The Two Interviews

📸@satanjones is live June 15, 10:22AM

“Welcome, my little devils! You are LIVE! WITH! SATAN!”

Satan Jones appears to his fans once again in Gray’s Wrestling Academy, a change of scenery from the past few weeks. He had streamed from different spots on the road, grocery stores, and his bathroom for one awkward Dr. Squatch sponsorship video. He doesn’t leave the elephant unaddressed.

“As you can see, we’re back at Gray’s, the home base for your very favorite tag team. It's been a minute because we haven’t wrestled in what feels like months. In fact, I feel…”

Satan suddenly shakes his head on screen and dozens of scraps fall from behind his head to the floor. He looks at them in mock horror. “Oh, God, look at all the ring rust! It’s caked onto me! We’re in so much trouble!”

Satan checks the phone to see if anyone is reacting with the cry laughing emojis, and smiles when he sees that they are.

“Hell yeah, dudes. Hell yeah. I was just kidding, those were pencil shavings. Dith sharpens pencils all day, no idea why. But ring rust be damned, because we’ve got a lot of work to do! Kris and I need to hit the gym, hit the ring, and get back on the same page. Because we got two angry British guys knocking down our door, and one of them is like nine feet tall!”

Satan holds his hand high above his head for emphasis.

“They took us out at the last show, so this is personal. So in Philadelphia, Kris and I are going to shake off the ring rust and show those dudes what happens when you blindside us. And then I’m going to get a one-on-one with their brother -- a match, not an interview -- and beat him too. Any questions, my little devils?”

This is likely rhetorical, but all the same Satan’s eyebrows furrow as he reads the screen. A lot of messages scroll by quickly, but one in particular makes Satan’s well-curated personality drop for a moment.

Why aren’t you and Kris on the same page?

“Uh…” Satan murmurs, deciding on how to address this question. He chooses to ignore it. “Yeah! Be sure to tune in at Ultraviolence, and be sure to tune in now as Kris and I get our workouts in!”

Suddenly the door behind Satan opens and Kris Roswell enters. He looks at the phone in Satan’s hand. Unlike Satan, who employs a full-time fake smile when the cameras are running, Kris has no pretense. He scowls at the camera.

“My man!” Satan yells, walking over so he can get Kris in the shot, fully unaware of his partner’s reticence. “I was just telling our fans that we’re getting ready to prepare for this big match! What are we doing first: sparring, weight room?”

“Neither,” Kris mutters, and his space in the doorway is occupied by two women. One of them is reserved, shy, almost mousy; the other is nothing like that.

“Krissy is right, my devilishly handsome young man,” Savannah Scandal answers as her assistant, Mindy, scurries in after her. “He’s busy, and so are you.”

“What do you mean?” Satan asks, moving the phone to fully capture Savannah.

“Foster scheduled me for an interview with her,” Kris says, his eyes on the floor. “Says it’s mandatory.”

“And since we’ll be busy getting down and dirty in the conference room,” Savannah says with a smile, “Mindy needs someone to look after her to make sure she doesn’t break anything. So finish up your little live stream and put on some clothes.” She winks at him. “Or don’t. Maybe she likes it better this way.”

“Stop,” says Mindy, though the word is so low it could’ve been a sigh.

“Let’s go, Krissy,” Savannah says, passing him and walking down the hall. Kris spares another unfiltered look at Satan and his phone, then follows her.

A painfully long pause rises between Satan and his new charge. “Welp,” Satan says, bringing back his smile, “guess I’m putting in that work later. Oh, and one last thing, my little devils.” Satan frowns for just a moment before recovering. “I misspoke earlier. Kris and I are super duper on the same page. Those Brits stand no chance! Later!”

_______

June 15

It had been two months since I blacked out and tried to kill my brother in a wrestling ring. Since I was thrown out of the ring, since I sat under a shower in my ring gear. Since Foster visited me in the locker room and told me two very important things that have filled the last two months with dread.

April 6 The First Important Thing That Filled me With Dread

The first was that day, as I sat under the shower. My eyes were closed as the water dropped off of my hair onto my shoulders. It was cold, presumably because whoever threw me in there decided I needed to “cool down.” But I didn’t feel hot, or the emotional equivalent of hot. I didn’t feel angry.

I felt nothing. Nothing but the water.

Eventually Foster came in however many hours later. I hadn’t moved, and my shoulders were starting to feel numb under the deluge of icewater. I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me like I used to look at cockroaches that had invaded my home.

“A few years ago I used to have a student who did things like the shit you just pulled,” he said. I knew who he meant, even though I was never here for Paxton Ray. Paxton is the kind of guy who leaves a legacy, good or bad. I honestly felt a little flattered by the comparison, even if he didn’t intend it that way. “I was in a tough spot with him. He caused so much chaos, but he also won the Intense title. He had the backing of a powerful entity. I couldn’t do anything except ball my fists and curse my luck.

“But you,” he said, bending down and reaching out for my face. I let him take it. “You’re nothing but an NFL dropout who needs fucking therapy. You don’t have the power of Julian Bathory. You have Satan Jones and a contract in PRIME that could be cut at any moment. Hell, you could lose to Dawkins and Tsonda next week and be out of the rotation until they finally fire you.”

I didn’t answer. Foster was echoing my internal monologue. I often wondered how long this would last, especially after Hercules came to Gray’s. He said his goal was to drive me out of this place, and if I kept falling for his bait, he would probably succeed.

“And I told myself after the whole Paxton bullshit that I was done letting inmates run the asylum. This is my fucking gym, and I’m going to keep it that way.” He pushed my head back, and though my instincts told me to leap up and kick him until that stupid helmet flew off his head, I didn’t move. “You’re suspended. I’ll let you know when you can come by again. And since you did this in front of the slimiest reporter in the world, we’re going to have to find a way for her to not report this. Can’t have anybody knowing a student attempted fratricide under my watch.”

If only it weren’t attempted, I thought to myself, but again I didn’t answer. Foster stood up and walked to the locker room exit, then turned in the doorway. “Oh, and when you’re on TV for the next few weeks…lay low. Let Satan steer the Foot Soldiers bus. People seem to like him more than you, anyway.”

And that was the thing that filled me with dread. Not getting suspended. Not nearly murdering my brother. Not thinking about what happened to my other brother. No, I was upset because I had to play the straight man to Satan’s comedy act. But I listened, and spent the next month or so smiling and wrestling in that particular order. And in time that caused a rift between Satan and I that we might not come back from. But we’ll get to that later.

May 25 The Second Important Thing That Filled Me With Dread

I didn’t hear from Foster again until Memorial Day. Satan and I had Quinn and some of the guys over to hang out, and I was manning the grill when I got a phone call.

“Hey Roswell, kick anyone to death recently?” Foster asked before I could speak. “Eh, I’m just fucking with you. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about lifting your suspension at Gray’s.”

Even as Foster’s voice filled me with rage, I couldn’t tamp down my excitement at the prospect of going back to the gym. It had become the center of my world since I started work there last year. Even with Foster and Hercules making my life hell, I had Satan, and Roosevelt, and even Quinn’s dumb ass to help make things better. “Sounds great,” I said, unable to feign nonchalance. “So I can come back tomorrow?”

“No, I’m not ready to let you in quite yet. But I wanted to tell you that I talked with Savannah. As you probably already could tell from the lack of rumors about it, she agreed to not talk about your little episode.”

“Well that’s good–”

“...because I agreed to let her interview you at Gray’s next month.”

I nearly dropped the phone. “What?!”

“Oh, come off it. She’s harmless. Well, not really. She can break your entire wrestling career with a few fingerstrokes. But let’s be honest, you sort of deserve it. I’ll ask her not to go too deep into whatever weird family shit you’ve got.”

“I don’t–”

Foster’s laugh interrupted me. “Of course you have weird family shit, you’re a professional wrestler. No well adjusted person gets into professional wrestling. I hated my dad, and my mom, and I still hate my brother. So listen, three weeks from today you can come in, avoid some questions and sexual harassment from Savannah, and then you’ll be back full time. Cool?”

“Sure,” I said, defeated, and hung up the phone. Only then did I smell the charred meat. “Fuck,” I said, scooping out five hard puck-like hamburgers onto the plate.

“Yes! Hard and crunchy, my favorite!” Satan walked up and grabbed a burger with his hand and started munching on it like a cookie.

June 15

So here I was, three weeks later, ready to talk to one of the worst women in the world about my life, one of my least favorite subjects in the world. But at least I was back in a place where several people hated me.

Yay.

_______

📸@satanjones is live June 15, 10:54AM

“Welcome back, my little devils!” Satan doesn’t believe in doing the big intro twice in one day. He’s got to maintain his breath. “We’re back again, and even though you guys don’t get to see Satan and Kris get all hot and sweaty working out, you get to see the next best thing: a Live With Satan interview!”

Mindy, the shy assistant of Savannah Scandal, blushes and looks at her shoes as Satan pulls a sign from behind the bench. The sign literally says “LIVE WITH SATAN INTERVEW.”

“We got props!” he shouts.

“I think you spelled interview wrong,” Mindy says with unexpected confidence before re-assuming her inward demeanor.

“Oh, Dith made the sign,” Satan lies. “So, Mindy, this isn’t our first time together like this. A few months ago we actually had a double date at Quinn Fleetwood’s house. So my first question is how does it feel to be dating the devil?”

“We’re not dating,” Mindy murmurs, but she can’t hide the small smile on her face. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and fidgets with her glasses. “But you’re sweet.”

“Sweet? I’m a devil! The scourge of the internet! The Terror of TikTok! The–”

“The guy who sent me a text after that dinner date making sure I got home okay?” she asks.

Now it’s Satan’s turn to blush. “It’s just what you’re supposed to do, is all.” After a moment Satan regains his composure and slaps on that big fake smile again. “My second question. What’s your last name?” Mindy’s eyes go wide for a moment, which causes Satan to stammer. “I guess that should’ve been the first question, right? Or maybe a question, uh, not on a livestream.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says, the smile returning. “Lawson. Mindy Lawson.”

“Cool, cool. So, Mindy Lawson, what’s it like being Savannah Scandal’s assistant?”

For the first time since he turned on the camera, Mindy appears very aware of the fact that thousands of strangers are watching her. She shifts in her seat and adjusts her glasses again, then shrugs. “She’s okay.”

“Okay? Come on, don’t worry about the audience. No one will be surprised to hear you say that she sucks. I bet she’ll want you to anyway. She has a reputation for sucking.”

Mindy looks directly at the camera – so much for not worrying about the audience – and sighs. “Fine. She’s demanding. She’s mean. And I'm worried that she’s about to obliterate your friend behind those doors.”

Satan swipes a hand dismissively. “Oh, nah, not Kris. That guy is a steel trap. He took media courses at college just in case he ever made the pros. He doesn’t let anything slip. She’s gonna pry into his family life and I promise you, she’s gonna get nothin’.”

“Well that’s good,” Mindy says, leaning back against the wall. Her shoulders brush against Satan’s. “That’s how it should be, right? Like the stuff about his brother that made him go crazy on Hercules. You should only tell that stuff to people you’re closest with.”

Satan looks down the hallway suddenly, then down at his feet. “Yeah, exactly. It’s good he tells me that kind of stuff.” After a few seconds, he looks up at his phone. “Uhhhh…ANYWAY! I’m gonna keep talking to this cool woman here and maybe later we’ll pop into the kitchen and do a cooking show themed around my opponents. How good are you at making fisheads and gruel?"

"I--what?"

"Bye, my little devils!”

_______

June 15 The Interview

The interview could’ve gone worse. I had been so nervous about what she was going to ask, what she already knew about. If she had any details about my brothers, or anything else back home in Pittsburgh, I’d be in trouble. But if she was just poking and prodding, I could avoid it well enough.

For the most part it was the latter. And a bit of pouring salt in the wound about Satan. But we’ll get to that later.

She actually started with our super show match, which made me surprised and grateful. I didn't know she even cared about the actual wrestling. Easy territory to navigate.

SS: So you’ve got a big match to open up Night 1 of Ultraviolence against The Albion, two hunky British men with a penchant for abwork and violence. How do you think you’ll fare?

KR: I think we’ll do well. Satan and I have been working very hard to take our teamwork to the next level. It’ll be hard to match up in that respect with literal brothers who have been together their whole life, but I think the work we’ve put in since coming to PRIME proves that we are one of the elite tag teams here. We worked together to beat the current #1 contender to the Tag Team Titles. We took down two PRIME legends in Tsonda and Dawkins. And that sort of experience will help us a lot when we meet up with Stellan and Solomon.

I expected her to use this as a segue into my family life, and I wasn’t disappointed. I mean, yes, I was disappointed, but I wasn’t surprised, at least.

SS: The Albion are three hunky brothers – did I already say hunky brothers?

KR: You did.

SS: Who appear to be on the same page on why they’re in PRIME, what their goal is. So why can't you get along with your brother, Hercules Roswell? Is it jealousy? Do you wish your body was as big and muscular? Is that what’s stopping you from getting along with him?

KR: No, gross, and no. Hercules and I have a history. One I’d rather not get into. It’s private.

SS: Oh honey, private is just a code word for a secret that hasn’t leaked yet. You can tell me. 

KR: I can, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that Herc and I aren’t always on the same page, but we’re still brothers, and we always will be.

SS: Fair enough. Speaking of the same page, Satan Jones and you–

KR: Are on the same page, yes.

SS: That’s what you say, but I wanted to ask about the Foot Soldiers trajectory over the last few months. You were the initial star, I’d say. The one advertised, the NFL product, the one with the name recognition. But in the two months since your last match, there has been a shift, hasn’t there? Satan’s the one with the show. The endorsements. The t-shirt in 35 sizes.

KR: Thirty-eight, he’d want me to say.

SS: Thirty-eight, excuse me. So my question is how does it feel to be eclipsed by your tag team partner who came in with devil horns and a shoe fetish?

KR: I don’t care.

SS: At all?

KR: At all. He’s my partner. We're in this together. There are no issues between us.

This was only partly the truth, but we’ll get to that later.

The rest of the interview went that way, with her throwing me leading questions and me side-stepping them. As we neared the end, she asked the question I was most prepared for, had been since I destroyed Hercules in April.

SS: So tell me about your other brother.

KR: Which one? I have four.

SS: Herbert. 

She didn’t go further, because to explain why it was significant would’ve told the world about what I did, which she explicitly promised not to do. And this gave me a chance to give her a bit of what she wanted, but to tell it my way.

KR: You probably knew that all of my brothers followed in my dad’s footsteps of playing football at Duquesne and trying to make the league. Herbert is the 4th of us, I’m his only little brother. And he walked on as a freshman, but…well, he got hurt. He can’t really walk very well anymore. So he never played a game for them. 

SS: Did Paxton Ray paralyze him too?

KR: No, he’s not paralyzed. He’s just…it was an accident. But he’s got a great life. He’s married, he works with my dad, and we keep up often. And that’s Herbert.

I could tell that she wanted more, but she knew better than to push. She wrapped up the interview, told me she’d be watching me, and let me go. Crisis averted.

Savannah and Mindy left, Foster gave me the green light to return, and I bound into the weight room with an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was back to basics. Working out, getting ready for the Cross brothers, and making sure that Satan and I were ready.

As I started some reps on the bench press, Satan appeared in the doorway. He had just walked Mindy out – I guess they had something going on. I looked up at him and smiled, ready to tease him about his new love interest, when I saw his frown.

“What happened with Herbert, Kris?” Satan asked me. "Why did his name make you go nuts?"

I said we’d get to that later, and I guess later was now.

I didn’t want to tell him anything. I didn’t want to tell anyone. My entire journey to leave my family behind meant that I couldn’t talk about what happened. Plus I didn’t want my closest friend in New Orleans to hate me after I told him the truth. But Satan was my tag team partner. Our success in PRIME depended on trust and openness. I might have been on the outs with my family, but if I played this right, Satan could be my true brother, my ally against everything the world threw at me, in and out of the ring.

So I told him.

“I just told Savannah about Herbert’s accident. The reason he never played football. The reason he uses a walker to this day. But I didn’t tell her what really happened.”

Satan stared at me. No interview techniques, no goading, just a simple stare until I finally uttered the words that had been gnawing inside of me since Hercules mentioned his name two months ago.

“I did it. He’s hurt because of me.”