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“Yes, sir!” Jerry sits down, leans in, and is all gleeful.
“Okay, Chey. Now, first do the move as Archimedes. Then repeat it as Disastra.”
“Oh, God, I haven’t. I mean, there’s been no…”
Ronan and his Howitzer-powered pecs move into my personal space. “Chey, fight or flight. Which is it going to be?”
I swallow the bullfrog lodged in my throat. I quickly nod.
Ronan steps out of the way.
I decide it’ll be my one-and-a-half flip off the ropes into a four-limb freeze.
“First one. Archimedes,” I call to Jerry. The janitor nods.
I flip, I land. I brace all four limb points on the mat.
Jerry claps like he’s cleaning chalkboard brushes. My left eyebrow lifts.
Not earth-shattering, obviously.
“Okay, same move, Jerry. But as Disastra, Lady of Doom.”
I rotate my shoulders and my head. I close my eyes to visualize my villain essence, fill my lungs, stamp my right foot, and let Disastra fly. By the end, the sound of my body hitting the mat echoes in the empty space.
I look over. Jerry rockets out of his seat. His hands are clapping so fast they’re a blur. And some kind of manly hoots came out that I didn’t know were possible for a throat to make.
I crane my neck to check Ronan. Finally, a smile.
From behind me, I hear raucous clapping and hooting. I turn around to see it’s Camie and Marie, an up-and-coming wrestler and her manager mom. Everyone in the industry knows them, but it’s the first time I’ve seen them watch me. It’s unnerving but exciting, too.
It takes me a minute to realize the noise is getting louder as other gym rats, some of whom are wrestlers I’ve seen on the circuit, join in. At one point, half the gym is clapping for my little show.
“Wow. Looks like you have a following.”
I shake my head, trying to hold back a reflexive grin so I don’t look stupid or overeager. “I think it’s a fluke,” I say modestly. I don’t bother to tell him that there are probably more people clapping for me here than at my last official wrestling match.
“Nah. They wouldn’t bother to stop and pay attention if they didn’t like what they saw. You saw Jerry’s reaction on your second go as Disastra. And that man doesn’t know you from Adam. Passion, Chey. It’s passion that rules this sport. Without it, there’s nothing to watch.”
I put my head on a swivel and see the bright eyes. I let the clapping and the cheers wash over me.
I blink frantically so Ronan won’t see the sheen of tears that I can feel filling my eyes. He’s right. I just performed the same move twice. If the move was bad, it should have been a strike both times. People like the moves, they just hate Archimedes.
And that hurts. I’m not ready to let go of Archimedes, even if everyone else is ready to see her go.
Ronan either doesn’t see my upset face or he just doesn’t acknowledge it. “Awareness today. Practice tomorrow. Today was hard. Tomorrow will be worse.”
We both laugh, but mine is a polite chuckle. Ronan didn’t get to where he is by being Mr. Nice Guy in the ring. I believe I’m in for a training awakening. My muscles have sympathy pains.
“Passion. That’s all there is?” I ask, daring to look into the orc’s eyes.
“Passion. If you have that, you have the world.”
CHAPTER 8
Ronan
“You’re making a mistake, Mike. Cheyanne’s new character will be the best yet. Your loss to your amateur event line-up, not mine.”
