August 19th
Off Camera
As the morning sun beats down heavily on his neck, Jack Colter tilted his sunglasses up on his head and slid his arm off of backrest of the park bench to check his watch. It was the day after Bad Moon Rising and he'd been up since dawn, waiting for any sign of life in the building across the street.
There was no celebration the previous night. No good vibes or self-congratulatory pats on the back. After all, no one single victory would resurrect Black Jack Colter's career. To do that, he felt he had to clear his name. And so he sat outside the lawyer's office at 9 A.M... waiting.
At least he presumed it was a lawyer's office. It looked more like a condemned laundromat to him, but this was the place if the address on the flier told it true.
After a half hour of inactivity, Black Jack pulled the flier from his pocket one more time and perused it once more.
'Suppose that could be an 8,' he thought to himself. It appeared the flier had been left untouched in the weather for many weeks and the numbers had bled through the page, so Jack wasn't sure if that was indeed a 6 or an 8. A crease formed over Jack's eyes as he squinted at the paper with a hope and a prayer. He turned to his left to see if the next building was 68 North Street. Alas, it was 72.
Just then a glimmer of light caught his eye as a light blue Neon pulled up to the curb across the street. A stout old woman in faded jeans and a red cat sweater hopped out of the vehicle and waddled toward the door to 66 North St., key ring in hand.
As he feared, this was the wrong spot. 'I guess that's what you get for choosing your lawyer off a telephone pole.'
All the same, Jack's legs lifted him from the bench and he trudged over toward the door.
He pushed the glass door open and looked around for the woman. He immediately noticed the walls in the building were stained by flood damage and pieces of the suspended ceiling track were a cough away from collapsing to the floor.
Jack walked around the corner and looked over to the woman at the desk, who seems genuinely surprised to have business at this time of day.
"Excuse me. I have this flier. I was wondering if--"
Before Jack could finish his sentence, the woman rolled her eyes and pointed to the back room. Jack looked at the door peculiarly.
"Back there?"
The woman nodded and Colter shook his head before approaching what looked to be a water closet. Upon further inspection, the door had "Attorney" posted on the door on a simple white piece of paper. 'Comforting,' Jack thought to himself.
Jack opened the door cautiously to find a tiny 10 x 10 room. Forced to squeeze past a filing cabinet, Jack maneuvered himself around the door to see man staring blankly at him behind a desk. The man's eyes darted from the breakfast sandwich lying on his desk up to the doorway where Jack stood, and then back to the sandwich. He quickly crumpled the sandwich back into its foil and shoved it into the top drawer of his desk before standing awkwardly and re-tucking his shirt into his pants. Jack could only stare at the spectacle. The man's mustard yellow blazer matched the mustard stain on his tie more than his slacks. And assuming that was a breakfast sandwich he just shoved into his desk, that mustard stain was an old one.
"Is this 66th North Street?" Jack asked to break the silence, even though he knew the answer.
"Yes, sir, it is, sir."
The man awkwardly tucked the tail of his button-down shirt into his slacks and then motioned toward the chair sitting across the desk from him. Jack, however, did not budge, muttering some choice four-letter words under his breath. This guy looked to be the type of lawyer who'd gotten his law degree online.
'And there it is.' Jack looked to see a printed certificate hanging on the wall. The printer must have been out of ink and toner that day as he could hardly make out the university's name.
The receptionist chuckled awkwardly with an arm still extended toward the chair opposite him and then quickly grabs a crumpled-up napkin to wipe his face.
"This is it, sir. Leslie Callen, Attorney at Law. You may call me Les, however."
With the grace of a newborn fawn, Leslie withdrew a business card from his pocket and ever so tactfully placed it into Jack's hand as he shook it.
"That's my cell number. Call day or night if you have any problems."
'I'm already in the building, you absolute pillock,' Jack thought to say before thinking better of it.
Something about the desperation in his little beady eyes made Jack's skin crawl.
But he moved the trash on the chair and sat down any way.
'Maybe I'm the desperate man here,' popped into Jack's mind.
"You must be Mr. Colter."
Jack offers a curt nod, having not recognized the man's voice earlier.
"I took the liberty to look up your case earlier. I hope you don't mind. D.U.I., huh? Don't worry, we've all been there. A few times."
The man's jovial laugh made Jack want to off himself right then and there.
"I understand that some gentleman named Sybyl turned up some evidence that points to fraud in the police report, and that's all well and good, but as your legal council, I should inform you that there's little to be gained from fighting the charge. You've already served your time."
"I don't care about any of that. I just want to prove my innocence. To everyone. To the world."'To myself.'
"And I totally understand that, Mr. Colter. I do, but even if you were pressured by the police in your earlier statements, it's not like you can recant them now."
Leslie smirked and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
"...right?"
Les desperately sifted through a packet of pages.
"What you should be doing is filing a defamation suit."
Les licked his thumb and flips another page.
"Against the family."
Jack re-positioned himself in his seat, bewildered.
"You're serious."
"Oh, very much so, sir. You could be looking at thousands."
Jack's face contorted in ways he didn't think possible, with a variety of emotions running through his head all at once.
"You want me to sue the widow of my best friend for a couple dollars."
"Thousands."
The lawyer spread his arms and whispered the word with the same reverence as a preacher might talk about Jesus Christ. Then he began to rifle through the papers on his desk once more before Jack calmly leaned over and placed his palm over the documents. Les slowly tracked Jack's arm up too look into his eyes.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding. I just want to clear my record. That's all."
With teeth baring, Jack leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Les nearly swallowed his tongue as he stumbled for the right words.
"I'm just trying to do right by my client."
"Haven't hired you yet, and by the looks of it, not many have."
With an indignant look on his face, Les rolled his chair backward only to slam into the wall in the cramped quarters.
"I'll have you know I have many clientele!"
Jack shook his head and stood from the chair, knowing nothing good could possibly come from this meeting.
"Where are you going? You're walking out on thousands, Mr. Colter."
"And you are missing the entire fucking point."
Jack slammed the door shut on his way out, leaving lonely Les all alone in his tiny little room to sob in the fetal position in private.
August 31st
On Camera
"Hunter Storms versus Black Jack Colter. Another Brutal Force Wrestling classic, they'd have you believe."
Jack rubs his palms together and looks toward the ceiling as if to collect his thoughts. After a brief pause, he tilts his head over to the camera.
"But let's set the record straight. Hunter Storms and I are not cut from the same cloth. See, I busted my ass from day one in that company and helped build it from the ground up. And you, Hunter? You showed up for a cup of coffee and liken yourself to the rest of the BFW alumni because, what, you signed your contract with the same pen? You never had BFW in your blood, kid. I heard you couldn't get out of town fast enough when word came down that BFW would be closing its doors for good.
Let's go back to June 22nd, shall we? The day it all went down. BFW had closed just as I was hitting my stride. I really thought I was on the verge of a career renaissance and then-"
Colter snaps his fingers together.
"-it's all over in an instant. Me being the company man I am, I'm not even thinking about making my next move at this point because, first of all, I am physically and emotionally drained from my match with Amis Shelton at BFW Redemption. Secondly, I'm waiting for verification from the top. I don't want to breach my contract on a false alarm. I want to know there's no chance of BFW's return before I move on and I want it in writing. So I've got my phone glued to my hip all day, waiting for any additional intel on what happened. And I'm lying on that sketchy looking motel mattress, because again, I've been working for peanuts in this upstart fed. And I'm scrolling through my phone when, lo and behold, I see one Hunter Storms announced as the newest signee to Pure Amusement Wrestling."
After a boisterous chuckle, Jack continues his anecdote.
"You sure move quick, boy. I wish I had your gusto. That's some real business savvy there. Don't get me wrong, I think it was a smart move, really. I mean, good on ya, kid. Capitalize on that brand recognition. Strike while the iron's hot. We've all been through contract negotiations. They usually take some time to hammer out. But the ink was dry on yours a few hours after your BFW contract was officially terminated. You really couldn't wait to get out of there, huh?"
Jack smiles a toothy grin, not shy to admit his amusement over the whole thing.
"I can imagine your dismay when the news slowly begins to roll in and you are soon surrounded by the same cast of characters you were running from all along. In your debut match, no less. And now at the very first PAW Addiction. My heart breaks for you, squirt. You're a talented young cat trying to make your name in the business, but I'm sorry, kiddo, you won't be making your name at my expense. Not at Addiction #1. Not ever."
Jack flips the sobriety coin into the air with his thumb, admiring it spinning through the air before snatching it with one hand.
"'Addiction'. Oh, that hits close to home. See, Hunter, while Addiction may be a brand name to you or a friendly new place to hang your hat on, it represents something completely different to me. It's not a word that comforts me. It doesn't elicit any sort of complacency from me. It's a word that raises the hairs on the arms. It's a fight I've been in my entire life. A reminder if my greatest failures. A bit heavy-handed, but a reminder all the same, and one that's very hard to ignore. You poke a man with the biggest failure in his life and well, I believe that'll put anyone on edge."
Jack rattles the coin around in his cupped hand, something that's become a nervous tic for him of late.
"Let me tell you, Storms, you don't want to find me on edge coming into this fight. A lot of people have been asking me what happened to the Black Jack Colter of old. 'Where has that fire gone?' I have a word of advice for those curious souls: Don't knock on doors you don't want answered. You need only look to your former BFW 'colleague' Roscar the Greek God to understand, Hunter. You don't want to be the one to light that fire.
If you are dense enough to believe, like Roscar, that I'm a man who has relied on luck to make it this far... well, good luck with that. Any gambler worth his salt knows how to make his own luck. That's what I did at Bad Moon Rising and that's what I'll do at Addiction #1. Once you set aside all the bullshit that can happen in 5-man matches and tag team contests with crooked partners, and you boil it down to a 1-on-1 contest, well... those are odds that I'm going to make my own.
I used to be a tag team specialist much like you, Hunter, until I realized there's too many variables in that game. There's not many people in this business that you can place your full trust in. The only man I ever developed that trust in is buried in the ground now. And the others... well, Roscar proved that theory right for me. But he met his reckoning eventually. Alas, that win gave me little satisfaction. I'm a very difficult man to please. One win will never be enough. Sorry about your damn luck."
