Night Call: Part One
Chapter One
Before...</br>
“Hello?” a voice asked.
John looked up from under the hood of the Civic he was working on. A man, wearing a loose gray suit, stood in the open doorway of the garage. Behind him the sun was beginning its long descent from the sky and it cast the man’s shadow across the smooth cement floor of the shop.
“Help you?” John asked as he turned down the radio he had sitting on a wooden stool next to him.
“Is this your shop?” the man asked.
John tossed the wrench he was using into the toolbox on the ground and it clattered against the other tools. As he approached the newcomer he pulled an oil stained rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands off.
“No,” he replied, “my boss Donnie owns the place. I’m just putting in a little overtime.”
“I see,” said the man. “I was told to talk to the owner.”
“I can try to help you where I can. You have a car you need serviced?”
The man squinted at him for a second, giving John a tight smile. It wasn’t until John got closer he realized how tall the man was. John was six-two, but the man easily had a few inches on him.
“Not quite,” the man said and passed John a folded piece of note paper. “I’m supposed to be picking up this.”
John opened it and in bold lettering someone had written: ’97 Subaru.
“No way,” John muttered.
“Is there a problem?”
“Who gave you this?”
“I cannot say,” the man said giving the tight lipped smile again. “Do you have this car?”
John laughed as he passed the note back to the man. “Yeah, thing has been sitting under a tarp for the two years I’ve been here. I just figured it was for scrap or something. I couldn’t even tell you where the keys are.”
“Not to worry,” the man said and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a singular key. “I have the key.”
John shrugged as he rubbed a hand over the back of his head.
“She starts,” he said. “She’s all yours.”
The two started across the cracked tarmac of Donnie’s Auto Body. The day was still warm, but as what was typical for September the night would be cool. John hoped so. It’d been a long day and he was looking forward to getting home and sitting on the couch with Anna as the cool breeze came in through their apartment window.
“...mean something?”
“I’m sorry,” John said. “I was spacing out.”
“I asked if all those tattoos on your arms mean something.”
John looked down at his arms like he had never seen them before. From wrist to shoulder (not including his chest), he was covered in tattoos.
He finished his examination and said, “At the time in my life when I got each one they did. Some still do.”
The man nodded politely as if John offered up the information by his own accord. They reached the end of the lot where the tarmac turned to dirt. In the corner where the lot’s metal fence joined sat a car covered in a blue tarp. The tarp itself was coated in debris, dirt and dead leaves, a few pools of water were sitting in the folds of the fabric.
John pulled the tarp free as the man stood back and to the side like John was about to reveal to him a brand new Porsche off the show room floor. He was surprised to see that the Subaru had maintained some of its paint job. There were a few rust spots near the corners and near the bumper. But for the being out in the lot for as long as it had been it could have looked a lot worse.
“Here she is,” John said. “She’s been through two Chicago winters, maybe more. If she starts it’s a miracle.”
“Have a little faith,” the man said and patted John on the shoulder. He took the key from his pocket and opened the driver’s side door. John could smell the damp, musty scent from the interior of the car. He crossed his arms as he watched the man insert the keys into the ignition.
Click-click-click-click...
The man tried again, a frown forming on his face.
Click-click-click-click...
John laughed. “I told you, man. It’s been out here too long.”
The man climbed out of the car, adjusted his tie, and to John seemed to try to regain some sense of composure. He glanced around the lot, eyes looking for something. John tried to follow where they were going.
“I will require another vehicle,” the man said. “Preferably something that starts.”
“We’re not an auto dealership,” John said. “If you and Donnie had some type of arrangement for the Subaru, that’s fine, but anything else is my responsibility.”
“Our arrangement was that he would supply me a vehicle.”
Now it was John’s turn to glance around the lot. It was usually in his nature to tell a guy, especially a guy in a suit, to take a flying leap, but he didn’t want anything coming back on Donnie. Donnie had been good to him, like giving him work after his last wrestling injury.
“Tell you what,” John said. “We got a Hyundai out around back. It was abandoned, owner didn’t show up to pay us for the work. If you’re not picky, it’s yours.”
The man smiled, a real one this time.
“That would be great.”
John returned to the office and fetched the keys for the gray Hyundai and brought it out front. The man looked on, very pleased it seemed like. John got out of the car and tossed him the keys.
“You get pulled over in that thing,” John said. “I don’t know where it came from.”
“I am careful,” the man said, “and I like that you are too. I would expect nothing less of a military man.”
John looked down at his open shirt and saw that his dog tags were glinting in the dying sunlight. “I just don’t want any heat on Donnie. Okay? He’s a good guy.”
The man nodded. “Thank you for your help...?”
“John,” he said and shook the man’s hand. “John Void.”
“John Void. It’s got a nice ring to it.”
“So I hear.”
“Well, Mr. Void it’s been a pleasure. Maybe someday I’ll be able to return the favor.”
A short while later John stood leaning against the garage doorway. He was absently sipping at a bottle of Pepsi. The sun was just about down now, and it glowed like a bonfire on the horizon. The man had left in the Hyundai around an hour ago and he knew that Anna would be expecting him soon.
</hr>
Chapter Two
October 28th, 2012
Las Vegas, Nevada
The flight into Las Vegas had been uneventful. He had felt himself pinching the bridge of his nose several times as the single mother in the seat behind him seemed oblivious to her baby’s cries that were borderline blood curdling.
A car was waiting for him at the airport and it drove him down the sun baked roads toward the center of town. He was eager to get to the arena that night. He wanted to introduce himself to a few of the guys in the back. There was also a ringing in his ears and he stopped denying himself what he had known since he left the airport: he had a headache.
John started to nod off as they left Las Vegas Boulevard behind. The strip started to thin out and he wondered for a moment where they were going. He thought to ask the driver about it, but the man hadn’t been one for small talk as he loaded John’s bags into the back of the sedan. They finally swung into the parking lot to what looked like an old abandoned hotel.
“This where they putting me up?” John asked as he leaned over the seat.
“Hell if I know,” the driver said. “They pay me to bring you here. I don’t ask questions.”
“Fair enough,” John replied and shuffled out of the car.
As he was tipping the driver a young kid with a head full of dark hair and a pockmarked face exited out of a side door to the hotel and approached the two.
“Mr. Void?” he called as he waved over. When he got closer he said, “Mr. Void, I’m Kevin Cross. I’m going to get you set up inside and introduce you to some of the personnel.”
“Okay,” John said. “Not a problem.”
Over his shoulder the sedan was pulling out of the parking lot and John realized that he was on his own now. It was all starting to finally sink in. He wondered if the ink was dry yet on his contract.
“This where the show is tonight?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” Kevin said and motioned for him to follow. “Great atmosphere for the type of matches we have going on.”
John followed Kevin inside and they walked down a long corridor and stopped in front of what looked like conference room doors. Someone had taped a piece of paper to it that read: “SCW Locker Room - Men”
“Here you go, Mr. Void,” Kevin said. “I’ll let you get situated and we’ll go over what you need for your spot tonight?”
“My spot?” John asked. “And by the way, John will do.”
“You’ll have ten minutes, TV time, that’s more than they give most. We had a guy a couple weeks ago completely freeze up and we had to cut to a commercial. So the bar is set pretty low.”
“Thanks for the confidence,” he said as he stepped through the locker room door, but a thought ran through his head and it didn’t make the ache there any better.
Ten minutes. Don’t fuck it up.
</hr>
Chapter Three
He didn’t remember falling asleep. That seemed to happen to him often, that his dreams would just swallow him whole out of nowhere. It was one of the dreams that he had often that made everything inside of him just … hurt. He wasn’t sure if he could even call it a dream, it really seemed to be a reverberation of a memory from long ago.
This dream in particular always started the same way. They were in her living room, the smell of fall coming in through an open window and warm pasta in their stomach and their faces red from the wine. Some song by Ben Folds Five was playing, her choice, not his. He sat on the couch and she was across the coffee table from him, sitting on the floor. They were playing some board game, but not really paying attention to it.
What he remembered was how green her eyes were and the way they held the light of the room and oh God … her laugh. The way her whole face lit up at his stupid jokes and sarcasm. He remembered he caught her cheating at the game, and when he caught her, she smiled slyly at him and he knew right then that he might not love another woman in his entire life except her.
There was a moth too. It had gotten caught in the light in the living room, it’s wings banging and burning as it tried to get free. He’d never forget watching her walk up the lamp, and cup that moth in her hand. She smiled at him and carried it away to the door; she opened the screen and set the moth outside. She sat back down and they smiled again and for the first time in his life, he knew the real him was shining through.
The second part of the dream was the hardest, because that’s where he had to lose her again. They were in her car, the gray Volvo with the broken brake light where she had backed into a lamppost one night in November. He sat in the passenger seat and they were driving down the road and he could see the ocean on his left, and the afternoon sun was coming in through the windows.
He had to shield his eyes to see her as the sun was blocking his vision. When he did see her, she was smiling at him and singing along to a song on the radio. The rays of the sun would alternate between heavy and light, off and on, and each time she’d be in the seat, then she wouldn’t be. Every time he wanted to tell her how he felt, but when she would reappear, he forgot the words.
“…John…”
“Yes …?”
She was fading in and out again and he knew it was just a matter of time before she was gone.
“…John. I need to tell you something.”
“What? Tell me what?”
He could see her face and she was the most beautiful girl in the whole world and he wanted to freeze this moment right here and never let it go.
“When we find our way back to light and when we come to find that we lost each other … look for me in the Wolves Den…”
“Don’t go yet.”
He felt her hand rest on his knee. She was almost a ghost now, almost completely transparent.
“I love you.”
“Anna…”
He heard his voice and it sounded like it was coming from a million miles away and he felt someone shoving him awake.
“I love you.”
</hr>
Chapter Four
October 30th, 2012
Las Vegas, Nevada
John returned to the locker room after working up a good sweat running the stairs of the Mandalay Bay Events Center. A hot shower was in order, he thought. When he got back to his locker there was something sitting on the plastic folding chair. On the back of the chair was a black SCW T-shirt with a simple note that said: “Welcome, John.”
Kevin
"A gift from our General Managers."
John
"...okay."
John looked up as Kevin approached. He had another man in tow, a portly fellow wearing black rimmed glasses and a blazer over an untucked button down shirt.
John
"I appreciate the gesture I suppose."
Kevin
"John, I want you to meet Alex King. He writes the SCW blog on our website. He wants to grab a quote or two for your upcoming debut match at High Stakes."
Alex King
"What’s up rook?"
Alex extended a pudgy hand and John shook it.
Alex King
"Sweet. Let’s chat out in the hall. I think catering just got here and I love those little sandwiches -- man, I could eat like six of them."
John followed Alex out into the hallway. Indeed the man had been right, three catering tables were set up and SCW crew members were enjoying an early lunch. John watched Alex shove an entire chicken salad mini-sandwich into his mouth. After wiping the residue on his lips with the back of his hand he directed John toward an adjacent hallway that would give them some privacy.
Alex King
"Okay. So, you’re making your debut against Nate Diaz. You're both Chicago guys. You gotta be feeling the butterflies in the stomach and maybe the piss running down your leg huh?"
John
"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I know I’m the new guy, low man on the totem pole, and I have to carve out a niche here for myself. However, guys like Nate Diaz don’t impress me in the least bit."
Alex King
"Oh, you don’t say..."
John
"From what I’ve seen is that this guy is one of the biggest pieces of trash walking. Has anyone here heard anything from him? Can someone confirm if he’s dead or not? I think I he’s probably putting his degree in the custodial arts to use somewhere."
Alex King
"That’s some big talk for a guy who hasn’t proven anything here yet. I’m positive Diaz is going to be just as hungry to snatch a win after his loss last week."
John
"He’s hungry because he can’t afford a real meal. If you see him, let him know I’ll buy him a five dollar footlong after I whup his ass all over Mandalay Bay Events Center."
Alex chuckled and gave John a fist bump against his shoulder.
Alex King
"That’s some great stuff, man. I can’t wait to post that. Let’s chat again soon."
John smiled as Alex headed back toward the catering table. He felt his adrenaline racing through his veins and finally he felt his headache receding.
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