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“Promoters would be nuts not to sign Lawless to their roster, you know that.”
“Well, not if he’s trying to change the character. You think he wants a hero version of Lawless? Lawless sells because of who he is. He’s not going to want to gamble with that.”
“It’ll be a big gamble transforming the brand. Becoming a hero when his entire career has been based on the villain motif. But if anyone can do it, Ronan can.” Sure, a part of me believes it. Ronan can do anything he sets his mind to.
Another part of me thinks I’m just trying to ease my own anxiety. If Ronan, of all people, can’t rebuild his persona, that would mean I can’t change Archimedes, and I’m not interested in unpacking all the ways that thought makes my chest ache.
“Listen, I have to run. We can talk later, right?” I ask.
“Sure.”
Liam hangs up, and I look at my cell. That didn’t go so well. I shrug my shoulders and grab the last of my gear. No time to dissect that chit-chat. Time is money. I run out the locker room door. The show, whatever it is, must go on.
* * *
The last smack-down. The bell rings. The ref hauls up our arms.
“The tag-team winner for tonight. Disastra and the Hillbilly Cyborg!”
The arena erupts in applause and cheers, fans stamping the bleachers. The place is thundering with sound.
I flash Camie a smile. She flashes one back. We’re both beat and out of breath, but damn if it didn’t go perfectly!
We take our bows, and the arena guards quickly usher us to the locker room. Fans swarm us, reaching with pens and programs for our autographs. In the melee, we barely get backstage, laughing all the way.
We burst through the door. “Holy hell, that was awesome!” Camie shouts, jogging place, still hyped up from the show.
I collapse onto the bench, plain worn out, but my eyes are wide and my breathing deep. I’m beyond thrilled.
Camie runs over and takes a seat on the bench, too, undoing her laces. “But that wasn’t a given. We sucked the big one at the start.”
I remove my cape and fling it on a side table. “You’re not kidding. You and I missed our opening cues. We were supposed to do that double rope jump together. Oh, my God, what a choreographed mess!”
Camie bends over, howling. “Right! And then, I was supposed to swap you with the four-point hold, and our arms got tangled up. I’m surprised we didn’t get booed on that one.”
“Thank goodness for the wide load that was our ref. I think he covered our screw-ups tonight.” I move to the lighted vanity table and start shedding my villain makeup mask with gobs of cold cream.
Camie joins me at the next table and removes her cyborg appliance. She shakes her hair. I know she must be hot as blazes under that thing.
“Well, we got a few boos after that fourth bell, remember? When Dorothy the Demon and her sidekick Freaky Franchesca did a number on our hair. Those were supposed to be fake pulls. It hurt like hell!” Camie examines the top of her head in the mirror to see if she still has hair.
I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, I mean, you and I were supposed to double-arm them off before they grabbed us. You missed, and my arm beaned off Dorothy’s chest armor. Cripes. We were the Keystone Kops out there.”
I slither out of my body suit and throw on a robe. “From that point, I was sure we were goners. But then, you and I gelled, or we got our mojo, or some wrestling god looked down on us.”
Camie turns with bright eyes. “Yeah! It was so weird. It’s like we finally tuned into one another. We matched perfectly. I rolled when you leaped. We both parted like the Red Sea when Dot and Fran flew at us. Boy, did you hear the audience laughing then? They were totally on our side at that point.”
“Audience laughter. Screw that. I was laughing. We aced that move!”
“Yep, from then on, we hit every mark. The audience loved it.” Camie brushes what’s left of her hair.
“Oh, my God, did you see Dot look at me? She was pissed. The script read a win for us, sure, but I don’t think she was ready to be laughed at.”
Camie giggles. “Cripes, yeah. I fear the next time we’re in the ring with those two. Payback is a bitch. She better pull your hair out next time. I have none left.”
We laugh.
“Well, well, what do we have here? Tonight’s take-down winners. That’s what we have!”
