The Bet

Ahhhhh, merde.

Heh, the boys, they sussed out the truth. I, FLAMBERGE, Mr. Sex of the TV, was the man of the mystery.

Perhaps this mystery, it was the errand of the fool - ah, these are perhaps the penalties of having the little bit of the fun. We toyed with a dinner that was not so joyeux to be eaten by the Glue Boiz, and ope - the dinner, it slipped off the plate and has since achieved that which WE desire - becoming the PRIME Tag Team Champions.

Well, a lesson to be learned - or perhaps relearned, as Hayes and I have each committed this same error in our own separate paths; we became too arrogant, became so sure of the win, and then the goofing which becomes the downfall.

Is the lesson to not be so sure of ourselves?

Non. To doubt oneself in Glue is to begin a journey down a path where we would lose everything - we are built on the very backs of Phil Atken and his belief in who and what should define the present and future of professional wrestling…for a young and new team to beat us, if anything, proves his message and his goals will have the long lifespan. But no, c’est ne pas un setback. C’est le reminder.

No matter the coat of paint the world may see, the Glue Friends stick together.

This is how we have always dominated, and this is how we will dominate once again.

We will simply look better doing it than ever before. And no team in PRIME will have the luxury of facing a half-open Glue Factory ever again.

The machines are on, the machinists are sexy as hell, and Hank help you all as we choke you through the doors.

…

—--

After ReVival 90.

Welp.

There they were.

Two Hall of Famers. Former Universal Champions. The Holders of Many Very Shiny Belts who walked into PPG Paints Arena with every expectation to run the bases and take the PRIME tag division by obvious storm. AND debut a new and improved sexual aura to boot.

Only…to lose.

Record scratch.

Yeah that’s us. I guess you’re wondering how we got in this situation.

That was not the plan. Obviously.

But Hayes wasn’t going to let all of Julien’s body-glitter go to waste. “5801” was a, diverse little spot in Pittsburgh that would hopefully do the trick. Nothing over the top. He didn’t want to throw Jules into the deep end just yet. They had wounds to lick.

And Hayes had questions.

“Sorry your coming out party got pissed on,” said Hayes, taking a sip from a martini as the two sat in a smaller corner booth. FLAMBERGE had a tall glass of pink bubbles, a well-tailored blazer, and teal and copper sparkles across his chest to the base of his neck.

“Eh, for me, this is the nothing new. I started in PRIME as the 33rd man hired during a 32-wrestler tournament, and then I lost my debut to a name that has fallen into pure obscurity and anachronism,” responded FLAMBO before taking a sip. “The arc of history is long and bends towards Glue, and you and I are handsome as hell, non?”

FLAMBO goes to clink glasses with the Event Horizon, who raises an eyebrow as he meets the cheersing. The boys take a sip. FLAMBO winks in the general direction away from the booth - though it’s hard to tell if this is directed at an individual or any specific thing at all.

“Well, I guess I’m curious,” said Hayes, setting his glass down. “Tell me. Where did all–

He gestured generally at his French brethren with a loose hand.

“--this come from?”

FLAMBERGE chuckles.

“Ouais, well - this may be the secret to you, but I have this tendency to, how you say, live in my head quite a lot.”

Hayes blinks slowly, as everyone in PRIME is so very aware of this fact, and a part of him wonders if the Frenchman realizes this is the origin of everyone treating him like a lizard person.

“There is the madness in this type of lifestyle, and it can be very attractive to dive in that inward ocean and live there forever…mais, the truth is, there was next to no joy in it. The Cecilworth then announces the contest with the Dirk Dickwood’s backing, and maybe he just does this to cheer me up or maybe this was the unexpected surprise, but the people spoke up to let me know that I am the damn sexy and I should know this.”

He blinks a few times - normal, human blinks that don’t go slowly left close-right close-left open-right open - and sighs.

“All this time, I slowly eat myself alive in my mind, chasing these trophies and these rings and these goalposts I cannot help but move, and in chasing these desires I consumed so much of what it was to actually be Julien Lavigne - the Julien that is Julia’s son, who knows the coziest places in Strasbourg, but then has the other side, you know? The sexy side which seeks the exploration…”

FLAMBO lowers a pair of yellow plastic sunglasses from his forehead down to his eyes as he raises the sparkling rosé to his lips.

“...if you know what I mean.”

FLAMBERGE takes a sip and giggles, thinking it was a pretty silly joke. Hayes is cool as ever, non-reactive, as this is not new information to him nor anyone in the Glueminati nor anyone in PRIME who has been paying attention.

“So I think, it is time for the change, and to truly do change is to be big about it. But you must know about this too, non?”

FLAMBERGE may have been thinking about Hanlon turning on Jared Sykes those years ago, or maybe his own leaning into being Publicly Hot On Purpose these days; Hayes has slightly misunderstood the question.

“Nah, I'm a straight dude. But, y’know. You spend as much time in the night life as I do you find yourself in some…interesting situations. I'm not shy. I'll give you an example: back when PRIME reopened I was rolling pretty hard one night and found myself with this couple who wanted to show me around while we were tripping balls.”

FLAMBERGE raises both eyebrows at this - this is the type of tea the Glue Boiz rarely spill with each other. He was not necessarily planning on a threesome deep dive, but he was here for it.

Hayes continued.

“Woke up in bed with them on either side of me. And trust me, dude. Things can get way more interesting.”

FLAMBERGE had always thought Hayes was an incredibly attractive man, but he never knew much about his private life. He imagined any number of scenarios for the way Hayes lived his life - Hanlon’s proclivity for gin and the tightness of his mustache could just as easily swing anywhere across the scale between Freddy Mercury and Divorced Cop.

It was clear that there was more there to discuss. More there to learn, even.

“I think there is more there to discuss, Hayes. More there to learn, even.”

“Learn?”

“Ouais, learn, Mssr. Mustache - tell me how you find yourself in these situations so commonly?”

Hayes takes a sip from his glass - it’s like he’s been waiting for Julien to ask for him to be his Nightlife Sherpa, his Professor of Clubonomics, all night. He had the speech ready, but made sure to give it a natural delivery.

“I guess it depends on what you wanna get out of it. If you're looking for love, Jules, I am NOT your guy. But, you wanna experiment, get a little weird, see what all these beautiful people have to offer, then yeah. We can wingman each other for sure.”

Wingmen, Hayes called it; an honestly very friendly way of putting them on equal footing, even as Hayes was in several ways FLAMBERGE’s senior.

…

—--

Boy, is this a sexy as hell division of wrestlers.

But none of these fuckers were named TV’s Mr. Sex by PRIME Presents Dirk Dickwood Presents The Big Bangable Bash, Sponsored Weirdly By Red Bull And Emceed By The Longest-Reigning Universal Champion Of All Time Cecilworth Farthington, were they?

What incredibly brutal timing for every other wrestler who fanciest themselves a good fucking looking person. Half their appeal has been made obsolete, and that’s before adding the unreplicatable appeal of Hayes Hanlon to the mix.

So the other half of their appeal must come from their wrestling. Tough breaks again, all around. Especially for the likes of the Pop Culture Phenoms.

Elise Ares was molded by the gods to be the object of the world’s desire, or so we once thought before the emergence of TV’s Mr. Sex.

The D is called The D for many reasons, some of which you may have guessed and I can assure you from sharing locker rooms that they are true, but of what significance could this possibly carry anymore after the emergence of TV’s Mr. Sex?

Ah, ouais, you can call this just talk if you’re blissfully unaware. I’ve collected many necks before you came to PRIME, and I’ll collect many more after you’re forced to retire from not being sexy enough to be the sexiest gimmick competing for the Sex Team Championships. Aging, she is the bitch.

Et, woof - the, what is it? The Them Bastard Roughnecks - decidedly going in the other direction, vis a vis trying to look good. And you know what? Respect for knowing your strengths and your not strengths and not even trying to be physically attractive in any way, shape, or form. There is something less heartbreaking about PRIME’s tag division for a team like yours, who has no hope of having anyone pine for you and has no expectation of it, versus the PCP who will try and try so very hard, only to miss the podium, surpassed by the younger and the hotter, such as the Glue Boiz and the Foot Soldiers.

And, don’t get it twisted - the Foot Soldiers are sexy. So sexy, in fact, that they may be Hayes and I’s one true competition in this area in all of PRIME.

The Foot Soldiers have proven an adage as old as PRIME itself to be true, which is that on any given night, anyone can beat anyone on the roster - it’s because when your roster is the very best in the world, this sort of thing can happen. Once. Ask them if they are ready for that rematch, and you’ll get a very incorrectly confident “yes” that will fail to bury the fear that would punch through anyone’s guts, the fear that comes when you’ve been challenged to defeat two Hall of Famers twice, and for higher stakes. 

Don’t ask anyone to be that good.

…

—--

Drinks had resumed flowing and before long, they weren’t just coming in from their own orders - something about Hayes and FLAMBO’s magnetism was beginning to cause drinks to be sent over from other parties. Some of them were clearly wrestling fans shocked to see two PRIME greats in their go-to club; some were clearly flirtatious in intention. All of them were good for getting the Glue Boiz drunk.

“I'll say this; you've always been a showy dude in the ring. The sick entrance outfits, all of that. If you're feeling yourself the most in body glitter and lip balm, then send it. But it can't hurt to ease into it a little.”

“Ease into it?”

“Learn how to talk to pretty strangers, read body language, that kinda stuff.”

“Ouais, I think I know how to talk to pretty strangers, sir.”

“Oh yeah? Who sent you that tequila sunrise you’re sipping right now?”

FLAMBERGE scanned the scene, because now that Hayes mentioned it, he had only pretended to see who had purchased it earlier after the server stopped by; he was too tipsy and too interested in learning more about whether or not Hayes was a male unicorn for married couples or if it was something else entirely.

Finally, he locked eyes with someone sitting at the bar who raised a tequila sunrise of their own in FLAMBO’s direction - definitely a pretty stranger. Not normally the Frenchman’s type, but he had made a whole show about the idea of exploration earlier that he knew this might be a bullet he’d have to bite - and who knows? This was an objectively attractive person who had bought him a cocktail.

“That one,” FLAMBO replied as he nodded his head towards the stranger at the bar.

“Ahh, really? Let’s act it out. Pretend I’m them. I just bought you that there citrussy panty-dropper. Go.”

FLAMBO glanced back over to the stranger at the bar - or where he thought they were. There were too many people in the way, blocking the view. He turned back to Hanlon.

“Ah, hello there, thank you for the dr-”

Hayes let out a loud buzzer sound.

“BZZZZZT! Wrong. Try again.”

FLAMBO chuckled at this before collecting himself. He took a little breath and composed his face, doing his best to convey a sense of charm and mystery.

“Ah, bonjour, ma cherie, je m’app-”

“BZZZZZT! Wrong. Try again.”

“You did not even let me finish!”

“That’s two strikes, Julien, one more and I’m going to have to call you out.”

FLAMBERGE took a moment to think, and to drink, which blurred the thinking, which led to more drinking. Was he really that bad at talking to pretty strangers? Hayes seemed to think so - and after all, who better to listen to on a night like tonight than the man who just agreed to take him under his Nightclub Learning Tree?

Surely, there was an obvious answer, something he was missing. FLAMBO wracked and wracked his brain, but couldn’t come up with it. Hayes grinned, leaned forward, and began to speak.

“You f-”

“Hang on hang on hang on hang on, hang on. Please. I can do this.”

“-fffuhhh, k. Ok, go for it, man.”

Hayes slumped a bit back in his seat, continuing to watch his French ward.

“You. Come with me. Dance floor.”

“Better, but still incorrect. Good try at the end, I like the confidence - but you’re still not easing into it.”

“That is the second time you have said this,” replied Lavigne. “What is this ‘ease in a little,’ always this ‘ease in,’ tell me, Mssr. Easer, how would you ease?”

The sea of bodies between the corner booth and the bar thins enough where FLAMBERGE has a clear line of sight - the stool where the pretty stranger had been sitting was now empty. FLAMBO’s heart half-sunk for a second, until his attention was quickly brought back to Hanlon.

“You’re in a position of power, kid. Someone sends over a drink like that, that’s someone saying they’ve taken a shining to you - whether that attraction is there the other way around, who’s to say?”

“Ouais, but I could say. I could say right now, ouais, this is a pretty stranger.”

“Well they don’t know you think that way, do they? You have all the cards right now. You’re the one with the power to say no. You’re the one getting wooed, or at least hit on. Let them come to you. Let them be the one to shoot their shot at you. You’re a Lizard King on a sexy throne, and any stranger who thinks they are worthy of you better show you their worth first.”

The Frenchman was stunned at this - sit back? Wait for them to come to you? It all felt very passive - but again, this was a man with experience with this sort of thing. FLAMBO hasn’t had that true feeling of being swept off his feet, even in the recent nighttime encounters he’d had in Mexico (in fact, he found that experience to leave him feeling a bit empty, and if anything it drew young Julien even more strongly towards the wise words of Hayes.)

FLAMBO looked back through towards the bar - the seat was still empty. In some ways, this made the decision easy for him, and he could even play it off like he didn’t have the tipsy urge to bolt out of his seat, find the pretty stranger, and shoot the shot himself.

“Alright, Mssr. Mustache - the bet.”

Hayes chuckled. “The bet,” he repeated to himself. So many unnecessary “the”s from this guy.

Their conversation flowed to other topics related to interesting club experiences and favorite drinks - until, about ten minutes later, the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Er-hem.”

Hayes and Julien paused their conversation and turned towards the speaker at the same time.

It was the pretty stranger.

“Mind if I tell you how gorgeous you are?” said the stranger, leaning across the table and locking eyes with Julien.

Hayes gave Julien a little punch on the shoulder and scooted out of the booth, to Julien’s brief surprise as he realized he was right.

The Frenchman looked into the strangers eyes.

“Go on.”

…

—--

Yes, to be truly sexy is to know your power.

I thought I knew. We both probably thought we knew, and sometimes when you are so sure you know something, you forget that your power can lie in many places.

We, FLAMlon, are powerful because we are Glue.

We, FLAMlon, are powerful because we are friends.

We, FLAMlon, are powerful because we are handsome as shit.

But there is more to it than that, and it grows all the time. It changes all the time, the things that make us great and unique and skilled and multidimensional as we move through this life.

And in our power, we know when to strike, and we know when to wait.

When the time comes, the next Tequila Sunrise that comes sliding across the bar might be the PRIME tag team championships, and they might come sliding across the bar from any number of mysterious strangers who want to shoot their shot at the world’s sexiest tag team.

Perhaps they will be worthy.

We have the power to say no.