Valets ~ Villains

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

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.

"My Cherry..." I tried to choke out.

The glare remained.

"Who the fuck were you talking to, and don't lie to me."

"I...that was..."

"Your ex-wife.  I heard you say her name.  Why the fuck were you talking to that bitch for."

Okay that was enough of this.

"Listen," my tone altered and became slightly more aggressive.  I stood up from my chair and stood face to face.  "I had to talk to her about some recent business...and I had to arrange to see my son sometime soon.  That okay with you your Grace?"

She put her hand in the air and turned around to walk away, wearily.  She stopped in her tracks though and turned around, looking at the walls with wonder.

She had never been in my study yet; that was my home of recluse, of deep thought.  And also a place where I could remember my past wrestling accomplishments.  There were photos, loads of photos.  Me and the Anarchist Regime.  Myself with El Mucho and Jeff "the Thane" Kushner as he was known then as the Triumvirate.  Myself and Leviathan in a promotional photo for the World Wrestling Alliance.  And of course a freeze frame photo of myself and Seamus the night we won the World Tag Team Championship, amongst countless others.  And, the titles I won as well, moved from my home in Wessex to be with me here in New York City.

The truth was now revealed.

"What...what the hell is all of this?" She walked around slowly and looked at the photos and the titles from the five federations I've called home.

Now was the moment of truth.  Literally, and figuratively.

I sighed heavily and sat down in the chair again, feeling my knees get weak.  I put my hand against my forehead.  I had told her I was a businessman and had to travel from time to time for various appointments and meetings.  I never had the nerve to reveal my true profession.  I believed she'd ridicule me and leave me.  I may have tried to present a brave and confident face, but inside I was still traumatized over my divorce, and unsure of how Marissah felt for me ultimately.

"Well...what do you conclude Marissah." I asked sombrely.

She turned around and looked at me.

And laughed.

"You're a fucking wrestler?"

I smirked but not with much joy.  "Yes, I'm a fucking wrestler."

She laughed again.

"You lying son of a bitch."

"Yes.  I'm sorry."  I didn't want to say anything, I just apologized.

"Do you want to tell me why you lied to me all this time."

I shook my head no.

"Say something," she demanded.

Alright.  "Can't you guess.  I somehow doubted a Louis Vuitton crazed PhD would want to be with someone involved in anything so tawdry."

Marissah continued to poke around the study.  She leaned forward and grabbed a photo off the wall, one depicting myself with Stephanie during our days in the CWF.  She turned around holding the picture in her hand.

"She used to manage you or whatever the hell she did?"

"She did."

She grinned wickedly.  "Anything she did I can do a thousand times better.  And you know that."

I thought I misheard.  Could the queen of fashion and grace herself possibly have expressed interest in doing something Stephanie rejected outright.

I was elated.  

I stood up slowly and went over to her, taking the photo from her hand and tossing it aside.  I took her in my arms and looked down at her.

"Then come with me and together we will conquer anyone who comes against us."

She laughed mischeviously.  "So what do I have to do, wear high skirts, show off my tits and hit people with chairs?"

Oh hell yes.  On all counts.  "Something along those lines," I  grinned ecstaticly.

"Well, let's seal the deal."  Marissah leaned forward and began to ingratiate me with her tongue when the whir of the fax machine broke our grasp.

"SHIT," she cursed.  "Why can't we ever have any fucking peace and quiet."  She shoved me down back onto the chair as she went over to check the fax.

"I'm popular, what can I say."

She tore the fax out in a most annoyed fashion and glanced at it quickly.  She looked up at me and smiled.

"This must be from whatever group you wrestle for."

"The CSWA," I informed.

"Okay.  You're fighting that guy who was over...Jeff what's his name."

"Kushner."

"Right."

Now the attention span I had for sex or anything sexual just thirty seconds ago was over.

A fight with Jeff.  But was it one-on-one.

"Anyone else participating in that match."

Her eyes darted around the page.  "No."

"Does it say anything else."

"It's for the CSWA Heavyweight Championship."

The darkness immediately consumed me the moment those revelations were made known unto me.

My eyes widened.  Finally.  

Finally.


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Jacobins

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