Post by jc on Dec 17, 2011 22:30:51 GMT -4
With a face as rugged and worn as an old pair of work boots, Dwayne Bishop sat alone in the back corner of the coffee shop with his calloused hands gripped tightly around the warm cup of Colombia's finest. The morning, as it had been for the majority of the last few days this week, had been unpleasantly frigid for those accustomed to wearing shorts and tee shirts during a normal San Antonio winter, and with nothing else to do with his day Bishop figured he would stop in and grab a nice hot cup of Joe to jump start his morning.
This is what had become of his days since signing the lease of the gym over to his daughter, Michelle. He still was not sure what she intended to do with the thing, or why she even wanted it in the first place, but it bothered him to walk past it every day and notice that the doors had not been opened and no one was working out or getting the training they deserved or paid to be.
It was his own fault, he knew. He should have told her no, called her on her threat and placed the ball in her court. It would have been the right thing to do for his students, because deep down in his gut he knew that he was walking out on them just as he did his own family so many years ago. This was different though. Michelle was his own flesh and bone, and he considered his wife Rebecca to be the rib pulled from his own chest, and yet he did what he had vowed not to do – he had left when they needed him the most.
Now here he was; alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.
He closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the Lord that he would guide him through this moment of struggle and protect him from the demons that dance around his bed at night while he sleeps and fill his dreams with thoughts of failure and unworthiness.
“You don't really think that's going to help, do you?”
Dwayne tried to shake the demons loose, remove them from his mind as he placed his complete trust in God that He would lead him through the darkness.
“That coffee isn't going to help either,” the voice called to him once more, though this time seemed different from all the others...more familiar. “Maybe you just need to get laid.”
Dwayne opened his eyes and found a man seated across from him that he had not seen in a few years.
“Bobby?” Dwayne said with a bit of hesitation, his face contorting slightly as his lips curl into a slight frown and his eyes narrow as he remembers why it is he has not seen one the man in so long.
“Easy there, big fella,” Bobby lifts his hands to calm the beast slowly rearing it's ugly face in the man he is seated across from. “I've put all that stuff in the past and I'm here as a friend.”
“A friend,” Dwayne's nostrils flare slightly as he attempts to control his breathing, which had become a bit heavier in the last few moments. “What makes you think I would ever consider you a friend, you son of a bitch?”
“I know we've been through a lot, and I wouldn't blame you if you decide that you never want to talk to me ever again, but at least hear me out.”
“What's the matter?” Dwayne asked as the knuckles on his hands slowly became white as the blood rushed away from his now balled up fists. “No more blood on the knife you used to stab me in the back, so you came back for more.”
“We can't go back and change what happened, Dwayne.” Robert Ingland had yet to relax since taking the seat, but he tried his best to not look confrontational while being ready for Dwayne to attack him at any time. “As much as I would like to change the way things turned out, I am not sorry for what happened.”
“So you wish I would have just shook your hand and said 'No problem, pal' after I found out you were fucking my wife?”
The comment, as well as the sudden loudness of Dwayne's voice, caught the attention of more than just the people seated around their table. A few people actually stood up from their seats and moved to tables positioned outside of the establishment. Bobby just offered a painted on smile before turning his attention back to Bishop.
“Maybe showing up unannounced wasn't the best idea,” Bobby shifted in his seat uneasily.
“Showing up at all was a bad idea.” Dwayne did everything he could to keep from tossing the table aside and wrapping his hands around the neck of a man he used to consider a friend.
“I'm not the only one guilty in all of this, Dee.” Bobby leaned forward a bit, though not too close. “You were the one who up and walked out on his family, not me.”
“No, you're the one who was supposed to keep my family safe until I came back,” Dwayne's eyes shut tightly as he shook his head and tried to keep the tears from breaking free and rushing down his cheeks in a torrential downpour. “Not take my place.”
“I never intended to take your place, Dee.” Bobby looked down and shook his head. “It just happened.”
“You need to leave,” Dwayne opened his eyes, bloodshot and glistening from the moisture of his tears. “Leave, and never show your face around me again.”
“Fine,” Bobby stood slowly, reaching into his shirt pocket as he does. “But like I said, we need to talk. When you're done being angry and you're ready to talk like a man, give me a call so we can get together.”
Dwayne looks down at the card Bobby tossed on the table in front of him.
“Somewhere public, with a lot of people.” Bobby chuckled at his poor attempt of a joke. “It will help you understand what is going on with Michelle. She didn't wake up one day and decide to take your gym. There's a hell of a lot you don't know about her...or Rodell.”
“Will you hold still.”
Michelle Bishop is standing up next to Zachary Rodell. He is still in his ring gear, and there appears to be various stains on it. One of them looks like a mustard stain due to its pale yellow tint, and one can only hope the brown one is possibly chili...maybe chocolate.
“I know it is supposed to help, but the bag is cold.”
“Because there is ice in it, dumbass,” Michelle replies with a hint of attitude as she attempts to press the ice bag against a slight bump on Zach's head. “Now quit acting like a baby and let me put this on your head.”
“I already told you it doesn't hurt.” Zach flinches slightly as the cold sweat on the outside of the bag makes contact with the skin on his forehead.
“I don't know why you just didn't come back to the locker room.” Michelle glanced over her shoulder toward Domingo Cruz, who is running his finger along the touch screen of his phone instead of looking in her direction. “Didn't you tell him Julius would be looking to hurt him before their match?”
“Yup.” Domingo replied without turning his attention from whatever he is looking at on his phone.
“He told me...you told me,” Zach said just as a drop of water trickled down his brow and made a home in the corner of his eye. “Just because you guys say something doesn't mean it is going to happen.”
“But it did.”
“Yeah, it did,” Zach replied. “But I'm getting sick and tired of the two of you telling me you know what is best for me. I have a mind of my own, and if I want to go tell Mr. Dangerous that he did a good job out there; then I'm going to do just that.”
“I never said you couldn't, Zachary.” Michelle removed the bag of ice from Rodell's head and used her other hand to lift his head by his chin so he could look up at her. “I just think it would have been smart to say something. Domingo could have gone with you.”
“So now I need a babysitter, too.”
“I'm not a babysitter, punk.” Domingo tilted his phone to the side as the familiar intro tune of Angry Birds is heard coming from his direction.
“And I don't need one.” Zach turned to his left in order to remove his chin from Michelle's grasp. “Look, I know you have money tied up in me becoming successful here in APW, but until you start hopping inside that ring and taking the bumps and bruises that go along with the job – let me do it my way, okay.”
“I have no problem with you doing things your way, Zachary.” Michelle hands him the ice pack and begins to walk in Domingo's direction. “What I have a problem with, is you being placed in unnecessary risk. You are an investment, and much like the investors on Wall Street, I intend for that investment to not only succeed, but to flourish and gain interest that I can cash in on.”
“So that's it then?” Zach stares in Michelle's direction, her back still to him as she runs her hand along the freshly shaven scalp of Cruz.
“You were hoping there was more to it?” She nods her head as Cruz tilts his head in order to look up at her before returning her nod and standing up. “Maybe you were hoping that I would see that you were such a nice guy and fall madly in love with you like women do in the movies.”
Cruz closes the door behind him, as Michelle turns to face Rodell with that mischievous little grin she has used to toy with him on more than one occasion.
“It's not that at all,” Zach replies as he stood up and made his way toward her. “The faster this little game you're playing is over with, the sooner I can go back to being myself. Not everyone enjoys being a pawn, and I am one of those people.”
“Now that is the type of intensity I want you to have when you step into the ring with Julius,” her grin fades slightly, as Rodell stands mere inches away from her. “It's that fire...that passion...that is going to drive you to victory at Christmas Chaos. He may be the hometown hero, come back to represent his country and make them proud.”
She glances down at his feet, slowly allowing her eyes to travel over every sweat kissed portion of his body before they come back to focus on his. “But you have become what every man in that crowd wishes he could be, what every child dreams he could one day become, and what every woman fantasizes about waking up next to. You are the hero in this sordid little tale, and unlike the movies and storybooks like to claim – the hero does not always stand tall at the end. But with me at your side, and Cruz protecting your rear...”
She slinks past him, her breasts brushing against his arm as she lowers her voice to just above a whisper. “You will always be the one that ends up on top.”
He turns to look over his shoulder, his eyes focused on more than just her walking away from him. It's actually the way her body sways as she walks that catches his attention. It's when she turns back toward him and notices that his attention is on her that the mischievous grin returns. “Looks like you're going to need to take a cold shower when you go wash off the stench of garbage you have seeping out of your pores.”
This is what had become of his days since signing the lease of the gym over to his daughter, Michelle. He still was not sure what she intended to do with the thing, or why she even wanted it in the first place, but it bothered him to walk past it every day and notice that the doors had not been opened and no one was working out or getting the training they deserved or paid to be.
It was his own fault, he knew. He should have told her no, called her on her threat and placed the ball in her court. It would have been the right thing to do for his students, because deep down in his gut he knew that he was walking out on them just as he did his own family so many years ago. This was different though. Michelle was his own flesh and bone, and he considered his wife Rebecca to be the rib pulled from his own chest, and yet he did what he had vowed not to do – he had left when they needed him the most.
Now here he was; alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.
He closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the Lord that he would guide him through this moment of struggle and protect him from the demons that dance around his bed at night while he sleeps and fill his dreams with thoughts of failure and unworthiness.
“You don't really think that's going to help, do you?”
Dwayne tried to shake the demons loose, remove them from his mind as he placed his complete trust in God that He would lead him through the darkness.
“That coffee isn't going to help either,” the voice called to him once more, though this time seemed different from all the others...more familiar. “Maybe you just need to get laid.”
Dwayne opened his eyes and found a man seated across from him that he had not seen in a few years.
“Bobby?” Dwayne said with a bit of hesitation, his face contorting slightly as his lips curl into a slight frown and his eyes narrow as he remembers why it is he has not seen one the man in so long.
“Easy there, big fella,” Bobby lifts his hands to calm the beast slowly rearing it's ugly face in the man he is seated across from. “I've put all that stuff in the past and I'm here as a friend.”
“A friend,” Dwayne's nostrils flare slightly as he attempts to control his breathing, which had become a bit heavier in the last few moments. “What makes you think I would ever consider you a friend, you son of a bitch?”
“I know we've been through a lot, and I wouldn't blame you if you decide that you never want to talk to me ever again, but at least hear me out.”
“What's the matter?” Dwayne asked as the knuckles on his hands slowly became white as the blood rushed away from his now balled up fists. “No more blood on the knife you used to stab me in the back, so you came back for more.”
“We can't go back and change what happened, Dwayne.” Robert Ingland had yet to relax since taking the seat, but he tried his best to not look confrontational while being ready for Dwayne to attack him at any time. “As much as I would like to change the way things turned out, I am not sorry for what happened.”
“So you wish I would have just shook your hand and said 'No problem, pal' after I found out you were fucking my wife?”
The comment, as well as the sudden loudness of Dwayne's voice, caught the attention of more than just the people seated around their table. A few people actually stood up from their seats and moved to tables positioned outside of the establishment. Bobby just offered a painted on smile before turning his attention back to Bishop.
“Maybe showing up unannounced wasn't the best idea,” Bobby shifted in his seat uneasily.
“Showing up at all was a bad idea.” Dwayne did everything he could to keep from tossing the table aside and wrapping his hands around the neck of a man he used to consider a friend.
“I'm not the only one guilty in all of this, Dee.” Bobby leaned forward a bit, though not too close. “You were the one who up and walked out on his family, not me.”
“No, you're the one who was supposed to keep my family safe until I came back,” Dwayne's eyes shut tightly as he shook his head and tried to keep the tears from breaking free and rushing down his cheeks in a torrential downpour. “Not take my place.”
“I never intended to take your place, Dee.” Bobby looked down and shook his head. “It just happened.”
“You need to leave,” Dwayne opened his eyes, bloodshot and glistening from the moisture of his tears. “Leave, and never show your face around me again.”
“Fine,” Bobby stood slowly, reaching into his shirt pocket as he does. “But like I said, we need to talk. When you're done being angry and you're ready to talk like a man, give me a call so we can get together.”
Dwayne looks down at the card Bobby tossed on the table in front of him.
“Somewhere public, with a lot of people.” Bobby chuckled at his poor attempt of a joke. “It will help you understand what is going on with Michelle. She didn't wake up one day and decide to take your gym. There's a hell of a lot you don't know about her...or Rodell.”
* * * * * * * *
“Will you hold still.”
Michelle Bishop is standing up next to Zachary Rodell. He is still in his ring gear, and there appears to be various stains on it. One of them looks like a mustard stain due to its pale yellow tint, and one can only hope the brown one is possibly chili...maybe chocolate.
“I know it is supposed to help, but the bag is cold.”
“Because there is ice in it, dumbass,” Michelle replies with a hint of attitude as she attempts to press the ice bag against a slight bump on Zach's head. “Now quit acting like a baby and let me put this on your head.”
“I already told you it doesn't hurt.” Zach flinches slightly as the cold sweat on the outside of the bag makes contact with the skin on his forehead.
“I don't know why you just didn't come back to the locker room.” Michelle glanced over her shoulder toward Domingo Cruz, who is running his finger along the touch screen of his phone instead of looking in her direction. “Didn't you tell him Julius would be looking to hurt him before their match?”
“Yup.” Domingo replied without turning his attention from whatever he is looking at on his phone.
“He told me...you told me,” Zach said just as a drop of water trickled down his brow and made a home in the corner of his eye. “Just because you guys say something doesn't mean it is going to happen.”
“But it did.”
“Yeah, it did,” Zach replied. “But I'm getting sick and tired of the two of you telling me you know what is best for me. I have a mind of my own, and if I want to go tell Mr. Dangerous that he did a good job out there; then I'm going to do just that.”
“I never said you couldn't, Zachary.” Michelle removed the bag of ice from Rodell's head and used her other hand to lift his head by his chin so he could look up at her. “I just think it would have been smart to say something. Domingo could have gone with you.”
“So now I need a babysitter, too.”
“I'm not a babysitter, punk.” Domingo tilted his phone to the side as the familiar intro tune of Angry Birds is heard coming from his direction.
“And I don't need one.” Zach turned to his left in order to remove his chin from Michelle's grasp. “Look, I know you have money tied up in me becoming successful here in APW, but until you start hopping inside that ring and taking the bumps and bruises that go along with the job – let me do it my way, okay.”
“I have no problem with you doing things your way, Zachary.” Michelle hands him the ice pack and begins to walk in Domingo's direction. “What I have a problem with, is you being placed in unnecessary risk. You are an investment, and much like the investors on Wall Street, I intend for that investment to not only succeed, but to flourish and gain interest that I can cash in on.”
“So that's it then?” Zach stares in Michelle's direction, her back still to him as she runs her hand along the freshly shaven scalp of Cruz.
“You were hoping there was more to it?” She nods her head as Cruz tilts his head in order to look up at her before returning her nod and standing up. “Maybe you were hoping that I would see that you were such a nice guy and fall madly in love with you like women do in the movies.”
Cruz closes the door behind him, as Michelle turns to face Rodell with that mischievous little grin she has used to toy with him on more than one occasion.
“It's not that at all,” Zach replies as he stood up and made his way toward her. “The faster this little game you're playing is over with, the sooner I can go back to being myself. Not everyone enjoys being a pawn, and I am one of those people.”
“Now that is the type of intensity I want you to have when you step into the ring with Julius,” her grin fades slightly, as Rodell stands mere inches away from her. “It's that fire...that passion...that is going to drive you to victory at Christmas Chaos. He may be the hometown hero, come back to represent his country and make them proud.”
She glances down at his feet, slowly allowing her eyes to travel over every sweat kissed portion of his body before they come back to focus on his. “But you have become what every man in that crowd wishes he could be, what every child dreams he could one day become, and what every woman fantasizes about waking up next to. You are the hero in this sordid little tale, and unlike the movies and storybooks like to claim – the hero does not always stand tall at the end. But with me at your side, and Cruz protecting your rear...”
She slinks past him, her breasts brushing against his arm as she lowers her voice to just above a whisper. “You will always be the one that ends up on top.”
He turns to look over his shoulder, his eyes focused on more than just her walking away from him. It's actually the way her body sways as she walks that catches his attention. It's when she turns back toward him and notices that his attention is on her that the mischievous grin returns. “Looks like you're going to need to take a cold shower when you go wash off the stench of garbage you have seeping out of your pores.”
