Cassandra Baker Savage hated lying to her father, Malcolm. Especially since he spent a career in Military Intelligence 5 breaking through peoples deception. It was hard to keep secrets around Sir Malcolm when his job used to be exposing them.
Cass, being a good wife, kept up the front and feigned ignorance. But she could tell he had a whiff of something going down.
I saw the sores on his neck he tried to hide with a scarf. Anthony wouldn’t normally be caught dead in a scarf. He was also showing some incredibly stiff movement…
Daddy, he’s a professional fighter that’s been doing this for years. Of course he’s going to be creaky here and there.
Please, Cass. Don’t patronize me. Not like this. He hasn’t done a photo shoot in weeks. His mood is mercurial. Fluctuating between forced happiness and depression.
You had your moods, Father. I would have thought a man who used to work absurdly long hours could relate. You weren’t exactly easy to contend with.
She tried to sip her tea, but that probing stare of his made her hand and cup shake.
No photo sessions, bad mood, he moves worse than I do at times and I’m in my 60’s. Plus this…
Malcolm slides a notarized letter from the World Boxing Council’s medical staff. It’s a waiver for medications. Seriously powerful anti-inflammatory meds. The kind they don’t allow in boxing unless it’s actually needed.
Cass winced and put her cup down.
All these sudden and constant bookings in both his sports, these moves he’s making to expedite a transfer from fighter to promoter…
Cassandra, your husband, my son-in-law is making moves like a man without a lot of time left. Is he…
No, he’s not dying, it’s just…
****, if I tell you before he does, he’ll be kettle boiling.
Malcolm realized what he was asking her daughter to reveal was a very sensitive subject. It bothered her to keep it bottled, but she also knew if things leaked without him able to steer that ship, the rumor mill would be churning all sorts of awful conjecture.
But, despite his stuffy and overly stoic demeanor, Malcolm loved his son in law like his biological children.
I didn’t mean to offend…
Trust me, Father. Knowing the truth doesn’t make it any easier to digest. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him. His plans have changed drastically and…
*sighs* You were a career soldier. You understand being forced to put down the sword before you thought you were ready hurts.
Yes it does. How long does he have until he has to hang it up?
Maybe 2 years. A big maybe. So if he comes off as ratty or impatient, understand something. There’s a clock running on his career. And he will go out of his way to get what he can. Even if it means stomping on feelings, including his own.
He’s losing the ability to do what he does best. To him, he might as well be dying.
San Diego, California
Welcome to the New Normal, Tony.
Tony had been puking for the last few minutes. These new meds were rough. They made his stomach rumble like an unbalanced washing machine, and he was cranky all the time. Even minor annoyances ran a risk of ruining his already uneven mood.
Christ, if this is crap I have to deal with the rest of my life…
He flushed the toilet and went to the sink to rinse off. His hands were writhing in agony, and considering he refused to take anything stronger than Advil because he was a recovering pill addict, it meant he had to plow through this with little relief.
It wasn’t gonna stop him from getting what he needed done. It just gave him more urgency.
No more time. No more second chances. No more waiting until next time…
He simply didn’t have that time like he used to.
There was a bandage around his neck. He told people he got hurt in his last match, but it actually hid a nasty lesion that barked at him when he peeled the gauze off. Tony was about to clean and dress it again…
Tony…
Shi…take mushrooms! Greg!
Tony got his new cameraman’s name wrong…again.
It’s Gary, sir…I just wanted to remind you they’re only keeping the arena open for another half hour, so…
Yeah, I’ll be ready in a moment. Can I…
Gary didn’t say anything. He just nodded with a slight grumble and walked out. Tony felt a pang of guilt…
Nobody needs to know until I think they’re ready.
He dressed that ugly bastard up, a little splash of water on the face…
Everything a-okay! Nothing to see here. Just another day of Tony doing Tony stuff…
But as he tried to lie to himself, he heard that clock ticking in his head. Soon he wouldn’t be able to do those Tony things. That made him sicker than any meds.
-
Arena crews always had Tony’s respect. Their job sucked, especially in big venues like this. The crew at Pachenga had a monster truck rally to set up for tonight. Then a basketball game on Wednesday. Then FNF…
It’s always something going on at a major venue like this. A constant flow of work they didn’t waste time on, they just got it done no matter what. Savage could respect that. Do the job with no drama. It was an attribute the wrestling industry lacked sometimes.
Won’t lie; when I found out they put Larry and I in a four way, it wasn’t ideal. I mean, John Blade and a rookie stuffed into a match along 2 of the best in the industry. That’s like…well…like planning a bachelor party for your buddy, but his uptight parents insist on coming along. Or a romantic weekend with your spouse hampered by inlaws playing third wheel.
And you can’t get rid of them, no matter what. Kind of like a bad comedy movie.
One can gripe, one could throw a fit. Or…you just find a way to make it work. Like these guys. He points at the crew busting hump to level out the dirt track before they bring in the cars.
Hell, it might be kind of fun actually…*ugh*
The stomach acts up, he has to take a moment.
You okay?
Just…under the weather. Anyways…
Beating up on Blade’s always fun. He’s like a stress ball that bleeds. Seems to serve the purpose of a warmup tool to get ready for other things.
Maybe this Octavia might be fun to watch. Fresh optimistic face thrown to 2 wolves and a stunt dummy just to see how she reacts. Kind of a brutal draw for her, though. But she’s got that “can do” sunshine attitude many of us used to have starting off in the biz…
Really, though, she’s got too much on her plate too soon. And letting a rookie play spoiler in a story she’s got no role in…
Nah. That rewrite getting thrown in the trash like the last season of G.O.T. should have.
Then, of course…Larry.
If you’re familiar with DPI or UGWC, you know the history. Not that usually wrestling soap opera bollocks. No bodies, no affairs, no fireballs to the kisser. Just 2 guys battling it out to see simply who is better over the years.
So far, I’m up. But, I am always a guy willing to let somebody try to win their money back at the table. I’d expect the same if roles were reversed.
A classic showdown between aces with the chips all in. It just seems we gotta deal with people that frankly are short-stacked and don’t belong at our table.
I’ve had to come to the realization that sometimes, like our intrepid arena staff, He points to them, struggling to get those wrecked vehicles lined up for Monster Truck Madness sponsored by In And Out Burger. You simply deal with the situation handed to you and get the job done.
If I have to wade through bodies to get what I really want, so be it. If I have to dull a Blade against the mat again, then it is what it is. If I have to educate the new blood on how things really work in the sport, class is in session. If I have to prove in rehearsal to Larry before we dance who runs the floor at the club…
D.J., throw down a nasty beat to kick his rump to.
Life isn’t ideal, but somehow you just gotta deal with it. Get the job done.
I tend to do that, even when conditions aren’t…aaagh…
His stomach finally had enough. Tony nearly doubles over and rushes to the bathroom. This was NOT how he wanted to end this. But when you have what he’s got…
You don’t get to control everything in your life. Just how you deal with it when things spiral.
-
Good lord, this sucks! Damn throat is raw now.
He had another fit of cramping and nausea. Even with his medication, this was rough. What was even tougher to swallow was this disease was going to shorten his career. Oh yeah, he could live a normal life… once he was out of the sport. But the bitter taste of being on limited time in his professional life made the vomit taste like peach cobbler.
His gauze also fell off, showing off that healing sore on his neck. He didn’t even realize it was off until he got to the sink when…
My dad gets sores like that, too. What about the headaches? You get those, too?
Gary was standing by the trash can. How long he was there, Tony couldn’t tell.
Dunno what you're talking about…
Boss, my dad, and grandfather BOTH have Behcet’s disease. I’ve had to spend my childhood watching them struggle with it. Treating their lesions, injecting cortisol in their joints. The headaches…blurry vision.
Bad stuff, man. Forced Dad to retire from the Air Force because of it. Too much of a risk for a stroke for Uncle Sam.
No point trying to lie to the camera jockey; he knows his stuff too well.
I would have thought I’d be done in during a match. All the crazy stunts, the constant fighting…the lunatics trying to kill me.
I thought the rigors of the industry would put me out to pasture. Turns out some disease I never heard of until 4 weeks ago would accelerate the endgame.
In the middle of a career renaissance too. Figures.
It stung his pride, knowing his own body’s finishing the job. With all that care he put in keeping healthy, his own physiology was doing what no opponent could do.
Hence, the sense of urgency lately. He simply didn’t have time to be patient anymore. A year, maybe 2, then it’d be time to close up shop.
Get as much as you can. There really was no guarantee of tomorrow for him.
Gary, right?
Yeah.
Did you ever have to give your pops inflammatory shots?
At least once a day. I can pretty much work that syringe in the dark.
Good. My hands are throbbing. The kit’s in my bag.
I gotcha!
The new reality: it was coming to an end soon. All he could do was accomplish what he could before it was over.
He didn’t expect to gain an ally in a bathroom in San Diego. Not in his plan. But as Gary shot him up and the swelling began to subside…
Sometimes, Tony realized, going off the script wasn’t a bad idea.
