Post by Ryder Blade on Jul 30, 2016 21:47:18 GMT -6
I
DAD
Sprintex HQ, New York City
July 30, 2016 8.00AM
Today is going to be a five-coffee day.
I just know it. I can feel it. It's going to be one of those days where it's going to take all my strength not to just say 'fuck it', grab Izzy and elope to a desert island somewhere. (Then again, desert islands might not be such a good idea, considering the kind of dreams I've been having...)
Still, it's going to take all of my force of will to plow through the mountain of business emails that greeted me the first time I turned on my laptop after coming back from the Caribbean. I guess, when you take a two-week cruise and you're too stubborn to hire a PR agent, this kind of shit is to be expected; but that doesn't mean it's not still going to drive me up the wall every single goddamn time.
I look at the clock. 8AM. Over an hour I've been at this, and I've only just skimmed off the top of this pile of shit. It seems everyone in the known universe picked my annual holiday to suddenly write in and demand shit. Or maybe I just don't see it the rest of the time because I'm dealing with it on a daily basis. Whatever the case, it's really fucking annoying, and it's going to take the best part of my Saturday.
'Dear Matthew', I type, changing only the name of the recipient on what is otherwise a template letter. 'Thank you for enquiring about a sponsorship opportunity for our athlete Ryder Blade. Sprintex Industries Plc will be reviewing its sponsorship and partnership policy in upcoming weeks and will keep you in mind as a potential partner and sponsor. We aim to get back to you within two working weeks; if, after this time, you still have not heard back from us, assume your application for a sponsorship was unsuccessful. Sincerely yours, etc.'
I have just finished adding the real digital signature I made for one of my many fake names – I may be halfway legit now, but you can never be too careful – when I hear that most welcome of voices behind me:
'Charlie?! What the hell are you doing up?! It's Saturday!'
I swivel around in my chair to face Izzy, who looks stunning in one of my old shirts, her blonde hair tousled over her face, her skin under the makeshift nightie no doubt still sensitive and humid to the touch. I resist the urge to jump her bones right there and then, and instead gesture to the computer screen:
'This ain't going to get itself done, honey. When you're a businessman and you go away for two weeks to sunbathe in the middle of the ocean, you get an inbox that looks like this waiting for you when you return. You should know this! Doesn't Hubby Dearest let you in on his business deals?'
'Hubby Dearest is barely home long enough to make me cum, let alone talk business.' God, I love when this woman talks dirty! 'So what, are you just going to spend the rest of the day doing that?'
''Fraid so, babe. Looks like it's going to be a five-coffee day.'[/cplor]
'Oh.' Izzy's expression of vague annoyance suddenly turns to a smirk of sympathy. 'One of those, huh?'
'Yup. Looks like it.'
'Well then...' Her smile widens, her green eyes twinkling behind her tousled mane for a second before she pushes it out of her face. '...guess I'd better get to making you the first of the five...'
She starts padding through to the kitchen area, but I stop her with a raised finger.
'Don't worry 'bout it, Iz. I'll get the boys to make it. You go back to bed and sleep in while you can.'
She looks at me with that one expression of hers, the one that's half amused, half thankful.
'The boys couldn't make a cuppa joe if the beans jumped into the boiling water on their own. You need some real, strong, true-blue coffee, wifey-style. I got this.'
She resumes padding into the kitchen, and I return to my emails, grateful that she cared enough to tend to my number one need this exact moment. I have barely begun to rifle through the scores of template answers again, however, when the significance of her exact words hits me.
'Wifey-style.'
'Wifey-style.'
I don't even make an effort to wipe the big, goofy grin off my features as I continue to mow my way through my inbox. The next few emails are dispatched almost imperceptibly, my every action mechanised, my head swimming in cotton-candy clouds of bliss.
She's making me a real coffee, wifey-style.
Take that, McAllister. You fucking self-centered fucking prick.
I'm screwing your wife. How 'bout them apples?
And what's more. Soon as she can divorce you, she's running straight back to me again. She told me so. And then we'll be a family again. Buy a little villa in the Caribbean somewhere. Maybe St Lucia. Get a dog. And of course, we'll adopt...
My heart stops as my brain suddenly flows with remembered sounds. Sounds of someone banging drawers and opening the fridge in the kitchen when I came down the stairs. Someone who obviously couldn't sleep and decided to fix himself an early breakfast ahead of his morning training.
Someone who is still there.
In the kitchen.
In my kitchen.
That my ex-wife just walked into.
Suddenly, I can't get out of my chair fast enough. The remaining e-mails – all one-hundred and forty-three of them – sit in my Inbox, forgotten, as I stumble around the edge of my desk and across the communal seating area, headed for the kitchen.
'Izzy!, I croak.
But even then, I know it's too late.
Even then, I know my ex-wife will have probably met my new son.
II
RYDER
Sprintex HQ, New York City
July 30, 2016 8.15AM
'Right on!'
I pump my fist in the air as the Abra goes into my collection. That sucker was sitting on Dad's toaster, of all places! Well, not anymore. Now it's in The Blade's Pokedex, and about to get a new name. And since it's a girl, and Abras are all about magic and stuff, I think I'm gonna name her after Harry Potter Girl from VoW...what's her name again? Zahra? Zabra? Zabra Cadabra? That's it, right?
Ah, screw it. I'm just gonna call her Magic Girl.
Magic Girl goes into the Pokedex, and I turn my attention back to The World's Most Epic Bacon Sandwich. Seriously, this thing should go on Epic Meal Time. But I'm not that dude, so the only place its going is the bottom of my belly. Just as soon as I'm done putting extra stuff on it.
Suddenly, as I'm working on TWMEBS, somebody comes into the kitchen. It's Dad's babe, the only who nearly ran us out of her house that one time when we went to see her. She's kind'a come round since – The Blade does that to people – but it's always super awkward for me around her, because derp. You don't just run somebody off your property and then turn around and be BFFs with them.
Good thing is, it's just as awkward for her as it is for me. I don't know what her deal is with me – I guess I remind her of Drop Dead Fred – but she ain't too hot on being around me, either. Like now, for example; she just kind'a stops in her tracks and gives me this look, like I'm not supposed to be here. It only lasts a second, but it's there, and I totally see it; this lady still ain't digging on The Blade. Which is fine, I guess; haters gonna hate, and all that shizz. At least she ain't pretending to like me, like some other chicks Dad knows. Nah, Blonde Lady hates me, and she ain't tryna front otherwise.
'Hi.' This throws me off, 'cause I totally wasn't expecting it. I was expecting her to just do her thing and get as far away from me as she could, as fast as she could; I sure as heck wasn't expecting her to start a freaking conversation!
'Hey.'
'How's it going?'
'Okay.'
'Good.'
'Yeah.'
That's as much as we say to one another for a good long while, and it looks like she doesn't mind it much. I don't mind it either – which is why I'm totally surprised myself when I hear myself ask her:
'So...you and Dad...what's up with that?'
She's surprised too; she sort of starts and turns to look at me. 'Excuse me?'
'Yeah. You and Dad. What's the deal? You guys FWB's? 'Cause I know you ain't dating while you're still married...right?'
She doesn't reply straight away; instead, she just looks at me a while longer, like she's studying me or something. Then she talks again – but not to answer my question.
'Don't call him that.'
Wha--? 'Wha--?'
'Don't call him that!'
What's this lady talking about? Don't call him what?
'Don't call him what?'
'That. 'Dad'.'
'Don't call him Dad?!'
'Yeah.'
What the heck--?
'But he is Dad!'
'No, he's not.'
'Yeah, he is. The first time we met, he said 'call me Dad.' Every time after that, he's been Dad. He's...Dad.'
'No, he's not!' She's sort of clenching her fists, and getting teary-eyed and stuff. Her voice sounds like she's about to cry, too. 'He's not your real father! He only had one son, and it wasn't you!'
'Whoa...chillax, lady!' I grin at her, try to make her stop freaking out. 'I know he ain't. I know you ain't my real mother, either. I know where I come from.' I smile again, bigger this time; let her see I ain't trying to take nothing away from her. 'I know all about Freddy, too. And like, real talk? I ain't trying to---'
'Don't talk about him,' she says, in this real cold tone, cutting me off. She's giving me this look, too, like she wants to split me in half or something. Real freaky-deaky. I realize I done goofed, and go to apologise, but she just slams Dad's mug under the tap of the coffee machine – the one that says 'OLD DUDES DO IT BEST' on it - and lets it fill right up to the top.
'You know, I gave him that mug. On his b--'
She slams the mug down on the counter and adds sugar. She's so angry, she makes it spill everywhere and has to clean it up with a paper towel. Then, she turns to leave, probably thinking she's spent way too much time hanging around me already...
...and that's when I see it.
'Hey lady, you know there's a Pokémon next to your leg?'
She jumps and gives out this little shriek, exactly at the same time as I throw a Pokéball. Ekans. Freakin' A.
'Where is it? I don't see anything!'
'It's in here.' I tap my phone. 'I caught it.'
'You...caught it?!'
'Yeah. I caught it. I'm a qualified trainer.' This lady clearly doesn't get Pokémon Go. I could explain what it is to her, but I think I'll pass; it's way more fun to troll her.
She ain't taking the bait any more, though; instead, she's giving me this look like I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. I go to say something else, confuse her even more, but she turns away, and goes through to give Dad his coffee. Fine by me; I gotta name my stone snake anyway. But I ain't too sure what to call it. It kind'a reminds me of Princess Gothface, but I was saving her for when I caught a Gengar or a Haunter. This dude, though...this dude could be...
...I'm still trying to decide when I hear my phone ring. A Skype notification. I swipe out of Pokemon Go and look at my notifications. Turns out, someone wants to add me on Skype. And that someone is...
...no way.
'Why would he be--?' My thought trails off as I run my finger over the 'Decline' button. I ain't too sure I want this guy on my Skype. Heck, I ain't too sure I want him anywhere near me, after what happened last time. And I didn't think he wanted anything to do with me, either. But here he is, sending me a Skype request, like we crew or some shizz.
My finger is still over the 'Decline' button, and for like the third time I stop myself from bringing it down. I stare at the screen some more, at the name of the guy who wants to add me, somebody I never even knew had Skype, the last person I'd expect to look for me there...
My finger moves left, to press the green 'Accept' button.
'Bring it on, bruh,' I mutter, as I begin to type.
III
MIKE
Sprintex HQ, New York City
July 30, 2016 8.23AM
I dunno 'bout nobody else, but I like to start my Saturday with toast, OJ and a nice, warm cuppa joe. Have a real breakfast...know what I mean? Sitting at the table, reading the paper, watching Kyrill stuff his face...shit like that. Weekend shit.
That's how I start most my Saturdays. But it ain't how I'm starting this Saturday. This Saturday, I'm starting listening to Boss chew me and K-Dogg out, when we barely awake enough to fight back. Which, I think everyone agrees, ain't the way you want to start a Saturday.
'This can't go on like this,' Boss is saying. 'Ryder can't keep running around getting himself into trouble, and sticking his nose into other people's business. I'm gonna need you two to keep a closer watch on him again.'
'Damn, Boss,' I object. 'Ry's a big boy. He can take care a' himself!'
Boss, however, ain't convinced. 'If he could take care of himself, he would have left well enough alone, and let Emma Carlisle weaken down English for him. Instead, what does that dumbass do? Run in swinging a chair, make everybody thinking he's buddies with English now, and get himself booked in a tag match with a partner he can't trust as far as he can throw him!'
Boss is mad as fuck, all red in the face and shit. Normally, when he like that, ain't nothing you can say ain't gon' get your ass chewed off; but today, for some reason, I feel like I can risk it. Today, I feel like maybe Boss is gon' listen.
'Thing is though, Boss...'
K-Dogg looks at me like I gone stone crazy, interrupting Boss when he mad like that. Maybe I did. Either way, I ain't give a fuck.
'Thing is,' I continue. 'We ain't never been no babysitters for Ryder. We protected him, but we ain't never treat him like he need his diaperr changed. We start doing that now, he gon' be pissed. Shit's gon' get worse.'
'Michael...'
Boss is trying real, real hard not to blow up; okay, I think maybe I fucked up interrupting him.
'Michael,' he says again. 'Did I ask for your opinion?'
'No, Boss. But trust me on this. I had kids. I--'
'Michael.'
Now Boss talking in that tone says if you keep giving him attitude, you gon' end up dead, or worse. Okay, so I really fucked up interrupting him.
'Michael. Shut it. Now..'
'Uh...you got it, Boss.' I want to say something, anything, try to convince him not to do this, but it's too risky He just too angry. Better just agree for now, try again when he cools off. Boss ain't a bad guy; you can talk to him most times. It's just when he pissed, you better get your ass out the way if you don't want to get run over. I ain't want to get run over, so I get my ass in gear.
'Good. Now. I want you boys with him at all times from now on. No more 'trust me'. No more 'I'll only be a minute.' All. The. Time.. Are we understood?'
Boss leans over his desk, with that look in his face says he wants to hear what he wants to hear. So me and Kyrill tell him what he want to hear.
'Yeah, boss.'
'Yeah, boss.'
Boss nods. 'Good. Now...go find him.'
I gawk at Boss. 'What, right now?!'
''All the time' means 'ALL THE TIME', Michael. Any time Ryder's out of your sight, unless he's sleeping or in the bathroom, you ain't doing your job. And any time you ain't doing your job, I'm going to get angry. Understood?'
We ain't even need to hear the end of that; we already scrambling out the door to go look for Ryder. Way Boss is acting, I can tell we got a long-ass day ahead of us; one that's gon' take a hell of a lot of coffee to get through.
Yeah. Today gon' be a five coffee day for sure.
IV
RYDER
Sprintex HQ, New York City
July 30, 2016 8.35AM
I've only just sent my last message to English when Big Dogg and K-Dogg come running into the kitchen like the house was on fire.
'What are you dudes all worked up about?' I grin. 'Lemme guess, you saw that foxy lady Dad's banging in the nude, and you want The Blade to come see her too. Am I right?'
'Boss wanted us to come find you,' Big Dogg says. He's pulling this face that says he ain't up for jokes today, and my grin drops. 'The hell you doin' over there with your phone anyway? You playin' Pokemon?'
'Nah, bruh. I was on Skype.'
Big Dogg frowns. 'On Skype? Who with?' Then, sort of to himself: '...oh man, Boss ain't gon' like this...'
'With...uh...Big Cass.' Even saying it feels weird! I can't believe that actually went down!
'Big C--Casanova?! English?!' Mike pulls an O-face, and I shrug.
'Yeah...weird, right?'
'YOU WERE ON SKYPE WITH WHOM?!?!'
We all nearly jump off our skins, and turn around to the kitchen door. Dad's there, and he looks like he's ready to kill somebody.
'Uh...Big Cass. But--'
Dad doesn't even give me time to finish. He snatches the phone off my hand and starts going through my Skype conversation with Cassie.
'HEY YO! What gives, Snoop Doggy Dad?! Ever heard of invasion of privacy?' And I mean it, too. It ain't right to just go snooping around other's people's private stuff!
'I don't give a shit about your privacy right now,' Dad growls. Then, reading more of my conversation with the BMOC: 'Oh God...oh, shit...oh, God...' He puts his hands on his head, gives me this look like I just let rip, a really loud, wet one.
'Ryder,' he says, running his hands down his face. 'Are you trying to get in trouble with English?!'
'Nah, Dad. It's just...The Blade's gotta show Cassie he ain't no punk...you dig? Emma was trying to butt in on my turf. I had to do something to help them remember they weren't just dealing with English!'
'Yeah, and in the process, you got yourself booked in a tag match, with a 'partner' who wants your head just as bad as your opponents, against a team who are known for how well they work together. And this isn't a hare-brained idea how...?'
I shrug. 'It's gonna be cool, Dadhead. It's like I said, I beat both the Insane Goth Posse on my own. Only way we can lose this is if English screws up. And you saw I told him not to. And I'm gonna tell him again later.' I try a smile. 'It's gonna be fine, Dad. Trust me. Okay?'
When I ask this, Dad and Big Dogg and K-Dogg all sort of start. K-Dogg and Big Dogg look over at Dad, but for the first time, like, ever, he's lost for words. Me, I don't wait around to know what's going on; there's too much stuff going round my head that I got to get out, like, now. So I grab Big Dogg by the arm and drag him away, kicking and screaming. I got a bunch of stuff to say to English, and I ain't about to waste any time.
V
MIKE
Sprintex HQ, New York City
July 30, 2016 8.51AM
'Alright dawg, you ready?'
No fancy set-ups or locations, this time; just the Sprintex HQ sitting area, with Ry sitting on one of the couches, the one facing the door.
'I'm ready, bruh.'
'All right, hang on.' I make sure everything's in focus and centered and all that shit, then call out:
'...an' we rollin'!'
'I know what everybody's asking.'
Ry gets straight into it, no lube, no foreplay. I remember when this kid used to waste hella time in videos. Dude really came a long way.
'Everybody's asking 'hey yo Blademeister, what the heck?! How you gonna bail out English, yo?!' Well, um, derp? First of all, can't let Princess Gothface run around thinking she rules the yard; I had to let her know if she wants to get to the top, she's gonna have to go through the stage boss first...again.'
Smirk comes out, and we rollin', and we rollin'...
'Second of all, can't have the Insane Goth Posse nail English to a freaking cross and put the dude in the hospital or whatever. Can't let him have an excuse for bailing out on giving me a rematch. 'Cause oooooh yeah, I'm coming for that rematch, baby! Sure as Patrick Jones having a lifetime losing record!'
Gotta have that Patrick Jones dig in there...
'So now we're in this tag match, and I know what everyone's thinking. Chaos are like, the best-oiled machine in the history of anything, and those other two guys can't even go five minutes without wanting to kill each other. This one's a no-brainer, right?
Um....nope.'
Ryder leans forward, meaning ain't no more fun and games; this is serious business.
'See, the first part, the part about the Black Veil Brides being well-oiled and stuff...that was true. They spend like, a hundred and three percent of their time together, mostlycausetheyain'tgotanyfriendsbutwhatever...it helps them know one another and have like rhythms and strategies and all that tag team bullshizzle. Me and English? We ain't got that. We never worked together, and we don't even wanna work together now. So yeah, the part about Chaos kind'a having the advantage is true. Except they've got one tiny little problem...
...they lose, they lose, they lose they lose they lose, lose lose lose, lose lose lose....the Emma and JoJo Shooooow!'
The Ryder Smirk comes back, and Ry takes a little bow. The fooling don't last too long, though; pretty soon, he's back doing his thang.
'Seriously, those chicks lost to everyone. They lost to The Blade – both of them – and as a team, they lost to those Neon chicks, twice. Nobody takes them seriously anymore. They're not a threat.
...and if you really believe that, joke's on you. Grats, bruh. You're an idiot.'
Whoa. Say whatnow?!
'Of course they're a threat. Especially now they've lost a bunch. 'Cause they're gonna want to prove they weren't flukes back in the day. And what better way to do that than beating the Top Two, the Big Kahunas, the Prime Time Players?! Sure...Chaos are looking at us and seeing their next meal. It's like, I dunno, lions or whatever. When the gazelles or whatever are like running around in a pack, the lions can't catch them; but when the gazelles start crowding each other's plates and stuff...that's when they get whacked. Emma and JoJo are thinking they can divide and conquer, or whatever that Little Caesar dude said like two million years ago.'
Think you're getting your Caesars mixed up there, Ry. We ain't talking pizza here.
'But see, what Emma and JoJo aren't seeing is who they're trying to use as prey. Two guys who can't work together, sure; but more importantly, two guys who hate losing. Especially the one who's been undefeated on Breaktrhough since signing with VoW, and maybe kind'a doesn't want to chump out now. And the other dude? He's done some stuff. Like him or not, he's done some stuff. Legit or not, that's another matter, but it's there, and it's got his name on it. And on Thursdaym he's gonna be trying to prove those weren't flukes; he's gonna be trying to prove he can hang with the two people who want a shot at his title. So, I dunno...I think those two dudes aren't that screwed.'
Ryder's smirk grows real big again.
'See, those guys out there in West Virginia...they're spoiled. On Thursday, they're gonna get to see The Phenomenon! The Messiah! The two most decorated athletes in VoW history!!!'
Ryder pumps his fist and whoops, before delivering the zinger:
'...Oh yeah, and there's some goth chicks too.'
Like a baws!
'Just kidding, babes, just kidding. VoW may not have made this the Main Event – The Blade gets it, hometown boy's gotta have his 15 minutes before he goes back to not being booked – but the peeps out there in Morgantown know...like The Blade knows, and English knows, and the Chaotix know...that this...is the real Main Event. And everyone's like, connected, and has a whole bunch riding on it and shizz...it's gonna be six degrees of Casanova English up in that place on Thursday!'
Ry leans forward again, his face as close to the camera as he can get it.
'So Cassie...don't mess this up, bruh.'
Then, he stands up, and makes to walk off 'stage'. I go to turn the camera off, but Ry holds up a finger. I frown, but he just grins and walks over to Boss's stereo. He plugs his phone into it, looks for a track, and smiles back up at the camera.
'This one's for you, bae.'
Then, he really does walk off, leaving the music track playing; and when I hear what it is, I damn near drop the tablet right there and then from how hard I'm laughing.
'I see you ride around town with the girl I love, and I'm like
Fuck yo-o-ou....'