Too Many Hands

“Kerry. It’s been a while. About a year and a half, right?”

“Feels like a lifetime.”

“Last time we did this, you were trying to gain momentum, and I was trying to get my life back on track.”

“Did we succeed? Damned if I know.”

“I do know that I got damn lucky last time around, pulling off that pin. So I haven’t been surprised at all at the success you’ve had since. I knew that no matter how high I climbed the mountain here in PRIME, you wouldn’t be far behind.”

“Wouldn’t you know it, here we are. I can feel you right behind me, your breath on my neck as you look to take my place.”

“And I love it.”

“Guys like us shouldn’t be as rare as we are. The ones who choose to be the substance, in a world that worships style. The real deal, thrown in among the phonies and fakers.”

“The fact that you’re still carrying that banner is bigger than any single win you’ve picked up, or title you’ve held. That’s how I know, Kerry.”

“If I want to get where I’m going, you’re the man I need to face. Someone who’s going to make me better, no matter how the match shakes out. We’ll be iron together, and we’ll sharpen each other.”

“And then? Then, there’s a big gold belt that’s calling out to me.”

“I’ll get another shot at the Universal Title someday, and I’m gonna win the damn thing. When I do, I’ll take a second to breathe, look back at what I’ve accomplished…and then I’m gonna get right the fuck back to work, because a second is all I can spare.”

“I’ll hear those footsteps. I’ll feel that breath on my neck.”

“I’ll know who’s right behind me…and that you don’t plan to stay there.”

“Try to stop me, Kerry.”

“Or, try to catch me.”

# # #

April 6, 2025. Maskwacis, Alberta. First Nations Wrestling.

The match results on RingDispatch.com read:

Melissa Talamantez & Nate Colton d. The Sixkiller Brothers (James/Julian Sixkiller) by pinfall at 14:38 after the Mescalero Driver II (spinning tombstone) from Talamantez to Julian

But they didn’t tell the whole story.

No mention of the overwhelmingly negative reaction Colton got from the crowd–international superstar or not, he was still a white man–or how he’d won them over by the end of the match. Or how he had Julian Sixkiller dead to rights, but chose to tag out and let Melissa score the win.

Tanner Quest also neglected to mention their post-match celebration–a tight hug, followed by a well-choreographed handshake involving two right-hand slaps, followed by an intense high five with full follow-through, culminating with simultaneous slaps on the butt. (The Scandal Sheet did not neglect this moment; instead making it the day’s top story.)

And while Quest did praise the quality of their teamwork, the writer ascribed it to the close friendship of their fathers and the connection established between Nate and Melissa since they began training.

That connection had been established a lot earlier.

Good thing, too. You’d have to be pretty good friends with someone to survive the two-day road trip from Maskwacis to Las Vegas.

They were about to start the last leg of their journey, which had already involved driving across three states and a province, plus a hotel and a few too many beers in Pocatello. A quick stop in St. George to grab food and top off the tank, then the final stretch into Las Vegas.

“Still say we should have flown, iṉaa,” Melissa groused as she opened the passenger door of Nate’s trusty Prius. Her hands were filled with low-sodium jerky, a bag of trail mix, a few bottled waters, and a large iced coffee.

Nate rolled his eyes and grabbed the receipt from the gas pump. “Funny, I don’t remember that. I remember a lot of complaining about the price, and how I was probably sick of planes anyway…”

“Nah, that’s not right. Maybe you need hearing aids.” She rolled one of the bottles across the top of the car, forcing Nate to lunge for it when it reached his side.

“Maybe you need shutting up lessons.”

The grins on their faces belied the nature of their words. No matter how much faster air travel was, neither one would have traded the journey for anything…except maybe a few extra passengers.

“Shame Zoe and Jae couldn’t join us. Coulda done a real trip.”

“God, that would have been awesome…but no, someone had to go and have a baby.”

“It’s like they don’t even realize we’re the most important people in their lives. Rude.”

“So rude.”

Like Melissa and Nate, Zoe Clark and Seong-Jae Lee were part of a wrestling legacy; their fathers were a formidable tag team in their heyday. Zoe and Jae’s partnership took a…different turn. They married almost four years ago, and recently celebrated the birth of their first child–a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Nate’s mother.

“Has Mal stopped bugging you about kids yet?” Melissa asked, grinning broadly at the answer she knew was coming.

“Of course not,” he said, drawing a chuckle from his longtime friend. “She won't stop until one of us swears off condoms, just to shut her up."

“Ha! Your mom’s a terror.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Remember the time she caught us playing Spin the Bottle? Man, she freaked out.”

Nate’s memory of the event sprung to mind, bringing out another laughed. “She never would have known if Zoe hadn’t gotten so mad.”

“Oh God, that’s right! ‘SPIN IT AGAIN, GAWD DAMMIT!’” Melissa shouted, in her best impression of their friend’s Texas drawl.

“I think if the bottle landed on me again, she would have smashed it over my head.”

“And you still wouldn’t know how good a kisser Jae is.”

“One of the great regrets of my life,” Nate said, adding a thick layer of wistfulness.

Melissa cracked, and her laughter brought out more of the same from Colton.

The laughter eventually died down, punctuated with a heavy sigh from Nate. “God, I miss those guys.”

“Me too, iṉaa. Probably never see ‘em again, now that they got a kid…and live in Sacramento.” She carefully removed the lid from her coffee, before bringing it to her lips.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I love anyone enough to–shit shit shiiiiiiiiit–”

“Fuck!”

Colton pushed down on the brake, narrowly avoiding the driver who swerved into his lane.

Neep! went the horn, the war cry of an angry Prius driver. Melissa quickly drowned it out with a string of profanity, brought on by ice-cold liquid splashing over the front of her shirt.

“God fucking shit fucking dammit you shitsucking sack of–”

“You OK?”

“No, I’m fucking soaked!” Melissa unbuckled her seat belt and turned around. “All my shit’s in the way back. You got a spare shirt in this bag?”

“The black one? Yeah, I think so–whoa!”

Melissa rolled her eyes as she peeled the wet shirt from her body, revealing a black bra that was far more functional than stylish. “Knock it off, iṉaa. Ain’t like you haven’t seen this before.”

“True,” he said, but still kept his eyes pointed forward.

Mostly.

She mopped up the rest of the coffee from her chest using the old shirt, then turned around and rooted through Nate’s travel bag. “Remember that time we all went skinny dipping in the creek out back of Zoe’s house?”

“Heh. Yeah, I remember. Pretty sure that was her idea, too. Man…how much of our shenanigans happened because she was trying to hook up with Jae?”

“Oh, a third at least.” Melissa turned around, now with an old Indiana University t-shirt in her hands. She slipped it on; it was a little baggy but not uncomfortable. “There, I’m decent now.”

“First time for everything.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Show Hog.”

“Oh, don’t you fucking start…”

But start she did, and he continued. And they didn’t end until they got to Las Vegas.

# # #

They pulled up to Nate’s apartment in the late afternoon, far too late for Melissa to start the long drive home.

When she pointed this out, Nate’s answer came out like a reflex.

“You can crash at my place.”

“You sure?” Talamantez asked. “Your girlfriend won’t mind?”

“She’s…out of town, still. It’ll be fine–you can do some laundry, I’ve got some beers in the fridge, we can order in…it’ll be like another night on the road, only we don’t have to check for bedbugs.”

“Sold. I am not going through that shit again.”

The old friends settled in for another evening. A few hours later, Nate and Melissa–now wearing a pair of Nate’s basketball shorts, to go with his t-shirt–enjoyed Thai cuisine and American beers, binged a show on Netflix that they weren’t really watching, and just generally chilled.

“Big plans for the summer?” Nate asked, right before slurping down a big wad of noodles. By the end of the Japan tour, he’d finally passed Remedial Chopsticks and was eager to show off.

“Yeah. Dad’s putting together a big show in The Q, like every summer. The Sixkillers hit me up about it after our match; they want to come down for it.”

“Oh, nice! They were really good.”

“And then there’s the big day in August. You’re gonna be there, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Melissa gave him a genuine smile, which held none of her usual teasing or sarcasm. “Good. This…” She trailed off, then finished her beer as an excuse to not finish her thought.

“Hmm?”

She pushed herself off the couch and stood to face her host. “Just…this whole week has been great. Spending time with you again. I’ve really missed this.”

“Me too,” he said. “We really need to do this more often, ‘Lis.”

“Yeah we do.”

She reached out for an embrace, which he returned. “Nate, you’re a really good…”

A good what? We’ll never know, because Melissa’s words were cut off by the turning of a key.

Before Nate knew what was happening, the door opened…and Kohime Mori appeared.

For the first instant, she looked exhausted…which she was. Culture Shock and the weeks since had been very stressful for Kohime, and she’d stayed behind in Tokyo while Nate returned to the United States.

Now, after a long flight, she was hoping to see the man she loved. And see him she did.

Hugging another woman. One who was tall, beautiful…and wearing his clothes.

Exhaustion quickly gave way to shock. Kohime stood stock-still in the doorway, motionless other than her bottom lip…which was starting to quiver.

“Umm…hey, baby…” Nate said, putting on an unconvincing smile. “I…didn’t know you were back…?”

Melissa Talamantez chortled. “Oof. You really stepped in it this time, iṉaa.”

Nate’s response came through clenched teeth.

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Lis.”

# # #

She’d been too shocked to run away. That, miraculously, worked out in Nate’s favor.

He led her into the bedroom, then ran off to the kitchen to make her favorite tea. When he returned, Kohime was sitting on the bed, clutching Oinkers McGoo tightly to her chest.

“Here,” he whispered, handing her the cup. She absent-mindedly accepted it, took a small sip…and spit it back into the cup, her face twisting in disgust.

“That’s horrible,” she said.

“Sorry. I…tried.” He took the cup back and set it on the dresser, where it couldn’t hurt anyone else, then sat next to her on the bed. “So…we should talk about that.”

Kohime nodded. “That’s your friend, right? Melissa?”

“Yeah. We just got back from a show up near Calgary. It’s too late for her to drive back home, so she’s crashing on the couch and heading out in the morning.”

“Oh. But…she’s wearing your shirt…”

“She needed something to wear while she does laundry.”

I can ask her to take it off if you want–NO DON’T SAY THAT YOU FUCKING IDIOT

A beautiful kick save kept the intrusive thoughts off the board…but that goalie was getting tired…

“I was just going to go home,” she started. “But I didn’t want to be alone, so I came here and saw your car and I wanted to surprise you, but then I saw you and her and…and I…”

“Shhhh, shh shh…it’s okay.” He put his arm over her shoulder, and instantly regretted that decision.

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she drew in a sharp breath. The words that followed were whisper soft…and all the more forceful because of it.

“Please don’t.”

“...right. I’m sorry.”

He moved away from her on the bed, allowing some space between them. “So, you’ve met Melissa before. I know you know her.”

Kohime nodded. “She’s your friend.”

“Not just my friend, ‘Hime. She’s my best friend. Has been since we were…like, three. Whenever Dad and his friends got together, we’d spend the whole time tearing around together. ‘Lis, me, Jae and Zoe…didn’t matter how long we were apart, when we got back together it was like no time passed at all. Some of the best times of my life. They’re my crew, and I love them all to death. But not the same way I love you.”

Kohime closed her eyes. A teardrop rolled down her cheek, and Nate’s heart fell with it.

I hate that I’m making you cry

“You and she…did you…?”

“No! I told you; she just needed a clean shirt, and…”

Mori cut him off. “No, I mean…did you ever?”

“Oh.” Nate thought for a moment, sifting through the memories as quickly as he could. “Nah. We kinda tried once, when we were teenagers. Bailed out pretty quick. It just…didn’t feel right.”

Kohime drew her breath in again. Nate risked another comforting hand on the shoulder; this one, she allowed.

“We weren’t like Zoe and Jae; those two were in love as soon as they met. ‘Lis and I just didn’t have that spark. Yeah, sometimes we flirt a little bit, or we bicker like an old married couple. But I promise, that’s all we do.”

“So…just friends? Nothing more?”

“Nothing more. Just friends is all we want. If you need any more proof…when we go back out there, take a look at her left hand.”

Kohime opened her mouth to ask a question, but soon realization dawned. “I’m sorry, Nate. I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” she said, and slid closer to Nate on the bed, allowing him to slip his arm around her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, ‘Hime,” he whispered. “Just a weird situation. And I…probably need to think about how I behave with my friends now. We’re not kids anymore.”

“Does this mean I can’t slap him on the butt?” Melissa called out from the other room.

“Stop helping, ‘Lis!” Nate shouted back.

“You what?”

“It’s not like that,” he said, defensively. “It’s more like a locker room thing.”

“Well, they should definitely stop. Only I get to touch your butt.” The declaration was barely above a whisper, and her cheeks turned bright red.

“Don’t worry, babe. You’re stuck with me. Especially when it comes to Melissa…she snores like a chainsaw.”

Another shout. “I do not, iṉaa!”

A curious look crossed the young woman’s face. “She keeps calling you that. Is it a bad word?”

“It means ‘white person.’ So…kinda?”

Kohime giggled, and held out her hand so that Nate could pull her up to her feet.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Much.”

“Good. Let me try and do it right this time.”

Nate Colton led Kohime out the door and into the living room, where he gave a proper formal introduction to both women. Melissa spoke at length about how much happier Nate seemed to be now that he was in an actual relationship, and Kohime congratulated Melissa on her upcoming engagement.

# # #

I need your help again, Kerry.

Last time it was to help me get my life back together. But it’s far too late for that now.

I feel like I’m walking on a wire that’s fraying on one end. It’s too late for me to get to safety. Everything’s going to come apart soon.

I need

I need you to

I

I don’t know

I need something

I don’t want to hurt anyone, but…

But yes.

Yes I do.

I really, really want to hurt someone. And I’m not sure I care who.

Most of them deserve it for something or other.

Not them

Most of us

Two weeks ago I visited a girl in the hospital. She was there because of two fucking idiots who couldn’t control themselves.

She didn’t even want to see me, because of how she looked.

I did my best for her, I put on that smile and that brave face, but I couldn’t tell her…

I can’t even tell you, not really…

…that I’m not sure how much longer I can control myself, either.

That’s what I need from you, I think. I need you to be the man I think you are.

The friend you’ve been to Scott. To RIA.

Because that wire keeps fraying. If nothing changes, I’m going to fall soon…

Promise you can catch me, Kerry.

Or…

Promise you can stop me.