28. Cheyanne

During my training break, I search the floor and find Dee Dee scrolling through social media, following her favorite wrestlers. I tap her on the shoulder.

"Hey, you. I've been looking for you. I come bearing gifts."

Dee Dee looks up from the screen, her mouth agape. "Looking for me? You never look for me. Nobody ever looks for me. And gifts, too?" The swampster smiles so widely I can see algae stains on her razor-sharp teeth, and I shudder on the inside.

I laugh. "Well, if that's true, that no one seeks you out, then it's about time we correct that, right? Listen, I want you to have two free tickets to my Disastra show. It's the least I can do."

"Wow! Thanks. The least you can do? What do you mean? What did I do, or not do, to deserve this?"

I sit down beside her on the bleacher. "It's a peace offering, I guess you could call it. Dee Dee, I forgive you for telling Raucous Entertainment about my new character. I'm sure it was you being excited. Not from any nefarious intention."

Dee Dee blinks repeatedly, like she's trying to digest what I've just said, the words not computing in her swampster mind.

"Tell Raucous about your new Disastra character? Oh, Cheyanne. If someone did that awful thing, it wasn't me. Cross my heart and hope to drown in a swamp. I adore you and your Archimedes character. And you know how I want to be a wrestler myself someday. To go behind a future fellow wrestler's back like that… Nope, never, ever would I do that. If someone has betrayed you like that, he or she is still out there. I swear that person is not me." Dee Dee crosses her heart with her exorbitant claws.

I sit up, shocked by what the swampster said. I stare into space, my mind racing. How did I get this so wrong? And I kick myself for being so dumb. Dee Dee is a groupie supreme. But she's never been malicious. Why was I so quick to assume she would start now?

"Then that means someone else was in the gym, in the locker room, maybe. Maybe someone overheard us talking about it."

"Yep. ‘Cause it wasn't me." Dee Dee crosses her heart.

I've known Dee Dee long enough, and I know when she's telling the truth. She is. And she's right. There is someone else wanting to hurt me and my career. But thinking it could be someone far more dangerous than an out-of-control groupie makes my heart race.

"Oh, Dee Dee, please accept my apology for wrongly accusing you. I know you're right. There are tattlers in this industry, but you're not one."

* * *

It's all I can do to bury in my mind the idea there's a snitch lurking in Briarwood's wrestling community. One who has it out for me in the worst way. But as I pull into the Raucous building parking lot, I shut down the thought. It won't help me here and now.

Dad and I are about to meet with the Raucous owners and their high-brow lawyers to hash out a deal. All my focus and energy have to be put into this head-to-head match up. It's my future at stake. The actual wrestling fights don't land on the center ring mat. They land on a boardroom table. A place where my training has no home.

I see dad's SUV already in the lot and I park alongside him. He has his game face on. My dad has been through these corporate hoops a thousand times. Thank God he's on my side. I wave and offer a light-hearted smile even though I'm quaking inside.

Dad opens his car door, takes my hand, and helps me up. "Are you ready, sweetie?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." I feel his hand. It's dry and warm. That spells confidence to me.

My dad stares me straight in the eyes. "Okay, now, listen. Unless you're asked a direct question, stay quiet and let our lawyers fight it out. We have our team. They have theirs. This is where we wrestlers stay put in our corners."

I chuckle. "Not exactly our strong suit, huh, Dad?"

Dad chuckles. "No, Cheyanne. It's not. People like us are born for the ring. We only have three speeds. Sleeping, training, and fighting. But this is not a wrestling ring. C'mon. Let's head into the lion's den and hope we don't get bit in the butt."

I offer a weak smile, nod my head, and follow my dad's lead. My stomach does gymnastic flips of its own. As the two of us get ever closer to the front door, my urge to flee increases, but I know I have to stay strong. I'd rather have three orcs against me in a ring than have to endure this legal skirmish.

We reach the boardroom on the penthouse floor. Through the glassed-in space, I see a bevy of briefs sitting on either side of the massive, burled walnut table. It looks like a double ticket slam-up, only the wrestlers are wearing thousand-dollar business suits. I stifle a smirk.

Not funny, Chey. Not funny at all. Well, kind of funny. No, not funny.

After small talk niceties, de rigeur handshakes, and coffees handed round by a well-meaning secretary, both sides get down to business. Our lawyers start the rumble, preamble-free.

"We are buying Cheyanne O'Malley's new character, Disastra. We have a cashier's check for $35,000 for the sale and another cashier's check of $15,000 from Cheyanne for payment in breaching her contract and working outside of Raucous' contractual agreement."

Our lead lawyer slides both checks to the middle of the grand table.

The Raucous briefs flash no tells, but they also don't reach for the money orders. I'm at a loss if that's a good or bad sign. The rules outside of the wrestling ring are not obvious to me.

Fritz clears his throat and speaks up. "It might as well be put into the record now." He looks towards a stenographer taking minutes. "Lottie came to us. She said she overheard a conversation involving the Disastra development, and she felt we had a right to know."

I stay mum like Dad orders, but my brain just about short-circuits, and none of what I'm thinking is good.

A troll, trolling me. Figures. That smarmy little, well, troll! Nothing good comes from trolls!

It's all I can do to stop myself from rocketing out of the place and slamming that no-good chick from here to kingdom come.

Settle, petal. I breathe in. I breathe out.

I know it's not earth-shattering news. One wrestler climbing over another to get in good with the executive is hardly even news. But after all I've done to help Lottie, I thought we were friends. I'm pissed. I'm more than pissed. No honor among thieves? Try no honor among wrestlers. I'm beyond disillusioned. I'm hurt.

Our lead brief clears his throat. "We appreciate Raucous' position. And that is why Cheyanne is gladly paying the fine. We believe this is a fair settlement for all concerned." The brief smiles and puffs his chest out like he's won the first round of the boardroom battle.

My stomach gurgles. I glance up to see if anyone else hears it. No one does.

I look over at Dad, and his face is stone. He's a better poker player than me, obviously. Or he's been through so many of these bullshit negotiations that nothing fazes the old man. All I feel for him is pure love and such pride.

The Raucous lead lawyer finally opens his mouth.

"That's all well and good. But the owners have one caveat. Chey will play Archimedes one final time. And she will fight against Lottie. Lottie will kill Archimedes in the ring. This is a non-negotiable point. Cheyanne commits to this final bout, and Disastra is hers. She will be free from all Raucous contractual requirements."

My eyes pop. My mouth opens, but no words escape. Not because of what my dad said earlier. Because I am speechless. I have to do what? Fight who? Archimedes must die so that Disastra can live? I spy a trash can in the corner of the room, and I think I want to barf.

Someone, I don't register who, adjourns the meeting and people file out.

I'm left sitting there alone with my dad. My father's stone face melts into shock.

"Dad? What the hell just happened here?"

My father clears his throat. "Honestly, I don't know. I thought this would be cut and dried. We buy you out. We pay the fine. We shake hands. Done and dusted. And this? What the hell is this? This is…"

"Payback, dad. That's what this is. They're punishing me for going behind their backs. Fritz and Lena. Damn it, I used to look at them as family. I've been so duped. I've been had. Ronan is right. This industry chews wrestlers up and spits them out, and as long as the bottom line is in the black, nobody gives a damn."

The boardroom stays empty. I look around and realize where we still are.

"Dad, let's get the hell out of here. This is enemy territory. If I don't leave this minute, I could march right into Lena's office and punch her lights out."

"And I'd do the same with Fritz. And then we'd be facing lawsuits, too. Let's go."

Dad gets up and holds the door open for me.

Before I leave, I walk over to the trash can, pick it up, and throw all the refuse on the boardroom table. I cast the bin aside. It makes a clanging sound as it hits the floor. I wipe my hands, smile, and leave. At least I did something to offer payback of my own.