Obviously they didn’t want to hear a word about coming out.
It was decided he’d betray his longtime tag team partner, Florence “The Grizzly” Bair, and join up with the evil Syndicate. He would be the latest victim of their corruption and abandon his golden locks for slick, straight dark-green hair and wild face paint to morph into a legendary heel loathed by all.
Being a villain breathed new life into his career, and those years were some of his best in the business. He had twisted storylines, brutal matches, and he won the promotion’s heavyweight champion title twice as a member of the evil Syndicate.
Eventually, Goldie was supposed to have double-crossed the Syndicate and eliminated them in a four-way, no-holds-barred match that would have been an epic televised event. It would have ended his arc as a villain, cemented his return as a hero, and allowed him to reunite with Florence to reform their tag team and ascend to a new level of stardom.
So much for that.
Goldie was injured a month before the four-way was scheduled, and Florence was swapped in to take down the Syndicate instead. The entire storyline had to be rewritten to accommodate the switch, and they played up Goldie’s injury as retaliation from the Syndicate for refusing to follow their orders during a big match. Goldie had to pretend to be hurt in the ring so he could be dramatically carried off on a stretcher and build the foundation for Florence vowing to avenge his fallen friend.
Florence went on to win the four-way match and a place in history for what was still considered one of the best bouts ever seen in professional wrestling. Goldie was close friends with Florence, and he was only slightly bitter about his buddy’s fame following the victory over the Syndicate.
Like most success, it was fleeting.
Florence had his own trouble a few years later over bogus assault charges that came as a result of a fan attacking him in the parking lot after a show. The security cameras at the venue didn’t show the fan hitting Florence, only Florence’s brutal response. He admitted to losing his temper, but he claimed he’d reacted so harshly because the man had a knife. No knife was found, and though the charges were eventually dropped, he’d already been ruined by the press. He was quietly sidelined before the company decided not to renew his contract, effectively blacklisting him and killing his career.
Goldie saw Florence every couple of months to have a beer and bullshit over the good old days. Florence had a second life as a podcaster and wrestling commentator, and he always made a point to visit Goldie when he was in town.
Such a visit was coming due soon, and Goldie knew Florence would want to hang out.
Honestly, he wasn’t feeling it.
Maybe it was the cold creep of winter crawling in that was souring Goldie’s mood more than usual, but he didn’t want to sit around and bullshit about the same matches for hours on end. He was finding more and more lately that he wanted to move on. He had the urgent itch to toss everything in his apartment into a dumpster and start fresh, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.
He’d worked so hard to earn every mug and T-shirt, each action figure and knickknack, and he’d literally bled to earn his tiny kingdom—however brief its reign had been.
Fuck, Goldie didn’t know what he wanted.
He just felt… empty.
He missed wrestling and equally resented it, caught between mourning his career and loathing the high cost of a physically demanding sport, and he had no idea what to even do with himself. He poured his frustrations into his work, picked up more shifts at the gym, and spent every free moment training for yoga. He avoided Florence’s messages, and he hoped that this nagging melancholy would melt away when the snow finally did.
In about three months.
Fuck.
Goldie figured he had one of those seasonal mood disorders or something because he went through this same depression every winter. His last relationship had ended the previous winter when his boyfriend couldn’t handle him moping around his apartment for weeks on end. It definitely felt like it was getting worse, but Goldie didn’t know how to shake it. He couldn’t do enough push-ups or sit-ups or lunges to ease the void eating him up inside, and the ache in his bones was impossible to escape.
Especially when it was cold.
Fuck.
Even bundled up with a sweater, a hoodie, a trench coat, scarf, and beanie, the bite of the cold wintery air was horribly sharp. It exacerbated the throb in his hips and his back, and his knees were also complaining especially loudly today. Goldie hurried around the block to where his car was parked, scowling at the icy gust stinging at his nose and eyes.
The city was quite beautiful when it first snowed, but that had been two days ago. The streets were now lined with piles of gray slush, and just enough had melted to wash away the salt and make the sidewalks slick. The only remaining snow was clinging to the roofs of cars that hadn’t been driven since it fell or on top of porticos and doorway awnings.
They were expecting another six inches this weekend, and the cycle would begin anew.
Pretty snow, ugly slush, more snow, and then more slush, over and over again until spring finally came to save him from this freezing hell.
Goldie had just finished up a long shift at the gym, and it was already dark. He was cold, sore, and he wanted nothing more than to get home as fast as possible to take a hot shower and go right to bed with a stiff drink.
The parking lot for the gym was directly behind it, but there was no direct access. He had to walk around the building to get to the gate. It was only around the block, but his knees were hurting terribly, and each step was agony.
Instead of slowing down, he walked faster. His logic was it would be better to go on and get it over with, so he ignored the pain and plowed ahead. The sidewalk wasn’t too crowded, but he still had to cut through a few people who were dragging their feet and holding him up. He’d just sidestepped around a chatty couple to turn the corner, and then—
Bam!
