Richmond, VA
Friday, February 12, 2010
11:30 p.m.

"Champ! Hey, champ?"

From his seat across from Violet at a Waffle House a couple miles away from the Arthur Ashe Athletic Center, John feels the urge to look towards the door to see which champion had just walked in. Then-- oh. Must be talking to me. Violet seems to be aware of those thoughts, too; she was trying very hard to conceal a grin.

Looking over towards the person who'd spoken to him, who was standing right next to the table, John put on his most pleasant smile. "Yes, sir, what can I do for you?"

The gentleman in question is about forty years old or so, balding, wearing a black T-shirt with the letters "WWA" written in white across it. And standing next to him are two children-- a red-haired girl of about 12, and a brown-haired boy, maybe 9. The girl wears a T-shirt with John's name and likeness on it-- Holy crap, they're already making those? and has a ponytail sticking out of her blue Norfolk Tides baseball cap. The boy wears a simple striped shirt.

"Hey, we saw you in the show tonight," the man says. Maybe he's Captain Obvious's mild-mannered alter-ego, John thinks to himself; it wasn't like John was wearing the title belt at this exact moment or anything. Plus, if the girl was wearing a John Grant T-shirt that John hadn't even known existed, it must have just been bought tonight. "You were great! The way you stood up to RJ Stone, beat him down after his explanation, and then took it to him in the main event... and then you won the match!" The man speaks with the passion that only a true wrestling fan could display. "We were sitting ten rows back; you were celebrating with the title only a few feet or so in front of us."

John honestly couldn't remember seeing this family there, but then again his celebration had been a bit of a blur. His head had still been spinning a little bit from exhaustion after a long, grueling match. "I'm glad you had a good time," John replies, earnestly. "That's why we go out there and do what we do-- to entertain the fans."

The kids smile at that, and turning to his daughter, the man says, "See? This is one of the reasons I love wrestling."

"I know," the girl replies, looking very shyly towards John. John could almost see the request that was coming before it happened, and his suspicions are confirmed as the man takes out a cell phone.

"You're my daughter's new favorite wrestler," he says to him. "And she'd love to have a picture of you with her. If that's okay with you too, ma'am," he amends, seeming to notice Violet for the first time. Violet smiles and shrugs, as if to say, Okay with me, thanks for asking! She seems on the verge of bursting into laughter.

"No problem," John says, and lifting his right shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, he does a simple muscle flex, which the girl picks up on and duplicates. After a moment, the camera flashes.

"That's great! Thanks, Mr. Grant--"

"--John," the wrestler insists, with a smile on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt your dinner. We look forward to seeing your next match!"

"Always a pleasure to meet a fan," John replies, and he means it. Less than a month ago, John had been thrilled when a girl in his own hometown had recognized him from the matches he'd wrestled at Shane's Pub. Now a 12-year-old girl was wearing his T-shirt!

The family heads out of the restaurant, and Violet waits a beat before finally allowing herself to laugh.

"And what's so funny?" John asks her, sticking his tongue out playfully at his girlfriend.

"You are," she tells him, sticking her own tongue out at him in response. "'Always a pleasure to meet a fan. We go out there to entertain the fans.' Playing it a little safe with the clichés, eh?" Violet giggles softly, clearly enjoying the way she was teasing him.

John laughs softly, and takes a sip of his sweet tea. "Yeah. It's pretty wild, going from main-eventing Shane's Pub on Halloween night to, less than four months later, holding the second-highest championship in the World Wrestling Alliance. All of a sudden I'm one of the faces of the company, you know? And that means, even more than usual, I've gotta put on my best public face, or risk ending up on the local news. 'U.S. Champion John Grant snubs fans at Waffle House. More at eleven.'"

Violet looks at him, half amused, half-incredulous. "You're exaggerating!"

"Well, maybe a little," John admits. "Still, it's a nice problem to have. If you'd have told me after the three-way match that I'd be U.S. Champion soon afterward..."

"...you'd probably be glad to know you were even still in the WWA to begin with," Violet finishes for him. That had been something John had fretted about-- "What if the WWA was only going to accept the winner?" he'd asked her. Violet had really worked wonders after that match, consoling John and telling him that one loss wasn't the end of the world.

"Right, exactly. And I just had my first post-show autograph session, keeping the belt slung over my shoulder the whole time... and there was still a part of me that was thinking, 'Are you sure you want me to sign an autograph?'"

Violet chuckles again. "You're selling yourself short, jay-gee. You do that a lot, actually. Look at it from the fans' perspective; you've had an amazing week. You hit Carnage with the Running Tigerbomb last week and got the three in the tag match, earned the title shot, and spent the entire week pushing yourself even harder than usual to prepare for it. And after a fantastic main event, you stood tall in the ring, holding the U.S. Heavyweight Title belt high over your head."

John smiles brightly. Regardless of whatever happened for the rest of his wrestling career, he would always remember the moment of his first title win. "And just as important was who I beat to earn that distinction," he replies.

Of course, he'd beaten five people to win the match, and the importance of that couldn't be minimized. But John had had only one man in mind when he'd said that, and Violet knew that. "RJ Stone."

"Man... I can't describe what it felt like to Tigerbomb that guy right in the middle of the ring, get the pin, 1-2-3. And winning that title... to me, it justified all the work I put in just to make it into the business. Wrestling in high school, going through Dad's wrestling academy..." John's enthusiasm seems to be radiating off of him like a child celebrating a birthday. Suddenly self-conscious of how he was sounding, the 17-year-old falls silent, and takes a bite of a waffle.

Just then, John and Violet's server comes by; she was a slightly fat, matronly white woman of about 50. "Anything else I can get for you two tonight?" she asks.

Violet favors her with a friendly smile. "Two slices of hot pecan pie, a la mode, please," she says. "We're celebrating."

Not for the first time, John wonders what he'd done to deserve having Violet as a girlfriend.