“Wasn’t my call.”

Turning, I handed Elm a box I had been holding. He took it and proceeded towards the front door of the bar I bought in Chicago. I bought it but I gave it to Sloane’s Father, Patrick. Her biological Father who she only in the last year had she even known about. Good dude. He was behind the bar and as I turned back to him, he slapped a hand towel up over his left shoulder.

“You two should talk!” He blurted out like the idea hadn't been thought of. Like talking things through would somehow solve what took place. I shook my head before taking a seat on one of the bar stools. “I can call her over!” He added.

“Nah.. Leave her be.”

Thinking about the real reason I came here. What I planned to do. I almost wanted to tell him but he would panic. He would call her and tell her and that would be a whole other thing. I didn't want her to think this was an act of defiance or something.. This was long overdue.

“So it's just a couple of boxes and a gas can? What are you up to anyway?”

Shrugging, I figured he would eventually ask. “Just stocking up. Never know when there will be an Uprising..”

“Uprising?” He questions with a puzzled look on his face. I like Patrick, I do. I was looking forward to experiencing a ‘Family’ and being happy and he was getting his shot to be as well.

“Zombie Apocalypse, War, I am looking into Underground Bunkers as well.”

I said it with as much sarcasm as I could find in a casual setting but Patrick just nodded and his eyebrow raised on the left. He thought me to have turned looney.

“I’m joking, Patrick.. Geez.”

His face changed to relief as he pulled the towel from his shoulder and wiped down a part of the counter top. He really jumped into this better life. A lowly conman who found out about Sloane and.. He wanted it and is working for it, to be a good Father. Slapping the counter as Elm comes back in for another box, I knew it was time to leave.

“You get that paperwork turned in, make it official.” I told him as I stood up, threw my arms out at both sides and turned to view the whole room of the bar. “This is ALL yours now!”

“Hey..” He says as he hurries around the bar and comes in for a hug. I embraced him and I dunno if it's PTSD but I got tense. As if the flashback of being stabbed filled my gut and made it drop. I squeezed him tighter. “Thank you.. And listen..” We came apart and he stepped back but kept in front of me. “If she doesn't smile the way she did with you around, I’m locking you both into a room. I don't care!”

I chuckled as did Patrick. Offering him a handshake, he grabs it with a strong grip. A firm shake and he slaps the outside of my arm. “You take care.” I told him. “Of yourself and those Daughters of yours..” I add.

“Will do.” He said with a cracking voice. “You as well!”

Nodding to him, I grab the last box on the ground. There were four in total plus a gas. I had plans for it all but right now, at this moment? I was saying goodbye.

“It's a good thing you grabbed an SUV. These are a lot of bottles, man!”

Elm states the obvious as I slide in the last box into the trunk space. Closing it up and climbing into the driver seat, I pull the door closed. “You ready for this drive?” I asked in part because I was asking myself as well.

“I am and check it out..” Trying to show me the screen of his phone. “I googled how to make Molotovs!”

Turning to him, I see the screen and immediately snatch up his phone. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” I scold him as I roll down my window and toss his phone out of the vehicle.

“Hey!!” The sound of disappointment and pitch came from his mouth. “What did you do that for?!”

“Don't google criminal shit on your own phone.” I say, shaking my head.

“Okay, can I borrow yours?” He asks.

“It’s gonna be a loooong drive…” I mutter with a sigh.



Wisconsin.
.
..

I knew the drive was going to take roughly 19 hours and some change. IF you were doing it in a straight shot. No sooner than when we got into Wisconsin, Elm wanted to stop.

“Man, my butt hurts!”

“These seats are comfortable and heated! What the fuck are you complaining about, PASSENGER?”

“I’m hungry!” He says as if he was just going down a list of common complaints during a road trip. “Don't they have good cheese here?”

Seeing an exit with a number of businesses advertised, I hit the turn signal and pulled into the right lane to take the exit.

“I should have just done this solo..”

“Someone has to have your back.. This is no joke, it's a dangerous game you are playing right now.”

I gave his comments a single chuckle. “I don't need a bodyguard..”

“How many times has this guy drugged you already?” He had a point.

“The first time he did, my bodyguard was in the room sleeping.. Sooo…” I countered with my own point.

“Well, I’m here, so I’m helping.” He states and looks out his window as he pulls into a small business area. “I am hungry though!”

“I could eat..” I realized it had been almost two days since I ate anything real. I chalked it up to my ‘Fan’ and his warning. Must be the reason.

After grabbing a bite to eat, I paid the bill and headed to the bathroom. I hated the air dryers so I used my shirt to dry my hands and as I came out of the bathroom, I couldn't see where Elm had run off to.

“I will leave this fucker..”

With nobody to hear me, I was just informing myself of this truth. I would leave him. Right now I don't feel like having anyone around but he was right. I needed some help taking care of this and I was grateful he was volunteering. “ELM!” I shouted as I stepped outside of the diner and looked around.

Checking towards the rental, he wasn't in there. Turning in a full circle, I looked everywhere the eyes could see. No sign of this street urchin. Giving up my search, I get in the car and spark up a blunt. I had a full stock of them for the trip and was no doubt going to need to roll more before Montana.

“He thinks I won't leave him.. Haaaa! Think again!” Digging into my pocket for the keys, I came up empty handed. Patting my other pocket, they weren't there either. “Keys, keys, where are my keys?” I checked the glove compartment, the visor, the middle compartment between the front seats, no keys. “He has my keys!”

After what seemed like an hour waiting. Waiting and smoking, I pulled back like two blunts during the wait. Elm opened the passenger door and climbed in with a few bags of food. “Keys?” I asked but not really in a question. My hand reached out with an open palm. He drops them into my hand.

“Sorry, I met someone..” It was then I noticed his smile hadn't faded since he got in the car.

“Oh yeah? Someone who?” I didn't really care but asked anyway. Starting the vehicle, I was ready to get back on the road.

“Smell this!” His index finger slaps across my upper lip and I slammed on the brakes. “She was special!”

“Ugh! That's how you get STDs. Don't play..”

He laughed and then started smelling his own fingers. I really wanted to arrive at our destination already. We still had a ways to go..



Minnesota.
.
..

“And I know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do
And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to!”

Holding his hand over his mouth, Elm was laid back in the backseat. A phone in his hand, he was recording as Cashe was behind the wheel, singing.

“Cause there we are again in the middle of the night
We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light
Down the stairs, I was there
I remember it all too well, yeah
And maybe we got lost in translation..

Maybe I asked for too much
But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up
Running scared, I was there
I remember it all too well!”

Turning the phone to face himself, Elm laughed as hard as he could without making any noise. As far as Cashe knew, Elm was sleeping. Sitting up in his recline, Elm leaps into the front seat as Cashe scrambles to change the music. Elm keeps recording as he finally is able to laugh out loud.

“Is that Tay Tay!?” Elm chuckles.

“It was just playing, ok?” Cashe tries to find the words for an excuse. “I haven't cleared my playlist and..” Nodding as he adds a finish to his plea of innocence. “She was always adding music to my shit!”

“Uh huh! So ummm..” Elm adjusts the phone so it gets a close up of Cashe. “Why were you singing?” Again, the protege to Jason Cashe begins laughing hysterically.

“You can't prove that, soo..”

“Technically, I can!” He corrects Cashe and wiggles the phone as Cashe glances to see it. “Say hi!” Elm barks with laughter.

Quickly, Cashe snatches the phone and chucks it out of the window. “No more phones, sorry..”

“That was your phone..” Elm informed him. “You tossed mine back in Chicago, remember?”

On I-94 and heading west, Cashe slams on the brakes as the SUV skids along the pavement. It was night time and there was hardly anyone else on the road. Looking over at Elm, Cashe seemed furious about the situation. Elm just shrugs.

“Maybe you shouldn't throw phones out of windows.. I’m just saying!”

Pulling over to the side of the road, Cashe puts on the hazard lights and exits the rental. He had a phone to find.



North Dakota.
.
..

I had a good stretch of road behind me. Hours upon hours of uninterrupted highway which could take your mind elsewhere after a while. The reflective lights on the road zipping by and the horizon were consistent. For me, it was time to reflect. To have those arguments with myself and really try to figure shit out. What went wrong? Was it all just a waste of time? Am I just not as lovable as I thought?

Let's not get hasty.. I smiled at my own inner punchline. Looking over, Elm was waking up snuggled in the passenger seat. After wiping his mouth and eyes, he looks around and glances over at me.

“Where are we?” He yawns behind his words.

“North Dakota.”

Cracking my window, I use my elbows to steer as I gather up a cone and a lighter. I knew Elm didn't smoke, the boy didn't cuss but that wasn't going to stop me from doing either. “I have a question.” He abruptly asks.

“What's up?” Tossing the lighter back in the empty cup holder, I give my protege a look.

“Are we friends?”

“Oof.. Ummm…” I wasn't sure how to answer that. “Sure.”

“Sure?” He scoffs. “I’ve noticed that you don't HAVE many friends, if any at all..”

Pulling in an inhale from the cone, I shot him a stare that led with a grin but I wouldn't call it a smile. “Woke up with jabs did ya?”

“I’m just saying..” As if the thoughts and words he wanted to say were still churning, he filled the air with an attempt. “Name one friend that you talk to daily? Just one.”

I couldn't. I didn't even need to think about it and not a single name came to mind.

“Got me.”

“Even your family.. Who talks to you on a regular basis? Don't you have a Sister?”

“Three of them technically.” I cleared up any confusion by adding. “Amber Ryan, Kat Jones and Echo Layne.”

“Echo was that blonde from the party, right?” His grin turned into a snickering laugh. “The Divorce party!”

“It was an annulment but same-same. No longer married.”

“Right.. And when was the last time you talked to her? Or seen Kat and Amber in person for that matter?”

This kid was laying down the questions. I never agreed to 21 and he was pushing into a more private, personal side of the inquiries.

“What are you getting at, kid?” Sticking the burning tip of the cone out of the window, the passing wind takes the excess ashes off.

“I’m just saying..” Now he wanted to hesitate. “It seems lonely.”

“Motherfucker you a homeless orphan!” I may have raised my voice.

“And?” Sitting up in the seat, he was getting antsy. “I have plenty of friends!”

“Other homeless people?”

“Homeless or not, it's more people than you have!”

Shooting him the finger, I kept the cone hanging from between my lips and my eyes on the road. What he said didn't hurt my feelings but there was probably some truth to it.

“I guess in our own way, we’re both strays..”

“I like that, strays!” Elm seemed more excited at the random title of it than I intended for him to be. “And you answered my question!”

“How's that?” I didn't get it.

“If we're both strays, we must be friends, right?” His logic was logical and I didn't like it. Then again, he was here when it seemed everyone else wanted distance. If I had to dispose of a body, he would only be the second person to know where I have dug a few holes. “You’ve got a Friend in me!”

“Whatever..” Letting out a chuckle, he could think whatever he wanted. Friends and I never last and in this business, it's dog eat dog and I’m a fucking DiOGee!

“So… Will you introduce me to that Latoya chick then? Friend?”

As the inhale fills my lungs, I turn to give him a glare. All this was a lead in for that? To meet my opponent? Some friend..


“Latoya, I know you don't get on social media. It's not for everyone and in the last five months or so, I have been less active than usual. I thought I was enjoying a path I never assumed I would have in life and it turns out, I was right.

Yet the moment I got word of this coming show, this second round against you? I felt the winds in motion and time would pass and there is nothing none of us can do about it.

So I move on..

After I decided to cut my losses and placed a focus on this match. I tweeted about it. I know you won't see it and probably couldn't care less because you don't do anything but ramble about how much of a force you are while saying XWF Television Championship fifteen fucking times during your random as all fuck house show interview!

How many matches HAVE you won? Where have you been a force? They could have booked you and Razor Blade in a 2 on 1 handicap match for this Title, my Title and guess what? I’d dull his fucking blade and force your head up his ass where it apparently vacations.

Neither one of you is worth a tongue tickle on the tip of a limp dick.

So what I tweeted was simple and a truth you NEED to hear even if telling you anything is like talking to plants that have already died..

Rephrasing a bit, I said: You are essentially an NPC. Barely a side mission. You could NEVER be the Main Character, you could never be the Hero or the Villain. The first Boss in a video game in comparison to you is the Final Boss of a very shitty game. That's a fact! That is your truth..

So in truth, what chance do you have? What purpose do you have to even be in this position? I’ve already beat you and you have done nothing but take Ls since and before that match. What other excuse can someone give as to why you are in a match for a Championship?

XWF Television Championship.

My Championship.

You won't even be close enough to breathe on it. My boy Elm thinks you're fine tho.. He wants to be the string in your thong and told me to tell you that. I need a Men in Black memory eraser now..

Bye..”



Montana.
.
..

It's weird because in the overall scheme of things? This was a risky time to be doing shit like this. What if I get arrested? I would have to forfeit the TV Title to Latoya Hixx.. Geezus the karma that would have to find me for that to happen.

Is it bad that I am more concerned about THAT than the potential, the high potential that he could be expecting me. He could even gain the upperhand. This was HIS house, his place of comfort. If he gets me then.. I mean.. All of us die alone even in a crowded room. I lived plenty of life and honestly, I might deserve this fate.

“Are you asleep right now?!” Elm nudges me.

“No.. Just thinking..” I responded with my head remaining leaned back against the headrest of the driver seat. I did have my eyes closed.

“About what?”

I knew that Elm was getting anxious. Nervous even. We had arrived in Montana, got the bottles and the gas can with gasoline. I knew the plan and yet my mind wondered about every loss I have taken. Every bad decision and regret that I had made not only in sport but in life. If this was the end for me.. Should I say goodbye to people? If I am a stray then who truly would even care?

“Nothing important. Let's go..”

The plan went swimmingly at first. We launched bottles of gasoline at the house. Just wanting to leave a nice coat on the outside. The last bottle was thrown by Elm and he aimed for a window.. It smashed through the glass. I was left standing in the front yard just shaking my head. “Let us Raid!” Elm shouts as he darts to the front door carrying the gas can.

Looking around, we were out here alone. He didn't have any neighbors but we knew he was home, we spotted him after we arrived. I know he was inside but was he prepared? Elm is hoping on the front porch, he hasn't knocked or tried the door yet as he is facing me as I approach.

“Come on! Come on!”

“See if it's ope– HEY!” I tried to give him a heads up as I lunged forward. Reaching out, I was too far away. The front door rips open and as Elm starts to turn around, he is yanked in through the doorway. “Motherfucker!” I roared as I took the 4 stairs of the porch in two steps. Lowering my shoulder, I plow into the front door.

CRACK, POP, THUD!

The door came off the hinges and I felt it on my side. “Ugghh.. Fuck me..” Pushing up, I grunted in pain. There were no lights on inside the house. No pictures on the walls, not even a television that I could see. What I was looking for was movement and found none and heard nothing. “Marco..” I hollered out and it echoed along the walls with no response.

As I got to my feet and stepped out of the door frame on the ground. I heard a voice off to the right of me. A familiar and eerily calm voice.

“... Hello, Jason..”

Almost off of instinct, I leap sideways as a knife swipes at me from within his hand. It comes again and catches my forearm. “Ouch! That REALLY hurt, you dick!” What a time to add an accent to a punchline but I was going at random.

On his third swing of the knife, I slapped his incoming hand down with my left and overhanded with the right, connecting to his temple. He stumbles back, brings the knife into both of his hands and raises it above his head. As he came rushing in, I dropped a shoulder and drove it into his midsection. Lifting him, twisting and slamming him into the ground.

“I got you now, motherfucker!”

I roared down a few repeated punches into his face. His mouth with missing top teeth filled with blood. His smile formed as a third punch landed and I paused. I felt funny and looked down at my right side and found a syringe.

“Goddamnit!” I shouted. With everything I had left and it was fading, my eyes were blinking, wanting to close. I fell off of him and found myself trying to crawl.

“... I did this to myself! My teeth!” His voice picks up with excitement as he gets to his feet. “My nipple!” He stomps down into my back. My crawl ends. “I am a fan of what you WERE! I represent what you were when you were a Killer!”

Aggressively he reaches down, snatches me up from my shirt and pulls me off of the floor. Onto my knees, he gets close to my face with his spitting blood and saliva with his growling inhale/exhale.

“... When you were a kil–”

I found the knife. I placed it as deep as my fading strength would let me. I was drained, drugged and droopy. Into his eyes I stared and his pupils were exploding big. He knew. He felt his own life draining and dropped to his knees.

“Fuck.. You.. Punk, I got you..”

I gasped out the words before collapsing to the side. He fell next to me and I thought the comfort I was feeling was a final peace. I didn't expect that. It felt nice so I just let my eyes shut and accepted it.

.

..

…

I felt the wind blowing against my face. The night air provided a chill that started to sting and might have been what woke me up. Where was I? Was this a highway to hell?

“Heeeey! You should stop letting people drug you..” Elm was behind the wheel. His hand reaches over and pats me to the inside shoulder a few times. “Can't be healthy!”

“What happened?” I struggled with the words but needed to ask the obvious. “Is he dead?”