“One Step Forward - Four Years Back”
November 5 - 4:25AM
This world isn’t perfect. Far from it, if we are going to be perfectly honest. There are wars, drugs and disease everywhere that you turn, in every country in the world, no matter how powerful or advanced. Homelessness was everywhere, as was unemployment which was what was the catalyst for said unemployment. Murder and rape. Political strife caused division down the center of a nation that prided itself on being a beacon of hope to other countries of the world. But lately with all the racial bias and gender xenophobia, there were many critics that would try and say that there were third world countries more advanced in such matters than what America - the land of the free - was proving to be.
But that is where the feeling of hope would start to creep in. When Joe Biden dropped out of running for reelection, a feeling of dread was welled up in the pit of millions’ of stomachs. It was believed to be an automatic political gain for the Orange Menace known as Donald Trump. It was as if Biden had practically handed the keys to the White House to a convicted felon and said, “Here, good luck with that!” But when Kamala Harris stepped up to bat, so to speak, it was as if a shining beacon of light was piercing the clouds filled with doom and gloom, offering that very hope up for millions who were desperately in need. The country was being torn apart by hatred and prejudice, and here was a career politician who could offer up something Trump could not; hope.
Hope is not something that is common or fleeting. It betrays all that is seen as wrong in the world at any given moment and it tells you that hey – everything is going to be alright. Hope helps you to overcome obstacles in your life, whether self imposed or otherwise. Hope allows you to envision a better life, to set goals to accomplish just that and to hopefully succeed.
Those were the current thoughts running without end through the mind of Carter Kasey-McKinney as he stood in the shower, beneath the cascading water that poured down across him. The hot water steaming his already tanned flesh to a healthy and glowing pink. This was one of (many) guilty pleasures that Carter took such delight in indulging in during the year where the months slowly grew colder. Showers that were so scalding hot that they were barely tolerable. Carter had been known to take these showers quite liberally, using it as both a means to allow himself time to think and clear his mind, as well as to relax the sore muscles that came with the trade of being a professional wrestler. In the past, Miles had at least ATTEMPTED on a handful of amorous occasions to join him but found the temperature all but intolerable. Miles had absolutely no idea how his husband was able to stand them without scorching the flesh right off of his bones.
By nature, Carter was not the most positive of individuals. Despite his positive and outgoing personality, he was one of those unfortunate souls he was always waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Whenever something good was happening in his life, he was left wondering - perhaps subconsciously - just how long it was going to last. When he and Miles had first got together, Carter was in a perpetual state of fear that it wouldn’t last, that either he would do something that would cause Miles to eventually tire of him, or that he simply did not deserve to be with someone as wonderful as Miles had proven himself to be over the years. It took many therapy sessions from Doctor Gail Delacore and the love and patience of Miles himself to slowly assure Carter that the exact opposite was indeed true. He did, in fact, deserve to be loved - and was. It was the foundation of their relationship, and what had propelled the two to get married earlier this year. Telling the world that nobody could tear them apart!
It was why Carter had such high hopes for today as he slowly and with a hint of reluctance, turned the shower off and stepped out onto the purple bath mat. He took the towel he had set aside and dried himself off from head to toe so as not to make a mess of his clothes or worse, prove his mom and Grams correct about the risks of venturing out into the cold morning while still wet and thus risk catching a cold. Or worse.
It was surprising just how cold Las Vegas could get at this time of the year, even at such early hours. One would naturally assume that a desert would be hot all year round but states such as Nevada and Arizona proved the opposite to be the case.
Carefully folding the towel and setting it aside to join the growing pile of laundry that would have to be taken care of, Carter paused before getting dressed, just long enough to check his phone; Kamala was still in the lead, both in nationwide polls as well as the Electoral College count. Carter had been checking both religiously for the past week, and it just gave him more hope with each passing time. Even if Trump was slowly crawling forward to match her numbers.
Now dressed in a violet, button-down dress shirt with gray dress slacks, Carter made certain his blonde hair was styled just right when he opened the bathroom door to his and Miles’s adjoining bedroom to find a site that caught him somewhat by surprise. An obviously sleepy Miles standing there on the other side of the room by their shared closet, getting dressed in jeans and a warm sweater.
“Miles?” Carter asked, blindly reaching for his wallet on the corner of his dresser. “What are you doing up?”
“What does it look like?” Miles answered with no small amount of sleep still obviously in his system. “Getting ready to go with you at this ungodly hour.”
“Ungodly hour?” Carter frowned. “Love, this is roughly the same time Kristjan is usually knocking down our door to take you running. And you go willingly!”
“That’s because he’d drag my arse out of bed otherwise.” Miles yawns mightily while struggling to get his shoes on while hopping on one foot. “So I told him last night I was going with you so don’t bother knocking.”
“Seriously, Miles. It’s not necessary.” Carter smiled before he turned and headed out into the hall and straight for the main living area of their condo. “I’m perfectly capable of going to the polls all by my lonesome.”
“Not saying you’re not.” Miles shot back as he followed Carter out into the hall, knowing full well his caffeine junkie husband would be taking a detour into the kitchen and straight for the coffee he had programmed to be ready by this time. And sure enough, Miles stood there and watched as Carter poured his prized coffee into his Stitch tumbler, readying himself.
Miles added, “I’m just saying you’re not going to.” He took the coffee pitcher from his husband and went for the cupboard for a second tumbler. He turned briefly back to his husband and stated without a hint of discussion, “And that is not up for debate.”
“Why?” Carter asked, genuinely not getting it. “I’m just going this early to get in and get out so we have the rest of the day for ourselves.”
Screwing the lid onto his own coffee, Miles shoved the pot back into its spot on the coffee maker and turned to his husband with a most serious look on his face. He said, “Look babe, I admit I don’t know shite about American politics, but I know all these Trump supporters are making life miserable for people like you. I read the stories about bomb threats and these jack offs threatening anyone voting for your girl…”
“Okay, I get it.” Carter said amicably, holding up a hand of faux surrender. “I love you for being so protective of me, you know that?” These words brought a smile to Miles’s face, despite how tired he was.
Carter went on to add, “But there’s an issue you haven’t taken into account.”
“Like…?”
Carter shrugged, “You won’t be allowed in the voting booth with me.”
Miles asked, “Why not? I’m your husband.”
“I never get tired of hearing that.” Carter smiled dreamily with eyes closed before he again grew serious and answered, “It's basically a privacy issue, although I admit I don’t know if it’s a law or not. The only people who can bring someone into the booth with them is someone who needs assistance or can’t fill out their ballot for themselves.”
“Can’t fill out their ballot for themselves, eh?” Miles was clearly in thought and before Carter could question him further, Miles shoved his coffee into his husband’s free hand and did a U-Turn to head back down the hall and into their bedroom. Carter stood there and listened to the obvious sounds of Miles looking for something until he heard an audible “GOTCHA!” emanate from the bedroom and Miles soon returned, holding something up in his hands like a trophy.
His old finger brace from a time when his finger had been broken, putting him temporarily on the shelf in regards to his in-ring career.
Along with a roll of medical tape from their medicine cabinet, Miles walked right up to his husband, took him by his right hand and slipped the brace onto his index finger. He then tore a strip of tape off and wrapped his digit tightly and took a step back with a fairly self-satisfied smirk on his face.
Carter looked up from his now mummified finger and sneered, “Oh you think you’re just so smart, don’t you?”
“Pretty much, yeah!” Miles shot back before grabbing Carter’s jacket and tossing it to him before grabbing his own. Miles then placed a hand on his back and steered him toward the front door to get his husband’s civic duty done and over with.
And as luck would have it, it wasn’t as difficult as Miles might have imagined. It was still dark out, well enough away from the famed Vegas Strip that the streets remained dark, away from the lights of the world renowned hotels and casinos. They had pulled into the parking lot of a modest church with only a handful of vehicles there already, it being just after five when the polls would open at six.
Miles insisted he get out first before Carter exited the car, feeling his usual protective self. Miles looked around the dark parking lot but saw nothing - and more importantly, no one. He rapped on the hood of the car as an ‘all clear’ giving Carter some much needed relief as he stepped outside with the much cherished java in both hands. The car locked, Miles walked around to join his husband and Carter led the way as they walked past the church and through a small passage between buildings, following the signs that red in big, bold print, “VOTE HERE”.
There was one door wide open at the last building and as they approached, they shared a look inside and saw multiple booths set up inside and people - the poll worker volunteers - busying themselves inside; getting ready for a very long day ahead.
Realizing they were the first there, Carter took his spot right beside the door, just outside of the polling place. Miles had almost walked past him to enter but Carter placed a hand on his arm and drew him aside with a shake of the head.
“We can’t go in?” Miles asked, shuffling aside and taking his position beside Carter.
Carter shook his head and answered, “Not even to get out of the cold. They’re going through their final preparations so they can’t be disturbed.”
Miles sighed, raising his tumbler to his lips for a drink of the hot contents, casting a glance at his phone. Almost forty minutes until they could get this over with.
But as luck would have it, the time passed fairly quickly. AS the minutes passed by and drew nearer to the hour, more people slowly joined the line. Some quiet, others fairly pleasant and all too willing to engage Miles in a little friendly chit chat; Carter remaining stoic and quiet, his eyes constantly falling to the inside of the polling room. Until finally an older man leaned through the door frame to the outside and called aloud, “Okay everyone! The polls are officially open!”
Miles turned immediately away from the man he was talking to and followed Carter up to the table where a row of volunteers were seated, ready to check everyone in. A lovely older woman, the prototypical grandma, smiled sweetly at the pair and said, “Name?”
“Carter Kasey-McKinney.” He stated, presenting his ID with his recently legally changed name. And noticing her curious glance toward Miles, Carter added, “This is my husband. He’s here to help me…?” He raised his finger in the brace for a visual aid.
Blinking back, the volunteer then smiled again and said, “Certainly dear.” And after a brief check in, Carter was handed his ballot - which Miles slipped from his hands and the two headed for the booth furthest away for privacy and security….
Of course, that’s the thing about hope. It’s not always positive, and it doesn’t guarantee that the desired result will come to pass. That is when hope becomes false hope; the feeling that something positive is going to happen when there is absolutely no evidence to support that belief. It is not a hope based solely on reality, and can easily lead to unmet expectations and emotional pain. And at times, physical sickness.
That could best be described to what Carter was going through at this very moment, as it was now early Wednesday morning, just after four. Carter had been restless since he and Miles went to bed, and for the first time in recent memory, it wasn’t for the usual reasons. His stomach was in knots and the more he watched the election update broadcasts, the worse he grew to feel.
What could have happened? She was ahead for so long in both polls as well as the Electoral College! The media was predominantly on her side, even Trump’s fellow Republicans were heartily endorsing her! But slowly, Trump was not only surging ahead to meet her in the middle, but he was beginning to surpass her. He was only twenty points away from taking not only the Electoral vote but also the Presidency! And all remaining swing states were leaning red. He sat there on the sofa in the darkened front room of his home with his fingers curled against his lips and tears streaming in his eyes, not noticing Miles who was approaching from behind.
Miles, who had woken up to realize Carter was not in the bed and in his arms like usual, had known immediately something was wrong and where he was. He climbed out of bed and exited the bedroom, walking down the hall toward the flickering light of their television.
“Babe…?” Miles spoke softly so as not to startle his husband at his sudden appearance, approached and rested a hand on Carter’s shoulder just in time to hear the newscaster on the screen announce, “And Donald Trump has officially been declared the winner and the next President of the United States!”
And Carter immediately broke down in tears, leaning forward at the waist and his face in a painfully etched and silent sob. Miles practically jumped over the armrest to land on the cushion and he gathered Carter in his arms and simply held him tight. Miles knew little about American politics but knew enough that Trump retaking the White House was going to wreak hell on not just this country, but have political and cultural impact around the world.
“What went wrong?” Carter sobbed against Miles’s chest. “She was winning! She had everything going for her! This just… it just came from out of nowhere!”
Miles closed his eyes, hating what Carter was going through. He indeed did have such high hopes for America to be celebrating its first female President, but as luck would have it, those ‘good ol’ boys’ across the country in all of those red states would rather bait a crocodile with their manhood than have a woman as the country’s Commander In Chief - and a woman of color at that. Trump’s war against women and his intentions should he win were well known. Carter had his mom and Grams to worry about. Miles could not comprehend how he would feel if his Mum and Brianna were under the same threat.
Those idiots actually chose a convicted felon, a man with a record of sexual abuse and other criminal acts against him, rather than a career politician.
“He’s going to tear this country apart!” Carter cried. “H-He’s going to turn us into a dictatorship and end voting…”
“He won’t be able to…” Miles tried to assure him, but Carter interrupted, “They won the Senate and Trump can flood the Supreme Court with his cronies, Miles! He’ll be able to do whatever the hell he wants!”
Carter’s face buried itself into Miles’s chest and Miles closed his eyes and listened to his husband sob and each emotional wreck of his body caused Miles himself just as much emotional pain for what his loved one was going through.
Carter sobbed, “He’s going to end marriage equality… He’s going to renounce our marriage…”
“Stop.” Miles all but commanded, not wanting to hear where Carter was going with this, although he already knew. Miles stroked Carter's hair lovingly with his fingers, resting his cheek against the top of his husband’s scalp.
Miles said, “It won’t come to that. And even if it does, that’s when you and I pack up your Mum and Grams and we move to England where he can’t do shit!” He felt Carter’s arms snake their way around his upper body, returning the embrace and just wanting to be held. With his free hand, Miles took the remote from where Carter had dropped it and he turned the TV off, and then simply leaned back and held his crying love in the darkness.
It was unbelievable just how cold a city like Flagstaff, Arizona could get, but here we were, at the Bespoke Inn in Flagstaff where in less than two days away from the ‘Going Home’ edition of Climax Control where in the Main Event going into the biggest event of the year, there would be a highly anticipated Clash of the Champions contest between the World Heavyweight Champion Finn Whelan and the Internet Champion, Helluva Bottom Carter. The very same Carter who stood on the patio deck of his and Miles’s room, overlooking the night sky above the city of Flagstaff.
Bundled in his tanned aviator jacket lined in wool, his arms folded over his chest. Carter’s face was one of disappointment and resignation.
“This has not been a very good week. For the most part, I’ve been isolating myself and staying away from social media because I literally could not handle dealing with the idiots posting stupid shit like ‘Your body, my choice’ or seeing anything even remotely related to the election. So if anyone was concerned or wondering remotely where I was and why I wasn’t being my usual loud mouthed self…”
Carter shrugged, his hands tucked deeply inside the pockets of his bleached white jeans.
“Well, now you know. And the longer this week passed me by and reality started to sink in, the more my outlook toward this Clash of the Champions match started to change. I was half tempted to contact Mark Ward and Christian Underwood - or even my opponent Finn Whelan himself - and ask to cancel or simply forfeit and just be done with the whole damn thing. But, that thought didn’t last for long. Especially when you have friends and a husband who are just as headstrong as you are. Just as stubborn. Loved ones who support you and won’t allow you to let one setback color your entire outlook on life.”
“So no. I didn’t contact the bosses or Finn to throw in the proverbial towel. I wouldn’t give any of my critics or those homophobic pieces of trash any more ammunition against me or anyone like me. I’ve been in some pretty rough spots many times over in both my personal life as well as my career. I have never been one to just give up and let the other man win without putting up a fight, and thanks to everyone at my back, I’m not going to start now.
“I know you’re watching out there Finn. You have to be. I know we’re not exactly each others’ biggest supporters, especially after recent events, but I can respect you enough to say that you’re a student of the game. From the moment your opponent is announced, you delve right into the thick of things and find out everything you can about the man you’re about to face. And in doing so, you learn their strengths and their weaknesses. You take every opponent seriously as if your career depends on it and maybe in your own mind, it does! Who knows and who am I to judge? I just know that for once, it’s going to be nice going up against someone who isn’t just going to take one look in my general direction and automatically overlook me.”
Carter cast a glance up into the night sky and shrugged as if in deep thought or contemplation.
“True, more often than not that sort of outlook from my opponents has worked in my favor. These bad ass bruisers see this ‘little twink’ standing across the ring from them and that’s all they see! They don’t see my past accomplishments in SCU or the fact that I now hold the second most prestigious championship (in my own humble opinion) in the men's division! They just look at themselves as some sort of alpha predator and see me as easy prey. But not you and for that, I have to give my thanks. And hope that everything that I am about to say doesn’t offend you or come back to bite me in the ass because trust me when I say, I have no right problems with you.”
“But I haven’t a shred of doubt that if there weren’t issues between Miles and yourself, that this match wouldn’t even be happening. The powers that be see everything, and they saw what was going down between you and my husband heading into High Stakes XIV and they thought to themselves, ‘Heyyy! I know what would be the perfect set up for the Finn Whelan-Miles Kasey showdown for the World Championship! Let’s throw Carter in there against Finn and let Finn work out his frustrations and (maybe) send Miles himself a message in the process!’”
Carter smirked at the camera and shook his head.
“Only things aren’t going to work out the way the higher ups thought. You know it, and I know it too. Now I don’t want you watching and thinking that I’m the one overlooking you and already seeing myself as the winner. I do think I am going to win, Finn. I ‘need’ this win more than you could ever imagine. But… My point is that win or lose, I am going to make damn sure I give you the fight of your career. I am going to make you earn every single move or hold you manage to pull out of the fire at my expense. And, if anything, I want my own opponent at High Stakes XIV, the Hall of Famer Kris Ryans, to watch and realize just what it was that he got himself into wanting a championship match against me.”
Carter reached behind him and drew up one of the cushioned deck chairs that the hotel had provided their room. He slowly took a seat and leaned back, relaxing as best he could.
“Finn, what I am about to tell you, I want you to take to heart and not take it personally. Because I can’t strive hard enough I am not out to antagonize or offend anyone – this time around. But what’s been going on between Miles and yourself? That is between the two of you. I am not involved in any way, shape or form. Miles already knows this and expects no less. And now, you know. The only way that I could or would ever get involved is if someone from your side of the tracks decided to involve themselves and help you against Miles. But I have all the confidence in the world that if anyone were to do so, it would upset you as much as it would us.”
“That is where you differ from a lot of champions over the years, Finn. It’s what has made you one of the more predominantly respected wrestlers in recent history. You want to do things your way and by yourself – or not at all. Respect. Plus I suppose you have that attractive praying mantis thing going for you that's turned an otherwise HBIC with perpetual Magnum PMS into a college co-ed panty dropper.”
He held up a finger and shook it admonishingly.
“But the one person who has been voicing opinions on the situation between my husband and yourself is probably the one person who has the least to say in all of it. And yeah, I’m talking about Kayla. Now I’m not saying that this situation is none of her business…”
He cups a hand over the side of his mouth and looks innocent as he stage whispers, “It’s really none of her business.” Before resuming,
“But she’s spoken up more and louder than either you or Miles and you two are the ones directly involved in this…. Well, whatever it is! Kayla is the one the very night Miles jumped you and made his intentions clear to reprimand Miles, calling him every name in the book and admonishing him as if he were a child and she was his school marm. And even recently she declared that if intergender matches were a thing in SCW, she’d love to spill his blood! Well allow me to briefly stray from the topic of you Finn to better address the elephant in the room and say…”
He turned to face the camera directly.
“Kayla? Intergender or not, you lay a hand on my husband and I’ll have an army of lesbians do what I can’t!”
He then turned back and smiled.
“But I really don’t see it coming to that because Miles got you, then you got him one back. I’d say this showdown at High Stakes should be enough to settle things between you, no? Or at least I should hope so. Now I know, everyone from Kayla to yourself and some of the higher ups in Wolfslair have been laying into Miles verbally about what he did to you and how it damages the gym rep of Wolfslair and yadda yadda yadda! And you know something? Out of everything that has been said and done between the two of you, the talk of Miles betraying one of the team and talks of reprimand are what pisses me off the most! So let me ask you this, Finn. And if people like Kayla Richards and Alex Jones are watching, then please…! Indulge me!”
“Where the hell were any of you when Austin James Mercer was using me to get to Miles!? Huh!? Where were you when Austin was attacking me every chance he got, and all to get under the skin of Miles and make him needlessly prove himself to Mercer!? Oh I get it, I can hear it already! Austin is a Wolfslair original and one of the mainstays! Well to that I have to ask; doesn’t that make what he did even worse than what’s been going on between Miles and Finn? If Austin is indeed one of the main members of the team, then shouldn’t he by all rights be serving as an example to everyone else affiliated with Wolfslair? Yes? No?”
Carter jetted out his bottom lip and held up his hands in mock wonder.
“Because if not, then I hate to say this but that just screams hypocrisy. Holding one member up to an ideal that you don’t - or won’t - hold another. But that’s in the past, Finn. I mean, Miles and Austin buried the hatchet enough that he was even invited to our wedding! And I just have to ask! If they can move past all of that animosity and reach that point then my GOD! Can’t you?”
Carter drew back and closed his eyes, softly exhaling. His breath was visible in the cold, night air. Soon enough, he opened his eyes once again and looked hopeful.
“Don’t let what happens in our match color what happens when you meet Miles, Finn. Just like I am not going to use this to force Kris to think anything else but hopefully respect. What happens between us this Sunday Finn, starts inside of that ring and it ends there.”
Carter then stood up and gave the camera one last, lingering gaze.
“Win or lose.”
Before he gave the camera and presumably Finn, a salute and left the scene, walking back inside of the hotel room as the camera faded to black.