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It lands straight into Dee Dee Dauterive’s lap! Of all the beings, in all the world. The swampster squeals so forcefully, she drools green algae goo. Chey and I burst out laughing. There will be a happy ending for our green groupie girl!
I think we’re both pleased to hope so, anyway.
Later at the reception, Mac appears in the receiving line to greet us and wish us well.
“Congratulations, you two. And even from a less than friendly demon, I wish you all the best. Well, as much as a demon can.” Mac chuckles. He kisses Chey gently on the cheek and roundly shakes my hand. His skeleton claw is warm to the touch. I’m beyond shocked.
“Oh, Mac, I am so sorry for keeping you in the dark about Disastra. I hope you forgive me.” Chey’s eyes are full of regret.
Mac’s beady eyes glisten. “I had been tempted to curse you for all time, as is my inclination. But after realizing what you did and why, forgiveness is yours. How could a demon take the loveable Chey as his foe? Impossible.”
Chey strikes a toothy smile and kisses Mac on his cheek.
“Now, now, not too much of the lovey-dovey stuff. I have a reputation to uphold.”
We both nod and wink.
“Will you come join us at Fools Gold? We could use your expertise there,” I ask, hoping the gesture is accepted as a peace offering to the powerful beast.
Mac bows his head and grins. “That’s very generous of you, Ronan. But my training days are done. I’ve made quite the career out of honing players, but I’m hanging up my hat for good. Wrestling on the dark side is a young demon’s game. From now on, I’ll be content to criticize those worthless newbies from my bleacher seat.”
Chey and I get through the line, our voices hoarse from the thanks. The rest of the evening floats by in waves of champagne, speeches, and love. So much love. The guests soon throw confetti on our heads, as we head outside to our waiting limousine.
It’s a honeymoon in the Poconos for us next, where there is the heady scent of pine, fresh air, and privacy in a cabin made for two. No cheering crowds, no promoters, no training. Just Chey and me in wedded wrestling bliss.
* * *
The first months of our marriage speed by. We’re cherishing them, but in the meantime, Chey and Camie have been wrestling up a storm. Their characters are household names in Briarwood and beyond. They’ve yet to sign with Fool’s Gold but soon will. Joseph won’t rest until they do.
The Fool’s Gold arena is still a sell-out every show with his newly minted women’s division fighters. They outperform Raucous’ men’s division by half. Briarwood is on the map as an innovative wrestling town. Joseph can’t count the money fast enough. And Raucous is kicking and screaming its way into the modern century.
In the first week after our honeymoon, Chey makes back her $15,000 fine as a free-agent wrestler. And Joseph pockets back the $35,000 for buying out Chey’s brand.
And I’m loving being on the other side of the ropes. Wrestling played its role in my life, but training is both lucrative and more enjoyable for me these days. My expertise is so in demand. The irony of a wrestler’s life.
In the weeks that follow, I never take for granted our success. I often find myself standing back in the Fool’s Gold gym amazed at the youthful faces, training the right way for once. They’re learning, from day one, to be and own their fighting personas rather than read the scripts they're given and follow the demands of an executive somewhere. Their undying loyalty is my pride.
“Winning big, Mrs. O’Malley,” I look to the sky, whispering to Chey’s mother, hoping she can hear me from above. “Winning big, with love.”
The End
