Page 43 of Heartbreaker
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding…Is he making this a fucking wager?
“Take me out of this,” Brody says, leaning back in his chair.
“You don’t even have to date her, just show the girl a good time. Warm her up for the rest of us,” Drake continues.
My fists tighten, nails digging into the meat of my palms, but before I can tell Miles he can take his stupid bet and shove it up his ass, Grady says, “Unless you’d rather it be one of us, of course.”
Brody sighs beside me, already knowing what I’m about to do, and it only makes the pit in my stomach deepen. Makes the nausea push further up my throat, and I swallow hard to keep it contained.
“What do you say?” Drake pushes.
“She isn’t some trophy, Drake,” I say between clenched teeth. “She isn’t—”
“It’s you or me, Brooks. I’m being nice and letting you decide, but you better pick quick, or it’s gonna be me.”
I glance at Brody one more time, and he shakes his head. This is a bad idea. I know it, he knows it…but I cannot let one of these fuckers go after Savannah.
“Fine.” I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Deal.”
“Fuck.” My best friend pinches the bridge of his nose.
An even wider grin splits apart Drake’s face, and it makes my skin crawl. I feel like I just made a deal with the devil. “Well, boys, looks like Brooksy here is just like the rest of us, after all. He just needed a little reminder.”
Without another word, I push away from the table, and I hear Brody say something to the others before he follows. We walk through the lobby in silence, and it’s not until we get into the elevator that he finally says, “This is a bad idea, Brooks.” I don’t reply. “If Savannah finds out—”
“She won’t,” I snap, glaring at him, but I can only hold on to that anger for a second. I sigh. “She doesn’t need to know because nothing is going to happen.”
“What are you talking about? You just—”
“I’m not letting any of those fuckers near her, Brody. I will tell them nothing happened. I can’t…I couldn’t sit there and let them talk about her like that.”
“So you jumped in? Decided to throw your name in the ring? You didn’t have to do this, Brooks. You could’ve kept your mouth shut and just told her.”
“It wouldn’t have stopped them from messing with her,” I say, and my best friend sighs. He stares at me from across the elevator, eyes narrowed into thin slits. He folds his arms over his chest, and the black ink runs together. “The only way to protect her was to insert myself in their path.”
Brody scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t like this, man.”
“Neither do I.”
My stomach has been in knots since I got the text from Xander Collins, the Head of Talent Relations, earlier. He requested that I meet him and Tim Cass, the head writer for all EWE content, when I arrived at the arena. Today is my first day back after being cleared to return to action since injuring my shoulder at Battle of Champions. I didn’t even know it was possible to sprain your shoulder, but it happens more often than you’d think. Aiming for a spear to her midsection, I slid through the middle and top ropes when Rae stepped out of the way. My shoulder slammed into the thick metal ring post, and from the moment of impact, I knew something was wrong. I continued to let Rae work the same shoulder, which only made things worse. By the end of the match, I knew I was in trouble, but I hoped it wasn’t as bad as it felt. The doctors told me I was lucky it had only been a small sprain, but it was a sprain nonetheless and would take me off TV for at least three weeks.
And in this business, that can be a death sentence.
So, I can guess what the suits want to talk about—a new storyline. Or maybe they want to continue the feud between me and Rae (far less likely). Or maybe they’re going to keep me off TV for a while (less likely, but still possible). I’ve been in the title picture since last September after I unseatedHarper Valentineas the most boring champion we’d seen in a while—don’t let Bennett hear me say that, or he’ll have my head. He and Harper have been going steady since he invited her to the ranch last New Year’s, and God forbid anyone have any criticism about her (constructive or otherwise).
I can’t wait for the day their relationship ends.
Before I can knock on the door to the makeshift “corporate” office, it swings open to reveal Xander Collins dressed in his maroon colored suit, per usual. How many of those does he have?
Similar to the first time I saw him at auditions, Xander reminds me a lot of my mother’s father, with dark, curly hair and a mustache to match. Bushy eyebrows over warm, brown eyes with small crinkles in the corners when he smiles, just like Abuelo. And I always notice the small quirk of his mouth whenever he catches me speaking Spanish. Even though I know he understands me, he always replies in English. One day I’ll get him to respond in Spanish, though.
“Oh, good!” Xander smiles and ushers me inside. “You’re both here, we can get started.”
Did he sayboth? Who else is here? He must mean Raelynn, which means they are keeping…What the hell?
“Savannah!” Amos shouts my name from behind the desk.
Amos Rafferty is the man behind the Elite Wrestling Entertainment empire. He started the company in 1981, taking over a failing wrestling promotion based in Houston, Texas, at the ripe age of twenty-seven. With a lot of hard work (and some occasional backstabbing with a smidge of less-than-ethical practices, but hey, that’s business), he turned it into the company we all know and love today. Everything about Amos is loud, from his voice to his mannerisms to his strut; his presence is one you cannot miss when he walks into a room. He’s ruggedly handsome with hazel-green eyes that pierce straight through the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses and into your soul. Despite his rough exterior, Amos is one of my favorite people in the whole company.
