"There's no problem."
Bradshaw took another gulp out of his beer and waved his hand for another. "I thought you were supposed to
be clever, kid. Now I never claimed to be, or to be one of these shrink types, but when I see a good kid like yourself
who doesn't normally drink, start drinking after a match that he lost, not that that normally starts him drinking, I have
to think that there was something different, some problem with this loss. Wonder what it could have been?"
"There wasn't one."
"Yeah, and I'm a monkey's uncle." Bradshaw took a gulp from his beer. "Wouldn't have anything to
do with the fight being against the other one would it?"
"Shut up."
"Getting somewhere, am I?"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up."
"Make me."
Charlie didn't. Bradshaw took that as an okay for him to sit down. Couldn't really
do the man-to-man bit when he was standing up five feet away.
"So don't bother this time."
"Let me finish, boy. As I was saying, I don't normally interfere, a man's private life ought to be exactly
that and no son of a gun ought to stick his nose in but, at the same time, me being as old in the tooth as I am, I feel it
right to stop a man doing the same foolish things that I've done."
"But you've done so many, how can you pick just the one?"
"Don't try and be smart with me kid, I can still beat you black and blue, drunk as I am."
"I'd like to see you try."
"No, you wouldn't. And I'm not likely to, since it'd set the other one after me for revenge."
"Hardly, Shelton doesn't give a damn about me. Doesn't care that we're supposed to be regaining the tag team
championship." Charlie realised he'd said just a little too much, enough to let Bradshaw in.
"I wouldn't say
that."
"You did see the match, didn't you."
"Yeah so he beat you, so what?"
"It wasn't the loss. It's not like that doesn't happen often enough to us, it's the way he treated me as though
I was just a stupid kid. I mean, I know he's supposed to be the better one being Brock's trainer and all, but still,
I deserve a little respect."
"See, that's the first mistake you're making. Getting all tangled up because of something that happened out
there. Ignore it, or do the same to him next time, it doesn't matter. But once you're out of the ring, forget
it. In the long run, what happens outside the ring is more important."
"Says you."
"Says me." Bradshaw took another gulp from his beer. "Plus there's something you've forgotten about?"
"What?" Charlie had been made a fool of on national television, Shelton had enjoyed doing it, what could he
have forgotten?
"The lottery, draft, whatever they're calling it." Bradshaw waved his arms about nearly knocking his glass
flying.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"You two could be split up."
"So what? Sounds like a blessing." He could have strangled Shelton. He should have done.
"Don't be stupid, kid. I know that if you leave it like this and either one of you goes to RAW you'll be regretting
it all of your born days."
"But what are the chances of us getting split up? It's not going to happen."
"Always plan for the worst."
"It's not as though we'd never see each other again. I mean come on, the two shows cross paths often enough."
"I'll tell you something, last time there was a draft, me and Ron got split up. I saw him once in four months.
It ain't a lot of time to work with."
"But, but, but, I mean..." Charlie spluttered into silence. He hadn't even
thought of it really, because they weren't going to get split up. They were a tag team, for better or worse they were
stuck with each other. But now Bradshaw was sitting here making it sound as though it had a high probability of happening.
Shelton really had riled him up this time but the idea of not speaking to him for months... It must have been the alcohol
acting because his head started to spin.
"I know that at the moment you only want to hit him from here to Topeka, and
in your place so would I, so I'm not expecting you to be happy about it, but don't let him go without talking to him."
"Yeah,"
Charlie got up and looked distracted, "I don't think the drink is agreeing with me. I'm just going to go back to Shel...
the room and sleep it off."
"That's the idea."
Charlie walked out. If the drink was getting to him, his walk sure wasn't showing
it. Bradshaw supposed that Charlie didn't want him to think that he'd actually got through to him. But Bradshaw
had, and he knew it. It made him glad too. The one good thing about the day. If he could get someone, anyone,
to learn from his mistake, that might make him feel better. That he let Ron go without saying anything, without telling
him, all the time he'd had he'd wasted. Wasted it trying to get Heyman to change his mind, son of a bitch had a heart
of stone and was stubborn as a mule. Bradshaw should have known it wouldn't work. But he didn't so Ron was clear
gone from the hotel by the time Bradshaw got back. Lord alone knew what Ron was thinking that Bradshaw was doing during
that time; he could be thinking anything about him. He hadn't left a number or nothing so Bradshaw had no way of contacting
him. Just to tell him that he hadn't followed him straight out of the building because he thought he could get Ron's
job back, that if he'd known he couldn't he would have been out of there like a flash and that he already missed him so much
that it hurt right from his head to his toes.
Loving folks ain't easy when they up and leave and don't have a mobile
phone.
Bradshaw drank what was left of Charlie's drink, no point in it going to waste. He'd have to sit around
and wait, and that only made him depressed because some part of him felt so strongly that Ron wouldn't come back to him no
matter what. Right now the drink wasn't blocking that out but maybe with a little more.
"Another beer please."
~~~~
