Chapter 32 (Finite) [FLASHBACK]

darkhorseonline.net blog posting || 11-12-2016 03:45 HOURS SIN CITY

DAYS SOBER: 1007

Can't sleep. Tried, ended up tossing and turning and tangled up in sweaty sheets. The room was too hot. Opened the window. It was too cold. Took this random booking for the weekend because I wanted to be out there again.

The itch is there, always, clawing at the back of my mind and I guess I need to keep dipping a toe into the waters in stark defiance of the sands in the hourglass that are far deeper in the bottom half now. Phoenix was a bust. Lasted a few months, chasing old demons and taunting ol' Larry and his bitch boy Chauncy. We dug up the past. Paraded it out to a new set of fans – I was the villain, of course.

It ended the way it always does. Strained relations. Larry taking sides even though he wants to be Switzerland, remain neutral no matter what. He loves us both – how childish is it to remind them that he loved me first? Never requited, of course. One more booking to fulfill there in a couple weeks, and I'm free to walk away. The calendar beyond year's end is blank and that scares the shit out of me. What am I going to do with all that free time?

Stop me if you've heard this one: a hobbled piece of shit walks into a rec center, desperate for one last surge of adrenaline in his veins. There's no punchline. That's the joke.

I'm a joke.

––Jax


Las Vegas, Nevada || 11-12-2016

Lyv was literally on the edge of her seat in a booth at a Starbucks in downtown Las Vegas. In front of her sat a Pumpkin Spice Latte that had started to turn her stomach not long after she ordered it. It would most likely go undrank and thrown in the garbage on the way out. She was due to see Jax so that they could finalize the divorce. They hadn't seen each other in over a year and were meeting to provide the necessary signatures to sever their marriage along with papers detailing the custody arrangement for their son.

Her hands were grasped around her phone, trying to distract herself by any means. However, everytime the door opened, sounding a little bell, her head would pop up and quickly scan the room. When she saw it wasn't him, a small sigh would escape her lips and she wasn't sure if it was one of relief or disappointment.

A thousand things had happened in the last year. He'd blown out his knee working for a company that hadn't lasted much longer than that ill-fated gig. He'd gotten surgery to put the wheels back on, loath to upset the apple cart now that banking on fame and the decades in the godforsaken business of wrestling were the only things he had left. Still, the schedule was light enough that he had time enough to recover between, the downtime forcing him to take a long, hard look in the mirror. He hadn't been back to Vegas since Sin City had closed its doors, those moments so jumbled up in that sea of broken memories and drugged-up haze that the timeframe was unclear. He just knew it had been long enough to afford a little anonymity. The old, battered Cubs hat he had on helped, too, hiding the hair that had gone almost completely silver.

Jackson was late. For him, that was unusual. When he finally made his way over the threshold, it was past fashionable and bordering on downright rude. He saw her immediately and it added a hitch to his gait, a near-stumble that few would have noticed. He cursed himself for that, hating that even after all this time, the wound still felt fresh and raw. The chair scraped across the floor as he pulled it out and dropped into it across from her. "Hey," he sighed, keeping his voice low. His next words surprised them both, "sorry I'm late." The apology was sincere but he stopped there, offering no explanation.

"No problem." Lyv said, offering him a smile with her freshly made-up lips. "I would have ordered you something, but I wasn't sure what you'd want." That instinct to throw her arms around him was strong but she was able to control herself. "I can if you want." It was second nature to do whatever she could to make him happy, even in an awkward moment as such.

His gaze flicked to the untouched cup sitting in front of her, one dark brow quirking as though he somehow knew exactly what it was and how unappealing it had been, even when it was warm. None of that bright lipstick on the rim – pretty big clue. He could see the sticker on the cup, his eyesight good enough to pick out those letters. "Sure," he shrugged, "or I'll just drink that one if you don't want it."

"Oh, sure." Her eyes were fixed on his as she slid the cup toward him. "Help yourself." She'd expected hostility from Jax, but it wasn't there. A knot in her stomach loosened as she sat back in the booth. "Thanks for meeting me."

"I'm sure you're eager to get this over with." The words were civil enough, no bitterness there even as he picked up the cup, taking a swig. She almost expected him to grimace at the cold brew but there wasn't even a flicker of disgust on his face. When he saw she was still watching him, he chuckled. "Lukewarm's less harsh on my guts these days. Usually let it get this cold. Lemme tell you, babe… getting old sucks." The old pet name slipped out, an awkward silence falling on the heels of that. His elbow propped on the table, his left hand coming up to dig his knuckle into the corner of his eye, hiding that embarrassment behind a sudden itch – a part of him wondered if she could tell he was sober, if she still logged into the site and looked at that stupid blog he'd been keeping up over the last year, pouring all the bullshit angst and poison from his head into those password-protected pages.

"I don't think you could ever get old." Her hands were clasped on top of the table. She could never see him as old, in her eyes he was only more handsome. "How long are you in town for?"

"The weekend." He took another gulp of the cold latte because he couldn't find something else for his hands to do that wasn't some obvious tell. "Got a thing tomorrow. No big deal." He didn't elaborate, didn't bother to tell her that it was some bullshit tournament that he'd allowed himself to get roped into simply for nostalgia's sake. The things left unsaid were piling up. "Surprised to hear you moved back to this coast. Guess it tracks… further from where I was, right?" He chuckled again, just a hint of bitterness creeping in. "I know, Florida's a pile of shit. Old people. Assholes. That's all it's got."

"It never really felt like home, yanno?" Her shoulders went up in a shrug. She'd left Miami as soon as she could; the city held nothing but depression for her. "Besides, there's nothing like the Vegas Strip." She was making mindless small-talk as she reached into her bag and pulled out a stapled stack of papers along with a pen.

"Bright lights. Easier to lose yourself in the rabble here," Jackson nodded, watching her keenly. The words came out easily enough, but his mind was elsewhere, drifting back to their first trip here and how he'd proposed at one of the shittiest casinos. "I relisted the house. Had it on the market for the last six months. They say it's a seller's market right now but haven't even had a nibble. Fuckin' place is cursed, I think. Haunted, maybe. There are a few boxes of your stuff – I can ship them, if you want. Old clothes. Some stuffed animals, I think."

He didn't know it, but Lyv's mind had also focused on when he'd proposed to her. It had been one of the happiest days of her life. She would have given anything in that moment to go back and relive it. "That house has bad vibes; I feel like we should have hired a team to cleanse it of all bad energy." She'd gotten the papers out and set them down on the table. "Lesson for next time, right?"

"Sure. Note to self for the future: always bring a young priest and an old priest to any real estate viewing." The sarcasm was thick in his reply, "that's what I get for trusting one of those virtual online tours before putting in an offer." He glanced down at the papers, sighing. "How's Christian? Should've asked. Don't want you to think I've forgotten all about him – just trying to make this as painless as possible."

At Jax's mention of their son's name, Lyv's face broke out into a wide smile. "He's doing great. My friend Rick was able to pull some strings and got him in a really great Montessori preschool and he's just flourished." It was clear how much she adored the three-and-a-half-year-old. "And Kay helps a lot too." She stopped talking for a moment as if she were thinking. "You're welcome to come see him whenever you want."

"I'd like that." Jackson didn't even react to the mention of Rick. He'd tracked her for months after she'd left, desperate to find her as if he could magically repair the damage done with the simple knowledge of where she'd gone. Of course, once he had that pile of photos and intelligence at his fingertips, he'd thrown it all in the firepit at the cursed house, burned it until there was nothing left but ashes. It had been the first step on his journey to sobriety. "Hopefully he remembers me. Wouldn't want to scare him with some random old man stranger danger." He smiled but it was forced, felt stiff.

"Of course, he remembers you." Despite everything, Lyv had made sure Christian knew and remembered his father. "Sometimes I pull up old matches on YouTube or promos for him to watch."

"Oh Jesus… fuckin' cringe." He chuckled and shook his head, "I don't even watch those back. Not sure I want my legacy to be 'angry asshole yelling at the clouds', like that Grandpa Simpson meme." He looked down at the papers again, reaching out to tap his fingertips against the pile. "You still wanna do this, right? Sever all the ties?"

"I uh…" Her eyes left his as her hand came up and rubbed the back of her neck. They both knew it was one of her subtle nervous tells. Her shoulders went up in a shrug as she exhaled. "It's what you do next, right?" This was the last thing in the world she wanted to do but they couldn't make it work. So much had happened that it was hard to look past. As it was, she would never fall out of love with him.

"Yeah. It's…" he nodded, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest, "it's what functional adults are supposed to do, right? Cut out the cancer early enough, everyone wins." He moved the papers closer and started leafing through them. "There's a bank account. One I started when Christian was born – college fund or whatever it'll end up being. I'll give you access to it; I'll have my lawyer send over the details. And when the house sells, I'll split that with you. Only fair."

Lyv shook her head, feeling on the verge of tears. "You don't have to do that." She swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. "I barely lived in that house." She tried like hell to force a smile, but it fell flat. "Put it into that account for Christian." She was so tempted to reach out and hold his hand, but she wasn't sure how that would be received. Biting down on her lower lip, her vision had become a bit blurry, but she blinked them away.

"I don't want to do this." The words were out before he could check them, the honesty surprising them both. "Lyv. I…" he bit his lip, shaking his head. "Fuck it. Doesn't matter. It's done. Ship's sailed, right? We're through. And you earned your freedom." He unclipped the pen from his shirt collar. Started signing on the marked spots, each one feeling like a physical blow. He wanted to tell her that it was basically over with Missy, that he'd never really moved on. The words wouldn't fix what he'd done. He knew that. Still, he had to tell her. Sick desperation won out because he had nothing else. "I love you. I never stopped. I just want you to know." A small part of him hoped to hurt her with the truth. The other part just wanted closure.

Lyv's eyes filled with tears, causing her gaze to focus on the table. "Then why did you let it all go to hell? Why was she worth more than our marriage?" The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to recall them. Finally, she looked up into his eyes, her voice cracking. "Why?"

"She made me feel – fuck." It was hard to put it into words, to explain that the way Missy had looked at him with a sort of reverence had reminded him of the good old days, when he was untouchable and golden belts fell at his feet. Made him forget that he was a hobbled and broken piece of shit with one foot already out the door. "It's stupid. I didn't set out to fuck her brains out if that's what you're thinking. Honestly, at first, it was just that… don't look at me like that, Lyv. It wasn't a competition. She promised big things. She had references, all these big ideas. Said she could buy me more time. I wanted that, more than anything else."

He was still looking down at the pages, at the sloppy signature that had deteriorated over time thanks to the nerve damage in his hands and wrists. Time was something fleeting, utterly finite. He had run out and the evidence of that was staring him in the face. "Doesn't matter." His throat was suddenly dry and he coughed, reaching for the latte to drain the last of it. Bordering on cold now, sickening sweet with bitter grit at the bottom – what a delightful parallel. "Listen, despite how you wanna blame yourself? I crossed the line. Not you. None of this is your fault."

She stared at him, that raw need to throw her arms around him and beg him to take her back making her chest ache in the worst way. "Then why wasn't I enough?" She had a battle raging internally; Lyv's heart was begging to take Jax back while her brain had a few things that it wanted to say. "I was alone when I was told our baby didn't have a heartbeat." She let the words hang there as tears started to stream her face.

"I was alone when they told me I needed surgery." The words came out hollow, the pain of waiting all day for her to pick him up still fresh. If there was a moment that had sent him spiralling into Missy's bed, that had been it. "Y'know, when they told me that my career was basically over. So, I guess you got a bit of revenge there, huh?" He knew that wasn't equal, not anywhere near, but he couldn't keep the words inside. He pushed the signed papers towards her, "you're right. You deserve better than some broken, narcissistic, glory chasing piece of shit. I just… I wish I had done better by you. You were enough. I tried–"

The sound of a clearing throat caused him to look up sharply to see a dark-haired handsome man standing next to the table. The way he looked at Lyv made it clear that they knew each other before those dark eyes fixed on Jackson and he spoke with a hint of a posh English accent. "Everything alright here?"

"What?" Lyv quickly looked at Rick, surprised to find him there. "Rick… yeah uh…" Jax's revelation had completely thrown Lyv off as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Everything is okay." Her hand came up and wiped at her eyes.

"Peachy keen, chief." That old familiar sarcasm oozed in Jackson's tone as he scooted his chair back, rising slowly to his feet. He didn't want to question what was going on here – he honestly didn't want to know. So this was the infamous Rick she'd mentioned earlier. "Dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's like a good boy." His gaze cut to Lyv's, not really surprised to see her looking down at the table. He tapped a finger against the sheaf of papers. "Make sure to forward that to my lawyer. You've still got his number, I'm sure." The urge to lash out, to bury his fist in this stranger's face was overwhelming and he knew he had to get the fuck out of here before he made some kind of scene. The last thing he needed was to pop up on some viral video that would torch the last shreds of credibility he had left. Without another word, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the coffeeshop.

Rick's hand came to gently rest on Lyv's shoulder. "Sorry for the intrusion. I could see you struggling – didn't mean to overstep."

Lyv watched Jax leave, the urge to beg him to return almost impossible to ignore. "You…" she swallowed hard past the catch in her voice, "didn't." She took a moment to collect herself as she grabbed the divorce papers. "It's for the best." The papers were slid back into her bag as she pushed herself to her feet. The tears had stopped flowing, but it wouldn't take much to set her off again. She looked her best friend in the eyes. "Get me drunk and take me to bed? I just wanna forget about today."

Rick Ravenswood nodded, glancing towards the door to make sure her erstwhile ex wasn't about to make a grand return brandishing a baseball bat. It wasn't as though that was out of character for him, after all. The coast remained clear, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a gently comforting squeeze. "You've had enough stress for one day. Let's get out of here."