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Prologue
Trouble in Paradise

Into the Pit!
Albuquerque, New Mexico

"Nikki....NIKKI!"

I know she can hear me, but the pace of her step quickens as she passes through production. I've been where she is and normally this is when I'd comfort her, but I'm pretty sure she's disgusted at the sight of me. I could reach Nikki if I jog, though I'd have a kick in the nuts waiting for me when I got there. I should probably stop myself and hope that she'll find me once the initial shock wears off. Yet I can't make my feet stop moving. I have to catch her, just so she understands I'm here. But she's gone around a corner in an instant, just like the title she worked so hard to regain. And it's my fault, as much as it pains me to admit.

Finally, I slow down. Of all the ill-timed things I've done in my career, this one is perhaps the most devestating. Only it wasn't supposed to be. Cam and Penny were transported to the hospital just minutes before, and several people backstage found themselves scrambling to find a replacement on commentary. I shouldn't have volunteered, but they were left with very few options and I just happened to be the best one. Considering Drakz and Ahriman were the alternatives, I was feeling pretty good about my choice when I strolled down the ramp. That is until she saw me sitting at the booth, and that's when sh*t started getting testy. Maybe it's time I acknowledge that my own tunnel vision hurt the one I love most.

"Did you see which way Nikki went?" I ask Sam Buffington, one of the tech hands wandering backstage. "I need to see if she's alright."

"Last time I saw her, she was walking toward the locker room."

He nods while walking by, doing very little to quell my hysteria. I suppose this is an appropriate time to mention that rule number one's the hardest to keep from breaking, especially when your personal life intertwines with your professional. I can't use that as justification though, because what solidarity SOS has shown through every tribulation just got disintegrated in one night. And as the leader, it's on me to shoulder that responsibility. Urchins the likes of Drakz, Demon, and Ahriman should walk a mile in my shoes, on second thought make that all of them including Nikki. She's blinded about exactly how much I do as a whole with her misplaced anger and self doubt, and I find whole thing tragic. It's my job to be the realist and see our plight for what it is, not hers because she doesn't have the experience needed to lead. I want to shield her away from realizing we're barely hanging on. But my best intention was scoffed at as though I were an incompetent spouse. Truthfully I don't know which is worse, feeling useless or being rendered as such. I hate harvesting this anger toward anything that isn't productive, and it's times like this I want to stop caring. But I can't.

Finally, I force myself to sit down on an equipment crate. As my chin rests upon my palms, the incessant clicking of Lila's heels grow louder as she approaches.

"Some people are not very grateful, don't you think?"

I stare aimlessly ahead as Lila leans up against the wall, trying to get a read on me. Lila Lila Lila, just get on with this.

"I guess what Drakz said really got to her."

"I suppose."

"It's not rocket science, Josh." Lila says, calmly turning to face me. "What other explanation could there be for Nikki going off the rails?"

"Very few people are aware of Nikki's custody battle." I say with my face buried in my hands. "So aside from the members of SOS, the front office knows how much is on her plate."

"And you think I'm the whistle blower?"

"Guilty conscious much?"

"I'm not guilty of anything but helping you eliminate dead weight."

"Ok, spare me the looking out for my best interest speech." I huff. "Many people before you have given me this speech, and they all did it better."

"Why do you have so much disdain for me, Josh?" She asks, crossing her arms and gazing at me with puppy dog eyes. "I'm only clearing the path for you because of what's at stake."

"And you seem to believe systematically dissecting my team is the way to go?" I ask, finally turning to her. "Well, I hope you're proud of your work."

"I don't like what you're implying..."

"I'm not implying, but flat out telling you that someone in the administration has it out for me." I snap, raising my head as I jump off the equipment crate. "And you just happen to fit the profile because you're really playing the middle to see which team you want on."

Looking offended, Lila quickly composes herself before asking, "What about Trace?"

"What about him?"

"For starters, he's our boss."

"So?"

"Wouldn't be easier to side with him? Besides, he's the one that's been constantly poking at you." She begins. "Making unannounced visits to your firm, the situation with Nikki, even what he did to Penny earlier is all by design."

"Listen, the stage isn't big enough to deal with him yet." I retort. "I know what he wants, and I'm the only avenue left for him to travel."

"What do you mean the only avenue?"

"The fact is that Trace only agreed to sign me back last year because he thought I'd flame out by now, but I've done quite the opposite. Now, being one of our most personable ambassadors is great and all." I begin. "However, beating Drakz gives me leverage with a big middle finger to point in his direction"

"Well, you're not going to beat Drakz if your focus is divided."

I chuckle at Lila's prediction before asking her, "You still don't understand why I came back, do you?"

"Enlighten me, please."

"I'm correcting history, darlin'."

Lila looks at me dumbfounded, but its easier to let her figure out what that means. It's been a very long time since I've been in position to control my own destiny, and I admit I can see its appeal. Ironically the very people I have brought along with me on this journey are falling to the wayside, some in more destructive ways than others. Nikki was my rock, and having her on the road with me has always provided much needed balance. Now I'm not so sure, and I find it becoming harder to rationalize where I stand. My stock in the company is as high as it's been since... well the last time I had a shot at the title, yet the timing could've been better. Oh great, I just summarized my whole career with another metaphor. I don't know how true it is now though, because I truly believe there's never a bad time to be at the top of your game.

"Get it yet?"

"Not quite, but I have little doubt that you're about to tell me."

"I may or may not tell you." I say. "But that all depends on whether or not you're willing to play ball with your next champion."

I turn on my heel to walk away, but not before Lila shot out, "Don't let the excess baggage weigh you down, Josh. It'd be a real shame if a lucrative main event were ruined because you're too concerned about people who just dream."

****

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's apparent you don't need me."

"Now what gave you that impression?"

"Where do I start?"

"How about the part that made you think it was a good idea to pack up all your stuff." I say, walking over and slamming her suitcase shut. "This would be a good time to start explaining."

"We never talk anymore." Nikki says, walking back toward the closet. "You're hardly home, and half the time you carry work with you."

"Comes with the territory." I retort, failing to hide my confusion. "I don't know why you all of a sudden object to it."

"Because this isn't what I signed up for." Nikki asserts, calmly proceeding with her business. "I'm just- the whole company seems like a crapshoot."

"Welcome to WFWF, the wild west professional wrestling."

"And you think it's funny?"

"It's become a habit to laugh at the hypocrisy."

"Well, I'm not in the mood for humor."

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, a look of concern crossing my face. "You want me to tell you that there'll come a day where we can rest, that eventually we won't have to worry ourselves with every new prospect looking to use us as a springboard."

"Is that too much to ask?"

"It's not realistic!"

Throughout the entirety of our relationship, that's the first time I've been anything other than even keel with Nikki. I hate that I raised my voice, even for a moment. She still has a lot to learn about our profession, however, mostly because I've made it a point to shield her from the sordid practices others use to get ahead. What happened in Japan was merely a microcosm, but it was effective enough to shake her confidence. I tried to warn Nikki about the dangerous game she was entering with that tournament, but the allure of holding two championships simultaneously is a very enticing proposition. I'm using her experience as a cautionary tale, because my own career path has placed me in a similar dilemma. Throughout WFWF history, tag teams generally don't last very long due to one partner's plotting behind closed doors. That age old formula is something I saw coming miles away, but Nikki felt it was her obligation to the fans to challenge herself. So I let her endure it despite my pleas.

"Nikki, Drakz would've left you out to dry given the chance." I assert, leaning up against the wall. "Can't you see that?"

"I could've handled myself, but you never gave me a chance to."

"So what, you want me to sit by while you get severely hurt?" I ask, my quest for answers becoming more frantic. "This is different than anything you were used to."

"They're just people..."

"Yes." I interrupt, taking a deep breath. "People you're not ready to face alone."

"See, this is why it makes me sick to look at you right now."

"Why, because you know I'm right?"

"Had you not clipped my wings, I would've proven you wrong."

"About what exactly?"

"Thinking that I'm the weak link."

"Excuse me?" I ask, offended by her statement. "I've been your biggest advocate since the day you signed a contract. When Dave was wanting to replace you, when Penny pleaded with me to get you to reconsider coming back, I was in your corner saying you could do it."

"But I didn't ask for you to be at ringside."

"Maybe not, but I still have beef with Jack Sabbath, and Lucas Crowe is a guy looking to maim someone." I say, most of it seeming to fall on deaf ears. "I was only out there in case either of them got any bright ideas."

"That's awfully noble of you." She snaps. "What about when Trace dropped me on my head in Tokyo?"

"That's a low blow and you know it." I huff, running my fingers through my hair. "I was nowhere near a monitor."

"That's because you don't care." She hisses. "You can't be bothered by anything that doesn't get you closer to the title."

"You serious right now?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Then why would I make back and forth trips to Arizona to keep Dave from spending the next twenty behind bars and still manage to repair Penny's relationship with the McGurks?"

"Who really got the best out of that deal?"

Well, that was aimed directly between my eyes. And on the surface, I made out like a bandit because of Dave's legal battle. Even though fights were won in the courtroom and in the ring, I feel like we've lost much more than just leather and gold. During SOS's ascension there was a certain... innocence about us that seems to have dissipated along with our unity. Yeah, Dave's arrest proved that we are indeed human; a fact all too real in this profession where we're expected to provide inspiration with the roles we adapt. But can you really gain fortitude from a set of tragic heroes? That's debatable, if only because the narrative typically isn't very flattering. We've become targets more than any other time in our lives, personal details analyzed by every person under the sun. While we've managed to avoid unnecessary scrutiny with our reputations still intact, a pendulum eventually swings back and Nikki wasn't ready for it.

"A lot changed when you went down, and I'm not the only one who realizes it."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"Then why are you fighting me about this?"

"I just thought things would be different..."

"Please make me understand, because you're keeping the truth from me and that's not fair."

"You want to talk fair?" She asks, obviously in a rhetorical manner. Nikki finally turns to face me and I can feel a chill up my spine. "I was the one that said you should come out of retirement, building you up after every loss when the media said you were done. But when I needed you to be there when my life was at risk, it was business as usual."

"I..."

"Just stop, ok." Nikki interrupts. "It was so easy for you to slip back into wrestling without thinking about what it would do to the kids. No, you left that for me to consider."

"You forced me to get back into this life."

"You didn't really resist."

"You also wouldn't let up!" I snap and Nikki takes a step back in shock. "You kept asking me if I was ok, then challenged my answer when I gave it. I've had to swallow many bitter pills and accept it as life's course. Wrestling was one of those things I was finally moving on from, being ok with the fact that I nearly crippled myself so I could be remembered as a 'helluva hand'."

I pause and study Nikki's movements. I don't think she expected me to redirect her accusations back in such a, for lack of a better term, blunt fashion. Her hands are trembling, and I worry she may lash out.

"You have to understand when I set my mind on something, it's all the way." I continue, watching as she paces. "What'd you think I was going to do when I made the decision, go on a nostalgia tour? I came back because I had a goal worth striving for."

"Oh here comes the vintage Josh Dean greater good speech."

"You were the one that said I need to prove something to myself." I assert, trying to refrain from gritting my teeth. "Do you remember that, or was reminding me just a sales pitch to get the competitive fire out of my system?"

"That's it!" She screams, stopping me in my tracks. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what, wrestle?"

"No, be with you." She says with a smooth, rehearsed tone. "Not if you're going to continue to put our family through hell."

"Nikki, listen to yourself."

"I am, and I still feel the same way." She says, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't like how selfish you are in that environment."

I can feel my heart sink. Her cloistered resentment has finally been made public. I often times wonder if I'm the last person on Earth to find information out. Just like that night in Albuquerque, I find myself frozen with confusion, as a decision of this magnitude doesn't happen instantaneously. Even when I retired, I contemplated it for almost a year before I made the announcement. But like me, Nikki had some help in reaching these conclusions.

Drakz

Trace

It's not been said, but I have an inkling as to who their real target was. It's a play that's as old as wrestling itself, but still as effective as the first time someone tried it. It's not impossible to imagine them working together either, because I represent the monkey wrench in their plans of having one more rendezvous at SuperBrawl.

Nikki quietly finishes packing her belongings and walks out with very little mess. I'm powerless, just like the night she shoved me in front of millions. Her heels are dug in and any attempt to reason will be met with a contemptuous vitriol leading to a rash decision neither of us want. So I let her go, which is the only choice I have left.

****
6/25/2014

Dear Drakz,

Enclosed is a cassette tape. I was kind enough to put it on a voice recorder for your convenience, you being busy man you are. So I've had a couple days to think about our match at Dream Catcher, and here's what I came up with while it's still fresh in my mind. I hope you do listen to it, because I'd rather tell you this to your face.

Sincerely,

Josh Dean

"In an alternate universe, this should've been a dream match that would make our fans proud to bear witness. A match maker's golden opportunity to pit two stars from different eras against each other, if for no other reason than to be a part of something they never though feasible. Nevermind that abomination of a match that followed ours with those kids who can't lace our boots, because anyone worth their salt knew what was the real main event. We sold that show based on name value alone, and I don't believe either of us have any delusions to the contrary. It could be the nostalgic effect of veterans who just missed each other years ago finally being in the right place at the right time, but I can't say that for sure. What I know is that Sleater missed capitalizing on a ready made platform. See, for as long as both of us have traversed this career path, this was supposed to be THE match that stood out among countless classics furnishing the vault. I know I said we shouldn't pretend about the bout's significance, but come on, no one thought it would ever happen and that's kind of a big deal when you really think about it. The mix was there to create something special you and I can reminisce about years from now with the kind of gratification I know I only get from a job done right.

Unfortunately, I have the sour taste of disappointment in my mouth right now. Not because of the result, hell everyone winds up on their back eventually. No, I'm disappointed because I feel we both didn't give our best in there. Here was a chance to show why we deserved the premiere time slot, why we earned the praise we've garnered over the years, and we came up flat. It just doesn't seem right, and that's the part that sucks more c*ck than Donnie when he's going through withdrawals. I'll certainly take my share of the blame, because I'm a man trying to get back into a wrestler's state of mind after being disconnected for so long.

However some of that finger pointing needs to go in your direction, buddy. You, the legend who needs no introduction, have to assume some responsibility by not living up to your reputation as the consummate ring general and master psychologist. And I get the conservative approach, believe me I do. You went out there with the intention of doing just enough to keep your winning streak alive, rather than make the kind of statement a decisive victory wields. With all due respect Drakz, I need better than that from you. You're supposed to be the standard bearer, the last shining star from a dying and forgotten era. Right now the bar is set pretty damn low, which is saying something considering Dex got gifted the World Title last show. But for future reference, I want Genghis Khan Jr. in full destroyer mode because when that form emerges, you WILL get me at my best. You WILL get that dogfight you've been craving, and we WILL raise the level of excellence for every wrestler past, present, and future. I look around at WFWF's locker room and I'm the only one who hasn't been mentally castrated before facing you, which will never change despite your accolades. Ironically, you need an opponent like me more than someone like Schneider or Demon, because I have a truly unique quality you haven't seen in quite some time.

No ulterior motive.

Sounds strange, doesn't it? It might even be a bit confusing, so I guess I need to explain. But before I do, it's only appropriate that you gain some background knowledge about me.

I am a fighter at heart, and I've carried that nature with me through every endeavour. If I didn't, I wouldn't have started a successful business from the ground floor with no experience. I wouldn't have carved out an impressive resume for myself as a competitor which includes, but isn't limited to, a successful tenure in WFWF. And there's honestly no way I would've made it out of College Park had I taken any other mentality than this one. The men looking down the pipe at you fight for something they feel entitled to. I fight because it's what I know, and as a result I've become really f*cking good at it. All I've ever needed was the stage to prove it on just like you, if what you say can be believed. Because I don't know you, you'll get the benefit of the doubt for now. But just like man whose prize you currently have your eyes fixed on, I'll be watching you. I know this isn't the last time we'll be in the ring together, whether we're partners fighting for a common cause or adversaries. To be completely honest with you, I'd put money on the later.

For the time being I bid you adieu, Isaac. Congratulations on this first encounter, but do me a favor and bring the full artillery next go 'round. You're gonna need it."

Josh Dean Presents
The Butterfly Effect

Part 1: What is Regret?
Championship Connections
Atlanta, Georgia
11/21/15

"So Nikki said it'd be best if we seperated for a little while." I sigh as I collapse into the seat. "I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean."

"Are you surprised by that?"

"Is it out of line to say no?"

"Not at all, if anything you can relate to her." Dr. Remke replies as he gets comfortable in his chair. "Nikki is a lot like you in how you both view relationships."

He pauses, fumbling through his bag to retrieve his cigarettes while I unroll my bag of weed.

"Think about how I came on board at the firm." He says, laying them on the table. "You put me through the wringer to prove I was trustworthy. With Nikki's fragile state, she sees this seperation as a test."

Trying to find the words to say, I finally mumble, "I tried."

"I know that, and I also know your hands were tied..."

"But I failed when it mattered in her eyes." I say, placing a hand on my cheek. "I just hope I can repair our marriage."

"You did what any responsible adult would've done by realizing a dangerous situation." He says before pulling a cigarette out. "I'm confident Nikki will come around after she gets this custody hearing off her mind. You can't blame her for not knowing how to feel."

"What was I supposed to do though?" I ask, clearing the tobacco from my Philly. "I have my own career to manage too. She pushed me away when I tried to advise her."

"Very true on both parts, especially yours. The turnaround you've made since seeking my services has been remarkable." He announces, a smile crossing his face. "You two would honestly make a great case study on the effect the workplace has in a married athlete's performance."

"Don't pat yourself on the back too quickly, because I haven't achieved anything just yet."

"You're the number one contender though."

"But I'm not champion yet, and I can't consider this good fortune a success because there are too many factors hanging over it."

"Such as."

"The circumstances in which I got my title shot." I begin, rubbing my hands across my face. "The title shot got put into place because Drakz didn't see Yukio Blaze as worthy of such a big payday. Then I think about how I beat Yukio. What I had to do, and how badly I struggled internally to finish it."

"And you're worried about the perception?" He asks, retrieving a cigarette. "The fact is you had a platform to earn your chance, but that was provided you went out and performed. You wouldn't be here if there wasn't something deeper going on."

It's times like this I admire the good doctor's honesty. I know he threw that statement out primarily as a vehichle to work his magic and discern occupational hazards from personal turmoil. While he's become a friend and my most impartial confidant, we're still discovering the line between talking as colleagues and my seeking his educated opinion. It's been six months since our last 'session', and his contributions have been immeasurable in helping me regain my form. However, I've been holding many things in since that meeting and it's been tearing me apart. I'm a jittery wreck and he's the only one who can help me understand why, because explaining this intimate matter to anyone else might have consequences I'm not ready to face even if I had a choice.

"I'm not sleeping, I'm barely eating." I say with a sigh. "God, I'm such a mess."

"It could be the moment talking." Doc says in a calm manner. "I think you knew every win would raise the stakes.

"I know a thing or two about pressure Tim, but this feels...different."

"How?"

"First off, I feel like I'm stuck in a recurring dream." I say, breaking up a nugget of hydro. "Have been for a long time."

"And I take it that you're coping with marijuana?"

"I wouldn't call it coping, more like trying to repress it." I quip. "Besides, it's better than killing my liver with alcohol."

"Considering the circumstances, I'd say that's a good choice." Dr. Remke says, lighting a cigarette. "You know I can prescribe you something to help you sleep."

"Hell no!" I blurt out, nearly spilling the hydro. "I've went my whole career without needing pills, and I'm not about to start now."

"So you're just going to keep self medicating?"

"You got any other suggestions?"

"Well, why don't you tell me what the dream's about?"

I lower my head before saying, "Raven...everything."

"Ok start with Raven, there's a lot of history between you two- go on."

"The way our last conversation went got me thinking about a lot of things."

"Ok, from the beginning."

Thank God for doctor patient confidentiality because if what I tell him were to get out, I'd surely be looking at the kind of painstaking divorce many of my athletes endure. While Nikki knows that I recently picked the blunt back up, I've left the details at that. With her current dilemma, I'd prefer there be some ignorance than describe a relationship that would likely be misinterpreted. Things have been tumultuous on the home front to say the least and Raven throwing herself at me every chance she gets doesn't help. Even though I'm innocent of any wrongdoing, there are assumptions that could be made. I often ask myself if I'm doing this on purpose to put my entire life under examination. Among a myriad of questions posed, the obvious one is why the need for such penance?

"You haven't said anything for the past five minutes."

"You'll have to excuse me for taking a minute to process what you just said."

"What, that I always loved you and still do?"

"You know, a little forewarning would've been nice."

"I'm surprised you weren't able to pick up on the signals I gave you."

"I suppose I've become oblivious to it since I've been married."

"Josh, look at me." Raven says, lifting her breasts and letting them fall. "I'm sitting here on a bed beside you buck naked, and you mean to tell me you don't notice."

"I'm not blind, but I don't always pay attention to every single hint."

"Yeah, right."

"It's true." I assert, running my fingers through my hair. "That radar got turned off when I met Nikki."

"I'm not exactly subtle about it." She says, putting her hand on mine. "Wearing the lingerie you bought me, leaning in chest first to get your attention, dropping a lighter in my cleavage. I don't see what's so difficult to understand."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

"What?"

"I knew what you were doing, and I still ignored it." I say, gently pulling my hand away from her. "I was trying to do it tactfully, hoping you'd get the hint."

"Why come around then?" She asks, moving her hands back to her lap. "There's hundreds of dealers in this city that you can get product from."

"Loyalty."

Raven tilts her head to the side and it's evident that she doesn't believe me. I guess it's due to the way business transactions always end up in this conversation. I've been trying to avoid it honestly, because dwelling on our past romance would only be a distraction during this crucial time in my career. I'd be lying if I said that the urge to take her isn't present, hey I am human after all. If she's been following me like she claims however, then Raven should be cognizant enough to know drumming up these old flames can't be allowed. Her eyes are like a trance though, reminding me of times when she was the only joy I had in my life.

Have I really put that part of my past as far back as I'd like to think?

"That must be a new concept, considering you've always done what's best for you."

"Like I told you back in December, I'm taking a different route."

"It's hard to believe that when you're still looking at me the way you used to."

"No I don't."

"Why don't you look me in the eyes then?"

"I think you already answered your own question."

Turning away from me, she asks, "How do you think I feel, knowing I want something I can't have?"

"You don't think I understand that?" I respond defensively, insulted by her low opinion of me. I turn to face her. "Hi, I live that everyday."

"You're living your dream though, all while forgetting the people who helped you stay sane." She declares, flopping back onto the bed exasperated. "Mostly me."

"You do realize my job makes having a social life futile."

"Stop using that as an excuse Josh!" She shouts, putting her hand on her head. "After all this time you still don't know why I fell into Curtis's arms, mostly because you don't care enough to ask."

"That's a pretty bold statement without having facts." I declare, turning to fully face her. "But since we're tossing softballs, regale me with a reason."

"It was after you shot Curtis."

"For the record, you kind of f*cked with my aim." I interrupt with a smirk forming. "I'm sorry, go ahead."

"I got really depressed about it, especially when you disappeared for a couple months." She begins, her hands gliding to her stomach. "And I figured you weren't coming back, so I was prepared to move on as a single mother."

"Wait, a single...?"

"I was pregnant with your baby, Josh." She answers in a matter of fact tone as my eyes widen. "I had just found out."

"Hold on, how do you know it was mine?"

"You talked about wanting a real family, and I wanted to give that to you." She says, crossing her legs. "Just don't ask me to go into specifics ok, a woman just knows."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would've left anyway, so what was the point?"

"You don't keep something that important hidden, Raven." I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I would've listened."

"Bullsh*t!" She hisses. "Face it, you're the definition of a rolling stone because wrestling always took precedence."

"My priorities have changed..."

"Have they?" She interrupts, looking me in the eyes. "Unless it's convenient, you never talk about your family around me."

"For good reason." I declare, trying unsuccessfully to keep my hand from shaking. "I don't want to rub it in."

"You being here is hard enough." She says, and I can see tears forming out the corner of her eye. "But I let you back in like a fool."

"It's not foolish." I say, looking her in the eyes. "We were always friends before anything else."

"No, you were always friends." She says, wiping the tear from her eyes. "I always wanted more."

You know that moment when everything clicks, an a-ha type of epiphany? This was the kind of eye opening revelation that really hurts, because it hits you like a sucker punch. Here Raven was, sobbing over such a painful recollection and instead of consoling her, I was numb to it as I chose to take residence behind empty wit while I made sense of something that would've changed not only my life but also my heart. It must've taken all the courage Raven had pent up to rip herself open like that, consequently bringing me down off this pedestal I've been put on by friends and associates.

Dr. Remke snipes his cigarette out in the ashtray, exhaling smoke from both his mouth and nose. I place my hand on the back of my neck, trying to massage this increasing tension out while he watches me squirm uncomfortably in my seat.

"Do you feel guilty?" He asks, pulling his notebook out of his briefcase. "That's what I'm observing when you speak."

"Don't you think I'd tell you if I knew the answer?"

"Can't say for certain." He begins, lighting another cigarette. "When people experience a great deal of success, they normally have little problem using the past as a sort of testimony for overcoming adversity. But I feel like you're holding onto this feeling to keep yourself motivated."

I finish rolling the blunt, shaking my head before asking, "If you could have one moment in your life to do over, would you do it?"

"That's very good question with a loaded proposition attached." He asserts, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Because that other decision would mean altering the course your life took. Besides, something like that is impossible because time travel has only been fantasized about."

"I know, but it still don't change being curious."
*****

12/8/2015
Somewhere around Kingman, Arizona

"I'm glad you finally went and talked to the old man." I say, reclining comfortably in the back seat before asking, "You feel any better now?"

"It's like I can finally breathe again."

"If I've learned anything from all my years of treating athletes, distractions are the number one performance killer." Dr. Remke begins as he lights up a cigarette. "While you may think about many things in the ring, it's essential to limit those thoughts to the match."

"It's been hard for us, but it always helps to have support."

"Very true, which is why athletes put so much faith in their coaches and teammates to keep them on task, because while they are invested they still have an outside view."

He pauses, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I did a case study on performance after a personal trauma for my dissertation." He exhales before continuing, "And it was truly fascinating how much we rely on others."

"Not everyone has a system though, doc." Penny interjects, breaking up the hydro on her notebook. "Some people are loners."

"Right, and that's what I set out to prove." He says, flicking an ash out the window. "I wanted to see if it really mattered."

"Does it?"

"Yes, it does." He takes a drag from his cigarette before continuing, "Because of how important it is to divulge into our emotions. One of the first things Josh and I discussed upon meeting each other was being in control."

"Yeah, we talk about that a lot too."

"Without a trusted outlet those emotions hinder an athlete's judgement, and I don't need to tell you happens after that."

"You can always compartmentalize your thoughts." I say, sitting up. "I've been doing it for years."

"How's that been working for you?"

I've been aloof, isolating myself from all humanity since Nikki walked out. I've been trying to spend that time preparing for Drakz with limited success, mostly because I'm still trying to see the logic behind my way of thinking. A match this magnitude and it's the last thing on my mind and I feel like I'm doing a disservice to dear Isaac splitting my attention, though I'm certain I'm not the only one who's been preoccupied. These past six months have resembled a high stakes poker game, and I'm trying to beat the house. Sure I stood over him to close Curtain Call, but I'm confident he hasn't played his ace yet. I scan the others in my vehicle and it's a far cry from the assembly I used to travel with now that Dave and Nikki are gone. Cam has a whole host of commitments taking up his time outside the ring, so we only had a brief moment to celebate when I raised his hand after the match with Ahriman. Victory is difficult to embrace despite it becoming habitual because of the infinite directions we're heading in.

Penny motions for the good doctor to turn left and my view becomes filled with picturesque winding roads and breathtaking landmarks. My GPS is suggesting to turn around so I ask, "Where we going?"

Penny calmly rolls a Philly blunt while saying, "Detour."

"The hell we are!" I exclaim, trying unlock my seatbelt. "That'll put us behind."

"So?"

"So you may not care when you show up, but I do."

"And what are going to do to pass the time, gamble?" She asks, sparking up the blunt. "No, I know what you're going to do."

"What's that, pretell?"

"You'll sit in the hotel room getting high, dwelling over all this stuff with Nikki and obsessing about whatever skeletons are still hanging around."

I sit back in my seat, releasing a big sigh before sarcastically asking, "Is it really that obvious?"

"Yes!" They both exclaim, not even looking at each other for a cue.

There's a shared glance as Penny continues, "Look Josh, you got me to get out of my own way and talk to Wayne. So now I'm doing the same thing for you."

"But Wayne and I are on good terms..."

"Oh shut up!" She says before taking a deep pull from the blunt. "You know damn well what I'm talking about."

"Maybe, but there are some things that are harder to let go of." I say, looking out at the rolling sand beyond my window. "That's if I were conflicted."

"Who are you trying to fool, Josh?"

"No one..."

"Then why have you been going to a shrink for the past year?" Penny interrupts, playfully slapping Dr. Remke's arm. "No offense."

"None taken." He replies.

"It's being able to understand why I won't let go." I say in a near whisper. "I want to."

"Here's what I know, and the doc can vouch for me when I say that you're going to f*ck this chance up if you don't get your head out of your ass."

"And taking us down the Mother Road is supposed to help me?"

"No," Penny asserts, handing me a mason jar full of a dark green liquid. "But this will."

I open the lid to the mysterious jar. The rancid smell overtakes me before I shout, "What is this sh*t?"

"It's an herbal energy drink." She says with a smirk. "Abuelita knows an Indian physician who recommended it."

"You mean a witch doctor?"

"No, I mean a licensed professional who just happens to be of Native American descent."

"You look exhausted Josh," Dr. Remke pleads. "And we're concerned because we care."

The good doctor pauses, before lighting up another smoke and taking a thought provoking drag.

"You know, I had a nice long reflection about what we talked about the other day."

"And?"

"And I feel the root of your problem is pretty common." He says, flicking ashes out the driver side window. "The constant 'what ifs' and hypothetical scenarios are based around a desire to have the perfect story of tragedy and triumph."

"All I said was that I'm curious to see if my career would've ended up any better."

"Did you expect to be in this position when you came back?" Penny shot out, hitting the blunt. "Be honest."

No, but that's not exactly what you want to tell your friends when they're already worried. And that's half of the problem. Wrestlers always have an air of confidence to them heading into battle, and right now mine should be at an all time high. However, there comes a point where you must be honest with yourself about where your station is in life, and it took Cam being reflective during his farewell tour to get me to realize that I too am living on borrowed time and have squandered my share of opportunities. I guess that's why I've been on edge recently, because the risk involved in this match is higher than a random television match with the Joey Raids of the world. While a loss to him would've been terrible, I could attribute to him raising his game to beat me. But a loss in a World Title match is when hard questions start harvesting, 'am I good enough' being the most prevalent. While I've never doubted my abilities, I often question whether I truly sacrificed enough to climb the summit or whether I let my old garbage stand in my way.

"Don't you think you're in the wrong sport if you don't expect to make it this far?"

"Maybe, but is it worth living your life a hundred miles an hour if you're not going to enjoy it?" Penny retorts. "That's why we took this route, because you need to slow down for a minute."

"Josh, you've been getting by on your natural talent for a while now," Dr. Remke adds. "And there's no easy way to tell a person that their mental aspect needs the chance to catch up."

"So how am I supposed to do that?"

"Taking this time to meditate is a start." He replies, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window. "Penny's drink will facilitate by placing your mind in a relaxed state."

"I could always hit the blunt and pass out?"

"With your tolerance, you don't have enough available." He advises. "No, you need to be at peace so that you can remain in control. Think of what's about to happen as you getting in a time machine."

"Ok, so let's say I do this," I question, opening the jar. "Will there be any adverse effects?"

"C'mon dude, would either of us put you in a spot that would hurt you?"

"I hope I've learned to pick better friends as I've gotten older."

"See?" He asks, not waiting for a response before continuing. "And as a medical professional, I wouldn't endorse this if it wasn't safe."

I let out a prolonged sigh before relenting, "Ok."

"Good, but I should warn you that you're going to learn things about yourself that you might not like." The good doctor says as I take a drink of the mixture. "You'll be forced to confront very uncomfortable situations. Think you can handle that?"

"I have to."

"Ok... so this should take its effect rather shortly, given your state." Penny says, tossing me a pillow. "You better get comfortable."

Whatever this is, it's very potent because the effect is almost immediate. I fix my eyes on the passing landmarks just outside the window. The colors blend and I can feel my eyes starting to get heavy as everything around me starts to spin like a rapidly growing vortex, gradually swallowing everything in sight. I guess this is the real rabbit hole, because I feel a sense of weightlessness and a lack of any control toward this descent as everything starts to dim into a pitch black hue. Suddenly, this crazy cyclone comes to a screeching halt and I find myself staring down a hallway of mirrors.

"What is this place?"

"This is your life." A thunderous voice calls out, causing me to snap my head around in different directions. "Over here, a**hole!"

"Where?"

"Right in front of you."

My focus is shifted to the echo of his voice, and there he is in front of me. An oversized hood covers his head as he takes a step forward and raises his hands. A spotlight dawns on him, glistening as he pulls off the hood. Short hair, clean shaven with a sly grin that I have made my own. I know that I'm in an altered dream because being face to face with him just isn't possible, except it is.

"You're..."

"Yeah, I'm you."

Mind blown.

****

Part 2: Peyote Intervention

"Wait, you're me?"

"Yeah, and I can't believe you've covered my beautiful face with this hideous hedge you call a beard."

"I like it, and Nikki likes it..."

"Well, Nikki's not here with you right now, is she?"

"Watch yourself, that's still my wife."

"And where is she when you really need her?" He asks, getting in my face. "Too busy playing the victim to get over herself."

"You just had to make a point of that."

"Hey, I'm just saying what you've been thinking." He says with a smirking as he rubs his chin. "Nothing but baggage if you ask me."

"Good thing I didn't."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want my opinion."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah it is." He asserts with a sharp glare. "Let's take a walk, we don't have much time."

"F*ck you, not until I get an answer as to what this is."

"God, that's the one thing I hate about you. Always wanting to ask questions when another person makes the rules instead of playing by your own."

"I just want to do what's best for the company."

"We've always been best for the company."

"Ok, don't freak out, I'm just trying to soak up the fact that I'm in some drug induced purgatory."

"Clearly you've never read Two Roads by Robert Frost."

"Nope," I say, watching him as he looks around the endless hallway with a sense of pride. "I get the reference, and I'm guessing this is the situation he wrote about."

"Kinda, what we have here is the two directions you could've taken our career and our life." He says, beckoning me to follow. "This side to our left is the life you currently live and the right is the life I have."

"So you're..."

"Dude, don't you f*cking listen?" He asks, insulted by my need for clarity. "I'm you, in this present time and place, had you made different choices."

"And this is..."

"Ok, you're a smart guy." He says, giving me a forceful pat on the back. "Act like it and come on!"

He leads me down the long hall of mirrors which showcase a variety of instances in my life where I was forced to make a hard decision. Those times that haunt me as I often look back on them with regret. There's always a half full approach that can be taken in everyone's personal history, though many including myself take the half empty approach because it's easier to blame your surrounding than yourself. Accountability is a concept many don't do enough of because that would imply stripping away their visage to reality. Consequently, many can not handle their pipe dreams being shattered.

As he continues to lead me down the hall of lost memories, I wonder if I should include myself in that department. Finally I inquire, "Is there a specific time you're wanting me to see?"

"Well, right here is a good place to start." He says, motioning me to the mirror with two title belts sitting on a table before asking, "Remember this?"

"I'd like to forget."

"Too bad, because it ain't going anywhere!" He firmly retorts. "Just the start to a series of bad choices you made over an extended period."

"So let me guess, you want me to see how you would've handled it."

"You still don't get why you're here, or why I'm guiding you through this, do you?"

"Not exactly."

"You have openly called that contract negotiation a colossal mistake and waste of your best years." He says, stepping into the mirror. "You can't change it. But wouldn't you like to tell Dolly what a total b*tch she is?"

I never thought in my wildest dreams, this being among them, that I'd receive full liberty to unload on my old boss. I never got to before she left the other company, and it eats at me. She made me a substantial offer I ultimately accepted, and it took me several years to realize she didn't deserve to have me on the payroll with her special brand of incompetence. Not to say the decision was easy though, because it wasn't. Ironically, the experience made me a better man due to a hard lesson in reading fine print. It's one of many that a person who works as an independent contractor needs to commit to their subconscious, if for other reason than sound judgement.

From the other side of the mirror, he motions me to join him with an omnipotent smile. He is me, after all. I remember when the good doctor spoke about altering our past and what discoveries we tend to make. While I realize that I would gain an introspective look I may not have the greatest pride in, it's still finishing school for my own pursuit of self actualization.

"You coming?"

"..."

"Better make a decision, the phone's ringing."

"Sure," I announce, placing my hand through the reflection as it sucks me into that moment. "This ought be fun."

"Yes, Dolly Madison please." He replies when prompted. "This is Josh Dean."

"Ok what the hell are you doing?"

"Negotiating a contract," He responds, handing me the phone. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my life back." I say as I grab the phone. "Hello Dolly, yeah it's Josh."

"Oh Josh, hi how are you?" Dolly responds with condescending tone that grates every last one of my nerves even to this day. "So did you look at our latest offer?"

"I did, and I just had a few questions about some of the terms."

"Really?" She asks. "I think it's a more than generous offer."

"I agree, the money is great, but..."

"But what?" She says as I begin to pace, my breath becoming more laboured. "It's a pretty standard deal."

"Yeah, I know," I say as he hands me my old contract. As he circles a section, he winks at me. "But I have my rookie deal in front of me and it looks eerily similar to this one."

"There are some changes to the deal, the base salary is just the same." She says, and I can hear the tapping of her nails. "Were you not happy with 2.5 million?"

"It's great, I really mean that." I say, seeing the hook she set when we first had these negotiations. "But I'm not seeing anything here about insurance."

"Honey, we'll take care of the insurance once we process the paperwork."

"Listen Dolly, I have to get surgery on my shoulder here in a couple months. I can't keep taking cortisone injections." I begin, listening to her breathing pick up. "I need to know if you can fit the bill."

"Josh, you know Barlow and I have always taken care of you." She says subtlety. "I can't fathom a time when we wouldn't uphold our end of the agreement."

"You've done well Dolly, but you'll have to excuse me for wanting it in writing."

A couple months prior to this moment, I dislocated my shoulder in a match against Johnny Malice during the New Breed Tournament. At that time, I was running hot and heavy as I continued to climb the ranks. Wayne saw me getting it popped back into socket in the trainer's room, and that night we had our first real conversation. About the business, about life in general. That night I showed him the side of a kid that was more than a brash newcomer turning the House Show circuit on its head, but a young man who had a plan. He was the one that kept insisting that I get an MRI, but I refused because of a simple truth. You work, you get paid. That was always the lesson Robbie gave me when I was cutting my teeth. I suppose when a belief and practice is engrained deep within, it's difficult to say no. Dolly and Barlow were pretty consistent ensuring I stayed in peak shape until his untimely passing. I don't think Dolly ever recovered from it and should've sold the company straight away, but she held onto her late husband's memory too long and the books showed it. While she was good at performing for the audience, she never quite got the grasp of how the backstage side operated.

"Look, why don't you take some time to draw up a new contract, and we revisit this in say... six months when my shoulder's healed."

"Josh it's not that simple, you're one of my champions."

"And I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs," I quip. "I haven't had a meaningful match since Jason and I had that ladder match. Besides, it's better to lose me for six months than permanently, right?"

"..."

"Dolly?"

"Huh?" She says, obviously snapping back into being engaged in our conversation. "Sorry, I just got an email from creative?"

"Whoa, hold up. I thought you still ran creative?"

"No, I had to give it up so I could focus on the financials." She replies, before taking a deep sigh. "I promoted Greg to that position."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, but the good news is that big plans are coming your way should you resign."

"You have my attention."

"They want to put the title on you..."

"Bout damn time..."

"But there's a catch," She quickly interrupts. "You have to turn."

"Do I look like I could be the bad guy to you?"

"You never know until you try."

In our world of suspending reality, I've been the villain and I hated it. The pretense of being pissed off constantly is one I never felt comfortable with. However, dollar signs have a way of making a persuasive argument. In these reflective times, I wish Wayne would've been clearer with his advising. It would've given my the type of guidance I get from hindsight. Dolly can sense something is a miss though as in my young days I had many difficulties with questioning the facets of my contracts, unquestionably a contributing factor to my worn down state going in.

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"Not going to do it."

"Josh, this is the company putting a great deal of stock into you."

"I know, but plans change," I retort before asking, "Isn't that what you're always selling me?"

"That's to help you keep your morale up."

"I don't need a f*cking morale boost, I need to know that I haven't wasted the last three years of my life for a company that won't give me anything in return."

"What do you want?"

"I'm the most loyal and talented guy you have on this roster, and I deserve to reach my potential on my terms."

"Well, I'll have to look into reassessing your contract before offering you a new one."

"You do that then."

"I don't understand what's caused this transformation, but it's not very becoming." She warns. "You should really be careful before you burn all your bridges."

"I'll remember that," I say, looking at the shine of both championship belts. "Until then, there's not much else to talk about."

"I thought you were going to cut loose on her." He says as I hang the phone up. "That's what I would've done."

"That's where we differ." I retort, patting him on the shoulder. "I prefer to handle things tactfully."

"Well, just remember that you don't always get to the top by being a nice guy."

****
This is normally the part where I encompass all of my emotions into one full fledged verbal assault aimed directly between your eyes. Should be quite the comfortable position, but I'm going to leave that alone because we have other business requiring our attention. I've had you in my crosshairs for a while, but the shots never seemed appropriate, but understand that I am patient. I had no doubt we'd be here in this place slugging it out for the grand prize, although it took me a little longer than I anticipated. I was preoccupied with tying up loose ends. So you'll have to excuse me for understanding there are other things in life than wrestling, but I shouldn't expect a petulant child to comprehend reality because it's too scary. That's why Michael kicked you to the curb like a groupie, because you could never understand the balancing act a man must often endure. I'm getting ahead of myself in this public soliloquy, so why don't I back up and just say I'm glad you made it Isaac. I'm ecstatic to see that aside from the everyday knicks of this profession, you're still physically in tact.

Phase One: Mission accomplished.

You know life and human nature are strange things, don't ya think? You're an observer of men and a fine one at that, but you're also a creature of habit and no amount of digs can fix genetic programming. I'll be the first to admit I'm far from perfect, the most pertinent of my flaws is that I've been infamous for spreading myself too thin. And because of that it appears I take my closest allies for granted, but that self realization is the reason I'm able to recognize you've done the exact same thing I'm guilty of. See it's easy to cast stones when you've pledged no allegiance, but what about when someone gives it back likewise? When your opponent puts a real mirror in front of your face and makes you stand trial for your own flaws. I remedied that dire need Isaac and I don't expect a thank you in return, not that I'd get one but that's beside the point. It should feel nice having your focus on preparation and not having to watch your back for once. That much I promised you, but your sore lack of social ettique pretty much shot that notion all to hell.

The ironic thing is that I had this idea of British folks. Prim and proper, well spoken, tea swilling sportsmen. The type of guy that while a boring, snobbish, aristocratic, and kind of an a**hole, is still someone who likes a good pint every now and then. If I weren't so rooted in my southern traditions, I could easily spend a substantial amount of time around the guy.

Until you smacked me in the back of the head with a steel chair, Isaac. Then it proved to me without any measurable doubt that you are the one with an identity crisis. Look no further than when Christa Adina introduces you, from Chicago, Illinois by way of Leeds, United Kingdom. Now I'm all for dual citizenship, but which one is it Isaac? Watch you come up with snarky rebuttal about being a world traveler, poppa was a rolling stone, wherever he laid his hat was his home. But I digress, because my tangent might cause me to break out in song. I remember you telling me that after our first match, wondering the whole time if you could appreciate the hypocrisy? Well I don't forget things like that, so my Christmas gift to you is not onlykeeping you safe until Vegas but also providing a solution to your problem.

Unfortunately, that means you will no longer be the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion after Show Time.

I will. I will beat you Isaac, and I will beat you convincingly, verifying once and for all that not only do I deserve to be on the list of the greatest WFWF stars of all time but that I have earned the right to be at the head of the f*cking list!

I'm getting a little worked up here, but we finally reached the breaking point though, didn't we Isaac? A time for one of us to put up or shut up. These past eighteen months you and I have been taking little jabs each other, just to see which one will break and strike first. I didn't want it to be this way. All I wanted was you at your best, and I don't see what's so damn hard to understand about that. Yet you've expended countless resources to make me out as a bad guy. I guess I should take that as a compliment, even though I don't quite understand it. But, never fear I have a theory.

It's because I've done something no one else has been able to do to you. I made you put your ego in check, coming to you personally, man to man, and stating what I expected. What I needed from you in return for my kindness. That wasn't designed as a ploy to get you off your game, oh no. I don't think you're stupid enough to assume as much, but I do think your ego has you thinking that you're unstoppable. And I suppose that's where we differ, because I believe you have to take care of immediate threats before you move on. I've taken every match one at a time so that I don't end up knocked out with someone standing over me, hoisting my gold.

Dude, I'm starting to get concerned with this self destructive pattern. Don't believe me, let's take a second to review the past year shall we?

As if you thought it was an option.

In front of those 84,000 screaming countrymen, it took Phillip Schneider running possibly the most asinine interference in wrestling history and a steel chair to put down Trace Demon, a man you have no problem taking shots at when it fits the occasion, just because you hold a one run lead.

Asterisk.

End Game, you beat Phillip Schneider. Congratulations. But it was kind of a fishy circumstance, no? You had to manipulate the stipulation, convoluting an instant classic into a literal clusterf*ck because you got lucky at SuperBrawl. Sit with that for a while... but wait, there's more. Schneider was desperate trying to find a reason to wrestle because he checked out long before that match and we both know it. So you technically beat the King of Gore in his wheelhouse, but only after thirty minutes of you running away to tire the guy's legs out. Swinging a baseball bat gets a little tougher when you've got lactic acid buildup. But you double as a molecular biologist, so I'm sure that is first day stuff for you.

Asterisk.

Then we come to the most nefarious case of your truancy, the Sakura. Didn't break the record here? I apologize for my fuzzy memory because I had this shot at the title to win. No disrespect meant to the International Championship but I've already done that, six months into my first tenure here as a 21 year old kid with no direction. Even then, I had the pin right there, but I had a Demon to beat the sh*t out of for dropping my wife on her head.

That's right you were there, but you may not remember that very clearly considering you were knocked out cold. But I don't remember you defending the title in Japan. All I remember is you going after the Tag Titles I vacated because someone told me I couldn't pick Dave's replacement.

Asterisk.

Wait, before we go any further, let's go into that last statement a little further. The question you and everyone coming and going is why did I interject myself into your reign as Tag Team Champion? For starters, because I never lost my Tag Team Title, so I was claiming my half. Secondly, simply because I can. If you didn't like it, you should've done something about it then. At least we would've been a little more honest about how this was all going to transpire. I would've known you weren't afraid. It's ok to be scared, Isaac, I am too. I'm scared of my legacy being defined by what I did eight years ago. You're scared that I will cement my legacy at your expense. That I'm the one that will end this run you've been on.

You have every reason to be scared because I AM the one.

I've always been the one.

And deep down in places you don't want to explore, you know I'm telling the truth. I see no passion when I look in your eyes, no fire. I see a complacent man who realizes he has too much on his plate and projects his insecurities onto someone else as a result. That's why you decided to play these games with me. To mask the fact that you didn't get the revenge on Kyzer you wanted. I think the whole thing's been done to death personally, but I know that pride makes it impossible to imagine a scenario in which you don't finish the job. That is until Ante Witner, the same one who has never beat me, pinned Michael clean despite all of his schenanigans. Ahriman picking up the scraps just gave you a person to blame, and my inclusion gave you someone to manufacture a grudge against.

It may be a game to you, but this is my life on the line! This is the last step to permanent immortality. By beating you, I become the sixteenth Triple Crown winner in company history and you will NOT deny me that. And I have gotten in this position by having possibly the single greatest calender year in this company's existence. It's been nearly 400 days since I last tasted a defeat of any kind, and while you were treating the championship as an accessory I was running through everyone on the roster from Joey Raid to Turgain Zmey. I have not been touched since the day Demon sprayed me in the face with sulfuric acid. And I will get my revenge on him, but I need the title to do it. To put a stamp on another Hall of Fame induction, I need the title. And I will get the World Heavyweight Title simply because you don't deserve it.

I will fulfill my destiny for Nikki, Dave, Cam, Penny, and the WFWF as a whole.

But I will also fulfill my destiny for me, so I can finally get a moment of peace.

You simply have the law of nature working against you.


****
Epilogue
Both Barrels

Sports Talk New York
8/21/2014

"Remember Battle at the Garden comes to you live on pay per view," Jack says as I drink the remaining water from my bottle. "Check your cable or satellite provider for more information on show times and listings. I'm Jack Michaels signing off!"

With studio music fading us out, Jack takes his headset off and tosses it to the side. I slide mine down on top of my shoulders before saying, "I guess that's my cue."

He nods before reaching under his desk to a mini fridge and asking "Wanna beer?"

"Uh...yeah," I say with a chuckle as I toss the headset aside. "Hope it's not skunked like last time."

"Hey, you drank it!"

"And I regretted it immediately." I say, flailing my arms around in front of my mouth while Jack laughs at my sour expression. "There's not enough mouthwash to gargle out that taste."

I pause, looking at my old friend before patting him on the shoulder. "Looks like they set you up pretty nice here."

"Better than that rat trap in Cartersville."

"Everyone has to pay their dues Jack."

"I know."

"Are they treating you right?

"Honestly, I'm just glad I've been able to handle starting at the bottom again after I got clean." He says, handing me a beer. "Thank you, by the way."

"Well I did kind of enable you there for a while, so I guess I owed you."

"You don't owe me anything." He interrupts. "One thing I learned from that time in treatment is that while you provided me the fix, I still chose to rely on the drugs."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"Actually, I kind of did." He asserts, taking a drink from his beer. "Think about when you went to FCW."

"I'd rather not." I shot out defensively as I rub my neck. "I still got a suit pending."

"Eh, let it go. Malone's not gonna come off that money."

"It's more than just money, Jack. It's principle." I say, taking a drink of my beer. "I lost quality of life because of his negligence."

"I agree he didn't handle it with the most care," Jack concedes, taking a drink of his beer before asking. "But why dwell on it?"

"I don't know, I guess because karma came back to get me."

He looks at puzzled, like he needs an explanation. When I first met Jack, I was in a bad way spiritually. I was selfish. First time I've admitted it, even to myself. Jack was just looking for some extra cash because interns laughed at his meager salary. I had just come into a major payoff and had the means to hire him as my assistant. I learned that you should always background check your employees, because Jack's cocaine habit became crystal clear when I was giving him advances on his paycheck. Jack was also the first person I told about my idea for Championship Connections, though I'm positive the details of that conversation are lost in thin air as we spent a great deal of time inebriated and balls deep in strippers. At that time in my life I was more concerned about my activities outside the ring than in it, which lead to that fateful dive that changed my life. Divine intervention is a crazy thing because it comes when you don't want it.

"One year sober, Josh."

"I know. I'm proud of you."

"Do you ever miss it?" He asks, turning to the control panel to mix the show. "Living fast like that?"

"We had some cool experiences, but no." I reply before taking a large swig. "I was a pretty miserable sh*t during that time. Checking you into rehab is probably the best thing I did for anyone."

"Why?"

"Because it made me think about why we were doing the things we were doing."

I pause.

"I really though we could do it-you know, change the game. Myself, Marcell, and Bubba." I continue, sitting my beer on the table beside me. "Then it all went south when I got hurt."

"Then you spiraled..."

"Yeah, taking everyone around me with me in the process."