“Good match,” I said with a soft smile, barely audible over the noise of the backstage area.
Cal smiled back, a genuine expression that rarely made it to his face. “Thanks for making me look so damn good,” he said.
“You needed some help stealing the show,” I teased.
We stared at one another a beat longer than necessary. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind that hum under my skin again. I caught the glimpse of Cal’s gaze lingering over me entirely, his eyes examining me up and down, my chest, my arms, my face, before snapping back to my eyes. I did the same, tracing the line of ink on his neck.
Fuck, what was that?
Was he… was he checking me out?
No, that wouldn’t make sense. Cal was always overly observant, always sizing me up for weaknesses. Anything more than that would be ridiculous. But why did my mind wander to that thought? Why was that what my brain thought was going on?
Was I checking him out instead?
I swallowed hard, stepping back as the confusion swirled in my gut.
Wait. Did I?
3
FALL - CINCINNATI, OHIO
Now playing: Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
Onlyfivedayswentby before Cal and I got the call to come to the UWF office in Orlando. Rob Harlow had asked us both to come in together for it, which was expected given our recent success was built entirely off of one another right now.
Walking into the administrative wing of the UWF headquarters felt different than walking into the Performance Center. The PC smelled like sweat and ambition; this place smelled like leather, expensive cologne, and power. The walls were lined with framed posters of past legends staring down at us with championship gold around their waists. It was a silent reminder:You are small. This is big.
Rob laid out the plan to us with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved forWrestle Empirechampionship wins. Rob Harlow was a Hall of Famer who had made his place in the history of this company back in the nineties, with an epic feud that went down in history as the thing that changed the landscape of professional wrestling as a whole. Sitting across from him felt surreal, like staring at a monument that had suddenly decided to start talking business.
“You two have something this company hasn’t seen since I was active on the roster,” he said with confidence, leaning back in his oversized leather chair. “Whether you guys see it or not, you’ve laid a foundation that in all my years in this business, I only saw once.”
He didn’t need to say the names. We knew he was talking about the greats. The ones who sold out stadiums just by looking at each other from across the ring.
Rob went on to explain what he wanted to do for us. His hope was that we’d agree to multi-year contracts onShowdown, with a debut in January at theMan Overboardpay per view. Every year, this pay per view served as the kickoff on the road to professional wrestling’s biggest event of the year,Wrestle Empire, the grand stage of this business, where legacies were instilled, and history was made.
But the thing aboutMan Overboardthat was so unique was the main event. The event was known for a match calledEvery Man For Himself, a thirty, sometimes even forty-man battle royale where entrants enter the ring every three minutes. The main objective: throw as many people over the top ropes as you can. Whoever is left standing when everyone is eliminated is named the winner and gets the opportunity to pick what title they want to battle it out for atWrestle Empirein the spring.
Almost everyone chooses to go for the Heavyweight Title, which is held onShowdown, but every now and then, the UWF title is chosen, and the winner represents as the head of theDemolitionshow.
These matches are always spectacular, and what makes them spectacular, you might wonder, is their unpredictability. Legends return for this match. New guys debut. Spots and outcomes have to be changed on the fly, and most importantly, you see others do moves and stunts you’d never see them do any other time. Competing in this is a dream come true, and even trying my best to remain professional, I knew my excitement was bleeding through.
Every Man For Himselfwas one of the few pay per view matches that my dad and uncle never came out victorious on in their day. They were tag team specialists; the chaos of a battle royale never suited their style. And now, I have the possibility to one day do just that, walk out ofMan Overboardas the only Reed to ever win the main event.
Except this year, that would most certainly not be the outcome.
Rob told us he wanted us to come in as mid or late entrants in the event, showcasing our style, our abilities to hang with the big dogs, and make our debut to the main roster known to the fans. And of course, throw in some heavy hitting tension and hatred against one another into the match too.
“We want the fans to know that even though you’re both rookies, you hate each other more than you want to win,” Rob said, tapping a pen against his desk.
Cal let out a short, dry snort next to me. “Won’t be hard.”
I shot him a sideways glance. “Careful, Kincaid. Don’t make ittooconvincing.”
Rob chuckled. “Exactly. That’s the energy.”
Of course, the new guys would be eliminated. That was the script. But that was hardly the point here. The point was, we would be debuting as active talent on the main roster in a way that is only reserved for talent of a certain caliber. Apparently, Cal and I were just that.
