Post by Old Line Jeff on Dec 27, 2020 0:48:09 GMT -5
"I guess this is happening after all."
Jeff Andrews clicked his phone off, pocketed it, and turned to look at Cole Christenson.
"This is your show Jeff. I'm just here because I feel bad for letting all the kids in A*P down."
Jeff Andrews is a burly, scruffy-bearded bald guy in jeans, a leather jacket and a John Deere trucker's cap. Cole Christenson is a giant of a human being, the kind of quietly dignified person who can make a seafoam green T-shirt and jeans look like a tuxedo, the widow's peak in his platinum blond hair only makes him look more dignified, and muscles out of an anatomy book.
Jeff Andrews likes rye whiskey, Cole Christenson likes turkish coffee.
Jeff Andrews likes hard rock from the mid 90s, Cole Christenson prefers classical.
Cole Christenson's idea of a good time is to go with his friends to an expensive restaurant, Jeff Andrews' idea of a good time is getting drunk and driving a tractor.
There's really not too much the two guys have in common, but there used to be one big thing. Her name was Heidi Christenson. She was... well, still is, Cole's older sister, and she was Jeff Andrews' girlfriend for about 20 years. She's gone now though. It wasn't until she left that Cole could look at Jeff without his blood boiling.
"Well, I just got off the phone with Gus Arnold. Our boys are booked against Spin Cycle."
"Spin Cycle..." Cole took his own phone out, began tapping at the screen.
"So you're really alright with the plan so far?"
"I am. Jeffrey and Lee..." Cole let out the shortest chuckle imaginable. "They're ebullient, and they've at least got a couple years of experience. At this point in their careers, barring catastrophe they'll bounce back from a lot."
"Funny thing about them, they really do remind me of me and Kai from back in the really, really early days. Sometimes, I almost wanna say, less raw talent..." Jeff glanced at Cole, looking for a reaction, was rewarded with a small sigh. "Then I remember what it was like to have that kind of mobility and spring in my knees, and remember being training in Mexico in the 90s and Cito telling me I was too tall and skinny to do a shooting star press. Too tall and fucking skinny." Andrews rolled his shoulders back, then poked his belly. "Fuck the passage of time and the existence of the carbohydrates that make burritos so delicious."
"Remember, I'm the 300 pounder that was pleased with his own ability to execute a springboard spinning heel kick. These days, it's tough for kids to get into the business if they can't already do a shooting star press by the time they get to training camp. That's why I'm not worried about the boys. Kirsty, though. She's going to have a tougher road to success."
The thought to make some kind of dig about compensating for a strained relationship with his sister flitted through Jeff Andrews' mind. He swatted it down, reminding himself that they weren't enemies anymore.
Sometimes, though, it was like Cole Christenson possessed some kind of telepathic ability, because he tensed up. Before he did though, the phone rang.
"We're in man! We're in!"
"Ebullient." Jeff said off the phone with a smirk at Cole. Then, "Yeah, good job Jeffrey. I figured Gus would have room for you guys."
Some scuffling, then a second voice. "My leg's dope man, better than new, can't wait to get back to it! You sure that...?"
"YES Lee, everything's cool, we've been through that, okay? Just make sure you wear your workin' boots and kick some faces, that's all anyone wants. Well, maybe some flippity stuff."
Some more scuffling sounds, then "Gotta have flippz!" from the phone. More scuffling, then a beep.
Jeff Andrews looked at Cole Christenson.
Cole Christenson looked back at Jeff Andrews and raised an eyebrow.
"Step one."
Cole steepled his fingers then bent his knuckles back. "You do realize that Eric's going to smell you all over this pretty much instantly."
"That." Jeff Andrews said, "will be dealt with in Step 3. Besides, I don't think you're even on his radar. No, we play this one straight and quiet."