February 8, 2021
Joe hated talking on the phone. Truly hated it. He preferred face to face, where he could study the body language of the person he was conversing with. It felt more genuine, a living dialogue between two human beings. On the phone, he liked to keep things short and sweet, and he especially didn’t like opening up.
You couldn’t read people that way. It was impersonal.
That’s probably why he stewed in his New York condo, while his fiancee was away in Chicago, getting ready to wrestle for UGWC. He felt unsure about even watching, as he didn’t really want to take someone else’s problems on himself right now. Lucy had been bitter and depressed, among other things.
Truth be told, he was kind of glad she was gone, as much as he hated himself for having the thought. She wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around. He understood why, and he tried his best to keep his distance, but they were going to have to have a talk soon and he wasn’t sure if either would like how it ended.
So he stewed and watched the playback of Uprising’s “Coronation” supershow. It was a show he should have felt good about. He was currently 2-0-1 in the company, and beating Legion in a first blood match was a big moment. Legion tried to cheat his way out of it and JC made him pay. He let ‘The Answer’ take over...and realized why he wanted to put that part of himself in the past to begin with.
He watched the blood spurt from Legion’s hand and remembered how good the sight was. Then he felt a pang of guilt and shut his eyes.
That didn’t help either.
When he closed his eyes, he saw Legion’s laughing, bloodied face, looking back at him and demanding JC end him.
And he wanted to.
Oh, how he wanted to.
It would have been so easy to do. Stomp his head into the mat, split him open and Uprising would be down one monster.
But he couldn’t do it. And right now he didn’t know what scared him more. Was it the fact that he could only barely stop himself from ending the career of yet another wrestler, or that part of him, a part he kept locked away with medication, wished he had?
He opened his eyes and looked at the screen, with the show moving onto another match.
“The world keeps spinnin’,” he muttered to himself. It had. JC said “fuck Reno” and left, but Uprising moved on without him. Another washed-up has-been couldn’t hack it in an upstart promotion. Another person rage quit and couldn’t handle a setback.
Forget him.
Move on.
His phone, turned facedown on the counter nearby, buzzed and the sound echoed through the empty condo. Joe sighed and got up, his body a cacophony of aches and pains from the war he endured just two nights prior. He wrapped a hand around the square box and turned it over, where he noticed he had another text message. This time there were two from Matt Knox.
"Yo, JC you ok?"
"Don't make me come to Chicago."
These weren’t even the first. He had been sending Joe semi-regular messages, and if it wasn’t him, it was Mac. Or Amber. Or one of his other friends who tuned in. Lucy wasn’t concerned, but he wasn’t sure Lucy had even watched the show. She had her own problems, after all.
The phone buzzed again, and again, signaling that this time it was a phone call.
What a shock, it was Amber. This had been the...what? Seventh attempt? Eighth? She was pretty concerned for someone who didn’t like him. Maybe the near miss at getting her own head knocked, when all he wanted to do was get out and she stood in his way, had rattled her. He didn’t know and he really didn’t care.
But he did promise to return her call.
He pressed the appropriate button to put her on speakerphone. Not like they needed any kind of privacy.
“I’m here,” he said, barely noticing his gruff tone and hoarse speech.
"... And about fucking time. Jesus, way to make a girl think you're dead or something."
“I feel close to it, but no, I’m still alive.”
He would be sore for a while, and he supposed that might put him at a disadvantage before his next match, but he was definitely alive. Whether or not he wanted to be was another matter entirely.
“If I didn’t know any better,” he joked without an ounce of humor in his voice, “I’d get the impression that you were worried about me.”
A scoff came from the other side, one he'd heard more often since they'd become relative co-workers again.
"Yeah, I worry about you as much as I worry about passing a kidney stone. And I don't have kidney stones…"
Joe rolled his eyes, for the benefit of no one. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for banter. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
“Okay,” he said. “As lovely as that conversation might be, you got your answer. I’m alive.”
"Don't even get me started on… I'm kidding. I just wanted to check in, I know things have been all sorts of rough recently and we're on good enough terms that I can't help but care- even just the smallest amount."
Another long, deep sigh.
“Rough is an understatement,” he grunted. “But it’s really not something I care to chat about over the phone. Maybe the next time I see you, if I decide to go back…”
He let the sentence trail off. Nothing else really needed to be added at the end.
"You know, it's funny you should mention that."
Abruptly she hung up, only for a knock on the door to echo impatiently. Before he had time to react to the call ending, he had to answer the door. Was she really just waiting outside this whole time?
He got up and opened the door, looking down at someone he once tried to cripple. It was funny how all of his friendships started that way.
“Seems like a lot of trouble to call first,” he said bluntly.
"Well, if you didn't pick up I was gonna kick your door in- so in reality I actually saved you a lot of time and hassle. In which case- you’re welcome."
His eyes rolled again.
“Wouldn’t bother me. It’s not my safety deposit buried in this place.”
Amber chuckled knowingly.
"Don't put that temptation out there, we both know I'm not above robbing anyone blind."
Joe moved an arm aside and motioned for her to go ahead and come in. Following at what could be considered a safe distance, the edge of JC's kick range from a standing start at least, Amber made her way in quietly as though trying to find a way to ease the obvious tension. Failing spectacularly the moment she opened her mouth.
"You said you didn't wanna discuss over the phone… we're not on the phone now."
“Yes,” he agreed. “I’m aware.”
He shut the door behind him, glad that he didn’t have to explain unexpected visitors to anyone right now.
“I think you know what’s going on with me. All that shit I tried to bury…”
A thought of Legion’s bloodied, frenzied face surfaced in his mind again. He shook his head.
“..just came right back up the second some psycho decided to piss me off. I can’t be that person. I won’t.”
Amber nodded thoughtfully, her own issues bubbling away like some sickened parallel of sorts.
"Easier said than done with what we do. Can't expect change overnight, they say leopard can't change it's spots- but that's cosmetic, that's on the outside. We… you… wanna change what's on the inside and no celebrity detox bullshit can help that."
With a shake of the head, Amber leaned against the nearest wall as her ankle ached with a dull throb.
"I wish I could waltz in here with the answer to your problems. I'd be richer than fucking God if I knew how to cure this sickness…You're one of the few willing to admit that it is a problem, that alone puts you ahead of the pack."
“I’m not looking for answers. Or a cure. I’m just looking to keep everyone safe. I get the feeling that if I let myself go again…”
He shrugged, as if he’s already resigned himself to some inevitable conclusion in the future.
“...there won’t be any coming back this time.”
Pensive, though surprisingly passive, Amber watched the lines in his face deepen as he spoke and his brow furrow further. Bother was a universal language, one she'd learned early on.
"What makes you think that letting go is the only option. Cause that's what it sounds like- you've decided that's the only option available and you still wanna try and avoid it?"
Amber cleared her throat trying to pick her words carefully. She was well within range of a Big Boot of Death although she imagined he'd be reluctant to put a hole in the wall.
"I mean if you're only looking straight down, that's always going to be the only option you see."
He noticed through her body language that she was tense, perhaps more so than he was. She was giving off the impression of being cool, calm and collected, but underneath she looked like she might bolt at any time. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall next to the entrance.
“You can relax,” he assured her. “I’m not going to kick you.”
Joe scoffed.
“I think the fact that you’re tense tells me everything I need to know.”
He leaned back, wrapped his hand around the door handle and opened it back up. Only minutes after letting her inside, he was showing her the way out.
“You can go now, Amber. Sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
Vaguely offended, Amber straightened up- not prepared to simply walk away when there was more to be said.
"Don't be like that- you can't just ignore everything cause you don't like it."
If she had hackles, no doubt they'd have been raised and agitated. That passive demeanor making way for something more… resentful.
"Just cause you don't want to care- doesn't mean the rest of us don't. Bottle it all up, shove it back down your throat cause one more day won't kill you, huh? It's almost like you wanna be that person, you just can't justify why."
Joe took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, before glaring right at Amber. He didn’t expect her to back down, that wouldn’t be her style. But he intended to let her know he was serious.
“If I didn’t care who I hurt...I wouldn’t be letting you talk to me like this,” he growled.
He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms again and closing his eyes.
“Have a safe trip back to Atlantic City.”
A moment of tense silence passed between them, stares fixated and angry in their own right.
"It doesn't end this way Joe. When you're ready to actually care- let me know…"
Amber's words trailed in her wake as she reluctantly turned on her heel and disappeared out the door, making sure to emphatically close it behind her- without actually slamming it. A statement made without a fist being thrown.
Joe's eyes opened at the door being slammed, slightly startled out of the meditative state he was trying to put himself into.
A moment of realization hit him in which he realized he may have fucked up a burgeoning friendship.
"Fuck," he said quietly, before throwing a punch behind him into the wall, which landed impotently without any kind of momentum to really deliver the impact he wanted.
It seemed a punch was thrown after all.
