An Early Valentine's Day Gift

[Crosby Carter]

February 9th, 2018 - Woodbridge, New Jersey

We find ourselves in the middle of nowhere. A bunch of cars are parked haphazardly in a field. Across the field we can see that a barn is located on the property and the lights in front of it are turned on. As the sun begins to set, the lights slightly illuminate the wrestling ring that is set up next to it. It is only a few feet off the ground and there are people currently attaching the ropes to makeshift ring posts. In all honestly, it does not look like a safe construction for anyone involved.

Crosby Carter is sitting inside his beat-up, silver Pontiac Sunfire with the driver-side door open. He’s sitting sideways in the driver’s seat, his feet outside of the car. He is wearing a pair of black, heavily worn-in, ripped jeans and is lacing up his running shoes. They have a few holes in them and the sole is falling off but they get the job done. His long flowing locks are pulled back into the most flawless messy bun you’ve ever seen, the same way he starts every match and the outfit is complete with a black hoodie and leather jacket. As the Jersey daredevil begins pulling his kick-pads on over his jeans and shoes, we can see a gorgeous blonde heading across the field.

Carsyn Carrabetta is wearing a pair of blue ripped skinny jeans with black knee-high slouchy boots and a pastel, tie-dye hoodie. Her long blonde locks are curled loosely and she is carrying a glossy black box in her hands. The love of Crosby’s life stumbles a few times, trying to get her footing on the uneven ground but she never loses her grip on the box in her hand. As she reaches the car, Crosby is literally using black electrical tape to connect his kick-pads to his shoes.

“Need help?” She asks as she walks over with a small smile on her face. Crosby was never one to care about the finer things in life. He grew up watching his mother try to make ends meet by working multiple jobs and he learned how to make due with what he had. Sometimes that meant wrestling in shoes that were full of holes and taping your kick-pads on because the straps broke two years ago. Carsyn was the complete opposite but it melted her heart a little.

He ripped the electric tape off the roll with his teeth and threw it back into the car.

“Nope. I’m good.” One half of the Flo Bro’s got to his feet and arched an eyebrow at the box in Carsyn’s hand. A coy look spread across her face.

“I got you a present.”

“Valentine’s Day isn’t ‘till next week.”

“Just open it.” She replied, shoving the box towards him.

Crosby undid the gold bow and took the top off of the box. After throwing a piece of gold tissue paper on the ground, he pulled out a pair of wrestling trunks. They were little black shorts with a latex-like sheen that had a thick gold band around the waist. A smirk crossed his face and he nodded as he held them up in the light.

“Babe. These are rad as fuck.”

Carsyn simply nodded towards the box. He looked down and saw a piece of paper laying in the bottom of the box. Picking it up, he quickly read the headline - ‘The Factory Contract - Crosby Carter.’ As he read further down the page his jaw literally dropped. With wide eyes, he glanced back up at his girlfriend. She had the biggest smile ever on her face.

“Is this… is this what I think this is?”

The blonde nodded vigorously and almost squealed with excitement. “There’s a new promotion opening up in Newark. It’s like a hybrid fed. A real ring. A real roof. Real wrestlers. But no rules. Hardcore environment, Cros.”

“But… how?” Crosby Carter had made a name for himself around the backyard scene for years. Him and Thadd were known as two crazy idiots. But this hadn’t actually garnered them the right kind of attention. Real promotions wouldn’t touch Crosby. While Thadd had done a few classes and seminars to learn technical wrestling, at Azalea’s request, Crosby did his own thing. He learned as he went and only wanted to make it on his own style, even if that mean not making it at all. Any money Crosby made went into paying bills and helping his family. Taking a seminar wasn’t an option for him and he wouldn’t accept a single handout from Carsyn. Any real promotion stuck their nose up at the backyarder, even going as far as stating that he was ‘ruining the business’. Whatever that meant.

“I sent in your tapes.” Carsyn glanced down and ground her boot into the soil beneath it. She hated hiding things from Crosby and this had been a secret for a while. “You and Thadd. I put together a little montage of all of your best moments. I don’t know much about this place but I think they’re looking for crazy. They want trained technicians but they also want daredevils who will put them on the map. I didn’t want to get your hopes up so I kept it to myself. They loved you both and sent over contracts for both of you the other day.”

Crosby didn't say a word. He just stared at her. The wrestling fanatic was just in shock. His dream was staring him in the face and it was all because this beautiful blonde had believed in him.

Carsyn’s smile faltered as she looked back at Crosby. She was worried that he would be mad that she had kept this from him. Before she could apologize or beg for forgiveness, her boyfriend dropped the box on the ground. He grabbed Carsyn’s face and crushed his lips against hers, pressing her back against the car. After a few moments and some tongue, he pulled back.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything but send in a tape. You did all the hard work for the last five years. You made your dream happen.”

“I fucking love you, Carsyn Carrabetta.”

With a smile, she brushed her lips against his light. “I love you too, Crosby.”

She glanced behind them, at the barn illuminated in the night and made a concerned face. “Now that you have a real job, try not to kill yourself tonight, yeah?”

The Staten Island native giggled as Crosby looked at the barn with a smirk on his face.

“Oh no. I’m totally jumping off the barn still.”