It's one thing to make a mistake, maybe even repeat the offense a second time; however, it's a whole other ball game, when you willingly and knowingly repeat the process. Over and over again. Knowing and understanding in your heart of hearts, that it was the wrong thing to do. That; my friend, is the scenario that I found myself residing within. And why do you suppose this occurred? Because of a woman. A small 5'5", one hundred and ten pound female, with a black mohawk and a deep love for punk rock. Real punk, not the Blink 182/Good Charlotte crap. Zane Norrison's girlfriend. Frankie Styles. Yeah, we hooked up on Halloween and guess what?


We were still hooking up!


Can you believe it?


I sure as fuck can't and I was balls deep in the bitch two hours ago.


2 hours ago.


She's in my bed.


Currently.


And where am I? Smoking a blunt on the balcony. Cause I can't believe how shitty of a friend I am! I'm on a team of superheroes with her boyfriend. How the fuck can I keep making this awful judgement call? How can I keep stabbing him in the fucking back?


It's not like I can't attract the opposite sex or I'm desperate for affection. I'm an extremely good looking fellow. Well known in the wrestling world. I have a great second job and make a boat load of cash. Never have to worry about money. Have an amazing apartment and a luxury car. So why in the fuck am I the "other man"? Why am I the "mister" in this situation? How am I taking the sloppy seconds from my friend? How can I respectfully call Zane my "friend" when I'm sleeping with his lady? "Friends" don't sleep with each others' girlfriends. Not good ones anyway.


All the terrible things that everyone on the roster thinks about me must be accurate. I must be a complete waste of space. Otherwise, how could I possibly continue operating in this pattern? How? You know I ask myself this question even as I feel Frankie's arms slide around my waste and her lips press into my back. They're warm and soft and produce a slight sigh from me, as I feel them through my t-shirt. This isn't right. Yet I don't object their presence. I am an awful friend.


"What's wrong?"


Ha! She asks me that like it's a serious question.


"Can't sleep?"


Geez! What gave that away? I'm not gonna be a dick though. Yeah, that's right, I'm sparing her feelings. In spite of the fact that I'm crapping all over my friendship with Zane Norrison. Hey, it's a good thing that he doesn't stay current with my promo work for the XWF or else I really would have some explaining to do, right?


"No. Thinking about the next round of Lethal Lottery."


The not being able to sleep part was correct, the reason was not.


"I'm teamed with this giant douche nozzle. Big D. The guy is a total walking punchline to a joke that no one finds funny. I might as well be teamed with John Cena."


"Ouch. That's harsh."


"But the truth, nonetheless."


"Why are you partnered with someone that you can't stand?"


She asks like I have a choice in the matter.


"Because it's round two in Lethal Lottery."


I respond like that'll clear things up in the matter, knowing full well that it won't and there will be at least one follow up question.


"So?"


Haha! I was right!


"What does that mean?"


Two. Two questions in the span of less than a minute. To be fair the first one wasn't much of an inquiry.


"It means my partner is chosen at random. Someone throws a bunch of pieces of paper with participants names written on them and then, they select the papers one at a time, in order to determine the teams. It's all very scientific and cutting edge and yes, that's sarcasm in its finest. Pretty sure Theo Pryce is behind it all. This seems like a very 'Theo Pryce' type of idea."


"Theo Pryce?"


"You don't watch a lot of wrestling, do you?"


Laughter seeps out as I take a hit from my blunt. It continues to spill forth afterwards, causing me to cough in the process


"I watch some. Not religiously but I've kept up with the current names. Like Thaddeus Duke, Lux and Ruby. Love Ruby, by the way. You aren't facing her, are you?"


Yeesh. Everyone loves Ruby.


"No. Big D and I are facing Fuzz and Amjetkun Socio."


"Oh, I know those names. Fuzz is awesome."


Of course she likes Fuzz.


"Yeah, we'll see what you think of him, after I beat the crap outta him."


Smirking, I take another hit. There's no coughing or laughter this time, just a nice clean hit of weed.


"You really think you're good enough to beat Fuzz? He's a legend!"


"You think I'm not?"


Exhaled cloud of smoke.


"Maybe."


"Maybe?"


I turn around and face her, my free arm instinctively slipping around her, I pull her in and she rests her head on my chest. This feels so natural. Yet this is another man's woman. How am I able to casually do this with Zane's girlfriend? Why can't I say this is my girlfriend? Would she be cheating on me right now, with someone else if she was officially my girlfriend? Wait. What the fuck kind of question is that? I think I must be high.


"You're a fairly good wrestler, I just know Fuzz is a legend."



"You know that but you don't know who Theo Pryce is?"


"Yeah, he must be someone that usually wrestled, when I left the room to get a pop or go to the bathroom. Like that really skinny, unattractive chick, Unknown Soldier."


"Um... Unknown Soldier is a dude."


"Are you sure?"


"Yeah, Soldier is a man. I've stood next to him by the urinals. Pretty sure he checked out my junk, so I think he might be a homosexual. Either that or he's bi. He's definitely not Cis though. I know that for certain."


"Okay, well the point is when he wrestles, I'm not watching. Not like when Tony Santos fights or Mastermind."


"Really? You like Mastermind?"


Pause.


"Why????"


"Cause he masters peoples' minds. Duh."


"You're messing with me now, aren't you?"


"Was it that obvious?"


"You told me that you like Mastermind cause he masters peoples' minds. Not even Mastermind can say that without laughing. I took a title off him once. Life continues to destroy him every day. All he has to do is wake up and he fails at life. The only person worse than him is Big D."


"Isn't that your partner?"


"Yeah. This round of Lethal Lottery is gonna suck. I get to watch an old man and a muscular , get in the ring and try to work together, while my partner makes excuses for the fact that he can't wrestle. Maybe he'll blame me for failing to achieve a victory again. Like losing to Robert Main is an epic fail. It's not like I lost to Peter Gilmour or John Black. I lost to Robert Main. The dude that beat the Engineer. He's an icon. It's not like Big D could've done better. If he had been in that match by himself, he would have lost. Please. Only an idiot would assume otherwise. Now I have to carry his ass to greatness and pull off the win or folks will assume Fuzz and Amjetkun Socio are better. If I pull off the victory with a fucking 255 pound, piece of dead weight chained to my leg, no one will walk up and shake my hand. Okay, maybe... Vinnie Lane and Sarah Lacklan might, they know what it's like to be teamed with that crackpot."


Frankie's hand has disappeared below the waistband of my pj bottoms, which causes me to stop speaking.


"It sounds like you need someone to take your mind off things."


"Yes, please. Take my mind off things."


My voice is barely above a whisper and she leans up and kisses me, as I sink my head closer to her's. When our lips meet, I couldn't help but think that I'm going to Hell. It still wasn't enough to stop me.

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...