8. Ronan

"You're making a mistake, Mike. Cheyanne's new character will be the best yet. Your loss to your amateur event line-up, not mine."

I slam the promoter's door.

So much for the amateur league. They call it amateur for a reason.

I figured my new character would be an easy sell to the B team. What the hell do I know?

Onto to bigger fish. Man, I could eat.

I'm sure Cheyanne hasn't clued into my plans for her, which is just as well. One argument with industry insiders today is enough. Maybe I'm lost as to my career, but I know what she needs.

My footsteps out of the arena are lighter than I thought they'd be leaving Mike's office and his basket full of no's. Somehow, winning in Cheyanne's camp is a bigger priority for me. That's not something an orc says every day.

I smile, get into my car, and hoof it to make it to meet Cheyanne for dinner.

"She's going to need more than just a few new moves as an arch-hero. Chey will have to learn to perform more aggressively. Oh, my God, now I'm talking to myself?" I know better than to tell Cheyanne I was testing the waters out for her with promoters, but at least I can make some suggestions for her next show. I'm just not sure yet what those suggestions should be.

I continue the self-talk. What the hell?

"Prob is, she can't perform as anyone but Archimedes under her current contract. That is a problem that needs a workaround."

My mind's eye wanders back to the other day when I had her perform for me. Her moves, the passion. She has it all. She's merely a diamond in the rough.

I wander back to thoughts of my own failing career.

"Damn that Marty. I slight him, and he goes atomic on the revenge and calls in favors to blackball me all over town. Leprechauns and their penchant for grudges. Right, it's the old if I can't have you, no one will bullshit. And so, no events like I planned. No way to sell my plan to agents or promoters. Not for me, not for Cheyanne. I'm temporarily toast, as a fighter and trainer."

Testing the waters for both of us is a wash. For me, I at least parted ways with my old trainer, but that seems to have bitten me in the ass since Marty warned everyone off working with me. But Cheyanne needs to be even more careful – she's still under contract by Raucous and both the head honchos there and her real trainer, Mac, will be pissed if they catch her moonlighting.

Not that I can get her a gig anyway, not with Marty's tricks. Besides, the big wigs have memories like squirrels. You're only as powerful as your last bulk of ticket sales.

Training Chey the other day got me juiced. I want more of that. And I know if I work with her, Joseph will be on my side. And with his new franchise monopoly, that could be a good thing down the road. New franchise. New contract. New career. New life.

If I play my cards right.

Once I get to the restaurant, I can't help staring at Chey as she walks up the path. What a beauty. Muscles and curves in all the right places. Then I shake it off, remembering this is just supposed to be a casual, friendly meal.

During dinner — roasted wild boar, my favorite — Chey more or less assures me again that she has a feeling she'll be able to get her dad on my side, no matter how pissed off Marty is. I figure helping Cheyanne with her own career and being on her good side can't hurt that matter, so I plan to keep at it.

But I sure as hell breathe better during the meal, for more reasons than one. Her dad has more pull than Marty ever could. I don't totally understand why she doesn't just go work for him as Disastra, and nothing she says at the dinner really helps explain it.

"To gel your performance, you have to execute your new moves in front of an audience," I advise her. "Not as Archimedes. As Disastra. Your passion lives there, and it's that which will sell it to your fans. You need your father's help."

Cheyanne shakes her head. "Oh, no. I'm not running to Dad every time I screw up. I have to prove I can do this on my own. You and everyone else say I need to put my mom to rest and with her, Archimedes. So why would I repeat the same mistake with my dad? It's about time I succeeded or screwed up as my own woman."

"Yeah, sure, I get that, but –"

"But nothing. Ro, maybe I'm one of those wrestlers who strikes pay-dirt on her first character re-write? It's happened before. And maybe going all-in with Disastra at this point is too much. The alter ego is full-on ice cold. Black ink flows through Disastra's veins. Maybe injecting some of her moves as Archimedes is a way to safely test the waters."

I lean forward at the dinner table. "Chey, first you want a full character change. Now, you're talking about a safe bleed-in of moves on your old persona. What do you really want? You can't have both. You know, in your heart of hearts, that won't work."

"It'll work. Why not? No, my mind is settled. I want to inject some badass moves into Archimedes' repertoire. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

Cheyanne grabs her wine glass and takes a big gulp.

I grab a boar hind leg and gnaw.

Neither one of us knows how to make sense of the other.

* * *

The next day back at the gym, when we are getting prepped for the ring, thoughts swirl. I question Chey's allegiance to a character that has seen better days. I get the tie-in with her late mother, but it feels like there's so much more here. Something unspoken.

Orcs aren't afraid of anything, but this beauty in front of me is having me tread as if on eggshells. I secretly admire her power over me.

"Listen, there are reasons, okay? Financial reasons, branding contract responsibilities, you know. It's complicated."

I nod, but I know she's gaslighting me. This is what everyone says in the industry when they feel the need to back a dead horse. How she doesn't realize this is beyond me. After all my years in, how does she think I wouldn't smell empty excuses when they're thrown at me? I veer around that hot potato and change the subject.

"Right. Uh-huh. I've seen some of your performances. Not live, of course. On tape. The ones you did with your mom. They were damn good. I'm not blowing smoke, Chey. You two had something special in the ring, no doubt."

I see her face brighten. I quietly exhale. But the wall is still up. I continue to tread carefully.

"Yes, well, I thank you for that." Chey quickly warms up her limbs. Anything to have her head down to avoid my gaze, I figure.

I suppress a smile, but all I can think is, man, talk about Beauty and the Beast.

Mentioning her mom turns out to be a faux pas. I've upset her. I know it.

"Don't forget your mouthguard." I hand it to her.

"Thanks." She stuffs it in but keeps her head low. I no longer question the aversion. She's getting into the zone. We all have our ways.

"Ronan, I don't need my father's help. I'm not some helpless woman, you know?"

"Never said you were. What females who become wrestlers are?"

"I'm determined to reinvent myself on my own, on my own terms. Surely, you can appreciate that, given what you're trying to do in your own career."

"Yes, of course, I –"

"And who says it has to be all of nothing? I'm trying to keep the career I have. Not blow it to smithereens on a mere whim. How is that being smart?"

"No, you're –"

"I just need to inject some new key moves. I show the power of good over evil. The fans will lap it up. You can see that, can't you?"

Cheyanne is so focused. I'm impressed more by her actions than her words. I've never met a woman like Cheyanne. She's a force. Nobody has had me back up in a chair before. Damn. I like it. I really like that.

Cheyanne jogs in place to maintain her heartbeat.

"It's not to say I won't commit to a mind cleansing of sorts. You know, coaching, counseling on how to mentally approach the newfound me. In and out of the ring. I'm prepared for that."

I nod. I hear her words. I'm not buying what she's selling, but it's too early to tell if I have her psychological number yet. I give her space to set up her moves. As she spaces them out, we continue the talk.

"My schedule is light with events these next few months. That'll give me time to develop Disastra and get more comfortable with the character. If I'm not confident, it'll show in the ring. Every self-doubt always does."

I nod. Fewer words from me, more thinking from her. As a trainer, you have to know when less is more.

"What I'm trying to say, Ronan, is that I need to keep my life the way it is. Just improve it. Not change it."

"Yes. I get that."

I lie through my razor-sharp teeth. I know for a fact Chey is in for the shocker of her life. Her fans will see through her half-assed attempt at career restoration. Man, I wouldn't be surprised if they actually boo her in the next event. A heroine being booed. It'll kill her. But I know a dried-up brand when I slam into one.

The last thought I have as I watch her go through her show is simple and to the point. That girl is overflowing with passion. None of it lives in Archimedes.