Ladies in Waiting

Scene I: in the air over the United States - Sunday, October 19, 2003

The bastard.

The match was not enough.

I hardly had time to lay a finger on him, or grasp my hands around his throat.  I only had the satisfaction of choking him with the banner of our beloved faction before all hell broke loose.  

He must be satisfied in knowing he had his chance to strike me, too.

But he did enough damage in other ways.

The moment I saw her again, I froze.  Paralyzed with confusion, shock, longing, dismay, lust, love, anger, hatred, loathing. What was she doing there with him?  And looking all too bloody cozy.

The bastard.

The bastard.

After the end of Wildfire I managed to get into my car and immediately drive out to the airport to get me the hell out of there and on my way back to home to NYC via JFK on the Lear.  I pouned on my laptop and tried to watch the show online through the available premium services which I subscribed to.  And there I heard the conversation I missed.

Seemed innocent enough.  But of course it would if they knew it was being recorded live.  Who the hell knows what went on in that locker room, probably a lot more than just exchanging phone numbers.

I don't put anything past him.  Not now, not any longer.  I know his tactics.  

Mind games.  And I do oh so love them.  But he wishes to play them, I'll show him that I am second to none in that realm.  This war will be as much psychology as physical lambasting.  That I guarantee.  And that I shall deliver to him in a full frontal assault the next time our paths should cross, inside the ring, outside the ring, anywhere.

Any day.

Any time.

But that time had to wait.

For now I could not wait.  I wanted to, so badly...

To call her.  Ask what the hell went on in there.  Not that she'd tell me; but I NEED to know...why was she really there.  Why would she spite me like this.  Surely it can't be over the Kathy thing any longer.  Maybe it was.  Or maybe she did it...just because.

I knew what she too was capable of.  After we reconciled she told me of her vile counciling to the likes of Leviathan during our tenure in the WWA.  She was the Lady Macbeth of professional wrestling.  And she developed a taste for that role, greatly. And I cannot and will not dismiss that she will play a factor in any attempt of Jeff's to destroy me.

Still the curiousity, the lust for knowledge consumes me.  I wanted to pick up the satellite phone and call her and demand an explanation.  

I sit seething, my teeth gritting in tune with the rhythmic humming of the Lear's Rolls-Royce engine.  I stand up and pace around, my legs still hurting like a bitch after the X-Calibre, and eye the satellite phone that sat parked in its cradle, almost taunting me to call and get a defiant tongue lashing for my efforts.

But it would be worth it, just to get any shred of information whatsoever possible.  I could ask the Champion for himself, but I would somehow believe that the lines of communication between us are shut down, save for perhaps Seamus.  Even then he'd receive my comrade with hostility.

And of course, waiting for her to open up to me would be futile at best.

I have to be strong.  There is no use doing anything about it right now.  If at all.  What they discussed will either materialize into nothingness, or perhaps, at the next event.

Patience, Lancaster.  Patience.

To home, and to my lady in waiting, Marissah, who I did call to let her know that I would be home a few hours from now.  I would ease my mind and my body in bed, with her.


Scene II: New York City, New York - Trump International Hotel & Tower - Sunday, October 19, 2003

I got home well past midnight eastern time to find Marissah sound asleep in my bed.  I tried to make as little noise possible but my invariable shuffling around awoke her.  I smiled and waved at her as she rubbed her eyes wearily stepping out of my bedroom, wearing comfy cotton jammies.

"Who are you on the phone with," she queried.

I placed a finger to my lips and mouthed "One second" as I walked away and unlocked the study, pulling the door behind me.

I sat down and hoping to God that she couldn't hear began talking.

"Stephanie, it's me.  Listen, we need...to talk.  I need to know when I can come to see Edward...I haven't seen him in such a long time.  And besides...I saw you in Winnipeg talking to Jeff.  You've always been open with me, so please don't stop here...thank you."

I hung up my phone and sighed.  I could have cursed her out to the ends of the earth but I somehow managed to make it through the message without losing composure.  I knew she must have blocked my number or something on my mobile, because it rang and rang repeatedly until suddenly every time I tried to call it instantly hit her answering service.  

"Shit."  I only cursed my weakness.  I knew she would never talk to me about what went down and now I sounded like a bitter, grovelling idiot.  

Treason though must be revealed at any cost.  And the cost of degrading myself was well worth it.  The extra cost when I turned around and saw Marissah there, glaring at me...that was a different matter.


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