Season 20, Episode 1 The Viper Room #2
“Worst-case scenario, you go home with a little money for your trouble.” She picked at her fingernails, and I noticed the skin there was almost raw, the lone crack in her otherwise unflappable veneer.
“I want you to know I was furious your daughter’s frame got destroyed.
That was unacceptable. I said as much after you left. ”
“Thanks,” I replied. “That means a lot.”
“Look, you and I won’t be talking politics anytime soon, but I hope you win tonight. You’re at least competing for something bigger than yourself. None of the other men here can say that,” she said bitterly. “They’re pretty much all egomaniac narcissists.”
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of those lately either.”
“Wow, guys! That scene was gold!” Troy suddenly materialized in the hallway, camera team in tow. “Could you repeat your last line, Jiamin, just for sound?”
She glared at Troy and lifted a middle finger in front of her face. I understood instantly: she was rendering the footage between us unusable. No one wants to see a blurred-out face, and despite the moment we’d shared, Jiamin still wasn’t itching to log camera time with me.
“Jiamin,” Troy groaned. “You’re too mature for that.”
“Good luck tonight,” she whispered before striding out, another middle finger raised solely for Troy’s benefit.
An hour later, I entered the Arena, trying to get my head in the game.
A giant man-made tree with a handful of sturdy limbs was erected in the center, surrounded by a floor of stunt mats.
The lowest branch was ten feet off the ground, and on the highest hung a golden apple, prolonging the motif from the snake Tribulation.
This “Beast of Eden” Trial was clearly a variation on an Endeavor classic: beat the shit out of somebody to retrieve a shiny toy.
I watched as both teams mounted the rusty stairs to the observation deck. Barnes always said the Trials were when everyone showed their cards, the cast’s applause indicating who they really wanted to go home. I certainly wasn’t expecting a cheering section.
“Okay, no punching, no choking. Anything else is fair game until you pass the first branch and start climbing for the apple,” Zara said, but my nerves were drowning her out.
You almost played professional football, I reminded myself.
Even in my mid-thirties, I had to be better equipped for this than an emotionally erratic influencer.
Still, Bal had a sculpted build. If he got a foothold on the tree before I did, he’d take off like lightning…
I could only exploit my weight advantage on the ground, and it had been eons since I’d put hands on someone.
I remember Mitch made me tackle him one day when I was fourteen.
He said I never unleashed my full force on the field.
So he had me attack him in our backyard.
No pads, no helmet. I was terrified I’d hurt him.
He was in great shape, but I was already taller and weighed a good twenty pounds more.
After every hit, he’d rise, insisting he hadn’t felt it, baiting me until I slammed him so hard we both went sailing into a bed of October leaves.
“Okay, you just hit the man who loves you most with all you’ve got.
No reason you can’t do that to a stranger,” he said.
“If you break someone, it’s their fault for getting in your way… ”
“Cameras rolling! Standby, horn!” Zara called, snapping me back.
I anxiously regarded the chintzy apple above me one last time, fully aware there was a very real chance I was about to totally shit the bed.
But as I took one last deep breath, it struck me that even though I was here for my kids, at least I wasn’t here to shield someone else.
Every Trial I’d competed in previously had been to protect Barnes or Arjun, and the various iterations of absorbing someone else’s hit—in politics, in football, in a stupid reality show—ultimately aren’t that different.
Or rewarding. At least every bruise I’d earn tonight was mine alone.
The bustling set faded to silence, and at last came the horn. Time to work.
Balthazar and I leapt onto the mats and sprinted at each other, neither of us even bothering for the branch. It had been years since a grown man sailed into my chest; I was unprepared for the reminder. Balthazar tucked his shoulder into my stomach, and I promptly flew off the mat, ass over head.
I slammed into the dirt, the strap of the helmet chafing my jaw as I bit the side of my mouth.
Wisps of torn flesh fluttered against my tongue, and I tasted the chalky iron of blood.
Voices rang hollow, the Angels encouraging Bal.
He vaulted up to grab the first branch but couldn’t lift himself, legs dangling like ham at a butcher’s.
If he mounted that branch, I’d never catch him.
I hoisted myself back on the mat. Time to try again. Time to make the kids proud. Time to remind everyone—myself included—what I had in me…
I launched myself at his swinging thigh to rip him down. After he fell, I leapt for the branch, knowing I couldn’t make his mistake and leave my legs exposed.
I rapidly pitched myself up, landing roughly. The branch slammed into my hip as a winded Bal clawed for my feet, but now I was the one already out of reach.
The peanut gallery was silent as I climbed the next branches, all easy now. I was twenty feet off the ground, but somehow I wasn’t afraid. I could see the apple, gleaming and tacky, hanging four feet away from the trunk of the tree.
Underscored by awestruck gasps, I sailed from the branch to grab the apple before I dropped into the embrace of the safety mat below, sending shock waves across its dusty tarp.
“Damn right, Luke!” Melange cheered, igniting the Devils’ feeble applause.
Bal quickly overpowered them, screaming at the fleet of cameras.
“Screw all of you! I will get every LGBTQIA+ organization in America to boycott Endeavor, because you are sending a message to queer children that they are unwanted and unvalued by mainstream media!” He whipped to me next, shoving my chest. “And get that smug look off your face, you fucking fool! What do you think you just proved?”
And then I said it. Because I wanted to. Because I meant it. “That I can win.”
It was inarguable. As inarguable as the hot saliva blasting across my face when Bal spat on me.
Zara swiftly had the two security guards escort him off.
I imagine one had been dispatched to restrain me too, but I wouldn’t lose control.
The only way I’d leave was if I got beat.
And with the stadium lights illuminating my every move and the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I finally remembered how electric victory felt.