-------  01.19.07  Day and Night - Part I

I: Friday, January 12, 2007, Baltimore, Maryland

He's in Armani.  A black suit with white ribbed dress shirt, unbuttoned somewhat, from the spring/summer 2007 collection.

He pulls up in a 2007 Jaguar XKR in front of this middle-class suburban neighbourhood home.  To say the car stood out from the rest of the vehicles driving to and fro in the area would be quite the understatement.

He double checks his Blackberry and make sure this is the correct address.  He examines the the numbers on the house.

This has to be it.

The poor thing, locked indoors in this squalor.  His Rolex reads 8:30 am.  He's  not a moment too soon to begin his quest to shatter yet another of His Commandments.

Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery.

By the end of this day...

He releases his seat belt, switch on the car alarm, and reach to the passenger side and takes the neatly wrapped box with him, which is punctuated by a single black rose.

He walks up the path to the door.

And knocks firmly.

Inside, Heidi is standing in the kitchen.  Having woken and showered, she's currently engrossed in the preparation of breakfast, chopping celery.

"DAWN!  DOOR!"

No answer.

With a sigh, Heidi puts the knife down and heads to the front door.  She's wearing an old, loose fitting black T-shirt and a pair of running pants.

She swings the door open, and freezes, her eyes flying wide open in alarm.

He removes his Ray-Bans.  His eyes are natural, blue.  He stares at her momentarily in her simple athletic get-up.

"Miss Christenson.  Good morning."

"Avarice."

Instead of saying anything rash, Heidi leans against the door frame with her shoulder, waiting for him to explain himself.  Behind Heidi, Dawn comes half way down the stairs, startles, and bolts back up them, out of sight.

He is irritated by her using his in-ring name.

"It's Robert.  Please.  And do forgive this intrusion," as he sees Dawn scurry out of view.

"I was wondering if you were free for a little chat and dinner tonight."

He knew it would sound odd, asking for dinner at 8:30 in the morning.  Yet she was kept unaware.

"A chat? What about?"

She tried to keep her tone neutral while observing his actions and emotions, even though she knew he was better at this routine than she was for the most part.

"About..." he searched, and tried to reach out to her inner intelligence.  "...the unknown?  And speaking of which, please do accept this."

He handed the box with the single black rose to her, not taking his eyes off hers for a moment.

"With my deepest regard."

She looked down at it.

"And affection."

The last black rose Avarice had given her was, as far as she knew, lying on top of a row of lockers in the OLW arena, brown and decrepit.  She'd forgotten it up until now.

"...Thank you."

She turns to go inside.

"If you'd like, you can sit in the living room for a bit."

He nods his head graciously.  "Thank you dear lady," with every ounce of his English accent straining to emphasize, lady.

To him Heidi was more than an athletic woman - she was a lady, yearning for release.

He enters the house and finds himself seated on a rather plush couch.  The seconds go by slowly, as he waits for her return...with hopes that she would open what was in the box, and grace his eyes, and his mind, with what was inside.

Heidi, her mind racing, pulls a small vase off the top of the refrigerator, fills it with water and places the rose within it before returning it where she found it. 

She doesn't trust Avarice in the slightest.  It's not that she's unused to being desired by various men. Rather, she prefers it to being dismissed as a competitor based on her gender.  But Avarice is...well...Avarice.

But he has connections. 

He could not have planned it this way, at least, she fervently hopes.  But when he called her a lady...he was the second person to call her that.

The first person to do so also called her "Bloody Heidi."

Finding who did this, finding who her 'admirer' was... it's become nearly an obsession.  Ever since Brad Andrews called her that in a restaurant.  It wasn't him, she's sure of it, but she finally has a place to start looking.

She walks back out into the living room.

"Where did you have in mind for dinner, Robert?"

He stands up upon her return.

He plays it coy.  Over-eagerness becomes no man.

"I know a place, out of town.  But it requires what is in the box."

He hopes deeply that her curiosity will get the best of her.  He knows this could all backfire horrendously, and could result in his simply being shown the door.  However, having even gotten to the living room, was one step closing to getting her inside a bedroom.

So he thought.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoes down from the ceiling.  Heidi looks up at them, and then down at the box, sitting on the sofa.

"This is... for me?"

He nods quietly, a small smile forming across his lips.  He yearns for her to adore it.

Heidi slowly opens the box.  Reaching in, she sees folds of something black.  Slowly withdrawing it...

She stands, allowing the dress to slowly unfurl itself, reaching full length.

Despite herself, she's greatly impressed.

"It's beautiful, Robert... " 

She pauses, a question occurring to her.

"Does Marissah know about this?"

Shit is the only thought that crosses his mind.  Why did she have to spoil the moment by conjuring up her name.

He lies.

"She knows I am here with an express purpose.  I will make it all clear.  Please.  Believe me."

Avarice - Robert Lancaster - cannot know, but Cole Christenson, in the second floor bathroom, has his ear pressed to the ventilation grate, listening to every word of the conversation.  Heidi is reasonably certain of this.

"...All right.  I'll go with you."

She isn't surprised as the heavy footsteps ring out again, this time heading for the stairs, and down. 

Cole, still unshaven and his hair still uncombed, thuds down the stairs and into the living room. 

"You're crazy, Heidi.  You can't do that."

Both Heidi and Lancaster turn angry gazes on her younger brother.

"Cole, this is my decision.  I appreciate your concern, but I'm going."

His eyes shut for a few seconds, and when they open, he's staring at Avarice with hatred radiating so fiercely that Heidi almost wants to flinch.

"If she choose to go, then I can say nothing.  But if any harm comes to her, I will rip you apart with my bare hands.  Do not dare doubt me."

He turns on his heel, retreating up to the second floor.  Heidi sighs.

"Shall I get changed so we can leave?"

Attempting to ignore her belligerent brother, he nods again. "Yes.  Please."

She slides him a quick smile as she sets off.  He watches her curves move as she leaves eyeshot.

The Duke of Wessex laughs with quiet contempt at Cole's threats.  He's heard it all.  Seen it all.

In the bathroom, she sighs.  There's second thoughts, as always.   But her common sense, which is screaming for her to return the dress and order Avarice out of her house and her life, is drowned out by a shadowy voice, repeating a phrase over and over again.

Bloody Heidi.  Bloody Heidi.

She swears softly between her teeth.  Her reflection in the mirror is flushed, and angrily, she opens it, revealing the cabinet inside.  A small orange bottle with a white lid sits directly in front of her eyes.

Rohypnol.

So quickly that she doesn't have time to realize what she's doing, her jogging clothes are on the floor, the dress is over her head, and the little orange bottle is in her purse.

She looks at her reflection in the mirror.  It's a lot more skin than she's used to showing, and it raises goosebumps along her arms.  At the same time, her face is still flushed.  She quickly splashes some cold water on it, doing the goosebumps no good, dries it on a hand towel and walks back into the living room.

Once more the Duke of Wessex arises.  She is indeed a vision.

The Armani dress flows off her like silk.  Her chest is pleasantly accentuated. 

He approaches her slowly, and takes her hand.

"You are indeed beautiful dear lady."  He kisses it softly, and releases it, for fear of causing her discomfort.

One false move and it is over.

She doesn't have to work to keep her expression closed.  Her face feels leaden.  She forces a smile.  Small, pleasant, the tips of her white teeth just barely showing through her lips.

"Well...shall we go?"

"Yes.  Let us."

They depart the living room and the door, holding it open for her.  He opens the passenger side door of the Jaguar, and slams it shut.

He revs the engine as a classical music CD bursts to life with strains of violin and piano.

"I do hope you enjoy the restaurant.  I've been to it quite a few times, and have never been disappointed."

He pulls away from in front of the house and heads towards the Interstate.

As they drive, the thought hits her.  Trying not to be alarmed, knowing that it's not like she's helpless in a fight, she turns to her host.

"If this is a dinner outing, why have you picked me up so early?"

"As I said," he remarks non-chalantly, "it's a bit out of town."

One of his favourite concertos starts.  The music increases.

"Do you like classical music?  I should have asked what your music preferences are," attempting to distract her from his surprise.

"I haven't listened to classical since high school... though it does make a nice change from 'The Murder City Devils and Down.'"  She refers to the favorite bands of Jeff Andrews and Cole Christenson respectively.  "Your choice is fine with me."

He had no doubts in his mind that he would find her culturally aware.

"So tell me Heidi.  A woman of your skill.  Intelligence."  He glances at her briefly before switching lanes.

"Why Jefferson Andrews."

She shakes her head.

"Because I fell in love with him in middle school?  Because when I first met him, he was a truly good hearted person?  Does it really bother you that I associated with him in the past?"

The Englishman runs through the mind the various sordid women he himself associated with in his youth, never mind the few girls he macked on while spending the year homeless in London all those years ago.

"No.  I suppose we've all been down that road.  I'm sorry if he remains a...touchy subject."

"He's not the person I fell in love with anymore, and hasn't been for years.  It may amuse you to know that my brother completely agrees with your view of him... but I miss who he used to be."

She looks out the window, wondering where they're headed.

"So if you don't mind me asking... why Marissah?  She seems rather..."

Heidi cuts the thought off before she finishes it. 

"A bitch?  Conniving?  Evil?"

He laughs gently to himself, and accelerates the vehicle.

"She's also passionate.  Dynamic.  Exciting.  If you haven't noticed, I live and thrive on stimulation."

He pushes the car to 90 mph as he finishes his last few words.

"...I can see that."  She looks down at the speedometer nervously.  "As the Duke of Wessex, do you have diplomatic immunity from speeding tickets?  Or do you just not care?"

He grins.

"I just want to get to where we're going as fast as we can.  Speaking of which, I can see it in the distance."

The Baltimore-Washington International Airport suddenly creeps into view.  Planes from Delta to British Airways to Air Canada stand at the ready.

Again, Heidi is neither afraid nor intimidated.  She's actually rather curious about what Avarice has in mind.

"...why are we heading to the airport?  Are you taking me to dinner in Italy?" she asks jokingly.

"Perhaps not this time.  How's Paris at one of the best restaurants on the planet."

Her mind races. 

She's not oblivious.  She knows what Avarice wants.  And out of the country, aside from her modest ability at physical combat, she has little to fall back on.  She hasn't even tried to speak French since graduating from high school nearly a decade ago.

But if Avarice is willing to go this far...

He just may be willing to help her.

Her admirer won't remain secret for much longer, and once it's out in the open, it will be almost impossible to control.

Still, her brother and best friend will be furious. 

Reaching into her purse, her hand touches the orange bottle she threw in there, and she yanks it back as if shocked.

"Paris... sounds exciting."

The words are out of her mouth before she realizes she's spoken.

"Have you ever flown first class?"

Her use of the word excitement indeed generated similar reactions in him.

"Twice before.  Do you remember the CAL pay-per-view card, Myths and Legends?  The CAL staff flew me first class from Miami to Las Vegas, and back again.  Though honestly, I was so dazed on painkillers I remember very little about it."

Shortly before that time, her knee had been severely injured when a man named Lawrence Cheung struck it with a pipe.

"That is a pity...oh, and you're not flying first class."

The Duke parks in front of the terminal to have his car parked, pre-arranged with the airport.

Out of the car he goes, and opens the door for his focal point of interest.

"You're taking my private Lear Jet."

Thirty minutes is all it took to clear out, and they were in the air, thanks to his having arranged clearance with customs and all beforehand.

He already reached for the Dom Perignon Champagne.

"Robert, before you break out the alcohol, I just have to ask you one question, if you don't mind."

He filled a second glass with the exquisite liquid.

"Ask."

She takes the glass, but does not drink.

"Why are you doing this?  Why do you want to fly me to Paris for dinner?  What, exactly, do you want from me?"

With the utmost sincerity the Duke of Wessex turns and extends a hand with the glass of champagne.

"I want to know you.  To help you.  To explore different realms together.  To see what lurks where no man - nobody," he corrects himself, "has tried before."

"Interesting."  She takes a very small sip of the champagne, tasting it carefully.  "Meaning no offense by the question, why do you think I need help?  Have I not been doing well enough for myself as of late?"

He sits down gently next to Heidi and looks at her.

"I do not mean that with any sense of condescension or pretension whatsoever.  You are the black jewel of OLW.  All I wish is to see you shine further.  And when my time as champion ends."

He remains silent momentarily and looks at her.

Lancaster stands up and heads to a bag, and pulls out the OLW Imperial Heavyweight Championship.  Even in the soft light of the Lear cabin, its diamonds and platinum fixtures shine brilliantly.

He sits with her once more and lays it on his lap.

"Nothing would make me happier to see your beauty accentuated with this in your arms."

"It is beautiful," she remarked.  She hands it back to him.  "I won't need your help winning this.  And I don't drink this early in the morning - if ever."

Fair enough he thought.

"A shame to waste such fine champagne."

He takes the glass and guzzles it in moments, before turning to his own glass, and imbibing it just as fast.

"So what shall we do for entertainment on this thing."

"I'm open to suggestions, dear lady," an eye passing over her cleavage quickly - something she can't help but notice, and resent, but stays silent.

"Well..."  She scanned the room with her eyes.  "I see you have a television here, and there's a movie I've been meaning to watch for ages, but I've just never found time."

"And that is?" He asks.

She smiles wryly.  "The Untouchables."

The irony was not lost on him.  Fortunately he had the movie, and more than enough champagne to pass the time.

Hours passed.

They disembarked the Lear and were met by a Rolls-Royce those several hours later at Charles de Gaulle International.

"Welcome to Paris."

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