“Who the fuck is this shine again?”

Eric shakes his head in annoyance, his crown shining, the color of not quite ripened tomatoes. For a moment, Eddie thinks of his grandmother’s windowsill.

“He’s like an agent. He’s great on the mic, I’ve heard him cut promo’s in other companies.” Eddie could tell Eric that this guy managed Rocky Marciano, and Eric would still look at him like he had a toddler’s underwear wrapped around his face.

“I don’t fuckin’ trust him.” Eric spies the man through his office window, sitting behind his IKEA bought desk, leaning back in a twenty year old chair. Items meant to be temporary, their lives extended by Eric’s handiness and preference for simplicity. “Look at this motherfucker.”

Eddie turns around slowly, eyeing the abomination disgracing his gym, Madonna fingering herself on the tabernacle of his church. It’s not about the fact that he’s black, it’s about the fact that he’s wearing a faux Armani suit with a faux Rolex, driving a leased Ferarri, and promising Eddie things he can’t possibly deliver. Clinton types away on his iPhone, pretending not to listen to the conversation taking place in Eric’s office.

“Everything about this piece of shit is false,” Eric says, wagging a finger. “Just like his promises.”

Eddie huffs, exhausted. He’s never been the best shit-talker, especially amongst his group of friends, and he’s about to begin a career that requires you to be articulate, quick witted, sharp tongued, and ready to verbally eviscerate an opponent at a moment’s notice in order to promote yourself and the matchup. The mic work is still new, and Eddie hasn’t become comfortable talking in front of a crowd. Clinton Sparks was his solution to that problem.

“Can’t we just give him a chance? I can always fire him, right?”

Eric lets out a loud guaffaw. How could Eddie be this oblivious to the practices of contracting in the wrestling industry?

“I feel like Cus right now, just watching the vultures fly overhead, waiting to get to Tyson.”

Eddie shrugs. Eric is the father that he’s never had, and is responsible for every success he’s had as an adult. He pushed him to join the Army, he tried to keep him away from wrestling when he came back, and when Eric realized that Eddie was going to pursue this career no matter what, Eric didn’t hold back. Eddie appreciated the hell out of that. If it weren’t for Eric, Eddie would be pulling night shifts at Fenway, working security or something equally as demeaning.

“You’ve taught me better than that.”

“Apparently not fuckin’ well enough to keep you from hiring this fuckin’ reincarnated version of fuckin’ Don King.”

Eddie smirks.

“Don King ain’t dead yet and this guy isn’t going to manage shit. He’s just a mouthpiece.”

Eric rubs the top of his head for a moment, distorting the wrinkles on his forehead. They crash into each other like tectonic plates, each pushing for its own space on his skull.

“You use him until you’re ready, and you don’t let him get near a fuckin’ contract, ya hear me?” He raises his eyebrows and turns his ear towards Eddie in anticipation of an oath.

“I use him until I’m ready and I don’t let him near a fuckin’ contract.” Eddie salutes Eric without realizing it, a sign of respect built into his muscle memory. It’s then that he realizes how much of the service is still ingrained in him. He remembers it like an addict remembers heroin.

“Don’t say I didn’t fuckin’ warn ya.” Eric says, dread in his heart, tears nearly forming in his eyes. He’s a father watching his son getting ready to leave the nest, heading off into the big, bad world, where monsters lie. For a moment, he and Clinton lock eyes, two wolves challenging each other from a great distance, afraid to make noise. Neither want to scare away the sheep.

Eddie smirks as he opens the office door for Clinton.

“You’re in!”

Clinton embraces Eddie.

“You ain’t gonna regret it. We takin’ over”

They lock eyes again as Eddie and Clinton head out of the gym. Eric gives him a nod, but Clint just smiles, his teeth white and impossibly sharp. Eric glances at the calendar, spying the lunar cycle. He’s not surprised to learn that there’ll be a full moon tonight.