March 9
Manhattan, New York
He still couldn’t get over the sight of the ornate industrial-style building that housed his friend Mattie Cormier’s new fashion design studio. It was hard to believe to Malachi that the feisty Latina girl that used to hang around backstage at wrestling shows sewing gear for him and his friends and family in the wrestling world now had her own fashion house, and was poised to unveil her debut collection to the world. Even if people thought of him as a grumpy asshole, he’d always had a soft spot for Mattie, and thought of her almost like a little sister. Of course, it helped that she was best friends with his wife and his actual sister, as well.
When he arrived at the studio, he was surprised to find it completely empty. With a puzzled expression on his face, he took a few tentative steps inside, wondering if he got the days mixed up. “Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing in the empty space.
The sound of heels above him had him looking up towards the lofted office space, and he was confused to see not Mattie, but rather her assistant Claire above him. She gave him a bright smile and a wave. “Hey Mal! Come on up!”
He shrugged his shoulders and headed up the staircase at the side of the studio, walking towards Mattie’s studio where Claire was standing, her iPad as always in hand. “Sorry about the lack of…well, anyone. While Ms. Cormier was away in London this past week, she gave all the designers some time off. They’d been working tons of hours to get her first collection out.”
“That’s kind of her,” he said. “But I thought she was due back now? Pretty sure today was the day she wanted me to come by for the fitting of my new gear.”
“Oh, she’s back. Just running a little late, is all. Probably still recovering from the jet lag.” Claire clutched the iPad to her chest, her big brown eyes blinking slowly at him. “If you like, I can get you started. I know where Ms. Cormier has your new gear stashed. You can start to try it on. I’m sure she’ll be here in a little bit.”
Mal gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Well, beats standing around, I guess. Lead the way.”
A bright smile appeared on her face as she took the lead towards the back of the loft where the changing rooms were. He remembered it from the last time he had been here with Bella…just before the pay-per-view that had changed the trajectory of their lives. The memory brought a soft smile to his face as they made their way past the kitchen/cafeteria area.
“Do you want a drink or something before we get started?” Claire asked, gesturing to the room.
Mal shook his head. “Nah, I’m set.”
They continued on to the fitting area, and Claire walked over to a set of doors against the far right wall. She typed a code into an electronic keypad and pulled on the door handle, revealing a wardrobe stuffed full of what appeared to be wrestling gear. All different colours and types of fabric could be seen, and Mal let out a low whistle. “Hard to believe she still has time to make all this stuff for us when she’s a big time fashion designer now.”
“Well, a lot of this is stuff she’s made over the years. Things she’s had ideas for, but no one in particular in mind to wear them. She keeps them for just the right occasions…at least, that’s what she tells me.” Claire rifled through a few hangers, pulling some things out and immediately putting them back. “Ah, here it is!” She lifted out one hanger that had a mid-length sleeveless hooded jacket in a deep green colour hanging from it. Claire opened the zipper on the jacket and in a clear bag attached to the hanger was a matching pair of trunks in his preferred style as well as kickpads to go over his boots and knee pads as well. She held it up with a flourish. “Ta-da! Ms. Cormier’s latest piece de resistance!”
Mal took the hanger from her hands, staring at the gear in awe. “Just when I think she couldn’t do any better, she goes and proves me wrong.” He chuckled. “I swear, that woman must have made a deal with the Devil or something, with the talent she has.”
Claire giggled a bit. “Well, don’t just stand there! Try it on!” She gave him a gentle push in the direction of the changing stalls, and he walked over to them. Locking the door behind him, he quickly changed out of his street clothes and into the new gear. He left off the kick pads and knee pads for the time being, but as he slipped the jacket over his arms to settle it across his shoulders, he already knew this may well be one of his favourite sets of gear so far. It fit perfectly, and the material felt luxurious but also durable. He unlocked the door and stepped out into the main area, making his way over to the set of mirrors on the far side of the room.
He heard a gasp behind him, and turned to see Claire with her hands over her mouth and her brown eyes wide. “Oh my gosh! You look amazing! One of Ms. Cormier’s finest works to date!”
When Claire walked up to approach him, her foot became tangled in a pile of random fabric that had been on the floor, and she began to fall forward with a little scream. But quick as a flash, Mal had darted forward and tried to catch her before she hit the floor. But as he did so, he ended up tumbling himself, and the two of them landed together on the floor, him on his back and her on his chest. She looked up at him almost shyly. “Are you OK? I can’t believe I just did that! I’m such a klutz!”
“I’m fine. Professional wrestler, remember?” He gave a wink. “Are you OK, though?”
“I think so. My foot got caught in that fabric, and I think I might have twisted my ankle a bit.” She was still lying on his chest, her hands pressed against him. He felt a little awkward, so he gently shifted her off to the side so that he could sit up. For a moment, he thought he caught a look of disappointment across her face, but then she looked down to her foot and gently touched it with her hand, wincing slightly. “Yeah, it’s a bit sore. Do you think you could help me to the kitchen so I can get some ice for it?”
“Yeah, of course.” He got to his feet and lifted her up into his arms, carrying her out of the dressing room and out into the hallway. They had just rounded the corner to go to the kitchen, when a light cough drew their attention. They glanced up to see Mattie standing just in front of them, coffee in hand and an eyebrow raised.
“Oh, Ms. Cormier!” Claire squeaked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly pink. “Mal got here a bit early, so I just thought I’d get him to start trying on the new gear, and then I tripped and I twisted my ankle, and he was just helping me to -”
Mattie held up a hand, and Claire stopped mid-sentence. “I told you I was just in line at Starbucks and I would be here soon.” She let out a sigh. “Well, what’s done is done. Better get some ice on that ankle. I’ll be in the dressing room when you’re done, Mal, so I can see how this gear fits.”
Mal gave a nod and walked into the kitchen, gently placing Claire down on a chair. He rummaged around in the drawers and found a small plastic bag, which he filled up with ice from the dispenser on the front of one of the fridges. He walked over and knelt down in front of Claire to rest the bag of ice on the ankle that she had propped up on another chair, and she gave him an apologetic smile. “I hope Ms. Cormier isn’t too mad at you. I just thought I was helping.”
Mal gave her a reassuring pat on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll just say it was my idea.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, though it seemed dangerously close to his lips and lasted just a few seconds too long. “Thank you.”
He straightened up and with an awkward smile, he turned and headed out of the kitchen and back to the dressing room.
—-----
A little while later…
Arriving back at his townhouse, Mal tried to put the odd incident with Claire out of his mind as he typed in the passcode on the electronic lock and let himself into the house. Immediately he heard the scrabble of dog paws on the hardwood and he smiled as Luka came dashing towards him. She slid to a stop right in front of him, tail thumping against the side table as she barked a couple of times.
“Heya, Loony Luka,” he said as he slid off his boots, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. “Where’s Mama at?”
Immediately Luka took off for the living room, and Mal followed after her. He saw the back of Bella’s head as she sat on the couch, but as he walked around to sit beside her, he noticed that she wasn’t alone…
His eyes went wide as he gaped at the swaddled bundle in her arms. “Um, pardon the language…but what the fuck is that?”
She glanced up at him sharply. “Shhh! I just got him to sleep!”
“And just who is ‘him’, exactly?” Mal said, his voice lower as he sat down beside his wife.
“This is Dax, Kallie and Aiden’s little one” Bella cooed, as she turned her gaze back to the sleeping baby in her arms. “Kallie asked me to watch him for a couple hours while she and Aiden went to work out.”
He raised an eyebrow over one eye, giving her an incredulous look. “And you’re telling me that in the entire city of New York, with all the people they know, they had no one else to watch him?”
“I think it was a whole Wolfslair thing at the gym today. Her, Aiden, Alicia, Johanna…they all went in. And, well, since I’m kind of out of commission for the next year or so…” She gave him a sly look. “Besides, it’ll give us a bit more practice!” She turned towards him and gently extended her arms out towards him. “Here. You didn’t really hold Cruz while we were down visiting Lach and Sierra, so here’s your chance.”
He rolled his eyes. “Bella, I know how to hold a baby,” he said, as she gently placed the swaddled infant in his arms. He looked down, and despite himself a soft smile came over his face. “I’ll admit it, the little guy’s pretty cute.”
Bella laid her head on his shoulder as she looked down at Dax with him, running her hand along the top of his head. “Just think, this will be us soon. You, me, and our own little one in our arms.” She rubbed her other hand along her slightly swollen belly.
He looked back up at her, a smile forming across his face as he leaned in to kiss her sweetly. “I can’t wait.”
—----
“Three wins, no losses. Gotta say, it’s a good feeling walking into Blaze of Glory with that record.”
With a slightly cocky smirk gracing his face, Malachi sat up on the rooftop patio of his New York townhome. The sky was coloured a dark grey with low-hanging clouds that looked as if they were about to dump snow at any moment, and a light breeze carried a chill through the air. But the fire crackling away in the firepit in front of Malachi kept him warm enough, the orange light reflecting in his bright blue eyes. He slid his hands into the pockets of his winter coat as he turned towards the camera.
“But what’s going to make that feeling even better is when I walk out of Blaze of Glory with a new piece of hardware and become the new SCW Roulette Champion. The thing is Goth…you don’t need this title. You’ve done it all in this company already. The only reason you’re still here is pure narcissism. You want to keep clinging to the good ol’ glory days. Your eyes are so clouded with nostalgia that you can’t see the future passing you by.”
A lift of his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Harsh? Maybe. But considering how I used to be, this is actually kind of tame for me, you have to admit. All I’m doing is pointing out facts. You have a whole roster of hungry young talent, eager to climb the ranks and make their name, but when you have some old-timer gatekeeping the way it’s a bit frustrating to say the least. So I’m here to bulldoze the roadblock and open the path for the new generation to take over.”
He shifted his weight from side to side, the snow under his feet crunching. “If I’m being completely honest, I actually wasn’t expecting my first title shot quite so soon after making my comeback. I figured I’d have to build up a little more steam. After all, it’s been two years since the last time I competed here in SCW. Not that I’ve been slacking off by any means, but I figured I’d need a bit more momentum on my side before going on my first title run, despite the fact that I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m coming for all the gold this year. Not to mention, I am currently undefeated since making my return, including one of the toughest matches I’ve had to date at the last Climax Control against HBC. And now…I’ve got all the momentum on my side, and I’m not about to slow down.”
“Much like my brother did before me, I’m not walking into this match thinking it’s going to be a cakewalk by any means. There is a reason you’re a decorated champion and a hall of famer, after all. I saw the war you went through with Lachlan, and I will admit, you still have a hell of a fight in you. And I know that you’re going to fight tooth and nail to keep that title around your waist. But I’ve never been more determined, more focused on anything in my life right now. Like Lachlan before he won the Internet title off you last year, I haven’t held singles gold in SCW yet…but that’s all going to change on Sunday. By the end of this year, I guarantee that my championship record is going to be a mile long, and it all starts at Blaze of Glory when I become the new SCW Roulette Champion.”
He took a power stance in the centre of the camera frame, folding his arms across his chest and widening his feet slightly. The firelight washed over him and gave him an almost otherworldly glow as he spoke. “And one thing I promise when I do become champion - I am going to elevate that title. Right now, it’s looked at as nothing more than a gimmicky bottom-tier belt, an afterthought.” He shook his head, a hard glint of determination flashing in his blue eyes. “Not under my reign. A championship is only as good as its champion, and I plan on being the best damn champion in this entire company. Bar none.”
“So Goth, I want you to come prepared. I want you to come ready for the biggest fight you’ve ever had. Because when it’s all said and done and that final bell rings at the end of the match, you’ll know without a shadow of a doubt that your time is up, and my time is just getting started.”
He raised a hand to run his thumb along his throat in his signature gesture, before the camera focused in on the roaring flames before slowly fading out to black.
