Turnberry Towers -
Las Vegas, Nevada
It was Wednesday evening and summer vacation was already in full swing for sixteen year old Kevin Chapman. He was sprawled out across the couch with his "just friend" Connor Wayley sitting beside him, close enough that their shoulders kept bumping every time one of them moved and both blushing and looking innocent every time it happened. From the back of the couch, the Queen of the Condo, Ms. Thang, was sitting behind Connor, staring down at him like she was considering whether he was worthy of shedding on.
Connor’s overnight bag had been sitting by the couch since his arrival earlier in the day. Connor’s mom had approved the sleepover earlier in the week, after a text exchange with Carter that had been both polite and practical. Connor and Kevin had slept over at each other’s homes before, enough times that there was a genuine trust between all parental figures in both boys’ lives.
Carter came out of the bedroom tugging his shirt down at it to make sure it sat right. It was black with the 2026 Masters of the Universe cast across the chest and He-Man raising the Sword of Power. Miles was already in the kitchen, dressed in a Skeletor t-shirt and was eating from a large jar of trail mix, but clearly only picking out the chocolate pieces and leaving the pretzels and nuts for everyone else.
Carter walked in and looked at him, saying, “You shouldn't spoil your appetite before dinner.”
Kevin looked up from his phone and asked, “Isn’t dinner at the movie theater just pizza, popcorn, nachos, candy, and whatever else they’re legally allowed to sell us?”
“Just pizza, popcorn and nachos!?” Miles exclaimed with mock severity, leaning against the counter. “Would you rather spend the evening eating Carter’s meatloaf?”
Kevin and Connor both shook their heads immediately.
Miles turned around and found Carter just looking at him. Miles smiled and put on his best angelic expression that nobody was buying. He cleared his throat and put a hand on his husband's shoulder, offering with reassurance, “Not that I don’t love it!”
Kevin lowered his phone just enough to say, “Nice save.”
Miles pointed at him. “Quiet, boy!”
Miles set the trail mix back down on the counter and, discretion being the better part of valor, turned to address the two teens and asked, “Are you looking forward to it?”
Kevin shrugged in that honest if not unfortunate way that teenagers seemed to have perfected when they did not realize they were this close to stepping on a land mine. “Yeah, it’s just a little before our time.”
The condo went quiet enough that one could hear the hum of the refrigerator and Ms Thang’s judgement. Connor, even though he wore a smile on his face, shifted a scant few inches away from the impending disaster.
Carter set his keys down on the kitchen counter and leaned heavily against it, “I beg your pardon?”
Kevin looked between them, “What? It is.”
Miles dusted his hands off and found himself taking a not-so-subtle waltz from the kitchen and closer toward where the two teens were relaxing. “Before your time?”
Kevin started to laugh, “Miles, I didn’t mean anything by it!”
Knowing Miles all too well, and sensing something was about to happen, Kevin shot up from the couch and tried to scramble around the far side of it, but barely made it two steps before Miles caught him by the back of his belt and lifted him up and across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry! Connor covered his mouth, already losing the fight not to laugh!
Then Miles started to spin around in an airplane spin, not fast enough to be dangerous, but definitely fast enough to turn Kevin’s yelps for help into laughter! Carter laughed outright, obviously enjoying the spectacle of their home while Connor’s eyes were as wide as his smile, taking it all in!
“Say it!” Miles called. “Say Masters of the Universe is timeless!”
Kevin’s voice cracked with broken laughter, “Uncle! Uncle! Masters of the Universe is timeless! It’s timeless!”
Miles slowed to a stop, laughing as he carefully lowered Kevin back to the floor and set him on his feet. Kevin stood there for one brave second and then collapsed backward onto the couch beside Connor!
Carter turned to Connor, hands on his hips. “And you?” He demanded. “Anything you’d like to add?”
Connor smiled right away and raised both hands in surrender. “I think Eternia is very important to our cultural heritage.”
Miles nodded. “Good answer.” And with a wave of his arm, guided everyone to the door to head out and have an evening of movie and nostalgia fun.
AMC Town Square 18
Inside the movie theater, the lobby felt like the theater had decided to stop being subtle about anything and just turn into a toy aisle that exploded in a shower of popcorn and nostalgia. There were posters that were being handed out, cardboard cut outs, a huge Masters of the Universe display near the ticket podium, and, across from the concession counter, the thing Carter had been pretending he was not looking for - Skeletor’s Bone Throne!
Carter stopped suddenly, pointing a finger with a silent face of wide-eyed delight, pointing straight ahead! “There it is! Photo ops!”
Kevin closed his eyes and groaned, “Is this what it’s like to be embarrassed by adults?”
Connor raised a hand with a smile and offered, “I can take the pictures for you.” Earning him a playful look of reproach from Kevin.
The throne was actually the first on their list of priorities, but once they saw the treasure trove of movie merchandise being offered and the way it was being sold to the theater goers, their priorities shifted to the concessions stand.
There was the Castle Grayskull popcorn bucket, Skeletor’s throne popcorn bucket, drink cups, a Power Sword sipper, character cups, a Battle Cat item that looked half plush and half collectible, and enough little add-ons that no reasonable person would buy all of it.
Of course, nobody ever accused Carter and Miles of being particularly responsible in matters like this.
The poor concession worker had to ring them up in stages because the counter could not hold all of it at once. Of course, it wasn’t just a matter of the merchandise! There was also all of that glorious, salty, buttery food! There was enough popcorn, candy, nachos, pizza and soft drinks for all!
Then Carter turned toward Kevin and Conn and gestured toward the mountain of merchandise. “Pick something.”
Kevin looked up from gathering the food he and Connor had selected for themselves at Carter and Miles’ insistence. “What?”
“Pick something.” Carter repeated. “You too, Connor. No arguing!”
“But…” Kevin looked over everything, that old feeling of being spoiled creeping up inside once again. A feeling the adults wondered if he’d ever grow out of. “You already bought the tickets and food?”
“And now we’re buying you something stupid from a movie lobby.” Carter countered. “Don’t ruin this for us.”
Kevin looked at Connor, unsure for half a second. Connor gave him a small shrug, like it was okay. Kevin looked at the Battle Cat plush collectible sitting on the display. “That’s kind of cool.”
Miles grabbed it immediately. “Done! Connor?”
Connor studied the options a little longer, then pointed at the Sword of Power cup. “That looks really cool, actually.”
Carter picked it up and handed it to him, Connor smiling wider than he probably meant to. “Thank you!”
By the time they left concessions, the Bone Throne became a matter of inevitability. It was simply THERE!
They waited in line behind a father and his sons. There were also two men who looked old enough to have watched the original cartoon when it aired, and a woman who had brought a vintage She-Ra action figure for the photo. When it was their turn, Carter sat first, leaning back on the throne, posing like he had been born for it.
Miles took his turn next, somehow looking even more comfortable on the throne than Carter had. He crossed one leg over the other and pretended to pet the Battle Cat popcorn bucket like a sinister villain.
Then Kevin and Connor took one together, Kevin sitting on the throne with Battle Cat in his lap and Connor standing beside him with the Sword cup raised like a true hero. They were laughing before the photo was even taken. Carter looked at the picture afterward and felt something warm and heavy settle in his chest. A sensation more than mutually felt by his husband looking over his shoulder.
“Okay!” Miles said after they gathered everything again. “Auditorium?”
“Wait…” Carter said. He then handed Kevin his and Connor’s printed tickets. “These are yours.”
Kevin took them, then frowned. “Wait. These aren’t next to you.”
“Nope.” Carter shifted Castle Grayskull under his arm. “We figured you might want space. You know, to watch the movie without sitting next to two grown men acting like fanboys over a cartoon that was around before any of us was born.”
Kevin stared at the tickets for a second longer than Carter expected. He cleared his throat and shared a look with Connor before smiling at Miles and Carter, “Thanks!”
Carter shrugged, “Don’t thank me yet. Miles might still throw popcorn at you two if you insult anything.”
Miles leaned in with mock menace. “My aim is excellent.”
They split at the auditorium entrance, not far from each other, just enough that the boys had their own row and the adults had theirs. Kevin and Connor headed down first, still carrying their souvenirs like prizes. Carter watched them for a second.
The movie passed in that strange way big anticipated movies did, where two hours felt both long and too short. Carter did not try to narrate it in his head. He just watched. He laughed when he wanted to laugh, squeezed Miles’ hand when they recognized the classic He-Man theme, and they both glanced over repeatedly at the rows ahead where Kevin and Connor sat shoulder to shoulder, their heads tilted close whenever one whispered something to the other.
When it was over, the lobby was loud with people talking all at once. Carter barely waited until they were out of the row before he started.
“I’m just saying, Nicholas Galatzine understood the assignment!” Carter declared as if daring anyone present to disagree. “He was the perfect Prince Adam/He-Man combo! I’d rather have someone that worked hard rather than some roided up freak that can’t act for shit! I can’t believe there are fans out there saying he was too puny! Sacrilege!”
Miles looked at Carter with a raised brow and questioned, “I’m going to end up as He-Man for Halloween, aren’t I?”
Carter adjusted his shirt with a great sense of both dignity and restraint, saying, “I am neither confirming nor denying anything at this time.”
Kevin walked up with Connor beside him, still holding Battle Cat. “I’m not saying I was wrong.”
Connor raised his Sword cup with a beaming smile. “I liked it.”
“Thank you, Connor.” Miles said. “A man of taste!”
“Oh he’s just saying that to score brownie points with you two!” Kevin laughed, then noticed the raised brows from both adults and he rolled his eyes, but the smile remained. “Fine, I admit it! I liked it too! Happy?”
Turnberry Towers
The drive home was easier than the drive there. Kevin and Connor were in the back seat, quieter now, tired in the way people got after a late movie and too much sugar. Battle Cat rested between them. Carter kept looking in the rearview mirror at the literal mountain of merchandise they had acquired in a single evening. All in all, a single evening made all the more memorable for all involved and in the best way.
But it was funny how some moments such as these were not meant to last.
The elevator ride up was mostly quiet except for Kevin yawning and Connor making a joke about how Kevin had talked a big game but was clearly falling asleep first. Kevin told him he was not, then immediately yawned again.
Miles carried most of the merch but Carter, Kevin and Connor each had their own respective armloads because Miles could only carry so much. There was still a matter of leftover drinks, popcorn and candy that went unfinished and could be munched on later at their earliest possible convenience.
The elevator doors opened on their floor and Carter stepped out first, seeing the basket before any of them reached the door. It sat right in front of their condo door, wrapped in clear cellophane and tied with purple and silver ribbon, the kind of thing someone would send after surgery or for a holiday.
Carter stopped walking.
Miles noticed before anyone else did. “Carter?”
Kevin, still half laughing at something Connor had muttered, quieted when he saw Carter’s back go still.
The basket was full of gourmet muffins, chocolate-covered pretzels, Carter’s favorite sour candy, and even a little black and white plush cat tucked near the front with green eyes and a bow, close enough to Ms Thang that Carter’s stomach turned.
A small card sat atop of the package, affixed with a thin ribbon and Carter’s own name scrawled on it in neat handwriting.
Carter did not remember setting down the drink carrier, but suddenly he had one hand free. He picked up the card because some dumb part of him needed to know, even though he already did.
“Just a little something so you know I forgive you. I hope we can still be friends.”
There was no signature. It didn’t need one.
Miles was beside him immediately. He did not grab the card from Carter’s hand. He looked at it over his shoulder and something in his face went hard in a way Carter both hated seeing yet desperately needed.
Kevin’s voice came from behind them, smaller now. “What’s wrong?”
Miles turned just enough to look at them. His voice was calm, but it was not a voice anyone argued with. “Inside. Both of you.”
Kevin hesitated. “Miles?”
“Connor.” Miles said, softer but still firm. “Take Kevin inside.”
Connor looked at Carter, then at the basket, then back to Carter. For a second he looked younger than sixteen. Then he nodded once and moved, no questions asked. Miles unlocked the door, waited until they were in, and handed Kevin the merch he was carrying.
“Lock it behind you until we come in.” Miles said.
Kevin swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” Before closing the door, and only after hearing the sound of the deadbolt did Miles turn around. He took out his phone and snapped two quick pictures. One of the basket, and one of the card still in Carter’s hand. Then he gently took the card from Carter and said, “Stay here.”
He picked up the basket with both hands, holding it away from his body like it was something toxic. Carter watched him walk to the garbage chute at the end of the corridor and shove the whole beautiful, disgusting thing inside.
Carter stood outside their door with Castle Grayskull at his feet and the evidence that a wonderful evening had just been completely obliterated. Miles stopped in front of him, picked up the buckets and cups, and waited until Carter looked at him.
“Let’s get inside.” Miles said, Carter nodding in agreement, silent and rattled.
Miles knocked once, the lock clicking almost right away. Kevin opened the door with Connor just behind him, both of them too quiet but there, but they were safe and waiting. Miles ushered Carter in first, always the role of protector. And only once Carter was safely across the threshold did Miles follow inside, the door closing and locking behind them.
“Brandon Hendrix, I hope you’re proud of yourself. I really do. I hope you looked at that card, saw my name across from yours, and got that stupid little grin on your face like you just got handed a night off. I know how your type thinks. You see Helluva Bottom Carter and you don’t see the name. You don’t see the history. You don’t see the championships. You see the height. You see the weight. You see the fact that I don’t walk around here acting like some discount action figure with anger issues, and you think you found somebody you can push around.”
“That’s cute, Brandon. It’s wrong, but it’s cute.”
“You probably think you hit the jackpot. You probably think you get to walk into this match, throw the little guy around, talk some trash, pose for your little fan club, and then pat yourself on the back like you actually did something important. But let me help you before you hurt yourself thinking too hard. I am not an easy night. I am not a name you get to step over. I am not here to be the latest stop on whatever sad little Brandon Hendrix self-esteem tour you’ve got going on. I am Helluva Bottom Carter. I am a former World Heavyweight Champion. I have been in that ring with men bigger than you, badder than you, nastier than you, and better than you, and baby, I am still here!”
“And that’s what you don’t understand. Size is not the whole story. Muscles are not the whole story. Looking like you bench press vending machines for attention does not make you dangerous. This business is full of big men who thought being big was enough, and most of them found out the hard way that a big body does not mean a big heart. It does not mean a sharp mind. It does not mean you can survive when somebody refuses to be scared of you!”
“And that’s your problem, isn’t it Brandon? You act big and you talk bigger. But when things stop going your way, when someone actually pushes back, that whole tough guy act starts to crack! And once it cracks, we all get to see what Brandon “F’n” Hendrix really is.”
“A sociological cliché in wrestling boots.”
“You are that big man everybody has seen before. The one who thinks intimidation is a personality trait. The one who stomps around like the room should move for him. The one who talks like every sentence needs to come with a threat attached, because apparently being loud is the only trick in the bag. You puff up. You posture. You run your mouth. But when it comes time to actually stand on your own two feet and prove something, where are you, Brandon? Where are you without the cheerleading squad? Where are you without the shortcuts? Where are you without people around you making noise so nobody notices how little you’ve actually done?”
“That is why this thing with my family matters. Because for some reason, you keep putting yourself in our path like you are begging somebody to finally deal with you. You started trouble with my brother-in-law, LJ Kasey. You ran your mouth. You poked the bear. You thought you could make a name for yourself at his expense, because that’s what you do. You pick a fight, you make a mess, and then you hope everybody remembers the noise instead of the details.”
“But LJ bit back, didn’t he?”
“LJ showed you that he was not some punching bag for Brandon Hendrix to play tough with. He showed teeth. He stood up to you. And the second that happened, the second he made it clear that he was not going to just sit there and let you run him down, you did what men like you always do when the fight gets a little too real.”
“You backed off.”
“And don’t try to dress it up as strategy. Don’t try to call it moving on. Don’t try to act like you had bigger business, because I know the difference between a man choosing his next move and a man realizing he might have bitten off more than he could chew. With LJ, you wanted to be big and bad until he reminded you that he could hit back. You wanted the attention until the attention came with consequences. So you got your cheap little win, you clutched it to your chest like it proved something, and you walked around here pretending you had conquered the world.”
“No, Brandon. You got away with one. That’s not the same thing.”
“Then there’s Miles. My husband. You’ve had your little run-ins with him too, and I bet that got under your skin more than you want to admit. Because Miles doesn’t need to act like you. He doesn’t need to scream every five seconds to convince people he belongs. He doesn’t need to surround himself with a pack of yes-men to look dangerous. Miles walks into a room, and people know exactly who he is. They know what he’s done. They know what he’s survived. They know what he can do.”
“And men like you hate that. You hate earned respect, because you can’t fake it. You can’t steal it. You can’t jump somebody from behind and pretend it belongs to you. You have to build it, and building something takes more than a big mouth and a bad attitude.”
“So now here we are. After LJ. After Miles. After you’ve spent all this time circling my family like a buzzard in a tank top, now you get Carter. And I know exactly what you’re thinking. You think I’m the easier one. You think I’m the smaller one. You think I’m the pretty one, the loud one, the one you can mock, the one you can overpower, the one you can turn into a highlight so you can watch it back and convince yourself you matter.”
“Bad news, Brandon.”
“You did not get the easy one. You got the one who is tired of your ass.”
“You got the one who has watched you puff up, pick fights, take shortcuts, and then act like everybody should applaud because Brandon Hendrix managed to be exactly as irritating as advertised. You got the one who knows what it is to be underestimated every single time he walks into a match. You got the one who has spent an entire career watching men look down at him, laugh, smirk, do the same lazy math in their head, and think, “He’s smaller than me, so I win.””
“And then the bell rings.”
“Then I move faster than they expected. Then I hit harder than they were ready for. Then they realize that my size does not measure my heart. It does not measure my experience. It does not measure my championship pedigree. It does not measure the amount of punishment I can take or the amount I can give back. You look at me and see an easy target, but I’ve made a career out of turning easy targets into hard lessons.”
“You are not the first Brandon Hendrix I’ve dealt with. That’s the part that should worry you. I have seen your type before. Loudmouths with big bodies and bigger insecurities. Bullies who think volume equals power. Men who build their entire identity around being feared, then fall apart when somebody looks them dead in the eyes and refuses to blink. That is where you and I are going to have a problem, because I am not scared of you.”
“Not even a little.”
“You want me to respect what you’ve done? Then do something worth respecting. Because what have you really proven, Brandon? You got a cheap win over LJ because that is what men like you do. You muddy the water, then brag about swimming. You tried to steal the spotlight by attacking Alexander Raven because you weren’t good enough to earn that spotlight honestly. You saw a man with a name, a reputation, and a history of walking through hell in this company, and you thought if you took a swing at him, maybe some of that importance would rub off on you.”
“It didn’t.”
“It made you look desperate.”
“You want to impress me? Call me on the day you can defeat a man like Alex Jones. Call me when you can survive and walk away from a match against Alexander Raven. Call me when your name matters because of what you did, not because of who you jumped, who helped you, or whose spotlight you tried to steal for five seconds of attention.”
“Because until then, all you are is a candy ass.”
“And I know that coming from me makes it worse. I know it does. Because I’m supposed to be the guy you laugh at, right? I’m supposed to be the smaller man. The easy man. The one you can shove out of the way while you march toward whatever fake destiny you’ve been selling yourself in the mirror. But that is exactly what makes this match so funny to me, Brandon. You are walking into this thinking you’re dealing with someone you can break, and you’re going to leave knowing you stood across from a former World Heavyweight Champion who has heard bigger threats from better men and still sent them home humbled.”
“I don’t need to be bigger than you to beat you. I just need to be better. Faster. Smarter. Tougher. And lucky for me, Brandon, I check every box.”
“So bring the attitude. Bring the swagger. Bring the cheap shots, because God knows that’s your comfort zone. Bring every bit of that fake tough guy energy you’ve been dragging around like it’s a title belt. But understand something before you step into that ring with me. Your little squad cannot wrestle this match for you. Your mouth cannot take the hits for you. Your ego cannot break your fall. And when you realize I’m still coming forward, still smiling, still refusing to stay down, that’s when the truth is going to hit you harder than I do.”
“You picked the wrong family.”
“You backed off when LJ bit back. You found out Miles Kasey is not a name you toss around unless you are ready for what comes with it. And now you get me. Carter. The one you thought was soft. The one you thought was small. The one you thought was just loud enough to entertain you and just light enough to break.”
“I am not here to entertain you, Brandon. I am here to expose you.”
“I am going to expose the bully. I am going to expose the coward. I am going to expose the man who needs backup to win, noise to matter, and shortcuts to survive. And when I am done, you can crawl back to your little cheerleading squad, pick up whatever pieces of pride you still have left, and explain to them how the smallest man on the roster made the biggest man in his own mind look exactly like what he is.”
“A candy ass with a catchphrase.”
