing.

'Oh really?' Regular Ryder chuckles. 'What you gonna do, babe? Talk The Blade to death?'

'That's right,' Regular Ryder quips. 'You got nothing. Know why? 'Cause that's all you and the rest of the Insane Goth Posse ever do. Talk. Man, do you guys talk. You talk almost as much as you lose!'

'WHAAAAAT?!?!?' The blue-haired apparition half-rises from its seat, 'incensed'. 'How DARE you!!! The Thade will DESTROY you!!! Chaos, Chaos, Chaos, crazy, crazy, crazy!!!!'

'Oh really? What, like the Molding Breath Princess did? ...oh wait...' Real-life Ryder chuckles at his own joke. He clearly had a blast with this.

Screen Ryder seems less than fazed by this threat. 

'You worthless meatsack,' 'The Thade' roars. 'Wins and losses don't matter!!! It's all about the message!!! Chaos, Chaos, Chaos, crazy, crazy, crazy!!!'

'The message?' Real Ryder scoffs again. 'What message?'

Video Ryder feigns nervousness at this outburst, holding up his arms. 'Yo, take a chill pill, babe! Geez!'

'NEVER!!! The Thade is gonna make a point!!! The Thade is gonna...uhhh.....' 'The Thade' looks around 'her' and leans over to pick something up off the floor. A moment later, 'she' presents an officially licensed Ryder Blade action figure to the camera. 

'The Thade is totally gonna trash this action figure of you!! RAAAARRRGGHH!!' 'She' then proceeds to hit the toy a few times with a squeaky rubber mallet, as 'she' yells: 'Are you scared yet?! Be scared!! This is totally wacky and crazy and scary!!! YAAAARGHHH!!!! Chaos, Chaos, Chaos, crazy, crazy, crazy!!!'

Video Ryder, however, merely watches on unperturbed, even feigning a yawn and looking at his watch.

'You done?', he asks after a few seconds. ''Cause The Blade's got hish to say to...well, you.'

'Uh...not even,' Ryder objects. 'Who here is the Number One Contender to the World Visionary Championship?' 'The Thade' makes as though to answer, but Ryder does not let 'her'. 'Thought so...'[.color]

This has 'The Thade' speechless for a moment, but 'she' quickly bounces back:

'Yeah, right...you 'beat' her.' The air quotes tell the whole story. 'Just like your boo thang beat that Heath dude. Y'know, maybe next time The Blade will use a bunch of chair shots and have one of his dudes dress up as the ref . Maybe then he'll beat  Connie too.'

This time, the fake Joanna is well and truly stumped, allowing Video Ryder to expound a bit further:

'Look, babe...no offence...but check it. This is The Blade. Up here.' He holds up a hand at about nose level, then brings up his other one to rest slightly below it. 'This is you. You're good, but you're not up here good. You're not beating the number one contender good. You get a couple of wins, and you scare a bunch of noobs with your girlfriend, but The Blade is in a whole other league. And in The Blade's league, dudes don't get scared by ghost train costumes and big words. So if you wanna play mindgames with The Blade, you're gonna have to do better than that. You dig?'

'...and one more thing.' Ryder points off-screen, presumably at 'The Thade''s ineffectual rubber mallet. 'You know that thing you like so much? The real one, not that one. Guess what? If you use it against The Blade? DQ, baby! Unless you get your boo to kill the referee again so you can say you beat the last two Xcel Champions. But even then, you, The Blade, and everyone at VoW is gonna know the truth...' The Ryder Smirk makes a late but inevitable appearance. 'Besides, if Molting Breath Princess even tries to get involved, The Blade's got his dudes at ringside. And The Blade can tell you, babe...those two don't mess around!'

This time, however, Video Ryder seems to have lost his patience. 'Right. The Blade's had about enough of you. Get the heck out of his video!'

'Oh, JoJo,' comes a sudden voice from offscreen, presumably Jamie's. 'Come along now. Kat says it's almost time for your anal probe...'

'Wait,' 'The Thade' shrieks. 'Not now! The Thade's not done!! The Thade's got more dumb stuff to say...The Thade means...scary stuff...wait...NO...NOOOOO!!!'

The scream becomes lost in static as the footage once again focuses on Regular Ryder, who shrugs and shakes his head.

A moment later, after a final, dry chuckle from the World Visionary contender, the video ends.

'Well?', Real-Life Ryder asks almost straight away. 'What did you think?'

'Amazing,' I say sincerely. 'You guys did a hell of a job. Congratulations.'

'Oh yeah,' I state. 'You got inside her head, all right. It was like I was seeing her on screen. Quite a performance.'

'That's not what The Blade meant, Dad.' He grins. 'But thanks, yo!'

'Dad, wait!! The Blade had something to ask you!!' He groans in agony. 'Oh man, The Blade forgot! Bummer!' He stamps his foot angrily. 'It was real important, too...'

'It couldn't have been that important if you can't remember it, Ryder,' I snap. 'Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going into the shower. Goodnight.'

I don't give my ward the chance to put another word in edgewise; I immediately tramp upstairs and let the delectable stream of piping hot water relax my muscles, and put the perfect capper on a perfect night. 

Or so I think.

For when I enter my bedroom and open my dresser, I notice something slightly out of place. The box where I keep Freddy's mementos, his medals and trophies from playing sports growing up. It normally sits way at the back of the shelf, but now, it is placed towards the front.

And its lid is half open.

Somebody's looked inside.

My stomach lurches as I suddenly have a pretty fair idea of what it was Ryder wanted to ask me back there.

And then sinks at the realization that I don't know how to answer him.