Chug All Night

Before Nate Colton left Japan, he sent a text to his sister.

Jenny, what the fuck

He didn’t get a response…not that he expected one. She’d barely spoken to him since Colossus.

Still, an answer would have been nice. He really wanted to know what the fuck.

I know everything is fucked but Blake is barely out of PT and Dad’s barely talked in a week and I bet Trece doesn’t even know yet

The question came up when Nate was waiting for her in the Tokyo Dome Hotel lobby, only to find out she wasn’t coming. She was, in fact, staying in Japan…for a year.

What the fuck?

The Lads barely knew more than he did. She may have told them the what, but certainly not the what the fuck.

Then they hopped on their flight to Los Angeles, leaving him alone for an hour in the terminal, then ten hours on the plane.

Long enough to ignore three movies, pretend to read a book, and compose a detailed list of everything that could go wrong with Jenny’s new career path.

Is she going to wear the same clothes every day? She only packed for five days, she’ll have to live at the laundromat

Stuck in an airborne tin can, alone with his thoughts.

You can’t just say “oh hey I’m staying longer” there’s all the shit with work visas did you even talk to Dad about this?

Some thoughts were rational.

Oh God she’s going to piss off the yakuza and get herself killed

Others…

Oh God she’s going to take over the yakuza and come after me for all those noogies

…extremely rational.

All through the flight. The wait to deplane. Customs…Jesus Christ, Customs. Wait after wait, delay after delay. All faced with no more outward complaint than the occasional exhausted sigh.

Inward complaints were a different story.

CHECK FASTER GOD DAMMIT OR I’M GONNA STRANGLE SOMEBODY

He shuffled back and forth as the agents finished checking his bags. One of them cast a suspicious eye at Colton.

I swear I’m not up to anything I need to use the bathroom or it’s gonna start leaking out the side

The same agent rifled through Nate’s garment bag, finally coming upon his ring jacket. “Hey, Pat…does this look familiar to you?”

The other, obviously Pat, took a closer look. “Nah, yeah. Couple years ago, when one of our wrestler blokes did that tournament thing in the States? Someone had a jacket like that.”

“That’d be my sister,” Nate offered, the words a little more gruff than he intended. His blood started running cold, like he already knew where this was headed.

“I let my kid stay home from school so he could watch,” Pat continued. “Big mistake, some ugly Yank tore our boy apart. Bloody mess, that was.”

“D’you mean a bloody mess, or a bloody mess?”

“Both. Heard someone finally put that bastard out of his misery…broke his neck, right in the middle of the ring.”

The cold blood turned into a cold sweat. “That’s not what–”

The agent looked up at Nate, without acknowledging his words. “If you ever meet the guy who did it, buy him a beer for me, eh?”

“Uh…sure.”

“Cheers, mate.”

The rest of the screening went quickly, with the agents openly chatting about the fate that befell Paxton Ray and how it was too good for him. With every passing word, the knot in Nate’s stomach twisted tighter.

Please stop talking I’ll do whatever you want I need out of this conversation and this line and this crowd and this FUCKING AIRPORT WHY WON’T YOU LET

“Everything looks clear, Mr. Colton. Enjoy your time in Australia!” Pat’s coworker said with a cheery smile, as if she hadn’t just opened a fresh can of worms inside Nate’s head.

Stop thinking about worms you’ll only make it worse

“Thank you,” he said, a wan smile plastered on his face. He grabbed his baggage–even in distress, Nate Colton was a one-trip king–and made a beeline for the nearest restroom.

Once inside, he threw his bags against the wall and headed straight for a stall, barely having enough time to close the door before he knelt down in front of the bowl.

“HHUUUUUUULLLLGGGHHH!”

The remnants of his in-flight meal splashed into the water. The smell lingering in the air made Nate retch again; he jammed his thumb against the button to flush it away before it sparked another round.

“Shouldn’t drink so much on the plane, mate!” another traveler shouted, drawing a good laugh from the other patrons.

I wish, Nate thought as he spit the bile and saliva from his throat. The worst hangover still feels better than this.

When his stomach settled, Nate stood up and quickly remembered his other need. He resolved that too, drawing a few more comments and strange looks when he left the stall to wash up.

Take a picture, it’ll last–NO DON’T

Click.

Oh, fuck me

Resigned to the loss of his dignity, Nate washed his hands, then unzipped the front pocket of his carry-on–miraculously, still where he left it–and pulled out a bag of toiletries.

Might as well give ‘em a clean smile before I start eating shit

Once he composed himself and left the restroom, Nate sent a text to Geoffrey Noble–the most prestigious trainer in the country, owner of the House of Noble facility in Melbourne, with satellite gyms in several other cities.

Finally made it through customs

Bonzer Sent a couple galahs to pick you up, they should be there Have a good time but don’t believe a word they say

Will do. I’ll see you in the morning, sir.

Rack off

Nate rolled his eyes. Like many old-timers, Geoff Noble hated being reminded of that fact. But soothing the man’s ego was a small price to pay for full access to House of Noble facilities for the next month.

That text would have to come later; he was in no mood to kiss ass. A mood that turned more sour with every step, as the mass of people trying to depart grew larger and tighter, slowing Nate’s progress even more than the baggage.

The “galahs”--whatever those are–better be there already; I am over this place and these people WHY ARE YOU SO GODDAMN SLOW ROLLING SUITCASES AREN’T THAT HEAVY

NATE COLTON

He nearly missed the sign, focused as he was on his current troubles. It only caught his eye because one of the “N”s was backwards. But not both.

I don’t know if that’s better or worse

“That’s me,” he said to the young man holding it. Nate assumed this was a galah; he certainly looked like one…whatever it was.

“G’day!” the man replied, his expression resting somewhere between “easygoing smile” and “shit-eating grin.” His clothes–flip-flops, shorts, and a jersey for a team and sport Nate didn’t know–reminded him of the outdoorsy types back home, who loved to brag about their backpacking trips. “Name’s Arlo. Arlo Mussett.”

Nate shook his hand. “Nate Colton–well, I guess you knew that.”

“Nah, yeah,” Arlo said. “Lemme give you a hand.”

Colton only barely resisted as Arlo grabbed his gym bag and threw the strap over his own shoulder.

“You don’t have to–”

“No worries. Anything for the bloke who king-hit Paxton Ray.”

Oh God, not again

Before Nate knew what happened, Arlo also grabbed his rolling suitcase and headed for the exit. Keeping up should have been easy now that he wasn’t as encumbered…but Arlo’s compliment had left him with a load even heavier than his bags.

“Me cobber’s waiting in the truck,” Arlo chattered, taking no notice of how far Colton had fallen behind. Nate kept his guide in view, mostly by focusing on the “Mills 14” on the back of the jersey.

I bet Matt Mills would get a kick out of that

Their ride was a dirt-covered truck belching smoke in the pickup lane. Nate knew the type; back in high school, he’d ridden in similar vehicles on his way to get drunk in a corn field. The driver, a hulking man who looked like he’d been carved from granite by someone who didn’t believe in details, wore a shirt that stretched taut over his broad chest. It read, “Wombats Is Too Stupid To Know Fear.”

I bet I already know your name, big fella. Mom made us watch that movie a few times

Arlo tossed Nate’s bag into the truck bed, then jerked a thumb toward his friend. “Allow me to introduce our driver, and my best mate. This is Donk.”

Of course he is

“I’m Donk,” said Donk.

Of course you are

Once the rest of Nate’s bags were stowed and introductions complete, Nate and Arlo piled in the truck. “What’s next?” Arlo asked. “I know a pub that’ll be chockers already. Lots of bewdys; you can take your pick.”

Nate barely understood Arlo was putting down, and didn’t want to pick it up. “No thanks. I’m…spoken for, and I don’t think I could handle a crowd right now.”

“Ah,” Arlo said, slightly disappointed. Donk leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and both men grinned. “Tell you what. I know someplace else, a little quieter. How’zat?”

“I’d–

I’d rather go to the hotel, he thought.

But do I? I spent all day in one box after another. Why would I want to go back?

“That sounds…bonzer?”

Donk let out a low, rumbling laugh, giving a good counterpoint to Arlo’s high-pitched wheeze. “Close enough, mate.”

Nate shook his head and forced a smile. “This place isn’t far, is it?”

“Yeah, nah,” Arlo said. “It’s…right out back.”

Nate leaned his head against the window, hoping to stare at the landscape but only getting an eyeful of the massive parking structure. The truck pulled into traffic, its engine loud enough to muffle the snickers from the other two men.

# # #

Good conversation can make a long trip feel short.

“I was just a grommet when Justin went off to that Belmont thingy. Got to train a lot with Nikki Bowman, though. She’s a cracker.”

Wait does that mean something else here

This one felt a hundred years long.

“When you put that ratbag Paxton in the dirt…that was a big night for all of us. I bet Justin would have loved it, if he’d been watching.”

Arlo did most of the talking. That would be fine, except he mostly wanted to talk about Nate’s fight with Paxton Ray.

While Nate wanted to talk about…literally anything else.

“Are you guys from Sydney, then? Or Melbourne?”

“Yeah, nah. I’m from Grafton; Donk’s from the Isa. We both came down ‘cause we loved the graps, but we’d never get a shot unless we came to the big smoke, right?”

Nate could still only parsed half of what Arlo said. I sure as shit know what a galah is now, though.

He rested his head against the window again, watching the few stray clouds crawl across the darkening sky, the occasional sheep grazing in the field…

Wait a goddamn minute

“So when you said this place was ‘right out back,’ you meant…”

The pair of Aussies sputtered for a moment, but couldn’t contain themselves. Arlo let out a full-blown cackle, while Donk shook so hard that he threatened to take the truck offroad.

You absolute motherfuckers–

“You set a record, mate!” Arlo shouted, once he was capable of speech. “Nobody’s ever taken this long before! You musta gone walkabout without your legs!”

I swear I’m gonna tear one of your heads off and shove it up the other one’s ass

The Blokes, as he was already thinking of them, kept laughing, oblivious to Nate’s rising anger. He opened his mouth to scream at his “guides.”

“...”

A clear picture flashed in his mind.

He was elbowing Arlo in the jaw, filling the young man’s mouth with blood.

He was reaching across the seat to punch Donk in the face, breaking his nose.

He was digging his thumbs into one of their throats. He couldn’t tell which.

He was staring into the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He was gone.

They were all gone.

His sister, who wasn’t speaking to him, never would again.

He wouldn’t get to see Blake finish college.

The circle–all the circles he was part of–forever broken.

Because of a stupid joke.

Because he couldn’t take a stupid joke.

His mouth was still open, but the sound that came out…

“Heh.”

It was…ridiculous.

“Hahaha.”

The laughter acted like a pressure valve, letting out the steam that clouded his vision.

“HahahahaHAAAAHAAHAAAA–”

His own laughter filled in the middle range between Donk and Arlo, a cacophonous blend of hearty guffaws, rapid-fire giggles, and drawn-out snorts.

“Good onya, Nate,” Arlo said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Most Yanks get all shirty when we do this to ‘em.”

“It’s…” Colton stopped to let a few more chuckles out. “It’s a really good gag. Gonna have to remember this when I get home.”

“Hey Arlo,” Donk rumbled. “Next town, let’s grab some sangers and Tooehy’s.”

“Ripper idea! Unless our Yank friend would rather have…Foster’s?”

They looked at him expectantly…but Nate was ready for this one.

“Yeah, nah. Not in the mood for roo piss.”

“Ha!”

# # #

So the three of them—Nate Colton, Arlo Mussett, and Chester “Donk” McLellan–drove out into the middle of nowhere, ate sandwiches, drank a few beers, and talked like they’d already been friends forever.

They talked about what the Strayan wrestling scene was like, the heroes, the villains, the inspirational figures and cautionary tales. While Nate didn’t know most of the names, he knew all the stories.

He talked about life in the big time. How everything was basically the same, but more. The power wrestlers were stronger, the luchadores faster, the technicians more exact. The risks were astronomical…but so were the rewards. If you were tough, or stubborn, or lucky enough…wrestling would give you everything.

He watched the stars of success dance in their eyes, because this business was not a place for people who doubt themselves.

Arlo talked about the prank that nearly got him kicked out of school. Donk confirmed that he got his nickname from one of his mom’s favorite movies. Nate explained the Creedence Curse, and nobody laughed at him.

They saw, and were seen…and the circle grew a little larger.

Just before they headed back–”old man Noble will shit if we’re late tomorrow”--Nate lied down in the truck bed and looked up at the stars. They looked the same as back in high school, when he and his friends would drive out into the sticks, crush beers and talk about the future. Back when he was young and invincible, and the whole of the universe felt just big enough to fit them and their dreams.

The universe felt so much bigger now. Or maybe, time and experience made him smaller.

Is that so bad, though?

He sat up a bit, enough to finish another bottle of Tooehy’s New, then rested his head back down.

Maybe I don’t need to carry the weight of the world all the time. I can put it down once in a while.

Not forever. People are still counting on me.

Just…long enough to enjoy myself.

To laugh at myself. Be the galah.

And remember why I carry that burden in the first place.

He heard Arlo and Donk laugh over a joke that he didn’t understand, the way he would with his siblings and cousin. He tapped his foot against the beer carton, hearing the rattle of bottles inside. Plenty more left…but not tonight. This one was just about over.

I hope you cherish this, boys. You’ll be in my place before you know it.

The drive back to Sydney seemed a lot shorter, the way return trips always do. They shared a few laughs, but mostly it was Donk focusing on the road while Arlo ran the stereo.

Nate felt his heart sink as the city’s glow bled into the sky. He knew that when he got back to the hotel, all his troubles would be waiting.

But so will the stars.

No matter how bright the lights get, the stars will be there above them, with room enough for our dreams.

Arlo had nodded forward, half asleep with his head against the dashboard. Behind him, Nate and Donk shared a knowing smile.

You remind me of my cousin. I guess still waters run deep everywhere, huh?

Nate whispered a message. Three short words that would unite the trio forever inside this fleeting moment.

“Honk the horn.”

# # #

“There was this poet from ancient Rome.”

Juvental, if you’re curious.

“He once wrote: ‘Revenge is sweeter than life itself.’”

“Makes me think of you, especially after what you said on jabber about my brother. Least, I think that’s what you said. You can be…a little hard to understand sometimes.”

“So you know, Benny has no idea what he did to piss you off. Now, that could mean anything. I love my brother, but if you could get paid for being stupid, he’d be LeBron James or some shit.”

“But it’s just as likely that you’re pissed over some shit you just…made up.”

“Either way…I got something to say to you, Fred. I know you won’t listen, but you at least need to hear it.”

“This journey of revenge you’re on?”

“I ain’t comin’ with you.”

“Seems like I spent all of last year trying to get payback for one thing or another. FLAMBERGE insulted my abilities, and I tapped him out.”

“Ivan Stanislav attacked my family. I knocked him out.”

“Paxton Ray.”

“...”

“...”

“Well.”

“All those scores, settled. And you know what it got me?”

“Not a goddamn thing.”

“FLAMBO is still a prick. Ivan is still a lying prick. Paxton is…”

“...”

“...”

“...I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“None of it helped me at all. Hell, most of it made things worse. Had me doing things I never would have considered otherwise.”

“Like joining Clay Byrd’s posse.”

“I’ve always believed in settling things in the ring. But that night, and that moment…I didn’t care. I just wanted to hurt someone…and you were there. If Clay were going after Tony Gamble, or Zapp Scatino, or any other shitheel that runs their mouth too much…wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

“I’ve had to take a long, hard look in the mirror since then. I saw the man I was turning into.”

“Can’t say I cared for him.”

“But that’s what happens in the revenge game. A bad person becomes a monster. A good person, just another fucker.”

“I ain’t about that life anymore. That’s not who I a–”

“...”

“That’s not who I want to be.”

“It’s a shame…’cause that would be so much easier. To stand here and say that you’re a piece of shit who deserves the ass-kicking I’m gonna give you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Fred. You are, and you do…and when we get to Sydney, I am gonna kick your ass.”

“But it won’t change anything.”

“Just like if you beat me, it won’t fill whatever hole in your heart that makes you the way you are.”

“You can lie to the world, and yourself, as much as you want. You can bury the truth in the deepest hole that’s ever been. But one day it will come up, and it’ll destroy you more completely than any sworn enemy ever will.”

“Revenge is a short-term comfort. It’s lighting yourself on fire to stay warm. It’s the most delicious poison ever made.”

“It’ll solve your problems, but it’ll never fix them.”

“You can go down that road if you want. But like I already said…”

“Anyway. That old Roman poet I was talking about.”

Juvental, if you’re still curious.

“He wrote: ‘Revenge is sweeter than life itself.’”

“But then he wrote something else, and this is the part that really reminds me of you.”

“So think fools.”

# # #

Nate finally checked into his hotel right around midnight. As tired as he was, he knew there was one thing to do before he crashed out.

@NCColton: hey fam it’s been a day but I finally got to the hotel. I think I’m gonna like it here How are we all doing

The thing about setting down your troubles, is that they’re always waiting for you to pick them up again.

@BTColton: were fucked is how were doing

@BWColton: Stop being dramatic.

That’s not “the bad thing.” It’s just “the thing.”

@JVColton: no dummy is right this is fucked

@DJColton: Blake, you need to think this through

@BWColton: I already have, and I’ve notified the school.

@NCColton: Wait, what the fuck What’s going on with school, Blake?

The bad thing is when you’re not looking…

@BWColton: I’m done with it. I’m not going back.

…new ones show up.