[Roux]

 *Off Camera*

“How can you not be pissed that everything that we’ve worked for is going in the garbage at this point?”

He’d been at it for hours, and I was honestly only half paying attention at this point. We’d spent the better part of the day in an attic with no central air, and my patience evaporated before this particular rant ever started. I can tell he’s waiting for a response, but it’s not in my nature to cave into him, especially in this state of mind.

“Not going to even bother answering?”

I turn from the box in front of me, spinning to see my own face looking back at me. Surprisingly, the thought only ever struck me when he was angry. I guess we don’t see our own faces at the height of our own rage. Nobody thinks to pause to look into a mirror at a time like that. Luckily for me, I was shared a womb with my own mirror image. I hope I didn’t look as bad when I was irritated.

“Porter, we’ve been over this. There’s nothing that we can do about it. We showed up because the tag division was booming. It has taken a downward turn. Things happen. It’s not the first bump in the road. Calm down.”

It doesn’t work, and I knew it wouldn’t before the words even left my mouth. Like a child, he pushes the box across the table, away from me, slamming both fists against the table in front of me.

“I didn’t come to this country, to be a glorified manager. I didn’t come to stand outside the ring and clap my hands while you did something worth doing. This is supposed to be the both of us together. We recruited everyone else to keep those titles, and those pursuing them, off our backs. Why waste all that time if we were going to give up and chase after them. We came here as a team. If there are no teams, we should leave.”

I knew it would only be a matter of time before he suggested as much. I can’t help but look down, letting out a heavy sigh. On one hand, he was right. On the other, I couldn’t tell him that without him lording it over my head for the foreseeable future. The reason I had stayed quiet and let him vent was to buy time to find that answer.

“We came here to win the tag team championships. That hasn’t changed, and I haven’t forgotten that. The problem is, we don’t control the booking. We don’t determine what teams show up and which ones flake out. If the division can’t sustain itself, the owners have to do what they have to do. You of all people should understand that this is out of our hands.”

Looking back up, I could see that he did, but that it didn’t matter at all.

“Deciding to stick it out, or leave, is in our hands. We said we would give them time to make it up to us. They gave us that title match. Now they are taking it away and saying that there might not even be titles to chase? We gave them a chance, several if you think about it, they failed. It’s time to go.”

“Is it?”

This time I don’t shy away from letting my eyes meet his. Porter had been mostly calling the shots since the moment we came back from Japan. Was that my fault? Mostly. I had made the mistake of letting him get too comfortable thinking that this partnership was one-sided when it came to making decisions. Each week got more condescending. I could tell that my words struck a nerve though, because he pulls his hands back from the table. I could have let just that question hang in the air until he came up with a way to justify his answer, but I didn’t want to torture him the way he would me.

“We came for the tag titles, and correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re at the front of the line right now. If the titles disappear for a little bit, it’s a setback, but it’s manageable. Sin City banks too much on promoting their Grand Slam Champions and Triple Crown Champions to go too long without being able to crown new ones. The titles will come back, and the line will have remained unchanged. Until then, we find something to occupy our time. We lost two champions from The Black Sheep. Maybe we do some recruiting. Maybe we go get titles of our own. Either way, it beats the hell out of going somewhere new and starting all the way over again. I don’t know about you, but that sounds more difficult, and less fun, than sticking it out.”

I can watch him connect the dots in his head even as the words are still coming out of my mouth. As similar as we appeared, we couldn’t think more differently from one another. It’s hard not to get distracted with his eyes darting back and forth as I speak, almost like he is reading from a book. By the time I finish, he has not only processed what I said, but undoubtedly played out each scenario to the most logical conclusion. The fact that his expression had softened in the meantime told me all I needed to know about pulling the box back over to me.

“Can we please find this lockbox mama needs please? I’d like to get out of this attic before the end of the day.”

It was a request that I doubted he would take seriously. In all the time we spent up here, no more than fifteen boxes had been gone through. Of those, Porter had done two. Being helpful was not his thing. If I asked him about it, he would even say he was just here for moral support. I should consider myself lucky that he sits down on a cooler on the other side of the table, allowing me to rummage through the box in front of me on the table. It’s only then that Porter reaches into the box next to him, and pulls out a small, metal, rectangular box and places it on the table.

“I found it a while ago…”

I was wrong. This was the reason that he stopped arguing. He realized that he wasn’t going to make me mad, or change my mind no matter how much venting he did, so he went another route to get at me. I’d seen him do it to Calla so many times, but thought that I was an exception. I don’t give him the pleasure of raising my voice, and try to force a fake smile even though I know he will see through it. It is the effort that is going to get under his skin.

“Good.”

He smiles, but I can tell that he is enjoying the moment a little less given that it didn’t work to dig at me. He stands up from the cooler, turning towards the stairs. I know that I should let him go. I know that letting him go would end the argument in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to call it a victory for himself. I try to bite down on my tongue, but the words come anyway.

“... just one question though.”

When Porter turns back to me, I can already see the glee on his face. The entirety of his body language had changed from just moments ago. The fact the he knew I was on the verge of breaking made all of the difference. At this point, he had already won. I knew it just as well as he did. He doesn’t even answer me with words, instead giving me a slight up-nod and raising his eyebrows to show that he was actually listening. I try and find words that have nothing to do with either topic, a lie to waste his time, but the words that come out don’t fill either of those requirements.

“How many boxes did you watch me go through after you found it?”

It comes out in a much more even tone than i thought it was going to, and I manage to cling to how impressed I was by it that the smile on my face seems more genuine. It damages his mood a little, and I can see him play through in his head what he would do if I was actually unphased by it all. For a second, he actually fears he may have lost the game at the finish line. He points towards all opened boxes.

“All but the first two.”

I don’t even care at this point. I slam both hands on the table, palms down, hard enough to shake the floorboards under the table and make the whole attic creak. It doesn’t matter that he won the argument, now he was going to listen to what I was holding back from saying.

“You mean to tell me that you sat up here, all day, bitching and complaining, wasting my time, and you found it in the first fifteen minutes that we were up here?”

He shrugs, not moving from the top of the stairs. He hadn’t gotten his way, so he was settling for irritating me. Maybe if he was capable at leaving it at that, it wouldn’t be so bad. I knew there had to be more to it before he even started though. I had been baited into a trap, and only saw it after he was about to close it.

“Wasting your time?”

He comes away from the stairs, taking a few steps back towards me and the table.

“You do nothing but waste my time. You show up late to meetings, to shows, to random lunches that you set up. You miss planes. You cost us our titles in Japan, and a hell of an unbeaten streak at the same time. You ignore important things for girls. You made me do all of the scouting for SCW by myself because you were taking a break from things. You force me to act like your babysitter, while people celebrate you for our wins, and blame me for our losses. You want me to sit around and wait while you compete in singles matches, and I hope for the tag titles to return, but I am the one wasting your time?”

By the time he finishes, he has both of his palms flat on the table and is leaning in towards me. I didn’t even realize it until after he was this close that each time he had taken a step forward, I had sat back a little more in my chair. He was waiting for an answer, and I didn’t even know what I was going to say before the words started coming out.

“I can win this match. I can beat a lot of the guys on this roster easily. You’ve been so busy looking at teams, and where has that gotten you? There aren’t any teams left. All of that work was for nothing. I’ve paid attention to the rest of these guys though. You were always so set on Kris joining the team that you didn’t care about the rest that weren’t actual threats to us. I did.”

He leans back a little, not sold on the idea, but at least softening enough to hear out what I was saying. If I was honest, I was making it all up as I went, saying the words as they occurred to me.

“If the tag titles go away, which we don’t even know is for sure going to happen…”

That was the important part, and I hadn’t been able to sway him on that idea yet. We had not heard any confirmation one way or another. This whole argument was sparked by rumors, which made it all the more maddening.

“... I can still keep us in the spotlight. James Tuscini is facing off against Ryan Keys for the Internet Championship. Are you honestly telling me that no matter who walks out with the championship, it couldn’t be ours within a matter of weeks if we tried? Mark and Christian promised us a shot at Violent Conduct. If the tag title one is off the table, why not just make them follow through a different way? The Black Sheep still ends up a three champion stable, and we keep our place in line for whenever the tag titles come back around. No restarts. No building from the bottom again, just biding our time.”

Porter takes a seat on the cooler, looking away. His eyes are darting back and forth again, which is the best sign that i could hope for. The anger was gone, because he couldn’t argue that it was making a lot more sense. I knew there would be at least one hang-up though, and it didn’t take long for him to find it.

“It doesn’t sound like you need me then.”

He was wrong, but he probably already knew that. I knew that i was asking a lot of him, and this was going to be his price. If any of it was going to fly, I was going to have to pander to him a little.

“I can’t hope to keep an eye on Kris and Mikah. I can’t put out the fires that they start like you can. You deal with the two of them much better than I can. You can keep The Black Sheep together. Plus, you’ll be in my corner the whole way. After all, I can’t manage to do anything right, or at least not on time. I wouldn’t survive the whole thing without your help. Plus, even if there are no titles around for us, it doesn’t make us less of a team. But… if you go away for a while, there’s not going to be anyone around to keep reminding Mark and Christian about our spot in line. I guess it’s up to you.”

I can tell he wants to agree, but from his expression, was still going to argue. Instead of letting him, I cut him off before he can get a single word out.

“...and if you let me try this, and I fail, you get to rub it in my face that it was my fault and I should have listened to you.”

The smirk returns to his face. Even with all of the good that could come of it, it was the possibility of getting to blame the negatives on someone else that got the best reaction from him. Every set of twins does have an evil one, and it’s not difficult to see that it’s not me in this moment. He could have answered one way or another, but that would have been too close to giving me what I wanted. Instead, he nods, and points at the box on the table.

“Don’t forget to bring that down when you come. Mama’s already going to be disappointed you took all day to find it.”

He winks, and turns back towards the stairs, disappearing down into the house. It was hard not to feel good though, despite his last attempt to get under my skin. It had been a long time coming, but I finally won one. Compared to this, Climax Control was going to be easy.


+++++++++++++
*On Camera*

“The age of Aquarius or so my opponent might have you believe. The confessed stoner with an edge after being out of a ring for years, but this is not new or shocking information. Any idiot with a smartphone can read this from his bio on the SCW website.”

Killian, the more charismatic of the two Sweete Twins, is lounging back on a couch, his head propped up on the armrest at the end. As was typical, he’s dressed to impress in a full suit that’s only getting more wrinkled the longer he lays there.

“This gentleman would have you believe that he has come to lead this company up from the ashes he claims it has become. Like he is our messiah and we should grovel and kiss his feet in reverence.”

A roll of his eyes is all he needs to sell exactly what his thoughts on the matter actually are. It’s hard for a person like Killian, or even Porter for that matter, to get behind this kind of idiocy.

“Oh course if the man could look beyond his arrogance and own self view of feigned importance he would see what I and everyone else does... just another minor blimp on the SCW radar. Anyone can come in and make some ripples in the pond but that doesn't mean you’re going to make any waves. ”

He looks over towards the camera, shrugging his shoulders, and shaking his head in disappointment.

“Not everyone can come in and make the grand entrance that The Black Sheep did. When we came in, we talked a big game as well. The difference? We actually backed up those claims. People saw us backstage planning our emergence. We scouted. We knew exactly what we were walking into, and it didn’t stop us. When the chosen day came, The Black Sheep walked out one of the best teams in this company, surrounded by every meaningful champion this company had to offer at the time. Even now, look at us. We stand shoulder to shoulder with the two current longest reigning champions, and are number one contenders in our own right. I stepped out of my comfort zone a couple weeks ago, and won a decisive victory against one of the members of the stomach-turning tag team champions. We are nothing short of the greatness that all these newcomers promise. We’re also the only ones that delivered on those promises. Why has everyone but us failed? Thousands of reasons. Why will this Aquarius fellow? I’m so glad you asked.”

Killian uncrosses his ankles, sits up, and turns to plant his feet to the floor. His palms come together in front of his chest, and he runs them back and forth across each other while he picks his words carefully.

“First of all, this man is not quite used to the six sided ring. Second of all, don’t stay away, get rusty, then just jump in and say you’re going to be king. I learned pretty quickly that past successes mean nothing to the roster here. Sure it gets your foot in the door with the hiring staff, but after that, no one gives a shit. You might as well be a rookie.  And you know what? I am in the same boat. I have had exactly ONE singles match here before this one. My experience lies in tag matches, however since the fate of the tag division is wholly unknown, I am not content to sit in the bullpen waiting. So after running Mickey Carroll over, my next supposed challenge is you. I could complain about being the opening match. I could complain about facing some dipstick who gives ‘Stoner’ Scott Oliver a run for his money, but instead I choose to be humble and prove why I deserve to be in the running for a shot at the Men’s Internet title. But that is another topic for another day. Instead let’s talk about your campaign to bring peace to our company with your presence.”

Again, the disgusted look on his face and a noticeable roll of his eyes give away that nothing he has seen from his opponent has been impressive. There’s a clear urge to pile on the insults, but he chokes that back, taking the academic approach instead.

“I don't know if you’re familiar with the 1969 Fifth Dimension song or the actual definition of ‘The Age of Aquarius’ but to sum it up, supposedly the spiritual meaning is that it is going to be a time of peace and love for all. It's mostly gibberish created by hippies so high on LSD that they have these crazy ideas about how things should be. Sound familiar yet?”

He cracks a half-smile, not able to stop himself from drawing a comparison between the subject matter and the man he is speaking to.

“It should because how can anyone trust what a professed stoner says. A violent stoner for that matter. One with a killer edge. I don’t know how many stoners you’ve met, but most of them are content to sit on the couch eating chips and watching cartoons. I haven’t ever met someone who gets high and gets hostile. Maybe that drug you claim to be hooked on isn’t what you’ve been smoking. Even if it is, not only are you a liability in the ring, you are a risk to yourself. You are going to be rusty at the least, sloppy if the drug thing is not just a ploy for attention, and embarrassing if you are honestly going to try and get the crowd behind you. They don’t like me much, but they’ve seen a guy like you come in and fall flat on his face. Want to know what’s going to happen when you ride into Climax Control?  I can save you the suspense of waiting to see for yourself.”

He pauses, looking from the camera, to a window off screen. He lets the request sit for a second before answering.

“...they’re all gonna laugh at you. And then, like all the others you run crying from SCW with claims of being held back or dismissed by the bigwigs. Then will come the twitter rants and the mic drop segments but the result will be the same. No one will give a shit. You know how I know? You know how I can read your future so well? Sin City already had to suffer through the likes of Xander Bishop, and as far as I can tell, you’re basically a clone. You are going to come in talking a huge game, with an abrasive personality, and hopes that the chips fall on your side of the table. When they don’t, you’re going to have a hard time backpedaling. You’re going to stumble over your words trying to justify the things that you have said. Nobody is going to buy it, and eventually someone is going to maim you out of spite, or you are going to walk away all on your own. Neither involve you sticking around for very long.”

He pushes up from the couch, and the camera turns with him as he walks across the room. The first thing he does is straighten his jacket, even going as far as to properly align the cuff of his sleeve with his shirt underneath.

“Asking for recognition doesn’t get you recognition. Claiming greatness in your debut doesn’t make you great. Nobody is going to stand behind you based on your words. This is a business that requires action. It requires you to go out and win. It requires you to stick around in the face of adversity. It requires you to go out and win a championship, and earn the people that back you up. However, not even simply having a championship in SCW makes you its leader. It is like any other trophy. It's about being the best at that given moment. James Tuscini is currently a champion. Nobody is lining up behind him shouting out his name. No fans are paying to see him. Your fate is the same. No one will follow a clown. Certainly not an old, rusty, drug addicted clown. That’s just reality. I’m sorry to be the one to have to break that to you.”

His mood suddenly changes from dark and venomous to the light hearted smile the fans are used to.

“But you know, I get why you would use Aquarius. They are arguably the smartest and most clever people of the Zodiac. Known for thinking outside the box... leaders even, which, as we’ve established, is something that you’re not.. However, their mouths tend to get them into trouble too. They think with their emotions rather than logic, and they are the best sign to become an actor or entertainer.  Their problem is they are not worldly nor do they carry much experience opposed to what they learn from reference materials. The thing about all of this... you can’t lead an army with words nobody believes in and judging by the look of you, there’s not much else worth putting faith in.”

He grabs a glass from the bar in the corner of the room, and then fills it with a dark liquid from a decanter. The whole process only takes a few seconds, but when he turns, he is holding the glass out to the camera.

“Don’t let it be said that I’m not a humble host. My brother may hate me for it, but I wouldn’t let us part without a gift, a toast, to you. May your time in this company, as short is it may be, not be as embarrassing as we all know it will be. Let the disappointment you will experience here not follow you through the remainder of your career. Don’t let the sounds of laughter, and the sights of people chuckling at the mere sight of you haunt your dreams and turn them into nightmares. Let the damage that I’m going to inflict on you, ease quickly. Andre, you came to the wrong company, at the wrong time, and got dragged into a match with the wrong opponent. Tonight we drink a toast to your inevitable exit from this company. Sunday night we officially get that process started.”

He raises the glass to his mouth, winking at the camera as he does.

“To the stoner with a killer edge… as contradictory as that sounds.”

He takes a drink, as the camera fades to black.