18. Ronan

It's the usual midweek, midday milk run of errands an orc has to do. I hate acting like a human with all these pedestrian chores. I gather them up and then go ballistic on Briarwood and the surrounding area, crossing one to-do off my list at a time.

This week has been so crazy, what with meetings, training with the girls, and dancing around phone calls and texts from the big wigs at Raucous. It's almost like they can sense something is going on with me. My gut says I'm running out of time with those guys.

Today, the run doesn't seem as bad. Driving through the town and the countryside gives me a chance to sort my thoughts. I let my car slowly weave left and right along the country lane. The leaves lazily waft onto my windshield and the world around me lives its carefree existence while I'm a bag of nerves, good and bad.

This morning has been long, and I haven't even gone to bed yet. But feeling the way I do… It's worth the body exhaustion.

As I'm all alone on my errand run, I decide to talk to my dashboard toy. It's a miniature stuffed animal gopher from the 1980 movie, Caddyshack. If I push its button, the furball will dance his jig and sing the theme song. It makes me laugh every time. But today, I'll talk to him, orc to gopher, leaving his start button alone.

"What was I worried about with Chey? I'm an idiot for thinking our relationship would be rocky or complex. It's the most natural thing in the world. Chey is the most unique creature I've ever met. I never knew humans could be this sensual, this caring. That's what I get for comparing her to the rest of the female wrestling world."

The gopher stares back at me. He's a good listener.

"Plus, it's not like some cheesy work affair. Chey and I won't be partnered forever. She's hellbent on returning to Raucous and continuing on with her Archimedes brand."

Gopher stares. Now, I'm getting miffed at his silence.

"But if you ask me — and no, you haven't — Chey shouldn't be wasting her time on flogging a dead character horse. Mm… horse... I could eat," I murmur, realizing I haven't had lunch yet.

"But I know the only person who can come to this awareness is Chey. Fits the old saying. You can drag a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." Seriously, I could eat grilled horse about now. I'm hungry as an… nope, won't say it. I smile at myself in the rearview mirror and stick my tongue out at the gopher. "Geez, sometimes you can be a real conversation hog!"

I continue. The gopher doesn't stop me.

"I've pointed out the errors in her old act until my face turns blue, but Cheyanne refuses to see reason."

Disgusted with the gopher's indifferent attitude toward our conversation, I forgo his help and switch on the radio. Thank God for Sirius XM and the wrestling channel. It's the Don Caper Hour, starring those two misfits, Don Caper and his mindless sidekick, Harvey Hamm. Their talk wakes me right up.

"So, Harvey, did you get a load of the new amateur act in town?"

"Which one, Don? The monkey man and the python beast?"

"No, Harvey. And for those radio listeners out there, I'm shaking my head at Harvey, sorely disappointed in the uninformed man. I'm talking about the buzz over the vixen duo, Disastra and Daisy Mae Doe Eye. What. A. Show! What they're doing over there in the old amateur venues and the single ticket offerings at The Faun. Incredible! Worth a pro wrestling ticket price, if you ask me."

"That good?"

"That good, Harvey. Folks, if you haven't caught their act, get a ticket while you can. These ladies are headed for the big time faster than I can spell ka-ching!"

I switch off the dial. I have to think.

"Holy hell! This is huge! Camie and Chey have gone viral if Don is touting their act."

I squeal my tires in a full-on stop, do a tight three-point turn on the narrow road, and burn rubber, heading into the nearest small town where I've had previous business with a small-time venue owner. I'll do only what I have to do and tear back to Briarwood.

The whole way, I'm grinning from ear to ear. In the back of my mind, I know this could blow up everything Chey has tried so hard to keep under wraps. It's great news and scary news but damn it! The great is greater.

"I have to get to the girls before anyone else does. This is huge news." This time, I push the gopher's button, and the furry vermin and I sing the Caddyshack song along the way.

In a flash, I wheel into the parking lot and haul ass through the front doors. I pass the lounge, and I immediately get mauled.

"Lawless! Oh, my God! Can I have your autograph? I'm your biggest fan. Seriously! I'll frame it and put it above the bar."

I stop in my tracks, flash the iconic Lawless mean face, and scribble my character's name on a cocktail napkin he shoves into my chest. Fans. Gotta love 'em ‘cause you can't kill 'em. Well, lawfully. I wave goodbye and sigh. Then I hightail it backstage, zeroing in on the venue owner to negotiate another deal.

I don't get halfway down the tunnel.

My cell notification bell — the sound of a wrestling bell — goes off and I scroll through my social media feed.

Marty Murphy, Managing Kid Kaboodle

Then, I scroll further down. This time my eyes pop and my breathing stops. I forget all about the DJ scoop.

Raucous Entertainment Main Ring Event – Kid Kaboodle versus Frederick Lawless – Get Your Tickets Now!

I see the date. One month exactly from today.

"Holy shit! Wasn't that idiot fired for punching below the belt or taking bribes or something?" I know he's been blackballed from fighting in the A-list venues as a free agent.

I skid to a stop and run back out the way I came. No time for handshakes and paltry deals now. The countdown clock I feared was running out of time just ran out.

I burn rubber again. In my rearview, I see the owner come out and raise his arms, as if saying, "Where are you going, man?" But no time to explain. I honk my horn and wave.

I take the country corners on two wheels, one wing, and several prayers.

Our fantasy of becoming what we want with no one else knowing…turns out it surely was a fantasy. Chey and Camie are exploding on the scene as characters they aren't. And I'm exploding on the scene as a character I am and don't want to be. We three are being made to perform like monkeys in a cage. Or at least that's what it feels like to me.

My face is hot. I check myself in the mirror. Yep, I'm pissed. But what orc, or for that matter what manipulated and overused wrestler, wouldn't be?

If I get back to town by three, maybe I can catch Marty at the deli. He's always munching away on some pork stuffed delight about that time of the day.

I push the accelerator down to the floorboard. The engine roars. The RPMs rocket. Over the engine din, I talk again to the gopher.

"There has to be a way around all this. There has to be. Raucous making me fight now, and with this loser kid. Are they trying to kill my rep on purpose? It sure feels like it. And how am I going to train for that line-up and still train the girls? Even an orc can't be in two places at once. And if the HQ sees me AWOL before the fight when I'm supposed to be in ring practice full time… there's no telling what they might say. Or do. Jesus!"

I slam my fist into the steering wheel. I swear, I even see the gopher jump on his stand.

"Marty. Has he got something to do with this? Trying to get back at me?"

I don't answer my own questions. They seem trite, given the ruse I've been pulling off with the girls. It's better to deal with his immature vengeance than have our secret training be outed to the HQ. Neither one of us can afford a contract lawsuit. Chey, monetarily. Me, for my reputation.

I punch the gopher's button again. The little furry varmint dances up a storm.

This time, I don't happily sing along. I musically throw out one curse word after another. At Raucous, at Marty, at the whole shady business.

"Marty, I hope you're choking on your ham sandwich right now."

All the way into Briarwood, I leave an exhaust pipe trail of smoke and bitter disappointment. And for the first time in my life, I feel something an orc should never feel.

I feel fear.