Act II
“Lost Girl”
-1-
Santa Clara
Sometime in the past
Anj stood in the parking lot of Santa Clara station holding a picture of Beth. It was the one where she was smiling for a change. Her short blonde hair was windblown into her eyes and she was squinting into the sun. The same way he squinted when he stepped off the train. A mid-afternoon sun beamed bright in the sky. He’d thrown a hand up to shield his face as he slung the army green bag, that was filled with all the clothes he owned, over his shoulder.
Inside the building there was a model train museum. Most of which were in glass enclosures with signs that said, “Do Not Touch. Please and Thank you.” Anj had maybe an hour to kill, so he stared at the tiny model trains and the tiny model towns they inhabited. A group of tourists nearby snapped pictures with their phones. One of the kids in the tourist group, a boy of maybe seven, was smacking his pudgy little hands against the glass.
Anj checked his watch. Fifty-five minutes to go.
He grabbed a can of soda from the vending machine outside the doorway to the museum and decided he’d much rather wait in the parking lot. The warm sun felt good on his face, and he stuck a hand in the front pocket of his jeans as he took a pull on the can of soda. It was Saturday, and the weather was mild and the parking lot was starting to fill with people taking the train north toward the city. He watched a group of teenage girls giggling as they fumbled in their bags for something that was supposed to cause great hilarity.
The photo of Beth had been inside his bag where you’d slide a card to identify the bag as your own. He honestly didn’t remember putting it there, but alas there it was. Anj had just placed it back when a maroon pickup swerved to a stop in front of him. The driver’s side door flew open, and a tall, boney woman with an angular face gave him a smile over the hood of the pickup.
“You know I drove past you,” she said. “Barely recognized you, little brother.”
Anj smiled as his older sister came around the side of the truck. She wrapped him up in her long arms.
“It’s good to see you, Marty.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah. It has,” Anj said softly.
“You were a boy last time I saw you.”
She pulled away for a moment, studied his face and the loss of recognition there give him a sad pinch in his gut. Marty gestured with her head toward her truck and they left Santa Clara station behind.
-2-
Dayton, Ohio
Now
Anj followed a few of the Impact guys, some who had been on his flight into Ohio, toward the locker room of the Nutter Center. Technically, he didn’t have to even be in the state until Friday, he’d been given permission to enjoy the holiday, but he’d opted to fly in early.
What was he going to do anyway? Sit around the Golden Coral and watch the other sad sacks enjoy their lukewarm dinners? Though, if he really had his choice he would have laid low for a few days in the nice warm sun somewhere. Winter was already showing its ugly face here on the east coast.
He dropped his bag in front of his locker and noticed that there was a handwritten note taped to it. He pulled it free and gave it a read: “Anj, as soon as you read this come find me - Liz Weinberg”
Anj smirked and folded up the letter and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. Once he secured his stuff was locked away he set out to find Liz. It didn’t take long as he could hear her shouting at someone about her coffee being too hot. As he rounded the bend in the corridor he saw her walking angrily in his direction from the catering tables. He noticed that her demeanor changed once she saw him standing there.
“Mr. Angelus,” she said, brushing a strand of hair off her eyes.
“How’s it going?” he asked, then gestured toward the coffee in her hands. “Careful, I hear they serve that hot here.”
She gave him a frown.
“You don’t give me your lip,” she said. “You’re lucky I’m even chatting with you. Normally I don’t fraternize with the talent that is on the bottom of the card.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll try not to make eye contact.”
“I take it you got my note?”
“Sure did,” he replied. “I figured you’d still be mad after the way our last interview went.”
“Who says I’m not” she asked. “There’s one thing I care about and that is ratings. The higher the ratings, the more air time we get for interviews and the more time yours truly gets to be on camera.”
“I’m glad you have this all figured out,” he said. “So what do you want with me?”
“It’s simple,” she said. “You got over with the crowd last week. They responded well to your promo. No one pays attention to the opening match. People are still trying to find their seats and get their overpriced pretzels. You had that place on their feet. You may be a bottom card guy now, but my intuition says that won’t be the case for long. Besides, it’ll look good on me if I can be the one who puts you in front of these people.”
“Ah,” he said. “So there is an ulterior motive.”
“Look, you help me and I help you get over more with these fans. What do you say?”
“I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Fantastic,” she said. “I want you to get out of your little street clothes and get into your gear. I got us some interview time that will air before Impact. Don’t keep me waiting.”
-3-
Santa Clara
Sometime in the past
“What do you think you might do?” Marty asked as they drove east through Campbell.
She had her elbow propped on the door and was fussing with the messy ponytail on her head.
“Haven’t thought about it,” Anj replied.
That was a lie. Anj had done plenty of thinking. He thought about Beth and the look on her face when she opened the door to him at two in the morning. His stomach bleeding onto the carpet of her living room. Him telling her how wrong everything was.
“By the way,” he said, “thanks for giving me the couch for a few nights.”
“Work is gonna be scarce,” Marty said. She’d grown tired of the ponytail. “I’m just thankful Dan’s got what he’s got going.”
He nodded. Dan had been around since Anj was a kid. His sister, ten years older than Anj, had met Dan in high school. The relationship was volatile from the beginning. Things hadn’t gotten better after they got married, and they got even worse when Marty had a miscarriage with their first child.
“When’s he going to be back?” Anj asked.
“Couple days. They never send him out for long.”
“I’ll try to be gone before he gets back.”
“Don’t worry about. He never had issue with you.”
Anj pulled down the visor above his head to shield the sunlight. He tried to think about the last time he saw Dan. It’d been almost six years now.
“Probably better if I’m gone.” Anj said.
***
Marty lived in an old ranch style house with a small front yard and an even smaller backyard that was cordoned off with a metal fence separating her neighbor's backyard. The inside of the house smelled stale like old wood and old furniture.
Marty headed toward the kitchen in the rear of the house.
“Get you a beer?” she called back.
“Water is fine,” Anj said.
He stepped into the living room and dropped his bag. There was a feeling that came over him, he’d felt it on the train as well, it was hard to pin down. The spell was brief, but it made him feel like he was watching life through another set of eyes then his own. Maybe it was the surroundings. He hadn’t stepped foot in this house since before his mother passed.
“Hey,” Marty said, and passed him a plastic cup with a faded 49ers logo on it. Marty had grabbed a Michelob. Anj looked around the room for a second, sensing a quiet to the house.
“Where’s Oscar?”
Marty put her gaze to the floor, then took a swig off the beer. “Dan’s mother’s house. It’s not to far from here. It’s ... it’s probably the best thing right now.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, you know the story of Dan and I. I don’t have to bullshit you. Well, let’s just say the current chapter looks a lot like the last few.”
Anj nodded. Took a small sip of water.
“It’s still strange to look at you,” Marty said as she stuck a hand in the back pocket of her jeans. “Little Anj is a man now.”
“I suppose I am.”
“Did you ever think you’d be back here?”
“Tried not to be.”
“Yet, here you are.” She took another sip of her beer. “Look Anj, just cause I’m stuck in the same cycle doesn’t mean you have to be.”
“I’m not planning on it, I --”
“Rusty called before I went to get you. He knows you’re back.”
“Good for Rusty.”
Marty stuck her foot out and gave Anj’s bag a little kick with her shoe.
“I saw the picture of Beth you got on there.”
“So?” asked Anj.
“Just tell me you didn’t come back here to avenge a dead girl.”
-4-
Dayton, Ohio
Now
Anj found Liz in one of the interview areas that had been dressed up with a barbwire fence, with the Saturday Night Impact logo stretched across it. Beneath the sign were rusted out barrels with flames cackling out of them.
“You know what you’re going to say?” Liz asked as the camera man was getting into position.
“I’m going off the cuff like I usually do,” Anj replied.
“Ever the professional,” Liz shot back as the countdown began. “Here we go.”
Anj rolled his neck and took a hard swallow.
“Hello everyone,” Liz said into the mic. “Welcome to another addition of Saturday Night Impact. The gentleman to my right is already making his mark here in the XWF after an impressive win last week over Hank Lane. Now, Angelus, this week the stakes are a little different. You find yourself in a triple threat match with The Nuke and Crimson Dong. No DQs. No pinfalls. It’s knockout or submission. How do you think you’ll fare?"
“First of all, Liz, can we talk about how absurd the names are of the people in this match? Crimson Dong? The Nuke? Am I actually fighting anyone or going up against the poor man’s Justice League out there?”
“Valid question,” Liz said with a chuckle.
“I’ll be honest with you, neither of these two idiots impress me in the least bit. On one side of the ring we got the HGH using Nuke who comes out all retard strong, yelling, throwing things, then wears himself out. Then we got the Crimson Dong walking out looking like a greeter at Wal-Mart who is renting space in his parents basement.”
“So I take it you’re not worried or concerned that you’ll have to make one of these competitors tap out?”
“Absolutely not, Liz. I am a man who knows over a thousand holds, I’d show you the list but I don’t want to bore everyone. And let’s be real here, neither of these two pose any kind of threat in the least bit. Maybe I’ll just bring a squirrel down to the ring and just let those two tire each other out chasing it around the arena before I sweep in for the kill shot.”
“Sounds like good strategy to me, Angelus,” Liz said. “Well, there you have it folks, Angelus is heading ringside as we speak.
The red light in the camera went out.
“Not bad,” Liz said. “For off the cuff.”
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