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Real erudite response there, Chey. Good thing they’re not hiring you as their publicist.
Ronan finds his voice. “But what about Camie’s alter ego, The Hillbilly Cyborg? Won’t that conflict with Disastra? Two anti-heroes on one ticket?”
“No, in fact, Camie and I talked about it, and we think a due concept would be great for our line-up. Get new bookers. Write up some shit-talking between you two. It could be a game changer.”
Camie leans forward and grabs a toothpick to get the grass out of her teeth. Total manners from that girl. “That’s not all. Mom, tell them what else.”
Marie laughs. “Yes, so we did a bit of sleuthing. A few cities over from Briarwood, those venues are making a killing from the killer two-wrestler act. It’s the latest thing with the valley’s venues, the double attack.
I nod and so does Ronan. I look over at him, and the poor guy is bursting at the seams from excitement. Without thought or discussion, we both chorus a response. “Yes, we’re in!”
All four of us howl. It’s a four-way marriage made in Briarwood heaven.
I lean back in my chair as Marie goes off to order a bottle of champagne to seal the deal.
“Totally speechless.” That’s all I can say to Camie.
She grabs my hand. “This will be fantastic, girlfriend. The dastardly duo storm Briarwood and beyond!”
Camie and I hug, and Ronan happily crunches down on the last of the beetles.
I sit back, awash in pure joy… then a feeling overwhelms me. Mom. The last time I worked as a duo, it was with her. Mom and I were so in touch with each other's thoughts, it was a seamless performance. Can I do the same with another? Will I ever remove the feeling of betrayal that already stains my lips at taking up the Disastra mantle in place of the wrestling hero my mom was so proud of?
Tears well, but I order them to slink back from where they came. Today is not about sorrow. It’s about joy. My mom, if she were here, would feel the same. That’s what Liam keeps telling me, after all.
I look over at Ronan. He grabs my hand, and I’m touched by the way it warms me. He understands exactly what I’m thinking in a way no one else does, and it’s like he’s reading my mind. He knows this isn’t easy for me.
To close a door merely because a window opens doesn’t mean all one’s emotional shadows are gone. The dark in a broken heart has a way of lingering in unseen corners.
Ronan nods his head at me as if to say, Can you handle this? A new life without your mother? I feel a sense of closeness to him blooming in my chest that assures me I can, at least as long as he’s there to help me through it.
I nod back, wicking away my stubborn tears.
Pop! I’m startled out of my reverie by the cork from a magnum bottle of Brut champagne. Marie pours and we toast.
“To a new and brighter future,” Marie heralds.
We all chime back the toast and take a good sip.
“Ah,” we all say. The champagne, c’est magnifique! All except for Ronan. He sneezes.
“It’s the bubbles,” Ronan, the manly orc, offers.
We women laugh and laugh.
Ronan holds open the front door for me. “So?”
I smile. “I’m ready. I’m so excited to get me back. I don’t know where the real me has been living all these last few years. But I’ve found her and I’m ready to be her again.”
Ronan hugs me, and I squeak. That bruiser puppy doesn’t know his own strength.
“Oops, sorry, Chey. To the future and you and Disastra, on top of the roaster mountain yet again!”
I watch as Ronan does some weird ass orc dance of joy in the parking lot. Man, orcs can dominate the forest. But dear God, keep them off the dance floor. He looks like a wounded monkey.
Still, it’s kind of sweet to see him so excited, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. He’s on my side, really, and after being traded around like a commodity in the wrestling community, his enthusiasm is touching.
“Meh, what the hell. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!” I dance like a wounded monkey, too.
