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The Collector · (06-22-2020)

The Henry Mansion
Scarsdale, New York

I suppose the life I lead now needs a bit of a reintroduction of sorts considering that the last time anyone saw me was as I was preparing for my XWF debut. I never even got a chance to make y’all love me and that’s a regrettable fact. My debut was so forgettable that even I don’t remember it.

I lost.

Probably.

For the statisticians sake, let's just assume I did, okay?

Anyway, my name is Jameson Henry. Everyone calls me Jaime. My grandfather is Alister Henry, a kingpin of sorts in New York. He’s ruthless. Cunning. Cold. Calculated. Actually, he’s the polar opposite of me so I really don’t understand why I care so much about him, especially when even a year ago, I didn’t even know him.

I’m ‘The Collector,’ sure, but I am none of those things. I do unspeakable things in the name of business, but its just that: business. My marks know that. Pap knows that, too. More important than either of them though, is that I know that. Does it make the things I do okay? Not for a second. I’m not a fool. But knowing the real me on the inside isn’t the person I pretend to be at times on the outside helps me sleep at night.

As I said, it's nothing personal, it's just business and I do what I have to do. A group of people in the 40’s were ‘just following orders’ but that doesn’t exonerate them for the atrocities they committed anymore than it exonerates me. While I’m not persecuting a particular people and I’m not gassing and burning millions, I do some horrific things at times. Always on orders but that doesn’t make it right and it doesn’t make me righteous. Just know that if you see me do something horrific, it’s not because I want to. It’s because I have a job to do. And because it’s effective.

And I’m good at it.

Mostly.

”You’re going back to the wrestling gig I take it?” asks Alister Henry as he enters his office where I’ve been waiting for nearly twenty minutes.

Alister Henry
Maternal Grandfather
King of New York

”How’d you know?” I ask with a smile that he can’t see and an altered voice that he hates so much.

”That ridiculous mask, imbecile,” he states stoically. He’s… not a mincer of words. ”You haven’t wrestled in six months and I haven’t seen you wear that in six months.

“At least not here at home.”

Ignoring his insults I hop off the chair across the room and reach into my jacket pocket and retrieve three different envelopes stuffed with cash and set them in front of him on his desk. He barely acknowledges their existence aside from opening his desk drawer and dropping them inside before slamming it shut.

”Mrs. Bartlett, Miss Hudson and Mr. Helling.

“All paid in full.”

He nods his head as he takes out his register.

”Aren’t you gonna count it?”

He doesn’t lift his head, only his eyes as he peers at me over the rim of his reading glasses.

”Do I need to?”

I sigh deeply.

”No,” I reply. ”It’s all there.”

He peers back down at his papers.

”Then why do I need to count it?”

”Why do you trust me implicitly?”

”You are a man of your word. You have never not delivered,” he starts to explain. ”I have no living children and you’re the only grandchild I have that acknowledges my existence. I’ll need someone to take over for me after I’m gone.

“If that’s something you want to do, of course.”

Fuck.

Not again.

People thrusting their lives onto me.

I didn’t ask for any of this.

But also I sorta did.

It’s complicated.

”Mr. Helling… I had to get a little rough with,” I inform him as I spin the globe around that rests on his walnut credenza, trying desperately to change the subject.

”And he paid in full with interest?”

I nod.

”Good.

“Let him remember that the next time he decides on his own that it’s okay to fall two weeks behind on his obligations.”

”I don’t want to run the business, Pap.”

I said it out loud. Actually, I said it in my head, but I unknowingly said it out loud. It’s been happening a little bit lately. I think I’m thinking things not realizing I’m also saying them out loud.

”That’s disappointing.

“I was hoping you’d say yes to it. Your grandmother will need help.”

My “grandmother” if you must know, is NOT my mothers biological mother and I have a really hard time calling her Grandma, so mostly I just call her Lizzy.

Also she’s 30.

”He’s 68. It’s not like he’s dying tomorrow.”

”You’re doing it again, Jaime,” he informs me. ”Have you gone to see that quack yet?”

”Twice a week.”

”In that ridiculous mask?”

”Yes.”

”Is it helping you any?”

I sigh.

”Not particularly, no.”

”Then why continue?”

To be honest, I have so many things I need to get off my chest. I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders despite leaving behind the life I used to know. Is that part of what’s weighing on me? Maybe. Probably.

But…

I just don’t want to go back. I miss my family, my friends... but at the same time they need me to be something I don’t want to be. Someone I don’t want to be. Maybe its cruel and heartless. Maybe I’m entirely wrong. Despite my disappearance from that world and that life, one call, one text from any of them in need is all it would take for me to drop this charade and go running to help.

I can’t not help. It’s really not in my make up as a human being to deny my help to those that I love.

”Boys, dinner in five,” Lizzy, my Pap’s wife, says as she pokes her head into his office.

Elizabeth "Lizzy" Henry
Grandmother by marriage
So hot
Totally unfair

”What’s on the menu, my dear?” he asks.

”God she’s so fucking hot,” I blurt out. My eyes grow wide beneath the mask. Partially embarrassed, partially ashamed. That’s my grandfathers wife for fucks sake. Why do my thoughts suddenly become verbal at the wrongest fucking times?

Alister grunts his disapproval.

”Stuffed peppers,” she answers.

”I don’t like stuffed peppers.”

”...he does,” she replies with a smile, pointing in my direction.

God dammit.

Lizzy disappears as quickly as she arrived.

”Don’t get any ideas, boy,” he warns. ”She’s a handful.”

”I-I-I didn’t mean to say that! It just came out!”

”I believe you,” he says as he goes back to his papers.

”I mean, should I apologize to her?” He doesn’t answer and honestly, I didn’t wait for him to do so. ”I’m gonna apologize.”

I quickly make my way through the hallway toward the kitchen. Lizzy is pulling a large heavy tray of stuffed peppers from the oven. She almost spills it over but I quickly grab a pot holder and help her lay the tray on the counter.

”Thank you honey,” she says as she slams the oven door shut. ”I might have lost our dinner if it weren’t for you.

“What luck!”

”Lizzy listen… Umm, I’m sorry about… well, you know...” I stammer. I’m still madly embarrassed. Desperately ashamed. I'm not sure which one I feel more.

She giggles.

”Oh don’t be ridiculous.” she says with a shrug. ”You’re a sweet man, Jaime. And I’ve seen you without that mask. Who knows? If circumstances were different, maybe I’d be married to the hot grandson,” she concludes as she exits the kitchen into the dining room.

Son of a bitch! What have I done!?

I look over to my left and my grandfather is standing in the doorway. I have no idea what he heard or didn’t hear, so I stand there leaning against the counter top growing more and more uncomfortable as my awkwardness intensifies.

”Uh ha!”

What?

What the fuck else was I gonna say?

"I watched a Gage Gannon promo for two minutes..."

"Sir..."

"And I already know how this goes. I've seen this same old song and dance before and..."

"YO JAIME!" shouts the XWF staffer, getting my attention.

"I'm in the middle of a fuckin' promo dude, what the fuck do you want?"

"Voice thing."

I consider what he says for a second and it occurs to me what the hell he's on about. I didn't turn on my voice disguising thingy.

Fuck.

Spoiler alert: Don't say my real name.

CLICK.

"As I was saying before that rather unkind interruption, I've seen this song and dance. If I've seen it once, I've seen it a hundred times. Gannon open's his mouth and spews useless drivel bitching about this bitch or that cunt interfering rather than just doing something about it. Every plight and every cross word or action does not require a verbal response.

"Then again, that's the game we play, isn't it?

"Despite Gage's insistence that this isn't a game, it is in fact a game. Not one where you turn on the TV or log into a computer, but it is a game of chess. Man versus man, each trying to out maneuver, out think, out smart, out wit the other. Verbal assaults are part of that game to be sure, but still. Man up, nut up, shut up and physically decimate what ails you.

"I haven't been around in six months. If I'm being honest, six months without physicality, at least on a scale that the XWF provides, leaves me a little frustrated and chomping at the bit to get back into the fray. I like kicking ass. I like my name in lights. I like the fans screaming my name and cheering me on. I like getting my ass kicked, too. It makes me feel alive. Human. It makes me feel like a normal god damned person of which I am not.

"Not even a little, but that's another story for another time.

"I'm hungry.

"Hungry for competition. For the admiration of my... fans. For my hand being raised in victory. To once again wear championship gold. I'm hungrier than I have ever been and that's not good news for Gage Gannon. It's not good news for those residing all too comfortably in the XWF. It is however, good news for me. A hungry me is a dangerous me.

"Scoff if you will, laugh if you wish. Despite my outward appearance, the name, the music, the mask... all of it... I am a rather accomplished veteran in this business with a few golden trinkets on my classified resume. The fact is, my old life was overwhelming and I'm ready for the next one.

"Doubt me if you will, it's your funeral."

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