Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2015 4:01:52 GMT -6
An empty hotel room, solace to some, but to me it was nothing more than a place to lay my head. I felt bad staying in a hotel room mere blocks from my house, but I needed to be away from distractions. Sarah understood this, and Haylee, well, she wasn’t excited about not seeing daddy. It was going to be tough, but the biggest fight of my life was about to happen, and I couldn’t risk losing because of a lack of focus.
There I sat, an uncomfortable chair, in a dimly lit hotel room. Watching some dumb late night TV show, and waiting for the gym to open up. I should be sleeping, but I was anxious. The anxiety of the upcoming week of festivities. I had to be down in Arizona no later than Monday. I had promotional work to do. Davey was meeting me down there. He had already left to get preparations ready. Getting the room, getting my dietitian ready with my meal plan, setting up training times. He was so damn focused on me winning this title, I only wish he had been this focused on his own career.
My mind wandered a little, reflecting on the career of Davey Dynamo. Once heralded as the future of professional wrestling. Accolades beyond compare. One of the most decorated wrestlers in TEW. Things soured after the disappearance of Scott Sloan and the death of his wife. Davey went on a path of self destruction, and never recaptured the spark. I wish to hell he had just found his light, that inner fire that he now has for me to succeed.
I run my hand over the end table next to the chair. The wood grain had been raised due to fluid spills, more than likely mostly of the human kind. I quickly snatched my hand back. I opened the top drawer, as I do in all hotel rooms, to see if they too subscribed to the tradition of putting a bible in there. As predictable as a prostitute having an abortion, there, staring at me, was a black bible. I tried to shut the drawer, but something drew me to fold it open. I was compelled to study this book that my opponent had swore his life to.
I flip through, and find the book of Matt. I begin reading, the dry, droning tone wearing me out, which I had hoped would maybe put me to sleep, but then, I stumbled upon the sixth chapter of Matt. Verse five,
“And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may beseen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.”
I read this verse over and over again, not able to look away. “...You must not be like the hypocrites…”
I stared at these words, transfixed on the meaning, I could feel my head throbbing, a man, so devoted to this book, so freely breaks its laws stated therein by Christ himself. “...that they may beseen by others.”
My trance was broken by the obnoxiously loud ringing of the phone on the nightstand. I reach over and grab it.
“Yes?” I answer, slightly annoyed at the inconvenience.
“Sir, it is your 7am wake up call. The gym and spa are now open.” The receptionists voice on the other end calmly and politely states.
“Thank you.” I felt a little better, knowing they were just doing as I had asked. I couldn’t believe it was already 7am. I throw on my shorts and sneakers, and head down towards the gym. I slide my key card into the slot to open the door, and the light instantly blinks red.
“OH for fuck sake, I hate these damn things.” I try it again and again at varying speeds, and get the same result. I grasp the door handle with both hands and yank as hard as I can, at this point pouring out profanities at the door.
A woman comes walking over in tight yoga pants, and a sports bra, a towel around her neck. She sees my plight, and looks down, grabs my key and turns it around.
“Now try,” she states, smirking at me. I slide my key in, and pull out. Instantly the light turns green.
“You just have to put it in the right way,” She smirks, clearly pleased with her double entendre. She walks in, and I quickly follow, face glowing as red as the light on the door.
“You don’t mind if I work out with you, do ya?” She asks, sitting on the stationary bike, already punching in her settings.
“Well, I don’t own the place, so be my guest.”
The woman begins pedaling at a pretty high speed, earbuds in her ears as she chugged along at a heavy pace. I fire up the trusty treadmill, hop on, and begin running. I warm myself up for five minutes, running at a soft pace, before firing up the big guns, and running hard. I do 3 minutes of sprint, 2 minutes of walk, 4 minutes of sprint, 1 minute walk, alternating for 30 minutes. By the time I’m done, the woman is just looking at me. I look down, and realize my muscles are glistening from the sweat dripping down them.
“Like what you see?” I ask, smirking.
“No.” She responds, matter of factly.
I look at her puzzled, and she can tell my thought instantly.
“The wedding ring. It’s a damn shame.” She nods at my left finger.
I look down at the ring, and smile, “Yeah, sometimes it’s a burden, but I guess it’s a pretty good thing.”
“Speak for yourself. This glistening hunk of meat dangling in front of me like I’m a starving dog, and I can’t even have a lick.”
I instantly feel myself turn red again. I nod at her, and quickly make my way out of the gym before she makes me question my vows any further. She was amazingly put together. I love Sarah, but she has let herself slip since having Haylee. How a tight body like that would be fun, but I can’t. Not now, not ever. Only Sarah.
I slam my door hard, and flop down on the bed before grabbing my laptop. I open up the web browser, and pull up a sexy video. I needed to unload so I didn’t do something stupid. I start to control myself when suddenly my skype call pops up, and the picture of my wife and daughter appear on the screen. Instant boner killer. I ignore the call, knowing I am in no spot to be talking to them right now.
I walk to the bathroom, and fire up a cold shower. I hop in, letting that ice cold water flow over my body, trying to wash away the filthy thoughts I had for the gym lady. The longer I sat there though, the warmer the water got, which was accomplishing exactly the opposite of what I had set out to do. I start turning the poorly marked handle, and instantly a giant eruption of molten hot water pours out of the shower head like a brick of sheer pain. I quickly fling the handle the other way, and get hit with an equally piercing cold stream. I try to turn again, and again am met with the flames of hell biting every inch of my back and neck.
Finally I give up, and jump out. I’m sure that comedy of errors in the shower was enough to kill my feelings. I run to the computer, and call Sarah back. She answers, and Haylee is sitting on her lap holding her favorite stuffed elephant.
“Hi daddy,” She yells, waving, and clutching that stuffed elephant like it’s trying to escape.
“Hi baby girl, how are you?” I ask, blowing her kisses.
“Good daddy, we miss you.” She says, causing my heart to sink a little.
“I miss you too baby doll. I’ll be home in about a week, I promise.”
“Ok daddy. I love you.”
“I love you too kiddo. Love you mommy.”
“Love you too dear, kick Father Nathan’s ass.”
“I’ll try babe.”
“YEAH KICK HIS ASS,” Haylee repeats. Sarah and I instantly cover our mouths.
“Haylee June, we don’t say that word. Mommy was naughty for using a naughty word. Ok baby?” I scold through the computer.
“Yes daddy, I’m sorry. Bad mommy.” Sarah and I both chuckle at her scolding her mom.
I close down my computer and lie down on the bed. No sooner than my head hit the pillow than I start drifting off, and quickly fall asleep.
My mind was racing with dreams. Vivid, colorful. Dreams of me holding the NEW world title. That purple strap draped over my shoulder. The gold shining like the sun in the sky, each beam of light that hit dispersing in a different direction. The eruption of cheers from the crowd as I stood in the middle of the ring, Father Nathan buried, deep in the ground. My music pulses through the streets of Courtland Arizona like the anthem of the best year of my life. Then things turn a hazy shade of red, my music drowned by an ominous droning sound, and all I see is darkness. No title, no fans, nothing, just blackness, and a steady beep, ringing through my ears.
I quickly snap up out of bed and shake the cobwebs. I grab a protein drink out of the mini fridge and drink it down, throw all my stuff in my suitcase, and exit the room, leaving the keys on the nightstand.
As I walk out I hear a catcall, and look over my shoulder. The woman from the gym was walking down the steps in a very short pencil business skirt and tight white blouse which all accented her curves perfectly. I nod, acknowledging I heard her, and exit the hotel, climbing into the first cab in line.
“International Airport please, Terminal 1, Delta Airlines,” I instruct the driver, who nods in agreement, and begins shuffling off.
The driver weaves effortlessly through the heavy 494 traffic. Rush hour is always a bitch on this road, but these drivers know their way quite well. He weaves in and out like a dog in one of those agility courses. The thought made me chuckle, trying to watch Sarah train our dog, Sparky, to do that. He is a dumb thing, he would stop and pee on every post. My mind is again interrupted.
“We are there sir, the fare is 31.30 cents.”
I hand the driver forty dollars and motion to him to keep the change. He graciously smiles, and quickly drives away. I make my way up to the ticketing counter.
“Hi, I’m checking in for flight 323 to Phoenix. Name is Austen Gustafsen.” I mention to the ticketing clerk. I hate having to fly under my given name, but I have had hassle in the past with trying to use my ring name, which I much prefer to the extremely Scandinavian Gustafsen.
“Um, sorry for the inconvenience sir, but you have been removed from this flight. We have an agent waiting to escort you to your new flight.” The ticketing agent replies, as I stare at her confused.
“Excuse me? What do you mean I’ve been removed from the flight.” I ask, clearly agitated.
“I can’t explain right now, but the agent will gladly fill you in sir.” She points over to an overweight black woman sitting on a glorified golf cart waving for me to join her.
I slowly walk over there, gritting my teeth, trying my damndest not to let my anger take control. I plop down on the cart, and she shoots me a huge silver dotted smile.
“Hello sir, I am Keisha. I will be your personal valet until your flight takes off.”
“Oh...kay…” I respond, clearly confused, “What’s going on Keisha?” I ask her.
“You have been removed from your economy flight sir, and we have been asked to ensure you are accommodated on a private jet, and that everything you want is readily available to you.”
“Who issued that order?” I asked, confused by this upgrade.
“We can’t say sir, we were given strict orders that the request remain anonymous.”
I shrug my shoulders. I was fairly certain Davey was behind this. I’m not sure why he would spend my money in this way, when we could easily enough used it elsewhere, but I’m not going to argue with traveling in style.
I fish my phone out of my pants pocket, and dial up Davey’s number. It rings, and rings, and then goes to voicemail. “Odd,” I thought, knowing Davey usually answers his phone, but maybe he was busy with something, or stupid him probably forgot it in the hotel room. I shoot him a quick text:
“Thanks for the upgrade, unnecessary, but it will be a nice comfort.”
I hit the send button, and the text travels the cybercloud or whatever it’s called to Davey’s phone. I sit back, and enjoy the ride, as we blow past walking passengers with luggage in tow. We exit the building, and taxi across the runway. The brisk Minnesota spring air smacking my face hard. I soak it all up, and we pull up beside a flat black jet.
“Your chariot sir,” Keisha motions me off the cart, and winks, again flashing her silver specked grin. I grab my suitcase, and make my way up the staircase into the jet. The inside is decked out in Red and black and light tan leather. A very attractive woman in a tight uniform stands next to a small bank of seats. She has long flowing blond hair, porcelain skin, and legs that go on for miles, her blue uniform barely holding her curves in. She is holding a champagne flute.
“Good afternoon, my name is Svetlana, and here is your drink sir.” She offers the champagne to me, and I nod at her.
“Sorry ma’am, but I don’t drink.” I politely say.
“Well sir, it’s custom for EVERYONE to have a complimentary champagne.
“Ma’am, I appreciate that, but please, I’m a recovering alcoholic, one sip of that will send me into immediate relapse. Thank you anyway though.”
She shuffles off disappointed, clearly feeling like she has failed at her job. I settle into one of the cushy leather seats, and lay my head back. Svetlana comes back into the cabin, and stops in front of me, reaching into my seat, breasts nearly plastered in my face. I can see all of them almost, at least the top, as she roots around in my seat.
“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?” I ask, trying to stop her.
“I’m just getting your seatbelt to get you buckled in,” and she continues to root around. Her hand regularly is grazing my butt as she grabs both ends of the seat belt and buckles me in, her heaving bosom plastered in my face the whole time. When she clicks the buckle together, she tightens it, and then has to wiggle her hand across the front of my pants to remove her other hand. She winks at
“Anything you need sir, and I will gladly accomodate. I mean ANYTHING. Once we reach cruising altitude, there is a small bed in the back to relax on and take a nap if you’d like, and we have unlimited wifi.”
I smile at her, “Thanks,” and I lean back, putting my feet up.
“I mean ANYTHING, sir.” she says again, smiling.
“Yeah I got it. For now, I’m just going to relax.” I urge, as she again frustratedly walks away.
Before the plane even taxis down the runway for take off, I again drift to sleep. The very same dream comes to me. The sparkling gold of the belt, the fans, the crowd, and quickly the droning noise, the dark, the beep. Again I snap awake. Svetlana is sitting across from me, smiling.
“Sorry sir, you were so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. We have landed. We have been in Phoenix about 20 minutes now.”
“TWENTY MINUTES! YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME?” I yelled, annoyed that she wouldn’t bother to tell me we had arrived. I wake up, and notice an odd maladjustment in my pants. I reach down and reposition everything, and realize that my penis was feeling slightly sensitive. I look over at Svetlana, and she is licking her lips.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” I holler, knowing full well the answer.
“Only what I was paid to do sir, although I’m a little disheartened you didn’t even wake up, but your eruption was well worth it.”
“YOU WERE PAID FOR? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE PAID FOR?” I ask, confused as hell.
“A man called up and asked if I would “entertain” you on your flight to Arizona. I could not let my skills go to waste, so I just did what I do best. I had hoped to wake you with a smile, but clearly I failed at that.”
“I AM A MARRIED MAN!”
“Oh don’t worry, discretion is key for me.”
I exit the plane muttering under my breath, “Fucking Davey, I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna kill him...I swear that son of a bitch is dead.”
Standing across from the plane’s exit is a large limo, with a driver standing outside with my name on a card.
I walk over, and look around.
“Much traffic ‘round here that you couldn’t tell it was me?” I joke.
“Precautions sir, please, your ride awaits.” Inside the car has a fully stocked bar, which begins to make me wonder if Davey is trying to get me drunk. It wasn’t going to work, especially a week before my big match.
I sit down, and settle in, when suddenly the doors open. In files 4 women in just thongs and bras. They sit down around me, wrapping their arms around me, running their fingers over my body. Their touch does feel amazing, but I keep thinking about my wife and daughter and how much I love them, and then one of them touches my lap, and I instantly have to push my daughter out of my mind. The sensation I am getting from down below makes thoughts of my daughter insanely uncomfortable. I close my eyes, I fold my hands over my lap, and fight every urge possible.
Finally the Limo stops, and we are sitting outside this gorgeous facility.
“Here you go sir, we are at the Phoenician.”
“Phoenician? We were supposed to be staying at the Holiday Inn. I can’t afford this.” I say, looking at the facility, and knowing I couldn’t afford an hour here, let alone a week.
“Don’t worry sir, everything is taken care of.”
“Let me guess, an anonymous man?” I ask, knowing full well the answer.
“Yes sir.”
I walk up the expansive walkway, passing gorgeously trimmed hedges, amazing fountains, and the most peacefully serene setting. I finally make it to the front desk.
“Austen Gustafsen checking in, may be under Austen Impact.”
“Ah yes, your assistant is already in the room. Here is your key, it is the Casita Suite, overlooking the resort. Jorge here will show you the way, and take your bag.”
I follow the bell boy with my bag.
“So how much is this place a night?” I ask.
“The room you’re going to be in generally runs about 12-1400 a night.”
My jaw hits the floor. “I REALLY CAN’T AFFORD THIS,” I think to myself.
He opens the room to what looks like a small Villa, and I enter. The room is destroyed. Bottles smashed everywhere, cocaine spilled out all over the table, mostly snorted, panties hanging everywhere, and then I see it. On the coffee table, I see Davey’s inhaler.
I slip the bell boy a 20, and he walks away, shocked by the state of the room.
“Jesus Christ Davey, are you trying to get me to relapse?” I look around the room. No sign of Davey of yet. I hear a faint puffing noise. The sound of Davey’s oxygen machine. I try to walk towards the sound, honing in like a hound on the trail of a missing person. I hear the puff again, and see Davey, laid out on the bathroom floor.
I walk in, and kick him in the foot. “Get up you idiot, you’re going to kill me.”
Davey doesn’t move, so I nudge him again. Again he doesn’t move.
“Jesus, you must have really partied hard.” I nudge him again, and this time he jostles a little, and then I notice. His oxygen tube was not in his nose like it was supposed to. It was lying by his face. I roll Davey over, and his eyes are bloodshot, and his face has little bruise like marks all over it. I reach down to his throat, fearing the worst. His skin cold to the touch I check for a pulse. Nothing. I begin panickingly moving my finger, hoping that I was just off the spot by a bit. It was no use. I could not find one.
I run to my phone, panicked at this point. I dial 911, and frantically wait for the operator.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“He’s...He’s...Dead, He’s gone, PLEASE, SEND SOMEONE QUICK.” Tears come pouring down my face, as I see the body of my best friend lying on the floor. Pale.
“Sir, who is dead, where are you.”
“I am at the Phoenician. I was meeting a friend, and...and...HE’S DEAD, He’s lying on the floor...DEAD.”
“Sir, are you sure he’s dead,” The operator asks.
“OF COURSE I KNOW. HE’S COLD, HE HAS NO PULSE. PLEASE, SEND SOMEONE QUICK, GOD DAMMIT...WHY...FUCK.” My face is just flowing with tears, I’m blubbering on the phone. I can feel myself dying on the inside as well.
“Sir we have paramedics on the way.”
“HE’S GONE...GOD DAMMIT.”
Within minutes the ambulance gets here, I am lying on the floor, Davey’s thin face held in my hands, crying and sobbing over him, my best friend, his body limp in my hands. The first medic rushes in, and assesses the scene. He feels for a pulse, but finds none. He looks up at the other medic making his way in with the med bag, and shakes his head. The other one stops, looks over at me, tears filling my face.
“DO SOMETHING!” I finally yell, “PLEASE, CAN’T YOU SAVE HIM?” I already knew the answer, but I was hoping that there was, that maybe I just wasn’t smart enough.
“There’s nothing we can do. Maybe we should take you outside to wait. We need to secure the room until police and the coroner get here.”
“NO, I am not leaving him, this was my best friend. I am not going to let him just rot in his own filth.”
“Sir, we need to make sure nothing is contaminated. We need to get to the bottom of why this happened.”
“I can tell you why. HE WAS TOO GOD DAMNED STUBBORN.”
“That may be sir, but we need to know for sure.”
I pull away from the medic a moment, walk over to Davey, and kick his stiffening legs repeatedly.
“God damn you Davey, God damn you...you were too fucking selfish, even till your last breath. Always worried about your fun, your high, and now what? I have to bury my best friend the week of the biggest match of my life. FUCK YOU!” I kick one last time, as I hear the bone in his leg snap.
My eyes again well up with tears, as the paramedics escort me out.
I sat in the back of the ambulance, sipping a cup of coffee, tears still rolling down my face. I see them roll out the body, under the white sheet. I walk up to it, stop the medics from carrying him out. I pull back the sheet to expose his mohawked face one more time. I hawk up the biggest loogie I can muster, and launch it right into his face, punching his chest before collapsing onto him with a massive hug.
“God dammit Davey. WHY NOW GOD DAMMIT!”
The officers pull me off of the body, cover him back up, and load him into the back of a hearse. They pull away, as does the ambulance. The police have blocked off the room, and I am shown to a matching room just down the row. I collapse onto the bed, face red and soaked from tears, as they keep flowing.
I pick up the phone, and dial Sarah’s number.
“Hello sweetie,” she answers.
“HE’S GONE,” I break down on the phone. Sobbing and heaving.
“What? Who’s gone?” She asks, concerned.
“DAVEY...He’s gone.” I fight to get the words out through the tears.
“OH GOD NO Honey, are you ok.”
“NO I’M NOT FUCKING OK, JESUS CHRIST, HOW WOULD I BE OK?” I snapped, she was taken aback by it, but not surprised.
“I’m so sorry honey, I’m on my way down there.”
“NO, please, I can’t let you see me like this. Not now.”
“Honey, please?”
“NO! That’s final.”
Sarah lets out a big sigh, trying to find a way to fight my attitude, but fails and finally succumbs to my stubborness.
“Fine, but please if you need me, call, and I will be right out there.”
“Fine.”
“I love you.” She says, softly, compassionately.
“I love you too.” I fight to get the words out as another fit of tears overpowers me, and I hang up the phone, and bury my face into the pillow crying uncontrollably. I look up across the room, and see the mini bar.Instantly the craving for a drink hits. I fight the urge, hard, but feel myself drawn to it. I fight back my urges, but feel myself failing. I get off the bed, and slowly move towards the mini bar, surveying the selection. Top shelf liquors, high end whiskey, top dollar vodka. I reach for a bottle of Patron, and pour it into a shot glass, and then grab the bottle of bourbon. I pour a glass of that. I sit and I stare at the drinks, sitting there, all ready for me, ready to drown my pain. Ready to send me back to the land I left. Sitting in that empty hotel room.
There I sat, an uncomfortable chair, in a dimly lit hotel room. Watching some dumb late night TV show, and waiting for the gym to open up. I should be sleeping, but I was anxious. The anxiety of the upcoming week of festivities. I had to be down in Arizona no later than Monday. I had promotional work to do. Davey was meeting me down there. He had already left to get preparations ready. Getting the room, getting my dietitian ready with my meal plan, setting up training times. He was so damn focused on me winning this title, I only wish he had been this focused on his own career.
My mind wandered a little, reflecting on the career of Davey Dynamo. Once heralded as the future of professional wrestling. Accolades beyond compare. One of the most decorated wrestlers in TEW. Things soured after the disappearance of Scott Sloan and the death of his wife. Davey went on a path of self destruction, and never recaptured the spark. I wish to hell he had just found his light, that inner fire that he now has for me to succeed.
I run my hand over the end table next to the chair. The wood grain had been raised due to fluid spills, more than likely mostly of the human kind. I quickly snatched my hand back. I opened the top drawer, as I do in all hotel rooms, to see if they too subscribed to the tradition of putting a bible in there. As predictable as a prostitute having an abortion, there, staring at me, was a black bible. I tried to shut the drawer, but something drew me to fold it open. I was compelled to study this book that my opponent had swore his life to.
I flip through, and find the book of Matt. I begin reading, the dry, droning tone wearing me out, which I had hoped would maybe put me to sleep, but then, I stumbled upon the sixth chapter of Matt. Verse five,
“And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may beseen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.”
I read this verse over and over again, not able to look away. “...You must not be like the hypocrites…”
I stared at these words, transfixed on the meaning, I could feel my head throbbing, a man, so devoted to this book, so freely breaks its laws stated therein by Christ himself. “...that they may beseen by others.”
My trance was broken by the obnoxiously loud ringing of the phone on the nightstand. I reach over and grab it.
“Yes?” I answer, slightly annoyed at the inconvenience.
“Sir, it is your 7am wake up call. The gym and spa are now open.” The receptionists voice on the other end calmly and politely states.
“Thank you.” I felt a little better, knowing they were just doing as I had asked. I couldn’t believe it was already 7am. I throw on my shorts and sneakers, and head down towards the gym. I slide my key card into the slot to open the door, and the light instantly blinks red.
“OH for fuck sake, I hate these damn things.” I try it again and again at varying speeds, and get the same result. I grasp the door handle with both hands and yank as hard as I can, at this point pouring out profanities at the door.
A woman comes walking over in tight yoga pants, and a sports bra, a towel around her neck. She sees my plight, and looks down, grabs my key and turns it around.
“Now try,” she states, smirking at me. I slide my key in, and pull out. Instantly the light turns green.
“You just have to put it in the right way,” She smirks, clearly pleased with her double entendre. She walks in, and I quickly follow, face glowing as red as the light on the door.
“You don’t mind if I work out with you, do ya?” She asks, sitting on the stationary bike, already punching in her settings.
“Well, I don’t own the place, so be my guest.”
The woman begins pedaling at a pretty high speed, earbuds in her ears as she chugged along at a heavy pace. I fire up the trusty treadmill, hop on, and begin running. I warm myself up for five minutes, running at a soft pace, before firing up the big guns, and running hard. I do 3 minutes of sprint, 2 minutes of walk, 4 minutes of sprint, 1 minute walk, alternating for 30 minutes. By the time I’m done, the woman is just looking at me. I look down, and realize my muscles are glistening from the sweat dripping down them.
“Like what you see?” I ask, smirking.
“No.” She responds, matter of factly.
I look at her puzzled, and she can tell my thought instantly.
“The wedding ring. It’s a damn shame.” She nods at my left finger.
I look down at the ring, and smile, “Yeah, sometimes it’s a burden, but I guess it’s a pretty good thing.”
“Speak for yourself. This glistening hunk of meat dangling in front of me like I’m a starving dog, and I can’t even have a lick.”
I instantly feel myself turn red again. I nod at her, and quickly make my way out of the gym before she makes me question my vows any further. She was amazingly put together. I love Sarah, but she has let herself slip since having Haylee. How a tight body like that would be fun, but I can’t. Not now, not ever. Only Sarah.
I slam my door hard, and flop down on the bed before grabbing my laptop. I open up the web browser, and pull up a sexy video. I needed to unload so I didn’t do something stupid. I start to control myself when suddenly my skype call pops up, and the picture of my wife and daughter appear on the screen. Instant boner killer. I ignore the call, knowing I am in no spot to be talking to them right now.
I walk to the bathroom, and fire up a cold shower. I hop in, letting that ice cold water flow over my body, trying to wash away the filthy thoughts I had for the gym lady. The longer I sat there though, the warmer the water got, which was accomplishing exactly the opposite of what I had set out to do. I start turning the poorly marked handle, and instantly a giant eruption of molten hot water pours out of the shower head like a brick of sheer pain. I quickly fling the handle the other way, and get hit with an equally piercing cold stream. I try to turn again, and again am met with the flames of hell biting every inch of my back and neck.
Finally I give up, and jump out. I’m sure that comedy of errors in the shower was enough to kill my feelings. I run to the computer, and call Sarah back. She answers, and Haylee is sitting on her lap holding her favorite stuffed elephant.
“Hi daddy,” She yells, waving, and clutching that stuffed elephant like it’s trying to escape.
“Hi baby girl, how are you?” I ask, blowing her kisses.
“Good daddy, we miss you.” She says, causing my heart to sink a little.
“I miss you too baby doll. I’ll be home in about a week, I promise.”
“Ok daddy. I love you.”
“I love you too kiddo. Love you mommy.”
“Love you too dear, kick Father Nathan’s ass.”
“I’ll try babe.”
“YEAH KICK HIS ASS,” Haylee repeats. Sarah and I instantly cover our mouths.
“Haylee June, we don’t say that word. Mommy was naughty for using a naughty word. Ok baby?” I scold through the computer.
“Yes daddy, I’m sorry. Bad mommy.” Sarah and I both chuckle at her scolding her mom.
I close down my computer and lie down on the bed. No sooner than my head hit the pillow than I start drifting off, and quickly fall asleep.
My mind was racing with dreams. Vivid, colorful. Dreams of me holding the NEW world title. That purple strap draped over my shoulder. The gold shining like the sun in the sky, each beam of light that hit dispersing in a different direction. The eruption of cheers from the crowd as I stood in the middle of the ring, Father Nathan buried, deep in the ground. My music pulses through the streets of Courtland Arizona like the anthem of the best year of my life. Then things turn a hazy shade of red, my music drowned by an ominous droning sound, and all I see is darkness. No title, no fans, nothing, just blackness, and a steady beep, ringing through my ears.
I quickly snap up out of bed and shake the cobwebs. I grab a protein drink out of the mini fridge and drink it down, throw all my stuff in my suitcase, and exit the room, leaving the keys on the nightstand.
As I walk out I hear a catcall, and look over my shoulder. The woman from the gym was walking down the steps in a very short pencil business skirt and tight white blouse which all accented her curves perfectly. I nod, acknowledging I heard her, and exit the hotel, climbing into the first cab in line.
“International Airport please, Terminal 1, Delta Airlines,” I instruct the driver, who nods in agreement, and begins shuffling off.
The driver weaves effortlessly through the heavy 494 traffic. Rush hour is always a bitch on this road, but these drivers know their way quite well. He weaves in and out like a dog in one of those agility courses. The thought made me chuckle, trying to watch Sarah train our dog, Sparky, to do that. He is a dumb thing, he would stop and pee on every post. My mind is again interrupted.
“We are there sir, the fare is 31.30 cents.”
I hand the driver forty dollars and motion to him to keep the change. He graciously smiles, and quickly drives away. I make my way up to the ticketing counter.
“Hi, I’m checking in for flight 323 to Phoenix. Name is Austen Gustafsen.” I mention to the ticketing clerk. I hate having to fly under my given name, but I have had hassle in the past with trying to use my ring name, which I much prefer to the extremely Scandinavian Gustafsen.
“Um, sorry for the inconvenience sir, but you have been removed from this flight. We have an agent waiting to escort you to your new flight.” The ticketing agent replies, as I stare at her confused.
“Excuse me? What do you mean I’ve been removed from the flight.” I ask, clearly agitated.
“I can’t explain right now, but the agent will gladly fill you in sir.” She points over to an overweight black woman sitting on a glorified golf cart waving for me to join her.
I slowly walk over there, gritting my teeth, trying my damndest not to let my anger take control. I plop down on the cart, and she shoots me a huge silver dotted smile.
“Hello sir, I am Keisha. I will be your personal valet until your flight takes off.”
“Oh...kay…” I respond, clearly confused, “What’s going on Keisha?” I ask her.
“You have been removed from your economy flight sir, and we have been asked to ensure you are accommodated on a private jet, and that everything you want is readily available to you.”
“Who issued that order?” I asked, confused by this upgrade.
“We can’t say sir, we were given strict orders that the request remain anonymous.”
I shrug my shoulders. I was fairly certain Davey was behind this. I’m not sure why he would spend my money in this way, when we could easily enough used it elsewhere, but I’m not going to argue with traveling in style.
I fish my phone out of my pants pocket, and dial up Davey’s number. It rings, and rings, and then goes to voicemail. “Odd,” I thought, knowing Davey usually answers his phone, but maybe he was busy with something, or stupid him probably forgot it in the hotel room. I shoot him a quick text:
“Thanks for the upgrade, unnecessary, but it will be a nice comfort.”
I hit the send button, and the text travels the cybercloud or whatever it’s called to Davey’s phone. I sit back, and enjoy the ride, as we blow past walking passengers with luggage in tow. We exit the building, and taxi across the runway. The brisk Minnesota spring air smacking my face hard. I soak it all up, and we pull up beside a flat black jet.
“Your chariot sir,” Keisha motions me off the cart, and winks, again flashing her silver specked grin. I grab my suitcase, and make my way up the staircase into the jet. The inside is decked out in Red and black and light tan leather. A very attractive woman in a tight uniform stands next to a small bank of seats. She has long flowing blond hair, porcelain skin, and legs that go on for miles, her blue uniform barely holding her curves in. She is holding a champagne flute.
“Good afternoon, my name is Svetlana, and here is your drink sir.” She offers the champagne to me, and I nod at her.
“Sorry ma’am, but I don’t drink.” I politely say.
“Well sir, it’s custom for EVERYONE to have a complimentary champagne.
“Ma’am, I appreciate that, but please, I’m a recovering alcoholic, one sip of that will send me into immediate relapse. Thank you anyway though.”
She shuffles off disappointed, clearly feeling like she has failed at her job. I settle into one of the cushy leather seats, and lay my head back. Svetlana comes back into the cabin, and stops in front of me, reaching into my seat, breasts nearly plastered in my face. I can see all of them almost, at least the top, as she roots around in my seat.
“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?” I ask, trying to stop her.
“I’m just getting your seatbelt to get you buckled in,” and she continues to root around. Her hand regularly is grazing my butt as she grabs both ends of the seat belt and buckles me in, her heaving bosom plastered in my face the whole time. When she clicks the buckle together, she tightens it, and then has to wiggle her hand across the front of my pants to remove her other hand. She winks at
“Anything you need sir, and I will gladly accomodate. I mean ANYTHING. Once we reach cruising altitude, there is a small bed in the back to relax on and take a nap if you’d like, and we have unlimited wifi.”
I smile at her, “Thanks,” and I lean back, putting my feet up.
“I mean ANYTHING, sir.” she says again, smiling.
“Yeah I got it. For now, I’m just going to relax.” I urge, as she again frustratedly walks away.
Before the plane even taxis down the runway for take off, I again drift to sleep. The very same dream comes to me. The sparkling gold of the belt, the fans, the crowd, and quickly the droning noise, the dark, the beep. Again I snap awake. Svetlana is sitting across from me, smiling.
“Sorry sir, you were so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. We have landed. We have been in Phoenix about 20 minutes now.”
“TWENTY MINUTES! YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME?” I yelled, annoyed that she wouldn’t bother to tell me we had arrived. I wake up, and notice an odd maladjustment in my pants. I reach down and reposition everything, and realize that my penis was feeling slightly sensitive. I look over at Svetlana, and she is licking her lips.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” I holler, knowing full well the answer.
“Only what I was paid to do sir, although I’m a little disheartened you didn’t even wake up, but your eruption was well worth it.”
“YOU WERE PAID FOR? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE PAID FOR?” I ask, confused as hell.
“A man called up and asked if I would “entertain” you on your flight to Arizona. I could not let my skills go to waste, so I just did what I do best. I had hoped to wake you with a smile, but clearly I failed at that.”
“I AM A MARRIED MAN!”
“Oh don’t worry, discretion is key for me.”
I exit the plane muttering under my breath, “Fucking Davey, I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna kill him...I swear that son of a bitch is dead.”
Standing across from the plane’s exit is a large limo, with a driver standing outside with my name on a card.
I walk over, and look around.
“Much traffic ‘round here that you couldn’t tell it was me?” I joke.
“Precautions sir, please, your ride awaits.” Inside the car has a fully stocked bar, which begins to make me wonder if Davey is trying to get me drunk. It wasn’t going to work, especially a week before my big match.
I sit down, and settle in, when suddenly the doors open. In files 4 women in just thongs and bras. They sit down around me, wrapping their arms around me, running their fingers over my body. Their touch does feel amazing, but I keep thinking about my wife and daughter and how much I love them, and then one of them touches my lap, and I instantly have to push my daughter out of my mind. The sensation I am getting from down below makes thoughts of my daughter insanely uncomfortable. I close my eyes, I fold my hands over my lap, and fight every urge possible.
Finally the Limo stops, and we are sitting outside this gorgeous facility.
“Here you go sir, we are at the Phoenician.”
“Phoenician? We were supposed to be staying at the Holiday Inn. I can’t afford this.” I say, looking at the facility, and knowing I couldn’t afford an hour here, let alone a week.
“Don’t worry sir, everything is taken care of.”
“Let me guess, an anonymous man?” I ask, knowing full well the answer.
“Yes sir.”
I walk up the expansive walkway, passing gorgeously trimmed hedges, amazing fountains, and the most peacefully serene setting. I finally make it to the front desk.
“Austen Gustafsen checking in, may be under Austen Impact.”
“Ah yes, your assistant is already in the room. Here is your key, it is the Casita Suite, overlooking the resort. Jorge here will show you the way, and take your bag.”
I follow the bell boy with my bag.
“So how much is this place a night?” I ask.
“The room you’re going to be in generally runs about 12-1400 a night.”
My jaw hits the floor. “I REALLY CAN’T AFFORD THIS,” I think to myself.
He opens the room to what looks like a small Villa, and I enter. The room is destroyed. Bottles smashed everywhere, cocaine spilled out all over the table, mostly snorted, panties hanging everywhere, and then I see it. On the coffee table, I see Davey’s inhaler.
I slip the bell boy a 20, and he walks away, shocked by the state of the room.
“Jesus Christ Davey, are you trying to get me to relapse?” I look around the room. No sign of Davey of yet. I hear a faint puffing noise. The sound of Davey’s oxygen machine. I try to walk towards the sound, honing in like a hound on the trail of a missing person. I hear the puff again, and see Davey, laid out on the bathroom floor.
I walk in, and kick him in the foot. “Get up you idiot, you’re going to kill me.”
Davey doesn’t move, so I nudge him again. Again he doesn’t move.
“Jesus, you must have really partied hard.” I nudge him again, and this time he jostles a little, and then I notice. His oxygen tube was not in his nose like it was supposed to. It was lying by his face. I roll Davey over, and his eyes are bloodshot, and his face has little bruise like marks all over it. I reach down to his throat, fearing the worst. His skin cold to the touch I check for a pulse. Nothing. I begin panickingly moving my finger, hoping that I was just off the spot by a bit. It was no use. I could not find one.
I run to my phone, panicked at this point. I dial 911, and frantically wait for the operator.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“He’s...He’s...Dead, He’s gone, PLEASE, SEND SOMEONE QUICK.” Tears come pouring down my face, as I see the body of my best friend lying on the floor. Pale.
“Sir, who is dead, where are you.”
“I am at the Phoenician. I was meeting a friend, and...and...HE’S DEAD, He’s lying on the floor...DEAD.”
“Sir, are you sure he’s dead,” The operator asks.
“OF COURSE I KNOW. HE’S COLD, HE HAS NO PULSE. PLEASE, SEND SOMEONE QUICK, GOD DAMMIT...WHY...FUCK.” My face is just flowing with tears, I’m blubbering on the phone. I can feel myself dying on the inside as well.
“Sir we have paramedics on the way.”
“HE’S GONE...GOD DAMMIT.”
Within minutes the ambulance gets here, I am lying on the floor, Davey’s thin face held in my hands, crying and sobbing over him, my best friend, his body limp in my hands. The first medic rushes in, and assesses the scene. He feels for a pulse, but finds none. He looks up at the other medic making his way in with the med bag, and shakes his head. The other one stops, looks over at me, tears filling my face.
“DO SOMETHING!” I finally yell, “PLEASE, CAN’T YOU SAVE HIM?” I already knew the answer, but I was hoping that there was, that maybe I just wasn’t smart enough.
“There’s nothing we can do. Maybe we should take you outside to wait. We need to secure the room until police and the coroner get here.”
“NO, I am not leaving him, this was my best friend. I am not going to let him just rot in his own filth.”
“Sir, we need to make sure nothing is contaminated. We need to get to the bottom of why this happened.”
“I can tell you why. HE WAS TOO GOD DAMNED STUBBORN.”
“That may be sir, but we need to know for sure.”
I pull away from the medic a moment, walk over to Davey, and kick his stiffening legs repeatedly.
“God damn you Davey, God damn you...you were too fucking selfish, even till your last breath. Always worried about your fun, your high, and now what? I have to bury my best friend the week of the biggest match of my life. FUCK YOU!” I kick one last time, as I hear the bone in his leg snap.
My eyes again well up with tears, as the paramedics escort me out.
I sat in the back of the ambulance, sipping a cup of coffee, tears still rolling down my face. I see them roll out the body, under the white sheet. I walk up to it, stop the medics from carrying him out. I pull back the sheet to expose his mohawked face one more time. I hawk up the biggest loogie I can muster, and launch it right into his face, punching his chest before collapsing onto him with a massive hug.
“God dammit Davey. WHY NOW GOD DAMMIT!”
The officers pull me off of the body, cover him back up, and load him into the back of a hearse. They pull away, as does the ambulance. The police have blocked off the room, and I am shown to a matching room just down the row. I collapse onto the bed, face red and soaked from tears, as they keep flowing.
I pick up the phone, and dial Sarah’s number.
“Hello sweetie,” she answers.
“HE’S GONE,” I break down on the phone. Sobbing and heaving.
“What? Who’s gone?” She asks, concerned.
“DAVEY...He’s gone.” I fight to get the words out through the tears.
“OH GOD NO Honey, are you ok.”
“NO I’M NOT FUCKING OK, JESUS CHRIST, HOW WOULD I BE OK?” I snapped, she was taken aback by it, but not surprised.
“I’m so sorry honey, I’m on my way down there.”
“NO, please, I can’t let you see me like this. Not now.”
“Honey, please?”
“NO! That’s final.”
Sarah lets out a big sigh, trying to find a way to fight my attitude, but fails and finally succumbs to my stubborness.
“Fine, but please if you need me, call, and I will be right out there.”
“Fine.”
“I love you.” She says, softly, compassionately.
“I love you too.” I fight to get the words out as another fit of tears overpowers me, and I hang up the phone, and bury my face into the pillow crying uncontrollably. I look up across the room, and see the mini bar.Instantly the craving for a drink hits. I fight the urge, hard, but feel myself drawn to it. I fight back my urges, but feel myself failing. I get off the bed, and slowly move towards the mini bar, surveying the selection. Top shelf liquors, high end whiskey, top dollar vodka. I reach for a bottle of Patron, and pour it into a shot glass, and then grab the bottle of bourbon. I pour a glass of that. I sit and I stare at the drinks, sitting there, all ready for me, ready to drown my pain. Ready to send me back to the land I left. Sitting in that empty hotel room.