“You haven’t missed one yet, man! How you doin’ this?”
C.J. shows no reaction to the praise as he grinds out the last couple of notes, finishing the song perfectly and raising his arms into the air.
“No way did I just get 100% on Expert.”
The television shows us a recap of his performance, revealing that he did indeed perfect the song. He lifts the strap up over his head and hands the guitar over to his partner, who proceeds to mash buttons furiously. C.J. gets up from his chair and heads out of frame. The dude on the ground sees the open chair and quickly climbs to his feet.
“Tap, tap,” can be heard coming from outside the frame. The dude standing above the chair protests in anger.
“Dude, you’re gay, I never get to sit in your chair.”
C.J. reappears in the frame, holding a Corona in one hand and a flashy new cell phone in the other. He flips open the phone and sips the beer as he plops down once again in his chair.
“I know. That’s ‘cause it’s MY chair. Only I get to sit in it. Adam, don’t break the guitar. I’m not buying you another one.”
Adam continues to mash the guitar randomly, hardly a note being hit correctly on the screen. C.J. shakes his head and takes another sip, reading something on his cell phone. Adam takes a break from butchering a song momentarily to glance over at his friend.
“Dude, when’d you get that cell phone? I thought you said cell phones were for douche bags who can’t remember numbers…”
C.J. cracks a smile as he punches some buttons and flips his phone closed, tucking it away in his jean pocket for good measure.
“I didn’t buy it, FUSE gave it to me.”
Adam drops the guitar, a look of utter shock and amazement on his face. C.J. nearly spits up a mouthful of beer as he leaps out of the chair and grabs the guitar, checking it for damages.
“Dude! I told you to be careful, this is the third guitar I’ve had to get for you!”
Satisfied that the guitar has suffered no extensive damages, C.J. turns off the system and the television and grabs a laptop from on top of his entertainment center. He takes it back to his chair and opens it up, a blue glow spreading across his face. Adam still stands there dumbfounded, his eyeballs nearly popping out of his head. Drool begins to puddle on the floor below him. Finally, he speaks.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell me?”
C.J. looks up from typing and gives his friend a disgusted look.
“Dude, it’s just a phone. Not that big a deal.”
Adam shakes his head and comes around behind his friend to view whatever is on the laptop.
“No, bro. That’s not what I’m talking about. You never told me you got into FUSE.”
“I didn’t?”
“No, you didn’t. I don’t have the best memory in the world, but I definitely woulda remembered that.”
“Oh, well, yea. I got in. I’m supposed to fly out to Virginia tomorrow. I’ve got my first match on Friday.”
Adam nods as C.J. begins typing once again.
“That’s frickin’ crazy. Know who you’re facin’?”
C.J. nods and points at the computer screen. Adam’s eyes grow wide as he leans in closer to the screen.
“Damien Cruz?! No fuckin’ way! You’re gonna get your ass kicked!”
C.J. laughs and clicks on something. The computer shows the FUSE website, more specifically Damien Cruz’s profile.
“Thanks, bro. It says here that he’s a two time Universal Champion. Not bad, not bad.”
“Not bad?! He’s a fuckin’ legend!”
“Ha. ‘The Latin Assassin’. Nice nickname.”
C.J. chuckles as he takes a long chug from his beer, downing the rest. Adam hits him on the shoulder, causing C.J. to burp loudly.
“Dude, he is. I heard he killed two guys when he was wrestling in Mexico.”
C.J. closes the laptop and gets out of the chair, heading once again to the kitchen. Adam tags along behind him, eager to hear more about his friend’s debut in FUSE.
“Of course he’s killed two guys wrestling. Every wrestler’s killed two guys. Shit, I’ve killed two guys. So many guys have been killed wrestling, it’s a miracle there are any of us left. Shut the fuck up, Adam, and give me some info I need to know.”
C.J. goes to the fridge and pulls out a Marie Calendar’s box. He sets it down on the counter and grabs a spoon out of a drawer. He opens the box to find a gorgeous chocolate peanut butter pie. C.J. licks his lips and goes to scoop out a bite, but Adam slams the lid closed before he can.
“What the fuck, bro?”
“Dude, you’ve got a match with ‘The Latin Assassin’ in three days and you’re gonna sit here eating pie?”
C.J. looks around before answering.
“No…I’m fuckin’ standing. Hahaha!”
Adam doesn’t share the laugh. Instead, he grabs the pie box and places it back into the fridge.
“You’re in the big leagues now, Ceej. You’ve gotta start watching what you eat…and what you drink. No more beer, either.”
“No more beer? Ever heard of a guy named Stone Cold? Fuck off, bro. You’re my friend, not my coach.”
“I know I’m not you’re coach. Think of me as a friendly advisor.”
“I’ll advise you to not tell me what to do. And considering I’ve gotta get up in nine hours and get to the airport, I need some sleep.”
“No problem, I’ll just play Guitar Hero by myself.”
C.J. smiles and shakes his head. He grabs Adam by the arm and begins to walk towards the front door.
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“That’s gay, bro. Why do I have to go home?”
“You need your sleep, too.”
C.J. lets Adam go once they reach the front door. C.J. opens it and waits for Adam to make his exit. Adam steps outside, but stops and turns to face C.J. at the welcome mat.
“I don’t have anything going on tomorrow...why do I need sleep?”
“Because you’re going with me.”
Before Adam can respond, C.J. shuts the door and locks it. A loud yell can be heard from the front door. C.J. laughs and shakes his head as he walks back into the kitchen.
“Now, where was I?”
C.J. heads back into the fridge and grabs the pie. He scoops the spoon into it and holds it in front of his face.
“If I’m gonna make it in FUSE, I’m gonna do it my way.”
He puts the spoon into his mouth and closes his eyes, letting the sweet taste overtake his senses. He laughs and he goes down for another and the scene fades.