5. Cheyanne

The mirror reflects somebody I don't recognize – Disastra. It's going to take some time to get used to this look. Archimedes has been for so long, and now this… this arch-villain.

Hey girl, you wanted it, so milk it for what it's worth.

I swing my satin cape, which is a deep midnight navy. I look menacing in my matching face mask. I turn on my bare feet and face my enemy. My Hello Kitty side table lamp. The mangy feline sits there all pretty and perfect. This ceramic fur ball must go down.

I wrap my arm around the kitty's glossy neck. "Hand over your babies!" I glare at the two pillows on my bed. I imagine they're crying, shedding down tears.

"No, I won't, Disastra, you evil-doer!" cries the lamp. "I will die before I give you my squishy girls!"

I fake a take-down, roll on the floor, and imagine trapping Hello Kitty in a half Nelson. Kitty begs for her life. I've got her now. The downy girls are all mine. Ha!

I jump to my feet and throw my hands in the air. I hear the audience cheering and booing.

"Booing? At me?"

I gaze in the standing mirror, and Disastra glares back. "Of course, dummy. You're the evil doer, remember. No more Ms. Nice Gal anymore."

I plunk down on the bed and cradle the two pillows in my arms. "Don't worry, Phoebe and Patricia Pillow. I'll keep you safe."

I look up, and in the standing mirror is Disastra, not me. "Wuss." Disastra snarls.

"Yeah, but booing? From an audience who loves me? It feels weird."

Disastra hisses. "Yeah, don't it?" The masked menace cackles.

My crooked lips slowly melt into a Grinch grin.

"Hm, maybe I can get used to the booing. Maybe I can like it. Nope. I will love it! Whoo-hoo! I am Disastra, Lady of Doom!" An evil cackle escapes my mouth like I mean it. It shocks me. I giggle.

My cell lights up, and my wrestling song, Arch's March, plays.

"Hey, Liam, ‘sup?"

"‘Sup, nothing. When did you plan on telling me?"

"What?"

"Chey. Spill it. I'm losing billable hours here."

"Okay, okay. Yeah, so what? It's not like Archimedes was bringing in the fans anymore. You know more about that than most people do. If something's not working, work for something that is. Isn't that what you harp on all the time?"

I hear crickets, then a huff, and what sounds like a gulp.

"Liam, you know I hate when you drink coffee on the phone."

A throat clears on the line.

"Fine, whatever. But you decide all this and still don't ask Ronan for help? You and Dad had him in your sights last night and you stayed silent. The unquestioned champion of wrestling Doom. You'd, what, rather dream of change more than live it? You complain of low ticket sales but suffer in silence all to placate our dead mother?"

"Hey, don't hold back on my account. Who was your bedside manners professor at Harvard Law? Captain Blye?"

"Funny, Chey. Hilarious. Hey, if I don't spell it out, who will?"

"Love ya."

"Stop that! You know how I hate all that mushy crap. I'm trying to talk sense into you. Archimedes is yesterday's news."

"Love you, my cuddly jellybean!"

I hear an infuriated growl, and the line goes dead.

"Gotta love my baby brother. Who needs enemies when I have Liam?" I snicker.

I set my cell aside and look down at Liam's contact photo. He got one thing right. I really wasted that chance meeting last night. Why couldn't I have asked Ronan to train me or at least recommend some badass moves to top off my take-down arsenal?

I look down at the pillows and sucker punch them. Thankfully, they don't cry this time.

The mask and cape come off. Enough playtime. "I have to live in the real world."

The mirror catches my reflection once more. Soft, not in the least badass. I fiddle with my hair, remembering how Ronan noticed it.

Damn, he was good-looking. I mean, I knew he was by his posters and videos. But up close, holy cow. The guy has muscles on his muscles. And let's not mention that his skin tone perfectly compliments my red hair.

"Well, I'm hot, and Ronan realized it. I'm sure he did."

"Uh, Chey, I'm still on the phone."

My eyes widen as I grab my cell. "Oh, my God! Liam, you didn't hear –?"

"Every pitiful word, yes. I'm going to have to get my ears washed out."

"Hey, it's not –"

"Oh, yes, it is, and you are. You didn't melt in front of him like the rest of his adoring fans. Please tell me you didn't."

"No, gosh, no. It's not like I have some schoolgirl crush. I was my usual –"

"Morbidly shy self. Usually, that makes me cringe. But in this instance, thank God."

"I'd never go behind Mac's back, you know that. He's been a great manager, Li. And well, I'm…"

"Loyal to a fault. Yes. Which is why you're in this pickle to begin with. With Mom and your misguided notion about your brand."

"Hey, loyal is good. You should try it sometime, Mr. Player."

"Now, now, no hitting below the belt."

"Yeah, whatever. Not my fault you can't keep a girlfriend for more than one night."

Anyway, I'm not the type to use people or sidle up to them for gains. It feels weird, or it did last night. What was I supposed to say, Hi Ronan, will you train me so I can become the richest female wrestler of all time?

I hear chuckling on the line.

"Liam!"

"What? It would have been a good start to a lasting friendship and a million-dollar co-op deal. Just saying."

It's my turn to growl. "Fine. So, I screwed up. I am that desperate. I should have said something, anything, I guess. It's just…"

"What? Chey, you're driving me nuts, and I'm not making money talking with you. Spill it, or I'm charging by the hour."

"Okay, geez. I admit it. I'm lousy at networking or whatever greedy businessmen call it these days. I'm stuck in this Archimedes identity, and I'm too much of a wuss to go out and make actual changes. Okay. Now are you happy?"

I turn my head and glare at my Hello Kitty lamp, thinking I should have put it in a half-Nelson for real.

"No, Chey, I'm not. I want you to see success again. You know I do. I'm your number one fan. Always have been. Well, after Mom." I hear Liam chuckle.

"It's hard, Liam. Change is hard. But I tell you, Disastra has really got me out of my shell. When I put on that cape and mask, it's like, what shyness? Bam! I'm the Lady of Doom. And, boy, does it feel fantastic!"

"Right, so why waffle? Make the flip. Commit to change."

"But why can't I take the confidence I have in Disastra and meld it into Archimedes? Up ticket sales by upping my confidence. My moves are solid. You know that. I have a fan base. Well, what's left of it. A new outlook, a new me, that's all I need."

"Wrestling doesn't work like that, Chey. The world knows you as the soft, loving angel, the fighter for justice in the ring. No amount of confidence will change that. You need a whole new character. A whole new you in the ring."

I sigh. And I don"t care if Liam hears me sigh. "Liam, it's one thing to say it. It's quite another to do it."

"It would be less so if you let our mother rest in peace."

"That's an awful thing to say."

"Really? I see it as the truth. You're keeping her alive by holding onto Archimedes. It's as simple as that."

Silence on my end. Every word I conjure up would only hurt Liam.

"Listen. You have it all wrong, you know," Liam warns seriously. "Mom wanted success for us in whatever we did for careers. To not have to put our noses to the grindstone, work so hard, put up with so much industry abuse, and not be successful. If she saw your depleting ticket sales, Mom would be the first to make you switch. And Chey, you aren't keeping her alive by hanging on. All you're doing is hurting yourself."

Silent tears flow down my cheeks. I'm not angry with Liam. I know that deep down he's right. I just… I can't. I won't let go.

I hear Liam clear his throat. Again. "Don't do that," he huffs.

"What?"

"Don't cry. You know how I hate it when you cry."

I fake a wailing just to tick him off.

"Chey!"

"Sorry."

"You going to be okay? I seriously need to go."

"Yeah, of course. Be gone, you. I have to hit the gym, anyway."

"Okay. Talk soon?"

"Oh, I can count on your nagging being a regular thing, yes. Bye, for now, my little teddy bear."

"Chey!"

I punch the quit button. The line goes dead. For real this time.

With my workout clothes donned and my duffle bag over my shoulder, I grab my keys and hit the road. No matter how mixed up my mind is, my body needs its daily workout routine. Something in my life has to be predictable. Something.

I pull out into the street and check my rearview mirror. "You hear that, Lady of Doom? Let's hit the ring and try out some new badass moves. My life won't change itself."