Page 120 of Wild Side
Tabby:
Listen, I appreciate you worrying about us, but we’ll be fine. This is about you. Your privacy. Your identity. Your career. If you want to do this, then do it. But do it on your terms. Don’t let that asshole control you. You can take that mask off AND fuck Anthony at the same time.
Rhys:
I do not enjoy that mental image.
Tabby:
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
I liftWill by the scruff of his neck after tossing him from the ring. “You good?” I mumble close to his ear, hoping he can hear me over the loud chants from the crowd.
“Yep,” he grits out. But I have no doubt the landing stung. It always does.
I was meant to face one of his sidekicks, but then the storyline changed—as it often does—and the producers opted to have Will and the other member of their group run out to rescue their friend after the match. I delivered a hell of a beatdown to my opponent, pinned him for a full three seconds, and now his boys are here looking for payback.
Or that’s the story.
Elle ran out to back me up. A ringer in a case like this, because none of the men would hit her, so they just let her unload on them. And for all the things I don’t like about Elle, I could never deny that the woman is a good wrestler.
“My wife says she hates your guts,” I whisper into Will’s ear as I turn him into a headlock.
“She sounds sweet like you,” he whispers back, grinning like the cocky little maniac he is before I toss him through the table he’d set up for me beside the ring.
We were supposed to be done by now. The ref has been giving us our time markers, but I’m too busy feeding off the audience. I know I’m a fan favorite, and I have been down for too long. They’re ready to see me back on top.
The energy is electric. They fall back on the classic chant ofthis is awesomeover and over again as Will and I beat the hell out of each other. And the younger wrestler is a fantastic showman. This was his idea, or at least I think that’s what he meant when earlier in our showdown, he whispered, “Daddy, put me through the table. They’ll love it. Let’s bring it home.”
I’d put him through the table for calling me “Daddy” alone. Goofy little fucker that he is.
I stand over him, watching, still wanting to make sure that he’s okay. He moves his middle finger and flips me the bird subtly, the signal we worked out to communicateall good.
Whereas if we tap our pinky finger three times, it meansred alert, let’s wrap this match up. But that’s never happened because neither one of us is going to call a match. Short of getting knocked out, the show must go on, and the adrenaline keeps you going anyway. When I’d been injured before, I didn’t even realize that I had torn my ACL until I felt a pain in my leg backstage.
Either way, Will and I look out for each other. We may have an on-screen rivalry, but behind the scenes, we’re cool with each other. He’s a solid worker. He sells the story, and though he’s new, he’s just enough of a perfectionist that I can trust him to wrestle safely.
So that middle finger sends me stepping back, cameraman following my motion as I stare down over my fallen enemy, who is moaning and gripping his ribs in the shambles of the table.
I hop into the ring, grabbing a mic as I go, and as I saunter to the center, I take a long look at the belt he carelessly dropped in the corner before attacking me. I can hear the shouts of people telling me to pick it up.
But I shake my head. “Nah,” I growl into the mic. “Bad luck. I’ll win it at Pure Pandemonium.” I drop the mic and turn to leave, but not before Elle slips under my arm and wraps herself around my waist.
She gazes up at me, grinning like we’re some happy couple celebrating a win, and I fucking hate it. “Do it. Sell it.” I read her lips, because the thunderous crowd makes it difficult to hear.
But I can’t.
So I do something I know Anthony will give me an earful for later—partly because it’s not kissing her and partly because I look awkward as hell doing it.
In front of thousands of screaming fans… I pat her on the head.
“Like a dog, Rhys! Your stage wife was looking at you like she wanted to jump your bones, and you fucking patted her on the head! What in the actual fuck were you thinking?”
Anthony has been monologuing his anger at me for at least three minutes straight, but I’m already most of the way to Rose Hill. The sun is setting, and I don’t give a shit if he’s mad. His words roll off me like raindrops down a window.
“Well, I don’t want to kiss her. The story doesn’t need it, and I don’t think I’m contractually obligated to do it.”
“This is all for the show! And at Pandemonium, youwillfollow through, and you will be unmasked because the storyline calls for it, and at the heart of it all—You. Are. An. Actor. So fucking suck it up andact.”
