“On the other side of pain, there is still love.”
Madeleine L'Engle
The private lives of any celebrity have always been a fascination for those of us who work on the outside looking in, choosing to live vicariously through the make believe lives of film and television actors, the musical talents of Grammy award winning singers, or even the physical accomplishments of your favorite sports star, be it football, baseball or… professional wrestler. So much so that the average person will attempt to pry their way into a celebrity’s personal life, rationalizing that it’s alright to do so because “they pay their salaries” in a mistaken assumption that being famous means that you give up any and all rights to privacy. And if you try to tell yourself that you have never wondered at any given time what your favorite celebrity was doing in that exact given moment, well – I’ll call you a big, fat liar.
When we think of celebrities, we wonder how they pass the time while traveling. What TV shows do they watch or whether or not they have a guilty pleasure in fast food. We imagine each and every moment to be one of glitz and glamor. Or, if you just so happen to be Sin City Wrestling’s Carter McKinney aka Helluva Bottom Carter, you hang out with your beloved Grandmother, discussing interior decoration ideas.
Las Vegas, NevadaIn the condo where he and his boyfriend of none months, Miles Kasey, called home in the Turnberry Towers, Carter McKinney stepped from out of the small kitchen with a serving tray in hand, bearing two steaming cups of black tea, one cup with a lemon wedge served on the side. He carefully crossed the threshold, taking great care not to spill the beverages and scald himself. Like other condos in the Towers seen with names such as Fenris and Aron Baltasarsson in times past, the condo was large and open, the living room being the main central area. However, unlike the Brothers Baltasarsson, this condo was sparse in furniture and decor - which was one of the main reasons Carter had asked his Grams to take time for a not-too-brief visit.
“Thank you, dear.” Joan McKinney, Carter’s beloved “Grams” and a seeming permanent fixture in his life in all means, said with a gentle kindness as he picked up the cup of tea with the lemon wedge and passed it to her hands. Carter by his own definition was not a tea drinker, but he kept a steady supply in the home because his boyfriend was, in fact, British and he joked a British home without tea would be an abomination. Plus, Grams was a tea drinker so - win? Carter then sat down at her side, behind the skyline of the Vegas Strip growing more illuminated as the hour grew late.
Grams blew softly on the tea before taking a careful taste, giving her grandson a sly side eye and further stating, “Though I think this whole thing is rather silly.”
“Why?” Carter asked, looking down at his own tea in hand. “I thought you liked black tea with lemon…”
“Not that.” Grams countered, then motioned with a wave of her hand toward the coffee table which happened to be covered in brochures and magazines dedicated to interior decorating. “Bringing me all the way here just to help you with ideas for this condo was silly.”
“I don’t see why.” Carter has a sip of his own tea and frowned, shifting the cup and setting it aside amidst the virtual mountain of aforementioned magazines. He then said, “You have better taste in these things than most gay men. When Miles gave me the green light to redecorate our home, I immediately thought to ask you for help. Besides…” He shrugged and a smile escaped his lips. “Miles said if it were left entirely up to me, the whole place would be done in some Stitch theme.”
Carter glanced up when Grams didn’t make some sort of joking reply as he had come to expect from the very sharp tongued and quick witted woman, and found her to be smiling at him. He glanced about, left to right, then shifted and asked, “What?”
“That’s the first time that I ever heard you refer to this place as your home.” Grams replied. “Rather than just calling it Miles’s place.”
To which, Carter just felt his cheeks blush but could not hide the smile from his face as he looked downward and could feel his Grams’s eyes firmly on him. She asked further, “Things are going well for you two then?”
Carter finally looked up and into her eyes as he answered truthfully, “Better than I could have ever thought possible.”
“Good.” The elder woman smiled, taking another drink of her tea. Her heart absolutely swelled at the thought of her grandson being so happy, especially with a young man as sweet and as protective as she knew Miles to be. After all the trials and tribulations Carter had gone through over the last decade, let alone this past year, he had certainly earned the right to be happy. She went on to say, “So I hope when you think back to what you said in the airport before New Years about good things not happening to you, it makes you feel like absolute rubbish.”
“Thanks, Grams.” Carter laughed. “Duly noted and appreciated.”
Before anything further could be said, the sound of the front door being opened drew their attention and into the condo stepped none other than the very man that was the topic of the hour - and Carter’s erstwhile boyfriend, Miles Kasey.
“I brought dinner!” Miles announced from the foyer, showcasing two armloads of bags from a Greek restaurant that he and Carter had grown rather fond of, and wanted to treat Grams to on this her last night in Las Vegas before flying back to Seattle in the morning.
“Miles, dear!” Grams said with much affection in her voice toward the young man who had brought so much joy to their family over the past year. “We were just talking about you!”
“Oh yeah?” Miles paused en route to the kitchen to unpack the Greek goodies that would be Grams’s final treat before she went home to Seattle and Carter and he packed up for their flight to California. “I thought my ears were burning.”
Miles then went about his path as Grams turned to Carter and asked, “Why wasn’t Miles involved in any of our decorating chats? Doesn’t he want to be involved?”
“Well, when he told me I could redecorate, he knew I was going to ask you for help.” Carter admitted as he started to clear off the coffee table so that Miles could lay out their dinner spread on it instead. He picked up an armload of magazines, wanting his grandmother to simply sit and relax rather than lend a hand. “He’s seen what you did at the house and likes your taste. Plus … he said as this was my contribution to the home, he wanted it to be a surprise for him.”
Grams just smiled as she started to gather some of the remaining brochures but her dutiful grandson quickly hurried over and took them from her, wanting her to simply sit and relax. As he did, he said, “He did make one decision though, in regards to the spare bedroom.”
“Oh?”
“He wants to take out that big bed and move in two smaller ones.” Carter stood with a smile on his youthful face, rather proud for the thought Miles put into the decision. “He thought it might be nicer for you and Mom, or his Mom and sister, to have your own beds when you visit rather than have to share one.”
“That’s sweet of him to think of us like that.” Grams said as she waited for Carter to finish putting the magazines away, keeping them neat and tidy as he was wont to do, a trait he had wicked up stoically from both his mom as well as grandmother. And speaking of, Grams watched the kitchen for a brief moment and as Carter started to walk past to lend Miles a hand, Grams called, “Carter?”
He stopped midway and saw her beckon him and he walked over to her gingerly pat the cushion beside her. “Sit down.”
“But I was going to help…” Carter started to say but Grams was insistent, “Sit down dear. I need to tell you something before Miles comes back.”
“Oh this doesn’t sound good.” Carter slowly sunk into the offered seat and found his grandma’s hand gingerly taking his own. She said, “Carter, it’s about your mom and dad…”
“And, end scene!” Carter said, pulling his hand from her own and he stood up. He dusted his hands off on his pants leg and then held them up, “Grams, I love you. You know I do. But I have no interest in having this conversation.”
“Carter, your mother was very upset that you didn’t invite her here too!” Grams stated, trying to get him to hear her, to listen to reason. Overhearing the voices slowly being raised, a concerned and curious Miles emerged from the kitchen, carrying their dinners. Grams said, “You haven’t spoken to her since the cruise!”
“You haven’t?” Miles asked his boyfriend, to which Carter answered, “Not counting the times she tried using someone else’s phone to catch me, no!”
“She was desperate, dear.” Grams said as Miles took a step closer to set the food down but remained standing, watching in concern at the emotional warfare that was threatening to break out any moment. Miles knew how much Carter loved his grandma, and even more so how close he was to his mom. For him not to have spoken to her since the start of July was seemingly unfathomable.
Grams went on to say, “She just wants to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to her.” Carter stated defiantly. “He should have thought of this before getting back together with that bastard!”
“She’s not together with him…” Grams started to say but Carter shook his head sadly and looked at Miles and said, “I’m sorry. I’m not hungry.” And he turned to leave the room and go to their shared bedroom, Grams standing up.
“Carter!” Grams called after him with an unusual desperation to her voice as he left. “Carter-he’s dying!”
Miles’s own head whipped around to the grandmother of his boyfriend, staring at her in startled surprise at the words she just said. Grams shared a look with Miles and he could sense a regret to what she just said, as if she had just shared something that she was not supposed to. And a brief moment later, Carter himself stepped back into view, standing at the frame of the hallway.
“What?” Carter asked, as if he could not decipher or believe the words she had just spoken. His hand rested on the door frame, as if he didn’t trust his body to move any further. Miles would have taken a step toward him for support, but he asked Grams, “Dying?” And she nodded, sadly.
Carter shook his head and asked, “What are you talking about?” A half scoff, as if he didn’t believe it. Or simply couldn't.
“I-I shouldn’t have said anything.” Grams said softly as she sat back down. “He and your mother asked me not to. But…” Grams seemed as if she did not know how to move on with what she felt needed to be said, stating simply with her eyes on her boy, “But you deserve to know.”
“You’re serious.” Carter said as he finally moved away from the hall and closer toward Miles and his grandma. Carter finally took a seat beside her, and only then did Miles do the same in his favorite recliner. The only thing he told Carter he insisted on keeping when the redecorating commenced. Miles asked, “How?”
“He’s going through renal failure.” Grams answered to Miles, but the words were for Carter. “One of his kidneys is beyond repair. And, aside from a transplant, he has no alternatives. He’s near the final stages.”
“So that’s why he’s been trolling me?” Carter asked, a pained venom in his tone. “He wants one of my…?” But he had no chance to finish his thought as Grams interrupted him, “No dear, he’s not asking for one of your kidneys. At first, that was what your mother thought as well but …” Grams shook her head with heavy sadness. She then said, “Your father said he took far too much away from you when you were a kid. He can’t imagine taking a piece away from you now.”
“So…” Carter struggled to ask, and Miles could see the conflict raging war inside of his boyfriend, threatening to erupt and overwhelm him. Carter had spent literally a decade hating the man that fathered him, a man that could not accept having a gay son, and for that outlook to suddenly be turned on its proverbial head…
Carter asked, “Why has he been around so much if not to ask for my kidney?”
“To make his peace, dear.” Grams said, her eyes growing more wet by the moment. “To say his goodbyes. It’s why he and your mother have been spending so much time together. She’s been helping him get his affairs settled and in order.”
Carter looked absolutely crestfallen, and Miles could see the tears welling in his eyes. Whether they were tears of pain or conflict, he was uncertain. Carter was emotional and it was one of the things that Miles loved about him, but it was also one of the things that he felt most protective about. His voice almost cracked as he whispered, “I always knew mom never stopped loving him.”
Grams nodded sadly and said, “And he never stopped loving her. And your father has never given up hope that you would talk to him.” Grams said as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. “But he says he does understand why you won’t. But … he did ask me to give something to you.”
Grams then walked around the sofa and went into the hallway, heading no doubt toward the guest room where Miles and Carter had put her up for the stay. Only then did Miles stand up from where he was sitting and he stepped over to the sofa and sat on the armrest to Carter’s left. Miles draped his muscled arm around Carter’s slim shoulder and drew him in close, but said nothing. In moments such as these, words were not needed. After a minute or two, Grams walked back out and in her hands was an old-fashioned scrapbook. She took a seat again and passed the memento over to Carter’ laying it gently on his lap.
“What is this?” Carter asked, to which Grams answered, “Something your father has been working on for some time. He wanted you to have it, or at least, to look at it. It might explain a great deal.”
With much trepidation, Carter looked from his Grams to Miles, then down at the pine colored leather cover of the album. It took awhile, but he finally opened it and found, as expected, a collection of photographs on the first page. Pictures of him as a baby, posed with his mom and dad when they were an actual family together.
Carter looked at Grams and she nodded, “Keep going.” And he did as she said, turning pages and as each page turned, more memories came flooding back to him. There was a picture of Carter as a little boy, sitting amidst a massive pile of colorful Christmas wrappings on that holiday morning all children revere. He had a plush Stitch clutched in his arms, his very first. Then there was a picture of Carter posing beside his dad in a swimming pool, his dad the one who taught him how to swim.
More photographs and more memories followed, until Carter turned one page, and came up short at the sight of not a photograph, but of a news clipping. Carter as a young man of perhaps nineteen years of age, posing shirtless in the corner of a wrestling ring.
“This…” Carter said, “This was my first publicity shot Gabriel and Odette took of me… and the first news story did after my debut.”
Grams nodded, as now Miles took a heightened interest and he leaned over a little at the waist for a better look. More press clipping and photographs followed on the pages… one of Carter and Ariana posing together with the SCU Pride Tag Team titles around their waists. Carter choked, “I remember this… it was taken right after we won the championship…”
He continued to find pages dedicated to every stage of his wrestling career; from his rookie years in SCU to where he signed to Sin City Wrestling and everything that followed thereafter. News clippings from matches against the likes of Austin James Mercer and “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart – right up to a color magazine print of his world title encounter against none other than J2H!
“I-I don’t understand…” Carter said softly, fighting to keep his emotions in check.
But it was the page that followed, that brought a lump to Carter’s throat. The last page of the scrapbook was a print of he and Miles posing together, after the two had become a couple. Carter looked up at his grandma with wet eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled sadly, “Despite all his past mistakes dear, despite … everything … your father grew very proud of the wonderful young man you have become.”
Slowly, Carter closed the scrap book. His head lowered, his eyes squeezed shut tightly and the tears slid out, down his cheeks and pooling at the cleft in his chin. Miles reached over with his arm and held him while Grams placed her hand on the back of his…
Sometimes all you can do for one you love is simply be there for them.
“Okay, so here’s the thing. In every walk of life, no matter what you do or where you go, you are always inspired by something. A potential girlfriend might inspire some young man to better himself so that he might impress her and hopefully build something between the two of them. In your workplace, the hope to move up the ladder of success and/or get a raise in pay might inspire you to go back to college and earn that degree that had been on your mind ever since you graduated high school. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances, there was always that little voice that whispered to you in the back of your mind, helping give you that little extra push to do whatever it is to make you want to just try. In ancient Greece, they had a name for these voices that gave us that little extra boost. They were called the Muses.”
“The Muses were the goddesses of literature, music and art. The Greeks believed they helped sculptors to create that masterpiece that has lasted for a millennia that we visit to this very day in museums around the world. They help that musician discover that one key note that would turn an otherwise ordinary song or poem into truly a classical masterpiece that musicians in this day and age aspire to live up to.”
“Even to this day, we draw our inspiration from any number of sources, and some still throw the term ‘muse’ around. It’s why some musicians or artists call a special someone in their life their ‘muse’. It can actually be absolutely anything that gives us that little extra drive. A sunset. A single note in a song. A family member might want you to better yourself and their belief in you helps you do just that. Your friends are your support group and you don’t want to let their faith in you be something that they grow to regret. That is inspiration! Or… and this is where things get not only tricky, but perhaps even a little petty… a former friend can have that same affect on you, but in an opposite way.”
“Krystal Wolfe used to be someone that I called a friend - or at least I thought that I could. After everything that’s gone down over the past number of months and even in recent weeks, I have to wonder if any of the people I had grown closest to in this business was ever really a friend to me or if they just saw me as a means to an end. Krystal sounded almost sympathetic when she mentioned my upcoming match against BRADDOCK, talking as if the outcome was a foregone conclusion in this tatted up guy’s favor. There was a point in time where she, or even Ariana, would speak nothing but support to me no matter who I was up against, no matter how badly I was outmatched physically. Every time in the beginning they always told me the other guy stood absolutely no chance against me, and even if I proved them wrong, they told me how well I did and how lucky the opponent was to have walked out the winner.”
“How times change, hm? And all because I’m up against a guy that at first glance, you would think was some bad ass biker giant of a man, but in actuality, is really not that much bigger from a physical standpoint than I am. I mean, I even made that mistake when I first saw this guy post on social media, thinking he had to be like six foot, eight and three hundred pounds, but no! He’s only five foot ten – one inch taller than me. When I was on the lookout when he entered the locker room, the first thing out of my mouth would have been ‘Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?’ but thank god for Miles stopping me! First impressions and all that. And BRADDOCK weighs roughly two fifty? Granted, that's a pretty healthy weight advantage over me as I’m only one seventy two! From the look of things, it's all muscle because he is stocky AF! But…”
“All things considered, do you really think that’s a fair assumption to just assume that I stand no chance against this guy? That no matter how hard I fight, that I’m just going to lose? I would have expected it from my actual opponent, but from my peers, from people who I was at one point pretty close to? That’s just literally a kick in the teeth … and a kick that I think I have been in DESPERATE need of! Because let’s be honest with ourselves, hm? Lately my record inside of the ring hasn’t been so good. Okay, that’s putting it mildly. It stunk. I don’t think I ever should have lost that match to Peter Lyons, but it is what it is. He won, I lost. The only difference between myself and certain other parties is the fact that I learn from these losses. I want to rise above them. I don’t let them eat away at me until there is nothing left but bitterness and resentment.”
“BRADDOCK is a bad ass, that is not something I am going to even try to deny. But on the flip side, he is far from being the first big bad ass that I’ve been inside of the ring against! Down in Sin City Underground, when I was the Combat Champion, I proved to the entire freaking world that just because I look soft and pretty, doesn’t mean that I fight the same way! And here in SCW? Austin James Mercer! Mac Bane! ‘Bulldog’ Bill Barnhart! Senor Vinnie! Each and every one of them had me outmatched in size, strength and experience! But… I still tried! I still fought! And yes, I did lose to some of them, but… I also won.”
“So don’t even begin to think that this match between you and little ol’ me is some foregone conclusion, BRADDOCK. I am not some flighty little twink that you can just steamroll over to get an easy win. My recent issues inside the ring are not going to be something that you can take advantage of. The last person I ever expected has lit the proverbial fire under me. I have her to thank.”
“And you'll have her to blame.”
