I am driving to the Bradley Center in Milwaukee early Monday morning. It was my first visit to this arena without being a fan in the audience, so I am excited. My cell-phone rings, and I pick it up. "Hello?" I say, keeping my eyes on Highway 41.
"It is Vince. Are you on your way?" asks the voice on the other end.
"Of course I am," I tell him. I glance at the next sign. Almost fifty more miles to go. "I am about an hour or so away from the arena."
"Good. When you get here, come to my office. I will tell you what to do. Good-bye." He hangs up.
I hang up my cell-phone. I turn up my radio, and continue driving.
****MEANWHILE, AT THE ARENA****
A knock comes to the door. Mark goes to open it. There stands one of the office staff. "Mark, your story-line's changed again. Vince has another idea."
"Again?" Mark grunts out. "What is it this time?"
The man walks into the locker room. "That valet/manager idea is being used. Vince already has a girl on the way."
Mark rolls his eyes, and says, "I thought I told him no love interests for the Undertaker!"
"Oh well. Got to do what he says. If you don't like it, take it out on him." the man tells him, then leaves the room. Mark sits back down, and leans his head against the wall. He sits for many minutes, trying to figure out what to do about this new twist.
****BACK TO THE CHICK****
I arrive at the arena an hour later. The lot is busy with lots of fans trying to get autographs from the superstars coming in. After I park my Blazer, I go to the back entrance without any problems; the masses don't know about my role in the WWF, but neither do I, yet.
I get directions to Vince's office, and arrive just when he is leaving the room. He recognizes me, and takes me to a locker room. "Put the clothes on in that room, and then I'll tell you about your role." I nod, and enter the room. What was supposed to be clothing was nothing more than a skimpy top and extremely short shorts.
I stomp out of the room, and found Vince waiting. "You've got to be kidding!" I tell him. "I never agreed to wear something made with a few threads."
"It gets you over quicker with the fans when you wear something revealing," he explains.
I shake my head. "No way am I wearing that crap. I am wearing what I brought, okay?"
He sighs, and agrees. I go back to the room, put on some jeans and a dark-blue baby tee, put my hair up in a ponytail, and go back out to Vince. He then tells me of my role, being a valet/manager to one of the wrestlers(of course, who else would she valet/manage, right?). We reach another door. "Is this where he is?" I ask Vince. He just opens the door, shoves me in, and closes it again.
I turn to the room. Standing on the opposite side, there is a tall man with long, dark, wild-like mane of hair, an untamed goatee, and tattoos swirling all over his built arms. His green eyes look at me, then he turns away. "How many times must I protest about this love interest thing?" he asks himself.
"I am guessing you are the one I'm supposed to work with, right?" I ask, pointing to him.
He looks back at me. "Yeah, I suppose," he says, coming closer to where I stand. He holds his hand out to me. "Mark."
I grasp his hand. "Mandy," I tell him. His grip is strong, and it's hard to keep from wincing. He leaves the room, in search of Vince, I guess. I lean against the wall, and let out my breath. How could I have said something that stupid? I ask myself. I leave the room, trying to follow him.
After a few minutes of searching, I find him trying to talk Vince out of this new twist of events in his story line. I listen to their conversation.
"I told you already. It is time for some changes." Vince tries to make Mark understand.
"Why not something else then?" Mark argues his point. "The Undertaker has never needed a woman before, so why now?"
Vince just says, "Trust me on this, okay, Mark?" He then walks off toward the front. I walk up next to Mark.
"I'm sorry about this. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or anything." I explain.
"Don't apologize. It is what is to be. The scripts are written already." he says calmly, and walks away again.
I don't see him again until it is time for his match. I am to be his new valet/manager/love interest, whatever I'm portraying. I am so nervous, I'm practically shivering. "You're going to have to relax to do a good job," comes a rich, deep voice from behind me. I turn to see Mark in his Undertaker outfit.(you choose which one you want him to be wearing)
"Thanks for the advice," I say. "I'll need all I can get."
We stand silent for a few minutes before he speaks again. "At least you're dressed decent. Not like the other women here."
I sort of nod. "Yeah, but I was dead set against what they wanted me to wear. Barely a whole yard of clothing."
Suddenly, the eerie music of the Undertaker hits, and we are on our way to the stage area. Before we come out of the curtain, Mark again says, "Relax, and you'll do a good job,"
An adrenaline rush comes to me as I walk out to the ring area with him. The crowd shouting and cheering, waving signs for those that they idolize, all such a rush. A great experience for me. I tried not to laugh at my nervousness before the match; now, I was into the match. I did all a woman should do: slap the mat and shout encouragement, pace the floor when worried, smile when sure of a victory, stuff like that. The crowds were great, too. They were into the match, cheering and booing and all. Great segment all around.
After the match, getting backstage, Vince comes up to me, and says, "That was a great first time. Really great work out there. You seem to enjoy yourself."
"Yeah, but I was pretty nervous before," I tell him. "Can't wait to do it again."
Mark comes by us. Vince stops him. "Didn't I tell you to trust me on this? The crowd loved her."
"I noticed," he replies. He turns to me. "Good job out there. It's easier when you relax, isn't it?"
I nod my thanks, and he goes on his way. He's not bendable in his ways, so I don't know how long this story line will last.
I leave the arena with instructions to be at the next arena as early as possible. Driving to the nearest hotel, I begin to wonder what it is that the WWF plans to mold me into. All I wanted to do was come and help them in the women's division. Kick a little bimbo butt. Show the masses what a REAL woman wrestler is about: talent and attitude, not body parts and little clothes. Before I go to bed, I write up a list of ideas for my character. Basically, I want my character to be independent, admirable, and one hell of a butt-kicker. Other than that, I have no other ideas.
********
For a few months or so, my days are like that first night: traveling to the arenas, getting myself out of wearing those skimpy, little clothes, cheering on Mark like some high-schooler, and getting little conversation out of him before and after shows. I guess he's not much of a talker. When he does talk to me, his sexy voice echoes throughout my body. I can't stop hearing his voice or seeing his green eyes piercing through all he looks at. Does anyone else feel this way around him? I ask myself.
I give my ideas to those so-called "creative geniuses" that write up the story lines. They tell me that they'd consider them, but no promises. Well, it's good enough for me. For now, at least. One time, Vince asks if Mark minded traveling with me. I can see the anger of having to be told what to do more and more in his face, so I quickly say, "No, I don't want to inconvenience anyone. I can travel well enough on my own."
********
It is the beginning of December now, and we are in the Madison Square Garden arena for a live RAW. The temperature is below zero, and snow covers the city. I love these kinds of days, trying to stay as warm as possible, huddling together to keep warm from each other's body warmth. The snow makes everything sparkle with beauty. Very romantic time of the year.
I spend more and more time around Mark at the shows. All the time, I discover more things about him: how his hair catches the light when it's wet, how his tattoos mean more than I could ever know, how priceless a smile from him would be for me. By now, I know what I feel is different than anything I've ever felt. Any feeling I had for anyone else is dropped now that I'm on the road most of the time anyway. Maybe I'm just lonely, but doesn't everyone get that way once in a while?
Today, Mark just seems irritated, uneasy about something. He doesn't talk to anyone, and only snaps at those that talk to him. Not like him at all. Sometimes, I worry that a lot of these guys would snap eventually from all the pressure and traveling. I'm surprised I haven't yet. I never worried about Mark, though. He's been doing this for so long, I was pretty sure he either had snapped already or could handle it all.
Soon, it came time to do our performing for the night. Standing by the curtain with him, I am not sure what to say. We just stay silent while we wait. All the while, I want to say something to him, but was too afraid for some reason. It didn't matter, because when I am about to speak, the music starts and we're on our way out to the ring.
I do my usual things, slapping the mat, smiling, look worried, and so on. I am by the corner, pretending to restrain myself from getting involved in the match, and suddenly, Mark comes over to the ropes after he knocks his opponent to the mat. "Get going to the back!" he's yelling at me, pointing toward the backstage area.
I am confused. That wasn't what I was told was suppose to happen. "What the hell are you talking about?" I ask him.
"I want you to leave. NOW!" he yells back. His words surprise me, but I obey his command. I come through the curtain to the back completely lost. He seemed angry with me, though I did nothing wrong. I was only doing my job.
When he comes back from his match, I try to talk to him, but he just ignores me. This is a side I've never seen of him before, and it scares me. Maybe I was misled; maybe he wasn't who I thought he was. After the show, I get my stuff together, and am about to leave until Vince stops me. "What was going on out there?!" he asks me.
"I don't know. He just up and tells me to get to the back." I reply. "Talk it over with Mark." I walk on out to my Blazer, put my stuff in the back, and get in. I lean my head back against the headrest, and let out a deep breath. I collect my thoughts before starting the truck and driving away from the arena. The traffic is heavy, as it is normally in New York City. It gives me many minutes to think. It's about ten minutes before I can get out of the city and on my way to the nearest hotel. Rest is what I need to forget about the night's events.
********
For the next two weeks, the same keeps happening: I go out with Mark to his matches, he ends up ordering me back. It gets real annoying, but who in their right mind would challenge such a big man? Not me, that's for sure, so I do as he says. Some independent woman I make, taking orders from a man.
I decide to get down to the bottom of it all. We are doing a live show in Atlanta, and I do as I usually do. Again, he commands me to the back. I don't obey this time. He is surprised by this, and comes down to where I stand. "I told you to go to the back. Now go!" he says to me.
"No!" I reply. "I won't take orders from you anymore." I can see the anger in his eyes of my disobedience, but he just goes back to his match. I am pleased with myself, but I'm pretty sure that is just the beginning. I end up leaving by myself after the bell rings at the end of the match, not waiting for Mark.
I go back to the locker rooms, change, and gather my stuff. I am almost out of the backstage door when someone grabs my arm and pulls me back in. I turn to see Mark glaring down at me. "What was all that out there?" he asks.
I pull my arm back to my body. "I don't think I am the one that should be explaining. You should start by telling me what's with all the irritation you're feeling and the ordering around, telling me to go back."
"I am trying to get out of this mess. You haven't been around as long as I have. I am very protective of my character. The last thing I need is a woman."
I can understand, but I am ticked off just the same. "Is that all?!" I snap. "Why didn't you just tell me instead of ignoring me?!" Then it came to me. He was too proud to say so. "Oh, okay, I get it now. That is the Undertaker's opinion, but I know there is a man in there called Mark. What does Mark think, huh? Sure, I understand that having a woman would screw up all the "personification of evil" labels, but what does Mark want?"
He stands before me, totally confused at my outburst. "What in the world are you talking about, girl?" he asks.
"You really don't get it, do you?" I reply. "Mark, what is it that you want for yourself? There are times when you have to let other emotions through, like happiness and love. When you figure all that I've said out, come and talk to me. I'm going home." I turn and walk out the door, not giving him another look.
I drive the two hours to my hometown of Covington. Not a big city, but it's quiet and nice. My house is a nice, large house a little less than a mile away from the road. A large front yard and an even bigger backyard kept me busy before I went off to work with the WWF. Virtually millions of flowers cover my many gardens. Luckily, my best friend, Hannah, comes by often to tend to them while I'm away.
Right now, the grass is buried beneath the snow, and the flowers all dug up. The tree branches are all bare except for the snow. The driveway is neatly plowed, and the drive to the garage is an easy one. When I go inside from the garage to my kitchen, the house smells of dried roses, and I remember that Hannah always dries flowers. I check my answering machine. No one has called since I last checked a few months ago.
I take all my things up to my bedroom from the kitchen steps, and come back downstairs. The living room is the biggest room in my house, and is my favorite room at that. I start a fire in the fireplace, and go back up to my bedroom to take a shower. The mixture of the hot streams of water and the aromatherapy candles relax my uneasiness. All the traveling and today's argument are taking their toll on me. I relax, and enjoy the fact that I get to go to different cities and work with interesting people.
I dry and dress in a little nightgown, something I've refused to wear in front of audiences. The light blue color lifted my spirits some as well. I make my way down to the kitchen again. I grab a fresh carrot from the refrigerator, a novel off the bookshelf in the study, and head to the warm living room. As I walk in the doorway, I am surprised to see Mark standing before the fireplace, his hair enveloping his shoulders as he stares into the fire.
I am able to over-come the surprise, and ask, "Mark, how did you find my house?"
He turns to me. "Got the address from one of the office staff. I knocked, but no one came to the door, so I let myself in."
"Oh, I was in the shower. Sorry to make you wait." I reply, placing my novel and carrot on the table beside the sofa. "Can I get you anything?"
He shakes his head. I sit on the sofa, and he sits close to me. "Why are you here?" I ask him, my mind totally not understanding the situation.
"You told me to come see you after I figured out what you said," he replies. "The truth is, I can't figure out what you said about me and emotions and stuff."
I smile to myself. "I think maybe I should have been talking about myself. Expressing my emotions more and to figure out what I wanted in this life. It should have been 'Mandy, what is it that you want for yourself? What does Mandy want?'."
We are silent for a few moments, then Mark says, "It applies here, too,"
I nod, picking up the novel on the table, and reply, "It is what writers write novels about." Looking at the book, I add, "Never thought I'd end up like the girls in these things, not sure of their emotions anymore just because some gorgeous guy enters the picture."
I put the book back down on the table, and turn back to Mark. He's confused once again. "Where did all that come from?" he asks.
I try to avoid the question by replying, "It's getting late. Maybe you should get to a hotel or something. Got a taping tomorrow."
"Yeah. Guess I should be going." He gets up, and I walk with him to the door.
"Sorry if I confused you even more, Mark. That is what happens around here a lot." I say to him.
"So I figured," he replies. "I'll see you tomorrow." He walks down the walkway, and gets on his black Harley-Davidson 2000 FXSTB Night Train, riding back to the main road. I close the door, and sigh deeply, listening to the cycle motor hum away into the distance. Damn! Another missed opportunity, I think. I go back to the living room, and start reading the novel and eat the carrot.
****LATER****
It is a few hours later when I look back up at the clock. The time is almost midnight. I yawn, finally realizing that I'm just a little tired. I place my bookmark in the book, replace it to its place on the bookshelf, and go toward the stairs.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings. "Who in the hell would be visiting me this late at night?" I ask aloud. I turn back around and go to the front door, opening the wooden closure. There, standing on my porch, is Mark. I am taken by surprise once again. "Mark, what are you doing here again? I thought you were on your way to a hotel or something."
"May I come in to explain? It's freezing out here!" he says, shivering.
I step aside, and allow him into the house. "I'll go get you some coffee," I tell him, and rush to the kitchen. Luckily for him, I had a fresh pot made while reading. Filling up a coffee mug with the steaming black liquid, I go back to the living room, where Mark is sitting on the sofa again. I hand him the mug. "Here. Drink this."
He takes the mug. "Thanks," he says, and drinks the coffee.
I sit next to him on the sofa. We don't speak until he places the mug down on the coffee table in front of us. "Better?" I ask him.
He nods. "Yes, much better, but that's not why I'm here," he replies, then looks into the still-burning fire. "I was on my way back to Atlanta, and halfway there, I realized that I didn't tell you what I wanted to. So I came back, and I'm not leaving until I get it out in the open."
"Oh, okay. So talk."
He leans over to me, places his hands on my hips, and kisses me. I return the kiss, making sure to place my hands on his. My fingers curl around his, and remove them from me. I stand and move away from him. "Mark, I thought that you wanted to talk," I tell him.
"I got my point across, didn't I?" he replies.
I nod, and move toward the kitchen. He gets up and blocks my way. "Where are you going?" he asks.
"This is my house and I can go where I please, Mark. Please move out of the way."
He just takes me into his arms and locks his lips with mine again. When he pulls back, he says, "I can't. That nightgown you're wearing is driving me to the verge of taking it off of you."
Oh my God! I think. My love life is turning into one of those novels. "Mark, that's very enticing, but I can't. It just isn't me." Damn myself. Now I'M acting like the women in those novels. He kisses me again. His tongue forces its way into my mouth. I can do nothing but let him continue. Soon, I can't stop myself from kissing him back again. My arms go around him, and my hands play in the pockets of his jeans.
I pull back from him, and make my way to the stairs. I motion for him to follow me. We ascend up the stairs and enter my bedroom. Again, we kiss, making our way to the bed. I take of his T-shirt as he lays me down. My hands travel down his chest, feeling his pectorals, and I stick my fingers in his jeans.
********
I awaken to find myself sitting on my sofa, the novel in my hand. I hear a buzzing noise coming from somewhere in the house. Glancing at the clock, I see that it is seven o'clock, time to get up and ready for the next show. As I make my way up the stairs, I remember what had happened, turn around, and look back in the living room. There is no sign of him being here. I go up the stairs into my bedroom, and turn off my alarm. Everything is nice and neat, everything in it's place. No, he hadn't been here the second time. It was just a dream. A crazy dream I got from reading the novel.
I dress in a short-sleeved, button-down shirt and shorts since it is quite warm for winter, and pack my things up. I rush out the door, knowing it will take me about six hours to get to the next city. I have just tossed my stuff into the Blazer when I hear a motorcycle humming its way toward my house. I look up to see a dark figure coming my way. As it comes closer and closer, I can see that it is Mark on his Night Train.
When he gets of his bike, I smile and say, "Back again so soon, Mark?" His hair is in a braid that hangs down his back and a wrapped bandana surrounds his head.
He doesn't reply. He walks briskly up to me, and places his arms around my waist. His lips come to mine almost instantly. When he pulls back, he says, "This is why I came last night, but never got to say or do anything about it," He looks down at my clothes, then asks, "Why are you dressed in shorts?"
"Well, actually, I feel overdressed now. I just got hotter."
He kisses me again. My arms finally rest on his, and my hands travel up to his shoulders. My fingers eventually find their way to his neck. I would have continued if not for the infamous little voice in everyone's head that tells them what to do. I pull back from his embrace, and keep my eyes down.
"Mark, this isn't what I had first imagined our relationship to end up like. I never thought these feelings would come up like they have." I tell him. I sort of laugh when I remember my dream from the night before. "I even had this dream that this would develop into one of those love novel stories."
He comes over to me again. "What does Mandy want?" is all he asks.
I look back up into those soul-piercing eyes. The very same eyes that make me melt inside. I finally figure it all out in those eyes. "I want some time to think of exactly what I want. For now, all I want is a business relationship and an everlasting friendship. Maybe someday, it can evolve into something more serious, but being friends is good for now."
"Okay. That sounds good to me." he replies. He holds out his hand. "Friends?"
"Friends," I reply, placing my arms around him as he does the same. When we unlock, I say, "Just no more ordering me around, unless I'm doing something totally stupid, deal?"
He smiles. "Deal. I'll meet you at the arena."
"All right. See you then." He goes back to his bike, starts the engine, and rides back to the main road. I get in my car, and follow behind him. Sure, a romance is what all women look for, but the one I want starts with a beautiful friendship and blossoms into an undying romance. I was extremely tempted to go forward with another kiss, but realized that it probably wouldn't last long after that because we hardly knew anything about each other. This decision makes the feelings worth the wait.
The End
