Steve smiled, chuckling as he was on familiar ground.
“It had its perks.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. If any kid gave you a hard time on the playground you could have had him come to school and say his catchphrase.”
Autumn adopted a gravelly, harsh-sounding voice and a narrow-eyed glare. Her face contorted in an almost grotesque manner, seeming quite similar to the carefree spirit displayed by his students. The sinister grimace made him laugh and warmed his heart at the same time.
“You will BURN…IN…HELL!”
“That’s pretty good! A lot of women wouldn’t have gone all the way with the face.”
“A lot of women are shallow bitches. I am what I am. Lots of guys have found me attractive.”
“So does this one.”
“Okay…changing conversation off of ‘date mode.’ So, your mom wasn’t a wrestler, I take it? Uh…” She looked at him, lines knitting her brow. “Is your mom, uh…is she still alive?”
“Oh yeah. She and Pop live out in Cali, where it’s warm all the time. How they made it work for so long with him constantly on the road is beyond me.”
“That’s true love for you.” Autumn’s tone held a note of bitterness, and her gaze seemed far away for a moment.
He raised his eyebrow at her tone, but she fell silent again. After a few quiet moments, he cleared his throat.
“What about your parents?”
She glanced at him sharply, her lips drawn in a tight line.
“Mom died a long time ago. And my dad…well, he never wanted much to do with Mom and me.”
“That’s rough,” said Steve, wincing in sympathy.
Autumn’s hands fidgeted. “Yeah.”
“I used to whine because my dad was gone all the time. You know, he missed things like my wrestling meets, my violin recitals…”
“Shut up!” she said, playfully punching him in the arm. “The wrestling makes sense with who your dad is, but you don’t seem like the classical music type.”
“I’m not, but my mother insisted that I get some culture. Pop’s kind of a redneck, through and through. I guess she wanted me to be more of a Renaissance man.”
They stared at each other, then looked away as they navigated the crowd and found the door leading to their seats.
“What kind of music do you like?” he asked when the silence became unbearable.
“Lady Gaga,” she said, ticking off the names on the lithe fingers of one hand, “Justin Bieber, Bruno Mars…”
Steve tried to hide his surprise but largely failed. Autumn suddenly favored him with a wicked grin.
“I’m fucking with you,” she said. “I like most anything, really, but I’ve got a soft spot for The Cure, the Beastie Boys…and I really love metal, especially British metal.”
“Really?” he said, blinking in amazement. “Iron Maiden is probably my favorite band.”
“Iron Maiden?” She rolled her eyes. “They suck.”
Steve’s smile dropped off his face.
“I’m fucking with you again,” she said, howling with laughter.
Chapter 3
“I THINK THESE are our seats,” said Steve as he pointed to the padded steel chairs almost flush with the metal guardrail encircling the ring.
He moved aside, allowing Autumn to get past. Once she was seated, he situated his tall frame in the chair next to her. The Garden had been curtained in half, the stadium seating forming a rough U shape around them. Throngs of people threaded through the aisles, the multitude of their voices becoming a din. A local radio station played over the sound system, partially masking their conversation. The arena was just a bit shy of being uncomfortably warm, and sweat stood out on his brow.
“I have never been this close before,” said Autumn, doffing her coat and letting it drape over her chair back. Steve swallowed hard at the sight of her bare shoulders. A brightly colored tattoo of an oriental dragon was on her right deltoid, while a tribal pattern adorned her left shoulder. There was evidence of more ink, but her forearm-length gloves concealed most of them. He was suddenly, intensely aware of her as a woman, and he was desperate to keep the fact off his face.
“Close enough to get sweat and blood on us. My sister Susie and I used to call it Tetanus Row as a goof.”
“You have a sister?” Autumn was craning her neck and scanning the crowd for something.
“Yeah, she just turned nineteen. I think she’s the son my dad always wanted; she actually likes wrestling. She’s even training to be one.”
Autumn fixed him with a somber gaze, chewing her lower lip.
“You don’t like wrestling?”
“Not really. Ironic, eh? I guess I just kind of saw how little time Pops got to spend with us, much less time for himself. It’s a hard life, there’s no benefits package, and you’re on the road constantly. Plus, when I watch wrestling, I’m always thinking stuff like ‘well, that guy’s belly-to-belly suplex could be tighter,’ or ‘how long you going to work that resthold, fatso? Do some cardio for the love of god,’ you know?”
Autumn laughed at his mocking sentiments, clearly delighted with mean-spirited humor.
“Then why did you come?” she asked once she had regained her composure. “Obviously, your dad won’t even be able to acknowledge you tonight.”
“Well…the company is good.”
“Oooh,” said Autumn, flinching. Her face broke in a wide grin. “That line’s a panty peeler too. Shame that this isn’t a date.”
He folded his arms over his chest, brow knit with confusion. After a moment he spoke, his voice a bit stiff. “So how come?”
“How come what?”
“How come this isn’t one. A date, I mean.”
She turned away from him, brown eyes narrowed as she stared intently at the ring. “I don’t date. Try not to take it personally, huh?”
“Why don’t you date?”
“It’s just a waste of time. Mine and theirs.”
“Why?”
She shook her head, falling silent for a moment. He formed his hand into a fist, berating himself for bringing it up. He spotted a beer vendor and flagged the man down.
“Thirsty? All they have is beer and soda, I’m afraid.”
“I could go for a beer.” She was digging in her purse.
“I got it,” he said, digging in his own wallet.
“No, you don’t. I’m being a total bitch to you, you’re not paying for my drink.”
“Yes, I am. And you’re not being a bitch, total or otherwise.”
She stopped her hunt for bills, watching as Steve dug out a twenty and handed it to the vendor. Soon they each had a tall plastic cup. Autumn brought hers to her painted lips and sipped at the foam as it spilled over the edge.
“Most women don’t like beer,” he said with admiration.
“I don’t either, if it’s Milwaukee’s Best or Keystone.”
“Does Keystone even get you drunk? Seems like drinking water. And the Beast tastes like they filtered it through a New York Knick’s jock strap.”
She laughed, spraying a mouthful of beer over the safety railing to spatter on the rubber mats laid out for the wrestler’s protection.
“You made me abuse alcohol,” she said, flushing as she tried to mop up the fluid from her chin.
“I liked the sound of that.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, a gesture he found both a little goofy and endearing.
“Your laugh…I like it when you laugh.”
“Stick around. I find all sorts of inappropriate things funny, so it should be a riot!”
The bell rang loudly three times, eliciting a whoop from the gathered masses. Loud rock music played as the first athlete was announced. Steve watched Autumn as she stood up and leaned on the metal rail, straining to see the distant wrestler. Her brown eyes were shining, and a simple, beautiful smile was on her face. In that moment, she seemed more like an excited child than the caustic young woman she normally appeared to be.
The night’s matches passed, and Steve found himself enjoying them in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Autumn whooped and hollered for the wrestlers she liked, booed and hissed the ones she hated, all with great enthusiasm. When a particularly bone-crushing impact occurred, she winced in sympathy and turned to look at him, her mouth an O.
Near the end of the program, the lights dimmed low. A tremendous shout rang out as “Hell’s Bells” played over the loudspeaker.
“Here he comes,” said Steve, feeling a tinge of pride in his father in spite of himself.
“He always had the best entrance theme,” said Autumn, on her feet and staring intently at the curtain wall. Steve couldn’t resist watching her rear as she shook from side to side in rhythm with the music.
Steve’s father appeared in a cloud of smoke, causing an even more thunderous cheer to rise up and smash against his eardrums. Autumn added her shout to the mix, punctuating it with a shrill whistle. Deathslayer strode purposefully toward the ring.
“I gotta admit, the man has presence.”
“Yeah, he’s got the ‘it’ factor,” she said with a nod, never taking her eyes off his father. “Some guys don’t. I mean, they’re athletic and everything, but you just don’t care, you know?”
Steve nodded, looking again to his father. The old man had transformed, black eyeliner and mascara creating a creepy look on his visage. He wore a floor-length, black leather cape with a frilled collar, like a twisted Eurotrash count. He stopped, standing still as a stone before the ring, and held his arms out to his sides. The crowd’s cheering rose to a frenzy.
“I love this part,” said Autumn.
Suddenly, the Deathslayer brought his arms up and then down. A tremendous pyrotechnic burst went off around the ring, startling Steve, even though he was prepared for it. Autumn shouted, waving her arms wildly as the big man finished his entrance ritual. It was subtle, but Steve caught his father nodding slightly in his direction when their eyes met. The Deathslayer’s gaze slid over to Autumn, and the tiniest ghost of a smile played over his face. Then it was gone, the Deathslayer from Hell returned, and he rolled his eyes back into his head in an Exorcist parody.
“I could never do that,” said Steve, shaking his head. “Gives me a headache.”
He felt a hard smack on his bicep. He turned his gaze back to Autumn to find her eyes showing nothing but white.
“That’s creepy,” he said with a laugh.
“What, this isn’t creepy.” She pawed at his arm, the satiny touch of her gloves light on his skin. “Brains,” she said in a guttural voice. “Braaaaaains!!!”
He laughed at her continued antics, which she did not stop until a hard slam from the ring alerted her to the beginning of the action.
Autumn picked at the grilled chicken breast on her plate, tearing off shreds of meat with her fork.
“Is it not good?” Steve’s eyes narrowed as he stared across the table at her.
They were seated in a diner several blocks from the Garden, packed with people, most of them having just left the arena themselves. Their ears were still ringing from the sound of the crowd, and he had suggested they get something to eat several times before she had heard him.
“It’s fine,” she said, pushing the plate away from herself. “I guess I drank too many beers.”
“You only had two,” he said.
She shook her head, staring at her gloved hands folded on the table.
They sat in relative silence for a time, Steve cutting into his steak and wincing at the scraping sound. He fumbled about in his head for something to say, anything to break the awkward silence. It was Autumn who eventually spoke.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to chip in?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“You must have a good job.”
“Yeah, it’s all right. I’m a kindergarten teacher at PS 122.”
“No way,” she said, her mouth flying open in amazement.
“Yes way.”
“You don’t meet many male kindergarten teachers,” she said, taking a sip of her soda.
“Yeah, there are some stereotypes to rail against, to be sure.”
“How many people have asked you if you’re gay?”
“Less than you might think. I believe people are afraid to ask. If I am, then they’ve just made an issue out of something society expects you to be cool with. If I’m not, they’ve probably just offended me.”
“Does it bother you that people think that?”
“Not really. I’ve learned to have fun with it. You know, ham it up in front of parents who clearly think I like dudes.” He adopted feminine body language and effected a high-pitched voice. “Oh, little Randall has done so fabulously this year!”
She burst out laughing, squirting him with the soda that shot out of her nose.
“Sorry,” she said as he grimaced. She quickly took a handful of napkins and dabbed at his face. The touch of her fingers was electric, making his heart race.
“I think I got it all.”
He slowly opened his eyes. She was looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, mouth pouty. “What?”
“I said I think I got it all,” she said, exaggerating her speech.
“No, I mean what was with that expression you just made?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see my own face, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You looked sad, almost jealous, I don’t know…”
“Oh.” Autumn took her soda cup in both hands and sucked noisily on the straw. “I was just thinking that it’s too bad I don’t date, because you seem like you might be all right.”
Steve could not help the goofy grin that spread over his features.
Autumn rolled her brown eyes. “Oh, stop it! You’re acting like I just proposed. Dork.”
Much later in the evening, they stood outside her building, the cool breeze playing with Autumn’s hair. She had one hand on the smooth metal handle, a foot placed on the single stone step.
“Thanks for sharing that ticket, and feeding me to boot! I had a blast.”
“No problem.” Steve fidgeted from foot to foot. He tried to make his mouth work, but found his speech had left him.
“So, it’s getting late.” She turned toward the door. “I should probably head in.”
“Hey,” he said as she pulled the door open about an inch.
She paused, her manner cool but with a tinge of expectation as well.
He cleared his throat. “Maybe we could do it again sometime? I mean, you know, hang out?”
Autumn gave him a slight smile. “Yeah…yeah, I’d like that.”
She waited while he dug out his cell phone, and then they exchanged numbers.
“Call me,” he said, seeing that her eyes were shining.
She went into the door just before her smile became a wide grin. He couldn’t keep one off his own face, whistling “Hell’s Bells” as his eyes searched for a taxi.
“I need a heal!” came the frantic, high-pitched, barely-masculine voice in Phil’s ear.
“I’m coming,” he said, fingers flashing over his keyboard. The figure on his computer screen, a pointy-eared fellow with baroque armor, was obscured briefly by an open menu. Without really seeing the symbols flashing before him, Phil made a rapid series of commands. When he came back out of the menu, his avatar strolled up to an animated melee. The avatar’s hands glowed, and one of the fallen digital warriors was soon back on his feet.
“What took so long?” came the whining voice in his headset.
“You’re welcome, Dean.” Phil’s voice dripped with venom.
“Hey, is that Phillip’s voice I hear?” asked a feminine voice through the headset.
“It’s me, Crawley. You need a heal?”
Crawley chuckled.
“No, I just thought you had band practice on Saturday nights.”
“There is no band right now.” Phil’s fingers flashed over the keyboard. “Unless we can find another le
ad guitarist, stat!”
“Who cares about your fucking band?” said Dean. “We’re in the middle of a raid here.”
“I can carry on a conversation and play, you know.” Phil gritted his teeth.
“Then how come my heal was so late?”
“I play guitar,” said Crawley’s voice.
Phil felt a rush of elation, but he was busy trying to keep Dean off his back. “Uhm, that’s great.”
“I’ve been playing since I was eleven! I know there’s chicks who embarrass themselves all over the Internet trying to seem artistic, but I can actually play.”
“Am I the only one who cares about the Darkstone Legacy Shadow Warriors bearing down upon us?” asked Dean.
“Yes,” said Crawley and Phil at the same time, causing them both to burst into laughter.
“I guess you could come out and, I don’t know, jam with us or whatever,” said Phil, clicking rapidly on his mouse.
“That would be awesome! I used to play a lot with my brother’s band, but they broke up when he got deployed to Afghanistan.”
Phil allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic.
“What kind of music did they play?”
“Kind of classic rock, but they did a few contemporary songs, like Nickelback.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s cool.”
“If you want to be in this guild, you have to take it seriously!” said Dean.
“Shut up, asshole,” said Phil. He winced at his own words. “I was talking to Dean, not you Crawley.”
“Yeah, I knew that. You said asshole, so I knew you were talking about Dean.”
They both laughed, causing the butt of her joke to sputter.
“I don’t need this shit! I’m turning off my headset, so you two can flirt all you want.”
“Uh,” said Phil.
Crawley’s voice giggled in his ear, a girlish sound that made him grin.
“So when are we gonna do this?”
“Uh, I guess tomorrow might be good,” he said slowly. “I know Rex is off, and our lead singer never works weekends. Rex will just use it as an excuse to have a barbeque.”
Forever Autumn Page 4