Chapter 18

STEVE STEPPED OUT OF THE SHOWER, toweling off his nude form. He reached past his rippling abs and picked inside his belly button to check for lint, then stepped in front of the mirror. Sighing at the sight of his ridiculous streaked hair, he brushed it out and back.

Eschewing clothing himself for the time being, he went into their living room and sat down in front of the computer there. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head while he waited for the browser to connect to the net, stretching out a hundred tiny aches in his back. Being a professional athlete meant living with a certain amount of pain, and he thought about taking something stronger than the ibuprofen he had swallowed upon waking. He dismissed the notion, opening up his e-mail account and checking the in box.

Sweat stood out on his body as he saw that there was a letter from the AJSP federation. His fingers shook as he opened up the e-mail and read its content.

Dear Mr. Borgia,

We here at the All Japan Super Pro corporation would like to thank you for your interest in performing even though the WWL has declined to enter a working relationship with us. Our director of international talent relations has seen your recent work, and thinks that you could be an asset when drawing sales at the ticket center. As an attachment you will find our standard freelancer, single appearance contract. Signing this contract does not obligate you to work for our company for more than a single appearance, and your compensation will be based upon three factors.

1. The take in from the gate and Internet sales.

2. Your overall performance in the match.

3. The type of match you are involved in.

Please send a signed electronic form of this document to the above address, if you find it satisfactory. Again, we thank you for your interest, and have a pleasant day.

Samuel Ashikaga

AJSP Vice President of Operations

Steve’s heart raced in his chest. They wanted him! One of the oldest, most prestigious wrestling feds in Japan, and they wanted him to work for them.

New sweat broke out on his body. They were going to be expecting a lot from him. His cardio conditioning had better not be wanting. Taking down his bike from the wall, he almost walked outside with it before he realized that he had yet to put on any clothing.

“Damn,” he said, laughing at himself.

Tran stabbed his fork into the mound of hash browns on his plate, swirled the greasy mass around to mop up every last bit of red ketchup that he could, and lifted the fork toward his mouth.

“Daddy,” Crawley said, sitting across the table from him, “that’s disgusting.”

He looked up at her, eyes narrowing as he chewed heartily.

“I love ketchup on my hash browns.”

“It looks like bloody brains.”

“Ellie!” her mother said, smacking her on the hand, “we’re in public!”

“Sorry, Mom.” Crawley turned her attention back to her food.

They were seated at a booth of a Denny’s a stone’s throw from their home in Queens. It was not terribly crowded at that hour, the sun only recently having poked its cheery face over the horizon. The three of them were dressed nicely, prepared to meet with potential clients for their arachnid lab. Crawley was wearing a tan skirt suit that came low on her calves. Slight slits showed a bit of her shapely, hose clad legs. Her blazer was buttoned under her bust, and Tran had repeatedly commented on the slight amount of cleavage sending the wrong message to their prospective clients.

“I think your friend is here, honey,” her mother said, craning her neck to see out the glass double doors.

Crawley’s head perked up, and she grinned when she saw Autumn coming up the concrete ramp. A memory of her vivid dream the other night came to mind, and her heart skipped a beat even as her cheeks burned.

“Not her again,” her father said, rolling his eyes. “At least she’s dressed decent today. She’s not showing off her bosom.”

“Daddy,” Crawley said with a sigh. “I think Autumn is very pretty no matter what she wears.”

“Be nice, Tran,” her mother said. “Only God can judge.”

Tran grumbled a bit but went back to his hash browns.

“Don’t know why you invited her anyway.”

“Autumn’s my friend, daddy. Please don’t embarrass me, please!”

“I’m not gonna say nothing,” Tran said, looking a bit abashed.

Autumn stepped into the restaurant, spotted the trio and strode toward them.

“Hello, Crawley,” she said, then nodded to her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Crawley.”

“How come she calls you by your last name? Isn’t that a little weird?”

“Daddy…”

“Uh,” Autumn said, “that’s what everyone else calls her, so I—”

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Crawley’s mother said. “Ellie has always hated her first name.”

“No way,” Autumn said, sliding into the booth next to Crawley. “At least you’re not named after a season.”

“I think Autumn is a lovely name,” Mrs. Crawley said.

“Autumn totally plays,” Crawley said, nodding her head. Autumn’s hip pressed against her own, causing her to recall her vivid dream a few nights ago.

Autumn leaned forward, pressing her lips against Crawley’s. Soon her feeble resistance melted away, and she was enthusiastically returning the kiss. Their hands slid all over each other’s smooth skin, and Crawley felt her heartbeat pounding in her chest—

“Are you all right?” Her father’s brow was knit, concern evident in his voice. “You look a little peaked.”

“I’m fine, daddy,” Crawley said, trying to will her body to stop reacting. It was difficult, as even Autumn’s perfume seemed to be quite stimulating. All thoughts of Phil and their problems drifted away for the moment as the dark haired woman filled her senses.

“You do look a little off, honey,” Autumn said, putting a hand on her forehead. “You don’t have a fever, do you?”

“I’m fine,” Crawley said, wishing for a miracle to get her out of the embarrassing situation.

“Tran,” Mrs. Crawley said, looking askance at her husband as his phone rang, “I told you to turn that off.”

“It could be important,” he said stiffly, sliding out of the booth and heading outside before answering the device.

“Dad’s all business,” Crawley said, grateful for a different subject.

“Yeah,” Autumn said, “your text said you guys were going to score some big job today.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a big job,” Mrs. Crawley said. “We were just going to do some cross breeding diagnostics for a medical research firm.”

“Cross breeding?” Autumn said. “If you get a radioactive spider, I’ll totally let that shit bite me!”

Mrs. Crawley coughed a bit, nearly choking on her food. Crawley nearly choked as well, but due to the laughter rolling out of her belly.

“Warn somebody,” she said, squinting at the pain of orange juice shooting out from her nose.

“Bad news,” Tran said, hustling up to the table. “The client wants to meet ten minutes ago and we can’t finish breakfast.”

“Tran,” Mrs. Crawley said, “Ellie has barely had time to eat a bite, and she’s not feeling well.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Crawley said, growling.

“Well,” Tran said, his eyes growing crafty, “Ellie doesn’t have to go with us. She can stay here and eat with her friend.”

“How’s she going to get home?” Mrs. Crawley said.

“I can drive her,” Autumn said.

“You have a car?”

“Uh, yeah,” Autumn said, her eyes narrowing. “Does that surprise you?”

“Autumn,” Crawley said, gritting her teeth.

“Frankly, yes,” Tran said.

“Tran!” Her mother grabbed the little man by the elbow and pulled him toward the door. “I can’t believe you! What is the meaning of…”

Their voices were cut off by the door slamming shut. Autumn shook her head, slithered out of the booth and sat opposite Crawley.

“Man, your dad is something else,” Autumn said.

“He means well, but he has his prejudices.”

“We should totally get your dad to hang out with mine, you know, not tell them about my dad being gay at first, see how long it takes for it to come out.”

Crawley giggled.

“That’s mean!” She took another drink of orange juice. “So, I hear you’re getting your own art show?”

“Not my own, no, but I get to be part of an exhibit. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

“It gets your foot in the door. That has to count for something.”

Autumn nodded, then turned and smiled at the waitress. She ordered cinnamon toast with over easy eggs and sausage, eschewing sugar or cream for her coffee.

“You drink it black?” Crawley said, amazed at the sight of Autumn sipping the hot, dark liquid.

“Milk is for pussies,” Autumn said in a low growl.

“I don’t know how you can stand drinking black coffee.”

Autumn shrugged, then her eyes grew tense. Crawley knew she was going to say something about her and Phil.

“How’s things going with you and Phil?”

Crawley cast her eyes downward, picking at her food with her fork.

“He called me the other night, and we talked a little bit. He wants another chance.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“The truth. I don’t know, I have to think about it.”

“I wouldn’t take him back, not after what he did.”

“He says it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Autumn put her hand over Crawley’s and patted it gently.

“Honey, that’s literally what they all say.”

“So, if Steve wrecked his car because another woman was giving him a hand job, you’d be done with him.”

“Well, that—” Autumn said, her face scrunched up in thought. “Steve would never—I mean, that would…depend…”

“Ha,” Crawley said, grinning, “it’s not that easy, is it?”

“It would depend on whether or not I’m in the car too, watching.”

Crawley spat out a stream of coffee. Autumn giggled, gleefully watching her mop it up with a napkin.

“Well, I’m going to have to trust Steve, since he’s going out of the country without me in two weeks.”

“Where?”

“Japan. The WWL was supposed to be going there and doing a show, but it fell through, and now Steve’s trying to work out his own deal. Supposed to be good money.”

“Why aren’t you going? I watch you guys on TV, aren’t you part of his act or whatever?”

“My Dad and Brad are coming into town that weekend. I’m going to be busy with them.”

“That’s so sweet. I mean, your dad and Brad, that they’ve found someone to be happy with.”

“That’s a very enlightened attitude for a good Catholic girl,” Autumn said.

“Well, I try to go by what Jesus said, and he said love your neighbor. He never said only love them if they’re not gay.”

“Man, if more Christians were like you I might think about going to church.”

“It’s never too late to accept your Savior.”

“Sorry, but I’m gonna need to see some proof. Just how I am.”

“Faith is about belief without proof.”

“That’s also what being insane is about.”

“I guess you can see it that way.” Crawley had been expecting the response, but she still felt that she had to try.

“This is nice,” Autumn said, “just hanging out in a café. Without my Candy Pain getup on, no one’s going to recognize me…I hope. Should be peaceful.”

“Your outfits on the shows…” Crawley said, sucking in a deep breath.

“I know, they’re pretty slutty, but a lot of the guys wear less than I do.”

“No, I mean, you look really sexy. I wish I could pull that off.”

“Crawley, you’re hot as hell. You could wear used butcher’s paper and look good.”

Crawley looked down at her chest.

“My boobs are small.”

“They’re not small. More than a handful is a waste, you know! Hell, I’d play with them.”

Crawley nearly spat out her drink again. She looked up at Autumn, sputtering.

“Oh my god, your face!” Autumn said, fumbling for her phone. “It’s priceless, you should see it…”

Autumn’s voice trailed off as Crawley looked a bit forlorn.

“Oh, so, you were joking…”

“Uh,” Autumn said.

“Ha!” Crawley said, looking up with a grin. “How do you like it?”

They both snickered, but Autumn stopped first. Crawley took note of the haunted look in her eyes.

“You and Steve work everything out all right?”

Autumn heaved a heavy sigh, and it was her turn to poke at her food.

“He doesn’t trust me,” she said, offering Crawley a weak smile.

“Doesn’t trust you? I know he’s jealous, but—”

“It’s more than just that. I mean, it’s kind of flattering that Steve’s so jealous, but he takes it too damn far. When I say he doesn’t trust me, I mean he doesn’t believe that I’m going to stick around this time.”

“No way.” Crawley couldn’t bear the thought of Autumn and Steve breaking up, especially not after she had been so instrumental in their reunion.

“Yes way. I can see it in his eyes, like he’s thinking ‘yeah, you say you’re not running out again, but…’”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do? What the fuck can I do? It’s my fault. I broke him, and now he can’t trust me.”

“You didn’t break him.” Crawley took Autumn’s hands in her own, squeezed them tight. They looked strange together, the inked and the pristine. “You and Steve can work this out. I know you can.”

“You really think so?” Autumn was trying to play it cool, but there was a tiny bit of hope at Crawley’s validation.

“I know so.”

Autumn scratched at the flower decal on her mug, flaking away bits of it with her nail. Her eyes were pointed at the tabletop, but they seemed focused far away.

“What’s wrong?” Crawley asked.

“It’s nothing.” Autumn laughed without mirth, raised her tired eyes to meet Crawley’s. “Okay, it’s not nothing. I’m scared that even if Steve and I do get past all his resentment that he’ll get hurt in the ring.”

“Steve’s a tough guy, and trained—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but tough, trained guys get hurt all the time!” Autumn’s hands shook as she held her mug to her lips. “I’ve been seeing this shit on the web, former wrestlers who took a bad spill and now they’re in a wheel chair! What if that happens to Steve? Or worse, what if he dies? If he does, it’ll be my fault because I left him and he lost his job and…”

“Hey, hey!” Crawley clasped her hand atop Autumn’s decorated one as the woman fought back tears. “It’s all right. Try to think of all the wrestlers who don’t have things like that happen to them.”

She closed her eyes, sent a quick prayer asking that Steve be protected. Her eyes snapped open when Autumn squeezed her fingers.

“Thanks,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “I mean, I’m an atheist, but…it means a lot that you’d do that.”

Crawley smiled and sipped her drink, glad for Autumn’s company.