Contagious (3 page)

There were a lot of titles to his job, refuse collector, sanitation worker, garbage man … none of which were a title he wanted, but it paid the bills and was a decent living, despite the fact he would have preferred to smell better at the end of the day.

But he was working on the road to his dream.

Born Raymond Walter Nee, he developed his nickname when his little brother, like in the movie ‘Rain Man’ could not pronounce his name and called him ‘Rain’ instead of Ray. The nick name stayed, and because it was a variation of his given name, he forever went by ‘Rayne’.

Rayne was a big man, hulking in size and build. His ethnicity of Polynesian and Puerto Rican gave him a darker complexion, and his thick black hair, which he kept at a longer length hung down past his shoulders.

Everything about his look, from his physique to his finely trimmed goatee, was for the picture perfect image he needed in pursuit of his dream. That, of course, wasn’t lifting trash.

He wanted to be a professional wrestler.

Since he was six, that was all he thought about. Then as his little brother got older, he jumped on the wrestling band wagon as well. They both had wild visions of being tag-team champions. As teenagers, the huge brothers used to jump off the detached garage in the backyard, performing feats of ‘shock and awe’ as they called it.

At the very least they would be stuntmen in Hollywood. Neither had any fear and they could take a fall.

Then when Rayne’s little brother Billy was seventeen, he was struck by a car and killed. It was one stunt in which he was fallible. It destroyed Rayne. Every part of him was defined by being that brother.

It took a couple years, but after finding a photo shopped magazine cover of him and his brother as wrestling superstars, Rayne went back to that dream and pursued it with vigor.

Despite the fact he hadn’t achieved superstar status, it didn’t stop him. He wrestled every weekend on the Midwest circuit, driving city to city just to get into the ring.

It wasn’t about the measly twenty dollars he got, it was just about doing it. Even though he was already thirty-two, he wasn’t stopping.

Each night he stepped into that ring, he raised his hand up, peered to the ceiling and in his mind said, ‘This is for you, Billy.’

One day, Rayne would get there. One day.

This Monday morning was difficult. He had taken a bad fall off the top rope, and his back hurt. He worked for a private refuse company, and they had their route. The harder stuff was done, and Rayne was happy about that. Then he got the text from his girlfriend that there was an emergency at the apartment and he had to get there fast.

The message meant he either called off for the afternoon or talked his truck partner into swinging by the apartment.

“It’s not an emergency.” Brad, his partner said. “You know it.”

“Look. See? It says it right here.” Rayne showed him the phone. “Emergency.”

“She does this all the time. At least once a week.”

“Yeah but what if this is the time she’s laying on the floor bleeding to death or something?” Rayne said.

“Then why would she call you and not 911?”

“Because she loves me and I’m the first one that comes to mind.”

Brad laughed out a loud ‘Ha’ and shook his head. “If we stop, we can’t break for lunch.”

“We got the Ambassador, we can make time there.”

“Fine. Fine.” Brad turned the vehicle around. “You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

“You are. Thank you.”

Brad only grumbled and headed in the direction of Rayne’s apartment complex.

Lita had been Rayne’s girlfriend for two years. She was absolutely beautiful. Tall and gorgeous and no matter where Rayne went with her, he was envied by his friends and coworkers. Until she opened her mouth, proving once and for all, beauty was only skin deep.

She wasn’t very nice.

He raced up the stairs to his second floor apartment. The moment Rayne opened the door and called out her name, he was greeted by a vase that whizzed by his head and smashed into the wall.

“Hey, hey.” Rayne held up his hand. “It’s me. Not a burglar.”

“I know that, asshole.” She folded her arms and stormed to him.

“I thought maybe you thought I was someone else and you were protecting yourself.’

“No! I mean
t to hit you.”

“You missed.”

Quickly, Lita grabbed the remote, threw it at Rayne and hit him in the head.

“Ow.”

“Two hundred dollars!” She screamed, waving a piece of paper. “Debit card statement, Rayne. Two hundred for boots. Another one hundred and fifty for tights. And what is this... three fifty for a cape?”

“I thought I’d change my shtick. It didn’t work.”

“Nothing is going to work. I’m tired of this. I couldn’t figure out why, after your pay was deposited that my hair cut was declined. This …” She slammed it into his chest. “is why. Seven hundred dollars, Rayne. Seven on wrestling shit! That’s just this month.”

“I need the stuff.”

“You need to quit.”

“It’s my dream and I am not giving it up.”

“You don't think maybe you’re a little too old for this dream?”

“Rick Flair wrestled well into his sixties.”

“Rick Flair can bite me.”

“That’s just disrespectful
,” Rayne said. “Are you sure you’re not upset about the groupies?”

“What groupies? You have twelve year olds and middle age men chanting for you. No Rayne, this is about me being tired of being poor. Tired of never having money. Having things bounce so you can wrestle.”

“What if you got a job?”

Lita gasped. “How dare you? You promised me I
’d never have to work and now you’re throwing it in my face!”

“OK, ok, you’re right.” Rayne held up his hand. “What is the emergency? You said there was an emergency.’

“This!” Lita screamed. “Are you an idiot?”

“Stop with the name calling. I’m trying to figure out how this is an emergency. Do you need to pay for your hair? It looks nice.”

“No, Rayne. I’m leaving.”

“To go where?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re done. Through. It’s over. When you get home from work, I’ll be gone.”

“You called me home to say you were leaving me?”

“Yeah, Rayne.”

“Can you not and just wait until I get home so we can sit down and talk?”

Defensively she folded her arms to her body. “I will wait. But here’s your deal. Think about it while you’re working. I’m done. It’s wrestling or me.”

Rayne didn’t say any more, he nodded his head and walked out.

Brad was waiting in the truck when Rayne got in.

“So what was the emergency?” Brad asked.

“She’s pissed that I spent money on wrestling gear. Says she’s leaving me.”

Brad shook his head. “She’s not leaving you.”

“She said I have to choose. Wrestling or her.”

“Rayne, wrestling is your life. Your dream. You do it for you and your brother’s memory. If she loved you, she wouldn’t have you make that choice. Don’t give in. I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know. But what choice do I have?  She’s all I got, Brad. All I have in this world.”

“Then you ain’t looking around. You’re young, Rayne. You have your whole life ahead of you. The whole world.” Brad shifted the gears and drove on. “And trust me, the world isn’t going anywhere yet.”

<><><><>

The overnight delivery envelope was perched before Ava’s front door. She knew what it was and was pretty excited to see it.

She didn’t need to open it to know they were tickets to the live wrestling show at the arena. Calvin would be thrilled and for certain would stay out of trouble for the evening.

It was all part of Ava’s part time job. Very part time job. She always wanted to be a writer and Darren’s friend owned an online blog called
The Venue Vine
. It was a pretty popular online source for wrestling and MMA fans.

When Ava started to write for them, she wasn’t really a fan, until she learned the stories behind the wrestlers and then the entertainment sport grew interesting to her.

After two years she became pretty fanatical.

Her enthusiasm over the tickets was marred by her growing guilt about Cassie.

At first she kind of basked in it with a ‘good, you deserve it attitude’. Then when she had an early lunch with Landon, it stayed on her mind. After dropping him off at kindergarten, she wondered why she hadn’t heard anything.

Four missed phone calls from Cassie’s mother added to her guilt. Not only did she not want to speak to Rosie and tell her that her daughter was in Juvenile Detention, she knew the conversation would end up with Rosie asking, ‘Can you help me out? Just twenty bucks
? Please, I need food.”

Food or whatever the excuse for money was.

But what if Rosie really needed food? Ava would do what she always did, offer to take her to the store.

Ava knew very well that if she gave her money, Rosie was going to buy meth. She always did. It was horrible what it was doing to her. Twice, since Ava knew her, Rosie went into Rehab, but her clean streak ended quickly and each fall from the wagon was worse than the time before.

Rosie used to be beautiful, but everything about her appearance had been trashed. Her skin, teeth and hair.

It broke Ava’s heart when Rose would visit with the kids. They had to see the self
-destruction that was going on and it had to hurt them. Maybe, somewhere in them, they knew they lashed out in hurt over their mother.

After walking in the house, Ava placed the envelope on the table, walked to the living room, and as a habit, turned on the television. Her plan was to make phone calls and find out about Cassie.

The corner of her eye caught the breaking news story at the same time her phone rang. She let it ring through once as Ava tried to visually decipher what she saw on the screen.

An aerial shot of a building, police vehicles people in biohazard suits.

Third ring. She looked at the phone. It was Darren and she answered.

He didn’t say hello, he blasted her. “What the hell, Ava? I put you in charge and you let them arrest my daughter?”

Calmly Ava replied. “I didn’t
let
them arrest her. She was found guilty and taken.”

“Didn’t you tell them I work for Senator Adams?”

“It didn’t matter.”

“Well it matters
,” he said.

“How did you find out?”

“They called me.”

“Oh.” Ava’s eyes went again to the television. She slipped her attention from Darren as she read the screen. ‘Paris Hotel Quarantined.’

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“Um … no. Darren, did you hear anything about …”

“Ava! This is pissing me off. I can’t have my daughter in jail. Do you understand?”

Ava cringed facially. Annoyed she pulled the phone down, pressed her middle finger against it as if Darren could see, then brought it back to her ear. “I understand.”

“Good. They’re releasing her in an hour. I’d appreciate if you would go pick her up.”

“Alright, I will. But I don’t even know where …” Ava cocked her head back. He had hung up. “
They have her. Oh, well.” She placed the phone down, walked around to the sofa and sat down.

After adjusting the volume on the television to hear better, Ava took time to watch the newscast. The building was surrounded and it appeared, that they were covering the large building in some sort of plastic.

To her, not only was the sight of it hard to believe … it was scary.

<><><><>

Sam, acting manager of housekeeping, leaned toward Joel and took in a long sniff.

“What?” Joel asked.

“You have a headache.”

“Yes
,” Joel said. “Now, did you handle it?”

Sam exhaled. “Against my better judgment, I made the room downstairs. I brought up the chairs. We’ll need them for that
self-help seminar on Wednesday.”

“What’s up with that?” Joel shook his head. “We got her poster board to prop up. She’s flighty. Did you see her name? Semora Love. What the hell?”

“I heard she’s brilliant. Maybe you need to stop in and listen to her seminar before JJ Wylde arrives.”

“I don’t need
self-help to handle  a pop star. Now Walter maybe …” Joel chuckled. “Speaking of which, he just radioed we have a problem.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. And thanks for taking care of everything.” Joel turned.

“Say, Joel what
’s  up with all this extra stuff?”