The Heart of the Matter

Her fingers lightly traced the muscles of his left arm, sending little sparks that ran from his skin all the way to his heart. He used his other arm to pull her closer, drawing a purr of satisfaction. She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing him to stroke her blonde hair from the side of her face.

Nate didn’t know why she came back, or how they ended up here again. But he knew one thing for certain.

“I wish this didn’t have to end.”

“It doesn’t,” she replied, and tightened her embrace.

wait what

“We can just stay like this forever,” she whispered, and her arms wrapped around Nate’s torso and squeezed.

this isn’t right

“I won’t leave you again, baby. I promise.”

that’s her voice but that is NOT HER VOICE

Nate winced in pain as her grasp tightened. “Ow! Baby, you’re hurting me…”

“Love is supposed to hurt.” This time, the whisper was sharp, almost sinister. He tried to slip an arm free, but couldn’t break her grasp.

“Please,” he wheezed as a lance of pain pierced his side. “Please let go…”

“Oh, Nathan,” she said, the alluring lilt in her voice replaced by malice. “I will never let you go…”

“AAAAGH!!”

Nate bolted upright, his eyes wide open. He took in rapid, shallow breaths, letting them out just as quickly.

Once the panic subsided, he slowed his breathing and took stock of his surroundings. He was in bed, in his hotel room, in London.

Alone.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he tossed his bedsheet aside. “Not this shit again.”

He swung his legs to the floor and wiped his hand across his face, half-expecting it to be damp with sweat.

Recurring nightmares about Skye Reeves hadn’t been on Nate’s Christmas list. But the heart wants what it wants…which apparently was to torture him while he slept, leaving his chest feeling just as empty as his arms.

At least I woke up before she turned into a giant snake this time

A glance at the clock gave him more bad news; it was half past three in the morning. Too late to get any meaningful sleep before his alarm went off, especially if it meant another round of the Skye dream. More likely he’d just sit here in the dark until 5 o’clock, trying and failing to get her off his mind.

Nate grabbed his phone and unlocked it. He’d made a point of deleting his old stash of photographs, but he knew which apps still had some in case of emergency.

He didn’t open any of those, though. Instead he went for one that was sure to contain no pictures of Skye at all.

The Colton family chat.

@BWColton: They mostly happen out in the ocean or by the poles. We won’t see another one for twenty years.

Nate cracked a smile. Blake’s eclipse infodump wasn’t his idea of a great time, but it was a lot less harmful than the alternative.

@NCColton: Sup losers

@BTColton: hey bro

@JVColton: hey nater

@BWColton: Hi Nate! Did you see the eclipse?

@NCColton: Nah, we didn’t get it in England. Saw the pictures though, very cool.

@BWColton: I think this one was even better than the last time!

Me too; I didn’t have to drive all the way to Paducah just because you were thirteen and somehow more interested in astronomy than girls

@NCColton: I bet. How are classes going? You ready for the summer?

@BWColton: More than. I’ve started doing some business courses and they’re SO BORING.

@NCColton: Heh. Sounds like how I felt when Dad talked me into an accounting class.

@BTColton: sounds like how i feel in this conversation

@BTColton: zzzzzzzzzz

@BWColton: You couldn’t even finish high school, so maybe take a seat.

@JVColton: lol blakeburn

@BTColton: no recovering from that guess ill just walk into the sea

@BWColton: You just want to get freaky with an octopus.

@NCColton: lol

@JVColton: lol blake is lighting u up bro

@BTColton: dammit kid when did you get so sassy

@BWColton: I took Intro to Sass last semester.

Nate laughed as he followed along. The group chat had been a lifeline across the ocean ever since Culture Shock; he could always count on them to lift his spirits.

@JVColton: what r u even doin awake nate isnt it like stupid early there

@NCColton: Yeah…couldn’t sleep

@BTColton: kohime keeping you awake huh ;)

…and bring them back down again.

Nice going, asshole. Benny thought about your girlfriend before you did. How many more women are you going to fuck up because you can’t let go

@NCColton: Nothing like that, just can’t sleep.

@BTColton: well figure it out you promised to go visit algie for me today

@NCColton: I know

@BTColton: and dont forget the thing it should still be in your carry on

@NCColton: I won’t

@BWColton: You’re starting to sound like Mom, Ben.

@BTColton: shut your butt squirt this is a big deal

@NCColton: Don’t worry about it, Benji. I’ll be there.

“Visiting Algie” didn’t mean much to Nate Colton beyond its connection to the shared history. But it was vitally important to his brother and cousin, and that was all he needed.

Nate checked the top of the dresser to make sure the item in question was ready to go in the morning. There among his wallet, passport, and assorted pocket detritus was a piece of red paper, folded into the shape of a heart.

Wrestlers had no shortage of rituals and superstitions, but like trombones in marching band, tag teams were a breed unto themselves. There was a whole separate culture on top of the normal wrestling society, with their own slang, customs, and legends. Also like trombonists, they were usually ska fanatics. Damnedest thing.

American wrestlers in Japan went to Denki Gai. Tag wrestlers in London went to Golders Green.

Nate returned to the chat, where the conversation had shifted to the lads’ upcoming title defense. He tried to catch up, but soon found himself stifling a yawn.

@NCColton: I’m fading again. Love you miss you, guys

@BWColton: Love you miss you, big bro.

@JVColton: luv u miss u, give hime a big hug for us

@BTColton: night nate

He crawled back under his covers, far more at peace than when he woke up. It may not have been ideal, but the extra rest would help, especially with the long day ahead. And hey, a bonus–he didn’t go ruining the night by obsessing over his ex-girlfriend.

It was a truth he’d forgotten for a while, much to his detriment, and hoped he never had to learn it again.

No matter what his problems were, he didn’t have to face them alone.

He drifted off again and was greeted by serene and forgettable dreams, with nary a snake in sight.

# # #

The weather was remarkably pleasant when Nate and Kohime left Golders Green Station. Sunny and twelve degrees–which, as Nate frequently needed to remind himself, meant something very different outside the U.S.--made their ten-minute walk quite enjoyable.

Not as enjoyable as the company, of course…but certainly more enjoyable than their destination.

“Thanks for coming along,” Nate said. “A cemetery probably isn’t your idea of a good time.”

“It’s okay,” Kohime replied, though she gave Nate’s hand a little extra squeeze. “A good adventure can be spooky sometimes!”

A grin spread across his face, aided by a trace of her perfume that wafted through the air. “That’s a relief. I’ll keep holding your hand, just in case.”

“Ha! I’m not scared!” she said, holding her chin up in defiance.

“I know. I’m holding your hand in case I get scared.”

She giggled, and batted at his arm with her free hand. “You’re such a goof.”

A feeling of ease came over Nate, and he savored every bit of it. Being with Kohime was so unlike anything he’d experienced in his romantic life. Most of his efforts had just been about the pursuit, or an eagerness to impress. Kohime didn’t bring that kind of pressure to his mind; he could just relax, be himself, and see where the road took them.

In this case, it took them to Golders Green Crematorium. The oldest facility of its kind in London, Golders Green served its duties to about two thousand per year. It put up no barriers regarding religion or social status, but still boasted an impressive number of celebrities. War heroes and world leaders, authors and artists had all passed through its gates. The memorial plaques on the building’s facade mentioned Bram Stoker, Neville Chamberlain, Sigmund Freud, Amy Winehouse, and countless others.

“Who are we here to see?” Kohime asked.

“Algernon Hart,” Nate said. “Tag wrestler from back in the day. One of the absolute best ever. Part of the Four Aces, too.”

“Like in Bang!?”

“Nah, they came later. This group was from way back…like, the Eighties. Hart, Lester Schmidt, Jackie Drummond, and Julius Slater. Four of the best came together and pretty much ran the show for a decade. Hart and Schmidt were champions everywhere they went, and they–”

He stole a glance at Mori, who was looking back at him with a hint of vacancy in her eyes. It was the same look she gave him during the historical walking tour of Boston.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No! It’s very interesting!”

“It’s okay, ‘Hime. I sometimes forget that you’re not as into the history as I am…and I know I can go on a bit when I get into Dad’s stories.”

“You can keep going; I don’t mind. I promise!”

That’s sweet, but you look like I do when Blake talks about the eclipse four days after it’s over

“Long story short, the Heartless Express were the best tag team in the world, and the Four Aces were the best group. Nobody could touch those guys at their height.”

“What happened then?!”

“Hart died. Killed in his hotel room.”

Kohime tightened her grip on Nate’s hand again, and her eyes went wide with shock. “That’s awful!”

“Yep. They never found out who did it, either.”

“Does anyone know why he was…do they know why?”

Nate walked in silence while he thought of the right way to put it. Algernon Hart had been an inveterate womanizer…and manizer too, though that open secret wasn’t confirmed until after his death.

The trouble was, Kohime got embarrassed easily, especially on the topic of sex. She had accidentally touched his butt at the gym once, and the blush didn’t leave her face the rest of the day. He told her it was okay, that he knew it was just an accident. He wanted to tell her that if she touched his butt on purpose, that would be okay too. But of course that would only make it worse.

They’d have to talk about it someday, but Kohime Mori wasn’t about to broach the subject, because she was so shy. Nate also had no plans on forcing the issue, because he was the kind of shy that comes from being bitten a few times.

“Pretty sure it was jealousy. Algernon…got around a bit, and didn’t always care if the other person was already involved.”

It may have been a lot more delicate than “a legend between the ropes and between the sheets,” but it was still enough to turn her cheeks bright red.

They continued quietly, fingers still loosely intertwined, until they arrived at the Crematorium. A brick building sequestered behind a short but gated wall, Golders Green showed a simple but well-designed form that made no illusions about its function.

They entered the gates and entered the main building. Nate looked briefly at a map posted on the wall, then led the way to the cemetery out back. Nate turned sharply as soon as they were outside again, almost missing that Kohime had not turned with him.

“Ope! Don’t lose me, Kohime. You promised to protect me from the scary ghosts.”

She tittered behind her hand, then sheepishly caught back up Nate. “So we’re not going into the cemetery?”

“Nah. His ashes aren’t here; they went to his family’s estate. But there’s a memorial thing on the wall over here somewhere.”

Kohime looked down the cloister and saw that just about every available brick space was covered with a small plate commemorating the life of someone’s dearly departed. “Gosh, there’s a lot! How are we going to find it?”

Nate smiled as he pointed at the ground on the far end of the cloister, where the cement seemed to be a different color. “I think it won’t be too hard.”

As they walked along, the discoloration on the sidewalk became clearer; it was caused by a number of small red scraps, piled up in front of the wall and spreading outward. A few more were tucked behind one of the plaques, taking shape as they finished their approach. They weren’t just scraps; they were paper hearts. Each one, just like the one in Nate’s pocket, was a vibrant red, with a jagged black line drawn down the middle.

Taking care not to step on any of the handmade ornaments, Nate and Kohime finally came close enough to read the words on the memorial.

In Loving Memory ALGERNON SHAWCROSS HART “The Ace of Hearts” 27 October 1961 - 12 April 1996

“Huh,” Nate said while looking at the marker, as if reading the printed dates made them real. “That was…like, two months after Dad fought him in Japan. Wild.”

“The Ace of Hearts,” Kohime read from the memorial plate. “I think I understand.”

“He broke a lot of ‘em in his life. But after he died…”

He regarded the small pile of hearts, gathered together like autumn leaves after a full day of raking. How many people had already been here today? A hundred, at least…and who knows how many more would make the journey after they left.

Nate pulled a similar paper heart from his own pocket, turning it over in his hands and noting the care with which it had been made.

I think Benny put more effort into this than he did for all of high school

It was as close to symmetrical as one could get with human hands, and even the line was drawn with a kind of precision.

What would you think of us today, Algernon? What would we think of you?

Algernon Hart served as both inspiration and cautionary tale. A man of exceptional talent, his charisma made him one of the all time greats…until his vices got the best of him, and the very thing that made him a legend also brought him low.

Just like the rest of the Aces.

I bet some people think you got off lucky, considering how the others turned out. You all grabbed onto a piece of what we do and believed it was the whole thing. It’s more than sex, or attention, or dominance, or violence. It’s so much more.

It’s a shame you never saw that.

Part of him wondered if the deceased legend deserved this tribute…but he ignored that part, just like he’d been ignoring it all day.

You were here, and you were one of us. You deserve to be remembered…because everyone does.

“Gotta remember how this is supposed to go…”

There was a small gap between hearts tucked into the top of the plaque; Nate placed the one his brother made into that gap, then pulled out the heart to its right and let it flitter to the ground. It landed with the marked line facing down…which meant something, but Nate couldn’t remember what.

And that was it. Well, almost.

He turned to Kohime, who was still watching silently. “Benny will want a picture. Do you mind?”

“No problem!” While she readied her phone, Nate cleared a small spot where he could kneel on bare concrete. Just because Algie was careless with people’s feelings, that didn’t mean he had to be.

Nate knelt down and faced Kohime, his head just to the side of the marker he’d placed on his brother’s behalf. He held one arm above his head, index finger raised in the salute that Algernon and his friends made famous.

Aces High.

The camera flash went off, and Kohime nodded with satisfaction. “Got it.”

Nate pushed himself back up to his feet and brushed off his pants. A stray heart had stuck to his knee somehow; he plucked it loose and set it gently back on the ground.

When he turned toward Kohime, she was looking at him with her usual sweet smile.

“I think we're done,” he said. “Unless we want to go looking for someone else.”

“No…this place is pretty, but we can go somewhere else.”

“Any ideas? This was my thing, so it's definitely your turn.”

“Oh, I know!” she said, her face bubbling with excitement. “Let's go to the zoo! They have lions, and a new reptile house!”

“I do love a good lion,” he replied. “Let’s do it.”

The couple made their way back to the street, then retraced their route toward the station. Every so often, they’d cross paths with someone walking toward the crematorium. Nate gave a few of them a knowing nod, as he could tell they were also in the business. There were telltale signs–their build, their posture…and the red paper heart in their hands.

I know it’s not the kind of love you usually enjoyed, Mr. Hart. But I hope you feel it all the same.

With that thought, Nate’s mind turned to the future, and a trip to the zoo. He was especially excited about the lions, and how happy Kohime would be to see them.

They could skip the reptile house, though. Nate was in no mood for snakes.

# # #

“We’re not so different, you and I.”

Do they still say that in movies? You know, the villain does his big speech to the hero about how they should be working together, and society doesn’t understand either one of them, yadda yadda. Usually ends with the guy getting punched off a building. Good times.

Nah, you’re probably not much of a movie guy.

But you get what I’m saying, right? You think you’ve got common ground with someone ‘cause you kind of agree on something, but their idea of it is some kind of twisted funhouse mirror version.

I wonder if you ever see that. Because I do.

I see it every time…and I need you to understand how fucking frustrating it is.

I’ve heard the way you talk about fighting, and it sounds so familiar. That high you get when it’s going right? I know that feeling. I love that feeling. There’s just one difference in the way we think about it…but that difference is so big that you might as well be on the goddamn moon.

See, I love a good fight…but I don’t like hurting people. And I’m sure you’re scoffing right now, because that’s what you fuckers always do.

I gotta say…for a guy who’s all about “expanding your mind,” your view of wrestling is pretty goddamn narrow.

You grabbed a piece of what we do, and you believe it’s the whole thing.

You talk about causing pain as if that's the only way to wrestle, which…holy shit, your head’s just all the way up your ass on that one. Punching a guy in the face or dropping him on his head…that’s a means to an end, but it’s not the end itself.

Wrestling isn’t about causing pain. It’s about control.

Controlling your opponent, sure. But it’s more about controlling yourself. Not giving in to your base instincts, or chasing the highs. Refusing to sacrifice long-term goals for short-term gratification.

If you understood that, maybe you’d see the real damage you cause. Ending careers. Enabling Paxton Ray’s worst instincts. Clutching your pearls when we call you a violent maniac, just because you constantly act like one.

Opening your third eye doesn’t do a damn bit of good if your first two are still closed.

I think it’s time for you to be the student, Sage. That’s why I’ve got two goals heading into ReV46. First and foremost, I’m going to make sure my hand is raised once the bell rings.

The second one? I’m going to broaden your horizons, and show you that our sport is so much more than you have ever dreamed. I will deliver you a truly transformative experience.

I promise you this, Sage.

You are not going to like it.