This Book Sucks Blood

Chapter 2: Stakes (And Not the Kind You Throw on the Grill)

Song Choice: Welcome to the Mosh Pit—Lapix

Seth's masked face hit the wrestling arena floor, and a crowd of three thousand screamed in delight. In the distance, waves crashed on the white sand beach and palm trees clapped their fonds in the wind. Sweat clung to his mask as Seth thrashed uselessly and the grain of the arena burned welts into his back. Big Blue roared over him, sunlight glimmering off his sweat-coated chest. It was nearly blinding.

"The emperor wants this man as his king?" The giant wrestler belted a laugh. "I'll show him what a true loser this guy is!"

Seth gave a wince, long and performative, behind his metallic mask. He knew that his manager was holding the giant camera given to him by the emperor's police yesterday. He had to punch this performance. If he did it right, the next time he performed he wouldn't just be Seth anymore. 

"No, that's not true! I...deserve to be king!" He let his voice crack. "Because I persevere!"

Big Blue stroked his fake beard thoughtfully. He looked nothing like the true cowboy he was based on; the hat was a little too cheap, and the clothes were too pale and pastel to match the burst of primary colors that made up the original ancient wrappings. But it got the job done. He pressed his spurred boot into Seth's neck. Seth's eyes fluttered to the crowd, where his three brothers screamed their family name and his mother covered her eyes. She could never bear the matches, but she was here now.

Time was running out. Big Blue jumped onto the arena ropes, pounding his chest with a scream, and then raced in front of the table of commentators. Seth stared into the lens of the camera and his manager gave him a thumbs-up. He'd just hired his manager maybe a week ago, and by 'hired,' more like 'began paying' his friend who'd already been doing this work in exchange for a six-pack on Sundays. Larry was a good guy who couldn't stand mismanaged talent.

And then Big Blue thundered back into the arena, screaming. He lifted a folding chair over his head, charging his prone opponent. He swung down hard, missing Seth's head by a fraction of an inch. It smashed down on his back and Seth yelped in pain as the crowd howled his wrestling name. "Stickfigure! Stickfigure!"

Larry nodded, his sunglasses glinting, and stuck his tongue out. What he did everytime a move sold.

Seth finally stood up, rolling his shoulders back. After this many matches the pain sort of shook off with a few stretches. Big Blue was still holding the chair, eyeing him up and down. Thirty-six matches. Three years. Two careers wound together from the moment Seth was hired for 'enhancement talent' (get hit and look pretty when you go down).

"I've got one thing to say to you, you bastard." Big Blue spat on the ground, sauntering toward him with slow, heavy steps. This wasn't planned, but Big Blue loved to improv.

"I don't want to hear it." Seth turned his back, waiting for a punch to duck.

But there was no punch. There was a squeeze. Big Blue wrapped the wrestler half his size into a big bear hug and lifted him off the ground. Seth couldn't help a laugh. 

"I wouldn't be the wrestler I am without you. I'm going to miss you, my guy."

Those two sentences from a man that had been pretending to try to kill him for years shocked a smile to Seth's face. 

His breath touched Seth's ear, carrying a secret that would not be heard by the crowd or even Larry, who now sat on the ropes. "And whatever you do, don't fuck it up. Because Haldyn sure as shit won't let you come back here. Do you understand?"

Seth swallowed, looking back at his mother, who finally took her hands off her eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes."

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