Chronicle 38
Sarah heard the knock.
She froze.
Not because she wasn't expecting anyone.
Her mother had been coming and going.
Management had been coming and going.
Contractors had certainly been coming and going.
At this point, Sarah had developed a small involuntary
twitch whenever somebody knocked on the door.
…but this knock...
She didn't know.
Something about it.
Sarah got up from the couch.
Fido followed her.
She reached the door.
Opened it.
...and stopped.
Lars stood on the other side.
Sarah stared at him.
Lars stared back.
A million thoughts exploded through her head at once.
Where have you been?
Why didn't you call?
How could you do that to me?
Who was she?
Were there more?
Did you sleep with her?
Do you still love me?
Do I still love you?
Do I hate you?
Do I want to hit you?
Do I want to hold you?
Outwardly...
Nothing.
Sarah's face was stone.
"...Hi."
Lars swallowed.
"Hi."
Fido looked between them.
Even he seemed uncertain what the proper response was.
Sarah finally spoke.
"Where have you been?"
Lars looked down.
"With Sven."
"I know that."
"Right."
"I mean..."
Sarah folded her arms.
"...why were you gone for days?"
Lars rubbed the back of his neck.
"I don't have a good answer."
Sarah's expression didn't change.
"I didn't ask if it was good."
Lars nodded.
"Fair."
He exhaled.
"I just..."
He searched.
"...needed to get away."
"For several days?"
"Yeah."
"Without talking to me?"
Lars looked ashamed.
"Yeah."
Sarah waited.
Lars didn't defend himself.
Didn't make a joke.
Didn't tell her she was overreacting.
He just stood there.
"I'm not here to start anything."
Sarah nodded.
"Good."
"I'm not interested in another argument."
"Neither am I."
Silence.
Lars shifted his weight.
"I'm flying to Ercolanum."
Sarah blinked.
"When?"
"Today."
Of course.
The tour.
Sarah had almost forgotten.
Almost.
"So..."
Lars gestured toward the apartment.
"...I need some stuff."
Sarah stared.
"My clothes."
"I figured."
"My gear."
"Yeah."
"Passport."
"That might help."
Lars almost smiled.
Sarah almost did too.
Neither quite managed it.
"...and..."
Lars pointed at the door.
"I don't have a key anymore."
Sarah looked at the new lock.
Then back at Lars.
Right.
The stupid door.
Of all the things that had happened...
The stupid door had managed to complicate this too.
Sarah stepped aside.
"Come in."
Lars hesitated.
Then entered.
Fido sniffed him.
Lars crouched.
"Hey, buddy."
Fido wagged his tail.
Traitor.
Sarah closed the door.
Lars stood again.
Neither moved.
There was so much to say.
Neither wanted to say any of it.
Finally-
"I'm sorry."
Sarah looked at him.
Lars swallowed.
"For..."
He stopped.
There were too many things.
"...everything."
Sarah said nothing.
"I know that's not good enough."
"No."
"I know."
Lars nodded.
"I'm not expecting you to forgive me."
Sarah looked away.
"I'm not even sure I'm asking you to."
That made her look back.
Lars continued.
"I don't think I deserve to walk in here and say I'm
sorry and..."
He gestured between them.
"...have everything go back."
"It can't."
"I know."
Sarah's voice was quiet.
"It can't ever go back."
Lars nodded.
"I know."
Another silence.
Then-
"I still love you."
Sarah's eyes immediately watered.
Damn it.
She had been doing so well.
Lars continued before she could respond.
"I do."
"I know that probably sounds stupid after what I
did."
Sarah shook her head.
"No."
Lars looked at her.
"It doesn't."
Sarah swallowed.
"I still love you too."
There.
Said.
It didn't fix anything.
Didn't erase anything.
Didn't answer anything.
It was simply true.
Lars looked relieved.
Then somehow sadder.
"...but..."
Sarah nodded.
"I know."
Lars looked toward the floor.
"I don't know if I want this anymore."
Sarah's heart squeezed.
He quickly looked up.
"I don't mean you."
"I know."
"I mean..."
He gestured around the apartment.
"The marriage."
"The whole..."
He struggled.
"...married life."
Sarah nodded slowly.
"I know."
Lars stared at her.
Sarah wiped beneath one eye.
"Because I don't know either."
Now it was Lars' turn to be surprised.
Sarah shrugged weakly.
"I love you."
"…but whether I want to keep being married to
you..."
She exhaled.
"...that's a different question."
Lars absorbed that.
Sarah continued.
"I haven't decided."
"Neither have I."
"I don't know what I want."
"Neither do I."
Sarah stared at him.
Lars stared back.
Then...
Somehow...
Sarah laughed.
Not happily.
Not bitterly either.
Just...
Absurdly.
Lars gave the same little laugh.
"Well."
Sarah sniffled.
"At least we agree on something."
"Our marriage is completely up in the air."
"Progress."
Lars smiled.
"Look at us communicating."
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Don't ruin it."
"Sorry."
Another silence.
Less hostile this time.
Still painful.
…but breathable.
Lars leaned against the wall.
"I don't think we should figure it out today."
Sarah nodded immediately.
"No."
"Definitely not."
"We'll just fight again."
"Probably."
"…and I'm still angry."
"You should be."
"…and you're..."
Sarah hesitated.
Lars finished it.
"Confused."
"Yeah."
"Very."
Sarah nodded.
"So..."
She shrugged.
"...not today."
"Not today."
"When?"
Lars thought.
"I don't know."
Sarah nodded.
Strangely...
That answer didn't frighten her as much as it would have a
few days earlier.
Maybe because for once...
They weren't pretending to know.
Lars chuckled.
"You know what's funny?"
"What?"
"Every other time Vince suddenly sends me
somewhere..."
Sarah already knew.
"...you hate it."
"I hate it."
"You complain for three days."
"I complain professionally."
"You complain while packing."
"I complain at the airport."
"You complain when you land."
"I've developed a system."
Sarah smiled.
A real one.
Small.
…but real.
Lars smiled too.
"...but this time..."
He looked toward the bedrooms.
"...couldn't have come at a better time."
Sarah's smile faded.
…but she nodded.
"No."
"It couldn't."
"Space."
"Yeah."
Lars looked at her.
"Maybe it'll help."
"Maybe."
"Give me time to figure out what I actually want."
"Me too."
"…and then..."
Lars shrugged.
"...when I come back..."
Sarah finished it.
"We talk."
"With clearer heads."
"Hopefully."
"Without screaming."
"Preferably."
"Without calling each other stupid."
Sarah winced.
"Yeah."
Lars looked at her.
"Without jokes."
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
"Let's not make promises you can't keep."
Lars laughed.
Sarah did too.
Then the laughter disappeared.
Because underneath it...
Everything was still there.
Lars looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
Sarah's eyes watered again.
"I know."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"I love you."
Sarah nodded.
"I love you too."
Lars stood there another moment.
Then pointed toward the bedroom.
"I should..."
"Yeah."
Sarah stepped aside.
Lars went to gather his things.
The suitcase sat by the door.
Lars had his wrestling bag over one shoulder.
Passport.
Phone.
Wallet.
Everything he needed.
Almost.
He looked toward the hallway.
"Can I see them?"
Sarah didn't need to ask who.
"Of course."
They went together.
Sophia saw him first.
"DADDY!"
She ran.
Lars barely had enough time to drop the wrestling bag before
Sophia crashed into him.
He caught her.
Lifted her.
Held her.
Normally...
This was where Lars would laugh.
Spin her.
Make some ridiculous noise.
Ask if she'd gotten heavier.
Something.
This time...
He just held her.
Sophia squeezed his neck.
"Where you go?"
Lars closed his eyes.
Sarah watched from the doorway.
"Work."
"Again?"
Lars laughed softly.
"Yeah."
"Again."
Sophia frowned.
"When you come home?"
Lars hesitated.
Sarah noticed.
He didn't know.
Not really.
The tour would end.
…but that wasn't what Sophia was asking.
"...soon."
Sophia accepted that.
Children could accept answers adults couldn't.
Lars kissed her forehead.
"I love you."
"Love you."
He squeezed her tighter.
Then Sarah brought Peter over.
Lars took him.
Peter stared at him.
Lars smiled.
"Hey."
Peter reached toward his face.
Lars laughed.
There it was.
That laugh Sarah knew.
Peter grabbed his nose.
"Ow."
Sophia giggled.
Lars kissed Peter's hand.
Then his forehead.
Then held him against his chest.
His face changed.
Sarah saw it.
So did Lars.
He turned away slightly.
Too late.
His eyes were wet.
"I love you, buddy."
Peter had absolutely no idea what was happening.
He rested his head against Lars.
That made it worse.
Lars closed his eyes.
Held him.
Longer than necessary.
Longer than usual.
Sarah felt her own tears coming.
Because whatever Lars was to her right now...
Whatever he had done...
Whatever happened to their marriage...
This part was real.
He loved them.
Lars handed Peter back.
Then Sophia hugged his leg.
Lars crouched and hugged her again.
"Be good for Mum."
Sophia nodded.
"Okay."
"Help her."
Another nod.
"Don't drive her crazy."
Sarah sniffled.
"Lars."
"What?"
Sophia giggled.
Lars smiled.
Then kissed her forehead one last time.
He stood.
Sarah and Lars looked at each other.
Neither spoke until they were back at the door.
Lars picked up his bags.
"Okay."
Sarah nodded.
"Okay."
He opened the door.
Then stopped.
Turned.
"Bye, Sarah."
Sarah stared at him.
"Bye, Lars."
Nothing happened.
No kiss.
No promise.
No declaration that everything would work out.
Lars turned toward the hallway.
"Wait."
He stopped.
Sarah walked toward him.
Lars looked confused.
Sarah wrapped her arms around him.
Lars froze.
Only for a second.
Then his bags dropped to the floor.
His arms wrapped around her.
Tightly.
Sarah buried her face against his shoulder.
Lars buried his against hers.
…and both of them cried.
No argument.
No scorekeeping.
No explanations.
No decisions.
Just...
Two people who still loved each other...
...and had absolutely no idea whether love was enough.
Sarah squeezed him.
Lars squeezed back.
Neither wanted to be the first to let go.
Eventually...
They had to.
Sarah stepped back.
Wiped her face.
Lars did the same.
He picked up his bags.
"I'll..."
He stopped.
No promises.
Sarah understood.
"Go."
Lars nodded.
He stepped through the doorway.
Sarah watched him walk down the hall.
He looked back once.
Sarah was still there.
Then he turned the corner.
Gone.
Sarah closed the door.
She leaned against it.
Closed her eyes.
…and breathed.
For now...
That was all either of them could do.
Vince McGeady's private jet was somewhere over the Atlantic
when Cathy Greenwall realized something was wrong.
Vince had been quiet for almost six minutes.
She looked up from her tablet.
Vince was sitting across from her, staring intently at a
legal pad.
Aiden sat beside him, scrolling through something on his
phone. Triple X was stretched out in the seat opposite Cathy, eyes closed,
although Cathy knew from experience that this did not necessarily mean he was
asleep.
Vince suddenly scribbled something.
Cathy narrowed her eyes.
"What are you doing?"
Vince didn't look up.
"Working."
"That's what worries me."
Aiden snorted.
Vince finally looked at her.
"I do work, Cathy."
"I didn't say you didn't."
"You implied it."
"I implied that when you go quiet and start writing
things down, I usually end up with more work."
Triple X opened one eye.
"She's right."
Vince frowned.
"Why is everybody against me?"
"We're on your private jet," Aiden said.
"We're clearly not that against you."
Vince considered that.
"Fair."
He looked back at his legal pad.
Then smiled.
Cathy saw the smile.
"Oh, no."
"What?"
"That's the smile."
"What smile?"
"The one where you've decided something."
"I decide things all the time."
"That's also the problem."
Vince rolled his eyes.
Then he turned the legal pad around.
Written across the top in large block letters were two
words.
THE NORTHMEN
Aiden stared at it.
Triple X leaned forward.
Cathy sighed.
"You named them."
"I named them."
"Lars and Sven."
"The Northmen."
"You've been thinking about this the whole
flight?"
"I've been thinking about a lot of things."
Vince tapped the page.
"…but this one needs attention."
Cathy leaned back.
The idea itself no longer surprised her. Vince had already
made it abundantly clear that Lars' sudden status as one of the most hated men
in professional wrestling had not made Vince want to remove him from
television.
It had made Vince want to monetize it.
"The Northmen," Triple X repeated.
"Simple," Vince said. "Easy to chant. Easy to
put on a shirt. Says exactly what they are."
Aiden shrugged.
"I don't hate the name."
Vince pointed at him.
"Thank you."
"I said I don't hate it."
"That's practically an endorsement."
"It absolutely isn't."
Vince ignored him.
"I've got the first few appearances figured out."
Cathy lowered her tablet.
"Okay."
Vince looked surprised.
"Okay?"
"Yes. Let's hear it."
"You don't want to tell me it's terrible first?"
"I'd like to know what I'm calling terrible."
Vince grinned.
"Progress."
Triple X rubbed his face.
"Vince."
"Right."
Vince sat forward.
"We don't throw them into anything important."
That got everyone's attention.
Cathy blinked.
Aiden slowly lowered his phone.
Triple X stared at Vince.
Vince looked between them.
"What?"
"Nothing," Cathy said.
"No. What?"
Triple X shook his head.
"Keep going."
Vince narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"First few Combat Arts shows, they wrestle local
competitors."
Aiden's eyebrows rose.
"Locals?"
"Locals."
"No established team?"
"No."
"No big angle?"
"Not yet."
Cathy stared at him.
Vince noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"There it is again."
"I'm listening."
Vince continued.
"We introduce them. Vignettes. Couple of short pieces.
Establish who they are. Establish what they do. Then they come out, beat the
hell out of some local team and leave."
Triple X nodded slowly.
"How long?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"The crowd."
Cathy's eyebrows went up.
Vince pointed toward her.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Looking surprised every time I say something
intelligent."
"I haven't said anything."
"Your face has."
Aiden covered his mouth.
Vince continued.
"We do it for a few shows. Maybe two. Maybe three.
Maybe four. We see what happens."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Do the Romans hate them?"
"They probably will," Cathy said.
"Good. Do they hate them in the right way?"
That distinction mattered.
Everyone knew it.
"Do people want to see somebody beat them?" Vince
continued. "Or do people want them to go away? Are the vignettes getting
reactions? Are people talking about them? Is Sven getting dragged down by Lars?
Does Sven help Lars? Do they have chemistry with this presentation?"
Triple X nodded.
"Basically a trial run."
"Exactly."
Aiden stared at his adoptive father.
"That's..."
He stopped.
Vince waited.
"...actually pretty sensible."
Vince leaned back.
"Thank you."
Cathy looked at Aiden.
"You shouldn't have said it."
"Why?"
Vince was already smiling.
"Look at him."
Vince attempted to suppress the smile.
He failed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Triple X chuckled.
Vince waved them off.
"…and there's another problem."
"The locker room," Cathy said.
"The locker room."
The humour disappeared.
The hostility toward Lars was not theoretical. Sarah had
spent most of her adult life in professional wrestling. People loved her.
A lot of them were furious.
Some were furious enough that putting Lars into a wrestling
ring with them seemed like a particularly bad experiment in human self-control.
The canon already established management's concern that resentment could turn
into stiff work or old-fashioned locker-room justice, even before Vince
rejected the idea of simply keeping Lars off television.
Vince tapped the legal pad.
"That's another reason I want locals."
Triple X nodded.
"People without history with Sarah."
"Exactly."
Cathy frowned.
"They still need to know what they're getting
into."
"Of course."
"…and Lars needs to understand that he's going to have
to be extremely professional."
"He will."
"You know that?"
"No."
Cathy stared at him.
Vince shrugged.
"…but if he isn't, the experiment ends very
quickly."
Aiden leaned back.
"So what's the actual plan if nobody on the roster
wants to work with them?"
"We wait."
"For how long?"
"Few weeks."
"…and if nothing changes?"
Vince shrugged again.
"We pivot."
Silence.
Triple X stared.
Cathy stared.
Aiden stared.
Vince looked around.
"What?"
Cathy finally spoke.
"You'll pivot."
"Yes."
"If the gimmick doesn't work."
"Yes."
"After giving it a reasonable trial."
"Yes."
"Based on audience reaction."
"Yes."
"…and if the locker room situation doesn't improve, you
won't force people into a program with Lars."
Vince frowned.
"Why are you saying everything I just said back to
me?"
"I'm making sure I heard it."
"You heard it."
Triple X leaned toward Aiden.
"Did somebody replace him?"
Vince pointed at Triple X.
"I heard that."
Aiden was laughing now.
Vince threw his hands up.
"I don't understand what you people think I've been
doing for the last forty years."
Cathy didn't hesitate.
"Do you want the alphabetical list or
chronological?"
Vince glared at her.
Then smiled.
"No."
He picked up his pen again.
"If The Northmen get over, great. We build from there.
Eventually somebody in the locker room will hopefully decide they no longer
want to actually murder Lars."
"High standard," Aiden said.
"We work with what we have."
"…and then?" Triple X asked.
"Then we have a real program."
Vince's eyes lit up.
"Somebody steps up. Somebody decides they're going to
defend Rome from these two barbarians. Now we've got something."
Cathy raised a finger.
"Careful."
Vince stopped.
"We already talked about this."
"I know."
"The Roman-barbarian imagery."
"I know."
"Rome has actual historical trauma associated with
raids and invasions."
"I know, Cathy."
Vince leaned forward.
"That's why we test it."
Cathy paused.
That was...
...annoyingly reasonable.
"If the audience responds badly," Vince continued,
"we change it. If they're offended in a way that doesn't translate into
wrestling heat, we change it. If nobody cares, we change it."
Aiden smiled.
"You're really committed to this whole 'learning from
evidence' thing today."
Vince gave him a look.
"I can turn this plane around."
"We're over the ocean."
"I'll find somewhere."
Triple X laughed.
Then Vince flipped the page.
"There's something else."
Cathy braced herself.
Here it came.
"I want Lars and Sven separated from the main locker
room."
Cathy blinked.
"...What?"
"Separate entrance into the arenas wherever we can
arrange it. Separate dressing area. Separate training time."
Triple X sat forward.
"You're serious."
"Completely."
"Security?"
"If we need it."
Aiden nodded slowly.
"That's actually smart."
Vince smiled.
Again.
Aiden sighed.
"Sorry."
"No, no."
Vince waved magnanimously.
"Continue."
Aiden refused.
Cathy picked it up.
"It limits confrontations."
"Yes."
"Stops somebody from cornering Lars backstage."
"Yes."
"Stops Lars from saying something stupid while emotions
are still high."
"Exactly."
"…and it gives the locker room time."
Vince pointed at her.
"Exactly."
Triple X nodded.
"It also makes Lars and Sven responsible for
themselves. They show up, work, leave."
"That's what I want."
Vince settled back into his chair.
"I'm not asking anybody to like Lars."
His tone was unusually serious.
"I'm not asking Sarah's friends to forgive him. That's
between Sarah, Lars and everybody involved in their lives."
He tapped the page again.
"…but I'm running a wrestling company. Lars works for
me. Sven works for me. If there's a way to use them without turning backstage
into a war zone, I'm going to see if it works."
Cathy looked at him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
Vince smiled.
"Okay?"
"Yes."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"No objections?"
"Not to the structure."
Triple X nodded.
"Me neither."
Aiden raised his hand.
"I'm good."
Vince looked genuinely delighted.
Then tried desperately not to look genuinely delighted.
He failed spectacularly.
Cathy laughed.
"You're loving this."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Three people just told you that you had a good
idea."
"I have good ideas every day."
"Not according to the three people sitting here."
Vince straightened his jacket.
"I am merely pleased that my highly compensated
executive team has finally recognized the quality of leadership available to
them."
Aiden stared at him.
"Highly compensated?"
"Don't ruin the moment."
Triple X laughed.
Vince picked up the legal pad and looked once more at the
words across the top.
THE NORTHMEN.
He smiled.
"If it works, it works."
"…and if it doesn't?" Cathy asked.
Vince shrugged.
"We pivot."
Another pause.
Cathy looked at Triple X.
Triple X looked at Aiden.
Aiden looked at Cathy.
Vince noticed all three of them.
"Oh, come on."
Aiden grinned.
"Sorry. We're still adjusting."
Vince shook his head.
Then that familiar smile returned.
"I didn't get here by being dumb."
Cathy tilted her head.
"No."
She smiled.
"You certainly didn't."
Vince nodded proudly.
Then Cathy added-
"You've just spent forty years making it unnecessarily
difficult for us to notice."
Triple X burst out laughing.
Aiden nearly dropped his phone.
Vince stared at Cathy.
Then slowly turned back toward the window.
"I should've flown alone."
By the time Lars Eriksson and Sven reached the hotel in
Volubilis, neither man particularly cared where they were anymore.
They were tired.
They were hungry.
They were irritated.
…and most importantly...
They were not supposed to be in Volubilis.
Originally, they had been booked on the same general travel
route as the rest of the Combat Arts roster heading toward Ercolanum.
Then Vince called.
Plans changed.
Flights changed.
Hotel changed.
Everything changed.
Why?
Vince had provided his usual comprehensive explanation.
"Go to Volubilis."
Lars had asked why.
"I'll meet you there."
That had apparently been the explanation.
So they went to Volubilis.
By the time they finally reached the hotel, Sven dragged
both suitcases through the lobby while Lars carried the wrestling bags and
looked like a man who might happily sleep on the floor if someone simply
promised not to speak to him.
Sven approached the desk.
The receptionist smiled.
"Good evening."
"Evening."
"Checking in?"
"Please."
"Name?"
"Gormansson."
Lars looked over.
Sven glanced at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The receptionist typed.
"First name?"
"Sven."
More typing.
Then-
"Yes. Mr. Sven Gormansson."
Lars smiled.
Sven stared at him.
"What?"
"I don't think I've heard anybody call you that in
years."
"Because nobody does."
"Sounds distinguished."
"It's my name."
"Still sounds weird."
Sven rolled his eyes.
The receptionist continued.
"…and Mr. Lars Eriksson?"
"Unfortunately," Lars said.
The receptionist looked up.
Sven sighed.
"Ignore him…I've been trying for years."
The receptionist wisely decided not to participate.
A few minutes later, keys were distributed, directions given
and Sven was driving their rental car around toward the room.
Neither Sven nor Lars knew that their isolation was
deliberate.
Vince wanted them separated from the rest of Combat Arts.
Separate city.
Separate hotel.
Separate training arrangements.
…and, perhaps most importantly, a location where Vince could
film the first Northmen material without wrestling reporters, fans or the rest
of the locker room knowing what he was doing.
Vince had communicated none of this.
He had simply sent them to Volubilis.
Because Vince.
Sven parked.
Lars opened the passenger door.
Neither moved.
They sat.
Silence.
Finally Sven looked over.
"We have to get the bags."
"I know."
Neither moved.
Another ten seconds.
Sven sighed.
"Come on."
"I hate wrestling."
"No, you don't."
"I hate travelling."
"That I believe."
They climbed out.
Sven opened the back.
Lars grabbed one bag.
Then another.
Then-
"Excuse me?"
Lars looked around.
A little girl stood several metres away.
Maybe nine.
Maybe ten.
She stared at him.
Then at Sven.
Then back at Lars.
Her eyes widened.
"Are you Lars?"
Lars blinked.
The exhaustion disappeared from his face.
Not completely.
…but enough.
"Yeah."
The girl smiled.
"I knew it!"
Lars smiled back.
"Good. Because if I wasn't, this would be
awkward."
She giggled.
Sven continued unloading the car.
The girl hurried closer.
"I've seen you wrestle!"
"Hopefully the good matches."
"My favourite was when you and Sven fought the Iron
Giants!"
Sven looked over.
"See?"
He pointed at Lars.
"Somebody appreciates us."
Lars laughed.
The girl pulled out her phone.
"Can I have a picture?"
"Sure."
Lars put his bag down.
The girl stepped beside him.
Lars crouched slightly so they could both fit comfortably
into the frame.
Then-
"No!"
The girl looked around.
A man was approaching quickly.
Her father.
"Dad-"
"No."
He reached them.
"Come here."
"…but I just want a picture."
"I said no."
Lars slowly stood.
The girl frowned.
"…but-"
"Now."
She reluctantly moved toward her father.
Lars stared at him.
The father stared back.
There was no uncertainty in his expression.
He knew exactly who Lars was.
…and not because of wrestling.
The man pointed at him.
"My daughter doesn't need a picture with you."
Lars' smile disappeared.
Sven stopped unloading.
The father continued.
"Not after what you did."
Lars' jaw tightened.
The girl looked confused.
"Dad..."
"Go inside."
"…but-"
"Please."
The girl reluctantly walked toward the hotel.
Lars watched her go.
Then looked back at the man.
"You could've just said no."
"I did."
"You didn't need the speech."
The man scoffed.
"I think you deserve a lot more than a speech."
Sven closed his eyes.
Oh, wonderful.
The man continued.
"What you did to Sarah was disgusting."
Lars stared at him.
"You don't know the half of it."
"I don't need to know the half of it."
Lars stepped closer.
Sven immediately straightened.
The father didn't retreat.
"I don't need to know any of it."
"You know some pictures."
"I know you're married."
Lars' jaw tightened further.
"I know you have children."
"Careful."
"I know you went out, got drunk and put your hands all
over other women while your wife was home taking care of those children."
"You don't know my marriage."
"I don't have to."
"Then don't talk about it."
"I'll talk about whatever I want."
Lars stepped closer again.
Sven started walking toward them.
The man pointed toward Lars' chest.
"You humiliated your wife in front of the entire
world."
"Don't point at me."
"You humiliated your children."
"I said don't point at me."
"…and frankly, I don't know why the WFE didn't fire
you."
Lars laughed bitterly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You think you know what happened?"
"I know enough."
"You know nothing."
"I know you cheated on your wife."
Lars stared at him.
"…and that was wrong."
The words landed differently.
Not because Lars disagreed.
Because he couldn't.
The man continued.
"Whatever problems you had with her..."
Lars stepped forward.
"...whatever problems she had with you..."
Another step.
"...you were married."
"Back off."
"You made that promise."
"Back off."
"You broke it."
Lars was almost nose-to-nose with him now.
"Say one more thing about my family."
The man stared straight back.
"Your family deserved better."
Lars moved.
Sven got there first.
He planted himself between them.
"Enough."
"Lars tried to move around him.
"Sven-"
"No."
Sven shoved Lars backward.
Not violently.
Firmly.
"Inside."
The father shook his head.
"See?"
Sven spun toward him.
"…and you."
The man stopped.
"You made your point."
"I-"
"You made it."
Sven pointed toward the hotel.
"Go find your daughter."
The father stared at both men.
Then shook his head.
"I hope Sarah leaves you."
Lars surged forward.
Sven caught him across the chest.
"Enough!"
The father walked away.
Lars watched him.
Breathing hard.
"Screw him."
Sven kept his hand against Lars' chest.
"Inside."
"Screw him!"
"Inside."
Lars grabbed his bag.
Sven grabbed the rest.
Neither spoke until the hotel-room door closed behind them.
Lars threw his bag onto the floor.
"Who the heck does he think he is?"
Sven locked the door.
"Someone who watches wrestling."
"He doesn't know me."
"No."
"He doesn't know Sarah."
"No."
"He doesn't know what happened."
"No."
"He doesn't know anything."
Sven turned around.
"He knows you cheated."
Lars stared at him.
Sven stared back.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Start with me."
"I'm not starting anything."
"You're supposed to be on my side."
"I am on your side."
"Didn't sound like it."
Sven sighed.
"Lars."
"What?"
"You almost got into a fight with a stranger in a hotel
parking lot."
"He came at me."
"He talked at you."
"He talked about Sarah."
"Yes."
"He talked about my kids."
"Yes."
"He-"
"…and then you nearly punched him."
Lars fell silent.
Sven pointed toward the door.
"You know what would've happened?"
Lars looked away.
"You hit him."
Nothing.
"He calls the Watchmen."
Lars rubbed his face.
"You get arrested."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Because I don't feel like spending my first night in
Rome trying to figure out how to bail your ass out of a Roman jail."
Lars dropped onto the edge of the bed.
Sven continued.
"…and whatever Vince has planned for us..."
He gestured between them.
"...you can kill it before it even starts."
Lars looked up.
Sven didn't know what Vince had planned.
Neither of them did.
They knew Vince wanted them in Volubilis.
They knew Vince was meeting them there.
They knew they were apparently working together again.
That was about it.
…but Sven knew one thing.
"This is an opportunity."
Lars said nothing.
"For both of us."
"I know."
"…and I don't care how angry you are."
Sven sat on the other bed.
"I don't care if somebody calls you every name they can
think of."
Lars looked toward him.
"You walk away."
Lars scoffed.
"Easy for you."
"No."
Sven shook his head.
"It's necessary for me."
That caught Lars.
Sven pointed at himself.
"You're not the only person in this team."
Lars looked down.
"If you get arrested..."
Sven continued.
"If you get suspended..."
"If Vince decides you're too much trouble..."
"That's my opportunity gone too."
Lars nodded.
Slowly.
"You're right."
"I know."
"Don't enjoy it."
"I always enjoy it."
Lars almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he leaned forward.
Elbows on knees.
Hands over his face.
The anger drained.
What replaced it was worse.
Exhaustion.
Embarrassment.
Fear.
Sven watched him.
Finally Lars spoke.
"...Is this what it's going to be like?"
Sven knew what he meant.
"Maybe."
"Everywhere?"
"I don't know."
Lars rubbed his face.
"I walk through an airport..."
"People stare."
"I go online..."
"Don't."
"I know."
"I come to a hotel..."
"Somebody says something."
Lars nodded.
Sven leaned back against the headboard.
"It'll probably calm down."
"When?"
"No idea."
"Great."
"I could lie."
"No."
"Then no idea."
Lars stared at the carpet.
He thought about Sarah.
Sophia.
Peter.
The hug at the door.
The photographs.
The little girl outside.
Her father pulling her away.
He had spent his entire career getting recognized.
Usually he loved it.
Even when he was tired.
Even when he was sore.
Someone wanted a picture?
Fine.
Someone wanted an autograph?
Fine.
Someone remembered a match from ten years ago?
Even better.
Now...
People recognized him for something else.
Lars exhaled.
"Do you think it'll get easier?"
Sven looked at him.
"Which part?"
Lars thought.
All of it.
Sarah.
The kids.
The guilt.
The anger.
The strangers.
The tour.
Whatever Vince wanted.
Being Lars Eriksson now.
"...Any of it."
Sven was quiet for a moment.
Then shrugged.
"I don't know."
Lars looked at him.
Sven smiled faintly.
"…but you're here."
Lars frowned.
"That's your wisdom?"
"It's all I've got."
Lars shook his head.
"Terrible."
"I'm tired."
"So am I."
Sven kicked off his shoes.
"Then sleep."
"What about Vince?"
"He said he'd meet us here."
"When?"
"He didn't say."
Lars stared.
Of course he didn't.
Sven pulled back the covers.
"If Vince wants us, he can knock."
Lars looked toward the door.
After what had just happened...
He wasn't particularly interested in hearing another knock.
Still...
He kicked off his shoes.
Lay back.
Stared at the ceiling.
…and wondered how many people in Volubilis already knew he
was there.
The alarm went off far too early.
Lars opened one eye.
Then closed it.
Across the hotel room, Sven's phone began vibrating.
Sven reached blindly toward the nightstand.
Missed.
Tried again.
Missed.
Finally grabbed it.
Silence.
Five seconds later-
Lars' phone rang.
Neither man moved.
It stopped.
Then rang again.
Sven groaned.
"That's Vince."
"How do you know?"
"Nobody else hates us this much."
Lars dragged a pillow over his face.
They had barely slept.
Yesterday had already been a mess of changed flights,
changed hotels, changed plans and Vince's unexplained decision that they were
going to Volubilis instead of Ercolanum.
Then Lars had nearly gotten into a fight with a stranger
outside the hotel.
Then he'd spent far too much of the night thinking about
Sarah.
…and now-
His phone rang again.
Lars grabbed it.
"What?"
Vince's voice exploded through the speaker.
"GOOD MORNING!"
Lars pulled the phone away from his ear.
Sven opened one eye.
"Vince?"
"Vince."
"Tell him he's dead."
"Apparently we're both dead."
Vince continued talking.
Lars rubbed his eyes.
"Where?"
Pause.
"Thymiaterium?"
Sven sat up.
"What?"
Lars listened.
"Now?"
Another pause.
"...fine."
He hung up.
Sven stared at him.
Lars stared back.
"Beach."
Sven fell backward onto the bed.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Vince is waiting."
"Let him."
"He sounded happy."
"That's worse."
Lars couldn't argue with that.
Under normal circumstances, getting from Volubilis to the
beach at Thymiaterium would have been an ordeal approaching two hours.
Fortunately, the Roman maglev turned the journey into
roughly half an hour.
Unfortunately...
It remained half an hour that began far too early in the
morning.
Lars spent most of the journey asleep against the window.
Sven spent most of it asleep against Lars.
Neither cared.
By the time they arrived at Thymiaterium, the morning sun
was already reflecting brightly off the water.
The beach itself was beautiful.
Lars hated it immediately.
"Too bright."
Sven squinted.
"Turn the sun down."
"I'll ask Vince."
They trudged toward the section of beach Vince had sent
them.
They didn't have to search very hard.
There were cameras.
Lighting equipment.
Production tents.
Crew members.
Several dozen people wandering around.
…and...
A Viking longship.
Lars stopped.
Sven stopped beside him.
They stared.
It wasn't a full-sized longship.
It was smaller.
Considerably smaller.
…but it was large enough to hold both men, camera-ready and
elaborately decorated with shields along its sides and a carved dragon head at
the bow.
Sven stared.
"...What the heck?"
Then-
"THERE THEY ARE!"
Both men winced.
Vince came marching across the sand toward them.
Unlike Lars and Sven, Vince looked like he'd slept twelve
hours, eaten the world's healthiest breakfast and personally negotiated peace
between three hostile nations before sunrise.
His arms spread wide.
"THE NORTHMEN!"
Lars stared at him.
Sven stared at him.
Vince waited.
Nothing.
"The Northmen!"
Sven rubbed his face.
"Who?"
"You."
Vince pointed at Lars.
Then Sven.
"The Northmen."
Lars looked at Sven.
Sven looked at Lars.
"We're The Northmen?"
"You're The Northmen."
"When did that happen?"
"Yesterday."
"Did we get a vote?"
"No."
"Okay."
Vince slapped Lars on the shoulder.
Lars nearly fell asleep from the impact.
"Come on!"
Vince turned toward the set.
"I've got everything ready!"
Lars trudged behind him.
Sven followed.
"I hate him."
"You told me not to get arrested."
"I may reconsider."
Vince either didn't hear them or chose not to.
He gestured proudly toward the beach.
"What do you think?"
Lars looked around.
"What am I looking at?"
"Everything!"
Vince spread his arms.
"This whole section is ours."
That finally got Sven's attention.
"You rented the beach?"
"Not exactly."
Vince's expression changed.
"It took some negotiating."
That meant money.
Probably a lot of money.
The local authorities had not initially been enthusiastic
about allowing an American wrestling company to commandeer part of a Roman
beach so two Swedish wrestlers could pretend to invade it.
Vince had persisted.
Then negotiated.
Then persisted some more.
Eventually...
Vince got his beach.
Because Vince generally got his beach.
He pointed toward the people wandering around.
"Those aren't real beachgoers."
Lars squinted.
One muscular man in swim trunks was stretching his
shoulders.
Another was practicing punches with someone behind a
production tent.
"No kidding."
"Actors. Local wrestlers. Stunt performers."
Vince pointed toward a group of women nearby.
"…and them."
Sven looked.
Then looked again.
"Okay."
Lars barely registered them.
Vince frowned.
"You two need coffee."
"Yes," Lars said.
"Desperately," Sven added.
"After."
Both men stared at him.
Vince clapped his hands.
"Let's work!"
The concept was simple.
At least Vince insisted it was simple.
Lars and Sven would begin aboard the miniature longship
offshore.
The camera would film them approaching the beach.
They would jump into the shallow water.
Drag the ship ashore.
Then...
Invade.
"Invade what?" Lars asked.
Vince pointed toward the beach.
"That."
"The beach?"
"Rome."
"This beach is Rome?"
"Metaphorically."
Lars stared.
"Okay."
Vince continued.
"The people see you coming."
"Why don't they run?"
"Because then you can't fight them."
"Right."
"Then everybody attacks."
Sven raised his hand.
"Everybody?"
"Everybody."
"The women?"
"No."
"The children?"
"There are no children."
"Good."
"The old man?"
Sven pointed.
Vince looked.
An elderly actor was sitting underneath an umbrella.
Vince frowned.
"No."
The old man looked disappointed.
Vince turned back.
"The wrestlers attack."
"Why?" Lars asked.
"Because you're invading."
"Right."
"Then you destroy them."
Now Lars understood.
"Okay."
Vince's enthusiasm increased.
"Everything."
He pointed between Lars and Sven.
"All the signature stuff."
"Power moves."
"Double teams."
"Throw people around."
"Make it look violent."
"Make it look overwhelming."
He smiled.
"When you hit this beach, nobody stops you."
Sven nodded.
That part, at least, was wrestling.
They could do wrestling.
Even half asleep.
Vince then pointed toward the women.
"Then they surround you."
Lars looked at them.
"Why?"
Vince stared at him.
"Because you're Vikings."
Lars waited.
That apparently was the explanation.
Sven scratched his beard.
"Okay."
Vince lowered his voice.
"I wanted them naked."
Lars blinked.
Sven blinked.
"What?"
"We're in Rome."
Vince shrugged.
"It's legal."
Sven looked toward the women.
"They're not naked."
"American television."
Vince sounded genuinely aggrieved.
"Apparently there are standards."
Lars stared at him.
"Apparently."
"So..."
Vince gestured toward the women.
"...we went as far as we could."
The women were dressed in extremely minimal beachwear.
Vince nodded approvingly.
"It works."
Sven looked at Lars.
Lars looked at Sven.
Neither had enough sleep remaining in his body to formulate
an opinion.
"Sure," Sven said.
Vince smiled.
"Exactly."
The first take failed because Lars nearly fell out of the
boat.
The second failed because Sven actually did.
The third failed because one of the decorative shields came
loose and floated away.
Vince stood onshore with his hands on his hips.
"Again!"
Lars climbed back into the longship.
"I've made terrible life choices."
Sven hauled himself aboard.
"I've made excellent life choices and somehow I'm still
here."
"Again!"
"We heard you!"
The fourth take worked.
The longship moved toward shore.
The cameras rolled.
Lars stood at the bow.
Sven behind him.
Both looked considerably more awake than they felt.
The boat hit the shallows.
They jumped.
Water exploded around them.
They dragged the longship ashore.
Then the first local wrestler charged.
Lars caught him.
Lifted him.
Drove him into the sand.
Another came at Sven.
Sven threw him.
Then another.
Then another.
Suddenly...
The exhaustion disappeared.
Because this was familiar.
This was what they did.
Lars ducked a clothesline.
Sven caught the attacker.
Lars hit the follow-up.
Another wrestler charged.
Double-team.
Down.
Another.
Down.
The brawl spread across the beach.
People scattered.
Umbrellas fell.
Beach chairs overturned.
A table collapsed.
Vince watched from behind the monitors.
His smile grew larger with every impact.
"YES!"
Cathy stood beside him.
She wasn't smiling quite as much.
Triple X watched another monitor.
"That looked good."
"Of course it looked good!"
Vince pointed.
"Look at them!"
Lars grabbed one wrestler and launched him into the water.
Sven took another down beside him.
Then the two stood back-to-back.
Several bodies scattered around them.
The cameras moved closer.
Vince leaned forward.
This...
This was what he had seen in his head.
The chaos.
The imagery.
The two big Scandinavian wrestlers standing on a Roman beach
after apparently destroying everyone foolish enough to oppose them.
Then came the women.
They emerged from among the staged beachgoers.
One approached Sven.
Another Lars.
Then more.
Soon both men were surrounded.
Lars tried very hard to remember where the cameras were.
Sven required considerably less effort.
Vince whispered-
"Perfect."
Cathy folded her arms.
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Look at it."
"I'm looking."
"It's money."
"We'll see."
Vince ignored her.
The camera moved closer.
Lars and Sven stared directly into it.
Sven spoke first.
"We came from the North."
Lars followed.
"You know who we are."
Sven smiled.
"You know what we do."
Then together-
"We are The Northmen."
Lars stepped toward the camera.
His exhaustion was gone now.
At least for the take.
His expression hardened.
"We're here..."
Sven moved beside him.
"...to take what's ours."
Cut.
Silence.
Then-
"YES!"
Vince threw both arms into the air.
Lars immediately stopped looking intimidating.
His shoulders dropped.
Sven yawned.
Vince rushed toward them.
"That's it!"
Lars wiped water from his face.
"Good?"
"Good?"
Vince looked offended.
"That was fantastic!"
Sven looked toward the catering table.
"Coffee?"
"In a minute."
Sven closed his eyes.
Vince grabbed both men by the shoulders.
"The Northmen!"
Neither reacted.
Vince shook them slightly.
"The Northmen!"
Lars looked at him.
"Vince."
"What?"
"Coffee."
Vince finally released them.
"Fine."
Sven immediately walked away.
Lars followed.
Vince remained on the beach.
Beaming.
Behind him, crew members began resetting the wreckage.
Actors got back to their feet.
Local wrestlers brushed sand from themselves.
One of the women pulled a cover-up over her shoulders.
Cathy walked over.
"So?"
Vince looked at her as though the answer were self-evident.
"So?"
"You've seen it."
"I've seen enough."
"Vince, we haven't even edited it."
"Doesn't matter."
Triple X joined them.
"It'll look good."
Vince pointed at him.
"Exactly."
Triple X continued.
"Whether people actually like it..."
Vince lowered his hand.
"...we'll find out."
Cathy smiled slightly.
There.
At least he remembered the plan.
Vince looked toward Lars and Sven.
Both were now standing at the catering table.
Lars had a coffee in each hand.
Sven was drinking directly from a large insulated dispenser
until a horrified crew member stopped him.
Vince smiled.
His new monsters.
His new tag team.
His Roman invaders.
The Northmen.
Cathy watched him.
"You really love this, don't you?"
Vince nodded.
"It's brilliant."
Triple X looked toward the miniature longship.
Then toward the scattered fake casualties.
Then toward the half-dressed women.
Then toward Lars, who appeared to be attempting to consume
two coffees simultaneously.
"...Maybe."
Vince grinned.
Cathy remained considerably less convinced.
Lars and Sven...
They were too tired to care.
For the moment, the only thing either Northman wanted to
take...
...was a nap.
The second vignette was supposed to be easier.
There was no boat.
No mass brawl.
No wrestlers getting thrown into the Atlantic.
No shields floating away.
Just two chairs.
Two women.
Lars.
Sven.
…and Vince explaining the idea.
Lars listened.
Then stared at him.
"No."
Vince stopped.
"What?"
"No."
Sven looked from Lars to Vince.
One of the women looked toward the other.
Vince frowned.
"Lars-"
"I'm not doing that."
Vince had described the shot very specifically.
Lars and Sven would sit facing the camera, each with a woman
on his lap. The framing would remain from the waist up, creating the obvious
impression that considerably more was happening than the camera could actually
show.
The women would be topless.
Technically.
Vince had already worked out how to keep everything within
American broadcast standards.
Lars’ and Sven's hands would provide the necessary
censorship.
Sven had listened to the entire explanation without
objection.
The women hadn't objected either.
Lars had.
Immediately.
Vince walked closer.
"What's the problem?"
Lars looked at him.
"You know what the problem is."
Vince paused.
That was fair.
Everyone knew what the problem was.
Photographs of Lars with other women had already spread
across social media and the wrestling press after his argument with Sarah. The
entire locker room knew he'd cheated. Vince himself had essentially built the
Northmen's new direction around the notoriety that followed.
Still-
"It's a vignette."
"I know."
"You're acting."
"I know."
"Then what's the problem?"
Lars stared at him.
"Sarah."
That finally slowed Vince down.
Lars glanced toward the chairs.
Then the women.
Then back toward Vince.
"Everything's already screwed up."
Vince didn't interrupt.
"I don't know what's happening with me and Sarah."
"I don't know what's happening when I go home."
"I don't even know if she wants me home."
His voice dropped.
"…but she's going to see this."
Vince's expression softened slightly.
Lars continued.
"So are Sophia and Peter eventually."
That landed harder.
Sven stopped looking amused.
Lars pointed toward the chairs.
"You want me sitting there pretending I'm f***ing
another woman after everybody just found out I actually cheated on my
wife."
Vince nodded slowly.
"I understand that."
"Good."
"…but-"
Lars closed his eyes.
Of course there was a but.
Vince gestured toward him.
"You're Viking raiders, having casual sex and
disregarding norms is what you do."
Lars opened his eyes.
"No."
Vince blinked.
"No?"
"No."
Sven scratched his beard.
Vince looked genuinely surprised.
"Lars, that's the character."
"Then change that part."
"The whole point is that you're dangerous."
"I can be dangerous without doing that."
"You're supposed to look like you take whatever you
want."
"I can beat people up."
"That's only part of it."
Lars felt his stomach tighten.
This was it.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
He was telling Vince McGeady no.
Not over travel.
Not over money.
Not over some stupid costume.
Over the biggest push Lars had ever been offered.
Probably the biggest push Sven had ever been offered too.
Yesterday Vince had spent absurd amounts of money getting
them onto a Roman beach, building them a longship and hiring half a small army
for them to destroy.
Vince was interested.
Really interested.
For years, Lars had wanted Vince to look at him like that.
Now Vince finally did.
…and Lars was refusing him.
Worse-
He wasn't only risking himself.
He glanced toward Sven.
Sven met his eyes.
For once, Sven didn't make a joke.
Lars looked back at Vince.
"I'm not doing it."
Vince stared at him.
Lars waited.
His heart was pounding considerably harder than it had
during the beach fight.
Vince could kill this entire thing right now.
Fine.
Lars wasn't going to do it.
Not this.
Finally Vince sighed.
"Okay."
Lars blinked.
"...Okay?"
"Okay."
Vince turned toward the chairs.
He stared at them.
Then at Sven.
Then at the women.
Then back at Lars.
His brain was visibly rearranging the vignette.
Sven pointed toward himself.
"I'm still doing it?"
Vince looked at him.
"Do you have a problem with it?"
"No."
"Good."
Vince pointed toward Sven's chair.
"You do it."
Then he pointed toward Lars.
"You don't."
Lars frowned.
"What do I do?"
Vince looked at the woman who had been paired with Lars.
"Hug him."
She smiled.
"That's it?"
"Sit with him. Arms around him."
Vince demonstrated vaguely.
"Close. Affectionate."
He looked at Lars.
"You okay with that?"
Lars considered it.
"Yeah."
"Good."
The woman stepped over beside Lars.
Vince looked at them.
Then back toward Sven and the other woman.
Something changed in his expression.
His eyes widened.
"Oh."
Sven recognized the look.
"Uh-oh."
Vince pointed between them.
"This is better."
Lars frowned.
"What?"
"This is better!"
Vince became animated again.
"You're different."
He pointed at Sven.
"You're the savage."
Sven smiled.
"Thank you."
"The carnal one."
"Even better."
"You're completely uninhibited."
"Obviously."
Vince turned toward Lars.
"…and you're..."
Lars waited.
Vince stared at him.
"...the one who talks."
Lars stared back.
"That's my thing?"
"Yes!"
Sven laughed.
Vince ignored him.
"This fixes everything."
He walked between the chairs, already constructing the shot
in his head.
"Sven doesn't need to say much."
Sven shrugged.
"I can do that."
"Exactly!"
Vince pointed at him.
"You just sit there and be as savage and carnal as
possible."
Sven nodded seriously.
"I have trained my entire life for this."
One of the women laughed.
Lars didn't.
Vince turned toward him.
"You deliver most of the lines."
"Why?"
"Because Sven can't deliver dialogue while
doing..."
Vince looked toward Sven's chair.
"...all that."
Sven nodded.
"Fair."
"…and if you were both doing it, we'd have to keep
cutting back and forth."
Vince moved his hands as though framing imaginary camera
shots.
"This way, Sven's the visual."
He pointed toward Lars.
"You're the voice."
Then Sven.
"He's appetite."
Then Lars.
"You're menace."
Lars looked toward the woman beside him.
"So she's just hugging me?"
"Yes."
"…and smiling."
Vince looked at her.
"Can you smile at the camera?"
She immediately gave him an exaggerated seductive smile.
Vince pointed excitedly.
"That!"
Lars sighed.
The woman laughed and slipped an arm around his waist.
"Don't worry. I'll behave."
"Thank you."
Sven looked offended.
"What about mine?"
His partner grinned.
"No promises."
"Excellent."
Vince clapped his hands.
"There!"
He looked around at everyone.
"Now we've got something."
Lars still wasn't entirely convinced.
There was still a woman draped around him.
There was still Sven beside him doing something Lars really
didn't want to imagine Sarah watching.
There was still the entire premise of The Northmen
being built around violence, conquest, women and excess.
…but...
He could live with this.
Probably.
At least when Sarah saw it, Lars wouldn't be pretending to
repeat the exact betrayal that had already blown their marriage apart.
That mattered.
Maybe she wouldn't care.
Maybe she'd hate the entire thing anyway.
Maybe she'd think Lars was using his wrestling character to
turn what he'd done into entertainment.
He didn't know.
He didn't know much of anything where Sarah was concerned
anymore.
…but this was better.
Far better.
Vince was already talking to the camera crew.
Lars looked toward Sven.
Sven smiled.
"You okay?"
Lars nodded.
"Yeah."
Sven studied him.
"You sure?"
Lars looked toward Vince.
The biggest push of their careers was apparently still
alive.
Then toward the chair.
Then toward the woman beside him.
"Better than five minutes ago."
Sven nodded.
"Fair."
Vince turned back toward them.
"Okay!"
Everyone looked at him.
Vince pointed toward the two chairs.
"Let's figure out the blocking."
Lars exhaled.
Not perfect.
Not comfortable.
…but acceptable.
For now.
…and considering the week Lars Eriksson had been having...
Acceptable was a victory.
The second vignette required considerably less preparation
than the first.
Two chairs had been planted in the sand.
That was essentially the set.
No longship.
No army of disposable beachgoers.
No director quietly wondering how many shields Vince McGeady
intended to lose in the Mediterranean before someone finally told him to stop.
Just Lars and Sven sitting side by side, each with a woman
draped over him.
For Lars, the revised arrangement was exactly what Vince had
promised. His partner sat sideways across his lap, one arm around his
shoulders, occasionally running her fingers through his hair or across his
chest. It was intimate enough to communicate the point without forcing Lars to
do anything he had already refused to do.
Sven had no such restrictions.
Vince had told Sven to be "as savage and carnal as
possible."
Sven had apparently interpreted this as a personal
challenge.
"Quiet!"
The beach fell silent.
The camera started.
Lars stared directly into the lens.
His partner rested her head against his shoulder.
Beside him-
"Ohhh- SVEN!"
Lars' eyes flicked sideways.
Sven's partner was making absolutely certain nobody within
three kilometres could misunderstand what they were supposed to be simulating.
Lars somehow maintained his expression.
"We are the Northmen."
Sven's chair creaked loudly.
Lars continued.
"We have crossed the sea for one reason."
His partner slowly caressed his beard.
"We have come to conquer."
Sven grunted.
"To pillage."
Another enthusiastic cry came from beside him.
Lars paused.
Then slowly turned his head.
The camera followed his gaze.
Sven grinned toward the lens while his partner clung
enthusiastically to him.
Lars looked back toward the camera.
"…and to seduce."
His partner smiled.
Lars could already imagine Sarah watching this.
He pushed the thought away.
"We are dangerous men."
His partner leaned closer against him.
"…but more importantly..."
Lars' voice hardened.
"We're men."
Sven finally quieted enough to listen.
"The world has gotten comfortable. Soft. Everybody
talks. Everybody complains. Everybody tells everybody else what they're
supposed to be."
Lars leaned slightly toward the camera.
"We're not here to talk about what men should be."
A smile appeared beneath his beard.
"We're here to show the world what real men can do."
"HEY!"
Lars looked toward the voice.
Two men marched into frame.
Sven stopped.
His partner looked over her shoulder.
The first man pointed toward the women.
"What do you think you're doing with them?"
The second stepped forward.
"Those are our girlfriends!"
Lars looked at his partner.
Then toward Sven's.
Then back at the men.
He seemed genuinely confused by the problem.
"Your girlfriends?"
"Yes!"
The first man held out his hand.
"Come on. We're leaving."
Neither woman moved.
The second man tried.
"Come on!"
Sven's partner merely tightened her arms around him.
Sven smiled.
Lars' partner remained comfortably across his lap.
Lars looked toward the men.
"I don't think they're interested."
The first man's face hardened.
"They're our women."
Lars' expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
"They were."
The two men stared at him.
Lars slowly stood.
His partner slid from his lap and remained beside him.
Sven rose as well.
Lars stepped forward.
"They want men."
He looked the first man up and down.
"Not boys."
That did it.
The first man shoved Lars.
The women immediately retreated behind the chairs.
Lars barely moved.
The man shoved him again.
Lars looked down at the hand against his chest.
Then up at him.
The man swung.
Lars blocked it.
…and the vignette abruptly stopped being about seduction.
Lars drove the man backward with a forearm.
Sven caught the second one charging toward him and hurled
him into the sand.
The first scrambled back toward Lars.
Lars grabbed him.
Lifted him.
…and slammed him down.
The second man had barely regained his feet before Sven
crashed into him.
The entire fight lasted perhaps twenty seconds before it
became obvious that calling it a fight was generous.
The two men had challenged the Northmen.
The Northmen were destroying them.
Sven threw his opponent toward Lars.
Lars caught him.
The two moved together instinctively.
Lars hoisted the man into position.
Sven charged.
BOOM.
The man crashed into the sand.
Vince watched from behind the camera.
His eyes widened.
"Again!"
The cameras kept rolling.
Lars grabbed the other man.
Up he went.
Sven backed away.
Then charged.
BOOM.
The second man hit the sand beside the first.
Silence.
Lars looked down at them.
Sven stood beside him.
Behind the chairs, the women cautiously emerged.
Vince gestured frantically from behind the camera.
Lars understood.
He stepped over the fallen men.
Sven joined him.
They stood shoulder to shoulder.
Then both folded their arms.
Lars stared directly into the camera.
Sven did the same.
No smiles.
No jokes.
No celebration.
Just two enormous men standing over the people who had been
foolish enough to challenge them.
The camera held the image.
Five seconds.
Ten.
"Cut!"
Sven immediately unfolded his arms.
"That was fun."
One of the men lying in the sand raised a hand.
"Can somebody help me up?"
Lars reached down and pulled him to his feet.
Vince wasn't listening.
He was staring at the monitor.
Then he looked toward Lars and Sven.
"What was that?"
Lars frowned.
"What?"
"That thing."
"What thing?"
"The finish!"
Sven shrugged.
"We've done it before."
Vince pointed excitedly at the screen.
"Lars picks him up. Sven comes flying in. Bang!"
"Yeah."
Vince stared at them.
"What's it called?"
Lars and Sven looked at each other.
Sven shrugged.
"Nothing."
Vince blinked.
"You don't have a name for it?"
"No."
Vince looked genuinely offended.
"You have a move like that and you don't have a
name for it?"
Lars sighed.
"We never needed one."
Vince turned back toward the monitor.
The replay showed Lars lifting the first man.
Sven charging.
Impact.
Vince watched it again.
…and again.
Then looked toward the Northmen.
"We're naming that."
Lars rubbed his beard.
"Of course we are."
Vince ignored him.
He replayed the move once more.
Two Viking raiders.
One devastating strike.
Something involving Thor, obviously.
Something involving the hammer.
Vince narrowed his eyes.
He didn't have it yet.
…but he would.
…and Lars suspected that whatever Vince eventually called
it, he would probably pronounce it wrong.
Vince stood over the monitor, watching the finish again.
Lars lifted the man.
Sven charged.
Impact.
The unfortunate local wrestler disappeared into the sand.
Vince pointed at the screen.
"Thor's Hammer."
Sven looked up from the catering table.
"What?"
"That's what we're calling it."
Sven stared at him.
"Thor's Hammer?"
"Yes."
"Thor's hammer has a name."
Vince turned.
"It does?"
"Mjölnir."
Vince stared at him.
"What?"
"Mjölnir."
"Muh-yol-neer?"
"No."
"Mee-yol-nir?"
"No."
"Mijolnir?"
Sven sighed.
"Closer."
Vince's face lit up.
"That's better!"
"What?"
"Mjol... Mijol... whatever you said."
"Mjölnir."
"That's the name."
Sven laughed.
"You can't even pronounce it."
"I don't care."
Vince pointed enthusiastically toward the monitor.
"It's Norse enough and the people will get it
eventually even if I don't!"
…and with that, Vince walked away looking like he'd just won
the lottery.
Sven watched him go.
"He'll never say it correctly."
Lars shrugged.
"Neither will half the announcers."
"Fair."
More food arrived from catering.
That immediately ended Sven's interest in linguistics.
"Oh."
He walked toward it.
Lars watched him.
"You ate twenty minutes ago."
"I'm an athlete."
"That's not an explanation."
"It is to me."
Sven began investigating the newly arrived trays.
Lars shook his head.
Then felt arms suddenly wrap around him.
He stiffened.
"What-"
A woman hugged him.
Tightly.
Lars recognized her immediately.
Sven's filming partner.
She was still wearing essentially nothing, which made the
unexpected embrace considerably stranger.
Lars held his arms awkwardly away from her.
"Uh..."
"It's okay."
She didn't let go.
Lars glanced around.
Sven was too busy with catering to notice.
Vince was talking excitedly to somebody about Mjolner.
Or Mijolnar.
Or whatever pronunciation Vince had currently settled upon.
Lars finally, cautiously, put his arms around the woman.
She squeezed him.
Not seductively.
Not playfully.
Just...
Warmly.
Eventually she pulled back.
Lars stared at her.
"What was that for?"
She smiled.
"Because I think you needed one."
Lars blinked.
That wasn't the answer he'd expected.
She folded her arms.
"I heard what you were saying before we filmed."
Lars' expression changed.
"About Sarah."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry."
Lars looked away.
"Yeah."
"No."
She shook her head.
"I mean I'm sorry you're going through it."
Now Lars looked genuinely confused.
"You're sorry for me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The woman laughed softly.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Lars stared at her.
"Have you met anybody lately?"
She smiled.
"Fair."
Lars rubbed his beard.
"Most people seem to want to kill me."
"I noticed."
"Especially women."
"I noticed that too."
"So..."
He gestured toward her.
"...this is different."
The woman nodded.
"I suppose."
She held out her hand.
"Catherine Levesque."
Lars shook it.
"Lars."
"I know."
"Right."
"Catherine?"
"Kitty."
Lars frowned.
"Kitty?"
"Kitty von Darque."
That registered.
Lars stared at her.
"Wait."
Catherine smiled.
"You know me?"
"I know the name."
"That's something."
"Paris?"
"Born and raised."
Lars studied her more carefully now.
Freckled.
Blonde.
French accent he'd barely noticed during filming because
she'd spent most of the vignette making sounds rather than delivering dialogue.
"You wrestle."
"Independent circuit."
"I've heard of you."
"Hopefully good things."
Lars hesitated.
Catherine laughed.
"Don't answer."
"Probably safer."
She sat on one of the chairs from the vignette.
Lars remained standing.
Then Catherine's smile faded.
"I was married."
Lars looked at her.
"Was?"
She nodded.
"To another wrestler."
Lars could already sense where this was going.
"We had children."
Catherine looked toward the water.
"…and I was stupid."
Lars said nothing.
"I cheated on him."
There it was.
Catherine shrugged, but there wasn't anything casual about
it.
"I had my reasons."
She looked back toward Lars.
"They were even very convincing reasons when I told
them to myself."
Lars slowly sat in the other chair.
"Yeah."
"You understand?"
"Unfortunately."
Catherine nodded.
"My husband didn't."
"Or maybe he did."
She thought.
"Maybe he simply didn't care."
Her eyes dropped.
"He took the children and left."
Lars' stomach tightened.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
Catherine looked toward him.
"I lost my family."
Pause.
"…and then I lost my job."
Lars frowned.
"You were fired?"
"Almost immediately."
"Because you cheated?"
"Because it became public."
She shrugged.
"The promotion didn't want the scandal."
Lars stared toward the sand.
There was an obvious comparison sitting between them.
Catherine saw him make it.
"No."
Lars looked up.
"No what?"
"I'm not angry at you."
"You got fired."
"Yes."
"I got..."
Lars gestured around them.
The cameras.
The set.
Vince McGeady.
The ridiculous amount of money being spent launching the
Northmen.
"...this."
"Yes."
"That's messed up."
Catherine gave a small shrug.
"It is."
"…and you're not angry?"
"At you?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"Why would I be?"
Lars didn't have an answer.
Catherine continued.
"You didn't fire me."
"No."
"You didn't create the double standard."
"No."
"You didn't tell Vince McGeady to look at your scandal
and see money."
Lars almost laughed.
"No."
"Then why should I hate you because somebody treated
you differently than somebody treated me?"
Lars considered that.
Catherine leaned toward him.
"Besides..."
She studied him.
"I don't think you're a bad man."
Lars laughed bitterly.
"You may be in the minority."
"Maybe."
"You barely know me."
"I know."
"Then how do you know I'm a good man?"
"I don't."
Lars looked at her.
Catherine smiled.
"…but I know what it's like to make one terrible
decision and suddenly have everybody decide that one decision explains
everything you've ever been."
That silenced him.
"I was stupid," Catherine said. "I hurt
people I loved. I hurt my children. I hurt my husband."
Her voice softened.
"I have to live with that."
She pointed gently toward Lars.
"So do you."
Lars nodded.
"…but making a terrible mistake doesn't mean every good
thing you ever did before it was fake."
Lars looked away.
For some reason, hearing sympathy was harder than hearing
the anger.
He'd been preparing himself for anger.
Anger he could fight.
Anger he could dismiss.
Some stranger at a hotel telling him Sarah deserved better?
Lars could tell him to screw off.
This...
He didn't know what to do with this.
Catherine stood.
Then walked toward him.
"Come here."
Lars looked up.
"What?"
"Come here."
He stood.
Catherine wrapped her arms around him again.
This time Lars didn't hesitate.
He hugged her back.
Tightly.
Catherine rested her cheek against his shoulder.
"If you need somebody to talk to..."
Lars closed his eyes.
"...call me."
"You barely know me."
"Then we'll fix that."
Lars laughed softly.
Catherine pulled back.
"I'm serious."
"I know."
"I've been where you are."
"Not exactly."
"No."
She nodded.
"…but close enough."
Lars looked at her.
"Thank you."
Catherine smiled.
"You're welcome."
Then she hugged him once more.
Lars returned it.
Across the beach, Sven looked up from a plate piled to
structurally questionable heights.
He saw them.
Raised an eyebrow.
Then continued eating.
For once...
There wasn't anything to make a joke about.
Lars just stood there holding Catherine.
A stranger, more or less.
A woman who had made her own terrible mistake.
A woman who had paid dearly for it.
A woman who, unlike so many people Lars had encountered over
the past few days, wasn't interested in deciding whether he deserved
punishment.
She simply understood.
…and right now...
Lars desperately needed someone who understood.