Pittsburgh reminded Joe of New Jersey in a lot of ways. Maybe it was the location. Maybe it was the people. Either way, being here reminded him of home, or at least a former home.
He was in the city for two reasons. First, Trent Steel was under house arrest for his own protection. Trent, his best friend for a little over a decade, had his kids taken from him. That being what it was, Joe wondered if there had been threats against Trent or if police simply didn’t want him getting killed as he became a one-man posse against the criminal underworld. Trent Steel would be The Punisher with barbed wire instead of bullets.
The thought amused him as he made his way into the elevator of the Kimpton Hotel Monaco Pittsburgh. It was a four-star hotel, so at the very least Trent wasn’t being forced to hide in a sleazy motel somewhere. The elevator clicked up to the fourth floor and Joe stepped out. He looked down both sides of the hallway, attempting to figure out which room he would be in. He pulled out his phone.
“Yeah,” he said. “But which end?”
He glanced at the helpful placard on the wall noting which direction 402 was in. He turned to the left. When he got to the room (noticing the view outside was simply the rooftop of another building), he knocked on it only to be greeted by a man smaller than him, but bulky. He was built like a barrel, but Joe thought the fact he had a large head and no neck made him look like a big toe.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a gruff tone.
“I’m here to see Trent,” Joe replied, equally as grumpy. He was in no mood after the week he had.
“There’s no Trent here.”
“Listen Rent-A-Cop, Trent texted me the location. He was the best man at my second wedding. Fuck off and let me in.”
“He what? Just a minute.”
The door closed and Joe could hear audible shouting on the other side. He heard three voices that weren’t Trent, and then one voice that definitely was, although somewhat slurred. He had definitely been hitting the sauce tonight, Joe decided. It seemed the security detail was scolding him for giving away his location.
He rolled his eyes and knocked on the door again.
“If I wanted to hurt Trent, I could have done it at our job last week. Let me the fuck in.”
The door opened and another guard, lankier than the other and almost Joe’s height, stared him down. He instinctively kept a hand on his sidearm, especially when he realized he was looking at the biggest person in the general vicinity.
“Okay sir, come on in.”
“Thanks, I..”
He walked into the room and saw that things were disheveled. He also noticed the man who first greeted him in the corner, holding one of the hotel’s white towels against his face. The towel was quickly turning red, and from what Joe could tell, Trent had broken his nose. His friend was back at a table, his hand shoved in a bucket of ice while he sloshed around the contents of one of the many bottles that happened to be in his hand.
“Have an accident?” he joked, nodding back at the cop that mumbled something under his breath.
“He and I had a philosophical disagreement. He said his face was pretty, and I said it wasn’t. I won.”
Trent smirked as the cop walked out of the room to the bathroom. The lankier cop shook his head and followed his fellow officer out. Trent gestured to JC to sit down as he took his hand out of the ice bucket.
“How's it going, caveman?”
“Nevermind me, I’m here for you.”
“Oh careful Joe...Everyone whose been there for me ends up getting kidnapped, and the cops can’t FIND FUCKING SHIT ABOUT WHO DID IT?!!!” Trent yelled towards the bathroom.
He reopened a bottle of whiskey, and took a swig.
“Am I the only one who finds it funny that I am obviously the victim here, but I’m being punished?”
JC looked at Trent concerned.
“I get that shit’s bad, but you’re never gonna find them drunk.”
He picked up a bottle and glanced at it. He didn’t drink due to his medication, but he also didn’t have a desire to.
“Besides, I’d like to see whoever these fuckers are come at me. They’ll be the ones who need police protection.”
Trent laughed. Not an actual humorous laugh. It was more manic. More erratic.
“Joe. I appreciate your candor, but they are not coming for me despite what these people think. They kidnapped my ex and her husband. Waited a few months and then kidnapped or shot everyone else. My parents are gone. My adopted son is gone. My actual children are gone. Whoever is doing this...they want me to suffer. They want me so angry that I’ll start killing people. That’s why I’m drinking. Because when I’m drunk I’m not as methodical as I usually am. I’m not drinking because I’m in pain...I’m drinking to not cause pain.”
Trent looked over hearing the cops argue in the bathroom.
“Well...not too much.”
“Eh, he looks like Bill Paxton at the end of Weird Science anyway.”
Joe smirked for a moment, sitting back in the chair. He then lost it again when he realized the gravity of the situation.
“I do feel a little useless here, but that’s par for the course this week for me.”
Trent glared at JC. Not in anger, but in confusion. Trent sighed and put the cap back on the bottle and leaned forward.
“How the flying fuck are you useless? Because of what? Two matches? Three matches? You feel like you’re losing your mojo? That you don’t have it any more? I swear, sometimes you make it really fucking easy to make these caveman jokes with the stupid shit that comes out of your mouth. Let’s take a moment here and analyze this. You’re a professional wrestler...that means your nuts to begin with, but unlike the rest of those overblown egomaniacs that usually rub us the wrong way you actually have a legit mental problem. On top of that you’re working hurt now. You don’t wanna fuck shit up outside of your life by doing something stupid in the ring, but you also got your pride. And these are world title matches on top of that? Son, when you get a shit sundae you get the one with extra fucking cherries on top.” Trent said, chuckling a bit hoping to at least get a laugh from his friend.
If he wanted a laugh, he wouldn’t get one. Joe was nothing if not stubborn.
“I went into that match set to make history. I came out of it damn-near paralyzed. I let the entire roster down. And honestly, I’m not sure I can beat Davison on Monday. Not the way I am now.”
He shrugged. He glanced at his phone and noticed the last text sent from Lucy, a "fine" when he said where he was going. It was very much not "fine," and they both knew it. She was still mad and he wasn't sure if he was here to check on his friend or run away from a fight.
“Lucy’s right to be pissed at me. I gave him the blueprint because I’m got too much fucking pride.”
“Did you?”
Trent cocked up his left eyebrow.
“So you know what he’s going to do. You also know about his injuries too. The one thing you both do is put your cards on the table. You know he’s gonna go for your neck so you come up with a strategy where you don’t get into that position. You’ll figure out something. You always do. And if anyone knows anything about you is that you have the hardest damn foot in the sport. I got the footprint on my face to prove it after all.”
At that JC finally lets out a small laugh, in spite of himself.
“I want to win,” he continued. “Because who the hell am I if I don’t. But mostly, I think I just want to get out of this match able to walk.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, which hadn’t stopped being sore days later.
“But here I am being a dick and worrying about my own problems. Your shit is way more serious. I’m sorry, man.”
“Is it? You wouldn’t know it from how some people are act...you know what. That’s not fair. I get these guys are just doing their job. Damn it.” Trent said, reaching down and grabbing a bottle of water from under the chair. He opened the bottle and drank some.
“You know. You got nothing to be sorry for. Everyone’s got problems. Mine, I can’t do anything. I am powerless to change the outcome at this moment. So all I can do is wait. Wait to find out if everyone who's ever cared about me is gonna end up floating face down in a river or if I’m gonna see them again alive and somewhat happy. My brothers were by earlier. They told me flat out, don’t come to their homes anytime soon. It’s not that they don’t care, they're just worried that someone’s gonna come in the middle of the night and take them to. Can’t blame ‘em. Just means I’m more isolated. Every night when I finally pass out I dream that they are still here, and every morning I wake up to the sound of silence. Yet, here I am more worried about you than me. I can handle this. You. Gotta learn how to let shit slide because if you don’t. You’re going to end up like me. Alone. And with that problem you got and you got someone who actually finds your ugly ass attractive. Hold onto that. When this match is over. Win or lose. You get your neck cleared up because if you do this whole one more match after...I’ll break you. It’ll be that foot to. I’ll start with the pinky toe and work my way up.”
Trent winked and smiled as he drank more water.
JC reached over and grabbed a water bottle of his own, the only thing he had any interest in imbibing.
“I can drink to that,” he said, then toasted his fellow Rogue.
