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The silence is deafening. I cut it. “So, what do I owe this pleasure?” I lie.
Fritz sits forward with the eagerness of a used car salesman. “We wanted to tell you in person, so you wouldn’t hear it through the industry grapevine.”
“Okay. That’s, uh, nice of you, I guess. What’s up?” I take another swig to better enunciate with my arid dry tongue.
Lena sits forward, too, and presses her hoofs together.
Cripes, here it comes. The big bad news.
“Chey, we want you to know we’ve put a lot of thought into this. Fritz and I wouldn’t push for this change unless we thought it was the best for everyone. We’ve decided to end your Archimedes character after one more sketch. We’ve learned about your time as Disastra, but since that’s been going so well for you, we’ve decided to support it rather than enforce any kind of retribution. We plan to replace your brand with Disastra, full time.”
“Yes. You’ve made such a success out of Archimedes, and we are so very proud to be the company who represented that brand. But time’s change, and we think the change would be good for you, personally, and for ticket sales. You know, to whip up new fan interest. That sort of thing.” Fritz flashes a toothy smile.
I had been sitting erect, but this news has me leaning against the backrest. The news hits me like a freight train, and I can’t tell if I’m still breathing from the collision.
I smile but keep quiet, trying to figure out how wires got so crossed.
“I’m not so sure you understand. I was adding more aggressive moves, yes, but it wasn’t because I was trying to prove Disastra could be a hit. I didn’t want to swap out for Disastra permanently. I was just using the role so I could test out some new moves and get some practice undercover. I didn’t mean to deceive anyone, not really.”
“No, dear, no,” Lena assures me. “We realize our wrestlers are under a bevy of rules and regs. Sometimes they’re for the sake of the wrestler, but the bottom line is, rules can be broken.”
“Absolutely. Raucous can take a gamble now and then. Why not? We’ve heard nothing but great things about Disastra’s reception all over town. Of course, we’d want to hone your brand and make it our own. Whether you knew what you were stumbling into is hardly the point in the end.”
I watch as Fritz’s lips move, listing many tweaks they’ve discussed to make for my alter ego character. But I don’t hear the words. I’m too pissed to listen.
I don’t want to give up Archimedes. I wanted Disastra to fix Archimedes, since Raucous wouldn’t help me. Now, I finally got a character I have complete creative control over, and my ideas are paying off. And they want to steal Disastra from me and leave their sticky fingerprints all over my work, plain and simple.
My hearing returns.
“Fritz is right, Cheyanne. Archimedes had a great run, didn’t she? First, with your mother and then solo. You’ve done the character proud. But like all good things, they end, don’t they? Archimedes’ dwindling fan base and the meager ticket sales. We’re having a hard time promoting her anymore. Chey, you know how this industry ebbs and flows. It’s a hard reality. But your mother has passed on, and if all of us are being honest, so should the character you developed with her.”
Lena reaches out to hold my hand. I don’t move a muscle.
How dare she? How dare they? Put Archimedes down. Treat the character and my mom like they’re yesterday’s news. And on top, they want to take Disastra like they own all my ideas.
I force a smile.
If they think they can take Disastra from me, they are certifiable.
“Well, yes, Chey, we know it’s a lot to take in. You sit with this proposal for a while and let us know your thoughts. Lena and I are nothing but accommodating to our wrestlers, of course.” Fritz looks at his watch. Obviously, it’s a hint for me to skedaddle. Gladly.
I jump out of my seat and head for the door. I turn to face Mac, who is staying put. His eyes are fixed on his feet. He doesn’t have the guts to look me in the face. Never thought I’d see that from a demon, but today is a day of unpleasant surprises, isn’t it?
Fritz and Lena offer their hands and I brush right by them. My head remains high, my eyes glued to the exit.
I reach my car, get in, and sit there like a mannequin, shocked, hurt, and so outraged.
“Raucous has been in the toilet ever since my parents left. There’s no two ways about it. This isn’t the last they’ll be hearing from me, that’s for sure. Though I doubt they’ll like what I have to say.”
I slam the door and start the car. Just as I’m about to pull out of the lot, my cell rings.
I throw the gear back into park and pick up the call, seeing it’s Liam. “Hi. What’s up?” I can’t say much more. I run out of words when I’m spitting mad.
“Hey, Chey. Listen, I hate to tell you like this. Actually, I hate to be the one to tell you at all.”
“What? I’m kind of busy right now. Stop the preamble. What’s on your mind?”
“You know how gossip flies in this town. Well, I heard about a tiff, a ring brawl, if you must know.”
