31. Heartache – Sihn
CHAPTER 31
HEARTACHE
SIHN
Colonel and Nikki were not lost. His phone was dead and hers burned up in the fire. I’m meeting the boys from POW! at Valley Sportsman Club—an unofficial meeting about where we go from here wrestling-wise. I invited Ruin, but he said he was busy creating content and couldn’t make it out tonight.
I arrived before everyone else to ensure there was enough room for us all. I don’t know why I thought maybe this place would be busy on Saturday night, but it’s dead per usual.
Ricky sets down a beer in front of my favorite stool. It’s my favorite spot to sit because it gives me full visual access to the comings and goings of the patrons.
I drink the beer in three gulps and head to relieve myself in the restroom. It’s a one-stall unisex one. There aren’t many women who venture into a place like this, and this room is one of the many reasons why. There’s a sink without hand soap, a toilet without paper, and a urinal that doesn’t flush. The floor is splattered with dried urine. There isn’t a mirror. There was one, at some point. There’s an oval-shaped spot above the sink where the paint doesn't match. I’d say a man punched his reflection in a fit of rage and a new mirror wasn’t in the bar’s budget. It smells like body odor and shit. Not a place for a lady.
I check my phone before exiting, but nothing from Mar. I’m beginning to think she really does want things to end. This going no-contact shit is for the birds. She’s all I can think about, and I should be more worried about what I’m going to do for money. I wish she understood that my frustration had nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t see it.
Willy Lee and Willy Ray are by the pool table when I round the corner into the bar area. They are dressed in identical black tanks and camouflage cargo shorts.
Twink walks in the front door as I head for the pool table. He struts toward the restroom. I go to warn him, but he’ll find out the bad shape it’s in soon enough.
I say, “How you guys holding up?”
Lee tosses his pool stick from hand to hand as he says, “We’re looking for other potential venues.”
Ray chimes in, “Tell him the truth. We’re also thinking of relocating to Bigger Better Wrestling.”
My eyebrows raise at the mention of Bigger Better Wrestling. It’s been the butt of most jokes at POW!. “Really?”
“We gotta go somewhere. Wrestling is our life,” Ray says before racking the balls on the table. I lean against the nearest high-top table. Ricky brings me beer number two and asks the boys, “What’ll you guys be having?”
Lee asks, “Got any of that queer beer?”
Twink enters the room and shouts, “I know you ain’t talking about me and my people because I will fuck both of you up without any help from Sihn.”
Lee holds his pool stick up. “Look, I like the taste of the queer beer.”
Twink crosses his arms over his sequined top and says, “Then call it by its name, and we won’t have an issue… Good lord, I’ll be glad to be rid of the two of you queerphobic’s.” He looks at me and asks, “Can we talk somewhere away from these dimwits for a minute?”
I nod and finish beer two before following Twink to the only booth in the small bar. The cushions sink from years of wear and my ass hits what feels like a staple. I shift to find some comfort. The bar stools are more comfortable than this booth.
Ricky sets beer number three in front of me and asks Twink what he wants. Twink requests water, and Ricky disappears.
“Not here for the party, I presume?”
Twink huffs, “No. I told you before, I’m giving up wrestling and pursuing my dream job. I just wanted to check and make sure you were doing alright and tell you that you were right and I was wrong.”
“About what?” I toss back half of my beer.
“Colonel not having anything to do with the fire, but I do think Nikki is still somehow connected.”
“Why?”
“Her phone being burned up at POW!. She is never without her phone. You know she isn’t even a good receptionist. Whenever anyone walked in off the street and had questions, she’d be on her phone ignoring them.”
He isn’t wrong, but I don’t think she’s smart enough to pull something like that off.
Ricky gives Twink his ice water and me beer number four.
“Do you have a ride home?” Twink asks as Ricky walks away.
I finish three in one gulp before replying, “Myself,” and then give a big smile before starting beer four.
“Are you okay? Is this just about POW! or something else?”
“It’s like everything is crashing down around me all at once, Twink. I am so weak.”
“You are not weak; you are human. It’s normal to have feelings and not always have your shit together.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had it together.”
“No one ever really does. It’s just a saying to make you feel better.”
“The only person who can make me feel better doesn't want to see me right now, and I don’t blame her.”
“Her?! That girl that you had backstage that one time?”
“Yeah.”
“You never talk much about your love life. I had wondered if you were a closet gay, but then I saw the way you looked at her and I knew you were swinging for the other team. A shame, really. I always wondered what it would be like to have The Sihnner bend me up like a pretzel.”
“Twink! You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“I am, but just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to your attractiveness.”
“So what’s going on with this girl that’s got you so smitten?”
“She is worth all the heartache I’m gonna go through.”
“Man, you’re really hung up on her.”
I don’t reply. I nurse my beer and think about where the fuck I went wrong in life. Is it abandonment issues related to the father I never knew? Is it me chasing after a dream to prove something to my dead mother? Is it knowing I’ll fail so there is no use in trying?
I don’t really want to be a showrunner like Colonel. I know the other wrestlers would come together with me and we could create an all-new POW!, but I want to be the show.
By the time Ricky puts number five in front of me, four has been long gone.
Twink stands as I chug my beer. “The problem is I have no aspirations, no purpose in life.”
“No one can help you with that. That’s an internal thing you’ll have to figure out on your own and I hope you do soon. Don’t let that girl get away just because you’re having a come-to-Jesus moment.”
“Are you religious, Twink?”
“I think if there is a God out there, he understands why I feel the way I do about his followers and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.”
After Twink leaves, I watch Lee and Ray play two rounds of pool during beer six before making my way to piss and then eventually ending up back on my stool.
During beer seven, the new kid who has only been training at POW! for a week walks in. He has a black mohawk, black eye makeup, a black choker, and all-black attire to match his black tattoos. He wants to go by The Stalker, but I don’t think the name fits the mohawk.
He takes the stool next to me, and I straight up tell him without any pleasantries, “If you want to keep The Stalker as your stage name, drop the mohawk. I suggest shaving your head completely. Wear a black hoodie and pants that look like jeans, but have some give.”
“You’re probably right, but now that there is no place in town that offers it, I’m not really in the shape to travel to another place…ya know?”
“Oh, I know. If you want it bad enough, you’ll go where you need to go.” As soon as I say it, I think it’s great advice that I should take from myself. I should sober up, go get the girl, get my shit together, but instead, I signal for beer eight.
As the night drags on, we play a game of teams. The Willy’s against Stalker and Sihn. Stalker is whipping both their asses. I am no help to him. I suck at pool.
I find myself leaning into the pool table a little too hard, and it takes all three of them to get me on my stool. I sulk and tell them I can hold my own, but they don’t seem to listen.
“’Nother one, Rickyyyy.”
“You’re finished, Sihn.”
Ricky doesn’t know how correct his statement is.
The door swings open and it’s hard to make out who walks in through the dim light and smoke-filled space. Also, the room seems to be spinning. A familiar figure struts towards me.
My words slur as I say, “Howwww, you’d get here?” I try to focus on Ruin by blinking my eyes a lot, but he seems to be moving around the room.
He attempts to help me off the stool by slinging one of my arms over his shoulder, but he’s much shorter than I am. Even in my current state, it’s comical. He says, “Come on buddy, let me get you home.”
My body sways slightly while I tell him, “I’m fine. I didn’t even have that much.” I grasp the counter for support. Maybe eight was one too many. I’m usually good for about seven, but after that shit gets crazy. When I’m driving, I never go above five, not that I should even drive at five, but at two hundred and forty pounds, it takes quite a bit to get me drunk.
“You seem like you could use a ride.”
I go to ask him how he knew I needed a ride, but he’s my best friend so he likely knew I was going through some shit. Cool dude.
“Alright, take me home, but I’m not letting you in my pants, so don’t try,” I kid.
He laughs as he leads my drunk ass toward the exit.