Post by Deleted on Nov 15, 2022 23:54:05 GMT -5
Duke Penthouse
Woolworth Tower
Tribeca, New York City
For the last seven days, that has not been the case. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife and adore my kids but Lauren and I have not been getting along very well this past week. Since her heartbreaking loss to Harmon Egan, she has been… a lot to handle. It’s not that we’ve been fighting nonstop either. It’s just that there has been a lot of obvious tension in the way we’ve been speaking and treating each other. That tension has been so real that I’ve found excuses to stay at work long after I’ve truly needed to.
Her and I, when it comes to professional ebbs and flows, the inevitable ups and downs of wrestling and our careers as competitors, we’re just wired differently. It’s true that I have this unbreakable confidence and that makes it difficult for me to see things through her eyes.
Today though, as I sat in my office this evening and watched the sun go down over the city, everything that needed to be done was finished and I sat and thought for a long while. I wasn’t *always* so confident. I didn’t *always* have my head so put together. When I was 19 and 20 years old, my head was an absolute mess. I was in the middle of a comeback story that was… underwhelming. I was still winning, but during that period I suffered defeats to some vastly inferior opponents.
I was not myself. I’d take two steps forward and one and a half back. I was so frustrated, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me or why the early success I had during my rookie year didn’t hold up. It didn’t carry on into year two or three. I was rattled to my core that I couldn’t figure it out and I lost my head. I blew my top and had that proverbial nuclear meltdown, lashing out at anyone and everyone when all the while, the fault for my struggles lay at my feet. On my doorstep.
You all know that I made myself famous in the XWF. That’s not a secret. After that meltdown, my own uncle fired me. At the time, I hated him for it. Despite my personal and professional struggles, I was still wildly popular. The fans still lined up to see me. How could the company that was rebuilt on the name ‘Duke’ have fired their “favorite son?”
During my forced vacation, I started seeing Dr. DeVille in Manhattan. It wasn’t easy. It’s hard for big tough men to admit they don’t have control over something. In the beginning, I’d laugh at him. I’d mock him to his face. Yet he endured. It turns out, my Uncle Theo firing me was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It gave me the chance to reset and refocus while working on my mental blocks.
Seven months later, I returned. I signed a brand new two year deal with the XWF and I shot out of the starting gate like a rocket. And I’ve never looked back.
That’s all I want for Lauren. To help her find a way through the hurt, and disappointment and come out the other side all the better for it. Sitting in thought about my own past made me miss her. No, I wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable figurative razor knives that spit from her mouth in my direction. Instead, what I’m longing for is a reset. A pause. A chance to just take a step back from the war front.
Stepping off the elevator at Woolworth Tower, I came face to face with my front door. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hesitate. Sighing deep, I open up and step inside.
“You’re home early,” she says from the armchair with a noticeable ‘point’ to her words. Nevertheless, she doesn’t even look up from her phone.
“Yeah,” I say quietly as I throw my keys in the bowl on the stand near the entryway. Advancing through the living room, I place my briefcase on the bar and temporarily hang my jacket over the barstool.
“You don’t even do anything when you go to work,” she says as she stands from the chair and approaches me. “What could you possibly have in there?” she asks in a mocking tone, pointing with a nod to the briefcase.
“Very important things,” I say quietly.
“Show me,” she insists.
To which, I just look at her.
“Show me what’s in your briefcase Mr. CEO,” she insists while increasing her mocking tone.
“I um,” I begin with a pause. “I don’t want to show you what’s in here.”
“Open it,” she says, bumping me backward with her own body.
“Hey dad!” Frankie says as he emerges from behind the corner and into the kitchen.
“Hey little man,” I say quickly. “Go take your shower and don’t come back out here for a while."
Closing the refrigerator door, he looks at me and hesitates. “Are you two still fighting?” he asks.
“We’re not fighting, we’re just…”
“You’re dad wants me to see his shrink because he thinks I’m crazy,” Lauren interrupts.
“I mean,” Frankie pauses. “I see Dad’s therapist,” he reminds her. “I’m not crazy.”
“Shower Bub,” I remind him.
“On it,” he agrees as he makes his exit.
Turning back to Lauren, much to my chagrin she already has my briefcase opened. “Oh… my… god… YOU HAD TOBLERONE AND DIDN’T EVEN SHARE!?
“What else you got in here?” she asks rhetorically as she peruses my stash of snacks and candies. “What’s this?” she asks while pulling out a blue folder with the SPLAT TV logo on it.
“A contract for Frankie,” I answer her. Naturally, she looks at me with her typical ‘wha?’ look. “They loved him on ‘My Undead Detective,’” I pause as she opens it up.
“He was good, wasn’t he?”
“Very,” I agree. “They want him for a lead role in a feature film called ‘Precious Cargo.’”
“Lead?” she asks, to which I nod. “In a feature?”
“Yeah and I’ve had Robert looking this over for weeks. It’s a great deal.”
“Nepotism never bothers you, does it?” she asks.
“Not even a little bit,” I say with a smile. “Besides, I may have got his foot in the door but he’s the one working his little ass off. He’s the one getting it done. If I can use my power and influence to make his life better, then that's my job as is father to do it.
“Plus his payday ought to be enough to put himself through college.”
“What the hell is this?” she asks as she pulls out a key chain. “Why would you have this? You don’t even like World of Warcraft.”
“Nah,” I agree. “But you do.”
“This is for me?” she asks with the hint of a smile.
“Yeah,” I say while cracking a smile of my own.
“If this is some trick to butter me up in order to get me to agree to…”
“We’re not talking about that tonight,” I interrupt her. “We need to recalibrate.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Well,” I say while taking her hand in mine. Placing my palm gently against her and running my fingertips along the back of her hand, I look into her gorgeous eyes. “We do have the place to ourselves for a little bit. Frankie is showering and lord knows that takes him at least 45 minutes. And Berta… she’s doing whatever the hell Berta does this time of night.”
“Probably using her vibrator,” she jokes. Sorta.
“Eww god, what the fuck?”
“She’s fat and old my sweet, not dead,” she reasons.
Pulling her by the hand back into the family room, I open the balcony doors. The cold air from the Hudson rushes in through the large double opening in the wall.
“Are you nuts?” she asks. “It’s fuckin’ cold!”
“Alexa!” I call out as I pull her out into the frigid air, laying my phone on the balcony railing. “Play ‘Time After Time’ by Cyndi Lauper.”
The song begins and I pull Lauren in front of me with her back against my chest. She pounds her feet against the balcony in an effort to warm herself up.
“Don’t think about it,” I whisper in her ear as I wrap my arms around her shoulders. Holding her tight, we sway to the music. “To have and to hold,” I begin, again with a whisper. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until…”
“Death do us part,” she concludes quietly before I kiss her softly on her cheek. In this moment, the first snow of the season begins to fall over Manhattan.
“I swear to God, if you start singing…”
“If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be wai-ting… Time After Time…”
I can feel the smile on her face with my face pressed against hers.
“Okay, keep going,” she says quietly.
“Thought you didn’t want me to sing,” I reply quickly.
“I lied,” Lauren insists.
“If you’re lost, you can look, and you will find me… Time After Time…” I continue to sing to her as we sway in the cold and the snow. “If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting… Time After Time.”
“Will you?” she asks.
“Mmhmm,” I confirm as she pried herself away from me.
“Catch that,” she says and like a cat, she flicks my cellphone off the balcony before disappearing back into the warmth of the house.
Watching my phone fly through the air, it falls almost thirty stories before it crashes and shatters against the roof below the tower.
“No kitty,” I say in an Eric Cartman impression. “That’s my cellphone.”
“Leander!” Lauren raises her voice as she stands in the double doorway again. “You coming upstairs?”
“Yes dear,” I say to her as she disappears again. “Bad kitty!” I say as I follow her into the house.