Nothing Worth It Is Ever Easy

[Gerard Angelo]

A Lump of Clay

The Bombardier Challenger 350 soared through the air at four hundred miles an hour, a white and gold blur to outside observers. Inside the private jet Gerard Angelo nurses a glass of scotch. He absentmindedly swirls the pale gold liquid in the glass as he stares out the window of the jet, the standard large ice cube nearly fully melted. After he had gotten the phone call from Kara’s mom he had made some calls and had his private jet prepared for a direct flight to New York, right after he fulfilled his obligations in Greenville. He mused over recent events in his life as he stared out the window at puffy, white, clouds; looking like a vast, pale, mountain range floating over the cities and towns of man.

Despite being told he was involved in some demigod’s war against the people and magical creatures of the earth, life continued pretty much business as usual. Working shows, flying between his homes in Los Angeles and Miami, then back to Greenville to work another show.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

The daily grind had started to become mundane for him. Sure, he still had his mission to change Pure Class Wrestling for the better. It is what still got him up in the morning at the crack of dawn to hit the gym, to stick to his strict diet, to watch countless hours of film on opponents a week, but what was the point when you weren’t making any headway? Since his master plans to align with Holden Ross and David Hunter last fall to secure his second consecutive Deadly Rumble victory, the entire group had hit wall after wall. Not only had Gerard been stopped short, twice, by Stormm in his quest to acquire the World championship; David and Holden had both lost the North American and Underground titles, respectively. How was anyone supposed to buy that you were a catalyst of change for the whole when you couldn’t even change yourself?

Gerard took a sip from the rocks glass, his pink tongue gliding over his lips, not letting any of the expensive single malt escape his taste buds. A break in the clouds allowed him a view of the lush green landscape of the East Coast. Things changed when Jonathan was in that car accident that left him unresponsive in a coma. It hit Gerry really hard. It’s well documented that he looked up to his former trainer and viewed him as the father he never had or should have had. Combined with his recent struggles, and that Hollywood had seemingly decided that it had squeezed all it could out of Gerard, he thought about hanging it up. The business was grueling and demanding. You needed to be dedicated if you wanted to be the best, and even then it could chew you up and spit you out. Kara talked him out of it in that hospital corridor those few months ago during a rare moment when Gerry let someone see him vulnerable, rather than throwing up the mask of cockiness and sarcasm he was so used to doing. He was ever thankful for that.

Kara.

The last time he had seen her he decided to go for broke with a kiss. Again. This time he wasn’t let down easy, and he fucked everything up. She blocked his number, and also blocked him across his various social media accounts. Hell, even tried to profusely apologize on Linkedin. Nothing worked. She was done with him. Theo won. Gerard lost. Lost like he had the majority of his PCW career. Gerard took another swallow of liquid gold from his glass, draining most of it before setting it down on the custom marble table next to his white leather seat. Maybe that’s why he was so resentful of guys like Grimm and Kyle Shane. Winning (and winning consistently) seemingly came naturally to them.

Gerard is interrupted from his thoughts by a feminine hand touching his shoulder. He looked down at the manicured, pale, hand contrasting against the black hoodie covering his shoulder. He looks up into the smiling freckled face and bright green eyes of his flight attendant Emily. Her dark red hair was pulled back into a single french braid that hung over her shoulder, popping off the background of her white uniform. With her free hand, she placed a fresh glass of scotch down on the marble table before taking the nearly empty one away.

“Thank you, Emily.” He said, shooting her a quick smile, wrapping his fingers around the glass, the large ice cube bobbing in the gilded liquid.

“You’re welcome, Mister Angelo.” She said in her high, melodic, voice before she sashayed away. Usually, Gerry would take this time to admire well-toned glutes in her white pencil skirt but today he went back to staring out the window, his index finger tapping a nail against the smooth rocks glass. His thoughts flittered between thinking about Kara and the tournament.

Gerard decided to deal with the news about Kara when the jet landed. He needed to clear his mind a bit, and just thinking about that would make it more cluttered than it already was. Gerry needed to be able to focus on the Icemann, too. He was in the tournament with three of the best in the business. Kyle Shane and Grimm were both household names already. What they have done has been listed countless times by everyone who covers the business and PCW itself. But they were facing each other. Gerard was facing his brother in arms, Holden Ross. While not as big of a name as the other three men in the tournament, Holden was one of the most dangerous men in Pure Class Wrestling today. A six-foot-five, over three hundred pound beast of a man, he was pure untapped potential. Flashes of that potential have been revealed, shown by his multiple reigns as the Underground King. Gerard thought he could be so much more. It’s one of the reasons Gerry aligned himself with David and Holden. They had the potential to be unstoppable forces in this company. David was more polished than Holden, but they were both like lumps of wet clay waiting to be molded. Unlike guys like Kyle Shane, Grimm, and Stormm, Gerard was going to give back to the business and help mold these two young wrestlers into the stars of tomorrow.

If Gerard got something out of it in the short term, well, just think of it as his commission.

Holden had all the tools. He had a look. Size. Explosiveness. Pedigree. If he could put it all together, he would be unstoppable. Gerard’s job as his mentor was to help him put it all together, but Holden had to want it. Holden had to want to become the best. He was starting to. He got the invitation to the Icemann. He crushed Brenna Gordon in the first round. Would Living a Legacy be where he puts it all together? Even if he did, he would find out that Gerard, while teaching him how to be a star, still had some personal tricks up his sleeve.

Gerard went way back with Holden’s dad, Frank Merrit. They first crossed paths in the Championship Wrestling Association. In Gerry’s opinion, Frank was one of the best big men of all time. Holden could be even better than his dad. He just had to want it. Gerard was gonna open every door he could for Holden. Holden just had to take that first step through the threshold.

Gerard is shaken from his deep thoughts again by another gentle nudge from Emily.

“Mister Angelo,” Emily says in her smooth voice, “Captain Matthews wanted to let you know we are about to begin the descent into Teterboro Airport.”

She smiled at him and Gerard lifted the glass of scotch up and downed it in two gulps. He handed the glass back to Emily.

“Thanks, Em.” He said with a smile, one that she returned and she turned and sauntered off. Gerard leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was to come.

Broken and Battered
What should be a half-hour, drive from Teterboro, New Jersey to New York-Presbyterian Hospital in Lower Manhattan took about an hour and twenty minutes with the traffic. Gerard’s Uber pulled up in front of the hospital. Before he got out, Gerard signed an autograph for the driver, George. Gerard shut the door of the green Ford Explorer, pulled his hood low before taking his Ray-Bands out of his hoodie pocket and slipped them on. He strode into the hospital, going up to the desk to ask where Kara DiMarco. Gerard got some good news that she had been moved from the intensive care unit to a room. He thanked the lady graciously before heading off for the elevator. Gerry fidgeted impatiently as the lift brought him up floor by floor as an anxious feeling took hold in his chest. It has been years since he’s seen Kara’s parents. Last he remembered, they weren’t too fond of him. Then again, her mom did call him, so maybe those icy feelings had melted a bit.

The elevator doors opened and Gerard stepped off. He looked left, then right, before turning on the heel of his retro Jordans, heading to left. 234, 235, he counted off the room numbers in his head before he got to 240. The door was closed over, but not completely shut. Gerard gathered himself for a second before he pushed the door open. He walked inside and saw two people sitting in chairs on either side of a bed containing Kara. His heart dropped when he saw her unconscious, fearing the worst until the woman on the left of the bed put a finger to her lips, indicating Kara was sleeping. Gerry breathed out a sigh of relief when the woman stood up. She was a tall woman, about five-eleven with the same blonde hair as Kara. Even in her fifties, she looked much younger and could pass off as Kara’s sister if you didn’t know any better. A Division-I volleyball player in her younger years, she still kept a good athletic form. The only stark difference between them, besides height, was that while Kara had baby blue eyes, the women’s eyes were pale green. She gracefully maneuvered herself over to Gerard, bringing him into a tight hug.

“Gerard,” she said in a hushed tone, “this is so terrible. I didn’t know who else to call.” Gerard could almost hear the tears welling up in her eyes. He didn’t know what to say so he just returned the hug. They stood there for a few moments until he found something to say.

“It’ll be okay, Megan,” he says, patting her back. “She’s been through worse. She’s the toughest girl I know.”

Megan breaks the hug and forces a smile, her green eyes still shimmering.

“Well, you’re right about that,” she says, wiping her eyes carefully with a finger, trying not to smudge her makeup too badly. Gerard nods and turns to the man still sitting in the chair. The man stands up and the fear from his late teens/early twenties comes back to him. He is shorter than his wife, at about five-eight, but with wide shoulders and massive arms, giving him almost a block shape. His tanned, bald, head glints in the florescent light of the hospital room, a decision prompted long ago by a losing battle with male pattern baldness. Gerry remembered the same Van Dyke style facial hair on his face once being a dark black, but it had slowly turned to salt and pepper over the years. A large belly now bulged out over his belt, but Gerard knew that those strong muscles of a powerlifter still resided underneath the thick layer of fat. Gerard extended his hand first and his former father-in-law grabbed it in his colossal paw. Even though it was just a handshake, Gerry could feel the power of the man behind it.

“Good, to see you again, Mister DiMarco,” Gerard said, looking into the blue eyes of the man, “even if it’s under awful circumstances.”

He shot him a look that let Gerry know he still remembers what Gerard did to his daughter. Mister DiMarco squeezed his hand hard, letting his former son-in-law know that even though he was pushing sixty, he was still not one to be messed with. Gerard stood his ground, even trying to squeeze back, but trying to get a grip on the huge mit was a challenge. This didn’t go unnoticed by Megan, who was quick to scold her husband.

“Frank,” she hissed through her pearly white at him, “Now is not the time for this!”

Frank looked at her, then at Gerard before releasing his hand.

“Nice to see you, Gerry”, Frank said in his gruff voice. He turned to look at his daughter sleeping and Gerard took this time to flex and shake out his hand. Megan gives him an apologetic look, but Gerry waves her off. He moves over to the bed now, on the opposite side of Frank, and looks down at Kara. What he saw made him furious and heartbroken at the same time. Kara’s face was almost unrecognizable. Her lips were swollen and broken. Both her eyes were black with one horribly swollen shut and puffy. Her nose was completely flattened and crooked at the same time. And this was just what Gerard could see as she had a blanket pulled up to her neck. Gerard bent over and gripped the rail on the side of the bed for support, his knees suddenly feeling weak. Gerard fought back tears of anguish and fury, feeling his body shake. They all stood there in silence until Gerard broke it.

“What happened?”, he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and measured. Frank looked down at the ground and clenched his cinderblock like fists, trying to keep his own rage in check. Megan cleared her throat.

“She was attacked in her apartment,” her mother said, trying to keep her own emotions from flowing out, “Shattered orbital bone, a broken nose, repeated facial trauma, a dislocated shoulder, a broken leg and arm, broken ribs, and internal bleeding. She also received another concussion.”

Gerard gripped the rail harder, his knuckles turning white. Thoughts raced through his head at Mach speed, mostly of finding whoever did this and doing unspeakable things to them. Who would do this to her, he wondered. Kara was a good, no, great person. She never did anything wrong to anyone. He’s torn from his thoughts by a knock at the door. Gerard looks up as two men in cheap suits enter the room. The one in the lead has his brown hair slicked back in heavy hair gel. A five o'clock shadow covers his face. The other man is African-American with short-cropped hair, graying at the temples, with a thick mustache. He’s a bit surprised but Frank and Megan aren’t. The one in the lead looks at Gerard as soon as he enters the room.

“Gerard Angelo?”, he asks. Gerry nods, still confused.

“I’m Detective Murphy,” He continues and gestures to the second man, “This is my partner, Detective Daniels. We heard you were coming and would like to ask you a few questions.”

Gerard shoots a look over at his ex-mother-in-law. She gives him a sheepish look and just shrugs. Gerard looks back at the detective and nods. Murphy makes a motion to follow him and leads him into the hallway. Daniels follows up the rear, shutting the thick, wooden, door behind him. Gerard looks between the two officers before crossing his arms over his chest.

“So what can I do for you gentlemen?”, Gerry asks, stepping back to lean against a cream-colored wall, “Am I a suspect?”

“Not at the moment,” Murphy says, “But you are her ex-husband. So that does make you a person of interest.”

Gerard fought the urge to roll his eyes but had a thought.

“Wait, you haven’t found out who did this yet?” He asked the two detectives incredulously. “It’s been days.”

“All part of the investigation, Mister Angelo,” Murphy said, pulling his smartphone out of a pocket. “We are doing our due diligence. So the first question is, where were you on the twenty-third of April around eleven PM?”

“I was at my house in L.A.”

“Do you have anyone that will corroborate your story?”

“Yeah. My housekeeper and my agent. I’ll give you both their numbers.”

The officers nod, and after a brief exchange of contact information, they get ready to wrap up.

“Well, Mister Angelo,” Murphy says, putting his phone away, “we will be in touch.”

They both go to walk away but Gerard stops them.

“Wait,” Gerry says, placing a hand on Murphy’s shoulder. “What actually happened to her?”

Murphy glances over at his partner and sighs.

“Well, she was attacked in her apartment around elven at night. There were no signs of forced entry so she must’ve known the assailant. Nothing seemed to be missing in the apartment and it wasn’t ransacked, so it seemed it was based around the attack. She was lucky a nosy neighbor was listening and reported a domestic disturbance. Or she might not have been so lucky.”

Gerard shifts uncomfortably before asking his next question.

“Was she….?” Gerard let his question tail off, not wanting to even put it out into the universe. Murphy, to his credit, catches on.

“There was no sign of sexual assault. She was just the victim of a pretty brutal beating.”

A wave of slight relief washed over Gerard. Gerard decides to ask one more question.

“Did you ask Kara anything? Does she know who did it?”
“If we knew who did it, we wouldn’t be asking you where you were,” Murphy says. “She has lapses in her memory. Whole chunks of that night were missing. The head trauma really did a number on her.”

“Alright,” Gerry says with a sigh, “Thank you, officers.”

They both nod.

“We’ll let you know if anything changes,” Murphy said before walking off. Daniels goes to follow him, but stops and turns to Gerry.

“Just want to say,” He says, leaning in, “The wife and I were huge fans of Miami PD.”

Gerard forces a smile and nods as Daniels turns and hurries to catch up with his partner. He uncrosses his arms and clasps them behind his head, letting out an exasperated breath. His mind went over people in his head that could have done something like this to Kara. Was it an old nemesis of theirs from wrestling? Was it someone trying to get to Gerry? He had done some pretty fucked up things to people at one point in his career, but most of them were either dead or bedridden. Then it suddenly hit Gerard. Where was Theo? Not here for his fiance in her most desperate time?

As Gerard was trying to fit the pieces together in his head, the door suddenly opened and Megan popped her blonde head out.

“Gerard! Come quick! She’s awake!”

Gerard shoved all his thoughts aside as he rushed back into the room. Kara was awake, the lesser damaged eye opened a crack. Her dainty hand gripped onto Frank’s much larger one.

“Kara,” Megan started, “Look who’s here to see you.”

Kara turned her head gingerly and Gerard quickly moved closer to her bedside.

“Gerry,” Kara said, her tattered lips curving slightly upwards into a smile, “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” Gerard managed to give her a smile.

“I had to drop by to see your beautiful face.” He said, trying to lighten the mood. This elicited a laugh from Kara, but it quickly turned into a wince of pain.

“Sorry.” He said lightly patting her thigh over the standard-issue hospital blanket.

“It’s fine,” she said, trying to give him another smile, “I needed a good laugh.”

Gerard smiled back before turning to her parents.

“Do you mind if I speak to Kara alone?”

Frank glowered at Gerard but Megan touched his arm. Frank sighed but nodded, standing up before Megan ushered him out of the room, closing the door behind them. Gerard turned back and looked at Kara.

“How you holding up, kid?”

“Aside from looking like a David Cronenberg character and feeling like I’m dying every time I breathe?” she asks him back. “Doing okay aside from that. The doctors said they have to wait for the swelling to go down a bit more before they can fix my face. They gave me a pretty sweet cast, though.”

She holds up her right arm to accentuate the hard cast before placing it back down next to her on the bed.

“I have one on my leg too. I’d show you, but I’ll probably pass out.”

“No, no,” Gerry says, patting her thigh again, “It’s okay. But the arm cast is pretty sweet.”

“Maybe you can sign it for me, you big star, you.” She says, cracking another slight smile.

“When I find a sharpie, I promise, I will.”

Kara gives him another smile, one which Gerard returns. They sit there a bit like this before things turn serious.

“Kara, you don’t have any idea who did this to you?”

She shakes her head as much as she can in her state.

“I can only remember bits and pieces from that night. The last thing I remember was a knock at the door, and when I woke up I was in the ICU.”

Gerard sees a tear welling up in her one working eyes, and it breaks his heart knowing how she must be feeling right now.

“I had another concussion, Gerard. You know the doctors said I can’t have any more brain trauma!” Kara said, starting to cry. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t have serious damage because of this.”

Gerard reaches out and holds her left hand in both of his, and she grips onto the bottom one.
“I just don’t know who would do something like this to me.” She says as a tear slides down her bruised cheek.

“Kara,” he says, gripping her hand a bit more firmly, being cautious not to hurt her, “If there is anything I can do. Anything at all. Please let me know.”

“You could go out and win that Icemann tournament thing you’re in.”

Gerard looked down at her, slightly surprised. After everything she was going through, she was still following his career. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised about that anymore, but she had bigger things to worry about than him. She looked up at his face, seeing his surprised look.

“What? I made my mom put Trauma on so I could listen to it. I heard them call you the king of battle royals.” She teased.

Well at least I’m the king of something, but it’s not keeping the ones I love safe, he thought.

“Maybe I am,” he said, “But you need to be the queen of rest so you can get better.”

She nodded, before laying her head on the pillow.

“You’re right, I’m gonna need my rest if I’m going to stay up on Sunday and watch you win the Icemann. I’m going to take a nap now.” She said before she started to doze off.

“You do that, kid,” Gerard said, patting her hand he was holding with his top hand, “I’ll be in town for a few days before flying out so I’ll come by every day to see you.”

Kara gave a slight smile and a short nod before she drifted off, her body exhausted from everything she endured. Gerard needed his rest, too, if he was going to attempt this feat. She had never asked him to win something before, and Gerard would be damned if he let her down in this time and place. Gerard would have to get through Holden in the semis before trying to overcome either a motivated Kyle Shane or an imposing Grimm. Nothing worth it is ever easy, though. And she was worth it.

Gerard gently placed her hand down, but something caught his eye. There was a tan line around her ring finger, where her engagement ring should be. So the attacker did steal something, he thought. Looks like those cops missed something.

That’s when it hit him.

He knew who did it.