The Cruiserweight (6 page)

“Sure.”

“You’re an amazing friend and I care about you.
A lot of guys on the roster have different women every night,
sometimes a few times a night. It doesn’t matter whether they’re
fans, hookers, or another one of the Lovely Ladies. I can guarantee
a lot of those dudes don’t use protection. The last thing you need
is to be knocked up by some asshole, or worse, them giving you a
disease not curable by antibiotics. I don’t want to even think
about you explaining either situation to your husband.”

“You’re right. My talent, self-respect, and
marriage are worth a hell of a lot more than sleeping my way into a
championship. Even if it means losing my title or even my job, I‘m
done being everyone‘s whore.” She gave him a hug. “Thank
you.”

“You deserve to be treated with respect, sugar.
I‘m always glad to take care of you when you’re horny, so there‘s
no need for you to fuck around. I use rubbers, and when I don’t
have any of those, there’s other ways we can get each other off.
And unlike some of those losers in the locker room, I don‘t talk
big about bagging chicks. You‘ll have your needs met when you’re
away from your husband, without all the risks.”

She pecked Brett’s cheek. “Why can’t more men
be so sweet?”

“Because they’re not short and
funny-looking.”

“Oh, stop it. You’re a cutie. Some lucky female
is going to cherish you.”

“Maybe. The one thing is when such a day comes,
you and I will have to give up the ‘benefits’ part of being
friends. When I find her, I’m not going to screw
around.”

Kyra smiled. “She’ll be one blessed
woman.”

A knock came on the door. Brett signed the room
service check, placed their meal on a nearby table, and pulled out
a chair for her. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Such a gentleman you are. I’m not the eat and
run type, but I hope you won’t mind if I have to leave
afterward.”

“It’s cool. I’m kind of tired anyway. Let’s
enjoy the feast. I‘m starving, and I don‘t have a gorgeous dining
companion very often.”

*****

It was almost midnight when Eddie went home.
Karen was grateful for the peace and no interruptions when she
logged on for another chat with Brett.

“I assume you saw everything?” he
asked.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. You may not had a
chance for being number one contender, but I loved seeing you,
brief as your appearance was.”

“You’re making me blush. Yeah, I did the kiss
thing hoping you were tuning in and ended up in some trouble from
management, but I don’t care.”

“Brett Kerrigan, are you trying to say they
were blown for me?”

“You could say that. Okay, I’ll confess, one
for you and one for Patrick.”

“I bet that made his evening.”

“I hope so. The powers that be weren’t excited
about the dancing either, saying it wasted time. What’s an entrance
without a couple of my famous steps?”

“Everyone should do ‘The Kerrigan’ at least
once.”

“You’re funny. I thought you’d be in
bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I’m still wound up from your
match tonight. I still have to go to work in the morning, where
I’ll get a ribbing from my editor. At this point, I don‘t
care.”

“That wouldn‘t be my idea of fun. I‘m already
getting shit for lasting the shortest time during the match. There
was a good ending to my night, though. I sent a friend home with a
new lease on life and a smile on her face.”

“Good for you! Many think your talents are
limited to wrestling.”

“How wrong they are. Anyway, my dear, you need
to go to bed. I don’t want to be responsible for any ladies losing
beauty sleep. I’m looking forward to your next story. Will you
update me on your progress?”

“That wouldn‘t be my idea of fun. I‘m already
getting shit for lasting the shortest time during the match.
Anyway, my dear, you need to go to bed. I don’t want to be
responsible for any ladies losing beauty sleep. I’m looking forward
to your next story. Will you update me on your
progress?”

“After my editor, you’ll be the first,
Brett.”

CHAPTER 7

Soccer writer Phoebe Sellers couldn’t believe
the profound change in her friend and co-worker. Despite being a
top notch writer and columnist, until someone had gotten to know
her, Karen was quiet in public and participated in activities
either alone or with small groups of people. Just witty among close
friends in the past, Karen now shared that humorous side with about
anyone she met.

Odd. I’ve known her for six years.
Who or what made her change?

She had had no knowledge of Karen’s chat
sessions with Brett until she revealed her secret, making her
recent personality changes clearer to Phoebe.

Confidence! Karen Jean Montgomery
developed some self-assurance! Whoever this guy is, he’s been a
wonderful influence on her. I should learn more about
him.

When she began her search on the man who made
Karen so happy, Phoebe couldn’t figure out why she was attracted to
him
—
at first. Brett Kerrigan wasn’t tall or
movie star handsome like his former tag team partner, Patrick
Sanchez-Garcia. Phoebe knew Karen had preferred striking, dark men,
and wondered why Brett fascinated her. He was a short, blond man
with average looks who most women wouldn’t have given a second
glance.

Phoebe found out when she studied the long
summary of Brett’s accomplishments. She found some anecdotes from
people who were friends and colleagues of his. Studying his recent
pictures, she noted he had a nice smile and beautiful eyes. Almost
every comment she read said positive things. Brett was a dedicated,
hard worker, always willing to train and fill in spots, and had a
warm, giving personality.

Now I understand why Karen’s
comfortable with him.

Though his in-ring character had an overblown
ego, the man away from the spotlight was a amusing human being who
couldn’t understand why people thought he was special.

“Brett doesn‘t think he‘s very interesting,”
one friend said. “There are some of us who would be more than glad
to dispute that statement.”

I’m sure Karen would. Even
I
want to give him a hug.

The only negative feedback Phoebe discovered
was concerning Brett’s marijuana use, but that didn‘t bother her.
Many of her friends had been pot smokers. Phoebe even tried it
once, so who was
she
to judge? She’d heard stories about
people in the sports world doing substances far worse than
weed.

She was happy Karen befriended such a nice,
down to earth guy. Phoebe considered having a discussion with her
about the next show she was assigned to cover. Phoebe wanted to
become more informed about the world of wrestling; high school and
professional soccer games were dull in comparison.

Karen walked out of Sullivan’s office, shaking
her head. “I knew that was going to happen.”

“Sullivan was teasing you about Brett’s
performance last night?”

“He also reminded me that I owed him ten
dollars. That’s the last time I make any bets with our
boss.”

“Explains why he’s been in a good mood all
day.”

She gestured toward Phoebe‘s laptop. “What are
you doing?”

“Looking up information on your new friend. You
didn’t say anything about him being so fascinating.”

“He’s quite a character, yes?”

“You aren’t kidding. I read about his whole
career. It’s amazing how much he’d accomplished before turning
thirty.”

Their exchange was interrupted with the worn
door of Sullivan’s office banging against the wall. “Miss Sellers,
do you have your feature done for tomorrow?” he
bellowed.

“It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Make it snappy. If people worked as much as
they bullshit, we may accomplish something today.”

The door slammed. Phoebe turned to Karen. “Time
to get back to business.”

“Yes, I also have a pile of work. We can finish
chatting over drinks later. After the ribbings I’ve gotten from
Sullivan and the other guys all day, I could use a few
cocktails.”

*****

Brett had a rare day off Saturday. He returned
from a grueling, ten-day overseas tour two days earlier, grateful
for time to relax until the following Monday. He spent the day
jogging and working out, visiting Patrick, making phone calls to
friends, cooking his favorite Washington Beef casserole, and
checking out various wrestling websites.

He laughed at the smattering of comments from
fans.

“You suck! Go back home to your
mama.”

“Dude, I’m eleven and I could beat your
ass.”

“I hope Linc taught you a lesson about keeping
your mouth shut.”

“You suck ass, man.”

Oh, the joy of being a heel.
It
brings out the worst in some people.

There were remarks from fans who enjoyed Brett,
leaving words of encouragement and wanting to see more of him on
television. He was elated when he saw Karen left her own feedback.
He visited her website and logged on his instant messenger. When he
noticed she was offline, he left a message anyway; Karen would
receive it the next time she signed in.

His cell phone rang. When he retrieved it from
his pocket, Brett glanced at the number identifying the incoming
call from company management
. Looks like I failed the weed test
again.

His guess was wrong. Instead, it was news he
would had never expected. The Creative Department offered him a
chance to guest host the following Monday’s show. Brett thought it
was some kind of joke, but the recommendation was indeed a
legitimate opportunity. Brett couldn’t believe something so huge
could happen to
him
. He began dancing around and throwing
his hands in the air. He didn’t care if he looked like an
idiot.

“I can’t wait until the next time I talk to
Karen!” he shouted in a loud, victorious manner.

CHAPTER 8

Brett pored through the script details, which
outlined his role on Monday’s show. “Another scene with Mac and a
couple other main event guys, some cool backstage stuff, and making
a women’s match?
This is going to be a blast!”

He was pleased with the attached note granting
him permission to insert some ideas of his own. “I better work on
some of my ad-libbing abilities and get something together to cut a
promo. Hosting this week’s show is going to be far better than
losing to a fifty something commentator in a pointless
match!”

He flipped through several pages.
“Wait
…
I don’t see anything about
me
having a match. Most guest hosts don’t wrestle, so maybe that’s
why. I should pack my gear, just in case.”

A cocky, little heel character hosting one of
the biggest cable shows on Mondays for one night would surprise
both TV viewers and fans attending the show in person, as his role
hadn’t been announced yet. Brett hoped his appearance was the
beginning of better opportunities.

“I may lose a bunch of matches,” he said,
studying the remainder of the script, “but I always made an
impression with my entertainment skills.”

*****

Brett waited backstage waiting to go on the air
Monday night. The broadcast opened with him being announced as the
night’s host. Big Mac, Jack Hale, and Road Rage were in the ring
when Brett strutted toward the trio to the beat of his new entrance
theme.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Hale spoke up. “Is this a
practical joke? When did they start having midgets
hosting?”

Road Rage glared at him. “Is it any different
from the World Championship being held by an over-forty
hack?”

“Ever hear of ‘may the best man win,’ Rage?
Guess you’re still bitter I retained my title the fair and honest
way,” Big Mac said.

“If you call tripping a bodybuilder freak fair
and honest, have at it, Mac,” Hale said with a smirk.

“I didn’t trip him, ghetto boy. He’s a big
klutz, and the ref ruled me the winner. Get over it.”

“Isn’t this rich,” Brett cut in. “Big boys
fighting like little girls. Of course, I should have known Hale
would show up still spouting juvenile comments. And Mac, damn,
isn’t it time for you to retire and head to the old folks‘ home?
You’ve been champion
thirteen times.”

“Thirteen times more than you, shrimp
cocktail,” Mac scoffed. “When was the last time you had a
championship bout? Oh yeah, the last pay per view when you lasted
twenty-three seconds before Mountain Man tossed you out on your
bubble butt.”

“Keep it up, Mount Everest Nose. Remember who’s
in charge tonight. I have a surprise for you and your buddy
Hale.”