Sometimes I wish to God I didn’t know now, the things I didn’t know then.

Sunday, November 9, 2014 - 6:00 pm.

((Roxy Cotton and “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane are sitting in a local New Jersey sports bar, watching the New York Giants blow another game against the defending NFL world champs, the Seattle Seahawks. As the raucous crowd slowly quiets over the course of the first three quarters, Loverboy starts to drown his misery with beer after beer.))

I just don’t get it.

Don’t get what, baby?

The Giants! They’re playing like garbage all year. They’re better than that.

Are you sure?

Of course I’m sure! On paper they have some special talent. They have some of the best coaches in the NFL. But when they get on the field, nothing ever seems to go their way!

Why are you even a Giants fan? Aren’t you from Tampa?

What? No. I mean, yes, but not originally. I grew up on Long Island, dude. You know that.

Yeah, I guess I did.

Yeah, man. When I was a kid, my gramma would scream at the TV for players like Mark Bavaro and Lawrence Taylor. It just sort of passed on to me.

I thought that sort of thing usually went from father to son?

Maybe… but my dad was a Jets fan, so I dodged a bullet there, dude.

((Loverboy grabs another beer from the waitress, who also brings a pair of shots for the two lovebirds. Roxy smiles wickedly while Loverboy stares up at the screen, watching another heartbreaking play. Shaking his head, he drains about half of the beer before looking back at Roxy and smiling in spite of himself. How could he not smile with such an angelic woman looking at him in the way that only she could? But, something occurred to him as she lifted the small glass to her lips and made the alcohol inside disappear between her perfect red lips.))

You’re drinking again.

What? What are you talking about Vinnie, we always drink together.

No, no, not always… not in Chicago.

Sure we did. The last night there we spent in the bar, remember? You were singing karaoke and all the old cougars were climbing over themselves to get pictures with you.

Before that, Roxy. When we first got there? Before…. You know…

Yeah. I know.

((Suddenly, something happens on the television that gets the New Jersey crowd pumped. Everyone leaps to their feet and starts cheering… but only for a moment. Then the ball is back in the hands of the Seahawks, and the Giants fans are humbled and quiet again.))

Look at these fans, man. Look at the heartbreak people feel when the teams they root for do badly, dude. This is exactly what I need to keep from happening to all of my fan club members across the world Wednesday night. I mean, they get to see me on top of the world Monday, but nobody wants to see their champions lose, right? Especially when they’re being shafted by management the way Peter, Morbid and I are.

It’s true… they did all seem to decide the three of you needed to lose the belts at all costs, calling in the old guys that used to be so good like that.

Exactly! Theo is a power hungry douchebag, and he manipulated the entire front office to try and get his revenge match against me for what I did to him at Relentless. Combine that with the fact that entire administration was just pissed that I’d awarded the belts to Peter and Morbid, and you get a recipe for a huge fucking over. The problem is, it’s going to completely backfire on them once they get in the ring and realize they aren’t the megastars anymore, that there’s a brighter star in the sky now.

Why do you think they were so upset about the belts, Vinnie?

Fuck if I know, babe. They were gonna just let them sit there and be vacant, I guess, because it’s funnier to shitheads like Shane and Madison to crack jokes about me being a paper champion or how I’ve never defended them, or can’t keep partners… they eat that shit up, man. Once you’re on their shit list they just treat you like a joke and let sexually repressed midgets stalk you everywhere you go. It’s a bad business model.

But baby, it’s not your fault that Lucena and Ryback left you hanging! They have to know that!

Well of course they know that, but the viewers a home don’t know the inside scoop, you know? So they can make it look like I screwed up the team or whatever. You saw when I tried to help Clean win against Pest, even though he barely lifted a finger to win, right? I did that to be a good teammate! Just like I am with Peter and Morbid!

Well, you did hit Zoey with the belt…

Look, that’s water under the bridge. Zoey knows she didn’t do enough to help our team win, man, and she knows she had that shit coming. And the thing is, dude, I was going to give her the match of her career, going to let her prove in front of the whole world that she deserved gold around her waist by having a five-star match with me! We could have torn the roof down, dude, but she took off to play gangster with McBride instead. What was I supposed to do? I chose two of the best the XWF had to offer and I gave them something they deserved. It just eats the front office alive when you do something they didn’t think of first, that’s all. They treat the Universal Title like a worthless piece of garbage, letting whoever the hell feels like it cash in and hold it for a few weeks just to try and bait and switch the fans into higher ratings, but me trying to actually do something with the Trios belts gets shit on like Maverick… er, Iceman. I think they’re just pissed because I picked partners that can actually beat them, instead of letting myself get assigned another couple of losers who’d just roll over and let these “Three Kings” come in and take them away.

You might be on to something there… you’re so smart, Vinnie!

((Again, the waitress comes by and again, she drops off a pair of shots and another beer for Loverboy. Loverboy takes his shot quickly and watches as Roxy does the same.))

So, babe… what was it?

Huh?

Come on. Tell me, already. There was something going on back in Chicago, something besides what happened to you back at the Viper Room.

I don’t want to talk about that night, Vinnie…

I know, I know, and we don’t have to… but I need to know what was going on. And why were all of the nurses giving me their condolences even after it was obvious you were going to live?

Because…

((Loverboy waits anxiously, but Roy just spins the shot glass around on the table with her perfectly manicured index finger.))

Roxy… because what?

Because… because I lost the baby, Vinnie. I lost our baby.

((There’s a heavy silence that hangs between them, then. Like the atmosphere of the entire bar as the Giants game went into its final depressing minutes, the air between them grows as silent as the bottom of the ocean.))

Vinnie… say something…

Are you… are you sure?

Yes.

And… I mean… it was definitely…

Vinnie… don’t you dare ask me if it was yours. You know better than that. You know you were the only one.

((Loverboy sits and stares at his beer bottle, then slowly stands up and takes a step toward the door.))

Roxy… I just need some fresh air, okay? Just… just give me a minute.

((Loverboy walks to the door and steps outside, grabbing his elbows in his hands and hugging himself against the chilled evening air. As cars speed past on the busy street, Loverboy suddenly finds himself hit with a wave of vertigo. He sits down in the middle of the sidewalk and leans his head forward between his knees, trying to drown the world out around him.))

Who would you have been?

Were you my son? Would you have been my little rockstar, following me around and emulating my every move? Would I have taught you to play guitar? To fight? Would you have wanted to be a wrestler when you grew up?

Would you have been proud of your dad?

Or would you have been a little girl? A beautiful princess?

An angel, like your mother?

Would you have run up to me every time I came home and wrapped your little arms around my knees in a hug?

What would your first words be?

What would have made you laugh for the first time?

What would have been your name?

Vinnie Junior?

Amelia?

William?

Michelle?

Would you have loved me as much as I loved you?

((Then, Loverboy is roused by a gentle touch on his shoulder. Lifting his head, he sees a transient man dressed in rags, with moist, sympathetic eyes.))

Hey partner… whatever it is? It’s gonna be alright…

Yeah?

Yeah.

How do you know?

Because, partner, the big man upstairs… he takes care of us all, you know?

I don’t really believe…

It don’t matter if you believe or not. It ain’t like all the hocus pocus they try to teach you in Sunday Schools. The big guy, he don’t need you to love him for him to love you, and love every one of us. Old men, pretty girls and little unborn babies, all the same.

How did you…

You just don’t worry about a thing, partner. He’s gonna take care of her.

Her?

Yeah. I promise.

Thank you.

Don’t thank me. I’m just a voice. And don’t worry about trying to find god, neither. You just get up, dust yourself off, and live a life to make her proud.

I will. I will.

Good.

((Loverboy wipes the tears from his eyes and stands up, turning towards the bar door. He stops suddenly and turns back around to the homeless man.))

Hey dude, you got to at least let me buy you a drink…

((But there’s no one there.))