Tuesday -
Las Vegas, Nevada
The final bell had barely finished ringing inside the school building before the front doors opened and students emerged by the dozens, eager for the end of their school day and coming this much closer to the Christmas break. There was already a steady line up of school buses and parental cars with a few drivers leaning out windows to call names to their loved ones. And parked just off the curve of the pickup lane was a blue Jeep Renegade that had easily become part of this daily routine.
Miles Kasey was at the wheel, one elbow propped on the door, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Beside him, Carter watched the front doors, half-joking, “This is like watching a nature documentary.”
“Teenagers in their natural habitat.” Miles played along. “Observe the way they travel in packs for migratory purposes.”
Carter added, “And the way they communicate exclusively through yelling, shoulder-checking, and whatever that dance is.” Pointing at one boy who looked like he was imitating one of those inflatable tubemen outside storefronts.
Carter leaned against the open window, watching the teenagers like they were some live reality show. “You think he’s gonna spot us right away today, or do we get the ‘mysteriously blind until he’s five feet away’ routine again?”
Miles shrugged, musing with a deep fondness and said, “Depends if Connor is with him or not.”
Carter tipped his chin toward the doors, “Speak of the devil...”
Miles shifted in his seat as the familiar figure of Kevin Chapman emerged with the crowd, backpack slung over one shoulder. Right beside him was Connor, and even from this distance, they could see Connor’s head angled toward Kevin like he was sharing the secrets of the universe with Kevin.
Carter watched them for a beat, then murmured, “Look at them.”
Miles could not help but grin openly as Kevin and Connor moved down the steps and into the swarm of students. Kevin’s eyes roamed the pickup area while trying not to be too obvious.
Carter smiled, “Called it.”
The two adults watched with growing affection as Kevin lifted a hand and gave Connor a quick, awkward, very teenager kind of half-wave. Connor answered with a two-finger salute and stepped backward, still talking, until he vanished in the growing throng of students.
Kevin lingered just long enough to watch Connor go, then turned away from the buses and started scanning again.
Watching closely, Miles spoke softly as if narrating an episode of National Geographic Explorer, “And now the subject disengages from his associate and pretends he is simply walking.”
Carter followed up with, “Totally casual. Not at all headed directly for a blue Jeep containing two grown men who keep snacks in the center console.”
Carter watched him weave through the crowd with his head down as if without Connor by his side, he was trying to remain unseen. He stepped around a gathering of kids taking selfies near the curb, until he drew close to the Renegade.
Kevin reached the passenger side first, paused as if to make sure he had the right vehicle despite it being impossibly obvious, then leaned slightly toward the open window line, his face brightening in that way that always made him look a little younger.
“Hey.” Kevin said. And then he pulled the rear door open and climbed into the backseat, shutting the door behind him. By personal tradition, a small bag of jalapeno Doritos and a Dr. Pepper was passed to the grateful hands of the teen, a much needed after-school snack.
Carter didn’t turn all the way around. He just angled his eyes to the rearview mirror as Kevin popped the tab of the soda and almost drained it straight away.
“So…” Carter said, breaking the proverbial ice. “Did you invite him to the party?”
Kevin blinked, then put on his best innocent face, for which it affected neither Carter nor Miles. “Who?”
“Who.“ Carter repeated with a playful roll of his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. The Ghost of Algebra Past?”
Kevin stared, causing Carter to sigh dramatically. “Connor, of course.”
He stammered, taking on an adorable flush from his neck to his ears. “No. I mean, not yet. I don’t…”
“The party’s on Friday.” Carter pointed out. “And we leave for Denver on Saturday. Then we head to Washington on Monday.”
Kevin’s eyes shifted to the mirror again. “Washington?”
“`Fraid so.” Carter smiled. “Christmas break and this time, with Miles’s family there too..”
Kevin went quiet in that way he did sometimes, processing that the new ‘family’ that he was surrounded by was going to grow even bigger.
Carter continued, “So our Christmas party is basically your last chance to see Connor before the holiday takes over.”
Kevin huffed, the sound half laugh, half protest. He said without a convincing tone, “We’re just friends.”
Carter’s eyebrows lifted as if he’d just heard the funniest thing in the world. “Sure.” He said. “And Miles and I are just roommates who took in a cat and a teenager for ambience.”
Miles snorted so suddenly it came out as an undignified burst of laughter. Kevin’s ears went pink as he said, “It’s not the same.”
Miles glanced back over his shoulder just enough to catch Kevin’s eyes. “You want me to invite him for you?” He asked. “I can do a drive-by. You know. Roll the window down. ‘Connor! Friday! Party! Bring your mistletoe!’”
Already smiling, Miles lifted his hand toward the window controls. The driver’s window began to lower when Kevin lurched forward, pleading, “Miles, don’t! Please!”
Miles froze mid-motion, wearing a faux sense of innocence. “What? I’m just being supportive!”
Kevin’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I’ll invite him.” He promised. “Later.”
Carter’s eyes met Miles’s for a beat. Miles lifted both hands briefly in surrender and nudged the window back up. “Fine. Later. No public declarations from the Jeep.”
Kevin sank back into the seat, exhaling sharply. Miles eased the Jeep forward a few feet, waiting to pull out when a figure stepped toward the Jeep from the sidewalk, close enough that Miles had to stop. A teacher approached the driver’s side. Her expression was professional, but not unfriendly. More like careful than anything. Hazard of the job. Teachers never knew what type of parents that they’d be dealing with.
Miles tapped the brake and rolled the window down.
“Hi.” She said, leaning forward at the waist to look inside the window. “I’m Ms. Saldana. Kevin’s Ethics teacher.”
Kevin made a noise in the backseat, something between a sigh and a groan. Ms. Saldana’s eyes darted past Miles and Carter, toward the rear, and then back again. “Would you have a moment?” She asked hopefully. “I was hoping to discuss something that happened today in class with Kevin.”
Carter and Miles exchanged a look, then they turned their attention toward the backseat. Kevin was trying to bury himself into the cushions of the backseat.
“Okay?” Miles said with caution, keeping his eyes on the teacher. “What happened?”
Ms. Saldana said, “Today in ethics we held a series of structured debates about current events and social issues. Kevin was assigned to debate DEI topics with another student, Samantha Price. Samantha is … fairly religious.”
“Fairly religious?” Kevin burst out. “She brings a Bible to school!”
Ms. Saldana continued, “Samantha’s position was that DEI has no place in Hollywood. She argued that the best actors should simply get the roles, that gender and race swapping for the sake of inclusion undermines original stories, and that casting should remain faithful to the source material.”
Carter prodded, “And?”
“And … when it was Kevin’s turn…” Ms. Saldana spoke carefully, “He responded by pointing out that Samantha is about to celebrate a holiday that was appropriated from Pagan traditions, filled with Pagan symbols and rituals, all to commemorate the birth of a Middle Eastern Jewish man who is now commonly portrayed as having blond hair and blue eyes. He then suggested she ‘sit this one out.’”
There was a brief, suspended silence inside the Jeep.
Carter stared at Ms. Saldana like she’d just finished reading a grocery list.
Miles blinked once. Twice. “I’m … not seeing the issue.”
Carter tilted his head. “I’ll grant that the ‘sit this one out’ line might’ve been a bit much, but everything else he said is historically accurate.”
Ms. Saldana sighed, saying, “Samantha ran out of the classroom in tears. We have strict policies regarding bullying…”
“Bullying!?” Miles interrupted, incredulous. He leaned a bit closer to the window now. “From what you just described, that wasn’t bullying! That was debating! In a debate that you assigned!”
Carter leaned over to get a better vantage point at the teacher. He said, “You introduced a culturally and politically sensitive topic to a classroom full of teenagers and it went sideways. And now you’re trying to pin that on the student who actually knew his facts?”
Ms. Saldana opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Carter continued, voice calm but unyielding in support of Kevin. “I respect that the girl has religious beliefs, but she doesn’t get to weaponize them and turn herself into the victim just because she lost the argument. And frankly, neither do you!”
Kevin sat frozen in the backseat, eyes flicking between the three adults.
Ms. Saldana exhaled slowly. “I’m not accusing Kevin of malicious intent.” She said after a moment. “I needed to understand the context, and make sure expectations are clear moving forward.”
“Fair enough.” Miles nodded. “And our expectation is that if you assign debate, you accept the debate. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”
Ms. Saldana gave a small, professional nod. “Understood. Thank you for your time.”
She stepped back from the Jeep, turned, and headed toward the school doors. The moment she was out of earshot, Kevin let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. “Thanks for having my back.”
Carter glanced over his shoulder with an easy smile. “Anytime.”
Miles eased the Jeep into motion as the line finally loosened, turning them toward the exit. As they rolled forward, one could hear one last exchange between Miles and Kevin.
“She did lose the debate, right?”
“By a landslide.”
“Attaboy!”
Turnberry Towers -
Friday Night
The condo at the Turnberry Towers was tastefully decorated for the upcoming holiday. Just enough and not overdone as the residing family would be spending Christmas in Olympia, Washington. Christmas music hummed softly from the Bluetooth speakers and the rich scent of food hung in the air. Thick slices of prime rib disappeared quickly, paired with roasted vegetables and glasses freely being refilled.
Say what you might, Carter and Miles treated their guests right.
George C. Scott’s “A Christmas Carol” played quietly more for atmosphere while clusters of guests filled the living room. LJ Kasey and Alexandra Calaway lingered near the windows with red wine in hand, talking animatedly with Harper Mason while Bobbie Dahl and Artie hovered close to the kitchen island, revisiting the charcuterie board of cheeses and meat slices for the third time. Anne Thompson had stood laughing with her husband, Robert, both holding mugs of hot buttered rum as Gabriel and Odette from GO Gym had debated about whether Die Hard qualified as a Christmas movie. Synn and Despayre had loomed nearby, Despayre already eyeing the cocoa bar like it was a sacred calling. Fenris and David Shepherd had occupied one of the sofas, Fenris nursing a drink while Aron Baltasarsson and Zoey Lukas had drifted between groups, greeting people with easy familiarity.
Their upstairs neighbor Oliwia, unique and unmistakable Oliwia, had floated between worlds, her presence somehow both chaotic and grounding.
And Kevin? Kevin grew to be very much part of the room that night, despite all lingering unease. He had drifted between conversations, laughing at Despayre’s antics and growing flushed at Fenris’s colorful language in his Icelandic accent. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward the door, just quick enough that he probably hoped nobody noticed.
Carter clapped his hands sharply from the center of the room. “Okay! Ugly sweater runway in five minutes! Final call for last-minute questionable fashion decisions!”
That was when there had been a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Oliwia had called out brightly, already halfway there. She opened the door and froze.
Connor stood in the doorway wearing the flashiest Christmas sweater anyone had ever seen. It blinked. It sparkled. It featured sequins, dangling ornaments, and what appeared to be a light-up reindeer doing something vaguely suggestive. It was both a crime in fashion and glorious.
Oliwia slowly turned her head back toward the living room, eyes wide with awe. “We have a winner!”
Kevin’s head snapped up at Connor’s arrival. For half a second, he just stared until his face broke into a grin that lit the room. He moved without thinking, stopping just in front of Connor.
“Hi.” Kevin had said.
“Hi.” Connor replied.
(Hey, if you know, you know!)
They stood there longer than necessary, both smiling like lovesick puppies before Oliwia ushered Connor inside to cheers and applause at the sight of his garish sweater.
And the Ugly Sweater Runway contest? It proceeded exactly as expected. Dramatic entrances, exaggerated poses, elaborate commentary from Carter as emcee and ruthless applause. Highlights had included Bobbie’s sweater that had appeared to be actively attacking her, Anne Thompson’s tastefully ugly knit covered in embroidered bells, and Harper’s minimalist-but-deeply-disturbing sweater featuring a single blinking reindeer eye. Then it was Connor’s turn.
The teenager walked last and the room absolutely lost it, especially with his little spin and pageant smile at the end. And by unanimous decision, Connor had been crowned the winner, accepting a tiny gold-wrapped prize and generous applause.
Later, teams split for Christmas movie Pictionary. Shouting had erupted almost immediately. Someone had drawn something that had looked suspiciously like a toaster. Gabriel had insisted it was “Elf” while Harper had yelled “The Grinch”. Bobbie had screamed “Home Alone” with absolute conviction.
Despayre had fully claimed the hot cocoa bar, operating it like a high-end café. There were rules now, and a line. He judged marshmallow distribution with a critical eye.
As the night had settled into a comfortable glow, Carter and Miles had made the rounds, handing out small wrapped gifts to everyone; simple, thoughtful gifts When they had reached Connor, Miles had handed him an envelope rather than a wrapped package.
With Kevin glancing curiously over his shoulder, Connor opened it and stared at the contents with a gaping expression.
“No way…” He whispered, his excitement barely contained. Inside was a VIP package for Inception VIII. Ringside seats, backstage passes, the whole thing.
“Are you serious!?” Connor laughed, shaking his head. The sixteen year old was a big wrestling fan and this gift was a dream come true!
Carter smiled, Miles’s arm wrapped around his husband’s shoulder. “Dead serious.”
Connor was thrilled, bouncing on his heels, thanking them both with breathless enthusiasm.
Later in the evening, Kevin drifted near the edge of the room, unaware he’d wandered directly beneath a sprig of mistletoe. But Connor had noticed. He slipped in close, quick and easy, and gave a quick peck to Kevin’s cheek.
Kevin froze, and then he blushed, but the smile on his face was unmistakable as he looked at an equally smiling Connor. But then he looked over Connor’s shoulder and found Carter and Miles watching. Miles lifted his glass in a toast while Carter muttered, “Just friends my ass.”
“This weekend isn’t just another match on the calendar. It isn’t just another excuse for Alexander Raven to hear his own voice. This is the World Heavyweight Champion standing side-by-side with the ‘Workhorse of SCW,’ ‘Unbreakable’ Eddie Lyons, and the first thing I want to make perfectly clear is the fact that I respect Eddie Lyons. I’m not paying lip service because the cameras are on and Eddie and I have to get along. I mean the kind of respect you earn when you show up every single week, when you take whatever they put in front of you and you don’t make excuses. You work. You bleed. You keep going. And my partner Eddie Lyons? He’s the standard of what a professional wrestler is supposed to be when the cameras are off and on. Whether the arena is sold out or he’s working in front of a few dozen fans at most.”
“And I’ll say this right now. If there was any justice in this sport? Eddie Lyons would be the man getting the championship opportunity at Inception VIII. That’s not me trying to butter up my partner for the weekend, that’s not me playing mind games with anybody. That’s me saying out loud what everyone in that locker room knows. Eddie has put in the miles and he’s done the work. He’s earned the right to be rewarded with the biggest stage and the biggest prize and instead we’re watching the system do what it always does. It looks for the loudest mouth, the most poisonous narrative and the person who can stir the most chaos and call it momentum. It reaches past the person who deserves it and hands the spotlight to the person who screams like he’s entitled to it. That’s how Alexander Raven ended up sniffing around the World Heavyweight Title picture like a vulture circling a battlefield he didn’t fight on.”
“So Eddie, I’m telling you now, not as a champion trying to sound benevolent, but as a man who has fought his way to the top and knows what it takes. I see you. I see what you’ve endured. I see what you’ve overcome. The difference between you and the people you’re dealing with is that you don’t need a scheme to be dangerous. You don’t need a story to be relevant. You don’t need to build a staircase out of other people’s backs just to reach the door. You just show up. And this weekend, when we stand across from Alexander Raven and Brayden Hilton, we’re not just teaming up because it makes for a neat graphic on a screen. We’re teaming up because the truth has a way of finding its moment. The truth is that the Workhorse and the World Heavyweight Champion are aligned for one night and when that happens, it’s going to expose the difference between men who earn it and men who expect it.”
Now, Alexander Raven. You slithered your way into a championship match that you didn’t earn, and the reason I’m using that word ‘slithered’ is because it fits you perfectly like the snake you are! You attach yourself to whatever controversy is burning hottest and you call it proof that you deserve to be relevant. You’re not a contender, you’re an opportunist. And the worst part is that you’ve convinced yourself that those two things are one and the same. You look at a ranking system and you treat it like it’s supposed to bend around your ego, and when it doesn’t, you don’t work harder and prove people wrong. You retreat into conspiracy theories and insults like a man hiding under a table during a storm. If you can’t make a case with wins, you make a case with noise. If you can’t earn respect, you try to bully it out of people. If you can’t convince the world you belong, you try to convince the world that everyone else is cheating you out of your rightful place at the head of the table!”
“And here’s what gives you away, Alexander. You always have a reason and excuse ready that makes you the victim. You always need a narrative where you’re the man the world refuses to recognize. You cling to that narrative because it absolves you of any responsibility for your own shortcomings. It lets you avoid the one thing you’re terrified of; standing alone on your own merit! Because if you stand alone, the truth gets loud real fast, and the truth is that you haven’t done enough to deserve what you’re demanding! You’ve done enough to demand attention, sure, but attention and achievement are not the same thing! You’ve learned how to weaponize a microphone. You’ve learned how to bait people and how to keep your name in headlines> The sad part about all of that is you’ve mistaken that for accomplishment. And it’s not! You can’t talk your way past the bell! You can’t conspire your way past a three-count! You can’t insult your way into a clean victory! And deep down, you know that! Which is why you keep trying to change the conversation!”
“Then there’s the other part, your favorite part. You know the one. The part where you pretend you’re some sort of self-made threat. But let me say it plainly. You can’t accomplish anything of merit without Luna. You can posture all you want, but when push comes to shove, when the moment gets heavy and the pressure squeezes? You reach for the same crutch every single time! Luna interferes. Luna distracts. Luna manufactures the outcome you can’t manufacture on your own! And the funniest thing is the way you try to wash your hands of it afterward, like some sanctimonious politician caught on tape. You say you can’t control what your wife does, as if we’re all supposed to nod along and accept that as the end of the conversation. Alexander, you absolutely can control what happens in that case! Not in some creepy, possessive sense but in the most basic, simple, adult way possible! You tell her to stay out of it! You tell her not to interfere! You can draw boundaries! You can choose to stand on your own! You could do that, but you just don’t want to because you prefer the shortcut. You prefer to keep your hands clean while someone else does your dirty work! You want the victory and the spotlight but you don’t want the accountability that comes with earning it!”
“And that’s what you are, Alexander! A man who believes he’s entitled to the rewards of greatness without paying the cost of becoming great! You want to be treated like a champion contender while operating like a man who needs a safety net! You want the prestige without the sacrifice! You want the status without the substance! And you’ve managed to convince just enough people that you’re worth keeping around because you’re ‘dangerous’, when in reality? You’re just loud.”
“Now, Brayden Hilton? Brayden, you are the only man in SCW who can make Alexander Raven look like a priest when it comes to entitlement. And I’m not saying that figuratively. Literally! That's a fact you’ve built your entire identity on! Alexander at least hides behind conspiracy theories and fake persecution. You don’t even bother with that! You walk into a room like the world owes you applause. You talk like the simple fact that your mother is of lofty standing means you carry that same stature. And what have you actually done? What have you earned? What have you achieved that wasn’t handed to you? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve accomplished absolutely nothing to warrant the space you take up on this roster other than the fact that you are your mother’s son!”
“And when that emptiness starts to show, what then? What do you do? You make yourself relevant the only way you know how, by costing someone else their match! By sabotaging someone who is clearly your better! By inserting yourself like a parasite into other people’s moments and hoping the repercussions make you look important! We just saw you do it, costing Eddie Lyons his match against Alexander Raven last Sunday! You didn’t win anything! You didn’t prove anything! You just ruined something for someone else! That’s your whole brand, Brayden. You don’t create moments, you hijack them! You don’t elevate yourself, you pull other people down and call it strategy!”
“And that’s why you and Alexander are standing on the same side of the ring this weekend. Not because you’re compatible or some cohesive unit built for dominance. You’re together because you’re both addicted to shortcuts. You’re both obsessed with the idea that you can skip steps and still claim the outcome! You’re both the kind of men who would rather cheat the process than respect it! You’re both terrified that if the world ever turns the volume down, they’ll hear the emptiness underneath!”
“And let me say with the clarity of a champion that there is no possible way oil and water like Alexander Raven and Brayden Hilton could ever form a cohesive team! You can pose together and cut your little speeches about destiny and injustice, but the moment that bell rings, reality takes over! Reality doesn’t care about your entitlement and excuses! Reality cares about the ability to sacrifice your ego for the sake of victory! You two can’t do that, because you don’t even like each other! You just like what the other represents. Alexander likes having a chaos agent he can point at and claim innocence. Brayden likes having a headline to stand next to. But the second one of you has to actually rely on the other, that alliance will shatter like a dollar store Christmas ornament!”
“Because Alexander, you need control and to have everything to revolve around you. And Brayden, you need attention. You need the spotlight to follow you like you’re the main character. Two men like that don’t share space. Two men like that don’t cooperate. Two men like that don’t win together, they implode together! And when you implode, Eddie and I will be standing there, neither one of us surprised. Because Eddie Lyons is a professional, and I am the World Heavyweight Champion!"
“So this weekend, understand what you’re walking into. Eddie Lyons is coming for payback! He’s coming with the righteous anger of a man who should be on the road to Inception VIII with his name stamped on the title picture, not watching Alexander Raven taking up a spot he didn’t earn! Eddie is coming with the resolve of a man who has carried this company on his back while men like you two play politics and pretend that’s the same thing as achievement! And I’m coming with a promise that I will not let parasites and pretenders turn the World Heavyweight Title into a prop for their ego! A promise that I will not allow slithering opportunists and inherited entitlement to define what it means to be at the top!”
“Alexander, you can bring your conspiracy theories. Brayden, you can bring your family name. Bring Luna! Bring excuses! Because when the bell rings, none of that saves you when the work starts and the air gets heavy and you realize you’re standing across from men who don’t need shortcuts to be dangerous! And when it’s over, when the dust settles and the excuses start to form on your tongues like they always do, you’ll have to face the simplest reality of all. You tried to steal what you didn’t earn, and you ran headfirst into men who know the value of earning everything! This weekend, your little alliance of convenience becomes your downfall because you can’t trust each other, you can’t respect each other, and you can’t hold it together when it matters!”
“And Eddie? Let’s remind SCW what happens when the work meets the crown. You get past Brayden, I run over Raven, and in 2026? You and me. Finally.”