{Port Arthur, Texas - The Crooked M Ranch}
We stood in the sweltering heat, we acted like it didn't matter. Truly it didn't, the three of us would have endured hell itself for Melissa. Today would have marked forty four years on this earth. Cancer took her from us a year ago. We stood there, myself and my two now grown sons to pay our respects on her birthday. Both of them following in my footsteps, I wish to god they weren't but they love it as much as I do. My oldest, Jimmy, he passes me the bottle of wild turkey and produces three shot glasses. I pour into the three glasses and replace the lid on the bottle. We hoist them up and in unison.
"Melissa Bane, a bad bitch indeed."
Wild turkey had been her whiskey of choice, not mine, I couldn't stand the shit. I would only drink it with her, today it was for her and the memories she left behind. For me it was hard, like walking barefoot through broken glass. Each step without her was pure torture. For my boys it was worse, she had been their lighthouse in the storm that is life. She had guided them home on so many occasions and thru so much crap it was ridiculous. This ranch, that was all that was really left of her, aside from the memories we had together. The best of those memories stood by my side as they always had. Now though, now it was time for them to spread their wings. It was time to do what we Bane's do. It was time they were off on their own and wreck some shit.
"You're going to miss your flight son."
I say to James, he looks up and winks.
Jimmy: I'll be fashionably late pop, no worries.
I shake my head, "I raised you better than that kid. Get your ass out of here."
He chuckles and nods his head, making his exit towards his black Dodge Challenger.
Mac Bane: Reckless punk kid.
"Would you really like him to be any other way Dad?", was the response I got from the youngest.
Mac Bane: No Aeric, no I would not.
Aeric Bane: He must be a lot like you were at his age.
I laugh and shake my head.
Mac Bane: He’s nothing like I was at that age. He’s far more brash, and not nearly ruthless enough for the shit he talks. There’s a lot to admire about your brothers game though. Much like your own. I feel like your ready Aeric. You’ve trained hard, paid your dues kid. Find a home and branch out. Let’s really build up this brand in a way that would make your mom proud.
Aeric Bane: She was quite the marketing guru.
Mac Bane: One of her many talents but yes, that was a specialty of her and one she loved. She was passionate about it. I never got it, but it made her happy so I just let her do her thing.
Aeric nodded his head, accepting of what his dad said. He shook his head, try to will the tears away. I knew that struggle well and so I just grabbed his shoulder.
Mac Bane:(whispering) Let it go son, let it all out.
I’m relieved when he does. It’s not every day that you see a seven foot tall, three hundred pound man shuddering from a train wreck of emotions. No one cries pretty. I stand there with him until the grief that still feels so raw, so fresh for all of us has run its course.
fades...
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{The Crooked M Ranch - 8 Months ago….}
A light breeze causes the thin kitchen drapes to billow just a bit. It was just enough to get my attention. I stop what I’m doing with the ranch paperwork. Looking up, I inhale deeply, moisture, likely a storm. I pick up the phone and call the bunkhouse.
Mac Bane: Hey Jimbo…..
The Ranch Foreman responds before I can get going, what he tells me brings a smile to my face.
Mac Bane: thanks Jim, I do appreciate you sir. Tell the boys good job from me.
I leaned back in the chair and smiled.
Mac Bane: Damn, those kids have come a long way. I honestly couldn’t be any more proud of them if they were my own sons.
I stand up and shut the window so the kitchen doesn’t get wet from the incoming storm. That’s when it hits me, something Melissa had said to me probably ten years ago. She had told me that those boys could be my sons if I just allowed it to happen. With time and effort, it did happen, those ranch hands had become a part of my family. Those boys meant as much to me as my own kids did and it was a good feeling. Then the phone started to vibrate...I accept the call when I see the New Jersey number.
Mac Bane: this is Mac.
I hit the speaker button to free up my hands as I continue to sort paperwork.
???: Uncle Mac, it’s Trey…..Dad….
I snatch up the phone and bring it up close.
Mac Bane: Okay Trey, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
I pause as he says something.
Mac Bane: Don’t worry kiddo, I’ll be there tonight. Tell your Dad, well never mind, I’ll tell him when I get there.
I pause so he could say something else.
Mac Bane: That’s right Kid, brothers to the bone, never ride alone.
With that we ended our conversation, I send a quick text to Aeric and Jim my foreman, letting them know I’m headed out early. Within moments Aeric is in front of the house with my truck. I waste no words and climb in the passenger side, tossing my kit behind the seat.
Fade…
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{Later that night in Boston, General Hospital}
Family emergencies are never easy, they’re usually traumatic and dramatic and just a hell of a lot of no fun. In this case, a man that I had known my entire professional career, a man I call my brother. He had survived a widowmaker heart attack. The details were sketchy but I’d only just arrived. Kenneth Carolton Davidson III or “Trey” as I liked to call him was in full blown rage when I hit the waiting room.
Trey: What the hell do you mean, you don’t fucking know?!
The doctor tries to respond but is cut off by more accusations and demands by Ken’s son. “Godly” Ken Davidson, is a hell of a man. After Aeric got KC3 out of my way and I had spoken to the surgeon I found out more information. Once he was done telling me the gist of it, I allow a low slow whistle to escape me.
Mac Bane: So, he not only survived a massive heart attack that should have killed him. You put a stint in and a blood clot formed in his heart….so he’s survived not one but two widowmakers…..no wonder his son is about to go postal.
I stood there and just absorbed it all, I glanced back over at Trey who was still fuming.
Mac Bane: How long before he can have visitors?
The surgeon looks at me then at Trey then back to me again.
Surgeon: If you can get him to calm down, you can see him now. He’s been heavily sedated so he can rest.
I nodded my thanks and agreement. Trey gets up from the couch and I embrace the young man in a hug.
Mac Bane: Don’t you worry Trey, we’re here to help. The worst of it is over kid, your Dad is going to be okay.
Trey nods his head, I know he doesn’t believe me and why should he. He’s been through a personal hell that most cannot understand or appreciate. I do though, I went through the same thing with my dad, the only difference is….my dad didn’t survive his widowmaker. We make our way back to the room that Ken is in. The rhythm of his EKG machine is the only noise in the room. Everyone tries to be quiet as they enter the room. I peek around the corner of the door and I see he’s awake. He of course being Ken, frowns at me.
Mac Bane: Don’t you look at me in that tone of voice, you old sombitch.
The look of shock and amusement are priceless, although I guess judging by the looks of the doctor and the nurses I should have waited a day or two before cracking jokes. Ken begins to laugh, causing his EKG to jump a bit. I smile and fully enter the room, I make my way to his bedside. He stuck out his hand to shake hands and I slap it away and lean over the bed and hug him. He slaps my back, returning the hug.
Ken Davidson: Brothers to the bone, right old man?
Mac Bane: Never ride alone old man.
Ken simply smiles and drifts back into a contented unconsciousness. I look up at the doc and ask him a question.
Mac Bane: Morphine?
He shakes his head indicating no. I look over at Trey who’s still pretty much out of it.
Mac Bane: Aeric.
Aeric is up and has Trey in tow.
Mac Bane: I need you to do two things for me. Take Trey there out of the hospital so he can get food and a shower.
Trey: Uncle Mac….
I hold up my hand to forestall any argument.
Trey: Yes sir.
Mac Bane: Then Aeric, call Jimmy. He’ll want to know about Ken and maybe he can get in touch with Myke.
Fade.
{Present Day - Baltimore, MD)
I stand atop the hotel roof, watching the cigarette smoke drift away in the light breeze. Lockdown is in effect at the arena, the fans are all clamoring for answers. I’ve been here for less than a cup of coffee and I feel more amused than anything. I had set the tripod up earlier to mount the camera on. After I finish that, I press the remote to begin recording. The angry red eye lights up.
Mac Bane: So, I guess I should address the jackass in the room first. How’s that for a first impression Carnage?! Jack Michael is your champion. He’s not my champion but he’s yours. Him and his cronies get beat down at the show last week. I’m supposed to feel something for them? Why the fuck would I feel anything other than amusement.
I smile and wink at the camera.
Mac Bane: So, right….Paragon. What is a paragon? I know the definition. A person or thing that is viewed as a model excellence.
I roll my eyes.
Mac Bane: Factions like this are part of the problem. It's not hombre contra hombre anymore. Everyone likes to play the numbers game. The group that attacked them are no better than those they attacked. They'll be found out and then confronted. Then when they still get their asses beat they say, “well it was just a bit of bad luck.”. No it wasn’t, you lost because you weren’t good enough. You lost because you were stupid. You lost because you were not prepared for your opponent. Some of y’all received participation trophies and it shows.
The smile slides away replaced by a disgusted smirk.
Mac Bane: Jaz, you'll find no participation trophies here. I don't say this to be a dick, I say this to keep things real. You're five foot and five inches tall, a body weight of one hundred twenty five pounds. Your speed and agility are impressive but it won't save you in a match like this. In a bare knuckles brawl? You are in way over your head. One of my best friends was the original high risk heretic. He's retired now but the point I'm making is that I've seen the best of the best fly with the eagles and I've seen them crash and burn. You're no where near his level gal, you'd be better off staying home and cross stitching or something.
But no, I get it, you are a warrior. You would no more consider doing that than I would of remaining retired. I know that some will say I should've stayed retired, that this is a young mans game. Check your world champion, he's no spring chicken. Know why people hate him? He's good at the game, it's really as simple as that. He surrounded himself with people he considers to be the best at what they do. They watch and protect him from all comers. He's not stupid, he knows what he's doing. So for someone like me who's here pretty much solo? Patience of the practiced hunter is what it takes. Knowing when to take your shot, then taking it and making sure that you have the kill.
I'm a patient hunter Jaz, I can endure a beating for longer than most. I can bide my time and when you slip up and we both know you will. You'll come crashing down to earth. It's not the fall that hurts kiddo, it's that sudden stop at the end.
I wink at the camera as the scene fades.
Fin
