Here's Looking at You, Kid (1)
It was another long night at the office for Natalie. A young lady that once was a girl, 20-something then and 20-something now, who used to serve coffee until one o'clock in the morning while committed to a degree in something-or-another at NYU. Maybe it was English, or something in that area, because now she was an underpaid editor's assistant at Gold Publishing, Inc., in downtown New York, where people were far too busy to notice that this young mother had worked for six nights straight and hadn't seen her daughter for as many days; Travis Giles, father of the same girl and Natalie's ex, was on a temporary salary as a wrestler and paying for a teenage babysitter. Young, intelligent, and beautiful, just like Natalie. She was having a hard time concentrating. Almost everyone had gone home but she was voluntarily working longer hours in order to make ends meet. With student debt mounted and a partner who wasn't really her partner not making much either, things weren't easy. Giles insisted that Jessica got the best education money could buy; money that neither of them really had, but somehow they had made it work for a lot of years and, well, what was the point of giving up then? Stubborn but consistent Travis Giles had convinced Natalie it was worth it. Far from a romantic, Natalie couldn't help but notice, across the room, that a new employee, male, had been trying to catch her eye most of the day. He was working late, too, but Natalie suspected that he wasn't getting much work done given that he was constantly looking over to her side of the office. She noticed that she hadn't made much progress on the manuscript in front of her, either. She scolded herself quickly. She chanced another look across the room. He was getting up from his desk, on his way out or on his way over. Natalie tucked into her own desk and hunched over the manuscript. Determined. -- Giles. Travis Giles. T.A. Giles. Not quite an amateur, but far from a superstar. After a promising win in his debut GCW match, he had floundered – one loss, then another, then another. Hardly blamable losses: one against “Normal” John Johnson that was from an impressive victory for “Normal”; another in a battle royal that saw Giles face conspicuous disadvantages behind-the-scenes; and another where Giles, well, just didn't care if he won or not. For a supposedly self-honest and stoic personality, Giles was gaining a sense of entitlement that was far from aligned with his actual ability, and he was punishing himself for it in the gym. To be fair, his entrance into GCW hadn't been marked by favourable conditions in his personal life; the loss of a close friend, one who had made sure that Giles aspired to higher things. Frank. Giles had followed most of Frank's advice, but not all. Frank had advised him to not take on more responsibility until he knew he could handle it; he had told him to finish unfinished business before taking on more business. Transgressing this boundary, Giles was joining AWC against better judgment. Sure, he felt that he needed to redeem himself for such a poor showing in the Rampage contenders' battle royal. Zero to Hero presented that opportunity and at an opportune time: can't win one, win another. But really, Giles was getting ahead of himself. He sought immediate success. He wasn't experienced enough to know that it comes after hard work – work that he was capable of but hadn't quite shown. But he would learn. Danny Boyd. Young and impressionable. Good heart, strong body, sharp mind; very little in the way of guidance. Giles' old trainer, Frank, kept Danny under his wing up until the day that Frank took his own life. Convinced of his surrogate father's unshakable toughness and ability to deal with the immense pressure of the world, Danny had not taken the loss well. It was over a month since Frank's funeral, and by then things weren't getting any better. Giles could only be around so much. Other than him, Danny had no one; he had his band, but they had ideas about freedom and rock 'n roll culture. They were trying to keep it alive; whatever it may be. If Danny would have just stayed within that circle, things might not be so bad. A little drugs, a little alcohol, a little sex. Or maybe a lot. But, with a taste, lifestyles have a tendency of being carcinogenic. It grows, like a cancer, infecting every aspect of someone's life – the young, the weak. Those who lack guidance. Who cares?, thought Danny. It only affects me; no one else. Giles didn't care, or so he thought. What he didn't know is that he had pretty much hit the nail on the head: it would affect him the most, and in more ways than he could ever have feared. The disregard for his own worth wasn't without cause; the one person who validated him had committed an act with unparallelled finality: eliminating-his-own-map. The map, of course, being both Frank's actual self and his entire world, a world that Danny was a part of. Heck, Danny was that part. Frank's entire world. That's the backstory that Danny didn't have enough self-awareness to know about. He knew that he was affected by Frank's death, but not in the way that he actually was. It's one thing to change because you lost someone so close; it's another to completely go off the tracks. And off the tracks he was. Danny's hand shook as he took that foreign black object from his new “co-worker,” a guy that handled a 9mm with the kind of confidence that only a hired-hand would have. Danny tried to steady his hand as he tucked it in the back of his pants. The cold steel on the small of his back literally sent chills up his spine, but Danny held face in front of his new partner. The partner told Danny his name was Greg, but nothing this guy said could be taken at face value. Greg would say: that's my job. Danny thought over his instructions: keep quiet, head down, ears open. Follow my orders. So Jessica kept her thoughts to herself, mostly, and stuck by Taylor's side, never straying too far from her shadow. Jessica was starting to figure out high school life, sort of: an intricate web of drama and lies; a complicated game where the winners get the boy or girl and the losers keep to themselves. She recognized that it could change at any moment; knowing that, she kept her strategy simple: stick with someone who has status. That way, she could be upwardly mobile in the complex social hierarchy that defined her middle school. Given that her father was a wrestler and mother an editor's assistant, she hardly held a candle to the daughter of a local man who owned five car lots. Taylor was beginning to get close with this boy; let's call him Michael. Jessica played it cool and allowed her friend to dream the teenage girl's dream: wavy hair, cute smile. Classy, stylish; in a wor,d, cool. Today Taylor was talking about how Michael had talked to her after gym class, out in the hall, where everyone could see. Jessica could tell that Taylor loved the attention; not like Taylor wasn't familiar with it, but this was for a whole new reason. Michael was the cutest boy in the school and the 15-year-old Captain of the JV basketball squad. Far from impressed, Jessica was playing her part – listening to Taylor and edging her on. “Of course he likes you,” she would say with a flattering tone. Taylor was, surprisingly, incredulous. “You really think so, Jess? You're just saying that ...” “Come on. I bet that if you asked him to hang out, he would.” They giggled. Taylor blushed, then said, “Well, actually ...” She looked around and made sure that a group of girls nearby weren't listening. Taylor whispered, emphatically, into Jessica's ear. Jessica lost her usual expression. In place was one of uncertainty, but, if she were to play a supportive role in Taylor's new game, she was certain with what she had to do. Tonight, they were meeting the 15-year-old and his friends. After laughing about the way that their boss “flies in on her broom every morning to give orders,” Natalie took advantage of an awkward moment to say, “You know ... I don't really do things like this.” Stephen smiled, charmingly, then said, “I noticed.” Natalie couldn't help but give a trademark eye-smile, but she continued to fidget with her food, then said, “Really, Steve, this has been fun, but I need to get home to my daughter.” The babysitter was only available until eleven. And mother and daughter had been apart for far too long. “Don't worry about him. He's a virgin.” Danny tried to laugh along but his facial muscles weren't responding. As a kid, he never imagined himself in this situation. He was in an empty warehouse with a circle of tough guys who were making a deal that he didn't know very much about. He gulped. The gun still felt cold against his bare skin. He hoped that he didn't need it; things were going smoothly, so far. Greg seemed to be the one in charge, but Danny doubted that it was his money being handed over. Or at least Danny thought it was money; there were briefcases, but Danny wasn't high enough in the pecking order to know what was in any of them. All he knew was that in order for a briefcase to be protected by five bad-looking men, it ought to have something worth protecting in it. Something worth fighting over. A gunfight, perhaps. He gulped again. He neglected to tell Greg that he had never operated a gun before, and if it came to that, he's not sure what he would do. Pull the trigger, he guessed, as if it were as simple as brushing his teeth in the morning. The truth is, Danny had no idea what he was getting into, and if he did, then he had no idea how he was about to get out. Against all narrative odds, the transaction went smoothly; nobody was shot, nobody held a knife to another guy's throat. The goods were received in perfect condition; the money was clean and blood-free, but only literally. “See, kid? Easy as pie. Here's your share.” Greg seemed a lot cooler when he was handing Danny a bigger wad of cash than he had ever seen working for his Uncle or playing gigs at a local bar. Still slightly nervous, Danny choked a bit while trying to laugh and the rest of the crew laughed at him. “Still a bit scared, I see,” one of them prodded. “Yeah, does anyone want to check his pants?” Danny laughed along and, though reluctant, put his earned money into his pocket. A voice inside of his head told him that things wouldn't always go this well, but he repressed the thought. He caught up with Greg and had a hand planted firmly on his shoulder. “Hey Kandace.” Kandace jumped, slightly scared, but then recovered by saying, “Hi, Ms. Giles.” Natalie laughed. “It's actually ...” she hesitated. “Nevermind.” Kandace let it go and got up off the couch, heading for the kitchen. “Well, Jessica's already in bed.” Natalie smiled. “Alright ... thank you so much, Kandace. I really appreciate all the work you've been doing for us lately ...” Kandace waved it off. “Don't worry about it. Nothing else to do, anyway.” “Well, you better get home. Don't you have school in the morning?” Kandace smiled, slyly. “When did that ever stop a teenage girl from being out late?” Natalie didn't respond. She was once 17. The babysitter headed for the door. “Goodnight, Ms. Giles.” “Goodnight ... thanks again.” Natalie took off her jacket and headed for Jessica's room. Natalie was proud of herself for being out a bit late, having a bit of fun. It had been a while since she had done anything social other than work and parenting. She opened Jessica's door. The window was open and the bed was empty. Natalie, in a panic, rushed to the window and yelled her name. Kandace was already gone. He was getting off the plane after being in San Fransisco for the weekend. It was raining when he got to New York; fitting, he thought, after being in sun for a few days. He had signed a contract to wrestle in Atlantic Wrestling Club – a promotion that he had heard about but only considered signing with when he heard that his old boss was also going to be there. Once he was in the terminal, Giles turned his phone back on. 6 missed calls. He frowned suspiciously, then called his voice-mail. The first message was a familiar but unrecognizable voice. It was one of Danny's friends, Giles thought, and the friend was worried about Danny and wanted Giles to help. Not just want; it was a plea. Giles quickly became worried as well; what could Danny have gotten himself into? It was worse because he was partially to blame. The phone started ringing as Giles was about to call back Danny's friend. It was Natalie. Couldn't it wait?, he thought. It couldn't. Natalie was crying. Sobbing. Jessica, Jessica, Jessica ... she ... I came home and ... the babysitter ... she's gone ... I don't know what to ... what to do. Travis, Travis, Travis. “Natalie, calm down ... talk me through this ... what's going on?” She's gone. “She? Who?” Your daughter! Great. If he would have known the circumstances, Giles might not be in that much of a rush. If he would have known that Jessica was just acting like the normal teenager that she had never acted like, he might not have hurried home. If he would have known that, he might not have sped home. If he wouldn't have sped, then he might not have run his car off the road and suffered a minor concussion. But he did, and even though Jessica ended up being alright, Giles was in no condition to be a responsible father. “What the hell do you think you were doing running around with those guys?” He was angry. Visibly. Natalie was upset, but not angry. She tried to calm him down, but nothing was working. “Would you shut up, for once? I'm trying to talk some sense into her. Jessica! You've never done something like this. Why start now?” ... No answer. “Don't you have anything to say for yourself?” Jessica slammed her door and left her father, in all his balled-up fury, talking to the door. Giles was hanging up a new boxing bag when Frank walked in with a young kid, maybe 10, who had a brand new pair of bright red boxing gloves on. The boy was positively delighted. Frank's eyes lit up he was smiling so much. “This is my nephew, Danny. Say hello to Travis, kid.” But ten-year-old Danny didn't have time for introductions. He went straight at the punching bag and began lobbing fists into it with all his might. Frank was beaming. Giles hadn't smiled like that in years. Neither of them had. Sensing this, Frank said, “That kid is going to be somebody one day.” And that kid just kept punching the bag until he couldn't punch anymore. 1) The eliminating-your-own-map metaphor is taken from Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, but only because it's the best possible metaphor for suicide.
--
“Just keep your head down, mouth shut. Stay alert. If things get out of hand, you step in. That's your job. Understand? ... Good. Here, take this. Ya never know when it might come in handy.”
--
Jessica Giles. Only 13. Shy and impressionable. One of the brightest girls in her class but afraid to show it. She went to a private school with her best friend, Taylor, a popular girl with parents that thought higher of Taylor than Jessica's parents ever did. Giles was all about modesty; Natalie was about integrity.
--
It had been a couple of hours since Natalie had looked at her manuscript; it sat on the same page with the same markings. Natalie's attention was elsewhere because she was having takeout with the new guy. The young, cute one. Natalie would say that she wasn't one for this kind of thing, and she wasn't, but she would also admit that she has her moments of weakness. This flight of fancy was one of them. This guy, let's call him “Stephen,” was younger than Natalie. But he was cute. And a good kisser. He even paid for their takeout; this felt like Natalie's first date since her and Giles had broke it off.
--
“A little bit nervous, are we, rookie?”
--
Natalie closed the door behind her and sighed. Her house was still and quiet; Jessica, it seemed, had already gone to bed. The babysitter was watching TV in the living room.
--
It's not that long of a flight from LAX to JFK, but long enough to think about how good or bad things are in your life. Giles was doing that. Self-reflection, he thought, was good for his career. It hadn't worked so far, but he figured that it was a long-term commitment and long-term results. In theory.
--
It was 1999. Giles hadn't been in the city, long, and he was working for a local gym. His new friend, Frank, had taken the morning off to attend to some family business.
Acknowledgements:
2) The title of this roleplay is the famous phrase from Casablanca, but the Gaslight Anthem's song of the same name inspired me to use it.
Back