You know, sometimes when life seems to get a little edgy or rough around the edges, I like to look back at recent things that made me smile or laugh and forget the negativity for as long as possible. I know there are times when that's not a realistic thing to accomplish and you have to focus on the bad to get it out of your life and turn the negativity into a positive light. I'm here to tell you that it's not always easy, but it helps when you have people close to you that bring you out of the depths and makes you feel good about yourself.
The one constant I have to admit that I have in my life has always been Abigail. Despite the differences we've experienced over the years and the problems that have arisen between us over her marriage to Darius, we've still been the shoulder for the other to lean on when in times of need. I don't know how we do it, nor do I understand, but there have been many a times in our lives when we seemed to know out of the blue when the other needed a 'pick me up' and we acted accordingly. Our grandparents would tell us the same thing each time; that it was the spiritual bond as siblings that gave us such support from one another. I don't know if I believe that, but Grandmother and Grandfather never steered us wrong before. Why should I not believe them now?
I imagine you're wondering why I bring this up now. It's simple, really. So many fans who are on the outside looking in tend to forget the fact that celebrities, whether they be actors or singers or yes, professional wrestlers, are really just people all the same. Just like the people sitting in the stands, cheering us on -- we ourselves were in that same spot in years past. When we move on to a new territory and meet new peers or wrestlers of whom we looked up to in childhood, we get that very same electric thrill that the youngest of fans feel when they meet us at the shows, in hotel lobbies or in the airports.
Over the past few times I've made myself known to everyone, I've brought my sister a little further into the spotlight. Not intentionally really, but when you have a person in your life you cherish and who is there for you unconditionally, these things simply happen. After all, they're there in your life for a reason.
I mention my sister's support because recently I believe I truly needed it when she discovered something I had hoped would remain hidden. It happened just over a week ago, when my family was preparing to accompany me to Sparks, Nevada. I can only be thankful that Grandmother was taking a nap at the time...
"Abby, what are you doing?" I asked as I moved into the kitchen and found my sister going through one of the bags that I had packed for my trip. She glanced up and gave me 'that look' she always did when i used that familiar nickname for her, the one that she never really cared for. My sister believed in calling people by their names, not shortened versions of them or nicknames. unless of course she was calling me an ass, for which most of the time I probably deserved it.
"What does it look like?" She said with a faux sigh of exasperation. She pulled out a pair of jeans and dropped them into a laundry basket and continued to address me, "If my own helpless brother is incapable of packing a bag of clean clothes for his trip, I guess it falls on his sister to do it for him."
"What?" I frowned as I stepped up to the table and pointed down to the clothes in the bag that she was rifling through. "Those are clean. I just..."
"Oh pth." Abigail raspberried me with her tongue between her lips. "Not all of them are clean." She pulled up a fairly worn T-shirt of mine that I've had for a couple of years now and eyed it with open disdain. "I can't believe that you actually still have this monstrosity." And she tossed it into the pile she was deeming as in need of 'repair'.
"It's my favorite shirt." I reasoned, unable to fathom the mind set of women who didn't comprehend the male mindset in refusing to discard with favored clothes, no matter their condition. "I sleep in it."
"It needs to be put out of it's misery." She mused as she moved aside to the cabinets near the wash room where the laundry was done. She popped open a door and took out the non-name brand detergent and turned around to find me starting to move the clothes she took out back into my bag.
"hey!" She hurried over and batted at my hands with her free one. "Stop that! Go back to doing ... whatever it is that you do to kill time."
"Like what?" I asked. "We don't leave until tomorrow morning."
"You could start dinner while Grams is asleep."
I looked at her and set a hand on my side and she nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Right." She said. "Probably not the smartest suggestion I ever made."
True that, I thought. I'm probably the only person in the world capable of ruining Rice Krispie Treats.
"Then just make me a pot of coffee, please." She said, waving me away with her hand. "I'm sure you can handle that at least. And I'll probably need it given what it'll take me to get my dear brother ready for the road."
"Abby..." I started to say but she cut me off.
She asked, "What are you afraid of? That'll I'll find one of those cute little thongs the world saw you in a couple of weeks ago? You remember, when that partner of yours pulled your pants down?"
She had that girlish grin on her face which told me she was watching my face flush quite the scarlet red. I knew when I was beaten so I turned around and headed for the kitchen counter to make her that pot of coffee, leaving behind what I was certain my sister wearing a very smug smile knowing she had bested me in that exchange.
I also knew better to argue because she simply needed to keep her hands busy. Darius had called just that morning to tell her he would not be returning as planned, but would be staying almost three weeks longer in New York. Some sort of business deals and transactions his form was involved in if i understand it when she was talking to our Grandmother. I tried not to listen in, as I was reading the newspaper in the other room at the time, but I don't think anyone with family in such a spot would not stoop so low as to allow a word or two to slip to our ears. Especially when I could hear the tears in her voice. Never before had I wanted to strangle that brother-in-law of mine more.
"Bo?" My sister's voice arose behind me as I was getting the coffee out of the cabinet. "What's this?"
"What's what?" I asked as I started to pull the top off of the canister and grabbed for the coffee maker to get it under way.
"This."
I turned around to see what she was talking about and I swear i almost dropped the coffee pot onto the floor. My sister was holding my pill bottle in her hands. Like a fool, I must have already put it in my bag and forgotten all about it, or simply forgotten which bag it was in. And it just so happened to have been in the very same one Abigail was going through. I forgot myself. I stood there, frozen, staring at the pill bottle before I looked up and caught my sister's eye.
"Bo." She said, her grip giving the bottle a slight shake. "What are these?"
"They're pills." I answered, and the moment I said it aloud, I realized how lame it sounded.
Abigail simply looked at me and gave me a sharp expression that, if she'd let loose on Darius once in awhile, would probably make her life a little bit easier.
"Yes, I can tell they're pills, Bo. I'm not blind." She held them up and started to glance at the label. "What I'm asking is what are they for?"
"They're for me." I finally said and started to make a grab for them but Abigail stepped back so that she could get a closer look at the label and I could tell the moment she saw the prescription name. Generic name or not, she had always gotten better grades in school than I did and she'd know it for what it was. Her brows creased into a frown and she looked up at me.
"Morphine?" She practically spat. "Bo..." She shook her head, her face know knitted in a mask of confusion. "What are you...?"
I didn't let her finish her question when I grabbed the bottle from out of her hand and turned and walked back toward the counter.
"Bo!"
I spun back around to face her and I wish I hadn't. The swift, sudden movement caused that searing pain to go up my side and spread over my right side like ink pooling in a bowl of water. I winced and paused. I tried to hide the discomfort from her but my sister was no fool. She saw me in pain only recently at the airport, and now this time...
"Not so loud." I quietly pleaded. "Don't wake her up." 'Her', meaning our Grandmother, of course.
Abigail forgot all about helping me with the laundry chores and took a step closer to me. It was amazing to see how quickly the mood she wore on her face could change so easily as the weather itself. Now she showed genuine concern for her older brother, and laid a hand on my arm. Her eyes were not on my face, however, but on my side which she could tell by my stance that I was favoring.
She looked up and I couldn't face her. I just couldn't.
"How long?"
It was a simple enough question, but right now I didn't believe myself capable of thinking very clearly. I glanced at her, tearing my eyes away from inspecting my shoes and the only thing I could think to say was, "Hm?"
"How long have you been hurt?"
"I don't know." I admitted, shaking my head. "Awhile. A year or two. I really can't tell you honestly."
"A year or two." She repeated, her face now truly showing worry. "How? Is it this...?"
"Wrestling?" I asked, then sighed and nodded to confirm her suspicion. "Yeah, I guess so. I took a bad fall when I went to Japan. Their rings are harder. Their style is rougher, and I never really had time to take care of things."
"In two years you haven't had time to have this properly taken care of?" Now her words were mixed with venomous disbelief.
"It's being taken care of Abby." I said. It was true, or I tried to make myself believe it was true. The body has a way of mending itself. Mine just seemed to be taking a little bit longer than usual. I turned around and went back to making the coffee for her, if for any other reason than to try avoiding this subject going any further.
Unfortunately, my sister was as stubborn as any other member of our family. More so, even. When she got a proverbial bee in her bonnet she could be a real firecracker. She wasn't about to be deterred from this and she asked the one question I had hoped she wouldn't, "Does Grandmother know?"
The cupboard door slammed shut. my own fault, letting my reaction be out of my own control. I set the canister of coffee down on the counter and I took a deep breath with my eyes closed. Once I found my sense of calm, I just shook my head. I opened my eyes and stared at my hands.
"And don't tell her Abigail."
"Why?"
I turned my head and frowned. "Because she has enough on her mind already. You know that the slightest thing worries her, even when it doesn't need to. Her own medical bills, the care for this house. Worrying about Darius trying to get his hands on this house..."
"Do not take that tactic with me, Bo." Abigail warned me sternly. "Do not try to use my husband to distract away from these issues."
"What issues?" I asked with a little more attitude than I really intended.
"The fact that my brother is on drugs." She answered calmly, but with enough conviction behind her words to make me turn around, ignoring the pain that was again growing against my side and shoulders.
I growled between my teeth, "I am not on drugs!"
She contradicted me, starting to say, "Those pills are morphine and morphine..."
"Was prescribed to me legally by a doctor!" I interrupted her hotly. "here is no call for this, Abby! Any of this! I'm fine!" I insisted.
She didn't reply to me, not at first. For a brief moment I had thought this was over, or she would choose to let it go. I was a fool to think that. This was my sister we're talking about.
"Why didn't you get it checked out by a doctor?" She finally asked.
I sighed and leaned back against the counter. I closed my eyes and found myself pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. "Abby, I did have it checked out. That's why the doctor put me on those."
"And he didn't suggest surgery?" She asked. "It could be serious."
"He did suggest surgery." I admitted. "I turned it down."
"Wha.. why?" Abigail looked at me as if I were insane. "Bo if surgery will fix ... whatever it is that needs fixed, then you should.."
"I can't."
"Why?"
I sighed and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and lowered myself into it. Abigail wasted no time in pulling her own chair out and set it closer to my own and took her own seat. She stared at me, saying nothing but waiting for an answer. I wasn't sure how to explain it so that she would understand. Truth be told, I wasn't sure I understood it myself. So I just started talking and hoped that somehow, it would make sense.
"I haven't agreed to the surgery, because if I do it, I don't know how long it might take to recover." I explained. Or tried to. "Everything I've worked for ... I could lose."
"You mean your wrestling." Abby said with no attempt to shield her disdain for one of my chosen professions. She never liked wrestling. As a child, she would tease me for watching it, and at times would do everything she could to get me and Grandfather to change the channel when it came on the television. When that didn't work, she would simply leave the room and read or spend time with Grandmother (who didn't particularly care for the sport either). I was shocked, quite literally, when she said she was going to come watch her 'big brother' compete in person for the very first time.
"Yeah." I nodded. "I've been doing this for some time Abby. I put so much time and energy into building as solid a reputation in the business as I could. If I have that surgery, it could be months before I'm cleared to wrestle. Maybe a year or more..."
"So?" She frowned, not understanding my reasoning after all.
"So," I continued. "Wrestling is notorious for forgetting the men and women who gave so much to it. It's the old saying of 'what have you done for me lately' I guess. If I'm out for that long, everything I worked for might be for nothing. it might be lost."
"Do you really believe that?"
I just nodded.
"Then to hell with the business." She said with a swollen scorn to her words. "If it treats the people in it that way, you or whoever, then it doesn't deserve to have you in it!"
"Abby..."
"I'm serious!"
"So am I." I found it almost alarming at how calm I became as opposed to how worked up my sister was getting. "It's not just the wrestling. It's the teaching and..."
"The teaching?" Abigail frowned. "What has that got to do with anything? I should think you'd be able to spend more time teaching without taking those personal days off for traveling."
I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, "I do more than just stand in the class room and talk. I try to help out wherever and with whatever I can. School functions, class plays, anything they need. I won't be able to do that much if I'm laid up." I stopped playing with the spoon that was on the table and glanced up and admitted to her, "And I wouldn't be able to do the work around here that I do."
Abigail's slender shoulders almost seemed to deflate as she leaned back against her chair and looked at me. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?" She asked.
"Not everything." I admitted. "But a big chunk of it. It's why I don't have a fuller schedule wrestling. I can't take that much time away from home in good conscience. Not without someone here to care for Grandmother and I tend to prefer doing that myself."
"She has me, you know."
"I know." I said right back. "But you also have your own husband, and you told me you two were talking about children. You live in Texas, Abby. You can't just drop everything and come here every time I need to hit the road. It's not fair to you, or to Grandmother."
"How do you think she'd feel, Bo, if she knew you were hurt and wouldn't help yourself because you wanted to take care of her instead?"
"She doesn't need to know that." I leaned forward against the table and laid my hand down on her own forearm. "Don't tell her Abby. Promise me."
"Bo." She frowned and tried to retrieve her arm from my grip but I didn't let go.
"Please." I said.
This time it was she who would not meet my eyes. Those lovely brown eyes of hers that captured many a school boy's heart focused on everything but my own. She finally whispered, "I don't like this."
"And I don't like asking you to do this." I said, and she finally looked up at me. I could have wept at the concern in her eyes. My little sister, worried about me. "But it is a necessary evil."
That's my sister, and just one of the many reasons why I adore her. As angry as we can make each other at times, neither of us could see it as a fathomable thing to betray the other. She promised me she wouldn't tell Grandmother about the pills, or my injury. But on the flip side she also made me promise to try to take it easy in the ring and avoid getting hurt. She made quite the point that every match i signed to be a part of would just aggravate my injury and possibly worsen it. Plus, she asked me to try to lighten up on the morphine pills, and find other possible options to help with my pain. We discussed her taking me to one of the reservation elders for possible herbals remedies, but that would have to wait. It risked the elders telling Grandmother and that was to be avoided at all costs.
So I proceeded to make Abigail her coffee while she tended to my 'shabby' clothes and the following day we found ourselves on the road, heading for Nevada. I knew it would be a small adventure. My Grandmother had already met a fair few of my peers in the business. Shane Boswell, Gabriel, of course Mister Ward, and a handful of the others. None of them had met Abigail though and I was looking forward to introducing them to her.
I should have known how Mister Ward would have reacted to being introduced to such a beautiful woman as my sister.
It was customary for the workers to arrive at the arena extra early to go through the plans for the evening's show and help out any way we could. Myself included. I told everyone to keep a watch out for my family who would be arriving backstage as my guests until it was time for the show to begin. Then they'd get front row VIP seats Mister Underwood had arranged for me.
I was actually talking to Mister Ward and Mister Parker who flew in for this show when Christian escorted my sister and Grandmother over to me and I made the proper introductions. That's when Mister Ward proceeded to turn on the British charm in regard to my sister, kissing the back of her hand and paying the light compliments.
You know, one thing I noticed about Mister Ward is that the prettier the woman he's talking to, the thicker his British accent becomes? Hm, go figure. I'd ask him about that but I doubt I'd get a sensible answer that didn't have to do with his libido. Still, I admit I felt a tingle of amusement, watching him try to work his charm on Abigail, and not really get anywhere for his efforts. She held up her wedding band and that pretty much ended it. Well, it probably wouldn't have if Grandmother hadn't been standing right there.
The after party, now that was a night I could probably do just as well to forget. I don't go to too many of those. Not out of a desire to avoid socializing with my friends, but more so a desire to just get to bed or get back home if I can get on the road that evening. However when the guys approached us after the show about going to this club, I started to turn down the offer when Abigail spoke up and stated she'd like to go. I figured Grandmother would be too tired, but she stated she wouldn't mind a nice glass of sherry.
I knew when I was a beaten man.
It was actually a pretty nice evening, as everyone who worked on the show, wrestler, official and staff alike, attended and had a good time. Myself included, I must admit. Well, at least until I excused myself for a moment and left our table. I had managed to grab one for my family and myself, and several wrestlers swung by to meet my sister, and those who hadn't met her -- my Grandmother. I have to note that Jordan Williams was especially respectful towards the matriarch of my family.
Anyway, I was coming back to the table when who did I see seated at our booth but that rather aggressive Bombshell, Brandi Shotze. I am not afraid of any man on the SCW roster, but that woman is a different story. It was bad enough her officiating my mud match against Matthew Kennedy, but afterwards she 'accidentally' walked in on my shower, and I can't walk anywhere around her and that partner of hers (or bend over god forbid) without hearing a symphony of whistles and catcalls. I feel so cheap!
So what was she doing there, you might ask? I came up just in time to hear my 'sweet' sister ask Brandi, "How would you like to be the mother of my nieces and nephews?"
Well Brandi slammed her empty beer bottle on the table and said, "Sure! I'll give it a shot!" And before I knew what was happening, that woman got up and slung me over her shoulder and started to carry me off! To much laughter and cheering I might add -- and most of it coming from my table!
All I can say is thank God we were in a public place or else I'm afraid of what might have happened (other than a stolen kiss and a few good gropes that is).
Did I ever mention Brandi scares me?
"Looking back onto lighter times makes it easier to step forward when you know things won't be easy.
I have no qualms at admitting this is probably going to be the hardest match of my career. Being put in the ring against three such men as I'm up against, each one a viable world caliber contender, and each of us with the same goal.
Nick Jones. The Sin City Wrestling Heavyweight Champion. Rage, Blaque Hart Bruce Evans, Jordan William and myself. We each have a reason why we want to face Nick, an it's not entirely for the reason of the gold around his waist. That's just icing on the cake. It hasn't been any secret of what's been happening between Nick and myself. I never really wanted to believe that Nick would allow this ridiculous rivalry with Mister Parker would escalate and flood over into my own path. Yet it has, and here I am. I guess Nick thought he could have more fun at Mister Parker's expense by picking on me, thinking me vulnerable, and things just seemed to escalate from there. Especially when I started to fight back and give him a taste of his own medicine. Apparently that's unheard of for Nick Jones, and the you-know-what hit the fan. The worst thing he could have done to my career is when he cost me my Roulette Championship. Matthew Kennedy should never have beaten me for that title. I had him beat, when Nick cost me the win, and I went home from London without the very title I walked in with. That is my motivation for wanting to win this Fatal Four Way match. I want to win it, and get the chance to meet Nick Jones one-on-one, with nothing to stop me from returning the favor and taking away what his ego holds most dear, and I'm not talking about his girlfriend.
None of the men I'm up against will be easy. Rage has the size and strength advantage over all of us. I have never seen a man with such a perpetual case of PMS (pun intended) as he has, but the scary thing is -- it works for him. When most men's emotions cost them in the ring, Rage channels his anger and it serves as fuel for the fire within his belly. It makes him focused and he fights even harder to put away the opposition. Though with four men in the ring, I don't know how successful his anger issues will be. I'm certain we'll end up pairing off, but a part of me thinks it would be most advisable that we try to take the big man out before we worry about each other. Rage is simply too dangerous to think otherwise.
I admit when I was first told Blaque Hart was in this match also, I didn't think it quite fair. Here the man had all the momentum in the world and he just left. Then he returns and right away he's acting that he should be in the main events and chasing after the heavyweight title as if he had never been away. I couldn't fathom the sheer level of arrogance he must have swelling that head of his to just think he should be able to return after all of this time and get a shot at Nick Jones and the Heavyweight Championship! But there's nothing to be done about that now. The Fatal Four Way match has been signed officially and he is a part of it. The only thing I can do is go in there and prove to him that his return was premature. He simply is not ready.
Jordan Williams, I admit that I saved you for last. It wasn't too long ago that we met in a tag team match, and I would like to think that I held myself very well the few moments that I was in the ring with you. Out of all four of us, you have the most experience, and the record with the most amount of gold. I can't imagine what your trophy cases at your home must look like. Unlike so many other champions in this business (Hulk Hogan and Triple H), you've earned every single belt that's been around your waist. You earned your reputation. I wasn't surprised that you won the SCW tag Team titles, but I was surprised that right after you lost the titles in London, you were stepping up for a crack at Nick's title. I can't really even recall the last singles match you had here in SCW, so I have to ask; what makes you believe you should be the number one challenger? It's not fair or right for you to think your past wins should carry over to here. But then again, what do I know? Personally, I would love the chance to wrestle you one-on-one. We have an uncanny amount in common, especially with one Mister Parker. The man who aided in your training and is solely responsible for my own. I still find myself being brought to his ranch from time to time. I don't think my training will ever be totally complete in his eyes, and that's alright by me. He runs me ragged. he argues with me. he berates me from time to time to fight harder. And do you know why? Because he knows what I am capable of accomplishing inside of the ring. he knows I can be the best if I just set my mind to it. Well guess what, Jordan? My mind is made up. I'm walking out of Sparks, Nevada as the number one challenger. Because I know I deserve it."
