Final Fitting
Las Vegas, Nevada
The tailor shop was the kind of place LJ never would have voluntarily walked into five years ago even with his mothers. Everything smelled faintly of pressed fabric and expensive cologne with the wooden racks lined the walls, filled with suits that probably cost more than his first car. Mirrors seemed to exist at every conceivable angle, ensuring there was absolutely no escaping your own reflection.
At the moment, LJ was standing on a small raised pedestal in front of one of those mirrors while a tailor circled him with enough pins to qualify as a workplace hazard, "Hold still."
"I have been holding still."
The tailor adjusted a sleeve, "You moved."
"I breathed."
The man pointed a finger at him, "Exactly."
LJ looked toward the ceiling, "Law school is easier than this."
Across the room, Miles laughed as he stepped out of a fitting room, already pulling at the collar of the tux jacket he'd just finished trying on, "No it isn't."
"It absolutely is."
"No."
"It is."
Miles hung the jacket over his arm, "LJ, you've literally been stabbed with thumbtacks, thrown through tables, and had Brandon Hendrix try to murder you."
"Allegedly."
"And yet standing still for fifteen minutes is what finally breaks you."
"Because at least tables have the decency to explode on impact."
The tailor sighed loudly, and Miles grinned, "You know, Carter said you'd be impossible."
"Carter says lots of things."
"Most of them are correct."
"That's deeply upsetting."
The tailor finally stepped back, "There."
LJ immediately relaxed, "Thank fuckin’ Christ."
"Language."
LJ glanced at Miles, "You're not my mother."
"No," Miles replied, "I've met our mothers. Trust me, that's a very different level of terrifying."
That earned a laugh from both of them. The tailor wandered off toward a workbench, giving them a few minutes while measurements were written down. For a while neither brother said much, the quiet wasn't awkward, it rarely was anymore.
Miles settled into one of the nearby chairs while LJ remained on the pedestal, turning slightly toward the mirror again.
The suit fit perfectly, dark charcoal, sharp lines, clean shoulders. It looked grown-up....he looked grown up and that was the weird part.
LJ stared at his reflection for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Miles noticed immediately, "What?"
LJ shrugged, "Nothing."
"Bullshit."
LJ smirked, "You're getting old."
"You're avoiding the question."
"I learned from the best."
"Again," Miles said, "Bullshit."
LJ laughed quietly before looking back toward the mirror. The smile faded, not entirely but just enough, "You ever have one of those moments where you look at yourself and realize things are different?"
Miles leaned back, "Every time I find a gray hair."
"You have no gray hairs but the way things are going with Carter and Kevin, it wouldn’t shock me if it would happen sooner rather than later. But you know damn well that's not what I meant."
"I know." The older brother's tone softened slightly.
LJ folded his arms, "I don't know." He looked at his reflection again, "The last couple years have been weird."
"Understatement of the century there, bro."
"Yeah."
A small laugh escaped him.
Then he grew thoughtful again.
"When I first came here... When I first got to SCW, everything felt like I was trying to catch up." Miles stayed quiet as LJ continued, "I was your brother. That was the introduction. That was always the introduction no matter what, that I was Miles’ half-baby-brother."
He scratched the back of his neck, "Didn't matter where we went."
His voice wasn't bitter, just honest, "'Miles Kasey's little brother.'"
Miles looked down briefly, not because he disagreed because he knew. LJ continued staring at the mirror, "And I don't blame anybody for it. You'd already done everything."
“Well not everything...yet. But go on”
"Championships, main events. You had the reputation of one of the brightest stars and hardest works in the company." His eyes met Miles' reflection in the mirror, "You earned all that."
Miles nodded once, "But?"
LJ laughed softly, "You always know when there's a but."
"Call it an occupational hazard."
That earned a grin, then LJ's expression settled again, "But I don't think I feel that anymore. I mean..." He searched for the words, "People still know who you are."
That earned a chuckle, "Hard not to."
"But it doesn't feel like I'm chasing you anymore." LJ looked back toward the mirror, "I don't walk into rooms wondering if people are comparing me to you. I don't walk into matches wondering if I measure up, and honestly? I think that's because for the first time I stopped measuring myself against you."
Miles sat there for a moment, studying his younger brother, "You wanna know something?"
"What?"
"I've been waiting for you to say that for a while now."
LJ blinked, "Really?"
"Really."
Miles stood and walked closer, "You know what the funny thing is?"
"What?"
"I never wanted you to catch me."
LJ frowned, "That's a terrible motivational speech."
Miles laughed, "I wanted you to pass me." That got his attention, as the younger brother looked over. Miles shrugged, "That's the whole point. Every older sibling wants that. You don't spend years trying to help somebody grow because you hope they stay behind you. I wanted you to become your own man, and somewhere along the way..."
He gestured vaguely, "You did."
LJ looked away first, mostly because he suddenly felt very uncomfortable having feelings in public, "That's disgustingly wholesome."
"I know."
"We should fight about something."
"Agreed."
The silence lasted about three seconds, then LJ pointed toward the mirror, "You're still shorter."
"There it is."
"Had to do it."
Miles rolled his eyes, "One heartfelt moment."
"That's my limit."
The younger brother laughed and shook his head, but when he looked back at the mirror this time, something felt different. A chime came to his phone that LJ had stashed in his pocket. He pulled his phone out to an eyebrow raise.
“Interesting...”
“What? A dirty text from your wife-to-be?”
“No, and even if it was I wouldn’t show you. It’s from one of my professors at the school, Roth.” he would tap on the screen and read aloud, “Mr. Kasey, I do hope that your summer is going well. While I'd hate to bug you on your off-time, I was wondering if you could perhaps stop by my office at your earliest convenience as I have an offer for you that I would like to speak to you about personally.”
“Well that sounds ominous. I’d drop you, but Kevin has an appointment with the drivers-ed people for a lesson.”
“It’s all good, I can uber it.”
“Let me know?”
“When I know you will.”
An Opportunity
William S. Boyd School of Law
Las Vegas, Nevada
LJ was still trying to decide whether Professor Roth's message was a good thing or a bad thing by the time he stepped onto campus.
The summer semester hadn't started yet, which meant Boyd was considerably quieter than usual. There were still students around, of course. Law students were incapable of completely staying away from a building that actively contributed to their stress levels, but the usual rush of backpacks, almost comically oversized coffee cups, and exhausted first-years wasn't nearly as overwhelming as it normally was.
As he walked through the familiar hallways, he found himself wondering what exactly Roth wanted. The professor wasn't the sort of person who sent vague messages. He certainly wasn't the sort of person who asked students to stop by simply to chat. Which meant whatever this was, it probably mattered.
The door to Roth's office was already open when LJ arrived. He knocked lightly against the frame anyway before stepping inside. Professor Roth glanced up from a file spread across his desk and motioned toward the chair opposite him, "Mr. Kasey. Thank you for coming."
"Well now I'm definitely worried," LJ replied as he settled into the chair, "You're thanking me before I've even done anything."
Roth removed his glasses and sighed, "Your sense of self-preservation remains disappointing."
"That's fair." For a moment, the professor simply studied him. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it was enough to make LJ sit a little straighter.
Finally, Roth folded his hands together, "When you enrolled here last year, I'll admit I had concerns."
LJ immediately laughed, "Professor, with all due respect, I don't think those concerns were exactly hidden."
"No. They weren't." That honesty earned another grin, "I questioned whether you could realistically balance a professional wrestling career with the demands of law school. I questioned whether the travel schedule would eventually interfere with your coursework, and, if I'm being completely honest, I questioned whether your commitment to the law would survive once things became difficult."
LJ nodded, "Reasonable."
"I thought so." The professor leaned back slightly, "What I did not expect was for you to prove me wrong."
That caught him off guard, not because it was praise but because it was coming from Roth. The man wasn't incapable of compliments, but he treated them like valuable currency and rarely spent them unless absolutely necessary.
Roth opened a folder sitting on the corner of his desk, "Your grades remain among the strongest in your class. Your writing evaluations have consistently improved throughout the year. More importantly, your trial simulation performance several weeks ago attracted attention."
LJ's eyebrow raised slightly, "The mock trial?"
"The mock trial." A faint smile touched the professor's face, "I believe one student described your performance as 'bullying the law.'"
LJ immediately groaned, "Marcus."
"Marcus." The professor nodded once, "An accurate assessment, perhaps, but not an entirely professional one."
LJ couldn't help laughing, "I'll make sure to put that on my résumé."
"Please don't."
The room settled again before Roth slid a business card across the desk. LJ picked it up, glanced down, and immediately recognized the name, his eyes narrowed slightly and then widened, then narrowed again, "You're serious?"
"I generally try to be."
The litigation firm printed on the card wasn't just respected. It was the kind of place students hoped to land internships after years of work. The kind of opportunity that usually went to upperclassmen who already had established academic reputations.
Not first-year students. Certainly not first-year students who spent half their weekends getting thrown around wrestling rings.
"They reached out after the trial simulation," Roth explained, "One of their senior attorneys was present that day. He was impressed with your preparation, your presentation, and your ability to anticipate opposing arguments."
LJ looked down at the card again, "That's...unexpected."
"Good opportunities often are."
For a moment, he simply turned the card over in his hands. It felt strangely familiar, not the internship itself but the feeling. The same mixture of excitement and uncertainty he'd experienced when he first got accepted to Boyd. The same feeling he'd had when SCW offered him a contract. The same feeling that always appeared whenever a new door opened and he wasn't entirely sure what was waiting on the other side.
Finally, he looked back up, "Why me?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it as Roth's expression softened ever so slightly, "Because somebody saw your work. It wasn't because you're a wrestler. It wasn't because you're recognizable. It wasn't because of your last name." The professor nodded toward the card, "It was because somebody watched you perform in a legal environment and believed you had potential."
For the better part of a year, LJ had spent so much time proving that he could balance wrestling and law school that he hadn't stopped to consider whether he was actually becoming good at both. Apparently someone else had noticed.
Roth stood, signaling the meeting was nearing its end, "I suggest you contact them."
LJ rose from his chair as well, carefully slipping the card into his notebook, "I will."
As he reached the door, Roth spoke again, "Kasey."
LJ turned back, "Yes, Professor?"
For a moment, the older man seemed to consider his words, then he nodded once, "I'm glad I was wrong."
The statement was so unlike Professor Roth that it actually stunned him for a second, then a grin spread across his face, "Careful, Professor. Keep saying nice things and people are going to think you've gone soft."
"Get out of my office."
LJ laughed as he stepped into the hallway, but his hand immediately found the notebook tucked under his arm with the business card still there. For the first time since receiving Roth's text message, he understood why the professor had wanted to speak in person.
Some opportunities were too important to send through an email, and for the first time in a long time, LJ wasn't thinking about championships, ladder matches, or wrestling at all.
He was thinking about the future.
THE CONVERSATION CHANGES
South Pointe Park
Miami Beach, Florida
The camera opens on a beautiful South Florida evening as the sun slowly begins sinking toward the Atlantic Ocean. The water stretches endlessly behind him while waves roll lazily toward the shoreline. Tourists wander the boardwalk. Cyclists weave through the crowd. The entire city seems to be enjoying itself.
LJ Kasey stands near the railing overlooking the water, dressed simply in dark slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. There is no gym in sight. No wrestling ring. No dramatic backdrop.
Just a man taking a moment to think and for several seconds, he simply watches the ocean before finally turning toward the camera.
"You know, mate, I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about conversations."
A faint smile crosses his face.
"Not arguments. Not promos. Not all the usual wrestling bollocks where people stand in front of a camera and tell you how tough they are."
He shakes his head.
"I mean actual conversations."
The smile lingers.
"The kind where you suddenly realize you've been looking at yourself one way for years and everyone else stopped seeing you that way a long time ago."
His hands settle into his pockets.
"A couple weeks ago I was standing in front of a mirror getting fitted for my wedding tux. Which, by the way, is an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. If you've never had a tailor yell at you for breathing wrong, I highly recommend avoiding it."
A quiet chuckle escapes him.
"But I was standing there with Miles and we started talking." His expression grows more thoughtful, "About life. About wrestling. About where we've both ended up."
He looks down briefly before meeting the camera again.
"And somewhere in the middle of that conversation I realized something. I don't feel like I'm chasing anybody anymore."
"I spent years being introduced as Miles Kasey's little brother. I spent years wondering if I measured up. Wondering if people looked at me and saw me or if they saw the bloke standing next to me. Turns out eventually you stop asking those questions."
The breeze coming off the water tugs lightly at his shirt.
"Then last week I found myself sitting in Professor Roth's office at Boyd Law."
A grin immediately appears.
"Which is usually where good moods go to die."
He laughs softly.
"And for the first time since I started law school, somebody looked at my work and saw more than a wrestler trying to survive a semester."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"They saw potential, and I think that's where this conversation changes."
LJ slowly takes a step forward.
"Because for years people have been telling me I've got potential. They've told me my moment is coming. They've told me the future is bright, and I appreciate that, I genuinely do."
The confidence in his voice begins growing.
"But eventually there comes a point where potential isn't enough anymore."
His eyes lock onto the camera.
"Eventually you've got to stop talking about what somebody could become and start looking at what they've already done."
The smile is gone now.
Not replaced by anger.
Replaced by certainty.
"I stood across the ring from Alexander Raven with the World Heavyweight Championship on the line. I survived Brandon Hendrix. I balanced a professional wrestling career with law school. I've traveled across continents and in less than two weeks, I'll walk into Summer XXXTreme with the chance to become Internet Champion."
He spreads his arms slightly.
"So at what point does the conversation change? At what point do people stop talking about LJ Kasey like he's some promising young prospect? At what point do people start acknowledging that I belong in these conversations already? And that's where Ryan Keys comes in."
He nods respectfully.
"Because Ryan, I respect you. No sarcasm. No bullshit. Just plan brutal honesty. I respect the work you've put in. I respect the championship sitting on your shoulder, and I respect the fact that every time people talk about you, they talk about a champion."
The grin fades.
"They don't ask if you belong. They don't ask if you're ready. They don't ask if your moment is coming. Because everyone already knows you're there."
LJ points toward the camera.
"That's why this match matters."
The ocean crashes softly behind him.
"Not because your title is on the line because It isn't. Not because beating you makes me a champion. Nope."
He takes another step forward.
"This match matters because you're one of the measuring sticks in this company."
His voice lowers.
"And if I can walk into Coral Gables and beat the Roulette Champion two weeks before Summer XXXTreme..." A grin spreads across his face, "Then maybe the conversation will finally change. Maybe people will stop talking about potential. Maybe people will stop talking about someday. Maybe people stop acting like I need permission to sit at the table."
His eyes never leave the lens.
"Because Ryan, while you're preparing to defend your championship against Ciaran Doyle and Zayvion Lyons, I'm preparing to step into a ladder match with four other men and fight for the vacant Internet Championship. We've both got pressure. We've both got expectations, and we've both got a lot to lose."
The grin becomes almost dangerous.
"The difference is that you've already got gold around your waist. I'm still chasing mine and people should be very nervous about that."
The Florida sunset casts long shadows across the boardwalk as LJ takes one final step toward the camera.
"Ryan, this isn't personal. You're a champion. I'm trying to become one and on the final stop before Summer XXXTreme, I intend to remind everybody exactly why my name belongs in that conversation."
The grin returns one last time.
"So bring your best. Because you know full fucking well I'm bringing mine."
He turns away from the camera and looks back out toward the ocean.
When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost reflective.
"Potential was great. But I'm done living on potential."
The camera lingers on the Miami sunset as LJ stands overlooking the water.
"I think it's time for proof."
