Ol' Red Eyes

All year long, he’d begged and pleaded to go to King of Kings. And after mowing enough lawns, taking out enough trash, and earning enough good progress report cards, Mom and Dad finally caved, and the Hanlon family broke tradition to spend Christmas in Miami, Florida, in 2008.

Olivia was pissed. And Mom might as well have stayed home. But Dad reluctantly took his boys to see the PRIME roster take stage in the squared circle and even let Paul perform chaperone duties so he could plant his ass in an uncomfortable stadium seat at the American Airlines and drink a few overpriced beers.

A long outstanding dream come true.

And it was quite a show; a Merry Melee involving Jason Natas and a young Clayton Byrd kicked the night off, and Jason Snow had earned a spot in the finals of the Jewel in the Crown Tournament. Duke Williams and Hank Cobb took the Tag Titles from the legendary Team VIAGRA, Danny Ferguson bellowed “WHY!” as he battered his old friend, Chandler Tsonda, only to come up short, and Tyler Rayne would join the Tournament Finals but lost the Crown from his fingertips to the Original Villain.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, Dusk had come up short against Bryan Dawkins.

But Hayes waited patiently in the parking lot anyway.

He could see him over the heads of the crowd that had made way out of the arena; hopeful fans doing their best to earn high fives and autographs from the roster that bothered to do so. Even in defeat, The Lost Soul was always good about performing such duties. Hayes was growing into an ever-uncomfortable body at age thirteen, but his growth spurt over the summer wasn’t enough to fight his way to the edge of the row of eager PRIMEates.

“You might have better luck if you’d let go of that stupid doll,” said Paul, standing behind his younger brother.

“Or you could help,” Hayes replied with a roll of his dark eyes. He looked down at the stuffed toy in his hands. The Baby Dusk plush came complete with signature red eyes and a sewed-on trench coat. He’d dragged it to the arena all the way from West Linn, and he wasn’t about to leave without it receiving a signature.

Paul pressed a hand against his anxious brother’s shoulder. “Relax. I’m sure he’ll get to you.”

Hayes took a breath through his nose and watched as Dusk worked his way down the line. Autograph. Handshake. Photograph. Autograph. Autograph. High five. Closer with every greeting.

He reached the doll overhead, desperate to catch The Lost Soul’s attention. And then—

—he walked by.

“Dusk!” shouted Hayes, jumping up and down, waving the plush back and forth.

But no luck.

The Lost Soul threw up an arm to the crowd before making his escape, jogging away to find his rental car. Hayes, defeated, let his arm fall to his side, his shoulders drooping.

“Shit,” said Paul, placing his hands on his little brother's slumped shoulders. “Sorry, bro, he probably didn’t see you—”

“Whatever,” said Hayes, wrenching away from Paul’s hands.

“Hayes—”

Little Brother didn’t look back. Deflated, he let Baby Dusk fall to the ground before shoving his hands into his pockets, trudging back toward the arena to find his father, likely snoring in his stadium seat.

Paul sighed through his nose as the crowd started to disperse. Keeping one eye on Hayes, he reached to the ground to retrieve the plush. He examined the silly thing: its weird red eyes, its funny little boots, the squat little trench coat.

He tumbled it in his hands for a moment, then made way toward the arena to make sure Little Brother didn’t get lost.

“Is this guy ever gonna show up?”

Olivia replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, her heeled foot bouncing from a crossed leg. Hayes shifted uncomfortably in a faux-leather chair, checking his black dress shirt to make sure he hadn’t missed a button.

“What’s got you so hot and bothered?” she asked, her blue eyes more interested in the endless scrolling of reels.

“I mean, it’s kind of a big deal, right?” he replied with frustration, throwing his own hands. “The least he could do is show up on time.”

“You’re trying to get a brand deal with an energy drink company,” she said, eyes rolling. “What kind of guy are you expecting?”

Hayes rolled his own. “BarelyLegal Energy” was new in the energy drink game but making waves in their own edgy, suggestive way. Olivia had been on the hunt to keep her brother in the spotlight, and they’d been successful in capturing commercial and social media opportunities with a variety of wrestling-adjacent brands. BarelyLegal was, however, a potentially promising long-term possibility, and Younger Brother had been more invested than usual.

“Look,” she said, pulling away from her phone screen. “They saw your ad with Beaver Buzz and liked what they saw. I’m sure you’ll be a perfect fit for their target demographic.”

“And what market is that?”

“I dunno—”

She hinted to one of the 24-ounce cans perched on the corners of the desk in front of them.

“—teenage boys that like to chug 300 milligrams of caffeine and jerk off to beverage logos?”

Hayes cocked an eyebrow; the cartoon logo of a scantily clad and unrealistically voluptuous young woman hanging off a stripper pole was certainly a… choice. And kinda cringey. Still, it was a chance to attach himself to something with some real upside, financially and professionally. For whatever reason, Hayes was excited at the idea. Maybe he was starting to think outside of PRIME.

Maybe he just needed a win.

“You Hayes? You look like a ‘Hayes.’ You don’t look like an ‘Olivia.’”

A short, stocky, and seemingly wildly unathletic man burst into the office and forced Hayes and his sister to jolt upright in their seats.

“Yeaahhh…” said Olivia, glancing toward her brother. “Hi. Thanks for taking the time to—”

“Yeah, I’m Barry Legal,” he replied quickly, his eyes buried in an iPad as he nearly fell into the cheap leather chair on the other side of the desk. He was a strange combination of a man. He couldn’t be any older than Hayes, but a pair of wild, exhausted, near-bloodshot eyes and obvious male-pattern baldness betrayed him. He wore a black suit two sizes too large, the coat wide open with a sweaty white t-shirt underneath. He was equal parts young and wired, old and tired, and completely disheveled.

“It’s great to meet you, Mr. Legal,” said Hayes, leaning forward and extending a hand. Barry waved him off.

“I don’t shake hands, I don’t like the contact of it all, y’know? You’re the wrestler guy, right?”

Barry finally made eye contact; beady little blues darting between Hayes and his sister. Hayes sat back in his chair, fully caught off guard.

“Right??”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m Hayes Hanlon. I wrestle professionally for PRIME.”

“PRIME, yeahyeahyeah, I was up ‘til two in the morning watching clips on YouTube. What’s the network it’s on? Whattayacallit…”

Barry snapped his fingers three times at blinding speed. Olivia chimed in.

“The Ace Network,” she confirmed cautiously.

Barry snapped one more time, followed by a point of the finger.

“That’s the one. They any good? They big?”

“Um, yes,” she replied. “The Ace Network has a strong following of—”

He waved his hand erratically with a grimace, as if inconvenienced by her response.

“I don’t care. We’re goin’ fuckin’ nuts right now.”

Hayes and Olivia shrank back in their seats, fully unsure of how to proceed.

Barry shot his finger over to Hayes.

“You.”

Hayes perked up, fixing his posture.

“You’re the guy? You’re how I break into the wrestlin’ market and get these cans in the hands of all those sweaty nerds and hillbillies?”

“I uh… yeah. Yeah! I’m the guy! I’m a two-time Universal Chamio—”

Barry leapt from his seat, slapping his desk with a sharp smack.

“Did you hear me, kid?? I said CANS in HANDS!”

“I heard you! Cans in hands!”

“CANS IN HANDS!!!”

“CANS in HANDS!!”

“YOU’RE THE GUY?”

“I’M THE GUY!!”

When Barry didn’t respond with another caffeine-laced war cry, the room fell eerily quiet. Barry kept his eyes glued to Hayes and calmly sat back in his chair. The BarelyLegal CEO pondered, tapping his fingers against the desk.

“Then why do you suck?”

Olivia’s eyebrows rose; Hayes furrowed his brow, confused. The tone had shifted entirely. Barry Legal was suddenly a consummate professional, measured and deliberate.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Why. Do you suck.”

Hayes felt a squeeze in his chest. He hadn’t felt it in over a year.

Barry reached for his iPad when he didn’t receive a response, thumbing across the screen before reading out loud to the room.

“Fred Dick. Loss. Jason Snow and Nate Colton. Loss. Kenny Freeman. Win. Scott Hunter. Loss. Kerry Kuroyama…”

He set the iPad down.

“…loss.”

Hayes felt his heart race, the breath in his nose quicken.

“Those are your last five matches,” Barry stated. “So let me ask you again. Why do you suck.”

“Look, man, this stuff isn’t easy. I’ve had a hell of a career so far, and yeah, I’ve kinda hit a rough patch but—”

“BUT,” Barry interrupted. “But, if you could just get the right kinda support from a brand like ours, THAT will get you the momentum you need to be the top guy again, and BarelyLegal gets the FANTASTIC opportunity to be a part of it.”

Hayes, nor Olivia, had anything to add.

“Sound about right?”

The siblings looked to each other, at a complete loss, each hoping the other would provide more context before the other.

“Look, kid,” said Barry. “You’re not the only one with that kinda story. I get it from everywhere. Football, basketball, action sports, the fuckin’ slap-fighting shit. Everyone’s tryin’ to make a comeback.”

Barry studied the wordless Hayes, his fingers drumming away.

“But I can see it, though. You got the look. You got the talent. You got the vibe we’re lookin’ for…”

He took a breath and, in a huff, stood from his desk and collected his tablet.

“I dunno, I gotta think about it. Keep your phone charged.”

With far less erratic spasticity than when he’d walked in, Barry Legal of BarelyLegal Energy escaped the small office with his tablet tucked under one arm and his phone in hand in the other, onto the next call before the door closed behind him.

Hayes and Olivia sat quiet and shell-shocked.

“Think you could’ve chimed in a little more?” Hayes asked critically after many silent beats.

“Do you blame me for not?” she replied sincerely.

He couldn’t help but snort through his mustache. Even Olivia surrendered a laugh into her hands. He ran a hand through his hair as he steadied his breathing.

“I mean, I think it went well, though. Right?”

Olivia ran her own fingers through her auburn locks and shot him an amused and incredulous eye.

“I think it went really well!” he doubled down.

“Whateeeeever you say.”

Olivia studied her little brother from behind her latte.

In absolutely no rush to cross the border into West Virginia for ReVival 79, the pair hung back in BarelyLegal Energy’s hometown of Newark, New Jersey. Because of course it was.

At a small coffee spot in the city, the fall of the year in Newark betrayed its reputation. The siblings sat cozied up in hoodies, enjoying surprising fall colors from the random copses of trees throughout the city.

And Little Brother? He was oddly…

…focused?

The brooding, defeated, drunk, and hungover version of Hayes had seemed to take a break, at least for now. There were signs of life, of legitimate interest that had been vacant for a while. He sat comfortably at their outdoor table, checking his phone in between long, comfortable stares into Newark while sipping a coffee of his own.

And she didn’t buy it.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” she asked, breaking what used to be a lovely silence.

“Huh? I’m literally just sitting here!” he shot back, removing his sunglasses.

“I’m just confused,” she said, setting her coffee down and pulling her own shades off and setting them to the metal patio table. “You’ve been a brooding dickhead for well over a year, and now? When you actually have good reasons to be one, you start showing signs of life? Am I taking crazy pills?”

“I dunno, which drawer did you open this morning?”

She didn’t bite.

“You just got booked against Rose. The bitch who nearly ruined both of your ankles. Shouldn’t you be, like, frothing at the mouth for revenge or something?”

Hayes shrugged, hands tucked into the pockets of his gray hoodie.

“I dunno. I got to cash in my receipt weeks ago.”

“That was nothing compared to what she did to you.”

A nod from Younger Brother, and another shrug.

“Maybe not. But still, I got to put her on display. And I get to do it again in West Virginia. If there’s any revenge left to be had, I’ll do it then.”

Olivia shook her head with a frustrated breath through her nostrils.

“Okay, fine,” she said, throwing her palms up. “Fine. But what about Kerry Kuro—what’shisface? Your first match back for a title and you lost again.”

“I DQ’d myself. I didn’t lose.”

“Are you sure about that?”

A forced pause.

He’d resented the booking the moment he saw it posted. The battle with Kerry Kuroyama was hard-fought. They were incredibly similar opponents, really. Both opponents had walked in with their advantages; Kerry got to defend the title against someone coming off a potentially life-altering injury, and if defeated? Against a storied champion of PRIME. And Hayes? He walked in with the excuse of his injury, ready to go at the hip.

But the truth?

The truth…

Is that he got beat. Lost another opportunity to etch his name deeper into the stone walls of PRIME. And instead of accepting that defeat, he raked an eye, drove an arm into the Emerald Apex’s balls, and stomped on his ankle over and over for good measure.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t so visceral toward Rose. Maybe he got it out of his system at Kerry’s expense.

“Hayes?”

Back to reality.

“Are you sure?” ‘Liv asked.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay, fine,” she relented. “But don’t you fucking tell me that a brand deal with BarelyLegal Energy has created…”

She waggled her fingers in his direction.

“…whatever this is.”

“Why not?” he asked with a hint of frustration. “Why shouldn’t that excite me? This is what all the greats do! All the athletes I watched growing up ended up with big brand deals, and that helped keep them relevant. Tchu had a deal going with Monster! Why would a deal with BarelyLegal be so bad?”

Olivia sat back and crossed her arms. She sighed, shaking her head lightly before speaking through thin lips.

“If you’re so worried about staying relevant, I think you have bigger problems to think about.”

Hayes wanted desperately to respond, but the buzz of his phone stole his thunder. However, upon inspecting the number on the screen, he shot a wide-eyed look at Olivia.

“It’s Barry.”

She lifted her chin, telling him to answer, and he swiped the screen to pick up, setting it on speaker mode before placing it on the table.

“Hello, this is Hayes—”

“—Yeah, is this Chase? Harry?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s Hayes—”

“Hayes, that’s it. Yeah, it ain’t happening, kid.”

The abruptness of it all.

The rollercoaster.

The defeated feeling he had become all too familiar with over the last year and a half washed over him all at once. He glanced at Olivia; even she had to pinch the bridge of her nose, feeling her younger brother’s disappointment second-hand.

Hayes allowed himself to sigh, then leaned forward to speak into the phone.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I thought I had ‘the look,’ ‘the vibe.’”

“You do, kid. You do, but…”

Barry trailed off on the other end. They could hear him sigh heavily, followed by a “sonnova bitch…”

“Listen, kid, I don’t usually do this, but you want a little advice?”

The tone in Barry’s voice had shifted completely, just like it had in his office nearly a week prior. How anyone could toggle between Coked-Out-Energy-Lord and Blunt-Deliberate-Professional so quickly and easily would likely remain a mystery, but Hayes accepted his fate regardless.

“Sure,” he replied with the roll of his eyes. “Hit me.”

“This game is tough,” said Barry, measured in his tone through the speaker. “And you know the quickest way we can put ourselves outta business? It’s by repeating history.”

Sage words from an energy drink CEO.

“And it seems to me,” he continued, “that you’re a little hung up on the shit you’ve done, and you’re not payin’ enough attention to what you’re doin’, or what you can do.”

Once again, the siblings found themselves at a complete loss.

“Look, don’t lose my number or anything like that, but BarelyLegal needs to be attached to people doin’ it now, not the ones braggin’ about doin’ it then.”

The enlightened advice from such a source was… hard to take in. Olivia laughed through the side of her mouth, and Hayes wiped at his mustache.

“All right, I gotta get outta here, and remember, kid, CANS IN HANDS!”

Barry hung up, leaving Hayes and Olivia in a state of awe and confusion once again.

After a long, quiet, slightly awkward moment, Olivia decided to break the silence.

“Sorry, Hayes,” she said. “I should have tried—”

“It’s cool…” he interrupted, standing from his seat.

“…I have more receipts to cash in."

Believe it or not, Rose, I think I understand why you did what you did.

You nearly took it all away from me. And I should be mad. So fucking mad. I should have done so much more to you at ReVival 76. I should have really hurt you—showed you what it’s like to have it all taken away.

But I didn’t, because I think I understand.

It has to be hard to lose a dad.

And I don’t know how you two left it before he passed or how much of his career you watched when you were little.

But I watched it all. And maybe you know it better than anyone, but your dad was the ass end of the joke in the ReVolution Era—week in, week out. Dusk taking an L was a laugh shared by everyone on the roster.

And he deserved none of it.

And I know that might sound strange coming from me. I’m a lot of things, Rose, but I’m not a liar; there’s a reason why he’s in the Hall of Fame. There’s a reason why they still chant, “DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK!”

His win-loss record was nothing compared to what he did for this place. The Lost Soul was PRIME’s soul. No one worked harder. No one gave themselves so completely and entirely to this company quite like he did. I’m lucky I got to step into the ring with him before he left us.

And honestly, I feel lucky to do the same with you.

I hope you can see that one day.

But before then, you and I have just a few more loose strings to tie up. So please, bring your best.

Because I hope I get to see just a little bit more from him in you.

keep your eyes on the stars

they remain closer than you realize

Hayes pondered the text message from Phil from the edge of the bed in their Newark hotel. A suitcase full of clothing sat at his feet, alongside a duffel bag full of his gear.

Three sharp knocks at his door came expectedly, along with Big Sister’s voice.

“We take off in an hour! You gonna be ready?”

“Yeah!” he called back. “Gimme five and we’ll head out!”

The sounds of her feet stomping away were response enough, and Hayes glanced once more at the Humble Proprietor’s text.

And then, he reached for his duffel bag.

Unzipping it slowly and reaching into it carefully, lest he disturb the delicate organization of its contents, his hand found what it was looking for, tucked deep into a corner. Pulling his hand free then produced the treasure inside.

A doll.

A plush, squat, cartoonish thing. With funny red eyes. Short little boots. And a sewn-on trench coat.

He held it carefully in his hands, studying its worn stitching, examining the dirt and stains it had accumulated over the years.

A cherished memory of grand deeds done.

But not of what’s to come.

With one last longing glance, he slowly returned the treasure to its home in the duffel and zipped it closed.

Craig,

Consider this my love letter.

You deserved to have it all.