15. Cheyanne

Ronan and I wait in Marie's office. Ronan is relaxed, munching on some wild grass pretzels the CEO has in a crystal bowl. He makes a face with every chew, and I suspect orcs must not be fans of grass, but he doesn't stop eating.

My right knee can't stop shaking. I feel a pressure-cooker of questions coming on.

I know this isn't just a social call. Marie isn't like that. Time is money to the venue owner and why not? Wrestling is a hot commodity, but you have to keep on top of the wave. I wait, but I sense I'm breathing shallowly.

I look down at my watch. "Will Marie be up here soon, do you think? This little tete-a-tete is eating into my sleep time. I have a weight training session at the crack of dawn."

It's an excuse, of course. I hate those dawn sessions. If I was at home, I'd still be up gawking at the TV or reading some trashy novel. I only want out of this office. I don't want to be grilled by Marie and Camie more than I already have about the Archimedes issue.

In between crunches, Ronan replies. "The doorman said Marie and Camie are dealing with an unruly drinker in the pub. Something about he's on his twelfth vodka and the barman wants to cut him off. I doubt they'll be long."

I sigh. It must be a headache owning a large multipurpose venue like this.

Just then, Marie's door swings open. "Hey, girlfriend, glad you could make it." Camie runs to meet us and gives me a big hug.

I smile and hug her back, but not with the same enthusiasm. "Yeah, you said it was important, so I thought I better drop by before heading home."

Marie gives me a hug, and mother and daughter take their seats. In this meeting, Marie sits in her executive office chair behind her massive desk, avoiding taking a seat in the more informal furniture grouping. That tells me this impromptu chat is strictly business.

Marie leans forward and clasps her tiny hoof hands. "I'm sure you know by now I've heard about McAllister's interview invite. I wanted us all here to talk it out."

"Figures," Ronan mumbles under his breath.

"Look, Ronan, I get your viewpoint and, of course, Chey's predicament. But I think you two are making the wrong decision. This kind of exclusive could put Hillbilly Cyborg and Disastra on the map, meaning years of dates and millions made. It's my considered opinion that Chey does not need Raucous in her life anymore. And while I'm soapboxing, you're doing Joseph a disservice, too. He'd be thrilled to help you out. Chey, just say the word, and the world is your oyster."

I keep my head down. I can't think clearly, looking into Marie's beady eyes.

I know my issue with Raucous is letting everyone down. Why should Camie take a P.R. hit for Hillbilly all because of me? Her star is rising, too. She's as driven about her career as I am with mine. The whole situation is one big mess, and I don't have a clue how to broach it.

And that doesn't even cover how much my dad adores Ronan. He'd probably give his right arm to represent him under the Fool's Gold label. I'm swimming in an impossible slough.

"I appreciate your thoughts, Marie. And don't think for a moment I haven't considered Ronan's and Camie's careers in all this." Those are all the words I can muster.

Silence rains down. I clear my throat, turn to Ronan, and try again. Somehow, I have to make people see the reality.

"Take everything my dad says with several truckloads of salt. Sure, he'd kill to represent you. But he knows he can't afford to buy out your contract as Lawless. And that's assuming Raucous would ever let you go, which they'll never do."

I bite my tongue. I fear I've said too much already. But Ronan needs to know. There is fantasy and then there's reality. No use swimming in the former.

"So, you're assuming all is a no-go by assuming I want to stay with Raucous?"

"Well, you'd be an idiot to crawl out from all those millions, right? Regardless of the rumors, HQ is unhappy with your current ticket takes."

"Well, you're right there. They pulled my last few shows in favor of backing some 6-part showdown with B-list tag teams. And I've heard through the grapevine Marty isn't exactly singing my praises. Most probably ‘cause he's afraid I'd up my fee at contract renewal, the weasel."

I know Ronan is ecstatic about my dad potentially wanting to buy out his contract. I see the sparkle in his eyes. He's not thinking big-picture. He's thinking of freedom and a chance to play a character he wants, and I don't have the heart to tell him my dad only seems interested in the villian role for Lawless, the very role Ronan's trying to leave Raucous to escape. I decide to not rain on his fantasy parade anymore than I have.

No matter how much he wants to revamp Lawless's image, no one around him seems to want to see anything change. Not my dad, not Marty, not Raucous. But I don't want to tell him he's stuck and crush his dreams. I don't have the stomach for it.

Marie puts the conversation back on track. "Listen all, you girls are really making a buzz in the amateur circuit. We all expected some talk, but you"re flying higher than any amateur act out there."

"It's true, Chey. We're the talk of the town, media interviews or not," Camie says with a big smile.

"Yes, and that's swell. It really is. But you and I had our eyes wide open on this partnership. It was supposed to be a practice deal, right? Not a brand-new career. We finish our commitments and you'll be free to go off on your own and make a permanent thing. And I can cement my Disastra moves into the Archimedes character like I always planned."

I ball up my fists but hide them by my side. I feel I'm so close to getting Archimedes back on top. All this stuff as Disastra is just to sharpen my game and bring what I learn back to Archimedes so I can do the revamps I need. I'm only even using the character because I could get sued into the next century for working as Archimedes out of contract.

This method is a perfect temporary solution, Ticket sales fly, and I don't betray my mother's wish for me. Everyone ends up happy. Including me.

I inhale and go in for the last point. "And about the McAllister interview. I can't risk showing up without my makeup and mask and face Chad. He'll blow the lid off my cover and there goes my contract."

I fake concern and look at my watch.

"Look, it's late, and my weight training session starts bright and early. I really have to go."

And with that, I walk out of Marie's office and don't look back. I know the sullen expressions hanging on the faces left behind me.

* * *

I barely get my coat off before there's a knock on my door. I look through the peephole. It's Ronan. I quickly open the door but flash a puzzled look on my face.

Ronan hands a duffle bag over. "In your rush, you forgot all your Disastra gear. It was still in my car from the last gig."

I swear his eyes are drinking me in, sizing me up and not in a wrestling way. I swallow hard and look away. What if I'm wrong and that's just how he looks sometimes? "Man, I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on. Come in."

I step aside, making room for his massive frame to get through the door.

"My phone died. I would have texted. I know this is so rude. But I figured you'd freak tomorrow morning when you figured out your suit was still out there. And I thought you might still be up, so took a chance coming over. I hope you don't mind."

"No, gosh, you saved my butt. The last thing I need is for that suit to get lost and do the talking for me around town."

I close the door and show Ronan into the living room. We take a seat on the sofa. The moon is full tonight, and its beams are streaming right in. No need for lights. We sit in a bright blue haze.

No matter the lighting or the time of day, Ronan is a walking, talking barrel of hunky orc. There's no two ways around it. Even when he reclines, his muscles pop. And his profile… It's even sexier than a frontal look. High cheekbones and full, luscious lips. He's hot looking, and I'm getting hot under the collar.

Calm the heck down, Chey. Geez. Get a hold of yourself. He only came over to do you a favor.

Personally, I don't care what his reason is for sitting on my sofa. I'll accept them all.

It's the weirdest thing. Beyond the physical attraction, I enjoy being around this orc. If anyone had asked me a year ago about my preference for orcs, I would have said I file them under ‘T' for Take Them or Leave Them. Now, I'm definitely in the Take and Keep camp. At least with this one.

I know it's late. I know I should already be asleep in my bed. But to sit and talk with Ronan on my own is too appealing. I'd rather be yawning up a storm at training tomorrow than to miss a chance to be by his side.

Our shoulders touch. Not because I plan it that way, but because the big bruiser puppy takes up half of my couch. But I decide I don't mind.

It's like Camie said. If there's a move, don't shy away. Move in. And that's what I do. I lean in, and I allow my side to fold into his as we both look out at the harvest moon gracing my windowpane.

One orc and me. Safe and secure, and maybe with love and attraction growing into far more than there is between mere manager and wrestler.

I wonder how he looks when he sleeps. Mouth open or closed? A part of me thinks he snores. The other part of me already thinks who cares? I'm sure he's cute doing it.