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The Collector · (07-14-2020)

The Henry Mansion
Scarsdale, New York

It felt good to do what I did for Mr. Rickle and his son. To be perfectly honest, I miss philanthropy nearly as much as I miss my friends and family. I mean, I still do it, but for obvious reasons, I can’t really do it in person. It really gets my heart pumping to do good for others. What’s more is I helped a sweet little boy in the process. I don’t do it for the newspapers or television shows to talk about despite the fact that they do it. It’s not about the fame and notoriety. It’s about giving those with nothing a hand up. It’s about making sure fewer children go to bed with empty stomachs.

I have money.

They don’t.

If you have all the money and choose to keep it, then you don’t deserve it. Farkle Minkus would be proud.

Stop judging me.

Today is the day. I haven’t been to the Henry Mansion since the day I wrote that check for Mr. Rickle. Today, I return. I have been avoiding this particular confrontation and it isn’t out of fear of Alister Henry, I could make him disappear and no one would find him. Ever. It’s just that this lie I’m living is growing more fragile by the minute. He might push me to the brink and I’m not sure I’m ready yet.

”Something is bothering me about the Rickle account, Jaime,” Alister Henry says as he paces in front of his desk. He’s a man that is usually calm and stoic, even when he’s angry. This has me… scared isn’t the word, he doesn’t scare me. I’ve been shot at and shot down. Alister, in the grand scheme of my life, is small potatoes. It’s just unsettling.

”What about it?” I ask him, knowing full well Alister isn’t an idiot and has caught on to my little game.

”He paid… in full?” he inquires as he stops pacing and places his hands on his hips.

”Every red cent,” I lied. I mean, Keith did pay, but I gave him the money to do it.

”He was late on his obligations to me, to this family,” Alister says, his voice raising a few octaves.

”I guess he was busy and just forgot.”

”I doubt that very seriously,” he says as he makes his way around his desk and sits in his chair.

”What other explanation could there be?” I am SO bad at this.

”Keith Rickle is an executive in a local tire chain. He’s not the CEO of Goldman Sachs.”

I say nothing.

”The man brings in less than a hundred grand a year and you expect me to believe he was able to pull a quarter million out of his ass?”

It’s a fair question. He knows I’m lying. I know I’m lying. He knows that I know that he knows I’m lying. Did you follow that? I might’ve taken a wrong turn.

Suddenly my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull the phone out and read the text:

OMG I need your help! Irish Bank in Hartsdale. Don’t tell Al

What is it boy!? Lizzy’s in trouble!? She fell in a well!?

”You paid it, didn’t you?”

I don’t answer him immediately. I have Lizzy on the brain and now I just want out of this conversation so I can go help her.

”Yeah I paid it,” I answer him finally and truthfully. ”His kid wasn’t supposed to be there but he was. I talked with him for awhile until Keith woke up and I like the boy. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t.

“It’s done and I for one, feel fanfuckingtastic about it.

“Don’t like it, get another collector.”

Alister slams his fists down on his desk.

”THIS IS NOT A GAME, JAMESON!”

If I’m being honest, that name is really starting to grate on me.

”It was one time, Alister! For fucks sake! There’s more to this world than greed and money.”

”How many others have you paid out of your bleeding god damn heart, boy?”

A few.

”What does it matter? You get your money at 200% interest. People have their stress relieved and their debts cleared and everyone is happy.

“These are good people, Alister.”

”There are rules...”

”Oh right I forgot, the famous loan shark code of honor,” I say sarcastically.

”You are out of line!”

”Actually, I’m out of here. I gotta go,” I say as I promptly jump out of the chair and head for the door.

”We’re not done here!”

I didn’t even reply. Elizabeth still needs my help. I was fuming for the entire drive to Hartsdale. It’s literally less than two miles so I wasn’t fuming long. Alister Henry is a bit of a cunt.

I walk into the bar and scan the small crowd before finally spotting Elizabeth all by herself at a corner table. We spot each other almost simultaneously.

”Jaime! Over here!” she cries out and I rush over to her.

”What is it!? Are you okay!?”

”Relax,” she says with a laugh. ”The girls ditched me, I just wanted someone to hang out with.”

”And you chose me,” I say with a smile as I sit across the table from her. Fuck you Doctor DeVille. ‘Ohhhh maybe she was just bein’ nice.’ Dumb ass bitch. Where’d you get your degree anyway, Trump University? I know, I know… he’s alright.

”Yeah, why not? You’re fun. You’re sweet. You’re not your grandfather… All the things I look for when I go out.”

”Are you drunk?” I ask, looking at her tumbler of clear liquid and ice.

She laughs and slides her drink toward me.

”Sprite. I don’t drink alcohol.”

”I believe you,” I reply as I slide it back to her. ”I just got into it a little bit with Dear Grandfather when you text me.”

”What’d you do? Give him crushed ice instead of cubed?” she jokes.

”I paid off an account,” I say with a smile that she can’t see. This mask shit has got to go.

”Gee thanks. Now I’m sure I’ll hear all about it tonight.”

”Sorry.”

”Tell me, Mister Mysterious,” she says after a sip of her Sprite. ”What is it about Alister Henry that made you give up the thrilling life you used to know?”

I consider her question for a moment. The short answer is that it allows me to be anonymous in a world where people both in and out of the wrestling world recognize my face. The long answer, the real answer, is far more complicated than that.

”That’s a hard question,” I finally reply.

”Is it though?”

”It really doesn’t have anything to do with Alister.”

”So you’re using him,” she surmises.

”...no?” Yeah I am. ”Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not using him for evil purposes or anything so it’s nothing sinister.”

”I don’t know you like I know him, but sinister or evil isn’t in your make up. That’s not you.”

”It isn’t, no.”

”This life isn’t gonna work, you do know that?”

”I figured I’d ride it out as long as it holds up.”

”Why the mask?”

I sit up straight, feigning shock.

”Covid 19, dude!” I joke.

”Oh please!” she laughs. ”You’ve been wearing that for the better part of a year!”

”People know my face,” I say with complete sincerity.

”People love your face.”

Also true.

”Why are you running from who you are?”

Know what? She’s way better than Doctor DeVille. Definitely cuter.

”You’re still you under there. Nothing has changed except who you associate with. I can’t even imagine you’re hiding it very well in your wrestling work, either. If I was to put money on it, I’d bet 90% of those you interact with know EXACTLY who you are under that mask.”

I say nothing, but honestly, I’m taking what she’s saying to heart.

”You’re such an awesome, witty, intelligent, good looking guy. You’re so good hearted, you’re generous, and people just fucking adore you. Why pretend you’re someone else?”

Silence, again.

”I want answers!”

”I was born into an extremely powerful family,” I say, beginning my story. ”You think Alister Henry has power? My family makes him look like a local deli owner by comparison.”

”I know all that.”

”I took control of the family business, so to speak, out of necessity, not out of desire for leadership. Ever since, I’ve been running and searching for a way out.”

”You can’t just dissolve the business?”

”I could, but then that leaves it vulnerable to my father retaking the reigns,”
I say before stealing a sip of her Sprite. ”He’s already warned me that he would.”

”So let him,” she suggests.

”I can’t,” I reply. ”It’d mean his certain death.”

”Whose death?”

”My father.”

”So you do all these things you don’t want to do in order to spare trouble or hardship to those you love...” she concludes on her own.

”And now I’m here.

“In a mask.

“With you.”

I could do worse, honestly.

”Who runs the business now?”

”My right hand man,” I reply.

”He never seeks your input?”

”About once a week, on average.”

”So you hide behind the mask pretending to be someone you’re not while running from the life you belong to… just to still be the point man, despite all your running and hiding?” she asks before sipping her Sprite. She can stop making sense any time now.

”It sounds stupid when you put it that way.”

”It is stupid,” she answers with an honesty I admire. ”Stop pretending to be someone you’re not meant to be! Take off the mask and let the man live!”

I consider what she thinks, how she thinks. No amount of hiding behind this mask truly changes who I really am. I turn off its lights and remove the mask, laying it on the table. I don’t give the signal to pixelate, but the boys behind the camera are kind enough to keep the view pointed at my back.

”That’s so much better,” she says with a sigh and a beautiful smile, making me laugh a little. ”Now, can I call you by your name?”

”Baby steps darlin’,” I answer with a wide grin.

”Oh my God that face!”

Just then, someone plays an Ed Sheeran song and she gasps.

”Oh em gee!”

”What’s the matter?”

”I fucking LOVE this song!”

She grabs me by the hand and pulls me toward the middle of the floor.

”C’mon! We’re dancin’.”

If I said there was no electricity, no spark, when she grabbed my hand I’d be lying. I like her. A lot. Her technically being my grandmother certainly adds a complication to this budding friendship.

...Or is it more?

On the floor, I place my hands on her hips, she wraps hers around my neck and we sway back and forth, doing nothing but staring into each others eyes. As the song plays and her and I sway, without even realizing it, I start to sing the song.

To her? Just because I enjoy singing and I know the lyrics? To be fair, I am not a great singer. I’m not terrible either. I could do well in a karaoke contest probably.

”BABYYYY I’m…

“Daaancing iiin the darrrk…

“With yooou betweeeen my arms…

“Barrrefooot ooonn the graaass…

“Listenin’ tooo our favorite song…

“When I saww you iiin that dress…

“Lookin’ so beauuutifulll…

“I don’t deeeserrrrve thissss…

“Darlin’ yoouu look perrrfect tonight!”

I noticed, but said nothing and I didn’t react. As I was singing to her… yeah… it was definitely to her… she was twirling the back of my hair in her fingers and her facial expression changed from just jovial over her favorite song, to… I don’t know how to describe it other than to say she’s feeling it too.

”You do deserve it,” she says as the song ends and no more songs are in cue. Yet we continue to sway back and forth. ”...and so do I.”

With zero warning, she grabs the back of my head and pulls my lips to hers.

I don’t resist.

I couldn’t resist.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wanted to do that since the day I laid my eyes on her for the first time. I have kissed before, loved before, all of it. But this… was different. Is it love or is it lust? Is it the danger factor of loving on another mans wife?

...Or is it something more?

I said on twitter that I’d talk about James Raven in my next promo and I’m nothing, if not a man of my word. James Raven is the god damn GOAT and there’s no doubts whatsoever about that. That man paved the way for people like me to shine beneath the brightest of lights and here he is in his early forties still kicking ass and cashing checks.

I had a certain respect and admiration for him since long before I ever stepped foot in the ring with him. Facing him on Savage a couple years back only reinforced my adoration of him. I was but a teenager in a mans game and James gave me and everyone that was watching, a five star fucking performance that culminated in him handing me my first legitimate pinfall defeat… and I’m proud of it. You heard me correctly, I was proud to lose to James Raven. No matter the wins I’ve had, or the titles I draped over my shoulder, that’s the moment that stands out to me.

A loss.

Significant because despite taking the L, I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could stand face to face with the best of the best, that I could go toe to toe with the greatest of all time, lose, and come out of it an even bigger star than I was going in.

See, that’s what makes people like Raven so irreplaceable. That’s what makes people like him priceless in this business. A boy can go into a match with him and come out a man. You can go into a match with him, lose, and come out all the better for it. That’s what it is to be the GOAT. Making those you face, better for having faced you.

Where’s your admirers, Evan?

Where’s your titles and accolades?

Where’s your list of greatest matches?

You’re close in age to James Raven, you’re a veteran like James Raven, yet no one has ever fucking heard of you. Why? Because you’ve never done anything in your career that was noteworthy. You don’t have a long list of admirers because you never earned them. You don’t have a list of titles you’ve won or accolades you’ve achieved throughout your career because no matter what you might have achieved, it was never in front of millions on the grandest stage ever created in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation.

She isn’t perfect. She certainly has her faults, but she belongs to us and we love her unconditionally.

I’m a messed up man. I don’t mean I’m cruel or heartless, one look at a promo of mine tells you quite the opposite. I mean that I’m a head case. I fight battles in my own head quite often and sometimes, the dark side wins. What I mean, is that I once convinced myself that the ‘she’ I’ve been referring to, the XWF, was my enemy and the people that run her controls were out to get me. Call it paranoia, call me crazy, do whatever you like. The fact is, the problems I had with her and those that run her, were problems largely of my own creation.

Why am I telling you this?

Because my head is clearer than its ever been and the one thing that stands out above the rest, the one blip on the radar screen that I keep looking at out of the corner of my eye, the one star in a cloudless night sky is that everything I have gone through, thinking I hated the XWF and thinking she hated me back and me going out to start other companies and wrestle for other organizations, the one thing that is abundantly clear to me, is that all of it has lead me to this exact moment and I’m right where I was supposed to be all along.

Home.

I missed her. It’s clear to me she missed me too. I am home again, I’m hungry again, I’m near the top of my game again and that’s a perfect storm for you Evan Jackson. I don’t plan on my star fading any time soon. I don’t plan on you being anything more than a small pot hole on my way to the top of this company and by default, this industry. I’m not steering around you, old man. I’m driving right over you.

Remember who is to blame for your immediate downfall in this company, Evan. It’s the fat boy in the white hat and probably a bucket of KFC in his lap.

I’mma write you a check, Evan. Not because I like you, I don’t. But maybe you can use that money to go buy a personality and someone to train you in the finer things of the wrestling business that clearly you know nothing about. It’s time you recognized that whatever you’ve learned on your road to the XWF, just isn’t enough.

If your goal when you came here was to be a big bright star, then you’ve failed. You’re the Jupiter of stars. All gas and no fire. Not even a star at all. Far too small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. If your goal was to be fed to far bigger, far brighter stars that were large enough to ignite, then my friend, mission accomplished.

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