What Have I Got To Lose?

I. Romeo and Juliet

I got green and I got blues And everyday there's a little less difference between the two So I belly-up and disappear Well I ain't really drowning 'cause I see the beach from here

I promise, I won’t do it again.

Just a drink. Just one.

“Your break,” she calls to me with a wink, pulling the wood off that perfect triangle.

That’s what I told myself. Just one game of pool. A single drink.

I won’t do it again.

I never cared about the way the balls went in the rack. Who the fuck cares? You’re just breaking it up anyways.

Charlotte? Everything has a place and everything in its place. Drives me up the fucking wall.

That smile makes it worth it.

One more game and I’ll tell her goodnight.

She always broke first. The balls, I mean. But tonight she’s showing me some kind of mercy.

My head spins as I lean down to open the game. Maybe it's the dim lights in Flannagan’s Irish Pub.

Maybe it’s the pine cleaner on the cue.

It’s probably the four or five vodka red bulls and just being in her fucking orbit again.

BUZZ

DO NOT ANSWER

Todd. He’s been calling all week, looking for his money or my ass.

I ain’t letting him ruin this night.

No, right now I’m going to destroy this perfect rack.

CRACK

With a grimace I scan the table for some chance of hope. Nothing.

“Aww, looks like nothing,” she eases me out of the way with a little bump from her perfect hips.

“Yeah well, sometimes nothing is a real cool hand,” I whip back in my best Paul Newman voice.

She ignores me completely and bites her bottom lip right before introducing the cue ball to the nine.

She’s so perfect.

“You know,” she’s talking to me, but watching the table, “I was just getting used to being without you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

I don’t need to say more. There ain’t nothing comfortable about coming home to the quiet and the dark and she fuckin knows it.

“I’m gonna get us another round,” I call out as she goes on murdering me, one ball after another.

“You sure about that, cowboy?”

Woman, I’ve never been more fucking sure about anything.

“Why not? It ain’t a school night.”

A perfect combo to sink the eleven.

Someone drops a glass in the distance and the bar erupts in boos as it shatters.

“Ah, just business. You know how it goes.”

She ain’t buying what I’m selling.

“Look, PRIME is legit, but it’s still wrestling. This shit is rooted in carny life at the end of the day and it comes with all the sordid characters of any other circus act. I’m leaving no stone unturned to find out who attacked John.”

“I don’t mean them, Rob. Who was the kid that came in before them?”

“Oh, you know, he’s just some kid I’m training.”

“Right, cause you’ve always been about giving back,” Charlotte laughs at me.

She never misses.

I think about telling her the truth. It’s Finn. It’s the product of me fucking that valet I promised you that you didn’t have to worry about.

You know, he’s the thing that fucking doomed us.

“You know what this place needs?” I say as I’m already three steps from the table, “Some tunes.”

She keeps showing me mercy.

I beeline to the jukebox and drop a few quarters in. I’m just smashing buttons and shit looking for some type of salvation from this thing.

It whirs and clicks as it comes to life and I head back to the table.

A drum kicks from the old speakers. Kind of drum kick makes the whole bar talk a bit quieter, you know?

Fucking Prince.

Of course it’s fucking Prince. The universe never gives up an opportunity to mock me.

“I guess I should’ve known by the way you parked your car sideways that it wouldn’t last…”

The universe loves its irony.

The way she looks in that dim light.

Look man, I know I said just one more.

But I’m feeling god in this pub tonight.

I just can’t help myself.

“See, you’re the kinda person that believes in makin’ out once. Love ‘em and leave ‘em fast.”

She tries to hide her smile behind her drink, “Oh my god, Rob, stop.”

She’s blushing, but I know it’s cause she missed this. I did, too.

“I guess I must be dumb 'cause you had a pocket full of horses, Trojan and some of them used.”

THUD

I toss my stick onto the table sending the balls every which way.

I was going to lose anyway.

Two hundred and forty pounds of heartbreak trying to find rhythm.

I stretch my hand out for her.

“But it was Saturday night, I guess that makes it all right. And you say…” I’m Magic Johnson tossing it up.

"What have I got to lose?" And she’s Kareem with the skyhook.

She bites her lip at me again and I just can’t fucking take it anymore.

"Everything. That's the point."

We finally collide.

Just one more kiss.

II. Dear John

I could take a Greyhound home but when I got there it'd be gone Along with everything a home is made up of So I'll take two of what you're having and I'll take all of what you got To kill this goddamn lonely, goddamn lonely love

The cold of her pillow wakes me.

I forgot to turn the heat on again. Or pay the bill.

The alarm clock reads 10:00, but the sun says I didn't change the clocks.

I take a deep breath but only find regret. The room smells like sex, vodka, and... pine cleaner?

No time to dissect, need a toilet fast.

I put the hand not holding my puke back on the nightstand to pull myself up and I'm stopped dead in my tracks.

A little note with Char's handwriting sits on the hand-me-down dresser.

Jesus, fuck. She wrote her Dear John letter on a pink eviction notice.

“Dear Rob,” my voice echoes off the walls. Sound carries different in an empty room.

The paper is wet before I realize I'm crying.

Big wet spots that smear her pretty handwriting.

That’s why I put it back on the dresser.

BUZZ 

FINN

 

where r u? 

supposed 2 train, rmmbr?

My red eyes wander from one reminder of his inadequacy to the other.

It’s silent aside from the deafening sounds of a neglected home. The faucet dripping, the fridge compressor’s death rattle.

All I hear is fucking Prince.

But what have I got to lose?

“I promise I won’t do it again”, I mouth to no one.

No one left to lie to.

Charlotte

…

I type out vitriol and fire.

Delete.

...

I beg and plead and promise.

Delete again.

BUZZ

FINN

U coming?

yes

I splash some cold water on my face and retrieve the vodka I've hidden under the bathroom sink.

Who’s left to hide them from?

Fuck, that hits hard.

Between sliding arms in my shirt I manage to knock back a few swills of the warm vodka. Enough to keep the shakes at bay.

Grabbing my keys from the nightstand, I knock the eviction notice - her note, to the ground.

It stares at me for a long time before I pick it up.

Dear Rob,

I’m sorry. You looked too peaceful to wake. Ran to get breakfast, don't touch the vodka under the sink.

Love always, Your penguin. Oh.

She isn't leaving?

I laugh so hard it nearly brings the vomit back up.

For one brief moment I get a taste of what it all could be like. My love grabbing us breakfast, the kid ready to train.

BUZZ

DO NOT ANSWER

The Lord sees all, Robbie. 

You can’t duck me forever.

Will be meeting your family soon if you don't make good by Colossus.  Fuck.

I am the opposite of King Midas.

But what have I got to lose?

III. A Man Walks Into a Bar

Stop me if you've heard this one before: A man walks into a bar and leaves before his ashes hit the floor Stop me if I ever get that far The sun's a desperate star that burns like every single one before

“The usual?” the bartender asks with a consolation smile.

There’s a boilermaker on the wood before my twenty even hits the bartop.

“What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you, Roz?”

Roz looks like she once closed bars and opened hearts in leather pants. Now she just closes tabs.

“You need anything else, hon?”

I twist the pint glass around, staring at the carbonation trying to escape, too.

“A fresh start.”

“Ha! Sorry, we’re fresh out of those.”

“Then this will have to do. Thanks Roz.”

The first half of the drink goes down like Miles Davis.

BUZZ

Finn

 

U comin or wat? 

I can’t m-

I down the other half and delete all the bullshit.

Sick of lying.

Yeah, got hung up. Start without me. 

The stool next to me creaks. I didn't see anyone sit down.

“Hung up?” The Father asks from the barstool next to me.

“Roz, two more. Yeah, hung up. I'm busy drinking. Let me guess, you’re here to impart your wisdom. Something about burning ships or ascension or some such shit, right? Save it. I got no time for salvation today.”

“No, today I’m here for the irony,” The Father lights up a cigarette knowing I'm trying to quit.

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic," I wipe the leftover beer from my chin. My dad always used to say he was saving that for later.

"Not me," The Father says through a cloud of smoke, "You."

BUZZ

PRIME

 

Notification: ReVival 79 - Rob Williams vs. RIA Lockhart

"Well, if that ain't fucking perfect," I idly pull the shot glass from the empty pint.

My angel Roz delivers two new boilermakers in front of us.

"You'll blame her, won't you?" The Father asks without looking at me.

He never fucking looks at me.

I wipe the beer from my hand on my pants, "Why the fuck would I do that? Hell, why the fuck would she do that?"

"Well, she's part of Vae Victis and you're not exactly their favorite person, Robert."

A fly buzzes around the forty watt bulb above.

"Yeah, but that ain't no reason for her to brain John."

Second one down the hatch and I'm feeling human again. Or as close to it as I ever get.

"Hm, yes. I suppose you're right. There's also your stablemate's recent attack on her."

"That ain't got shit to do with me. You gonna drink that or what." I point in the general direction of his drink.

"By all means," The Father waves a hand.  "Right, well, remember Robert: you did set her on fire."

He's got me there.

"Well.. yeah. Aw, shit," I surrender. "I really don't want to blame RIA. She ain't done shit to me."

His hand is warm on my shoulder.

"When has that ever stopped you?"

A hard gulp.

This old fucker is slinging hornets today.

"I guess I don't have a choice, huh?"

"You cannot save your face and your ass at the same time, Robert."

"Yeah well I've made a career out of trying."

His laughter is hoarse and wet, like a nail stuck in a garbage disposal.

"You're almost there, Robert. Trust the process."

"Yeah, yeah."

The song finally stops.

Roz stands in front of me. Her rag squeaks inside the pint glass.

"Who are you talking to, hon?"

I look over to The Father, but he's gone.

The cigarette hanging from my lips crackles.

"Myself, I guess."

IV. Raging Bull

You could come to me by plane, but that wouldn't be the same As that old motel room in Texarkana was So I'll take two of what you're having and I'll take all of what you got To kill this goddamn lonely, goddamn lonely love

“You gotta keep your goddamn guard up.”

I pull him in a little too close for the bear hug.

I don't let him go until he wriggles free.

“I know.”

“You know nothing, Finn.” I push him away before he gets too close. “Don’t drop your head, boy.”

He pulls back his long hair as he catches his breath.

Does he see himself in me the way I do with him?

I sure fucking hope not.

By this point I've sweat most of the vodka out and this is a hell of a reprieve

Almost.

“You good, old man? You seem like you’re somewhere else today.”

I hope you never feel this hell, boy. 

He charges again with his goddamn head down. I wrap him up like you would a toddler, hands under his arms, and hip toss him.

I won't let him fail the same ways I have.

“Jesus, boy. You want me to bury you?”

He laughs and for a moment I forget I'm holding all these secrets.

I just want you to be better than me.

My voice cracks out, “Come on. Stop playing grab ass and show me this ain’t been a waste of my time.”

“You sure about that, old man?” He smiles at me. My son smiles at me and it fills me with anger.

I am seething red hatred.

I want you to fucking hurt me. What have I got to lose?

“Don’t hold back. Let it rip.”

He explodes at me, catching me off guard with a big right hook that staggers me back into the turnbuckle.

Yeah, that’s it, kid.

I let him connect a few shots.

Let him get some blood in his teeth before I side step and let him slam into the turnbuckle.

“You're phoning it in.”

“I’m not,” Finn protests, stepping from the corner.

“You are,” I push him back into the corner.

I know that red in his cheeks. They're getting hot from the embarrassment.

“And you’re hungover.”

Now my cheeks are hot.

“You’re soft.”

Finn shoots in low and I catch him in a headlock.

It ain't a chokehold, it's the only way I know to keep him close.

He breaks free and the ring is singing. He finally finds his groove and we're electric.

There ain't anybody in the gym, but if there were, they'd be losing their shit.

He finally wears me down. Any other day I'd keep whupping his ass, but I just ain't got it in me today.

"I need a water break," I call out and move to the ropes.

“How’s John?” He asks from across the room. Innocently.

What would this kid think if he knew I was the one that put John there?

That I was his fucking daddy.

“Alive,” I belt with enough ice to shut anyone down.

The kid is too young, too dumb, or maybe he feels too safe with me to realize he’s in danger.

“Those guys from ReVival last week. Are they the ones who did it?”

I know what I have to do. It's time to try on blaming RIA. Get comfortable with the lie before I broadcast it.

"No, it was," I almost choke on the words, "RIA."

It tastes like a mouthful of coins, but I have to do it, RIA.

You see I have never been so goddamn close to having it all.

Sure, I'm a miserable cunt. One of the worst. But for once, for one goddamn moment, I've got it all within my grasp.

The kid is here, the girl is here.

I'm sorry I hurt you, RIA. And I'm sorry that I can't stop myself from doing it again.

You are a sacrifice I am willing to make.

V. Father, The Sleeper Has Awoken

And I could find another dream One that keeps me warm and clean But I ain't dreamin' anymore, I'm waking up So I'll take two of what you're having and I'll take everything you got To kill this goddamn lonely, goddamn lonely love

Another press junket. Time to put on the sheep's mask.

"Are you ready?" The Father asks.

"No, of course not. But this is my cross to bear."

One last drag of the cigarette before I go out there in front of the lights.

"It was RIA Lockhart," I practice in the mirror, pointing my finger into the air when I say RIA's name. "It was the cowardly RIA Lockhart."

"What if you told them the truth?"

I know he's right and that at some point, I will have to.

But not today.

Today everything is as it should be and if that means RIA has to take the fall for right now, then I'm ok with that.

"It's showtime."

I've done a thousand walkouts in my life. Big shows, promotional events, you name it. They're all the same.

All of them but this one.

Right before we hit the doors, I hear a voice from behind that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

"Robbie, Robbie, Robbie. I told you that you cannot hide from the Lord, didn't I?"

Fuck.

Todd Haywood. He's wearing his Sunday grin and a funeral suit.

“You planning’ another sermon there, Brother Robbie?” he says. “I do love a man of the cloth, but I have to say all that linen and no pocket to keep his debts in.”

He's all of three feet and I'm holding a baseball bat and his henchmen are nowhere to be seen.

One swing and he's gone. What's another body?

I can't. Char and Finn.

Todd’s breath is wintergreen and New Testament. “Good news is, I ain’t here to embarrass you, Robbie.” He taps his chest twice, where a heart should be. “Bad news is, we ain’t postponin’ righteousness.”

He lifts his phone. The lock screen is a photo I pretend doesn’t exist. Charlotte, in the doorway of my rat-trap kitchen, laughing into a paper bag full of breakfast. Behind her, my table. Two coffees. Two greasy suns in wax paper. A third cup with a Sharpie heart and the word Penguin.

My throat shuts.

“Sweet girl,” Todd says. “Polite, too. She told me you were training. Bless her heart."

“I will skull-fuck your corpse,” I say. It comes out cracked.

“Relax.” He pockets the phone. “I ain’t touchin’ what ain’t mine. I like surety, Robbie.”

A beat.

“And I like my money by Colossus.”

On the other side of the doors, the room swells. The cameras are ready, the chairs are all set, and the microphone table is perfectly prepped.

They're all waiting.

The Father finally speaks, voice low as the hum. Well, Robert?

I square my shoulders. The sermon is already in my mouth. I can feel the lie heat my tongue.

Todd leans in, gentle as a pastor over a hospital bed. “You go on out there,” he whispers. “Point that finger. Name your witch. I'll be here when you get done.”

He steps aside and suddenly I’m alone in the frame again. Just me and the doors and the life on the other side.

Tell the truth.

I push the bar. Light hits me like a blast furnace. The press room exhales. Microphones lunge. Flash pops.

I take the podium. I set Judgement down, softly, like a child I don’t deserve.

“Good afternoon,” I say, and taste copper. “Thank you all for your attention to my friend John.”

A murmur grows through the crowd.

“I owe you an apology,” I continue. “I’ve made accusations that were unfounded. Today, I am ready to share the truth with you all.”

Say it, Robert. Unburden yourself from the weight of all these lies.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

What have I got to lose?

“It was RIA Lockhart.”

The room erupts. Hands fly up. Someone shouts a question I’ll never answer.

I step back from the mic and smile the way saints do in cheap paintings.

And I walk off the stage toward the debt waiting in the hall.

Not today.

When I hit the corridor, Todd is gone. The deed is done. I will live to fight another day.

It's just me and The Father now.

"You know you can't keep running forever, right?" He asks me bluntly.

"I know, man. I know. And I'm almost there. I will get honest and make everything right, I swear. But I just want to pretend a little bit longer, you know? Savor it all for just a bit."

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Charlotte.

"Hey babe. I'm on my way back."

"John is awake."