The internet. A wonderful fucking thing, right? The wonder of the modern age; the answer to practically every single one of life’s question at the touch of your fingertips, just a Google search away, one question typed in the bar at the top of Bing… okay, a google search away, nobody uses fucking Bing!
Fantastic, huh? Now imagine having to use it to piece together just who the fuck you are!
I’m not talking about in some “Who Do You Think You Are?” genealogy show help me figure out where my family come from kind of way here; I couldn’t give a fuck if I come from some a line of English settlers, Italian noblemen or fucking Irish potato farmers, none of that crap matters what so ever… Irish if you were wondering, though with a name like mine, it could have been the first on that list.
And that’s what it’s about, isn’t it? It’s all about the name. Who the fuck do I think I am… who am I? Well, that question was pretty fucking pertinent for a while, to say the least. See, for a while, my name wasn’t the one I was born with…. not through any fault of my own, at least not in a conscious way. For quite a while, I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know where I came from, what I did, any of that shit. Imagine waking up one day and having no idea who you are, your entire life just one big puzzle; that’s the position I was in eleven years ago, without any idea who I was. I suppose I should have at least taken solace in the fact that there aren’t many people out there who get to choose their own name. Not just their first name but surname too. You have no idea how hard that is, by the way. I mean, a name isn’t just a name is it, it’s an identity. Go look in a mirror, go on, go look in one and tell me what you see. I’m not talking about features, appearance… let me make it easy for you; you see the identity given to you by your parents or the people who raised you. Ninety nine point nine percent of you have continued to go by that name, one chosen for you before you’re able to make that conscious choice…
…so how the fuck do you choose your own name when you don’t know who that identity is? Fucking circular thinking, you know? You don’t know who you are, so you have to decide who you are, but how do you decide who you are if you don’t know who you are. Talk about a fucking headache. I went by the name Jody Nelson for a couple of years, I basically had to pick a couple of names that I liked and stuck them together. I watched a lot of cable in hospital, A&E documentaries, sports centre, eighties moves. You know that film Breakfast Club? Yeah, took the name Nelson after the guy who played John Bender. Guy was a badass. And Jody? Plucked it at random from a documentary on ESPN about some Canadian hockey player called Jody Hull. I didn’t even know if I liked hockey before I woke up in hospital with no memory of who the hell I was, but the name worked with the surname I picked so why the hell not.
But Jody Nelson died a long time ago... the need for him dwindled as memories started coming back, slowly but surely piecing my life back together, a memory here, a Google search there… slowly, but surely, just like a baby learning everything for the first time, I figured out who I was. I learned to be me again. I learned to be the man whose parents brought him into the world in a small suburb in New Jersey, back in nineteen eighty six. I slowly figured out the answer to the one question that was more important than all others:
Who is Jason Helms. The answer? Well, it’s All In The Name, isn’t it?
Late 2006
New Orleans, Louisiana
In all the states I could have ended up in, Louisiana probably wouldn’t have been my first choice… don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t the bottom of the list either; got to bless mother nature for ensuring the current of the great Mississippi was strong enough that I didn’t get dumped in Tennessee, bunch of fucking country singers and hicks spewing crap about how music died with Johnny Cash or that Willie Nelson is the second coming of Christ. Least New Orleans knows how to throw a damn party! Not that I’ve really had much time to party though, not with the doctors checkup’s and visits to the psychologist. Got to love it when these quacks treat you like some sort of science experiment. Funny thing is, I wish I had the answers for them, I really fucking do. It’s been three months since they found me washed up on the bank of the Mississippi river just outside of New Orleans, now clue where I’d come from or how I’d got there, other than the obvious fact that I’d travelled down the river. Could have been a hell of a lot worse; not just the obvious fact that I could have drowned in there, but if I’d not ended up snagged on the roots of some fallen tree, I could have drifted all the way to the Gulf of Mexico and if the river didn’t get me the ocean sure as fuck would have. Fucking hilarious, right? Three months after some fucking dog walker finds me washed up by the side of the river, a wonderful fucking scar across the back of my head where I hit something along the way, two dozen stitches worth of loss of memory and they still have no damn clue who the fuck I am. They tried finger prints, dental work, face identification, nothing. Guess that ruled me out as a mob boss or car jacker and crap like that. Can’t be notorious if nobody has a fucking clue who I am, no criminal record to speak of.
The bar was empty as I sat drinking my fourth whiskey sour of the afternoon. Hardly a surprise really; not many people want to drink at one in the afternoon in the middle of the week… unlucky for them I guess. I had a baseball cap covering my head, the scar was still way to obvious and I didn’t exactly want to encourage people to talk to me about how I got it. How do you explain that bullshit to someone without looking like a fucking sympathy case, huh? The bartender stood by the other end of the bar, watching whatever piece of crap show he was into, doing me the curtesy of not playing up to the stereotype, you know the one, the chatty barkeep who wants to hear all the worlds troubles and lighten the load of his paying customers. This guy couldn’t give a crap about anything but my money and I was damn thankful for that fact. You don’t drink in a bar in the early afternoon on your own for nothing, you know?
I slammed the empty glass back down on the bar top just hard enough to catch the fat fuck’s attention and drag him away from his show so he could serve up another; fuck knows why I was on whiskey sour’s, I had to figure out what my drink of choice was and it was one of the first I tasted in my listed search for answers so to speak. Not that I should have been drinking anything, but when you’re unable to work because you don’t have proof of who you are, what else can you do? I understand how the fuck we ended up with so many god damn alcoholics in this country, let’s put it that way. The bartender fixed up my drink with the least amount of fuss, sliding it in front of me and leaving the updated cheque next to the glass before heading back to his show, only stopped in his tracks by the sound of the door swinging open. I didn’t bother to turn around; not like I really knew anybody in town, other than the guy who owned the piece of shit apartment I was staying in and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to sit and talk to him, unless that conversation consisted of him begging me not to throw another punch as I searched for an answer to what the fuck made him think he could get away with renting out a place as disgusting as the one I was paying for the privilege of sleeping in.
Ignoring the new patron’s entrance to the bar, I grabbed my glass and drained a third of it in one. The scraping of a stool was followed by the bartender enquiring what the newcomer wanted… but the voice that came next, I gotta admit, it took me by surprise. Turning to the side, I realised that the new customer – a chick – had taken a seat two stools away from where I sat propping the end of the bar up; she had long dark hair, falling below her shoulders, and man she looked exhausted. I know I’m one to talk, I looked like crap and didn’t care who said it, but man this dame was beat, you could just tell she was down to her last nerve over something. Whatever, it wasn’t my business. I wasn’t there to pick anyone else up, you know? Not my responsibility. Funny how life doesn’t always work the way you expect it, huh?
“You ever have one of those days?” the brunette said, and it didn’t register at first because I thought she was talking to the bartender. “Forget I asked,” she said again, all pissed off and it was only then that I realised she was talking to me.
“You’re talking to me?” I said. Yeah, sometimes I like to state the fucking obvious. Give me a break, I don’t even know who the fuck I am, get over it.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here apart from the overweight guy with god-awful breath standing behind the bar and he’s too busy watching his soap opera bullshit to strike up a conversation,” she replied and I couldn’t quite place her accent; it definitely wasn’t local, now New Orleans drawl. In fact, it wasn’t any of the southern states if I could guess, though that was with limited knowledge of pretty much anything thanks to the giant bump to the head I’d taken only three months earlier. “Today has just been one of those fucking days; I swear to god, if I carried a gun I’d be in a holding cell by now waiting to justify why I shot that fit pig in the god damn head!” she went on… and while I admit that I didn’t really give a fuck about the trubbles that this broad was having, I won’t say I wasn’t at least intrigued when she said that she would have gladly shot someone in the face. I mean, what part of that story isn’t intriguing, huh?
“I know he’s pretty surly, but I don’t think that’s enough of a reason to kill the bartender,” I joked, and at first she looked at me with a vacant expression on her face before a smile slowly started to crack the hardened exterior and she held a hand out towards me.
“Aniya,” she said as I took her hand in mine and gave it the briefest of shakes before returing to my drink.
“Jody,” I replied, still not entirely comfortable with the name I’d haphazardly chosen for myself when the doctors insisted it would help facilitate my return to normal life. Some joke that fucking was. “Jody Nelson.”
“Jody, huh?” she said, a little surprised. “Not exactly a common name…”
“Coming from someone called Aniya?” I replied, smirking. That drew another little smile. Evidently my cynicism was endearing for some dumb reason. “So what’s got your panties in a bunch, huh? Murder’s not usually the top of a person’s agenda when they climb out of bed in the morning.”
A disgusted grunt slipped from her mouth at the mere question. Must have been a big deal, considering the look on her face. “This fucking pig at my office,” she said, picking up her drink that the bar tender had slid in front of her shortly after she first took her seat. “I just lost my job through no fault of my own… well, I say lost, I quit my job but I wasn’t left with much of a choice!”
“Rough day at the office, huh?” I quipped; I still didn’t really have any fucks to give for this chick’s problems, but hey, least I could do was pretend to be listening…
“That’s an understatement,” she told me, using the straw in the glass to stir her drink as she started to explain. “This complete slob at the office, he’s a huge rainmaker for the firm – I work at a law office by the way, or did do I guess? Anyway, the pig? A few nights ago, I was working late in the office, working on a case,” she went on, letting go of the straw as she turned to look at me. “And I’m bending over at the bookshelf and this pig, big fat slob, senior attorney and definitely next in line for partnership, he walks up and grabs my ass! Can you believe that?!”
Leaning back, I took a look at her ass as she sat on the barstool before straightening up again and nodding, a smirk on my face. “Actually, I can,” I said, still smirking and she cracked a smile again. “Seriously though, that sucks. Not entirely sure why you had to resign though?”
“That’s the worst part!” She said enthusiastically as she picked up her explanation again. “So I went straight to the senior partners, right? Told them I was going to sue the firm if they didn’t fire him and the partners agreed. I figured that was that… then yesterday I go into work and I find out this fat pig has come up with the worst fucking defence; he’s claiming he has this obsessive compulsive urge to grab butts! He’s been walking around the office for the last two days, grabbing women by the ass to strengthen his case! And then today,” she said, pausing to sip her drink before going on. “Today, I get called back into the boardroom and it turns out that this fucking pig has threatened to sue them if they fire him now he’s got this stupid defence and it turns out they’d rather be taken to court by me than him because he makes more money and has a better case!”
“So you quit…” I said.
She nodded her head enthusiastically in confirmation. “So I quit!” she added, not that she needed to. “I mean, why the fuck would I stay there when they obviously care more about a fat slob of an attorney than the entire female half of the workforce?!”
I nodded my head; wasn’t as if I could argue with that logic really… then again, companies think about money not common sense. “Sounds like you did the right thing anyway, getting out when you did…”
“No shit,” the brunette said, laughing sarcastically before draining whatever the fuck she was drinking in one.
“Next one’s on me,” I said before draining the last of my drink in the same way she had so I could tap the glass on the bar again. The bartender waddled back over to us grudgingly and I ordered another sour along with whatever the chick was having and pulled a wad of notes out to clear the tab I’d been building up since getting there earlier in the day.
“So you know my woes,” the broad asked me, once tubby had brought the drinks over and waddled away with my money to ring it through the till so he could get back to his show. “But what’s got you in here in the middle of the day though? I mean, it’s not exactly alcohol o’clock, is it?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like I could just burst out with “Yeah, so I dunno who I am and I’m trying out different personalities; I’m going for the alcoholic today”, could I? And it wasn’t as if I was even wanting to talk to this chick in the first place, I guess I’m just not the kind of guy who ignores someone when they want to talk. You learn something new every day. “Don’t ask,” I said, brushing off the question as politely as I could. “Let’s just say that you’re not the only one in the middle of a rough patch right now,” I added, hoping to got the chick wouldn’t press the matter. Fortunately, she didn’t.
“I’ll drink to that,” she replied, holding up her glass I and raised my own, clinking it against hers before bringing it to my lips to drink. Might only be a little after lunch time in Nola but as the old adage goes, it was probably five o’clock somewhere.
“So I’m guessing you’ll still be suing this asshole?” I asked casually, half turning in my seat so I was actually facing her slightly now; may as well look at the chick if I was going to keep the conversation going.
She nodded her head before sighing. “I already found counsel. I have a friend who works at another firm, they’re going to take it on as a favour, gratis. It doesn’t feel like enough though, nowhere near enough to make up for the fact that this guy didn’t just assault me but cost me my fucking job too!”
She had a point. I mean, it would be nice to see the Benjamin’s roll in when she inevitably won the case, but that didn’t make up for the fact that his inability to keep his hands to himself had cost her so much. And in that moment, I realised a little something about myself too, because I realised that while I didn’t know who I was, I knew I was the kind of guy who didn’t like people who laid their hands on women. Might be obvious but hey, for all I knew, I could be a serial rapist in my old life. I mean, I’d probably want to throw myself under a train or even back in the damn river if I found out I was, but you never know! “You want to get a little extra revenge?” I said, moving a little closer towards her, conspiratorily. Fuck knows why I’d actually started to care at this point, but I had and the idea of him getting away with it irked me.
“In what way?” she asked, clearly intrigued but also looking a little unsure. I mean, she’d known me all of what, twenty minutes? It’s not like we’d been friends for years or whatever…
“I think the guy needs teaching a lesson, and you said you’d have shot him if you got the chance, so--” I started and her eyes bugged out when I mentioned shooting him.
“I didn’t mean I actually wanted to kill him,” she stressed, sounding panicked and all I could do was smile; I mean, I found it funny. It wasn’t as if I was actually offering to murder the guy, even if she jumped to that assumption!
“And I’m not offering,” I said, pausing to take a drink of my sour as relief washed over her a little. “But that doesn’t mean he should be walking around thinking he won the day either,” I went on, not exactly hiding the fact that I was offering to make him see the error of his ways. “Look, I don’t exactly make a habit of this, but if you want the guy to take a beating, just gimme an address or even a name and I’ll see to it that he learns his lesson…”
I figured she’d tell me to go to hell or at least freak out a little; it’s not every day some random guy offers to beat the crap out of someone who’s wronged you, it wouldn’t have been a huge surprise if she’d flipped out… so when the smile spread across her face, I have to admit I was kind of surprised myself. “You know,” she said, her smile widening as she thought about the prospect. “I think he would benefit from learning a proper lesson. Money is nothing to this guy, he’s probably got legal insurance to cover the cost anyway, right? Maybe a physical lesson is what this guy needs…”
“I like the way you think,” I said, holding up my drink this time, waiting for her to clink her glass against it. Funny how plans can change; when I stepped into that bar, I planned to do nothing but slowly drink myself into a stupor. Guess my day was going to be more interesting than I’d anticipated after all….
Hollywood Hills, CA
November 2016
Moving house… “never again” seems to come to mind, and I’d put money on that being a popular theme for a hell of a lot of people who have packed up their entire life into boxes in order to move home and when you factor into the equation moving from another state? Yeah, safe to say I’m in no rush to do that fucking bullshit again! But sometimes you have to put up with the crap for the payoff at the end, the end justifies the means so to speak… and when you’ve been waiting for the moment of satisfaction for the longest time, it doesn’t matter how much you have to go through to get there, it’s worth it! I’m being cryptic, huh? Long story short… remember what I said about not knowing who you are, about having to sit at a computer and use that wonderful tool known as the internet to learn everything? Well… I learned everything. I mean, not just about me, but about everything that followed; have you any idea how difficult it was to learn that your own flesh and blood pretty much moved from your ‘death’? That your own brother just accepted that you were dead and then picked up where he left off?! I was devastated that he’d given up… but I was angry as hell too. I was furious, I resented him for making an even bigger success. David fucking Helms, the saint of the professional wrestling business, SCW’s Mister Superman! That’s how I saw it, he retired for a while around the end of the year that I was lost, only to pop back up a couple years later without even a damn care for what happened!
Oh, sure, he really went through the wringer; temporarily divorced, sat on his ass hording that cash he’d amassed, probably drank himself to near-death for a while… what about me, huh? Have you any idea how difficult those first few years were, even after I learned who I was?! It was a year before I learned my real name, three before everything came back. Brain injuries are not to be fucked around with; that crack to the skull I took, it messed things up in my skull pretty damn badly to the point where it was like untangling a series of different coloured threads, trying to find one particular colour. And I sat on that, man… I sat on it for as long as humanly possible, in fact I let it consume me for want of a better description. I’m amazed that Aniya stuck around all this time, given how much of a bitter twisted cynical bastard it was turning me into… or maybe I’d always been one, even before the accident, who knows? It’s hard not to let those kind of questions come up, the question over just how much I’ve changed as a result of the accident… but I know that the resulting years definitely changed me, because with every week that passed, every month, I let the whole thing consume me; imagine being so bitter about something that it slowly starts to not just occupy your mind but you become engrossed by it. I hated him, I hated my own brother, the only blood I had left and not because of anything he really did but because of what he didn’t do. He stopped looking, stopped caring! And not only that, he went on to become a legend in the business that robbed us of our relationship and robbed me of a whole year of my life and another three before I was back to my old self… my new self…
I was broke when I met Aniya, and even when I got my identity back I had lost a great deal of what I had. I had no last will and testament in place, why would I when I was so young? Maybe it was dumb of me to not think about the future like that, but what can I say, I fucked up. My money ended up going to the state, my home sold off by David. I learned that my stuff was put in storage, but I couldn’t even get that because it was all in David’s name, the unit in Long Beach as locked out to me then as it was now…
And so I had to rebuild. Things between Aniya and me grew more serious with each passing day, I moved in with her after six months and we married a few months after I rediscovered who I was. Jason and Aniya Helms, the perfect couple to anyone who looked on from the outside. And to be fair, we’ve barely had an argument in all that time, so maybe we are. Either way, we had to build our life together from nothing… and we did that. Aniya and I started a business, a home delivery supplements company that covered everything from those just wanting to get their daily dose of vitamins to those who needed a helping hand with their workout routine. All completely above board, we wouldn’t dream of dealing in certain drugs that enhanced performance. Cough cough. When things took off, we sold the business for a great profit and gradually worked our way of the financial ladder, starting again in another state, another rented home, another profit; you wouldn’t believe the amount of body builders and athletes who were willing to take shortcuts! Funny thing is, the venture that finally brought us to California – the state where I planned to get back what was mine and truly reclaim my life! – was anything but shady. My bank balance was healthy enough at this point that I could have just made a few clever investments and lived off the interest if so inclined, but an opportunity came up that allowed me to buy a nice little bar on Sunset and when I realised that the house next to my beloved brother was up for sale too, I knew the time had finally come. It was finally chance to make good on the surname that he had made so much money off of while I had to slum It because the world forgot I fucking existed!
“Remind me why we didn’t get a removal company to do this?” I remember complaining to Aniya as I grabbed another box from the back of the rental van we’d used to collect the contents of our lives from the air freight company at LAX after having our possessions flown in from Seattle.
“Because I’d hate to deprive you of the opportunity to complain about having to do some hard work yourself,” she replied, kissing me on the side of the face before shooting me one of those crooked little smile’s that she gives me when she’s poking fun at me. “That and it would have cost a small fortune to hire a company willing to drive the entire way from Seattle to Hollywood, unpack everything then drive all the way back again; I know we’re not exactly scraping the pennies, but that would be a ridiculous expense to waste money on…”
“Unlike the seven grand you spent on a mirror for the dining room, right?” I quipped back at her, though I can’t say I really cared about her doing that really. Money was no good hoarded away in the bank, you can’t take that shit with you so why not enjoy spending it? But I still had to make the comment, I couldn’t let her get away with winning another petty little jokey argument.
“That mirror is a work of art!” Aniya replied, doing her best to look offended even if I doubt she actually was. “It’s from the late eighteenth century, and worth every scent I paid for it...”
I couldn’t help but smirk; maybe I had scored points with that one after all, even if I assumed she would know I was joking. “Whatever you say babe,” I said as I handed a small box to her to take into the house. “Okay, so maybe hiring a company from Seattle would have been dumb, but we could have hired someone to pick the stuff up from the airport and bring it all into the house… we’re not even half way done and I’m ready to sleep…”
“Stop being such a grouch,” she said, winking as she turned and walked up the driveway towards the house, leaving me standing at the van.
I couldn’t help but stand there just staring as she wandered off; it made me think of the day we met, the story about how some creep at work had grabbed her ass and she’d ended up quitting her job. Told her myself right there in the bar that she had a great ass; who’d have known that I’d have even tapped it, let alone end up married to it. Chuckling to myself I turned back to the van and started to stack some boxes so I could hopefully do the unloading in a smaller number of trips… as an idea it was solid but in practice? Not so much.
Grabbing a stack of two larger boxes with a smaller one on top, I lifted and turned to head towards the house… quickly realising the flaw in my plan when I couldn’t see where the hell I was going and I tripped over the curb, managing to keep my balance, but the smaller box on top of the pile fell to the floor. “Woah, here bro, let me grab that for you,” a voice said from somewhere off to my right and I didn’t need to even look to know who it was. David… oh David. No. No, I wasn’t ready, I wasn’t prepared to bump into him that quickly, I wanted to do things on my own terms, play the new neighbour charm offensive with an introduction on his doorstep… and now I’d been robbed off that too, on top of being robbed of everything else that should be mine! I looked over at him, standing there holding a chocolate brown Labrador on the end of a leash, the loop of which he trapped under his foot so he could bend down and pick up the box. Hey big brother… looking well. Big fucking surprise; hard to look anything but when you’ve that much money, right? “You want to be careful bro, you’ll throw your back out if you try and do too much at once… believe me, I know that much from experience,” he told me with a grin… a grin that hadn’t changed in eleven years. There was no wonder he was liked but fucking everyone, he had a smile that somehow reassured anyone… it was enough to make you sick. “So you’re the guy who bought this place, huh? Well, you’ve got some big shoes to fill bro; John and his husband Dante were good people, they had a lot of neighbourhood spirit, so you know… no pressure,” he went on, still giving me that fucking smile. I swear, I wanted to punch him. It was a good job I had my hands full with the two boxes I was still holding.
“Thanks,” I said, a bead of sweat trickling down my face. I knew that it was just from the physical exertion of unpacking the van but I couldn’t help thinking about the irony of the situation; I was metaphorically sweating, worrying about whether David would recognise my voice, my face. It had been eleven years, we didn’t grow up together either so the sad truth was that I’ve probably been out of his life as long as I’ve been in it, if not longer, but the adrenaline was still flowing. If he recognised me, what would I do? I didn’t really have much of a plan anyway, other than I wanted to get what I was owed, it wasn’t as if I had a plan in place to make him pay up or get me the recognition I didn’t or whatever it was I was actually looking for… but if it all fell at the first hurdle, all because he’d caght me when my guard was down, it would be such a waste! “You mind?” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the house and he was all too happy to help; balancing the box in one hand, he grabbed up the mutt’s leash from the floor and followed me up the driveway. I dropped my boxes at the front door before taking the smaller one from him, which I put on top before turning to face my brother. “Thanks a lot man, appreciate the help,” I said as I offered him my hand.
“Don’t mention it bro,” he replied, grasping my hand in his and I almost laughed in his fucking face at the irony of his particular lexical choice.
“Jody,” I lied, reverting back to the name I’d gone by for that first year before regaining my memories. It just came out without even thinking about it. “Jody Nelson… and this,” I said, indicating to the doorway when I spotted Aniya walking out of the door in my peripherals, “is my wife Aniya.”
“Pleasure to meet you both,” he said as he took Aniya’s hand and shook that too. “I guess I’m the welcoming committee then… you’ve picked a great neighbourhood though, believe me on that. Like I said earlier, John and Dante were lovely people but we’re always happy to welcome newcomers into our little peaceful slice of the hills.”
“Honey, this is David,” I told Aniya and she shot me a look that probably didn’t seem all too strange for anyone else but I could tell what she meant by it; yes baby, that David. “He happened to be passing with his dog here when I dropped one of the boxes, only my Comic books, don’t give me that look!” I added when she laid the fake shock on pretty thick. “He lives next door,” I added, as if I didn’t already know that before he told me. “Seems we already bumped into the friendly neighbourhood Spider, huh? Or maybe Superman is more fitting”
I made it seem like the comment was off the cuff and making sure he heard that I owned comic books probably helped, but I chose that particular phrase carefully. “Well I’m very happy to meet you David,” Aniya said, shooting him a big smile. “Have you lived in the area long? We’ve moved from out of the state so don’t really know much about the neighbourhood but when I saw the photos online, I knew I had to get a better look and one short vacation later, we had to have it, didn’t we sweetheart?”
“Oh yeah, definitely!” I replied, smiling. And the smile was genuine too; as soon as I found out the house next door to David had gone up for sale, there wasn’t any other choice but to move!
“I moved here about three years ago now,” he told us, absent-mindedly patting the panting dog on its head as he spoke. “Been in the state longer, but I was out in Santa Barbara before coming here. I mean, it’s Mullholland, you know?” he said with a chuckle. “You live up here, you kind of feel like a rockstar no matter what you actually do for a living…”
“Well I’m definitely no rockstar,” I joked, pretending that I was happy to keep up the small talk. “But I did just take over a bar on Sunset, so maybe I’ll bump into the next Motley Crue or Skid Row up here and get to book them for a gig!”
“So that’s your business huh?” David asked me and the irritating thing is that he genuinely seemed interested! People, for the most part, bore the shit out of me; who gives a fuck about the lives of the worthless, you know? But here my brother was, one of the biggest names in the wrestling world, seriously interested in two complete strangers. It was sickening.
“Actually, not until recently,” Aniya told him. “Mostly internet start-up companies, health supplements and fitness products, but that was never the end game… this was always the dream, the big house in the hills, a project we could actually get our teeth into, something with more of a physical presence…”
“Self made then, huh?” David said, nodding his head. “I can get behind that, believe me. You’ll have to give me the name of the place and I’ll swing by some time. Always happy to check out a new watering hole.”
Aniya smiled pleasantly at him, and I could tell he was completely buying it. “Of course,” she said happily. “And I think neighbours should get a discount, what do you say Jody?”
“Oh, definitely,” I replied, nodding.
“Well, I should get Jersey here back home,” David said to us, tickling the dog behind the ear. Jersey? He called the dog fucking Jersey?! “But I’ve got some time to kill if you guys need a hand unpacking that van? The little one’s off with his mom today and I don’t think the wife has any plans; maybe I could grab the stove from the deck and sort out some food for when you’ve done?”
Little one… eldest… wife, clearly not with Kathryn still, if his phrasing was anything to go by. Sounds like he’d had a busy life while I’d been gone! “That’s great of you man, but we’ve got so much to do, not just unloading but unpacking. Rain check?” I said, trying to sound as friendly as I could while turning his offer down; I didn’t want David to think I was being hostile, just that we were busy.
“Yeah, Jody’s right,” Aniya added, flashing another award winning smile that any woman would be proud of and any guy slightly turned on by! My wife ladies and gents; what a woman! “But that would be lovely some time later this week, if the offer still stands? We just need a little time to make a house a home and process everything…”
“Understood, completely,” David replied, nodding his head. Smug bastard probably did understand too. “I’ve moved enough over the years to know what a pain in the ass it is, so I get it. If you need anything, just come give us a knock if you need anything, okay? If I’m not around, Regan – that’s my wife – probably will be,” he went on, and it was really starting to grate on me just how friendly and helpful he was.
“Appreciate it buddy,” I said, holding out my hand again and he clasped it firmly in his own, shaking my hand. Letting go, he shook hands with Aniya and then set off down the driveway with a wave, the dog trotting along at the side of him so obediently… of course it would, it was David Helms’ dog, it had to be perfect in every fucking way, didn’t it?! We watched him the whole way as he headed back to his house, only losing him when he went beyond the gate and I turned to Aniya, who’s eyes were bugging out at me. “So that’s the brother I’ve been berating all these years… isn’t he such a swell guy?” I asked sarcastically and she laughed a little before biting her lower lip.
“I dunno, he’s kind of cute,” she said, waiting for me to rise to the bait but I didn’t even move a muscle, other than to smirk. “Guess the Helms family got all the good genes, huh ‘Jody’?” she went on, placing heavy emphasis on the word Jody as she did so, another crooked little smile spreading across her face as she looked at me.
“I wouldn’t know about that babe, I’m a Nelson,” I said with a laugh.
“Then I guess the Nelson’s and the Helms’ have something in common then, don’t they?” she told me as she stepped up to me and kissed me. “I can’t believe he didn’t bat an eye lid when he saw you…”
“Well, a lot changes in eleven years, doesn’t it?” I said, shrugging before bending down to pick up the boxes. “He thinks I’m dead, came to terms with that a long time ago; it’s not like it’s the kind of thing to occur to someone, is it?” I added as I hefted the boxes up and carried them into the house to put them next to the others; we had way too much stuff, I often thought that, but it was only ever a problem when we were moving. I really should make an effort to throw away some of the crap.
“He seems like a nice person… you sure you want to fuck with him?” Aniya asked, but I could tell she was only half serious; the smirk on her face made it more than obvious that she was fucking with me to an extent.
I actually took a moment to think about it though; was I sure? He was my brother after all, and it wasn’t as if he was responsible for throwing me off of the back of that damn truck, to blame for me crashing into that river and ended up miles away from where I’d first hit the water… but then I thought about his perfect little life; a wife and kids, legendary status in a business that we once swore to crack together. Business interests coming out of the wazoo, a wrestling school, a record label. A private jet! Was I sure that I wanted a share of what was mine?! You’re damn fucking right I am! “I think eleven years of waiting to get what’s mine is more than enough time… don’t you?”
And it was… eleven years was more than enough time to dwell on how much you’ve missed out on, how much I’ve lost because of my dedication to my brother. What, I didn’t mention that? Ha. That’s the irony; I was only in that match in the first place because I wanted to avenge David after the guy I was facing hurt him in the same kind of match, left him out for a few months unable to compete. Talk about hero-worship… or a dumb notion of fucking family pride, one or the other. And how did he repay me? He forgot about me! He let me slip away, let me become little but memories; woe is fucking me, I lose my parents and my brother. Well I lost everything! I lost my memories, my identity, my fame, fortune, family, all gone because of him… and when I got the chance to get my own back? You can bet your ass I was going to take it!
[Rec]
“Do you know what a metaphor is?”
The voice cuts through the silence like a knife through butter, a disembodies voice in the darkness of the video, before a match suddenly strikes and we see the shadowy shape of a figure standing holding said match aloft. He holds it upside down for several short moments, watching the flame flicker and dance in the breeze before he suddenly throws it forward and flames roar to life in what appears to be a campfire. The increased light throws the figure into more shadows, but the dancing flames continue to illuminate portions of his face, their ghost dancing across his features as the fire licks at the night air.
“I ask that as a deadly serious question, because of the blatant stupidity of the average wrestling fan… do you actually know what a metaphor is, ladies and germs? I’ll spell it out for you: a metaphor is a word or phrase applied to an object or action that it isn’t actually applicable to… so my question is more than just a little relevant, given that this upcoming match, or it’s name in particular – Taking Hold Of The Flame – is in its self a metaphor for grabbing that golden opportunity, grabbing that shiny brass ring and dragging yourself up to the top. It’s a match that guarantees a main event spot in what people seem to see as the biggest match of the professional wrestling calendar. And that’s saying a lot, given the amount of bullshit wrestling companies run by tin pot despot’s, clamouring to be number one! But while I’m not one to dump praise on anyone or anything that isn’t associated with yours truly, given my history in the business – which I’ll get to, don’t worry – even I have to admit that this place has become something of an institution within the industry. A sort of Mecca for the great and good of professional wrestling… and while a certain brother of mine may be under the illusion that he can achieve competition with Supreme Championship Wrestling, at this point I don’t think that is actually possible. Sorry bro, just being realistic. And while I don’t give a fuck about the name value of the company per se, what I do care about is getting what I’m due myself… I’ve been floating around on twitter for weeks now, waiting for this opportunity, waiting for the chance to make a return that isn’t just overdue, but one that I’ve been building to for years! And just like my twitter handle says; It’s About The Name, ladies and gentlemen; some names command an instant amount of respect, whether people want to play up to them or not. My brother carved out his legendary status in this company, but for the most part he was a goody two shoes super hero to you unwashed masses that pay stupid amounts of money to watch us kick the crap out of each other. Me? While I admit, I’ve come to SCW because this companies name is huge in the industry, that’s not my lone motivation for making a return now, at this point. See, I think it’s about time I reclaimed what was once mine, what should have been mine over the last few years… my name is Jason Helms and unlike my brother, I’m not prepared to come here to be the nice guy around campus, I’m here to take what I’m owed!”
Stepping around the fire, with the flames now flickering behind him instead, the figure – Jason – throws back the hood of his top and his features come into focus properly. He looks into the camera for a few moments before continuing to speak, a cocky smirk spread across his face as he does so.
“That name probably means a lot to you douche bags, huh? David Helms, SCW’s Superman, the guy on the white charger who sweeps in to save the day… my brother’s a fucking idiot, you realise that? Oh, I love the guy, even if we had certain issues we had to iron out over the past few months, so don’t get me wrong and assume I’ve got a vendetta against the man you all know and love. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt as the saying goes. But he is an idiot, I’ll happily tell each and every one of you that, because for as long as he’s been a part of this business, he’s laboured under the illusion that what you dumb mother fucker’s are home think is actually important, that he has to impress you fat lazy bastards in the arena in order to get some sort of… what, affirmation? Validation? What a fucking waste of time and effort! Seriously, you think I stand here right now worrying about how offended you may be about what I’ve said? Hell, I’d rather worry about not offending you enough, because believe me man, your opinions are wasted on me, they really fucking are! I’m not my brother, I don’t seek your support, crave your adulation; I came here because as far as I’m concerned, this business owes me a lot more than what I got from it, and you only come to a place like this company because you want those big bucks, all those fucking zeroes on the end of that contract, am I right? Ah, what the fuck would you know anyway; the average wrestling fan hasn’t worked a fucking day in their lives, it takes too much effort to get off of the damn couch for that! But believe me, those zeroes really do help to ease a little of the pain I’ve felt over the years… a little anyway, though believe me, I’ll feel better still when I start winning gold and get those beautiful little bonuses that this company throws around like it’s candy…”
“But that works out great for me, because the more cash they want to throw at its talent, the more I’ll start to rake in when I do exactly what I know I’m going to, by claiming as much gold as possible! What, you think I had some sort of legitimate reason for coming here? Fuck you, what more reason is there for wanting to be part of a business that almost literally chews people up and spits them out when they stop being useful? Money, ladies and germs… it’s supposed to be the route of all evil but that’s complete bullshit; money makes the world go round and it’s the difference between being able to afford things and being on the streets! So people can say what they want about how money is a dreadful reason for motivation but if that’s the case then I’ll happily sit in my Hollywood hills home and chuckle at how dreadful I am, because I’d rather be a cunt and have piles of cash than a ‘nice’ person who doesn’t have two cents to rub together! But why here, that’s the question you’re all probably wondering, right? Why now, when you haven’t been seen in years? Well, actually if you have to ask that latter question then you don’t deserve to be asking questions because you’re a fucking moron, but the first one has a simple answer. Simply put, my ex-employers don’t exist anymore, the company went bust… so it’s not like I can just head back there. But, and more importantly, why the fuck would I want to go anywhere other than the company where people already know how much respect my surname commands, huh?! And that’s the other thing I’m talking about when I say I came here to get what I’m due, because I deserve more respect than I was ever given in this business and if I have to come to Dave’s home – sorry UWA, but this is his house – to get that then you can bet your fucking ass that that’s what I’m going to do! The Helms name means something around these parts but it’s slowly losing traction the more time that passes since Dave hung up the sneakers. Dave’s gone, his wife wrestles under her maiden name and AJ? Well, he’s a nice enough kid, but he’s never going to live up to that legacy now, is he? I mean, nice guys finish last and all that B.S and when all’s said and done, he only adopted the name but I was born with it!”
A smirk spreads across Jason’s face at his controversial comment before he quickly cracks his neck, first one side then the other, before continuing to speak.“So that’s the who, what, where, when and why dealt with… Jason Helms, returning to the business in SCW at Taking Hold of the Flame because I feel I deserve my damn payoff in terms of cash and respect, for those of you that are a little slow on the uptake… but at the same time, I’ve always felt that that particular little analytical question or whatever the fuck you want to call it was lacking a certain something, an official sixth tool if you want to call it that. And I know why it didn’t make the grade, it’s because it doesn’t begin with the same letter, which would probably drive someone with word-based OCD crazy but right now I think it’s especially important because it just fits this little diatribe of mine so perfectly. That word?”
Helms smirks as he leans into the camera a little.
“HOW!”
Jason slowly nods his head, chuckling to himself before he casually rubs the stubble on his chin for a moment as he appears to be in thought.
“It’s inevitable in things like this that you’ll end up with some douche bag talking about destiny, how divine intervention has bestowed upon them this great path to the promise land and that it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or does, they can’t be robbed of their moment… an there’s always going to be that annoyingly plucky fuck who just wants to ‘do their best’ or ‘make everyone proud’ as if that is going to somehow give them a boost when their number comes up and they run out to that ring. Newsflash, dorks, every mother fucker entering this thing wants to do their best, it’s called trying to win! Grow a fucking spine and admit that you’d probably sell your own grandmother for a shot at being in the main event of the biggest show on the planet, because I sure as fuck would and I know I’m not the only selfish asshole on the face of the planet! Then again, I’m not sure what the market value for a box is bones is these days so I guess it wouldn’t be that big a sacrifice for me, given she’s been dead for about thirty years… but metaphorically speaking you know what I’m getting at! And there’s that word again, isn’t it? Metaphor. And like I said, just the name of this over the top battle royal is a metaphor for seizing that opportunity, a throwback to Prometheus no doubt stealing fire from the gods at the top of mount Olympus… and that is why I’m entering this match, because I’ve come to steal that fire from under the nose of each and every ‘great’ wrestler that this company has to offer, to sneak in and take what they want for themselves while they’re spending their time in idleness, drinking their nectar and eating ambrosia… go read a text book if you’re too dumb to understand the reference. And unlike those unoriginal clichéd pricks that will talk about their destiny or their time or their plucky can do spirit, I’m going to make it very simple and very clear. I, Jason Helms, am willing to do anything and everything I can to steal that victory from under the noses of every hack on this roster! I’ll lie, cheat, hurt people, whatever it takes, because fate and destiny don’t mean a fucking thing, I’m just taking what I want from this company and whether I get it instantly or I have to work for it then so be it!”
Taking a final few steps toward the camera, Jason’s face is all that’s framed in the shot now, a flickering shimmer from the fire just visible behind him as he entire face is cast in shadows.
“Supreme Championship Wrestling might just be the biggest company on the face of the planet… and the name Helms may just go down in history in the annals of this company too thanks to my dear darling big bro. Who knows, maybe even his ‘kid’ will create another legacy for himself off of the back of our family name, but let me make things abundantly clear to each and every one of you. Dave’s time has gone, and AJ’s… well, he’s got a lot of work to do before he’s ready, but me? Well… I’ll let my actions do the speaking. But you better believe that I’ll be making damn fucking sure that people remember my name by the time the show is done…”
And with that, a chuckle escapes Jason’s throat as he simply turns and walks out of shot, the camera left to linger on the flames of the campfire in the background before the scene fades out.
