Post by Johnny Reb on Sept 27, 2010 15:33:07 GMT -5
In a private parking lot behind the ARCO Arena, fenced off and warded by underpaid security guards, the Inveterate Confederate leans against Chuy’s Ford Ranchero. The two men pass a joint back and forth, clearly engaged in a conversation that seems to have been going on for some time.
Johnny: No, no, no… you’re bein’ paranoid. Dixie ain’t like that.
Chuy is silent for a moment, holding his toke as he passes the joint back to Reb.
Don Jesus: How well did you really know her before, Bernardo?
Johnny: Well, I …
He trails off, frowning. It’s a good question. They’d been together for just under six months, but it had been a whirlwind romance that had ended in disaster. In retrospect, what he knew about Dixie Pride was limited. She was a singer/songwriter for a Southern rock quartet, yet she hadn’t mentioned the band or her career since coming back into his life. And in spite of apparently not having a single engagement at which to perform, Dixie seems to show up wherever Johnny happens to be any given week. Is she simply following him around the country? If she’s not working, where’s the money coming from?
Johnny: Y’know, Chuy, I ain’t sure. I wanna trust her. I really do. I mean, if she’s been lyin’ this whole time… I can’t even be certain the relationship we had was on the level. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions, here.
The aging Mexican rolls his eyes in exasperation.
Don Jesus: Bernardo, you saw the bank statement…
Johnny: So? Maybe it’s nothin’.
Don Jesus: That kind of money …doesn’t pay for “nothin’.” She’s being compensated for a service. It’s better if we find out what that service is.
Reb sighs heavily.
Johnny: Whatever it is, it’s her business…
Don Jesus: What if her business has something to do with you?
Johnny: Like what? What possible interest could some mysterious third party have with me? Sounds like you’re suggestin’ someone’s payin’ her to date me.
Chuy shakes his head, frustrated with Johnny’s refusal to take him seriously.
Don Jesus: No. I’m telling you that someone is paying her to get inside your head, under your skin.
Johnny: Ok. Let’s assume that’s true. We don’t know who, an’ we don’t know why.
Chuy shrugs.
Don Jesus: Maybe Bernardo. He’s gone a little… loco these days…
Reb’s reply is a derisive snort.
Johnny: If Doc wanted to get under my skin, there’s easier ways. Besides, she showed up before he started actin’ like an ass.
Don Jesus: You underestimate him, Bernardo. He is not acting like an ass; he is an ass. On top of that, your friend can be very subtle.
Johnny: Nah… It’s just not his style. Doc prefers the direct approach. I’d expect a steel chair to the head before any cloak and dagger stuff.
Jesus rubs his chin thoughtfully, his brow creased with concentration. Finally, he nods.
Don Jesus: You’re probably right, Bernardo. And anyway, if he was paying her to pretend to be your girl, why would she be sleeping with him?
Reb looks at Chuy in wide-eyed surprise.
Johnny: She…what?
Don Jesus: Didn’t you know? Everyone else does… It’s not a secret.
Johnny: But… I thought… Dixie…
He shakes his head, confused. Chuy gazes at him with an expression of sympathy.
Don Jesus: She’s been in as many of his promos as his own wife. In the last one –
Reb holds up a hand to stop him, not really wanting to hear any more.
Johnny: I haven’t exactly been payin’ attention. Caught that little bit of shameless self promotion he did in the guise of a charity thing, but after that…
Don Jesus: Bernardo… you cannot afford to ignore these things. I told you that girl was trouble. Maybe now you’ll listen.
Johnny casts his gaze down to the cracked asphalt at his feet, his thoughts turmoil in his mind. For several minutes, he is silent, unmoving; then, he glances up at Chuy, his face expressionless, giving no hint to what he’s feeling.
Johnny: I can’t worry ‘bout that right now. Whatever she’s up to – if she’s up to anythin’ – it’ll keep. Right now, I got twenty-two other things to be concerned about. It’s War tonight, an’ by God, I’m gonna go in there and do my damnedest to walk out tonight with a brand new shiny title.
Chuy nods approvingly at the determined set to Reb’s jaw.
Johnny: Last time, I went into War knowin’ the odds were against me, that I wasn’t gonna win. But that was a year ago, an’ so much has changed since then. I’ve proved myself over an’ over in the ring, an’ I don’t think anyone would be surprised to see me come out on top this time. Sure…there’s other guys who seem more likely to win it than I… but with all the talk in the locker room, I hear my own name mentioned a lot when it comes to guys who might pull the upset over Slickie T.
Yeah, ok, last year I’d already held the World Championship before War; but only for about a month. I wasn’t really on anybody’s radar then.
This year, though… Twelve short months can make such a difference. I’ve taken the tag titles on three separate occasions. I been up against the best in this business, an’ almost always come out on top. Now… everyone knows I’m a contender, that there is every possibility I could walk out of War tonight a two-time World Champ.
An’ that is exactly what I intend to do…
Reb takes a final puff from the joint, handing it to Chuy as he reaches into the back of the Ranchero to grab his familiar, travel-worn duffel and his tag belt. Don Jesus looks at the tiny, dwindling roach in dismay. One more toke, and he drops it on the pavement, following Johnny into the arena.
Johnny: No, no, no… you’re bein’ paranoid. Dixie ain’t like that.
Chuy is silent for a moment, holding his toke as he passes the joint back to Reb.
Don Jesus: How well did you really know her before, Bernardo?
Johnny: Well, I …
He trails off, frowning. It’s a good question. They’d been together for just under six months, but it had been a whirlwind romance that had ended in disaster. In retrospect, what he knew about Dixie Pride was limited. She was a singer/songwriter for a Southern rock quartet, yet she hadn’t mentioned the band or her career since coming back into his life. And in spite of apparently not having a single engagement at which to perform, Dixie seems to show up wherever Johnny happens to be any given week. Is she simply following him around the country? If she’s not working, where’s the money coming from?
Johnny: Y’know, Chuy, I ain’t sure. I wanna trust her. I really do. I mean, if she’s been lyin’ this whole time… I can’t even be certain the relationship we had was on the level. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions, here.
The aging Mexican rolls his eyes in exasperation.
Don Jesus: Bernardo, you saw the bank statement…
Johnny: So? Maybe it’s nothin’.
Don Jesus: That kind of money …doesn’t pay for “nothin’.” She’s being compensated for a service. It’s better if we find out what that service is.
Reb sighs heavily.
Johnny: Whatever it is, it’s her business…
Don Jesus: What if her business has something to do with you?
Johnny: Like what? What possible interest could some mysterious third party have with me? Sounds like you’re suggestin’ someone’s payin’ her to date me.
Chuy shakes his head, frustrated with Johnny’s refusal to take him seriously.
Don Jesus: No. I’m telling you that someone is paying her to get inside your head, under your skin.
Johnny: Ok. Let’s assume that’s true. We don’t know who, an’ we don’t know why.
Chuy shrugs.
Don Jesus: Maybe Bernardo. He’s gone a little… loco these days…
Reb’s reply is a derisive snort.
Johnny: If Doc wanted to get under my skin, there’s easier ways. Besides, she showed up before he started actin’ like an ass.
Don Jesus: You underestimate him, Bernardo. He is not acting like an ass; he is an ass. On top of that, your friend can be very subtle.
Johnny: Nah… It’s just not his style. Doc prefers the direct approach. I’d expect a steel chair to the head before any cloak and dagger stuff.
Jesus rubs his chin thoughtfully, his brow creased with concentration. Finally, he nods.
Don Jesus: You’re probably right, Bernardo. And anyway, if he was paying her to pretend to be your girl, why would she be sleeping with him?
Reb looks at Chuy in wide-eyed surprise.
Johnny: She…what?
Don Jesus: Didn’t you know? Everyone else does… It’s not a secret.
Johnny: But… I thought… Dixie…
He shakes his head, confused. Chuy gazes at him with an expression of sympathy.
Don Jesus: She’s been in as many of his promos as his own wife. In the last one –
Reb holds up a hand to stop him, not really wanting to hear any more.
Johnny: I haven’t exactly been payin’ attention. Caught that little bit of shameless self promotion he did in the guise of a charity thing, but after that…
Don Jesus: Bernardo… you cannot afford to ignore these things. I told you that girl was trouble. Maybe now you’ll listen.
Johnny casts his gaze down to the cracked asphalt at his feet, his thoughts turmoil in his mind. For several minutes, he is silent, unmoving; then, he glances up at Chuy, his face expressionless, giving no hint to what he’s feeling.
Johnny: I can’t worry ‘bout that right now. Whatever she’s up to – if she’s up to anythin’ – it’ll keep. Right now, I got twenty-two other things to be concerned about. It’s War tonight, an’ by God, I’m gonna go in there and do my damnedest to walk out tonight with a brand new shiny title.
Chuy nods approvingly at the determined set to Reb’s jaw.
Johnny: Last time, I went into War knowin’ the odds were against me, that I wasn’t gonna win. But that was a year ago, an’ so much has changed since then. I’ve proved myself over an’ over in the ring, an’ I don’t think anyone would be surprised to see me come out on top this time. Sure…there’s other guys who seem more likely to win it than I… but with all the talk in the locker room, I hear my own name mentioned a lot when it comes to guys who might pull the upset over Slickie T.
Yeah, ok, last year I’d already held the World Championship before War; but only for about a month. I wasn’t really on anybody’s radar then.
This year, though… Twelve short months can make such a difference. I’ve taken the tag titles on three separate occasions. I been up against the best in this business, an’ almost always come out on top. Now… everyone knows I’m a contender, that there is every possibility I could walk out of War tonight a two-time World Champ.
An’ that is exactly what I intend to do…
Reb takes a final puff from the joint, handing it to Chuy as he reaches into the back of the Ranchero to grab his familiar, travel-worn duffel and his tag belt. Don Jesus looks at the tiny, dwindling roach in dismay. One more toke, and he drops it on the pavement, following Johnny into the arena.
