Chronicle 15
The first few days in Cleveland had gone surprisingly well.
The girls had unpacked.
They'd each claimed one side of the spare bedroom.
Joanna had started the mountain of paperwork required to
register them for school.
There had been grocery trips, furniture shopping, bus routes
to learn, and more phone calls than Joanna cared to count.
It wasn't perfect.
...but it was progress.
Then reality arrived.
Joanna owned a shaggy dog named Fido.
She'd always thought owning a dog was good preparation for
children.
It wasn't.
Fido never cared what she watched on television.
Phoebe did.
"...That doesn't make sense."
Joanna looked over from the couch.
"What doesn't?"
"The detective."
"What about him?"
"He already knew who did it."
"He didn't."
"He did."
"No, he-"
"He literally looked at the camera."
"He looked at the crime scene."
"No. He looked dramatically into the distance."
Joanna sighed.
"It wasn't dramatic."
"It was very dramatic."
From the kitchen came music.
Loud music.
Very loud music.
Joanna leaned around the corner.
"Armintie?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you turn it down a little?"
"Oh! Sorry!"
The volume dropped.
Joanna smiled.
Thirty seconds later...
"...TURN THE BEAT AROUND-"
"Armintie."
"Oops."
The microwave beeped.
The washing machine buzzed.
Her phone vibrated.
Another email.
School Registration Reminder
She sighed.
She'd almost forgotten another form.
Dinner didn't help.
"I don't like mushrooms."
Phoebe gently pushed them aside.
Armintie frowned.
"I don't like onions."
"They're tiny."
"I can still taste them."
Joanna looked down.
"I spent twenty minutes making this."
"We're eating it," Phoebe said quickly.
"Just...without mushrooms."
"...and onions," Armintie added.
Later that evening Joanna finally settled onto the couch.
Blanket.
Favourite drink.
Favourite television show.
Forty-five uninterrupted minutes.
That was all she wanted.
Phoebe sat beside her.
Within three minutes...
"...Why doesn't she just call the police?"
"Because then there wouldn't be a show."
"...but that's stupid."
"A little."
"So why are we watching it?"
"Because it's fun."
Armintie wandered in.
"Can I put music on?"
"I'm watching something."
"I'll keep it quiet."
She did.
For almost a minute.
Joanna's phone buzzed again.
She ignored it.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Curiosity finally won.
She opened her banking app.
Her smile disappeared.
The credit card statement had arrived.
Hotel.
Phones.
Phone cases.
Solar charger.
Television.
Streaming box.
Groceries.
Clothes.
School supplies.
Everything.
She wasn't in trouble.
Not even close.
...but seeing the total all at once made her stomach
tighten.
She locked the phone and stared blankly at the television.
Armintie sat down.
"So..."
Joanna looked up.
"So?"
"Can we maybe get another TV?"
Joanna blinked.
"What?"
"There's only one."
Phoebe nodded.
"Sometimes our shows are on when yours are."
"...and not everything streams," Armintie added.
"We thought maybe..."
Joanna closed her eyes.
Not now.
Please.
Not now.
"...Do you girls have any idea how much I've spent
these past two weeks?"
The room fell silent.
"I've bought phones."
"I've bought chargers."
"I've bought clothes."
"I've bought groceries."
"I'm trying to get you into school."
"I'm trying to get back to work."
"I'm trying to remember to pay bills."
"I'm trying to..."
She stopped.
Neither girl moved.
Joanna took a breath.
Then another.
"...My life..."
Her voice cracked.
"...was so much easier before..."
No.
Don't say it.
"...before you girls came."
Silence.
Phoebe slowly reached for the remote.
She turned the television off.
Armintie's eyes filled instantly.
Neither girl shouted.
Neither argued.
They simply stood.
"Phoebe..."
She didn't answer.
"Armintie..."
Still nothing.
Together they quietly walked into their bedroom.
The door closed.
Another click.
The lock.
Joanna remained frozen.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Twenty.
She buried her face in her hands.
"...What did I just do?"
She knocked softly.
"Girls?"
Nothing.
"I'm sorry."
Nothing.
"I didn't mean..."
Still nothing.
She looked at the closed bedroom door one last time before
walking to the kitchen.
There was only one person she wanted to talk to.
She picked up the satellite phone.
After several rings...
"...Hello?"
Zas sounded exhausted.
"Did I wake you?"
"A little."
"I'm sorry."
"What happened?"
Joanna laughed weakly.
"I think I just became the worst mother in the
world."
There was a long pause.
"I doubt that."
"I told them..."
Her voice trembled.
"...that life was easier before they came."
Another silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just thoughtful.
Finally...
"When Phoebe was five..."
Joanna smiled despite herself.
"...she cried because I cut her bread into
squares."
"What?"
"She wanted triangles."
Joanna laughed.
"You made her cry over bread?"
"No."
Zas' voice remained calm.
"I thought I was angry about bread."
"...You weren't?"
"I was tired."
Joanna leaned against the counter.
"I had been awake most of the night."
"I had patrol."
"The horses escaped."
"A roof leaked."
"The Elder wanted reports."
"I had not eaten."
"So..."
"I exploded."
"...Over bread."
Joanna couldn't help smiling.
"So what do I do?"
"The same thing I eventually did."
"...and what's that?"
"Apologize."
"I already tried."
"Then apologize again."
"I don't know if they'll forgive me."
"They may not."
His answer surprised her.
"Not today."
"Perhaps not tomorrow."
"...but if you mean it..."
"They will remember that more than your mistake."
Joanna wiped her eyes.
"I miss you."
"I miss you too."
"I wish you were here."
"So do I."
He hesitated.
"Joanna?"
"Yeah?"
"You called yourself the worst mother in the
world."
"I did."
"You know what I heard?"
"What?"
"A mother."
Joanna smiled through fresh tears.
"Thank you."
"Now..."
Zas said gently.
"...go knock again."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see her.
"I will."
Joanna stood outside the bedroom door for nearly a minute
before raising her hand again.
Three gentle knocks.
"...Girls?"
Silence.
"I know you're awake."
Another long pause.
Finally...
"...Come in."
Phoebe's voice was quiet.
Joanna slowly opened the door.
The room already looked lived in.
Phoebe sat cross-legged on her bed.
Armintie sat opposite her.
Between them lay half-unpacked boxes and a growing
collection of souvenirs from Daral Lake.
Fido wandered in behind Joanna, sniffed the room, then
promptly jumped onto Phoebe's bed and curled up beside her.
Armintie folded her arms.
"Even the dog picked a side."
Phoebe couldn't quite suppress the tiny smile.
Joanna managed one herself.
"I think he's just smarter than I am."
No one laughed.
Joanna closed the door and quietly pulled over the desk
chair instead of sitting beside either girl.
She wasn't there to invade their space.
She was there to earn her way back into it.
The girls looked at her.
Not angry anymore.
Just...
Hurt.
Phoebe finally spoke.
"...You know what you said, right?"
Joanna nodded immediately.
"Every word."
"I can't believe I said it."
She stared at the carpet.
"I've replayed it about a hundred times already."
Another silence settled over the room.
"I honestly thought..." Joanna sighed. "I
honestly believed having Fido prepared me for being a parent."
Armintie glanced down at the sleeping dog.
"I was wrong."
"I thought I knew what I was getting into."
"I didn't."
"I've never had to think about school
registration."
"I've never had to think about feeding three
people."
"I've never had to remember to shut my bedroom door
before changing."
Phoebe gave the faintest nod.
"I've never had to wonder if someone else wanted the
television."
Joanna smiled weakly.
"I've never had two people asking me questions every
five minutes."
Armintie quietly muttered,
"You still don't know why the detective looked at the
camera."
Phoebe nudged her with a pillow.
"Armintie."
"...Sorry."
Even Joanna laughed softly.
The tension eased just enough.
Joanna became serious again.
"...but..."
She looked from one girl to the other.
"Those are explanations."
"They're not excuses."
"What I said..."
"...was wrong."
"There wasn't a good reason for saying it."
"I don't care how overwhelmed I felt."
"I hurt both of you."
"...and I'm sorry."
The room became quiet again.
This time it felt different.
Phoebe looked at Armintie.
Armintie looked back.
Then Phoebe spoke.
"We haven't exactly made things easy either."
Joanna blinked.
"What?"
"We're learning too."
Armintie nodded.
"We've never had a mom before."
"We've never lived in a city."
"We've never shared a condo."
"We've never had neighbours."
"We've never even had to think about television
schedules."
Phoebe smiled.
"...and..."
"...I probably don't need to point out every plot hole
in every show."
"You really don't."
"...and maybe..." Armintie admitted, "...I
don't need to play music loud enough for everyone in Cleveland to hear."
"You definitely don't."
The three of them laughed.
A real laugh.
Joanna shook her head.
"You two are beautiful angels."
Both girls stared at her.
Phoebe raised an eyebrow.
"Beautiful..."
Armintie smiled.
"...Maybe."
"Angels?"
They both burst out laughing.
"I remember Daral Lake," Phoebe said.
"So do I," Armintie agreed.
Joanna pointed accusingly.
"Don't ruin my apology."
"Sorry."
"No, you're not."
"...No."
Another round of laughter filled the room.
Phoebe eventually wiped her eyes.
"There is one thing."
"What?"
"The television."
Joanna nodded.
"I know."
"I can't afford another one right now."
"We know," Phoebe said.
"We saw your face."
Armintie nodded.
"We're not stupid."
Joanna smiled sheepishly.
"I wasn't trying to hide it very well."
Phoebe thought for a moment.
"What if..."
"...we just make a schedule?"
"For the shows that aren't streaming."
"...and if something is streaming..." Armintie
added, "...we can watch it later."
Joanna nodded.
"That sounds fair."
"...and..."
She looked at both girls.
"When things settle down..."
"I promise."
"We'll get another television."
Neither girl answered.
Instead...
Phoebe stood first.
Then Armintie.
The three quietly met in the middle of the room.
It wasn't a dramatic embrace.
It was simply three people holding onto one another for a
little longer than usual.
After a moment, Armintie spoke into Joanna's shoulder.
"...You don't snore."
Joanna frowned.
"What?"
"Dad does."
"So does Arel-Sin."
Phoebe nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh, they're terrible."
Joanna grinned.
"I'll remember that the next time I talk to Zas."
The girls laughed.
Somewhere beneath them, Fido barked once in protest at being
left out.
Joanna looked down.
"Oh."
She crouched beside him.
"I owe somebody an apology too."
Fido wagged his tail.
"You had to listen to all of us."
He immediately rolled onto his back for a belly rub.
Armintie smiled.
"...I think he forgave you first."
Joanna scratched behind his ears.
"I don't deserve dogs."
Phoebe smiled.
"No."
"...but maybe..."
"...you're doing okay with daughters."
"Hey, stranger."
The familiar voice echoed through the communal hall.
Zas looked up from the table where he was sorting supplies.
His face immediately softened.
"Eve."
Arel-Sin looked up too.
"Eve!"
He practically sprinted across the hall before throwing his
arms around her.
She laughed as she hugged him back.
"My goodness."
"You've grown again."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
"No."
"Then I must be shrinking."
Arel-Sin considered this very seriously.
"...Maybe."
She laughed again before ruffling his hair.
Eve looked much as she always had.
Long blonde hair tied loosely behind her shoulders.
Bright blue eyes.
Dimples that seemed to appear almost every time she
smiled—which was often.
Her clothing was simple even by Blue Shield standards, and
around her neck hung a carved wooden pendant she had made herself years
earlier.
She carried herself with a quiet confidence that many
mistook for something supernatural.
Some insisted she could predict the future.
Eve usually answered the rumours the same way.
"I only look like a prophetess."
"I'm not one."
She finally turned back to Zas and hugged him.
"It's good to see you."
"...and you."
"I heard you'd returned."
"I came back yesterday."
"How was the retreat?"
She smiled.
"Peaceful."
"Cold."
"A little lonely."
"So..."
"...exactly what I was looking for."
Zas chuckled.
"That sounds like you."
"...and you?"
He smiled.
"Much less peaceful."
"So I've heard."
She leaned against one of the hall's wooden pillars.
"I've heard about the Council."
"...About Armintie."
"...About Joanna."
"I've heard pieces."
She looked at him kindly.
"I wanted to hear it from you."
So he told her.
Not every detail.
Just enough.
The search.
Karim.
The Council.
The exile.
The hospital.
Joanna.
Phoebe.
Armintie.
By the time he finished, neither of them had spoken for
several moments.
"I'm sorry the girls had to leave."
"So am I."
"...but..."
She smiled gently.
"...I'm happy they found a home."
Zas nodded.
"So am I."
"They're safe."
"I can live with missing them if it means they're
safe."
Eve studied him for a moment.
"You love her."
Zas blinked.
"...Was I that obvious?"
"You've smiled more in the last five minutes than you
used to smile in a month."
He looked away, slightly embarrassed.
"...Perhaps."
She laughed softly.
"So..."
"This Joanna."
"What is it she actually does?"
Zas sighed.
"I am still trying to understand that myself."
"I know she wrestles."
"...but..."
He searched for the words.
"I think..."
"...the best way I can describe it..."
"...is theatre."
"Theatre?"
"They are actors."
"...only instead of pretending to be kings or
farmers..."
"...they pretend to fight."
Eve nodded slowly.
"I see."
"...Although..."
Zas frowned.
"There is also quite a lot of drama."
"So perhaps they pretend to perform theatre while
pretending to fight."
Eve laughed.
"That somehow makes less sense."
"It does."
"...but I believe it is more accurate."
Arel-Sin looked up from where he had been quietly listening.
"Dad likes it now."
"I did not say that."
"You played Candy Crush too."
"I did not say that either."
Eve grinned.
"I've been away for three weeks."
"What happened to you?"
"I am asking myself the same question."
She smiled.
"Will you be watching Joanna's first match?"
"I intend to."
"So will Arel-Sin."
"I'll make popcorn," Arel-Sin announced proudly.
Eve nodded.
"You won't be alone."
"The Elder is planning a feast."
Zas raised an eyebrow.
"A feast?"
"He says if someone from our family is making such an
important debut..."
"...then we should celebrate together."
Zas smiled.
"That sounds like him."
Eve rolled her eyes affectionately.
"The Watchers have also been trying to explain
wrestling to him."
"Oh?"
"How is that going?"
She tried very hard to keep a straight face.
"...Poorly."
Zas laughed.
"They're trying."
"They are."
"The Old Watcher believes every match is a ritual
duel."
"And the Young Watcher keeps insisting there must be
secret military strategy hidden in tag-team wrestling."
Arel-Sin burst into laughter.
"What does the Elder think?"
Eve smiled.
"He hasn't understood a single word."
"...but he's listening very carefully."
Zas looked around the communal hall.
For the first time since returning from Purushapura, it felt
completely like home again.
Different.
Quieter.
Missing people he loved.
...but still home.
...and somehow...
That made Joanna seem just a little closer.
A booming voice echoed across the communal hall.
"Zas!"
The warrior looked up just as an enormous figure ducked
through the doorway.
Azamat.
He stood nearly a head taller than most of the Blue Shield.
Broad shoulders.
Powerful arms.
A bald head that reflected the afternoon sunlight.
A neatly trimmed goatee.
...and a grin that somehow made the intimidating man look
almost childlike.
"You're back."
"I never left," Azamat replied.
"You've just been hiding."
"I have been busy."
"I know."
Azamat folded his arms proudly.
"I have also been studying."
Zas immediately became suspicious.
"...Studying what?"
"Wrestling."
Arel-Sin groaned.
"Oh no."
Eve smiled knowingly.
"So that's what you've been doing with the communal
computers."
Azamat nodded enthusiastically.
"For weeks."
"I have watched matches."
"I have read articles."
"I have learned about..."
He lowered his voice dramatically.
"...Kay-fab."
Silence.
Eve blinked.
Arel-Sin looked at Zas.
Zas looked at Eve.
None of them knew whether that was correct.
"So..." Zas said carefully.
"...What is 'kay-fab'?"
Azamat beamed.
"It is when everyone pretends not to pretend."
The hall fell quiet.
"...I think," Zas admitted, "that may
actually be close."
Azamat puffed out his chest.
"I knew it."
He continued before anyone could interrupt.
"I have also learned many famous techniques."
He held up a finger.
"The Stone Cold Bottom."
Arel-Sin frowned.
"I don't think that's right."
"...and the People's Elbow Drop Kick."
Eve bit the inside of her cheek.
"...and my favourite..."
Azamat spread his arms dramatically.
"...the Super Flying Power Slam Suplex Driver."
Zas stared at him.
"That sounds..."
He searched for the right word.
"...painful."
"It is very effective."
"Have you seen it?"
"No."
"...but it sounds effective."
Eve finally laughed.
"I suppose it does."
Azamat ignored the laughter.
"I especially enjoy the Japanese wrestlers."
"Oh?"
"They can really work."
Zas nodded politely despite having no idea what that meant.
"I see."
"They hit each other."
"They throw each other."
"Sometimes they hit each other while throwing each
other."
"It is magnificent."
Arel-Sin whispered to Eve,
"I think that's just wrestling."
"I think so too."
Azamat wasn't finished.
"The one I most wish to see..."
He pointed dramatically into the distance.
"...William Goldstein."
"Goldstein?" Zas asked.
"Yes."
"He is like me."
"You've met him?"
"No."
"...but I have watched him."
"He is a great raging bull."
Azamat thumped his own chest.
"I also am a great raging bull."
"I feel..."
"...a kinship."
Zas smiled despite himself.
"I can see that."
He remembered Azamat as a young trainee.
Strong.
Fearless.
...and almost impossible to control.
Every sparring session had been fought as though the fate of
the world depended upon it.
"Do you remember," Zas asked, "how many
practice swords you broke?"
Azamat frowned.
"...Three?"
"Twelve."
"Oh."
"...and how many times I told you that strength without
discipline is merely anger?"
Azamat rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Many."
"You still become overexcited."
"I do."
"...but..."
He smiled sheepishly.
"...I think I am improving."
Zas nodded.
"You are."
"It only took you fifteen years."
"I am a fast learner."
Eve laughed.
"I don't think that sentence means what you think it
means."
"It sounded impressive."
"It did."
Arel-Sin looked up at Azamat.
"So..."
"When Sugar Cane wrestles..."
"...are you going to explain everything to us?"
Azamat straightened proudly.
"I shall."
He paused.
"...Unless I do not understand it."
Zas raised an eyebrow.
"...and how will we know the difference?"
Azamat smiled with absolute confidence.
"You won't."
Even Zas laughed.
Somewhere in Cleveland, Joanna was preparing for the biggest
match of her career.
Meanwhile, halfway around the world, the Order of the Blue
Shield had somehow acquired its very first wrestling analyst.
Whether he knew what he was talking about remained an open
question.
The following morning, Joanna drove across Cleveland toward
the WFE Imperial Academy.
Today wasn't about wrestling.
It was about becoming someone else.
Sugar Cane.
She still wasn't sure how she felt about that.
The wardrobe department occupied nearly an entire floor of
the Academy.
Rows upon rows of costumes stretched into the distance.
Cowboys.
Queens.
Aliens.
Vampires.
Superheroes.
Things Joanna couldn't even begin to identify.
Somewhere among them all...
...was Sugar Cane.
"Jo!"
A cheerful voice called across the room.
A tall, athletic man wearing a tape measure around his neck
hurried over.
His hair was perfectly styled.
His clothes somehow looked expensive without trying.
"Good to see you."
"Bork."
Joanna hugged him.
"You look exhausted."
"I have two teenagers now."
"...Ah."
He nodded sympathetically.
"That explains everything."
Bork had been the WFE's head stylist for nearly a decade.
Before that he'd worked in fashion.
Costume design.
Film.
Concert tours.
People often assumed because of his size that he was a
retired wrestler.
He wasn't.
He simply possessed the confidence of someone who knew he
was very, very good at his job.
...and Vince McGeady was notoriously demanding when it came
to appearances.
People who couldn't deliver rarely lasted.
Bork had.
That alone spoke volumes.
"So..."
He clapped his hands together.
"...let's see what Vince has done to you."
An assistant rolled out a clothing rack.
Joanna stared.
"...Oh."
Another rack appeared.
"...Oh no."
A third.
"...You're kidding."
Bork smiled nervously.
"I know."
Joanna picked up the first outfit.
It sparkled.
Barely.
The second somehow used even less fabric.
The third appeared to consist primarily of optimism.
She held it up.
"Bork."
"Yes?"
"...Where's the rest of it?"
"That's all of it."
"There has to be another piece."
"There isn't."
Joanna blinked.
"...I'm supposed to wrestle in this?"
"We can reinforce it."
"With what?"
"Hope."
She laughed despite herself.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He scratched the back of his neck.
"Look..."
"...we can tailor the design."
"We can add support."
"We can adjust the cut."
"We can make you comfortable."
He hesitated.
"...but..."
She already knew what was coming.
"What?"
"Vince really wants..."
He glanced down at his notes.
"...the Britney look."
Joanna slowly closed her eyes.
"Of course he does."
"I argued for something slightly more athletic."
"...and?"
"He likes Britney."
She sighed.
"I gathered."
Just then another voice drifted across the room.
"Yo."
Joanna turned.
A man shuffled toward them wearing tinted sunglasses
indoors.
A black fedora.
A carefully sculpted goatee that clearly took far longer to
maintain than he would ever admit.
He was astonishingly thin.
Joanna had once joked he couldn't possibly weigh more than
five stone.
Unfortunately for him...
...the nickname had stuck.
"John."
"Jo."
John Fivestone raised a USB drive triumphantly.
"Got something for you."
"The theme?"
"The very one."
Bork immediately walked toward a nearby sound system.
A few button presses later...
Music filled the room.
Bright.
Bubblegum.
Pop.
An aggressively cheerful beat with sugary vocals repeating
the words:
"Sugar... Sugar... Sugar..."
Joanna stared ahead for perhaps ten seconds.
Then quietly reached over.
Pressed stop.
Silence.
John removed his sunglasses.
"...That bad?"
Joanna looked apologetic.
"The outfits..."
She held one up.
"I can probably live with these."
Bork exhaled in relief.
"...Eventually."
"...but the music?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"I have to walk out to that every week."
"I have to hear it before every match."
"I have to associate it with everything Sugar Cane
becomes."
She smiled apologetically.
"I have to like it."
John considered that for exactly one second.
"Cool."
Joanna blinked.
"...Cool?"
"We'll figure something else out."
"...Really?"
"Yeah."
"If you hate your entrance music..."
"...the crowd probably will too."
He shrugged.
"Back to the drawing board."
Joanna felt her shoulders relax for the first time all
morning.
It wasn't a huge victory.
She was still going to become Sugar Cane.
She was still going to wear an outfit she wasn't entirely
comfortable with.
She was still stepping into a character she'd never asked
for.
...but...
She'd won something.
A small thing.
Her own voice.
As John wandered off humming entirely different melodies to
himself, Bork smiled.
"See?"
"What?"
"We're already making Sugar Cane yours."
For the first time since Vince had pitched the gimmick...
Joanna allowed herself to think that maybe...
Just maybe...
There was room inside Sugar Cane for Joanna too.
The sounds of bodies hitting the mat echoed throughout the
Imperial Academy.
Inside one of the main training rings, two wrestlers circled
one another.
Not in costume.
Not under bright lights.
Just workout shirts, athletic shorts and knee pads.
Professional wrestling looked very different without the
spectacle.
"Duck!"
Rotimi Ayodele shouted.
Dolph Wrangler dropped just in time.
Rotimi rebounded from the ropes.
Dolph caught him around the waist.
Both men tumbled safely onto the mat before immediately
rolling back to their feet.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The rhythm was almost hypnotic.
Outside the ring, Joanna leaned comfortably against the
barricade wearing a navy Cleveland Steamers hoodie.
She wasn't there to train.
She simply enjoyed watching good wrestlers work.
Rotimi spotted her first.
"Well..."
He grinned.
"...if it isn't the only Steamers fan left in
Ohio."
Joanna folded her arms.
"We won more games than Montreal."
Rotimi snorted.
"Congratulations."
"You were less disappointing."
"I'm taking that as a compliment."
"It wasn't."
Dolph climbed through the ropes, laughing.
"She's still right."
Rotimi pointed accusingly.
"Stay out of this."
"I can't."
"I'm contractually obligated to support
Cleveland."
"You're from Toronto!"
"I know."
"So why do you like Cleveland?"
Dolph shrugged.
"The Bluebirds taught me to hate Montreal."
Rotimi sighed dramatically.
"You New Englanders are exhausting."
"We're consistent."
"You people boo us before first pitch."
"You wear an Extros jersey."
"You wear a Steamers hoodie!"
"I wear it correctly."
Rotimi looked at Joanna.
"You see?"
"He always takes your side."
Joanna smiled.
"He does."
Dolph looked genuinely puzzled.
"Am I not supposed to?"
Rotimi threw his hands into the air.
"See?"
"He overcommits."
Joanna laughed.
"You really do."
Dolph thought about it.
"...I regret nothing."
Rotimi climbed out of the ring and grabbed a towel.
"So..."
"How'd the Sugar Cane fitting go?"
Joanna's smile faded.
"It happened."
"...That bad?"
She nodded.
"The outfits..."
"I'll survive."
"Bork's making them work."
"...but Vince apparently wants..."
She made air quotes.
"...'the Britney look.'"
Rotimi burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry."
"I know I shouldn't laugh."
"...but I can hear Vince saying it."
"So can I."
"...and the music?"
Joanna groaned.
"I hated it."
"What was it?"
She sang dramatically:
"'Sugar... Sugar... Sugar...'"
Rotimi visibly shuddered.
"Oh."
"Exactly."
"I told John."
"...and?"
"He said we'd find something else."
Rotimi blinked.
"...Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Well..."
He smiled.
"...that's a victory."
"A tiny one."
"...but still."
Joanna nodded.
"I'll take it."
She sat on the ring apron.
"I'm just..."
She searched for the words.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to be Sugar
Cane."
Silence settled over the gym.
Finally Rotimi spoke.
"You know..."
"I hated Voodoo Jackson."
Joanna looked up.
"I know."
"I mean..."
"I really hated it. I still do."
He leaned back against the ring.
"I'm from Benin."
"I spent three weeks trying to explain to Vince that
voodoo isn't..."
He gestured vaguely.
"...whatever this is."
He pointed toward a nearby locker where his brightly
coloured hat, fake bones and oversized beads were sitting.
"He listened."
"...and then?"
"He said the crowd would love it."
Joanna smiled.
"They did."
"They still do."
Rotimi nodded.
"Five years."
"I still don't love the gimmick."
"...but..."
He shrugged.
"I stopped fighting it."
"I figured..."
"If I'm going to do it..."
"I'm going to be the best Voodoo Jackson there
is."
Joanna listened quietly.
"I never changed Vince's idea."
Rotimi continued.
"I changed my performance."
"I found little pieces that were mine."
"The way I talk."
"The way I move."
"The jokes."
"The timing."
"The entrance."
"The crowd doesn't know."
"...but I do."
Dolph nodded.
"That's the trick."
"You don't have to become Vince's version."
"You become your version."
Joanna looked from one man to the other.
"You two make it sound easy."
"It isn't," Rotimi said immediately.
"It takes time."
Dolph smiled.
"...and occasionally therapy."
Rotimi laughed.
"Mostly therapy."
The three of them stood quietly for a moment.
Then Dolph clapped his hands together.
"Enough feelings."
He pointed toward Joanna.
"Get in here."
She frowned.
"I'm not dressed."
"I don't care."
"I just spent twenty minutes carrying Rotimi."
"I deserve to throw somebody."
Rotimi nodded enthusiastically.
"I support this idea."
Joanna rolled her eyes.
"I hate both of you."
"No you don't," Dolph replied.
"...No," Joanna admitted with a smile.
"I really don't."
Joanna reached for the hem of her hoodie.
"Fine."
She pulled it over her head and tossed it onto a nearby
chair.
Underneath she wore a navy Cleveland Steamers sports bra and
black compression shorts.
Dolph looked at her.
Then, with exaggerated seriousness, he stood up.
"Well..."
"If we're taking shirts off..."
He dramatically peeled off his own training shirt and flung
it over the top rope.
Rotimi sighed.
"You are unbelievable."
"I believe in equality."
"You believe in showing off."
"That too."
Joanna laughed.
"You two finished?"
Dolph dropped into a wrestling stance.
"Whenever you are."
They circled.
Locked up.
For a brief moment, everything felt familiar.
Then Joanna moved.
Not faster.
Cleaner.
She slipped behind Dolph before he had fully planted his
feet, transitioned smoothly into a waist lock, then released it just as quickly
to avoid forcing the drill.
Dolph turned.
Blinking.
"Huh."
Again.
This time he tried an arm drag.
Joanna floated over it.
Countered.
Reset.
Again.
Again.
Again.
There was no hesitation.
No wasted movement.
Every step flowed naturally into the next.
Rotimi quietly lowered his towel.
He had stopped drying off.
He was watching.
Five minutes became ten.
Ten became twenty.
Sweat dripped from Dolph's forehead.
Joanna was breathing harder now...
...but only just.
She wasn't slowing.
If anything...
She looked stronger.
Dolph shot for another tie-up.
Joanna redirected his momentum with a simple hip turn that
sent him stumbling two steps before catching himself.
He looked back.
"...Where did that come from?"
She only smiled.
Rotimi folded his arms.
"No..."
He muttered.
"...that's different."
It wasn't that Joanna suddenly knew new moves.
She didn't.
She was using the same fundamentals she'd always had.
...but everything landed exactly where it should.
Every grip.
Every foot placement.
Every transition.
Nothing looked forced anymore.
It all looked...
Easy.
Another fifteen minutes passed.
Finally Dolph collapsed backwards onto the canvas.
He spread his arms dramatically.
"I surrender."
Joanna walked calmly to the corner.
Unscrewed her water bottle.
Took several long drinks.
That was it.
Meanwhile Dolph lay flat on his back, chest heaving.
"I have one question."
Joanna lowered the bottle.
"What's that?"
"...Who body-snatched you?"
She laughed.
"No one."
"You weren't this good three weeks ago."
"I had some training."
Rotimi raised an eyebrow.
"From who?"
Joanna smiled.
"My big sexy mountain man."
For a second...
Silence.
Then both men burst out laughing.
"Oh!"
Dolph pointed.
"The guy from Mingora!"
"The one who accidentally stole the show!"
"I heard Triple X wanted to hire him," Rotimi
added.
"He did."
"So why didn't he?"
Joanna screwed the lid back onto her bottle.
"He already has a job."
"...Doing what?"
"Protecting his people."
"He loves his tribe."
"He wasn't interested in leaving them."
Dolph nodded thoughtfully.
"I respect that."
"So..."
Rotimi grinned.
"When's he coming to Cleveland?"
Joanna shrugged.
"Eventually."
"Good."
Dolph pushed himself back to his feet.
"I want a match."
"So do I," Rotimi agreed.
"Tell him we're challenging him."
Joanna smiled.
"Are you sure?"
Both men looked at each other.
Then simultaneously nodded.
"We can take him."
Joanna didn't argue.
She simply looked at the two very confident wrestlers.
Finished the last sip from her water bottle.
Walked over to the recycling bin.
Without looking...
She casually tossed the empty bottle over her shoulder.
It dropped cleanly through the opening with a hollow clunk.
Only then did she turn back.
"I'll let him know."
Something about the calm certainty in her voice made Dolph
glance sideways at Rotimi.
"...You don't think..."
Rotimi scratched his chin.
"...Nah."
A beat.
"...Right?"
Joanna just smiled.
She wasn't about to ruin the surprise.
Later that evening, Joanna settled onto the couch with her
phone.
This call wasn't an emergency.
Nothing had gone wrong.
She simply wanted to hear his voice.
The satellite phone rang only twice.
"Hello?"
Zas sounded much more awake this time.
"Good timing?"
"Reasonably."
"I have only just finished dinner."
"Perfect."
Joanna smiled.
"How's Daral Lake?"
"Busy."
"How's Cleveland?"
"Also busy."
"So..."
"How did Sugar Cane survive?"
Joanna groaned dramatically.
"Barely."
"Oh?"
"They fitted me for the costume."
"...and?"
"I still don't know how I'm going to make this
work."
Zas didn't hesitate.
"You will."
She smiled.
"You sound awfully confident."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because every time you have said you cannot do
something..."
"...you have eventually done it."
She laughed.
"I hate it when you're right."
"I enjoy it."
"I know you do."
She settled further into the couch.
"I miss Daral Lake."
"We miss you too."
"The village has changed."
"Oh?"
"We now possess a wrestling expert."
Joanna blinked.
"...What?"
"Azamat."
She burst out laughing before he could continue.
"What has he done?"
"He has been studying."
"For weeks."
"Using the communal computers."
"I may need to reduce his internet allowance."
"Oh dear."
"He explained..."
Zas tried very carefully.
"...'kay-fab.'"
Joanna laughed so hard she nearly dropped the phone.
"He said what?"
"'Kay-fab.'"
"It's..."
She wiped a tear from her eye.
"It's pronounced 'kay-fabe.'"
"I shall tell him."
"He'll probably ignore you."
"He usually does."
"He also mentioned..."
Zas consulted the notebook sitting beside him.
"...the Stone Cold Bottom."
Joanna snorted.
"Oh no."
"...and an..."
He frowned.
"...En-zee-gurry?"
"Enzuigiri."
"I was nowhere close."
"Not even remotely."
"He also believes there exists a manoeuvre called the
Super Flying Power Slam Suplex Driver."
Joanna laughed again.
"I'd pay money to see someone try that."
"I suspect the doctors would also benefit
financially."
She took a breath.
"So he's really into wrestling?"
"He especially enjoys the Japanese wrestlers."
"That's actually impressive."
"He says..."
Zas paused.
"...they can really work."
Joanna smiled.
"He's been doing his homework."
"We understand the mechanics."
"We simply lack the vocabulary."
"I suppose that's true."
"There are many throws I know."
"I simply call them..."
He demonstrated.
"'That throw.'"
Joanna grinned.
"Honestly?"
"That's probably easier."
"There is another wrestler he speaks about often."
"Gold..."
He frowned.
"...Goldstream?"
"Goldstein."
"Goldstein."
"He says the man reminds him of himself."
Joanna laughed knowingly.
"Oh..."
"That's dangerous."
"How so?"
"William Goldstein is an incredible athlete."
"...but..."
"...he gets excited."
"...and when he gets excited..."
"...people sometimes get hurt."
"Not intentionally."
"He's just..."
She searched for the word.
"...careless."
Zas nodded thoughtfully.
"Azamat once had the same problem."
"Really?"
"He fought as though every practice match were a
war."
"I spent years teaching him restraint."
"...and?"
"He is improving."
Joanna smiled.
"I'm glad."
"So am I."
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Then Joanna remembered.
"Oh!"
"I forgot."
"Dolph and Rotimi challenged you."
"They what?"
"They want to wrestle you."
Zas smiled.
"They are welcome."
"I'll tell them."
"They may come to the Blade."
"In fact..."
He sounded unusually confident.
"I challenge the entire roster."
"At once."
Joanna burst out laughing.
"You're kidding."
"I am not."
"You couldn't beat the whole WFE."
"I once defeated ten thousand men."
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh please."
"How else would you know?"
She opened her mouth.
Paused.
Then laughed again.
"I have absolutely no way of proving you wrong."
"I thought not."
"...but..."
She smiled.
"...I'm still calling you a liar."
"I accept this."
His voice softened.
"When do you debut?"
"Soon."
"We'll all be watching."
"The whole village?"
"The whole village."
"The Elder is preparing a feast."
Joanna shook her head, smiling to herself.
"I don't know whether to feel honoured..."
"...or terrified."
"Both are appropriate."
She laughed quietly.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Neither of them rushed to end the call.
Sometimes...
Just hearing the other person breathing on the other end of the line was enough.
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