The Connection

The flight from Vegas to Chicago wasn't a direct flight. He should have known that cheap prick Barry wouldn't have booked something that expensive. There was a two-hour layover in Georgia, of all places. He'd been here before, years ago, wrestling during his brief stint in one of those fly by night federations. He didn't remember the name of it any more than he could recall his opponent from that fight that got raided at the Gold Spike.

Some things just didn't matter to him.

It was time to move on, and stop dwelling on that sad-assed story.

When you realize the story you're telling is just words, it's pretty easy to crumple up the page and torch the remains. Starting over.



December twenty-first. It was early morning, or late night depending on your perspective on such things. He was sitting in the middle of a deserted airport lounge, counting the minutes towards five AM, and wondering why in the hell people flew at this time of night. He'd been aware of the petite girl with the tear tracks on her face as soon as she'd sat down. He figured she hadn't noticed him sitting here like some statue, because she was muttering to herself while she mashed buttons on her cell phone. She looked heartbroken.

Heartbroken would be putting it lightly. Taylor was devastated by her break-up with Mark; she couldn't understand what had happened. She didn't see clingy and possessive, she saw that she was defending her relationship. She was off and on Twitter for awhile, talking to Mark, who'd made it clear that they were done. She'd since signed off, put it away, to keep herself from saying something she'd regret. Shaking her head, she looked out the window at the darkness, waiting for her flight. She never even noticed the man who'd been watching her since she sat down.

She was in her own little world, frowning, with her head in her hands. Sighing quietly, she felt her chin quiver before her vision blurred with tears again. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood as she tried to keep herself from falling to pieces all over again.

When the man spoke, his voice was so quiet that she nearly didn't hear him. "You ok, Miss?"

It brought her from her reverie and made her look over at him, "hmmm?" It took her a moment to process what he'd asked then she said, "oh, sorry. I just... broke up with my boyfriend; I'm heading home to Pennsylvania."

He nodded, not bothering to say anything further as he fixed those sorrowful brown eyes on her, chewing on his lower lip, and the ring that pierced it. After several minutes, he cleared his throat and held out a couple crumpled tissues that he'd pulled out of his pocket. "S'not the best time of year for breakin' up." He commented in that same low voice, looking around at all the Christmas decorations.

She nodded, "yeah." She took a deep breath and steadied her voice, "at least I have my baby girl to look forward to when I get home. And when my brother comes home from this tour he's on with his band, I'll have my family together."

The guy nodded, "family's nice," he looked off into the distance and sighed softly to himself, giving her a moment to study him in profile. He wasn't bad looking with his spiked black hair while the earrings and eyebrow ring set him apart from being just another ordinary face in the crowd. "I'm just runnin'. Got a job lined up once I get back to Chicago."

"Chicago?" She mused, "I've only been there once, when I was running around with my brother's band and the guy I was dating at the time." She smiled some, "It's a nice place, at least I like it." Tilting her head, she looked him over and asked, "do you have a name?"

"Yeah," he nodded, but didn't offer it. Instead he cocked his head to look at her. "Runnin' round with a band, huh? You a groupie or someth'n'?"

"For the most part, I was," she told him, honestly, "been friends with all them since the time I could walk, and started... um... doing other things with them when I turned about 15. Just kinda stuck with it." She shrugged, it was the most natural thing in the world to her, "hell, on the band's website, my user tag is 'The Original Groupie'. For me, it was a matter of being close to them, not being slutty. However, those girls who wish they could have them like to call me one."

"Could be worse. Y'could be a criminal, or a used-ta-be wrestler." He scoffed at the words, falling back into that introspective silence that seemed to define him. She couldn't figure out if he was just weird or shy. Maybe it was both, but at least he was listening to her.

She sighed, and then kept right on talking, feeling encouraged by the way he looked at her. "The lead singer, my latest ex, is... or was... I'm not sure. I know he does this underground thing," she shrugged, "I'm not sure about a lot of it, I just hate that he does it. One of the guys actually came to the house and threatened me."

"No shit?" He looked surprised to hear that. It must be a small world after all. "I used ta dabble in that. Not so glamorous as travelin' the country an' rockin' out."

"Eh, I don't know, I've met lots of interesting people that way; wrestling tends to be a little less crazy than when he performs." She shrugged, "more guys, less crazy teenage girls who think they're 25."

"Yeah, suppose you're prob'ly right." He shrugged, "just hate bein' the center of attention is all." He went quiet again, twisting the silver skull ring on his finger with his thumb. "Name's Lex," he said, as if she'd finally earned that level of trust. "Just them three letters."

"Taylor," she replied, hold out her hand to shake his, "friends and family call me TK."

"Nice t'meet ya." He said with a shy smile, shaking her hand firmly.

She smiled shyly in return, and shook his hand, taking a deep breath in, "I didn't mean to just blurt out a bunch of that shit. Sorry. You must think I'm a total-"

He cut her off. "Nah," he replied, shrugging, "listenin's somethin' I'm good at. 'Sides, think you needed that."

She shrugged softly, "I've been tagging along with a band since I was 12, for the most part. I always listened, I was their confidant, the one they ran to with all their problems, I'm kinda used to just keeping things in."

"Preachin' to the choir," Lex nodded his head, "sometimes it's best to keep them demons inside your head, y'know?" He moved to his feet slowly, stretching out his legs before moving to the chair closest to hers. "Least you ain't cryin' no more."

She smiled a little and blushed, "yeah, I'm sure I would have just gone home and gotten over it at some point." She gazed up and over at him, studying his features for a moment before she asked, "where you from anyways? You don't talk like you're from where you're heading."

"I'm from everywhere," he answered with a smile, "ain't got no real place. Been movin' since I was old enough t'do it. Guess I'm used ta callin' Chi-town home 'cause it felt like it was for 'bout five years."

She joked some, feeling the need to be like Mark, "could always come to Pennsylvania, if you're lookin' for a place to call home."

He cocked his head, looking a little shocked at the words, even if they were a joke. "An' I think maybe I need ta know ya better before we start talkin' 'bout co-habitation." His smile was still easy, although a bit guarded.

"Well duh," she laughed, the first genuine one since earlier in the night, "I didn't mean MY home, I still live with my parents."

"Just fuckin' with ya," he reached out and patted her on the knee, a gesture that was almost awkward for how hesitant it was.

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked down at the floor; she could feel the tension, the awkwardness. It kept her quiet, clearing her throat, as she waited for an announcement or a girlfriend to show up, something to ease it.

"You're a cool chick, TK." He said finally, breaking the tense silence as he withdrew his hand. "I'd offer to buy you a drink or somethin' but..." he shrugged, "ain't got nothin' in my pockets but the ticket." That was a lie. He still had that couple hundred, but it was spoken for.

She glanced over, "then how about I buy you one?" She shrugged, "not that I like broadcasting it, but I'm usually not broke. Do you want a drink? At," she glanced at her watch, "4AM?"

"Answer to that's never gonna be a no." He looked around the airport, "y'think they still serve at this time of night... day..?"

She shrugged, "I dunno, but wandering around to find out beats sitting here waiting for a plane that keeps getting delayed for one reason or another."

"Alright." He moved to his feet again, and held out his hand to her. "Then we'll walk."

She accepted his hand and stood, smiling up at him before they headed away from the boarding area to find something to drink. He didn't release her hand, and she didn't mind as they fell into step together.