Back to Square One
It didn’t bug him like he thought it would. Oh it hurt like hell. Even getting that tiny little bitch, Brayden, slammed on top of you hurts. It’s hitting a mother fucker with another mother fucker and it fucking hurt.
So he’s spent the time between getting his ass kicked, like he knew he would at High Stakes til just a few days ago with his ribs taped up.
A wince, a deep breath through the teeth and “Goddammit!”
Miles groaned out loud for just a moment, pulling his shirt off and stopping in the bathroom and looking at the ribs. He sighed heavily before just tossing the shirt over his shoulder before walking into his little kitchen.
“You should really relax, you know?” Becca Larkin speaking up from her little corner of his apartment. She’s taken to working from there to make sure he listens to the trainers orders. Becca has found her calling as a drill sergeant, reminding Miles that he is indeed human. But Milo is always going to Milo.
“I’m fine. It just twinges now and again. Besides, he also said to give it a few days and get up and move or it’s going to do exactly what it’s doing now,” Miles said, stretching his left side ever so gingerly by lifting his arm over his head, “Who’da thought that a 160 pound soaking wet man could do so much damage.”
“Well when you get slammed on by a man the size of a brick house?” she said looking over and getting caught up in his shirtless form. She shakes her head before she catches her staring, “Just glad I don’t have to tape you up anymore. I’m not a physiologist and felt like I was going to make it worse for ya.”
“You did fine, even the trainer at the gym said so,” he noticed her glancing over and it brought a smirk to his face. Even after being together for a couple months, she was still shy about it all, “SO, was wondering something.”
He sits down across from her with that smug look on his face, she sighs and sits back, “That being?”
“If you were up for a trip to San Jose? Getting out of the New York chill for a few days?”
Shrugging, she gives a little smile, “I mean...I wouldn’t say no. Business or pleasure?”
He leans forward, tipping the screen to her laptop down ever so slightly, “I was thinking a little of both. Unless you have plans with your family for Thanksgiving. We could possibly rent a car, make our way down the coast and see the sights.”
Groaning, the look on her face is uncertain, “I don’t know.”
“Becks, you have kindly moved yourself in here to take care of me in my hour of need. THE LEAST I can do is treat you to a few days with some sun away from the computers.”
She reaches over and tries to grab her laptop, “My deadline...”
He pulls it away, “Is far enough away to take a few days and you can sneak your laptop like I know you were going to anyways if you said yes. So....”
They have a staring contest for a moment, his blue green eyes, playful meeting her brown eyes trying to sift through her wanting to keep working but him not letting her. Finally she caves, pushing up and looking down at him, “FINE! But, if we do this then you will experience your first real American Thanksgiving.”
She walks around and heads down the hall, when he comes to the realization of something, “Wait...does that mean like...meeting your family?” he says, as the door to the bathroom clicks closed, “Becca?”
The Similarities are Eerily Different
Something about this area. The San Fran/San Jose area brought him peace. Maybe moving out to the west coast would be in his future but for now, visiting would suit him just fine.
The last time he was here though he found himself a little area that over the Golden Gate and San Jose wasn’t that far away, so he brought himself back to just take it all in.“OK, let's crunch some numbers, shall we. And keep in mind, this is Milo talking here, I’m horrible at math. There’s a reason I’m a wrestler and a muscle head and not a teacher. Lincoln Daniels and I have crossed paths at least 3 times now if not more lately. At least in the last year or so. And in that amount of time I have won at least...twice. Am I right in that?”
He looks a bit confused for a moment, “Something I’ll need to ask Mercedes Vargas, provided she’s not too tied up in something sports related. But Like I said, I suck at this number thing. But let’s forget all of that shall we because I’m looking at it from a standpoint of both Lincoln and I find ourselves in this strange and unusual situation where we seemed to have hit this proverbial glass ceiling.”
A smirk crosses his face, “I can’t help but see these similarities between us, mate. Lincoln, much like myself, has been lauded over with this unlimited untapped potential and incredible talent in the ring and yet....neither of us has exactly lived up to our full potential.” and that thought brings almost a pout to that face, “Do you understand where I’m coming from at all, Lincoln? Do you get how that drives me every single day? I could potentially have easily been walking out of High Stakes very differently, had I not tripped a few different times in a few different spots. Now mind you, I was set to just sit at home til the new year but here we are. AGAIN.”
“Lincoln, I like you mate. I think you can honestly do just about anything you set your mind to. HOWEVER, it seems like you are content with sticking your head in the sand. Never growing or learning from where it has all gone wrong.” he leans forward, those blue green eyes shining brightly, “Do you know WHY I joined Wolfslair? I did it to make sure that as a performer that all my shortcomings are worked on. Meanwhile, it seems like you are content with never truly improving. Sticking your head in the sand and refusing to work on these things will only have you spinning your wheels.”
“I know how badly I screwed up lately. I came to that realization really late but here I am and I’m back at square one.” he points to himself during that. He motions wide, “Whatever it takes, mate. That’s what this is about. We do whatever it takes to try and break through that God Damn glass ceiling. I personally can’t wait to see the day one of us does that.”
Standing up, he looks behind him for a moment before he turns on his heels, looking dead in front of him, “The real question is, will you stop being an ostrich long enough to beat me to the punch?”
