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AusGlitterati

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About AusGlitterati

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Sexuality
    Gay
  • Favorite Genres
    Comedy
    Drama
    Horror
    Mystery
    Paranormal
    Romance
    Thriller/Suspense
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    Books, shows, games, movies, writing. I like to spend as much of my free time as I can in another universe.

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  1. Dude, go get some sleep, lol

  2. AusGlitterati

    Scarlett Delacroix

    HAHA! I'm glad you approved. I know I did. She's not a lesbian with a Kazi beard, but oh I wish I thought of that. That's an interesting direction! I'm happy you liked it! Thank you so much for the R, R & R
  3. AusGlitterati

    Chapter 19: From Heaven

    Oh my gosh Joe, you poor little bugger. He is the perfect patsy. Sucked in so badly by this... misbehaving child. I am soooo keen for the finale! Thank you for this chapter! It's been a heck of a ride! I wasn't ready for that morbid ending, but it was beautifully written.
  4. AusGlitterati

    Félix Delacroix

    "Do I have to be there?" He'd whined to his mother earlier that day. As expected, she went from reasonable to mean-spirited in the blink of an eye. "Yes, you do!" Elaine had snapped at him, not even bothering to look at him. "It's only two hours, Fox. You can spare two hours of your life for your brother. Today isn't just about you, or had you forgotten?" ~ Two hours. From six until eight. He slipped a glance at the gorgeous golden clock hanging on the wall behind him, and his heart sank in his chest when he saw it was somehow only sixteen minutes past six. He was so bored. Rémy was to his left, laughing and chattering with a massive smile on his pink lips. It wasn't to say he couldn't have a good time with Rémy of course. The two had been best friends since before they were born - hugging in the womb during one of Elaine's ultrasounds. However, while Rémy's co-stars were sitting by him at the table, Félix may as well have not existed at all. Laughter and merriment were coming from the far end of the table to his right. Scarlett, Kazimierz and Naomi were having a terrific time together, it seemed. What he wouldn't give to join them and enjoy himself, but he didn't have that luxury. He was sitting opposite Noah Kelly, his gold-digging disgrace of a step-father, with the little bastard Adlai, neither of whom Félix wanted to see tonight. What Rémy had been thinking, inviting the three stooges, was beyond his understanding. To his right, Elaine and Odette were having a riveting conversation of their own in French - some of which Félix understood, but not enough to be interested. They only spoke it in his presence to spite him, he knew. The whole family did. "Are you still with us, Fox?" Noah asked him suddenly. He was smiling and his brown eyes twinkled in the light of the extravagant chandelier overhead. What a tool. "It's Félix," he answered shortly, irritated that Noah used his nickname. If he was rude enough, his stupid step-father might not want to engage in conversation. If Noah got the hint, he chose to ignore it. "Have you heard anything from Cerise?" Noah asked, fiddling with the collection of forks in front of him. He was looking as uncomfortable as Félix was, which wasn't a surprise. Noah's family was dirt poor until he married Elaine, and he was like a fish out of water. "She hasn't turned up yet." "How could I?" Félix shot back. "It's not like she tells me anything. Besides, we're not supposed to be on our phones, are we? It's not stopping Adlai though. He hasn't put his down since we got here. Why don't you ask him?" "Somehow I don't think they're texting buddies," Noah's paltry attempt at humour was poorly received and the French-Canadian groaned out loud. "It's my birthday," he hissed with impertinence. "Can you just leave me alone for this one day? Please? That's all I ask. Just shut up." He should have known Elaine was keeping one eye and ear on him at all times because she paused her conversation mid-sentence and came down on him like a ton of bricks. "I've already warned you," she growled at him, loud enough to draw attention from the surrounding family and guests. "You're eighteen now, so act like it. Behave yourself, just for tonight." "Ugh, what's the point?" Félix felt resentment and anger bubbling out of him. Rémy's vivid green eyes narrowed, his cold, unfriendly gaze giving Félix chills in his spine. Odette looked at him the same way. With contempt. "Yeah, well, I may as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb," he added, realising he'd already crossed the event horizon and there was no way of getting out. "Even if I were the perfect little beau like Rémy, you'd find some reason to hate my guts anyway. There's no reason to try and impress any of you if it's never going to happen, so I'll make this easy for you. Go fuck yourself, Noah. Go fuck yourself, Mum." It was silent in the room. Neither the VIP table nor the surrounding staff made a noise as Félix stood up and stormed out. Everyone stared back at him. Some were furious. Some were shocked. Most were confused. Rémy though, Rémy didn't seem to react at all, his face frozen in stoic apathy. That hurt the most and forced tears to well in his eyes. He was used to being the disappointment, the bane of Elaine's existence, but he didn't even want to think about upsetting Rémy. Félix wasted little time in leaving the extravagant VIP room, descending the gorgeous marble staircase and shutting the front door behind him. On the street, he tore his jade tie off and threw it onto the road to let it get run over by the passing vehicles. He ran his hands back and forth through his hair, allowing it return to the short, wild tousle he liked and tore his shirt tails out of the confines of his pants. He hated this pompous socialite crap. He hated that Odette had wholly sucked his brother into it. "What are you doing?" Rémy asked, gently closing the door behind him. He frightened Félix - he hadn't heard his brother approach. "Just go back inside, Rém," he tried to wave him away, but to his surprise, Rémy didn't do what he said. The boy stood right where he was. "Fox, what are you doing?" His brother asked a second time, folding his arms. There was no way Félix was going to avoid this conversation. He'd put his gloves on, wine coloured silk that matched his outfit perfectly. It must be so easy being Rémy, he thought bitterly. "What? Did you expect me to stay up there? With everyone treating me like shit? Cut it out, Rém. You know me better than that," Félix leaned against the cool exterior wall of L'Atelier. "I bet they're all talking about what a miserable fucking failure I am, hey?" "No," Rémy replied, his face as still as stone. "Frankly, nobody said anything. You did exactly what everyone expected." "What about you?" Félix asked nervously after a moment, looking down at his little hands. "Me?" Rémy mimicked him, leaning the same way his brother was. "How nice of you to remember me. Well, what about me? Am I upset with you? Is that what you want to know?" "Okay, yep, I see," Félix grimaced at his brother's sarcastic questions and nodded. "You are pissed at me." "Fox, do you remember our sixteenth?" Rémy asked him, using the back of his glove to brush his long fringe from his face. He wouldn't use the fingers. They'd touched the wall. They were contaminated. "You know I don't," Félix frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "I was off my face." "No, you were on your face," Rémy gave a small, cold laugh. "You passed out at nearly ten o'clock. I suppose I can hardly blame you; it was the first year our mother let us drink alcohol. I didn't have a lot of fun. I spent the whole night making sure you didn't die in your sleep. What about our ninth birthday? Do you remember that? "Not really--" Félix was cut off by his brother resuming his rant. This looked to be a one-person conversation. "We went bowling because you had the tantrum of the century and decided a day out at the park like I wanted wasn't enough for you, so we did what you wanted because you know I couldn't argue. And then the next year, was it the arcade or the pool party? They all blend into one long nightmare, you know? You ruined birthdays for me, Fox. I fucking hate them. Every year is another day all about you, but I was still there every single time because I thought that's what I supposed to do. I can't begin to explain how much it gladdens my heart to see that it took you all of twenty minutes to break a tradition I maintained for seventeen years." "Okay," Félix felt his guts writhing like a coil of snakes. "So you were upset and hating me for seventeen years and you only now thought to say something about it?" "I told you every way I knew how," Rémy's eyes blazed like emerald fire. Félix was starting to miss the days when Rémy never looked at anybody. It was so intense. Did he look like this when he made eye contact? "You know, I didn't organise this night just to spite you, Félix." He never calls me Félix. Never. "I just wanted it for me. I wanted to see if you cared about me and what I want - as I do for you. You proved that you don't." "That's not true!" Félix exclaimed, his feelings hurt by the claims his brother was making. How could Rémy even say that? He cared about his brother more than anyone else did. "Look, I'm sorry," he began to comb his hair back into the neater slicked look had when the night began. "I'm a dick, and I'm sorry. I don't have my tie, but I'll come back and apologise--" "Come back?" Rémy stood up straight, drumming his fingers on the wall. "I didn't say I wanted you to come back." "Huh?" Félix screwed up his face. "Isn't that why you came after me? I thought that was what you wanted?" "No, Fox. I came out here to tell you to go home. You're not welcome here." Rémy didn't even bat an eyelid when he spoke. When did he get so bold? When did he decide he hates me? Did their mother finally get to him too? Never before in their eighteen years had his brother spoken to him that way. "How can you be such a bitch to me?" Félix asked, taking the step to put his toes to Rémy's, who still hadn't moved his face at all. "You're kicking me out? What's the matter with you? I've been taking care of you our entire lives and now you're done with me because you think you're hot shit now, or something?" "Don't put words in my mouth," Rémy's mouth frowned just enough to show on his handsome face. "I don't need you to speak for me. I'm doing you a favour, Fox. Just go to your party and have fun with your friends. I'm going back upstairs to enjoy my dinner with the people who can be bothered to spend it with me. For the record, I was happy to suffer in silence at your glorified booze-up tonight, but now I know I don't have to. To your credit Fox, this is definitely the best birthday you've ever given me," Rémy's dry, cold reply did nothing but intensify the ire in his brother. If it were anyone else, Félix would have punched him right in the face. But Rémy knew that. With what could only be interpreted as a sneer, the debonair boy turned on his heel and opened up the L'Atalier door, leaving his brother rejected and bewildered in the cold, dark street. "Fuck you, Rémy. Have fun up there. Just remember they're only here because you're messed up in the head. They feel sorry for you. I'm the only one who actually cares about you! You're kidding yourself if you think they do! Good luck with those two-faced assholes that you chose over the one person who loves you," Félix was so angry. He knew the things he was saying were entirely out of order and he was expecting Rémy to get mad, or break down, or react in any way, but instead, his brother only gave a nonchalant shrug. "You could be right," he answered icily. "It just broke my heart when you left and everyone all followed you out at once to make sure you're okay. Tsk. Give them my love, will you? Make sure to keep the noise down out here so I don't get jealous. Good night, Fox." By the time Félix had walked his way to the train station, the tears had not yet stopped dribbling from his eyes. Rémy's savage, deadly words had plunged right into his heart, a calculated and precise strike to maximise the damage. How could his brother be so cruel to him? He'd made every sacrifice, every effort to make sure Rémy was as happy as possible when they were growing up. So, what now? Rémy didn't need him anymore? Unlikely. He wouldn't last a week on his own. A day. He didn't want to wait until Scott arrived at the party later on. He needed to see his boyfriend now. He pulled his phone out and sent him a text. [FÉLIX] 'Hey, can you meet me at my house?' [SCOTT] 'What? Aren't you at dinner?' [FÉLIX] 'Fuck dinner. I want to see you.' [SCOTT] 'Is it important?' [FÉLIX] 'Yeah.' [SCOTT] 'I can't come to yours. You know that.' [FÉLIX] 'Nobody's home. Just Hannah and Ben. You can sneak in. Nobody will rock up til after eight. I need you.' [SCOTT] 'Too risky. Just meet me at the park near yours, alright? Our spot. Love you x' An audible moan of disappointment made its way through Félix's lips. He had hopes of spending some time alone and naked with his boyfriend in the comfort of his bedroom while Rémy and the family were all conveniently out of the house. It was too cold to try and get close at the park - but it was in the middle of winter and the sun had already set. Nobody would be there. Still, it didn't feel good always to be sneaking around. It had been fourteen months since they started going steady, and yet, nobody was allowed to know about it. The small playground was only a few blocks away from his home. Their spot was the highest steeple of the wooden playground, and he could see Scott had beaten him there, as evidenced by the glow of his smartphone on the logs. He couldn't help but smile. Scott had a way of making things better. His family situation wasn't a good one either, so they had a lot to discuss. When he climbed up the wooden ladder, Scott did not look comfortable. Six feet even and broad, a little bigger than the children the cubby was designed for. On the other hand, Félix was very petite, slight in build and not quite meeting the mark for five and a half feet tall. It wasn't easy, but it was possible for his small frame to slither around in the confines of the box. Scott's size tended to cause him grief when the two were canoodling together. The pale boy was sitting cross-legged on the floor and he smiled when he saw Félix climbing in through the wooden ladder at the doorway. He looked like a ghost, the sheer whiteness of his Celtic skin and ashy blond hair standing out in the darkness. "You look beautiful," Scott greeted him, extending his hand. "I look like a tool," Félix grumbled and slithered in next to him, letting Scott embrace him with his arm. "I've missed you, ma moitié," Scott squeezed him close, but Félix scoffed. "Please, none of that French crap. Not today," he begged, and Scott tutted. "I learned it just for you," Scott protested, but the raven-haired boy shook his head. "Well, you can unlearn it," he pouted, nuzzling closer to the taller man. "I'm sick and tired of hearing it. I can't even hear my own stupid accent without getting pissed off." "You're in a mood," Scott observed. "What's been going on? I've been worried." "Oh, have you now?" Félix heard himself say. It was more hostile than he intended. "You didn't sound excited to come and see me." "That's not fair, Fox. My parents were asking questions. They were sussing on me when I left two and a half hours early. They think I'm seeing some secret girlfriend or something and I got a whole lecture," Scott explained. Félix couldn't help but laugh. The last thing they'd think in the world is that their prized baby boy is having a relationship with another boy. Think of the scandal! "Did you see this mystery girlfriend before you got here? Or are you going to sneak away during my party for a quickie?" He teased, leaning up to kiss Scott's oddly pale lips. "No, my boyfriend's the jealous type. He'd kill me," Scott slipped his tongue into his lover's mouth, and Félix felt heat radiate from his body. He twisted his body around to straddle his boyfriend's waist, and the two began to make out, each one occasionally letting out a happy moan. He loved Scott. He loved being with him, with someone who understood him. "Mmm no," Scott pulled away and shook his head. Félix was grinding against his rock hard dick and it had been feeling amazing. "Hmm?" Félix rocked back and forth more. He wanted to feel his boyfriend. He wanted to feel love. "What's wrong?" "No, stop," Scott insisted, using his big hands to move Félix down his legs. "Ugh, seriously?" The smaller boy whined, running his hands over the warm bulge in Scott's lap. "Why not? What's the matter this time?" "Just... no, okay?" Scott frowned and sat up properly. Félix hissed with want and disappointment before climbing off with a scowl. There was no comfortable way he could sit when he was so aroused. "Then when? It's been over a month!" He complained. "Yeah, I know and I'm sorry babe, but... I can't," Scott shook his head as though he were trying to force the thought from his mind. "Not even for my birthday?" Félix couldn't believe it. Why didn't Scott what him anymore? What was his problem? "I'll make it up to you babe, I promise," Scott reached out, but Félix refused to touch him. The blond boy had blown his chance instead of his load, and he was going to be stuck with that decision. "You always say that and you never do!" Félix had the familiar feeling of ire and desolation bubbling up in him. "I'm not even allowed to see you in public! It's always next week when I want to feel you. It's always next month when I want people to know that we're together. You always tell me you love me, but when are you ever going to prove it?" "Don't get like this," Scott begged him. "Scotty, I love you. But man, you're such a wuss. It's starting to turn me off," Félix slithered across to the wooden ladder. "Maybe you would be better off with a secret girlfriend, hey? At least you might want to touch her. Maybe you'd even have the balls to tell people you've been together for fourteen fucking months. Forget it!" It was difficult holding a position of dignity during a fight when he was untangling himself from his boyfriend to leave the confines of the cubby. He managed to stick the landing, his feet barely making a sound as he hit the platform below like a cat. Scott immediately tried to follow, having more difficulty squeezing his hips and shoulders through the narrow hole in the wall and landing on the platform with a thunderous bloody crash. By the time Scott managed to get back to the ground, Félix was half a block away. Scott called out to him, coming after him at a run, coaxing Félix to go back and talk, but that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go home, shower and set up for the party at nine. Get hammered on alcohol and maybe some weed. Forget about his bitch mother, his traitor twin brother and his useless boyfriend. He only wanted someone to love him. Why was that so fucking difficult?
  5. AusGlitterati

    Peaks and Valleys

    Hard copies the first time, then listened to the audio. 😛 If I'm not working, writing or actively socialising, I'm almost guaranteed to be listening to some book or podcast. It's far less impressive than it sounds 😔 #JustMillennialThings
  6. AusGlitterati

    Peaks and Valleys

    I'm gonna be honest, if you spied on me with either a shower or laptop cam, you'd be so bored Roller coasters make me cry tears of every emotion at once, but I really like that comparison! It's clever. A good read! Thanks for this. That's what I liked so much about A Song of Ice And Fire and why I've read every book at least three times XD sometimes the best parts of a story aren't found in the crescendo. A series of climactic scenes without much ground work is like getting right to business without the foreplay. It doesn't mean it can't work, but it's harder for me to stay interested.
  7. AusGlitterati

    Chapter 10 - Never Enough

    WOW that's not the direction I was thinking nice little twist, very sweet chapter. The progress was terrific. ❤️
  8. AusGlitterati

    March, 2018

    Friday, March 9th "You remember the last time we were in Trenton?" Diego asked mostly to himself. "Picnic by the river? Saw that show with the funny fat guy? Spent nearly a whole day without leaving our bed? I sure do." "Me?" Rachel looked up at him, only just now hearing him speak. "No girl! Me!" Ollie broke in, putting his big black hand on Diego's paler brown one. "It was hella romantic. You don't know what you were missing!" "Oh?" Rachel smiled coyly. "I didn't peg you for Diego's type." "That's what makes it so scandalous," Gloria added, and the table of five collapsed into a fit of giggles. Even Diego. Perhaps he should have taken his hand away from Ollie's a lot sooner than he did, but he couldn't deny how good it felt to have someone touch him like that, even if it was a joke. Rachel was still holding a grudge from the incident at Chuck E Cheese and barely even kissed him at the moment. Sex was out of the question. Sean was smiling and laughing again. It was a considerable improvement from the sad sack routine that plagued the locker room for the last month. That kid definitely knew how to throw a world-class sulk. Diego felt incredibly shy looking at him. The dream he'd had of his friend two nights ago, the one that made him wake up sweating, panting and shaking with desire kept replaying through his mind. Ever since that day Ollie revealed that Sean Fox was an "insatiable power bottom," Diego had uncomfortable and intrusive thoughts about his younger friend. It's because he's pretty, Diego told himself. He's cute and you haven't had sex in weeks. It's only natural. It doesn't mean anything. Still, memories the mewls of ecstasy that escaped from the boy's mouth and the look of lust in his eye as Diego made love to him didn't go away. Sean was innocently doing a crossword with his glasses on and his hair in a messy ponytail, but Diego couldn't see him any other way now. It was just as well that their storyline had come to a close and they would likely not be wrestling each other for a while. "An exotic fruit," Sean mumbled aloud, the end of the pen in his mouth. "Nine letters? Ends with a T?" "Lovecraft," Diego suggested. "Ohhh, son!" Ollie laughed hard and hooked Diego into a headlock. One by one, the others around the table began to make the connection, and soon everyone was in a fit of giggles. Even Rachel, the ice queen herself. Sean was so appreciative of this answer that he wrote it straight in. "I'll make it work," he wiped a tear from his cheek, his colossal smile a treat for sore eyes. "Oh, speaking of exotic fruits," Rachel nodded her head to the side, and a hush came over the group. Lovecraft was approaching. Ugh. Everyone stopped looking at him. He was still in Coventry - nobody was allowed to talk to him - for his main event match against Jimmy, but now he was also in the Doghouse for actively stopping Sean's main event push. "Where is Michelle's office?" Lance didn't even bother trying to be friendly or polite anymore. There was no point. Nobody answered him, though. "Can you all just act your ages, please?" He snapped, and Diego let out a derisive laugh. There was something about lectured on maturity by a twenty-two-year-old who still dressed like David Bowie that forced it out of him. "Oh, grow up, old man. This affects you as well. Unless you think that bullying me is more important than your career," Lance's voice was unique to him. Deep, almost baritone, but with an incredibly effeminate edge. "Bullying?" Ollie stood up, wincing on his bad leg and leaning on his crutch. He wasn't required to be backstage, but every few weeks he liked to come along for the show and spend the weekend in his boyfriend's hotel room. "Hey kid, you think this is about bullying you?" "What other way would you use to describe it?" Lance asked, turning his eyes to the big man. He wore red contact lenses tonight, matching his long, fluffy red hair. "I think justice is a good one," Ollie pointed at Lance. "You know, if you just put your head down, humbled yourself and did your time, you'd probably have a seat here with the rest of us right now, but you stepped the line, friend. Way over it." "Mmhmm," Lance pursed his red lips - what man wears lip gloss? Seriously? Could Lovecraft be trying any harder to milk the gay boy in a man's world angle? It was cheap. It was pathetic. "Please, tell me all about how I spit on our culture and deserve all this petty, high school drama bollocks?" "Hehehe, he said bollocks," Sean giggled quietly, and the girls both suppressed a smile as well. "You stole my baby's push," Ollie was the only one who didn't find it funny. His voice changed, and he sounded angry and mean, a far cry from the vivacious Vickery they were so familiar with. "He worked his fine ass off wrestling in the kind of dumps you don't want to hear about for five years to get here, and he worked what was left of his fine ass off for an opportunity to get to the stars. You're a hell of a dancer, kid, and you've got a great look. Nobody can say otherwise, but you do not deserve this place on the roster. You don't deserve to be here. Seano does, and now that you've messed with his career, his paycheck and his life, you aren't going to have a friend in the world. Kid... why are you even trying to be a wrestler? It's not for you. Just quit while you're ahead, yeah?" Rachel, Diego and Gloria all started to clap their hands in agreement. Ollie summed it up perfectly in terms even the rubbish English ponce could understand. Diego felt a flash of guilt run through him, though. As much as Lance deserved to be ostracised and excluded from the locker room, it wasn't his fault what happened to Sean. It was his. Better him than me, Diego thought, struggling to make eye contact with anyone. "I don't need friends," Lance said, finally. He didn't sound so cocky anymore. "I'm going to succeed with or without you. All of you. I just don't understand why you're all so miffed with me when it was Michelle who made that decision, not me. You know who is also getting pushed over Fox? Diego Silva, sitting right over there, the one who is actually going to be wrestling in the main event, and you hypocrites don't even blink an eye. I'm glad all this happened, I really am, because now I can see that I can do better than the lot of you." Ollie and Sean both whistled together. Gloria raised her eyebrows, and Diego could see she was forcing herself to keep her mouth shut. "He's paid his dues!" Rachel exclaimed, grabbing Diego's hand. "Sixteen years, kid! That's most of your lifetime. Diego has been training and wrestling all over the world for sixteen years. You've been around for all sixteen months. If Diego were pushed, it'd be different, but because it's you being pushed, not him, we're all pretty pissed off." Ouch, Rachel, Diego thought, his eyes falling to the table. He knew it was the truth, but hearing it out loud was different. Even though Lance was only acting as a valet, he was the one drawing in viewers and garnering heat for the matches Diego was wrestling. That was why plans for Sean had been cut and Diego was in his place now. "Oh, sure! Blame me because management actually likes me!" Lance threw up his hands in frustration. "Well, I suppose I'm sorry that I'm such a big draw. I suppose I'd be jealous of me too if I were in your position. What does it feel like to know you've put years of effort and work into your career, only to have the crowd more interested in someone who hasn't even been on television for three months? Pretty useless, I'm guessing. I can see why you're all so devoted to this stupid vendetta against me. Without it, you'd probably have to face the fact that you're all completely expendable. Especially you," he pointed at Diego, his long, red nail shining in the overhead light. "You should be throwing yourself on your knees for me! If it weren't for me, you'd have got the pink slip by now after working sixteen years and having nothing to show for it!" The words hit Diego with the force of an elephant making love to a cat. The atmosphere changed. All five of them looked up at Lance with so much venom that it was a miracle the boy's skin didn't peel off. "Okay darling," Gloria said tersely, standing up and speaking before any of the others did. She was experienced in locker room politics. "I understand you're very new here and we've been putting you through a hard time, so I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. If you want Michelle's office, it's back the way you came, second door on the right from the back entrance." Lance's excessive eye makeup often made it difficult to assess what he was thinking, or how he was feeling, but right now, it was just pain. In spite of his words, he wasn't coping so well with the situation. He nodded and walked away, his designer shoes clacking loudly against the floor. "You could have given him the wrong directions at least," Sean mumbled, his face screwed up in rage. "Shown him to the highway or something." "I could have, but that would have just been kicking him when he's down," Gloria shook her head sadly. "I don't like doing this to someone, especially when we don't know for sure that he rang up Marg to get the plans changed halfway through the show." "Of course he did," Diego snapped at her. "He's a brat. Spoiled little douchebag. When does Marg ever make Michelle change plans without a day's notice? He was in on it for sure." "Hey, do you boys want to play a little prank on him?" Rachel asked with a mischievous glint in her eye. "What do you have in mind?" Ollie asked curiously, and she grinned at him. It was a little strange having Lovecraft in his corner during his matches. At ringside, the red boy was always vocal. Encouraging him, taunting his opponent and rallying the fans. He was energetic and drew attention to himself - which had its pros and cons. The match was supposed to be the priority, and Lance hadn't gotten the hang of when to showboat and when to direct the audience to Diego yet. Still, Diego scored another victory, this time against Giorgio Morelli. Giorgio was a jobber, paying his dues early in his career, but every victory made Diego look stronger. He needed them after his long streak of losses in the last quarter of 2017 to look like a suitable threat to Jimmy Vause's championship. Usually, Diego waited for Lance to get changed and get out to minimise the time they had to spend together, but he wanted to be there for this and followed the red boy there. Lance stopped in his tracks when he saw his street clothes in shreds, Ollie and Sean still using the scissors they'd lifted from the seamstress to cut up the boy's gargantuan red bow tie. "Why?" Lance wailed, putting his hands to his mouth. "We don't appreciate clowns around here," Ollie told him coldly. "So since you don't seem to get the message, we thought we'd try a little harder." "Why though?" Lance sniffed, and his body shook. "Oh stop!" Diego rolled his eyes. "There's no crying in wrestling." "This isn't wrestling!" Lance shouted back at him. Loud. Angry. Sad. "Why would you actually go through my bag and destroy all my clothes? What the hell is wrong with you?" "Oh... I'm sorry," Sean said, putting the scissors down on the bench. "Were they expensive?" "Yes, but don't let that stop you!" Lance wiped his eyes, streaking the obscene amount of mascara across his cheekbones. Gross. "Well, it didn't stop you," Sean was furious and even a little scary. He was still dressed in his Captain America t-shirt and denim shorts, his hair tied behind his head and his glasses on his long nose. Most of the time he looked totally harmless, but Diego didn't like the look of rage in his eyes. "It sucks when someone messes with you, doesn't it?" Sean continued, walking up to Lovecraft. Lance backed away from him but eventually hit the tiled wall, and Sean almost pressed their noses together. Diego went to separate them, but Ollie shook his head at him, and he stayed put. "Do you even realise what you did to Ollie and me? This isn't just about who gets to be on television, you know! My boyfriend is injured and he won't be able to get back in the ring for months yet. He's not working shows, so he's not getting any money. I'm the only one who brings home a paycheck right now! Do you know what else I bring home? Debt! A mortgage! Bills and taxes! Ollie's medical costs! We aren't made of money, Lance!" As Sean ranted, more tears streaked black down Lance's face. Sean seemed to go from angry to upset the longer he spoke. Although he was several inches shorter than the red boy, he still seemed to tower over him. "Getting that push meant getting the raise I needed to keep us above water. I did everything I could! I put myself at risk and I took bumps that even Jimmy Vause is scared to do! Oliver watched me go to sleep in pain every night for weeks. I finally got what I worked so hard for, and you've just gone and taken it all away from me, just like that. Now I get to keep asking my parents for money after I convinced them after ten years that I can make a career out of wrestling, all because you wanted to shake your ass at the end of the show instead of the middle of the card. So that's what the hell is wrong with me!" "I didn't do anything!" Lance wept, hiding his face behind his hands. "I had nothing to do with that! I don't understand why you keep blaming me for something Mrs Bloom decided!" "So you're saying you didn't go over 'Chelle's head?" Ollie snorted. "Because the only way she'd change her plans in the middle of the card is if Marg gave her the call, and Marg would only do that if some spoiled celebrity kid begged her for a second chance." "I didn't!" Lance forced his way past Sean and grabbed his bag. "You're all psychotic! What happened to you guys to make you all so paranoid? Sod off the lot of you! And don't you ever touch my stuff again!" He stormed off and glared daggers at Diego on his way past. Diego smirked, and Lance shoved him with both his hands. "I'm glad you're having fun, but you're wasting your time!" He shouted. A small audience had gathered by now, and Lance looked around at all of them. Giorgio and Jimmy were there, as well as a handful of other male wrestlers. "If you think you can scare me away with this rubbish, you can all think again. Do you think I haven't been dealing with people like you my entire life? There's nothing I haven't seen before, and you can't scare me. Get used to it, because Lovecraft is going to be around for a long time yet!" ~ Saturday, March 17th He whistled, and Sean finally saw him before sidling his way through the tables and taking a seat opposite him. "I'm sorry! I had trouble seeing you," Sean explained, pointing to his eyes. "Why aren't you wearing the specs?" Diego asked. "Am I too ugly to look at?" "No, you're far too cute, it gives me a headache," the boy beamed back at him, and Diego felt his heart leap. Is Sean flirting right now? Or is he just being friendly? He couldn't ever tell the difference. "You look great," Diego observed out loud, the words still feeling foreign to him. "Not like a slowly developing teenage girl." Why did I say that? "Wow!" Sean pretended to be offended, combing his hair back behind his shoulders. He'd had several inches of it cut off recently and it now only caressed his shoulder blades. "And you're wondering why Rachel decided to cancel on you. You could use some work on your bedside manner, Di!" "Yeah, well, she and I haven't had a night out together since we took my kids to Chuck E Cheese," Diego sighed. "I can't say I was surprised, but I didn't want to waste a reservation." "And I was your first choice to invite out?" Sean asked cheerfully. "That's so sweet of you!" "Well, it seemed like a great choice, you know? Ollie's all the way down in Knoxville and Rach probably has Vause's hand down her shirt right now, so it makes sense to not be lonely together," he explained, ignoring the racing of his heart at Sean's frequent compliments. "How pragmatic of you," Sean teased him and rested his head on his cheek. He'd dressed up in a black collared shirt with a grey waistcoat buttoned up over the top. He gasped when he saw the prices on the menu he opened, and Diego quickly hushed him. "It's fine, I've got the bill. Go crazy," he grinned, and Sean looked up in horror. "I can't do that!" He stammered, closing the little booklet and placing it back down in front of him. "I'll be fine, it's fine." "Sean, I mean it," Diego insisted while he drew his finger down the wine list. "I invited you out so we could have a good time, not so you could worry about money. Chill out. I've got this one, order anything you want. If it makes you feel better, you can just treat me next time you've got enough cash floating around." "It's just... I don't know, kind of embarrassing," Sean admitted, reluctantly opening up the menu again. "I'm getting lectures from both my parents and Oliver's parents about spending my money wisely. I feel like Judas right now." "Well, cut it out. I can't have fun while you're busy worrying about everything," Diego smiled up at him. "Consider it my way of thanking you for being such a good sport about my stealing your spotlight." "Oh, well, in that case, you can treat me to a night out every week until Oliver gets cleared," Sean giggled, and Diego blushed. Joking? Being friendly? Flirting? They all felt like the same thing! He was confused and nervous and scared as well. He hadn't felt like this since he was in his twenties. "You know how sorry I am for everything, right?" Diego said uncomfortably. "If you need the money, you know I can spare some for you. I don't need you getting behind in bills and mortgage payments because Lovecraft cut the two of us ahead in the line." "Oh please don't, Di," Sean shook his head and put his hand up. "I've just come to terms with you paying for dinner, and I'm still not quite okay with it. Don't even bring up the idea of paying for my house!" "Any word on when Ollie might be back in action? I miss having him around every week," Diego wasn't entirely honest. When Ollie was around, Sean was all over him. It was irritating. "What? Really?" Sean looked at him quizzically. "It wasn't until after he tore his ACL that we started to hang out more." "Ahh, well, I'm sorry about all that," Diego sighed. "I suppose the gay thing always did make me a bit uncomfortable before I got to know you better." "You don't say," Sean smirked, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth. "Hey, Sean... when did you tell your family you were gay and all that?" Diego asked, flipping over the card he'd been given when he arrived to blue. Blue if you needed service, black if you did not. Neat system, he thought. He hated having to wave down the wait staff. "Erm..." Sean seemed a little stunned at the randomness of the question. "Seventeen I suppose. Why do you ask?" "I'm curious," Diego shrugged. "Did your parents support you and stuff?" Sean's eyes fell to the elaborate patterns on the tablecloth below. "Of course they did. They're my family and my tribe. They love me and I love them. They support me and I support them. In everything. That's how it is." "My sister is a lesbian," Diego revealed, and Sean's eyes returned to his. "She was in her early twenties at the time. I was fifteen, I think? Well, my parents disowned her on the spot and we never heard from her again." The gorgeous young waitress chose a terrific time to arrive. After some debating, the men decided on an expensive bottle of red wine to share together before ordering their meals. Diego watched her pert little ass as she walked away. "Don't hurt yourself," Sean laughed, and Diego turned back to him. "She was into you too, you know. Maybe you could score her number." "How do you know?" Diego raised an eyebrow, taking another look over his shoulder. "Should she have turned her head like the girl from The Exorcist? The same as you?" Sean was giggling without pause. "She made it look natural, you loser. She didn't want the whole world to know she was looking at your arms, ready to take a bite. You're about as subtle as a punch in the face, Silva!" "You think I could get her number?" He asked, going to stare at her a second time but remembering Sean's words. I'm not an owl. "Flip the card over. See if you're the first person she comes to," Sean's narrow eyes twinkled happily, and Diego nodded, turning the card from black to blue. Sean was right. It took her all of fifteen seconds to finish scribbling down her order before she came back. "Hello again, did we miss something the first time?" She smiled with flirtatious black lips and smooth umber skin. "Hi! Diego here was wondering if he could have your number," Sean answered for him. Diego felt his hands go cold. All the blood rushed to his tanned brown face. "I think he likes you." "Oh, is that so?" She let her hand brush against Diego's as she flipped the card back to black. "In that case, I hope you keep your receipt when you pay your bill. You let me know if there's anything else I can get for you, alright?" She played a little coy, but Diego could see her shooting occasional glances in his direction. Oh wow, she was such a beauty. Slim, tall and showing just the right amount of cleavage. She was exactly his type. "You're welcome," Sean took a sip from his glass. "Why would she want me to keep my receipt? What?" Diego asked. "She's going to write her number down on it!" Sean nearly yelled at him, his eyes screwed shut. "You're so clueless, Silva! It's a miracle you haven't left your kids in the dryer or something!" "Oh!" Diego flushed. "Do you think she'll actually call me?" "I dunno," the boy shrugged. "She looks like she wants a piece. You must get that a lot, a guy as bulky as you." "Less often than you might think," he took a long swig from his glass. It was a brilliant cabernet sauvignon, powerful and oaky. "I'd bet money that it happens all the time and you're just not noticing," Sean raised his head and grinned. "You're pretty hot. A lot of girls might want to ride the Silva bus." "You think I'm hot?" Diego didn't mean to sound like a flustered fangirl, but he couldn't help it. Sean just seemed to push strange buttons he didn't know he had. "Yeah?" Sean nodded casually after a while. "I think Rachel takes you for granted, to be honest. I wouldn't say anything to her if you wanted to have some time with the pretty waitress." "Well I'm certainly thinking about it," Diego smiled. "I might see how I feel later on." He did want to have an affair. So badly. It had been a very long time since he had an orgasm from someone else's touch. He'd like it if it were Rachel. He'd like it even more if it was the girl serving him wine tonight. He'd love it if it were the man he was beginning to realise he had a crush on. The flushed look of pure pleasure and passion on Sean's gorgeous face as Diego rocked into him kept flashing through his mind. It was only in his dreams of course, but that same dream kept waking him up at night. "What's up?" Sean seemed to notice that things got awkward. "Aah-- nothing," Diego smiled and took a panicked sip of his wine. His pants were painfully tight around his waist. Maybe he could get the waitress to notice if he was subtle enough. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister," Sean said to him, leaning his head on his hand. "Is that why you're kind of scared of homosexuality?" "I... I don't know," Diego really wasn't sure he wanted to open that can of worms right now, especially with someone he fancied so much. "I guess I was just always taught that gay is wrong and it's hard to unlearn all that. If I've ever been unfair to you or Ollie, I'm really sorry, Sean." "Is that the only reason?" Sean asked a delicate question, and Diego felt a flash of panic. Did he know? Was he aware? No. He couldn't. It wasn't real, it was just loneliness, that's all. "Maybe," Diego bit his lip. "It's something I've just always wanted to avoid. I suppose it's just not going to work like that anymore. Lovecraft isn't going away, as much as we try to make him. So, I'm going to have to just get used to a whole lot of it." Sean nodded solemnly. "We'll be alright, Di," he promised. "We always are, in the end! There's no crying in wrestling, hey?" The meals were terrific, and the rich conversation between them was even better. There was no distraction, no phone, no children. It was only the two of them and Sean gave Diego his undivided attention for the entire hour and fifteen minutes they were there. Gossip, horror tales of the small wrestling companies they both struggled through and laughter, comparing Michelle to that slug monster Roz from Monsters Inc causing a particularly strong laughing fit. When the gorgeous waitress, Hazel as Diego would soon learn, gave the receipt after they paid their bill and took their leave, there was indeed a message for him there, as well as her phone number. "I get off at eleven. I finish work at ten. Hazel x" "That is definitely the girl for you!" Sean found the message hysterical, even if it took Diego a couple of moment to understand what she meant. "You are so getting laid tonight! I'm actually a bit jealous. I have to wait until I get home on Monday!" If Diego were braver or bolder, he would have told his little friend that he didn't have to wait. They could get back to the motel and keep the neighbours up with noises of lust all night long and all the next day. Neither one had to be alone. They could have a lot of fun together. No, Diego thought. That was unacceptable. Sean was a man - as beautiful as he was, he was still a man. Not only that, but he had his own boyfriend, Oliver Vickery. There was no way Sean would say yes even if Diego did find the courage to ask him, and on top of that, Diego wasn't sure he wanted to. "Are you sure everything's alright, DiDi?" Sean asked again, pulling Diego mercifully from his thoughts. Diego nodded, but Sean wasn't convinced. "I mean, I only ask because you're holding my hand right now." "Oh!" Diego quickly released it, embarrassed. He looked away. You idiot! How did you even do that without realising? "I literally did not notice that. I'm so sorry." "I know you said I'm only here because Rach thought she had better things to do, but like... was this meant to be a date or something, Diego?" Sean asked timidly, tugging on Diego's little finger. "I... I suppose," Diego sighed and turned to look at his friend, who had an expression of pity and sadness on his face, and he managed a laugh. "You don't have to take your clothes off. I'm not trying to score or seduce you, or anything like that. It was just nice to... well... you kind of made me feel like I did ten years ago, you know? You made me feel like I was attractive and fun again. I haven't been happy in a long time, I guess. I have four kids to three women. I'm not even allowed to see Troy anymore. Nina's always five seconds without supervision away from trying to Moonsault from the roof of the house. Julian likes to shove all sorts of crap in his mouth even if it's not food, and Jilly screamed for four hours last Thursday because the book I was reading her ran out of pages. I'm pretty tired all the time. When I try to get with Rachel, it's like getting blood out of a stone. When I wrestle, the fans really couldn't care less about me; they're busy drooling over limp Lance's pretty boy routine. So I suppose you could call tonight a date, even if it wasn't meant to be. I'm sorry. Perhaps I just felt like I really needed a win. Honestly, I'm so lonely. I just really wanted to feel like someone wanted to spend time with me. That's all." "I understand," Sean reached back for Diego's hand and squeezed it warmly. "Between, Oliver's ideas of dates leave a lot to be desired. It was a lot of fun to do something that wasn't in the food court. So, I had a lot of fun. I'm glad you invited me. I hope you had fun too! I'm sorry you're so unhappy. I didn't know about that, and I wish I made an effort to ask. Is there anything I can do to help?" "Nah, I'm okay," Diego beamed down at him. "Thanks for understanding. I feel better already. Maybe Hazel will make it the best night of my life." "Not even a hug?" Sean's lips curled cheerfully, and Diego couldn't resist. "Yes, please," he gave in, and Sean came close and pulled him tight into an embrace. Diego ignored the feeling of dysphoria and wrapped his arms around the slighter man. He felt so much better already. ~ Friday, March 23rd Diego remembered being summoned into the principal's office many times during middle and high school. A precocious little bastard he was. No doubt he was paying for his sins by raising three kids who were exactly like him. He was a pest, he knew that now. Insolent and defiant, broken windows, fights and several times he was caught with his tongue down a girl's throat or his hand under her clothes. Principal Bennett was very similar to Margaret Bloom in a lot of ways but far less terrifying. The worst she could do was suspend him or expel him, and so what? School was for losers. Marg though, she was a particular kind of scary. A word from her and Diego would find himself out of a job. Same for the other three in the room. Oliver Vickery was here, his knee braced and extended. He'd grown a small black beard on his face - once groomed, Diego thought he'd grow to like it. Sean Fox was next to him, smartly dressed in a white shirt with black trim and his hair in a very tight bun. Lastly, Lance Lovecraft rounded out the motley crew, wearing what appeared to be the exact same clothes that the boys had shredded two weeks ago. Michelle was chewing gum obnoxiously loud, sitting behind her desk. Marg was sitting on it. She was an austere woman, in her early forties, so it was told. A businesswoman like no other, efficient and ruthless. Nobody liked seeing her around - it meant something was going down. Problems, disruptions, bad news... it was usually Marg who stopped by to clear the crap out of the way when things got ugly. Diego knew what this was about. Lance had snitched to her about what had been going on. The embarrassed look on Michelle's face said it all. "So we've had some problems," Marg started, using her hands to do most of her talking. Her Southern Alabama accent was so strong that Diego occasionally didn't understand everything she said. "And these problems are gettin' in the way of business, and that creates more problems. Now, two weeks ago during the night's show, I believe when Miss Sokolov and Miss Nakata were havin' their Women's title match, you three boys were involved in destroying some of Mr Lovecraft's personal property, am I correct?" "Yes," Sean answered quickly and honestly. Marg didn't wait for more answers. She didn't waste time. "Why would you do such a thing?" Marg asked Sean in that dangerously sweet voice she had. She occasionally called herself the Queen Bee, but Diego didn't agree. Pearl Nakata once described Marg Bloom as the Queen Wasp, and that was a very accurate moniker. Queen Bee was better used to describe Michelle, who only used her stinger when she had to. Marg liked to sting people for the fun of it. Her voice had a calming lilt to it, but it was merely the lure of the anglerfish before she swept in for the kill. "I was angry at him," Sean explained. He was scared. He was in trouble. "I only wanted to show Lance what it feels like to have someone take things away." "Sweetheart," Marg smiled down on him, her thick platinum hair cascading off her shoulders. "Mr Lovecraft did not 'take' anything from you. I made that decision. In fact, Mr Lovecraft has not spoken to me since the first night he was here." "Oh?" Sean looked like someone punctured a hole in him. Diego could see the resolve and ease shooting from him like a geyser. "Yes, 'oh' indeed," Marg mocked him. "I decided that you were not ready to step up to the main event. I will admit that you did start to convince me I made the wrong decision, perhaps you could have been pushed next month, but now I see you have maliciously targeted another competitor backstage and torn up his belongings? Mr Fox, this is unacceptable. You have only proven to me that I was wrong about you all along. You are not mature enough to be a leader in this locker room." Keeping his jaw firm and his eyes dry, Sean nodded, but Diego could see he was thoroughly ashamed of himself. There's no crying in wrestling, Sean. Keep it together. For all of us. "You, Mr Vickery?" Marg's wrath snapped to the person on the left. This was so stupid and so childish. They were grown men, all of them, being lectured about tearing up some clothes that were out of order anyway. Marg should be giving them medals instead of dressing them down. "It was all my idea," Ollie lied. It had been Rachel's idea, but nobody had reported her. There was no need to do that. While she suggested and encouraged the idea, she did not participate in it. "This had nothing to do with you, sweetheart. You're supposed to be at home resting up on that leg of yours for your much-awaited return, but if this is how you behave, I don't think I want you back at all," Marg said with a condescending smirk on her face. "What were you doing backstage and why were you concocting this ridiculous display? Tell it all and tell it true." "Lance made some cruel and hurtful comments to us earlier that night, to my friends. It was a joke we played to get out back on him," he shrugged. "You know how the locker room is." Diego saw Michelle roll her eyes, and with good reason, Marg's nostrils flared and she took her weight off the desk to stand tall on her massive stilettos. "If you mistreat a co-worker long enough, chances are they might have something to say about it," Marg sniped. "All you managed to prove is that Mr Lovecraft is a more mature and professional talent than you are. Congratulations, sweetheart. Between that knee and the foot you shot yourself in, it doesn't look like we'll be seeing you until Christmas, does it?" Wow, Marg was in a hell of a mood today, Diego thought. He swallowed hard as her beetle-black eyes found him next. Great. "Mr Silva? Would you like to tell me about your role in this display of schoolboy drama?" Marg asked him. No, I wouldn't, Diego thought, but what choice did he have? "I didn't cut up any clothes," he protested, and he instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say. Not only did both Michelle and Marg glare at him, but he saw Ollie and Sean both narrow their eyes as well. "What does that have to do with anything?" Marg didn't even put on her diplomatic voice. She shouted. "You were there! You let it happen! You actively encouraged them! You're one of our veteran performers, and I expected much, much better from you, especially after I put my faith in you and placed you in that main event spot you've been crying about! What do you have to say for yourself?" "That I'm sorry?" He shrugged. Lance began to speak, but Marg talked over him before he could get whatever he wanted to say across. "You are to be seen and not heard, Mr Lovecraft," she told him icily, and the boys all tried not to laugh. Michelle was flipping Marg off behind her back. "Alright, I think we've done enough here," Marg folded her arms and leaned back against the desk again. "Because I'm in a good mood today..." Diego fought the urge to scoff out loud. "I don't think I'm going to fire anyone. Mr Silva, you are on notice. If you're not up to the task of leading the locker room, then I will find someone who is, and you know what I think of recycling. Do you understand me? Mr Fox and Mr Vickery, you're both very valuable commodities to the company. I could take you from television, but I'm a businesswoman, and that would be bad for business. And just in case any of you little boys are thinking about reprisals of any kind, I want you to know that someone else informed me of what transpired. Mr Lovecraft is not responsible for me being here today. Good day, gentlemen. Try to make Ms Peterson's job a little easier, would you?" With that, Marg strode her way out and shut the door behind her. "Christ on a cross, boys, what the hell is wrong with you all?" Michelle was finally allowed to speak now that her employer was gone. "We don't need another serve," Diego told her, but she smacked the desk. "Well tough titties Silva, because you deserve one!" She snapped. "I can't believe this! You kids know better than that!" "I'm so sorry," Sean pleaded, and she rolled her eyes. "Then it's all behind us, alright? You don't have to love each other unconditionally and braid each other's hair and spoon each other in bed unless that's your thing," she directed her last comment to Ollie and Sean. "But we all have to work together, alright? If we don't, Marg's gonna come down on everyone. That prissy bitch doesn't know what it's it like in the trench lines. I love all four of you as if you're the ingrates I squeezed out between a bottle of scotch and my fourth cigarette." Michelle, gross."You're all valuable in different ways, so please don't ruin that for everyone. I don't need you fired because Marg thinks you're a problem." The meeting finally over, all four were as good as kicked out of the office. Ollie and Sean didn't have a lot to say and left together, as fast as Ollie's limping on his crutch would take him. Left alone with Lovecraft, Diego felt nothing but scorn and left the red boy behind. "We need to talk!" Lance called out, but Diego ignored him, incensed by the impertinence. "Hey!" He heard Lance's shoes clacking on the floor as he ran to catch up to him. Lance's hand grabbed Diego's shoulder and forcefully turned him around. "When are you going to stop this bloody rubbish?" Lance's red contacts made his eyes look as though they were on fire. "I'm getting really tired of you making everything harder than it needs to be!" "What do you mean 'this bloody rubbish?'" He exaggerated the last three words, speaking them in Lance's irritatingly posh accent. "I know you rang up Mrs Bloom and asked her to put us both in the main event," Lance's voice was pretty to the ears, especially when he was angry. "You're the one who stabbed Sean Fox in the back to get ahead, and you tried to make me your scapegoat. Why would you do something like that? I know you hate my guts, but he's your friend!" "I don't know what you're talking about," Diego snapped, unnerved by the sudden confrontation. "Plus, you can't prove something like that. It's my word against yours." "You think I'm going to blow the whistle on you?" Lance shook his head, his fluffy red hair held firm by a ridiculous amount of hairspray. Is it a wig? It has to be a wig. "I'm not stupid, you know. There's more to me than just a pretty face. If I tell Sean the truth, that'll be the start of a whole new lot of drama that I just don't want to deal with. I've had enough of all this rot. Were you the one who reported the guys for cutting up my clothes as well, to try and get me in trouble again? You play so dirty, Silva. I don't understand you," Lance suddenly sprung forward and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to yelp and fall backwards. What? Why would he do that? "I'll see you next week, Diego," Lance laughed playfully and blew him another kiss. "Don't forget; your career is so sick right now that it might be considered a mercy to take it behind the shed and shoot it through the face. Think of that before you ever try acting like a sociopath again." The boy turned and walked away, leaving Diego shocked and scared. He hadn't thought Lovecraft had that kind of streak in him. He could trust the red boy not to slander him to Sean, couldn't he? It's not slander if he's telling the truth, he reminded himself. Sean would never believe him, though. ... Would he? When Diego made it into the locker room, Jimmy Vause was the first to speak to him. "Have you been busy, Silva?" He kissed the air and pointed to his own cheek. Confused, he looked into the mirror and panicked, raising his hand to rub off the red lips on his cheek. The queer had left a mark on him. As he hurriedly got rid of the gloss left on his cheek to the giggling of the other guys, Lovecraft's veiled threats continued circulating in his head. Perhaps he did make that call to Marg to get himself pushed to the main event, but he didn't report anyone for what happened to Lance's clothes. He had no idea who did that. Something felt wrong. I think I'm in real trouble here.
  9. AusGlitterati

    February, 2018

    Oh that's terrific news! I adore wrestling too! It's definitely a niche market, hey? If you decide to write one, I would totally read that. ✌️ Thank you so much! I can't help but feel like it's kind of a hot mess 🤐 so these comments are awesome. Have a terrific day!
  10. AusGlitterati

    Scarlett Delacroix

    Haha @AmosLee1023 and I share a lot of common interests when it comes to fiction, I'm afraid. Thank you! Félix is next up. You like Justin already? 😮 Awesome! Thanks for reading, reacting and reviewing! You keep making my day 😘
  11. AusGlitterati

    February, 2018

    Oh that's good news! Thanks! I'm glad you like Sean. Lovecraft is definitely coming into prominence sooner than you think. I'm trying to play the long game with him. Thank you very much for taking the time to read, react and comment. ❤️
  12. AusGlitterati

    February, 2018

    Friday, February 2nd It had been a long drive and he was thrilled to finally stretch his legs. They could have just flown to Pawtucket, but Rachel was terrified of flying and would only submit to it if they were doing a tour in another country. That meant the road trip began in Columbus for Diego and Rachel on Thursday afternoon, and stopped overnight in New York City. Sean had been interested in participating in the long drive with his friends and flew in from Knoxville to New York, and the three of them all stayed at Gloria's house overnight. The next morning, the four of them climbed into the car together and had been driving for many hours. It had been a relief to get to Rhode Island and a miracle to get to Pawtucket. As much fun as Gloria and Sean were in the back, Diego wasn't a fan of being in a confined space with Rachel for so long. To be back in time to pick his kids up on Monday night, he was going to have drive as soon as the live event on Sunday drew to a close. Why didn't he just fly? They arrived half an hour earlier than usual - this was good. It meant they could unwind and relax for a little while. Diego didn't get to nap much in the car thanks mainly to Sean, Gloria and Rachel's obnoxiously loud car games. Gloria was thirty-eight and acted like someone half her age. Sean was twenty-four and Rachel was twenty-nine. He couldn't believe he had to put up with them playing I Spy for the better part of a whole hour. Even his children got bored of that game in a matter of minutes. "I hope you don't lock me in a submission tonight," Sean yawned loudly, resting his head on Diego's shoulder. "I'll probably just fall asleep." "Yeah, that's what you get when you keep everyone awake with Brittany all night long," Diego grumbled in response. He didn't mind at the time - watching Sean and Rachel dirty dance together had been a blast. Right now though, he was tired and cranky. Everyone was. Driving sucked. "If you talk smack about Brittany I'm going to smack your face," Sean warned him, drawing tired laughs from everyone. "You're weak," Gloria rolled her eyes. "None of you youngsters would have lasted a night with the old crew. Michelle would have thrown you out of the locker room herself, but she's gone soft." "You're only four years older than me," Diego pointed out, and Gloria waved him aside with a condescending laugh. "You're a spring chicken, Di. Thirty-four is just another way of saying twenty-one. Besides, you don't count anyway. You've been sixty for as long as I've known you." Diego knew she was joking, but he did feel a little self-conscious. He'd been making a bonafide effort to get involved and more social with his coworkers. Friends now, he was starting to say. They're my friends. "Ahh, the squad's arrived," Michelle crept up on them without anyone seeing her, greeting them in her strong Brooklyn accent. "That's great. I meant to have a quick chat with you all before the show started tonight!" "Am I going to like where this is going?" Gloria asked with a laugh. "What are you doing to us tonight, you old tramp?" If it were anyone else, Michelle would have broken a chair over them. Gloria and Michelle had a terrific relationship and very close bond. Ten years ago, the two of them had a very intense, long storyline together and wrestled dozens of matches. It went down in history as one of the most acclaimed women's feuds of all time, and their street fight match won Match Of The Year. Diego was still wrestling in the independent circuit when this happened. It was years later when KADA welcomed him into their family. Rather than snap back, Michelle let out a throaty laugh and flipped Gloria off. "Are you alright to put another feather in Irina's cap tonight?" Michelle asked her, and Gloria nodded enthusiastically. "As long as she buys me a drink after," she grinned, and Michelle gave her a grateful pat on the back. "Rach, hang in there," she suddenly snatched the phone from Rachel's hand. "Eyes on me when I'm talking. So, once Pearl's had her time in the sun, I'm thinking of putting you in line for a title shot," Michelle reassured the blond woman and returned the phone to her. "Not wrestling tonight either, huh?" Rachel guessed, a little disappointed. She hadn't been getting on television much, lately. Still, this was good news. Being put in the title picture was a huge deal. She had something to look forward to while she was in this rut. "You can wrestle if you want, with whoever you like, just make sure it's off the camera," Michelle quipped and turned to the boys. Diego was nervous. Every time he'd had a meeting with Michelle since last September, he hadn't been happy with the result. "Now boys, before I break it to you rough, I just want you to remember that I do have to occasionally follow Marg's directions, alright?" "Just bring it!" Sean exhaled, his hands clasped over his mouth. He's cute, Diego thought with a smile, before averting his eyes. "You'll be doing a double turn tonight," she revealed, raising her hands to emphasise how confused she was. "Silva, you're going to be a brand new babyface. Foxy, you're going to be a bad boy for the first time." "What?" All four uttered in unison. "I know it's unorthodox," Michelle broke in before someone could utter any more complaints. "Still, Marg and Jerry are both insisting that Lovecraft stays as a babyface, and Silva needs to make a turn if they're going to be together." "So why do I have to become a heel?" Sean pointed out the obvious question. "Yeah, what he said," Diego took no time leaping to Sean's side. "Jimmy's a mega heel, why would you turn Waya when he's so over with the crowd as a face?" "I'll get back to you on that," Michelle frowned. "I make a lot of the creative decisions, but not all of them." "I don't know how to be a heel!" Sean was upset, and rightfully so. He'd been a babyface for all three years he'd been working at KADA, and he had never been more popular than this very moment. The crowd adored him and were excited for the upcoming championship match against Jimmy Vause. Making Sean heel at a time as crucial at this was such a weird decision, throwing a lot of common conventions out the window. "It's alright Foxy, we'll work that together," Michelle reassured him. "I'm sorry about this, but it's the nature of the business. Sometimes it does my goddamn head in." "So, this double turn," Diego was upset for Sean, but not so much himself. Face, heel, he'd spent a lot of time on both sides of the spectrum. "Tonight? How are we going to do that so the fans know what's going on? Are you sure they won't mistake it for Waya growing a spine or something?" A double turn wasn't an easy thing to accomplish - turning the face into a heel and the heel into a face at the same time. It could easily be interpreted as Waya finally getting fed up with Silva's crap and just going to down on him. "Lovecraft is going to make himself useful," Michelle hesitated in bringing that name up. It reminded Diego of the custom in Harry Potter regarding the taboo of uttering Voldemort's name out loud. "What does he have to do with this?" Sean was frowning, and his little eyes were sad. Poor Sean. Everything was going so well for him, too. "Well, the pommy's vignettes have done their job well, and there's a lot of buzz about his return. So tonight, you're going to go out like an arrogant son of a bitch and you're going to cut a nice heel promo to the crowd, and you're going to issue an open challenge, right? Make sure to mention both Vause and Silva so the fans don't forget Waya's still running a program with them. Then limey Lovecraft is going to accept your challenge, and you're going to beat the holy hell out of him." "Wait, no," Sean shook his head in panic. "I thought you were trying to keep him out of in-ring competition. Why would you put him in a match?" "There won't be a match!" Michelle insisted. "He's going to come down, cut a nice promo of his own, and you're gonna beat him down and put yourself over as a heel. After you throw him around a bit, you're going to get ready to put him through the commentator's table, and Silva will run down like a hero and make a save. That should set up nicely for your big tables match next week." "I don't want to be a pain Michelle," Sean was resisting, raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't want to risk an injury by working with someone so inexperienced. I have a tables match and a program with Jimmy. I really don't want to get hurt because Lovecraft doesn't know how to wrestle!" "Christ on the cross Foxy, you're not gonna be putting on a five-star display," Michelle rolled her eyes. "If you can't hit the kid a few times without busting your spine, then you shouldn't be getting pushed in the first place. I'll be in my office if you need me. I am sorry, kid. We'll make this work, alright? I know I'm a cranky bitch, but I do have your back." With that, Michelle took her leave. "Hey, are you alright?" Diego asked Sean, whose shoulders slumped and his mouth twitched. "There's no crying in wrestling, right?" Sean uttered a sad laugh, then forced a smile back on his pretty face. Such a beautiful smile, Diego caught himself thinking. He leaned over and kissed Rachel on the cheek. "Oh hey boo, what was that for?" She asked, her eyes focused on her phone. "Never mind," he muttered. She was bloody useless. Completely clueless. Their segment was near the end of the show. Diego still wore his civilian clothes - as he wasn't participating in a match, he didn't need to change into his tights and big, laced up boots. Sean was with him, dressed in traditional Cherokee skins and comfortable looking boots, wearing his headdress. It was just amazing to Diego how ardently fierce Waya was in both character and appearance, and how Sean slipped so comfortably into the persona. Jimmy Vause, who thought the double turn was as bad an idea as Diego did, had generously taken time to coach Sean on how to slow down and distance himself from the crowd, like now had to if he was going to be a compelling villain. Nearby, Lance Lovecraft was alone. He looked sad. Jimmy insisted that Lance was sent to Coventry until he proved that he respected the wrestling way of life, and it didn't look like it was going to happen any time soon. Aside from Michelle and the backstage crew, nobody spoke to him unless it was necessary for the job. Diego had no sympathy for him. Neither did Sean. Still, for the segment to work, all the pettiness and drama backstage needed to be dropped. They were professionals, all of them. Diego would do his best to make his new alliance with Lance look genuine, no matter how much he hated him. Lance was in bedazzling new attire, his boots, sleeves and short-shorts all glittery and intensely red, the same colour as his hair. Total freaking drag queen. He even had a sash the same colour. Pathetic. Sean's music hit and he begrudgingly stepped through the curtain. Diego observed him on the monitor. The crowd was so excited to see him, but Sean did not return their love this time. He looked furious. A common trick to getting into the mindset of a heel character was to channel real frustrations, and Sean had no shortage of those tonight. His promo wasn't very strong or convincing, as far as Diego's opinion went. He was way out of his comfort zone. He spoke of his frustrations with the way the company was being run, mainly focusing on the fact that he defeated Diego to win a championship opportunity that he has yet to receive, and questioned why he needed to defeat Diego a second time. That's a good question, the Brazilian thought. Sean also brought up the fact that Lance Lovecraft received a championship opportunity for no reason at all. He set up the cue by issuing an open challenge. Lance slipped past Diego and awaited his music. The moment it hit, he seemed to come to life. A huge smile adorned his red lips, and he strutted his way through the curtain. The crowd was electric. The reaction was mixed, but when someone was as different from the norm as Lance was, it always divided an audience. Still, it was easily the most significant pop of the night. There was no middle ground - people either adored him or loathed him, but that wasn't the point. They all reacted. That was what was important. As Lance provocatively danced his way down the entrance ramp, his red, skin-tight clothes glittering and his well-toned pecs and abs flatteringly prominent in the light, everyone in the stands was making their voice heard. Boos. Cheers. Noise. It was incredible. Diego could see on the monitor when the camera briefly flicked to Sean's reaction that the boy was just as awed as he was. Diego felt uncomfortable near the end of the spectacular entrance when Lance showcased his flexibility and pulled his body into some very sensuous angles. Why didn't they just put Lance in the women's division? He'd fit in so well over there. When the music finally faded, Sean spoke to Lance with venom, livid that he had the nerve to accept his challenge when he only ever wrestled a single televised match. Lance had to wait for the audience to calm down before he replied - the crowd was chanting. One half would say "We Love-Craft!" The others would say "Lovecraft sucks." For ten seconds, entirely too long, Lance bathed in the reaction he was getting. When he finally did speak, it was surprisingly solid. He was good at it. Voice was loud and clear, words were short and concise, and he played for the crowd's sympathy before beginning a short choreographed dance number. Sean did what Lance was expecting and used his microphone to slug Lance in the face mid-step, and the brawl was underway. To Diego's shock, the crowd - although still somewhat mixed - actively booed Waya. Lance must have had way more influence than either Sean or Diego had anticipated. Lance didn't sell very well, but not terribly. It would never be acceptable in a match that would be rated three stars or higher, but for a brawl, it did its job. Diego poised himself, ready to run, and Sean began to drag Lance on top of the commentator's table. That was his cue. Without his music to alert Sean to his present, Diego sprinted through the curtain. The crowd's eyes were firmly on Sean climbing the turnbuckle, ready to perform his signature Moonsault on top of the British boy sprawled on the table. Then crowd saw him and buzzed with excitement, and that was Sean's queue to taunt the crowd, giving Diego enough time to rescue Lance and launch himself. Sean did it a little early, and Diego barely had enough time to pull Lance away. Sean Fox's Moonsault was one of the most beautiful things Diego had ever seen from any professional wrestler in his life. He flipped backwards through the air, soaring gracefully, rotating until he landed hard belly first on the table, which was rigged to break under his weight. The crowd roared in appreciation, and Sean sold the hell out of it, laying limp on top of the wreckage. Lance gratefully hugged Diego for his assistance and raised his hand in gratitude, and the crowd cheered and whooped. It was unreal. Diego had never had a reaction like this before. He could hear his name being yelled a dozen times every second from the people nearby. Lance tugged his hand, indicating that they'd milked the crowd for as long as they could, and Diego reluctantly escorted Lance back up the ramp. Adrenaline pumped through him. He hadn't felt so alive in the ring in months, perhaps even a year or two! "Oh wow, that was amazing!" Lance squeaked with a mouthful of his red painted nails. "That was awesome! Wow!" "Don't talk to me," Diego said gruffly and turned his back. "Please yourself," Lance shot back, and Diego heard the red boy walking away. He did well. He did. Diego didn't want to admit that. Sean stumbled back a short while later, through the curtain, holding his stomach with one hand and clutching his headdress with the other, and wincing in pain. "Michelle better give me a raise for this," he gasped, struggling to catch his breath again. Diego frowned and put his hand on Sean's chest. He was warm - perhaps his blood did run hot. "Are you alright? You sound winded," he observed with concern. Sean grimaced and shrugged. Diego leaned down and effortlessly picked Sean up over his shoulder. He wasn't a big man, weighing in the field of a hundred and sixty-five pounds. Diego was a strong man and could bench more than two Seans with ease. Diego carried Sean over to a vacant table and put the fellow down. "Shouldn't you see one of the docs? Didn't anyone check up on you?" Diego accidentally knocked the Cherokee headdress to the floor as he sat down. "Be careful with that!" Sean growled at him, snatching it back and placing it gently on the table. "It's not a prop! It's important to me." "I'm sorry," Diego said, sheepishly. "I know it is; I'm just clumsy." Sean let out some air from his lungs. "Just a rough landing, I suppose. I'll be okay," the boy forced himself to smile, and Diego found himself admiring his pretty lips and teeth again. "Go and see the trainer or the doctor," Diego ordered him, but Sean shook his head. "I'm fine!" He asserted and tossed his hair back over his shoulders. "You're not fine," Diego frowned. "We have a big match next week. I can't have you hurt. It's just not going to happen. If you don't agree to get yourself checked out just in case, then I'm going to carry you there. "What if I am hurt?" Sean's eyes fell. "I'm the only one bringing home a salary until Ollie gets cleared. I just can't let it happen. If I'm not working, I'm not getting paid, and then we're both screwed." "You're probably fine. Just a bruise or something," Diego smiled, hoising Sean up to his feet. "And worst case scenario? If you are hurt, then I'll adopt you and Ollie for a while. I've already got three kids to take care of. What's two more?" Sean laughed and gratefully squeezed Diego's hand with his own. Diego didn't know where his broad, happy smile and the butterflies in his belly came from, but he wasn't sure he liked them. ~ Friday, February 9th "You and Rach didn't come together?" Jimmy Vause asked, drying his hair with a spare towel. He always liked to shower before the show - he had some nasty body odour and didn't want to inflict his opponents with more pain than necessary. "No way, camarada. Another road trip with her and I'll probably drive us both off a bridge," Diego replied, squeezing into his tights. It was probably time for an upgrade in ring gear. Where Ollie had a dozen different colour schemes for his signature wrestling attire, Diego only wore the same one every week until he decided on something new. Green with the gold trim, his native colours, was a nice throwback to his heritage but they were austere and dull. Okay on a heel, but not very exciting on a face. "Can I ask, man? Why are you even with her? Is the sex great or something? You don't even talk to each other when I'm around." Jimmy dropped his towel, turning away and slipping on some compression underwear. Diego snuck a glance at his muscular back and round buttocks. "I dunno. We've been together a couple of years now. I suppose I've just resigned myself to it," Diego answered, looking away when Jimmy turned back. What's wrong with you, he thought. "Whatever works for you, I guess," Jimmy shrugged and began pulling on his trunks next. He wore so little in the ring and he was unapologetically pale, unable to get a natural tan and refusing to get a sprayed one. "Hey, how are you and Lovecraft getting along?" Jimmy asked suddenly, and Diego felt his heart stop. He hadn't been speaking to Lance at all. Had someone said something? "We're not," Diego asserted. "I don't speak to him at all." "Yeah, and I mean, that's great," Jimmy mumbled, sitting down and pulling an athlete's sock over his gargantuan foot. He was six feet and seven inches tall, a huge man, with a size sixteen shoe. "It's just, you know, you guys are going to be on screen together. It's not breaking the locker room code if you and he talk about what you're doing on screen and stuff." "I don't want to talk to him," Diego shrugged. "That's pretty much it." "Hey, that works for me. He's your problem, not mine. I was hoping he'd have quit by now, but I suppose he's no chicken if he's still around. Plus, 'Chelle is going to push that kid to the moon and back for the publicity, so it doesn't matter what we do about it. I'm probably just wasting my time," Jimmy thought aloud, dragging his monstrously large boot over his foot. "I was hoping he'd leave too. I can't stand the drag queen crap," Diego rolled his eyes, and Jimmy looked at him quizzically. "Don't be homophobic, bro," Jimmy frowned, which surprised Diego. "I think he's a solid celebrity, but I think he's in the wrong career and I want to make him question if he wants to be a wrestler. We're not punishing him because he's queer. Hell, we can't afford to even if we wanted to. Fox and Vickery are two of our best workers, who cares what they get up to off screen?" "That's what I mean," Diego stammered, twisting the words that came out of his mouth seconds earlier. "I mean the drag queen thing isn't appropriate for what we're doing, you know? We need people to wrestle, not dance around in stupid outfits." "Whatever you say," Jimmy shrugged. "Don't break Fox in half by the way. I'm looking forward to having a go at him." "I'm the one going through the table tonight," Diego reminded him with a grin. "He's been talking about this for weeks." "I wonder if he has what it takes to be a good heel," Jimmy finished lacing his boot up. "Weird. He's an awesome face." Still, something Jimmy said managed to nag at Diego's brain. By the time they were ready to go out for the main event, Sean was so angry. He'd never seen the little youngster so furious that he was shaking before. "It's alright," Diego tried to calm him down and went to put his hand on the man's quivering shoulder, but Sean took himself away. "Don't touch me!" He snapped, his arms folded, pacing the corridor near the curtain. "Please... just let's get this over with." "I'm sorry this has happened," Diego said, uncomfortably. "I had no idea. I don't like this either. It's ridiculous." "Di, just shut up," Sean told him. "I'm not mad at you, but please just leave me alone." For some reason, that truly hurt Diego's feelings. He understood why Sean was so angry. Michelle changed tonight's plans - Diego was going to win tonight and effectively take Sean's push away from him. Jimmy's prediction was right - they were pushing Lovecraft to the moon. Diego was there for the ride, the wrestling conduit that Lovecraft needed. "Let's be professional?" Diego whispered when he saw the segment wrapping up. They would be on next. "Aren't I always?" Sean sulked, rubbing himself warmer with his hands. It was chilly in the building. Diego wore a cloak during his entrance so he wasn't so cold, but Sean went out barechested and always refused to wear something backstage to keep himself warm. Stubborn kid. Diego's music hit, and to his surprise, a small ripple of applause and cheers went through the crowd. Nothing to write home about, nothing that would be considered impressive for a standard babyface, but for him, it was a huge deal. The big smile he needed as a man of the people came very naturally to his face even before he stepped through the curtain. Diego entered with more energy than he had in quite a while, and it wasn't just his new alignment as one of the good guys. It felt good to be noticed, to have fans actually interested in seeing him. It's him they want, he reminded himself. It's Lovecraft. They don't care about you, not yet at least. Waya's pop during his entrance entirely dwarfed his - but it always had. It seemed the crowd wasn't yet fully ready to embrace Waya's new position as a bad guy. It was so sudden and random, so it was understandable. The early part of the match was a heck of an ordeal. Sean was very aggressive, and the bout was considerably different from the other ones they'd had in the past. Diego had always been the bad guy. Sean was enjoying the perks of his new alignment, even using Diego's hair to throw him from one side of the ring to the other. That hurt like a bastard, but it was wrestling - it always hurt, but you didn't have time to bitch about it. Sean never did, and Diego wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. It was an intense and hard-hitting match, typical of the main event. Diego knew Jimmy would be watching closely, and he wanted to give the champion a good show. Sean was like a bat out of hell as well, possibly to convince Michelle that she backed the wrong horse and he was more deserving of the main event slot. Although it was a show put on with a scripted outcome, there was a lot on the line. Both men were fighting for their opportunity to wrestle at the top, not just their in-ring personas. Diego was powerful, fast and very technically adept, but he wasn't as much of a crowd pleaser as Sean. The Cherokee was agile, acrobatic and very innovative, and it seemed every time Diego dazzled the crowd, Sean would upstage him with a brilliant manoeuvre that got the fans off their feet. The twenty minute mark passed, as the referee subtly indicated to them. It was time to set up the finish. The table was set up in front of the turnbuckle in the corner. Sean was firmly in control of the match and had managed to hoist Diego up to the top rope. Diego was "dazed" and appeared ready to lose as Sean made it clear he was going to toss Diego through the table, which would win him the match. The crowd was riled up, and then Lance's music hit. The lights turned to his signature pink, red and purple, and all eyes went to the curtain, where Lance strutted onto the entrance ramp and began to dance for the crowd. As part of the show, Waya was furious that nobody was paying attention to him and began to scream at Lovecraft. This gave Diego the opportunity to surprise Waya and lift him up on his shoulders. The lights died and the music stopped, and the crowd all buzzed with excitement as attention went back to the men in the ring. From the second rope, Diego spun Sean off his shoulders for his signature Silva Spiral and jumped towards the table that had been set up. It was well calculated, and Sean was slammed right through the table. Four tables in the last two months. He was a tough bastard. The crowd was happy with the end of the match, but Diego suspected it was for Lovecraft's involvement, and he was fiercely jealous. He and Sean worked their asses off for these people, and Lovecraft stole their thunder by doing a bit of a moonwalk and flexing his abs. It was stupid. Lance approached and raised Diego's hand in victory. Diego went a step further and scooped the red man up so that he was sitting on his shoulder, and the two sent a clear message that they were now allies. Diego saved him from Waya, so in return, Lance distracted Waya to give Diego the win. They were the best of friends. Or something like that. Wrestling storylines needed some suspension of disbelief. Sean had vanished almost the instant the focus was off him and he'd finished his job. By the time Diego returned backstage, his friend had left the building without even getting changed out of his wrestling attire. Diego felt terrible. "I don't blame him for being mad!" Gloria exclaimed as she walked with Rachel and Diego to the blond woman's car. They were staying at the same hotel and figured it was easier to carpool. Sean was supposed to go with them, but he must have called up a cab. Diego imagined the look on the driver's face when the boy got into the back seat wearing nothing but his skins and boots. "Yeah, what the hell? The word is that Lovecraft went over Michelle's head to have the plans changed," Rachel said, walking and texting at the same time. "Are you serious?" Gloria asked, looking back at Diego, who shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past him," Diego replied. "He's been trying to jump the queue ever since he started, so it wouldn't surprise me if he petitioned to change the plans. If I'm in the main event, then so is he, and that's all he cares about." "That's... messed up," Gloria sighed. "Jimmy's going to eviscerate him. You don't go and stuff around with another wrestler's paycheck and career like that. I hope he knows that he's just shot his own career in the foot." Diego guiltily watched his shoes as they walked. Lance would definitely pay the price for going over Michelle's head to Marg and putting a knife in Sean's back like this, but only Diego knew for sure that Lance wasn't the one who did it. ~ Tuesday, February 20th "Can you just put your phone away for like, fifteen minutes?" Diego snapped at her. Rachel looked up at him and shrugged, before sliding back in her pocket. She didn't seem to understand why he was upset. "What's up?" She asked, and Diego fought the urge to yell at her. He was so tired of Rachel not putting any effort into their relationship. It was one of the only times everybody was behaving themselves at Chuck E Cheese. Nina, Jilly and Julian had all managed to eat their dinner without getting it all over themselves or having an argument. "Are you being facetious or... do you not know why I'm kind of pissed?" Diego asked her, his dark eyes drooping with sadness. "You don't have to be a dick," Rachel frowned, and Diego sighed. "The kids have been taken off our hands for what, ten minutes now?" He pointed out to her. Rachel missed the point more than a hockey team wearing blindfolds. "The whole point of bringing them here was so that we can spend a few minutes together. Am I really that boring that you'd rather play with those angry birds or something?" "Alright, I'm sorry," she shrugged. She looked charming tonight. Her blond hair was bunched up in a plait, and her light brown eyes twinkled in the light. "I just didn't know this was a date." "And I suppose I didn't know that it needed to be a date for you to want to spend a few minutes talking to me," Diego knew it was unbecoming of a man to sound like the emotionally needy one, but he was desperate. Between Monday and Thursday he spent all his time with his children. They were sweet kids and he loved them with all his heart, but the conversations with his five-year-old and three-year-olds tended to leave him socially unsatisfied. Rachel coming to see him was a huge bonus, but she only ever let him down. "Alright, so talk then," Rachel turned to face him. What's the point? Rather than talking, he leaned forward and passionately kissed her lips. Surprised but not unwilling, she scooched closer and the two enjoyed making out in the booth. It reminded Diego of being a teenager and getting intimate with a slew of girls, often trying to cop a feel while they kissed in a not-so-private place and often getting shot down. "Diego Silva?" He heard from behind him and he reluctantly pulled away from Rachel. It was a teenage boy, a very unfortunate fellow. Acne, greasy hair and as round as he was tall. Apparently, this kid didn't know what it was like to have someone interrupt you while you were scoring with a beautiful woman. He wagered that the kid probably wouldn't for another twenty years yet. "Yeah, you caught me," Diego smiled sourly. Why did people have to do this? All he wanted was to not have to cook and to take his kids somewhere they could entertain themselves for a while. Fans always chose the most obnoxious time to harass celebrities. When Diego was trying to carry parcels to his car, when he was trying to buy groceries with his children scattered and doing God knows what, when he'd just gotten off a twenty-hour flight. Just because they don't have a life, it doesn't mean I shouldn't be allowed to have one, he thought grumpily. "You are like, my favourite wrestler ever," the kid began babbling and Diego sat awkwardly while Rachel giggled behind him. No doubt the kid said this to every wrestler he met in person. If only he knew what boring people most of us are when we're in the civilian world. He didn't hear most of the kid's speech - there was nothing he hadn't heard a million times. He took that time to glance at the playground in case one of his children managed to draw blood and to locate his card in his wallet. This loser was likely going to draw attention to him and Rachel, and that meant that others might notice and they ran the risk of getting swamped. "Come and sit down," Rachel said politely, and the kid seemed ready to burst with excitement and did just that. She wasn't interested in talking to him - she had the same idea he did. If the kid is standing over them, he'll get noticed. If he sat with them, nobody would look twice. "Now I hate to be rude," Diego lied, trying to get a word in edgewise. "I'm trying to have a quiet night with my family and girlfriend, alright? So if you're looking for an autograph or a selfie, Rach and I are happy to do that, but please keep it to yourself until we head off." The teenage guy seemed a little saddened that he wasn't going to be given the full night out with a celebrity experience, but he gleefully took out his phone. Rachel was more enthusiastic than Diego was, but they gave the kid a few photos apiece. It was easier than having to tell a dozen other people to piss off. "Nice meeting you, Jay," Diego shook the kid's hand, and Rachel did the same. He left, mercifully, and Rachel heaved a massive sigh of relief. "I think we need to go," Diego muttered, and she agreed. Diego whistled underneath the playground. The children only seemed to hear him when they felt like it, but the whistle always got their attention. Nina opted to go down the slide one last time before returning to her father's side, but neither of the twins was interested. They were having too much fun. "Jill! Julian! Now, please!" Diego shouted, not quite sure where they were hiding. "Juli is in the helicopter. I don't see Jilly," Nina pointed out. Diego knew he should have seen this coming. Nothing ever went right for him. "Rach, I'm going fishing," Diego grumbled, kicking his shoes off. There was no way he'd be able to coerce them to come down. He was going to have to flush them out. This is ridiculous. They're children, not rats. "Keep an eye on anyone who comes out and don't let them get back in." Diego was a very well-built man, broad, muscular and tall. It was a challenging job to get himself up and inside the structure, painfully aware that people were watching him. Jilly was the first one he found. She squealed and ran from him, as though this was all a game, and he managed to corner her and force her down the slide. Rachel apprehended the girl before she could flee. Julian was indeed playing inside the little helicopter attachment. He was far less resistant to being seized, even hugging his dad. They went down the slide together, and Diego was relieved that was over. "Yo, Rach," he frowned, seeing her buried back into her phone. "What happened to Jill?" Rachel looked up, then down and around. "Oh, she's gone back in," she laughed. "Are you serious?" Diego roared at her, scaring her as well as Nina and Julian. "You had one job, Rachel. One fu--" he caught himself before he could spill the F-bomb in front of the little ones. For all the good it did, he thought angrily. He'd been coaching Julian for years on how to say "please" and "thank you" to minimal effect, but the kid heard the F-word once and still kept popping it off without knowing what it meant, often in public. By the time he apprehended a defiant and screaming Jilly a second time, he was sick and tired of everybody. Rather than spending the night with Rachel as he planned, he sent her home. He was too angry at her. Sleep didn't come so well that night. Jilly was being a little bitch, throwing a fit every time he tried to get her dressed for bed, to brush her teeth, when he gave her the wrong coloured juice cup and especially when he refused to drive to Mommy's house and pick up the cat so she could pat it. Rachel, her feelings hurt by his yelling earlier, refused to speak to him. Sean, upset about Diego usurping his place on the roster, did talk to him but was still in a sulk. Julian decided he didn't want to sleep in the same room as his annoying sister, not that Diego could blame him after the way she'd acted, and hopped into bed with Daddy. Jilly, of course, had to follow, and Diego was too tired and upset to put them back to bed. Zoey didn't need to know about that. As he dozed off, he started thinking about Sean Fox again. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way his skin felt warm to the touch. And... the guilt. The last thing Diego thought before he finally dozed off between two little sleeping and twitching bodies was how guilty he felt for what he did to the boy that seemed to invade his thoughts day and night.
  13. AusGlitterati

    Scarlett Delacroix

    You're such a cynic Haha thanks for reading!
  14. AusGlitterati

    Chapter 6

    Another amazing chapter! I almost do a little happy dance when I see Scene Change has an update Thanks! I thoroughly enjoyed it!
  15. AusGlitterati

    Chapter 2

    Oh my gosh! I don't have many words for this one! I liked learning about Roman's family, but there was very little of Jeff - still, what little we got was fantastic xD
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