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02.12.07 Night and Day - Part
II
I:
Friday, January 12, 2007, Paris, France
Heidi looks around, trying
not to
appear overly impressed as the car
speeds off into the Paris night. But the sensation is new to
her. You see something only in pictures. Van Gogh's
infamous
"Starry Night," for example. And then, when the painting is on
tour in an art museum near your home, and you see it live, it's almost
like falling into a world you thought only existed in two dimensions.
The Eiffel Tower rises up into the sky and she looks at it. A
swift feeling of vertigo, and she has to look back down.
"It's... very impressive."
She forces a smile, still trying to
take it all in.
"You see..." he leans
over and whispers in her ear. "This is what
being a...partner with His Grace the Duke of Wessex gets you.
This is just a taste of things to come if you so desire. But
don't get me wrong."
"I am not here to corrupt you
with bribes and lavishness. I still
want what lurks inside you. I want you and I to be inseparable in
that ring. As a force we could be unstoppable."
And now, she thinks, is time to broach the subject of the
admirer. If he wants nothing to do with it, she thinks, she can
still back out. She has enough money and command of the language
to book her a flight home, and he wouldn't dare touch her in a public
setting.
"I know we could become
unstoppable...and I know there are
benefits. In fact, there's one particular one I'm interested
in."
She pauses to let him respond.
"Save it for dinner.
We're here."
They pull up in front of the Plaza Athénée which is
managed by one of the finest chefs in the world, Monsieur Alain
Ducasse. They enter the sumptuous setting and are escorted to
their table. The Duke sits with slight caution, after pulling out
Heidi's chair for her - the copious amounts of champagne seemingly
affecting him.
She sits down easily and gracefully. "Are you all right?"
Lancaster rubs his temple slowly and forces through a smile. "I'm
fine love. After this many years of drinking you'd think seven
glasses of champagne would affect a man less. But I'll be
fine. I'm famished."
The waiter for the evening - a Monsieur Tim - handed them their
menus. A mouth-watering offering, and Lancaster is right at home
as
he wastes no time in ordering wine.
"A bottle of Château
Lafite Rothschild 1949, Monsieur." 1677 Euros for wine was
second nature.
Heidi's eyes widen, impressed
in spite of herself.
"I know you're not one to
drink, but I truly do think you'd enjoy this
one. It goes very well with red meat, or even pheasant or quail,
to my amazement. Otherwise, I do recommend the Perrier, it's
excellent."
He tries to turn on the charm - unknowing if it'll get him anywhere, or
just sarcastic rolling of the eyes.
The eye rolling, indeed, would have been Heidi's natural
response. But that internal monologue that's been ticking ever
since Avarice showed up at her door, again, warns her against it.
"Thank you." She
dips her head.
He slips his hand across the table, and caresses hers. He
reciprocates her thanks.
"Thank you Heidi for a magical day thus
far. You are a special
girl."
She freezes. And then, when she speaks, it seems like she's
somehow away from her voice. Like something within her has taken
consciousness and is walking forward, unconcerned with her.
"You...amaze me, Robert.
I have known wrestlers who were
fighters, even warriors, and wrestlers who were strategic
masters. But there is something within you that I've never seen
anywhere else."
Robert - not Avarice. He is enraptured.
Her voice pauses. She feels somewhat shaken inside, but does not
break eye contact, does not pull her hand away.
Inside him wells a feeling he had not experienced in years. He
had never heard such words spoken before, including by either of his
wives. He knew he had someone special - and must retain it at any
cost. At that moment she became more than a target of sexual
lust. She, like he believed himself to do, evolved, to something
even greater.
"You can see..." he
stalls, still a bit shaken. "You can see that
the darkness I live in is pure. It is not for show. I am
malicious.
Sadistic. But those whom I value - whom I endear - I will fight
with, and for, with every fibre of my being."
He squeezes her hand firmer, savouring its silkiness.
"You have entered that realm."
And she smiles. Just barely. Hardly more than an upwards
twitch from the corners of her lips. But she continues to watch
Avarice, and she lowers her eyelids just a bit.
"Then...perhaps, may I confide
in you?"
"I am a vessel into which you
may empty your soul. Do so."
His gaze locks.
"Before that, may I ask
something? We've discussed Jeff
before. But what do you think of his cousin, Brad?"
He is a bit deflated, but he carries on.
"Brad Andrews?
Talented. Unreliable."
The wine arrives at that moment, as Monsieur Tim shows the Duke and
Heidi the bottle. He nods, it is uncorked, and Lancaster samples
a bit. He nods his head and both glasses are filled. They
tell him they need a few minutes more for ordering, and he shuffles off.
"Anyway. Need I say
more? What is your opinion then..."
"Brad reminds me of
you...to an extent. He, like you,
devotes his life solely to malice. But he is not
intelligent. He will never amount to anything, never compare to
you in the slightest...and yet he is the only person in wrestling I
truly fear. Please, hear me."
"Brad attacked me a few weeks
ago when I was at a restaurant with my
brother and some friends. He...knew things he shouldn't. I...I
should ask you. What, if anything, have you heard about my so
called Well Wisher?"
He sits back and savours the near 60 year old wine. His anger is
fortified against a man he had few dealings with. But he had
harmed Heidi. He was now in danger.
"Only what little I've heard
from persons in the back. I have
heard tales of it. But nothing concrete. Let me say though,
that I will not allow anyone to endanger you whilst I am Champion, and
whilst I am Commissioner. I vow it."
He means every syllable, champagne and wine be damned.
"My Well Wisher...this started
years ago. Back in 2002, back
before I ever became a top of the card wrestler. One day, I just
got this letter...it said just what you've said to me, only in
different words. That I needed to give up on heart, and embrace
darkness."
She closes her eyes, remembering. They'd started this way.
Then they'd moved on to suggesting she dump Jeff.
Violently. The tone became more mocking. She'd gotten one,
while she was still the CAL World Champion, that called her...
"Bloody Heidi."
She says it out loud, and immediately claps her hand over her mouth,
with a small gasp of shock.
He listens and hears, and feels, the pain and fear in her voice.
It strikes a chord with him.
"My dear. Please.
Drink. And fear nothing."
He returns his hand to hers, which she takes. She is still
visibly disturbed when the waiter returned.
For him, deer, for her, wild fowl.
"Now tell me. Bloody
Heidi...explain."
She takes a sip.
"Bloody Heidi...it was
something he called me...right before
everything fell apart. He said that I would kill Jeff...and that
my path to glory was to burn and behead all that was in my way...then
I started losing. I lost the CAL World Title, I lost to CCK, I
lost to Lawrence Cheung...I lost Jeff. And then he and I fought."
As waiters scurried about and the rich and famous dine on their
exquisite meals, here the two chattered away about violence and
conflict. And they would not have it any other way.
He tries to allay her fears.
"That was then. This is
now. Do not let past shadows haunt
your dreams and rule your present."
"But...that's why I mentioned
Brad. Because just two weeks, he
called me that."
She pauses.
"You probably think this all
very silly. But I know that Brad
is not behind this. Brad, like I mentioned before, is not
smart. He hasn't the mind to concentrate on something for five
months, let alone five years. I still don't know who is behind
it."
Again, she stops. The vague cold she's felt ever since donning
the dress Avarice bought her has melted away. She can hear her
own heartbeat.
"But Brad screwed up. He
knows something. He has
information he can lead me through this. He won't, though,
because this is what he loves to do, stringing people along until he
bores. He's done it to my friends before. But you..."
She smiles. Fiercely, with a glint of teeth.
"I think you can help me."
He chuckles inwardly. He sees the game she wants to play.
And loves it.
Grasping his glass of wine, Robert leans forward and kisses her cheek
warmly.
"Surely you know by now that I
would and will do anything for you."
"You know people who
are...good at knowing things. And good at
learning things they don't already know. I want them to learn
what Brad knows already...and then to tell me."
She pulls away, slowly, and sits back in her chair.
"Do you ever get the feeling
that your career is winding down?
That you've only got a limited time left?"
He downs yet more wine, and pours more into his glass.
"I'm one of the oldest men in
OLW. I'm almost forty in a few
years."
His sadistic grin returns.
"But I am also the Undisputed
Heavyweight Champion. And I will
remain thus. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, I shall reign. Age
is nothing to me. I'll show all of this at End of the Line."
Silence for a moment.
"Believe me."
"Let us hope, then, that we
can avoid crossing each other's paths in
the War Games. And if you really want to do me a favor...hurt
Gemma. She's on my team, and so I'm not allowed to."
Her voice takes on a sing-song quality for those last few words.
"But more than War
Games. Title-wise, I've nothing left to
accomplish. I've held the regional top titles. I'm one of
very few CAL World Champions who successfully retained the title.
Winning War Games would be a beautiful, but ultimately unnecessary,
jewel to wear around my neck. There is only one thing I have left
to do..."
She knows that now, she will validate everything Avarice thinks of her.
"...is to pay back the people
who did wrong by me."
Back when Jeffy Andrews traded the CAL Presidency for the ownership of
the IWA, Heidi, hanging off his arm, having been complicit in his plan,
had a look on her face that Cito Conarri compared to a Velociraptor's
snarl. She's never looked like that again.
Until just now.
"I may be a good person in the
long run, Robert, but I know how to
hate, and I know how to HURT those I hate. And there is NO ONE I
hate more than the person who's done this to me."
Lowering her eyelids, she looks into Avarice's eyes. And slowly,
watching his reaction, she licks her lips.
"And to find out who it was,
so that I can hurt him, I will sleep with
the devil himself."
She's pushing all the right buttons. She has allured him mentally
and now is playing the sexual card. His quest to shatter the
Lord's Commandment comes closer with every passing moment.
Dinner cannot arrive soon enough.
She pours some more wine for herself and fills up his glass again.
Dinner arrives and it is everything and more that they had hoped.
The evening progresses.
In the limousine on the way over, he gently kisses her neck.
Their
hands mingle together lightly.
It is time to venture to the Ritz Hotel - the Windsor Suite, at over
seven thousand euros per night for two people. Louis XVI
furniture in a room overlooking the Parisian royal square.
Moonlight floods the room as low light fills the room and accentuates
the subtle colours on the wall.
He removes his jacket and loosens his shirt. His hands fumble at
yet another cork of Dom Perignon.
She has yet to slip out of her Armani dress but has crawled on all
fours over to where he sits on the bed. Raising one finger to her
lips, she then presses it to his own, slowly pushing him back against
the headboard.
"Just for a change, Robert."
She gently takes the Champaign
bottle out of his hands. "Let
me."
Having worked in a restaurant before she wrestled, Heidi is adept with
a corkscrew. The cork is out within half a minute.
"One second."
Setting the bottle down, she opens her handbag, taking out a container
of Altoids Licorace...and using the tin to hide the orange bottle,
three Rohypnol tablets. It has, assuredly, not escaped her notice that
Avarice is much bigger than the average victim of this drug.
Filling the two glasses with practiced grace, she hands one to Avarice,
allowing the pills to fall out of her palm and into the sparkling
liquid. Taking a slow, luxurious sip, allowing just the faintest
trickle of champagne to make its way down her mouth. Smiling, she
wipes it with her finger.
"Oops...silly me..."
She bats her eyelashes at him. Silly of her. But if he's
looking at her, he's not looking at his drink.
With everything behind them - Cole, the earlier threat, the trip to
Paris, the talk of End of the Line, the stalker, dinner - now was the
moment par excellence.
They tipped glasses together as he imbibed nearly all of it, and pulled
her close, and firmly locked his lips to hers, kissing her.
She forces herself to relax. Jeff, she knew, had gone farther
than this with one Jenna Lyons. This isn't as bad, and this isn't
pointless. Slowly, focusing entirely on her own thoughts,
drowning her natural reaction, whether it be desire or repulsion, in a
sea of cold blooded logic.
Grabbing him roughly by the back of his neck, she intensifies the
kiss...and abruptly pulls back.
He is mired in lust unbeknownst to him. It is unparalleled in his
existence. Every droplet from her mouth is like an aphrodisiac
more powerful and potent than any elixir, or any concoction. He
is in a world swarming with champagne, luxury, sensuality, wine, and
the beauty and raw sexuality that is before his increasingly blurred
eyes. The alcohol, and unknown to him, the drug, begin to take
their toll.
But he presses forward.
"More," he whispers,
almost begging like. "More."
She smiles. It's working like a charm.
"Don't rush. Silly
boy. Just..."
She allows the dress to slide off her shoulders, and wanders to her
purse once again. She presents a condom, which she places on the
bedside table. His eyes grow wide.
"Lie down. On your
front."
He obeys with as much speed - his eyes transfixed on her cleavage, a
hint of her black lace bra peeking through - as he can.
The Duke's mind races in the cloud which has befell him.
She slowly steps across him, sitting down on his lower back. Her
hands seek his shoulders, where she beings to knead the thick trapezium
muscles gently.
"You need to relax,
Robert. The saying that it is better to burn
out than to fade away could not be less true here. Burning out
leaves all parties unsatisfied."
She leans closer to him, whispering in his ear.
"Fade away...good things come
to those who wait, life's finest sweets
best enjoyed slowly. Fade away..." her voice lowers an
octave,
barely audible. "Fade
away...."
She continues to rub his shoulders. His heavy breathing slows and
evens.
Finally, she stands up, steps back.
He didn't move. He is out.
II:
Saturday, January 13, 2007
And out he remains. Several hours later, he stirs. Groggy
is not sufficient a description; hung-over is paled in comparison to
the feeling that pulsates through his body and mind.
But he awakes on the bed to find his shining star next to him, sitting
with her legs crossed on a Louis XVI era chair.
He rubs his eyelids slowly, gently. On the side table, the condom
wrapper is bare of its contents.
He casts his eyes at his prize again. She leans over and
continuing the facade, kisses his head.
"Rise and shine."
She smiles, looking at him...and past him, to the mirror. Her
hair is undone, her makeup having run and then been hastily cleaned up.
Her smile is almost too broad.
After Avarice had fallen asleep, she'd gone down to the gym, to the
stares of her fellow patrons and the few employees who worked
there. Still in her dress, and in her bare feet, she had worked
out, vigorously, until she was exhausted, covered in sweat, and her
hair a mess.
Better give Avarice a reason to think he might well be as tired as he
will be when he wakes up.
The stares of people who had never seen a young woman in a dress worth
hundreds of dollars running windsprints and doing squats would
themselves have made this outing worthwhile, she thinks.
"...so how are we feeling this
morning?" she asks, tilting her head to the side and smiling
innocently.
"In need of some scotch."
He sits himself up in bed, shirtless, and pantless. "I apologize for my appearance and
mindset love."
"Don't worry about it."
She steps into the bathroom so that he can dress himself. "Incidentally, are you planning to
take me home today? I've loved our time together, but Dawn and
Cole must be worried sick."
"They should know better by
now," he calls out, "that
billionaires look after their ladies. But certainly. Some
breakfast and I can get the Lear ready to go. I have some
dealings to take care of myself, as well as those things I must do on
your behalf. As soon as we're airborne I'll make some calls."
The Duke struggles to cloth himself but manages to do so all
right. They dine on fine French pastries and fresh juice for
breakfast before leaving to the airport.
Several hours later, their ordeal ends as it commenced: in front of
Heidi's front door.
"Here we are," he says,
now fully recovered after a long rest on the jet. "Welcome home."
"Thank you, Robert, for a
wonderful time." Her voice drips sincerity. "About what I asked of you..."
"While you were asleep, and
before I zonked out, I made some calls. I know the finest
investigators in the world. They will not fail you." He
looks at her gently. "I will not fail you."
She smiles and moves to exit his Jaguar, which he had parked at the
airport.
"Heidi."
He follows her out and she turns around, standing in her tracks.
"What we shared last night is
and always will be cherished. I truly hope this is the start of
something special - as professionals - in, and out of the ring."
He brushes the back of his hand over her cheek. "Be safe. We'll be in touch."
She squeezes his hand tightly.
"I will, I promise, never
forget what we have had."
And with that, she vanishes
inside the house. Breaking the mood, the loud voice of Cole
Christenson rises, shaking an icecicle loose from the eaves, where it
shatters on the sidewalk in front of Avarice's feet.
The Duke hears his bellowing inside. He can only shake his head
as he hops into the Jag, and pulls away.
They are both only left with memories from a hectic twenty-four hours.
And with anticipation and expectations of things to come.