It has been over a year since Mark and I met. It is now May, the trees and bushes are alive with color, and the birds are full of songs and chirps. The shop has gotten so popular since I first started working, and we've signed on a new artist, Ralph. He's been with us for a week now, and already has a few clients of his own. Rita had a baby girl late February, and named her Kiara. The little one is so adorable, and looks so fragile, everyone's afraid to touch her delicate skin.
Today has been a quiet day. There're only five appointments for today, and the fourth one is in the back with Mark right now; Ralph has the day off. I look over the schedule, making sure that I haven't missed anything. The fourth appointment, a kinda short man with arms covered in ink, comes to the counter, and says, "How much do I pay?" He pulls out his wallet.
I look over the tattoo prices, and spot the medium-sized one he got. "That'll be forty-nine, ninety-five, sir," I reply, smiling kindly.
He hands me a fifty-dollar bill, and says, "Keep the change." He leaves the shop.
I put the fifty in the cash drawer, and shake my head in amusement. I lean over the counter, writing a few words in the schedule keeper, my hair falling over my right shoulder. A pair of strong arms circle around my waist, and soft lips caresses the bare side of my neck. "I can't wait to go home," he whispers against my skin, his arms gently crushing me against his body. His hand brushes my left shoulder, where I had gotten another tattoo just a few months ago; I went ahead and got the skull with the dripping dagger.
I smile to myself. "Did you miss me that much?" I tease.
"You know I did," Mark responds.
I turn around, his arms still encompassing me, and kiss his lips. When I finally gain enough willpower to pull out of his embrace, I tell him, "Your last appointment is gonna walk in here soon, so you don't the time to play." He groans, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Just then, the bell on the door rings, and I turn to see a young man, about 20 or so, walk in. "Hello, welcome to Mark's Tattoo Studio!" I say to the man, who seems to be a little nervous. "Mark is ready to take you to the back." I add, pushing Mark toward the back area.
Mark looks over his shoulder at me. "Thanks, Jess," he says in a regretful voice, and leads the man toward the rooms.
"Anytime!" I reply, laughing and shaking my head. I sit down on the padded barstool behind the counter area.
Five minutes later, the bell on the door rings again, and I look up. Entering through the door are five men. The first to enter are two tall men with long blonde hair, the second one a few inches taller and older-looking. The next one has long brown hair, followed by a younger man with long multi-colored hair. The last one is much taller than the previous four, possibly even taller than Mark. The giant has long light-brown hair, and very muscular. In fact, they're all pretty well built.
I swallow, and put on a smile. "Hello, welcome to Mark's Tattoo Studio," I call out. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
The second blonde man whose teeth are pure white replies, "Yeah, you sure could help me with a lot of things."
The giant man slaps him upside the head. "Stop flirting, will ya?!" he scolds as he slaps him. The blonde hides his head with his arms, laughing while cowering. "We're looking for Mark," the tall man tells me, his voice deep, much like Mark's.
"Oh," I reply, still stunned at these men, "Mark's in the back right now, with a customer. It might be another hour or so. If you want, you can wait right here." I motion them to the sofas and chairs in the waiting area. They sit down on the comfortable chairs.
After an hour, precisely, the young man comes to the front, no longer nervous or scared, but I can see he's in pain. "Which one did you get, sir?" I ask politely.
"I got a smoking skull," he replies, then winces with pain.
I nod, and look the price up. "Thirty dollars, and I'll give you some medicine for the pain," I tell him, then turn around to grab a small bottle filled with pain meds. As I turn back around, the man hands me thirty dollars in the form of a twenty and a ten. "Thank you, and please come back soon," I say to him, handing him the pain pills. He smiles, nods, and leaves the shop whistling.
Suddenly, a strong hand turns me around, and I'm face to chest with Mark. "Hey you," he says, and bends down to kiss me.
"Mark," I reply, trying to push him away, playing hard-to-get, "the shop isn't the place for such antics!" He just laughs, and nuzzles my neck, his lips practically glued to my skin.
All five men in the waiting area clear their throats. We stop, and turn to the men. I had forgotten about them. They're all standing up, and all are smugly smiling. "Sorry to interrupt you, but-" the tallest man begins to explain.
"Oh my God!" Mark interrupts him. "What the Hell are you guys doing here?!" He leaves my side, and goes into the waiting area. I watch as he embraces these strange men. They all laugh and smile, joking with one another.
I feel left out. "Mark, would you care to introduce me to your friends here?" I ask him as I walk over to the group.
Mark places his arm around my waist. "All right," he replies, and points to the taller, blonde man. "Adam." He points to the slightly shorter, blonde one. "Christian." He then points to the young, brown-haired one. "Matt." Next is the younger, multi-colored haired one. "Matt's younger brother, Jeff." Lastly, Mark points to the tall giant. "And that is Glenn." Mark then says, "Guys, this is Jess."
"And by the looks of how you two were just about to go at it right then and there," Glenn responds, "I take it that you two know each other pretty well. If not, then Mark has a weird-ass way of giving payment." We all laugh, Mark and I turning a slightly reddish color.
"How do you all know each other?" I ask.
Matt replies, "We used to work together in the WWF. That is, before he decided to hang his boots up for good."
"Mark!" I say, punching him softly in the stomach. "Isn't the WWF like THE biggest wrestling organization in the country?" Mark nods, rubbing where I had punched him. "How come you never told me you worked there?"
"Would it have mattered?" he counters. I shake my head, smiling. "Well, you know now, and these crazies," he motions toward his friends, "were my partners-in-crime." He turns toward them now. "You still haven't answered me. What are you guys doing here?"
"Haven't you been keeping up?" Christian answers. "We're doing a show tonight, and Vince sent us to find you. He wants you to come and hang out."
Mark strokes his goatee, as if thinking over the pros and cons of going. "We don't have anything planned tonight, Mark," I inform him. "I'd like to see what it's like."
"All right, I guess a guest appearance wouldn't be that bad," Mark responds. "It'll be nice to see everybody again, anyway."
"Where are you all staying?" I ask them.
Adam replies, "Oh, we're just staying at the Marriott down the street."
I shake my head. "Not anymore," I tell the men, and look up at Mark. "We've got plenty of room. They could stay in the extra rooms while they're here."
Mark nods in agreement. "You all get your stuff, and come back here," he instructs them like a general commanding his army. "As long as you're in this city, you will live under our roof." The other five nod their heads, knowing better than to argue, and say good-bye to us as they head back to the hotel. Once they are out the door, Mark turns me to face him, and says, "That was nice of you to offer the guest rooms to them."
"Well, they're nice guys, and friends of your's, plus there are more than enough rooms to fill, so I thought I'd offer it to them," I reply. "Maybe some of the others might want to occupy the last of the rooms."
Mark leans down, and entraps my lips in his. No matter how many times we've kissed like this, he still takes my breath away like it's the first time. When our lips come apart, he says, "Let's start closing up." I nod, and we set about to clean and close the shop for the night.
Half an hour later, two limos arrive in front of the shop. The five men from earlier step out of the limos, and are accompanied by five other men. Other wrestlers, I guess. Mark drives, leading the limos to our house. "Who are those other five guys?" I ask Mark while we wait for the light to change.
"The taller blonde one is Andrew, the short one with long brown hair is Dennis, the tall one with shoulder-length dark brown hair is John, the African-American is Ron, and the shortest one with brown hair is Shane, Vince's son," he tells me in basically one breath. The light changes, and we continue on the way home.
We pull into the garage, and I open the front door for Mark's friends. I hear many comments from the men about the house.
"This house is huge!" is one from Jeff.
"I wonder how old this place is," comes from Christian.
Mark tells them, "This house belonged to Jess before she let me move in. Bring your stuff upstairs, and I'll show you the rooms."
On the way up, I hear Adam ask, "Are you sure she's as young as she tells you? 'Cuz this place looks like she's lived here for a few forevers!" Everyone laughs at that comment. I laugh, too; I have to admit, the house does look well lived in.
I hear a scratching sound at the backyard door, and I turn to see Harley with her paw stopped in mid-air. I unlock her dog-door, and Harley comes in, then jumps on me, knocking me down onto my butt. "Hey!" I exclaim, trying unsuccessfully to push the huge Rottweiler off of my body. "I'm glad to see you, too, Harley, but if you want to eat, you have to get off of me." Harley just continuously licks my face with her long, wet, pink tongue, forcing me to lie down on the cool linoleum floor.
Mark appears above me, and puts his fingers under the dog's chain collar, pulling the huge animal away to let me stand back up. "You know, if you wanted to be on your back, you could've asked me first," he tells me, patting the dog's head.
I punch him hard in the arm. "You!" I say, and place Harley's food and water on the kitchen floor. "Isn't there anything else you think about?"
"There is one person I think of all the time," he replies as he turns me to face him. Our lips come together like a well-known routine. Our tongues instinctively thrust at each other.
Suddenly, a loud chorus of "OOoo!" comes from the kitchen doorway. Our mouths finally part, and look up to see the ten guests crowding around the entrance. "Since when did this turn into a show?" I ask them, sounding as angry as I could without bursting out laughing.
"Since we came down for some food, and see a little kissy show being put on!" John answers back, and all the men pile into the kitchen.
Harley begins to bark crazily as she sees all these new men entering the room. "All right, who let the inmate out of the asylum?" Matt asks loudly, watching Harley run like a crazed animal around the kitchen.
I finally manage to settle the overjoyed pup down enough to grab her collar. "This inmate happens to my overly-excited dog, Harley," I inform the wrestlers. "Step outta line, and I send both this pup and Mark after you!" We all burst into laughter, and I bring out some chips, dip, fresh-cut vegetables, and other assorted snacks for the guys.
During the hour, I listen to their reencounters of when Mark was still in the business. I laugh with them, and understand their solid friendships. It's interesting to hear all their stories and jokes, considering this is the side of Mark he hasn't bothered to tell me. I glance up at the wall clock; it's going on seven. "What time do you all have to be at the arena?" I ask aloud.
They all look at the clock, and start swearing like drunks. "We were supposed to be there half an hour ago!" shouts Jeff as they all race outta the kitchen and up the stairs.
I watch them go up the stairs, and look back at the kitchen. They had dropped just about everything in their hands. "I wouldn't have asked them if I'd known they'd leave this kinda mess," I say to Mark.
He smiles, and kneels to pick up a few dishes. "Let's start cleaning up what we can," he replies. I stoop down to help him. By the time the others come back down, the kitchen is clean and somewhat neat again. We all pile into our vehicles, and head out toward the arena.
Even I'm surprised at the amount of people that are dressed in wrestling T-shirts and holding their many signs. "There is more people here than at the biggest concerts of the summer!" I exclaim.
Mark just laughs. "You should know that by now!" he says. "The WWF is pretty damn popular." I nod in agreement. Mark parks the truck in a section blocked off for the wrestlers.
"I see you still have your status," I say to him after I step out of the truck and close the door. I look around the lot, at all the expensive cars, in wonderment. "I can't believe how many people work here!"
"I can, and there's a whole lot more," is Mark's answer. I look at him, confused. He seems more tired now than I can ever remember. His eyes grasp mine, and he says, "C'mon, let's go inside. People might spot us." He smiles as he says the last sentence. I smile back, and he takes my hand as we walk toward the back doors.
Glenn is waiting for us just inside. "I was wondering if you made it through the crowds!" he tells us. "What took you so long?"
"The crowds!" Mark replies, and they crack up. I just sort of giggle as I observe the backstage area that is still being set up. Many of the wrestlers are just hanging around, drinking water, chatting with each other, and just looking bored. I don't think anyone noticed us come in.
Glenn justifies my conclusion when he turns around, and shouts, "Hey all, look who's here!" Suddenly, about twenty-five people group around Mark. Somehow, I'm pushed to the outside of the group. As I turn around, I laugh at how they seem to swarm around Mark like a hive of bees, and even more come once word gets around. He must've been well respected by all of these people when he was still in wrestling. I see Mark look up at my laughing, and raise his eyebrow a little. That gets me to laugh a little harder.
Finally, the crowd diminishes, and I'm standing next to Mark once again. "Is there gonna be another mad rush of muscled wrestlers?" I ask teasingly. Mark gently punches my shoulder. "Ow!" I cry out as I laugh. Although he tries to be gentle, it still hurts a tinge.
"Hey!" a female voice calls out. "Don't you know how to treat a woman?" We turn to see a young woman, about twenty-four or so, walking our way. She bears a strong resemblance to Shane. When she is in front of us, she gives Mark this glare that's so full of hatred. "You are the biggest asshole I've ever seen!" she remarks.
"Yeah? You're the sluttiest bitch I've ever met!" Mark counters, an equally hateful look directed toward her.
Her mouth opens in disbelief. "You chauvinist pig!" she retaliates.
"You spoiled brat!" Mark replies. Finally, their hateful faces break into smiles as they embrace.
I had been enjoying their little fight, and when they finally hug, it makes me just a bit jealous. "Ahem!" I clear my throat loudly. They come apart. "Are you just gonna skip introductions?" I ask Mark.
Mark places his arm around my shoulders. "Jess, this is Stephanie, Shane's sister," he says. He then points at me. "Steph, this is Jess."
She holds out her hand to me. "Nice to meet you," she pleasantly greets me. I accept her hand, and we shake. "Don't worry about that whole name thing. It's just something we always do." She laughs heartily. "Besides, I don't think I could stand him being more than a friend to me."
From behind Steph, Shane calls out, "Hey, Mark! Dad wants you in his office now!"
"I'm comin'!" Mark calls back, and takes my hand again. "An order's an order. See ya later, Steph."
"It was nice meeting you," I say to Steph as Mark and I begin to follow Shane.
"You, too!" Steph calls back.
Shane leads us to a hallway where blue doors are about ten feet away from each other on both sides. He stops before a door, which has a sign that reads 'Vince McMahon' on it. Shane reaches for the knob, turns it, and steps inside the makeshift office. Mark and I follow him yet again, and I close the door behind myself.
"Mark!" shouts a semi-gray-haired man sitting on a sofa, a man whose children resemble him greatly. Vince stands up, and embraces Mark like a long-lost friend. "Damn, it seems like quite a long time since you left us!"
"Only about a year and a half, Vince," Marks reminds him, laughing slightly. I clear my throat yet again, and gain the attention of all three men. Mark breaks into a smile. "Oh yeah." He takes my hand, and pulls me a little closer to the group. "Vince, this is Jess, and Jess, that is Vince McMahon."
Vince shakes my hand. "Glad to meet you, Jess," Vince tells me, "after a few minutes of standing there."
"It's all right," I reply, smiling. "He's done this to me two times now."
"Mark!" Vince scolds. "How could you forget about this lovely young woman?"
We're all laughing quietly. "I can't. She's stuck to me like superglue." Mark replies. I punch him, and we laugh harder.
The door reopens, and Steph comes in with an older woman with white-blondish hair. "What's so funny in here?" the woman asks, looking from Shane, to Vince, and finally, to Mark. "Mark, what are you doing here?" she asks him with surprise as she hugs him as well. I can detect a Virginian accent.
"I was 'ordered' to attend," is Mark's reply. He pushes me toward her. "Linda, I'd like you to meet Jess."
I hold out my hand to her first, and she shakes it. "Pleased to meet you," she says, with a somewhat knowing smirk on her lips. "I'm Vince's wife and the CEO of the company." She looks up at Mark, still wearing her smirk. "Where did you meet her, Mark?" The question was followed by "Yeah, where?", "How?", and "Tell us about it".
Mark and I sit down on the loveseat sofa, while the McMahon clan settles themselves on other furniture; Steph and Shane on soft chairs across from us, Vince and Linda on another sofa. "Actually, we met in my tattoo shop," Mark starts. "I gave a group of drunk women tattoos, and I followed this one home."
The McMahon's begin to laugh, and notice we weren't laughing with them. "You're not serious, are you?" Shane asks when they stop abruptly.
"I'm dead serious!" Mark says, and realizing something, kinda smirks. "Well, it's not like it sounds, but that's basically what happened."
"He needed a place to stay, and I let him move into one of my guest rooms," I explain, easing the family's confusion. "It was only my dog and me in that huge house anyway."
"Ah-ha! I get it now." Vince says. Looking at his watch, he then tells us, "The show's gonna start soon." He points at us as we all stand up. "I want you two to stay." He and Linda kiss, and Linda leaves. After the door is closed, we sit back down. Vince leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and clasping his hands together, pointing his index fingers at Mark. "Is it all right if we do some mind games?" Vince asks him. "Who knows? You may want your old job back."
"I'll do it for tonight, like a one-night-only thing," Mark tells Vince, "but I can't promise that I will want to come back."
Vince nods in acceptance. "You can always come back, Mark. The door will be open." he tells him. Mark nods, as if saying "I know". "Well, let me get this into play." Vince says next. He stands up. "Okay, we need to rearrange just a tad here." Vince says, and begins to direct us. "Let's see…Jess, sit next to Steph on the sofa. Mark, let me figure something out for you. Shane, sit on the arm of the other chair." We move to our spots, with Vince sitting beside Shane, on the cushioned part.
