The taxi stopped thirty feet in front of them. It had been Shawn's idea to get a taxi despite the fact Shawn no longer drank and the event was thirty-five minutes away. Paul had argued but the Texan had none of it; he claimed they could afford it so why not? On the whole the taxi looked reasonable enough. It was a dark Chevrolet, American made and spacious enough for him to sit comfortably. Paul straighten his tie and turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Shawn pulled the front door of their home shut and locked it.
Shawn practically bounced down the three steps of their terrace and slipped the key into his pocket. His husband had been acting strangely all morning. Shawn's memory had always been bad but he tended to remember vital things. He always knew where the iron was and he always knew where the best cufflinks were; that was until Paul had asked this morning. Shawn had merely scratched his head and then begun a half-assed search around the laundry room for the iron and then their bedroom for the cufflinks. Eventually, Paul had found the items in question. Shawn had simply smiled.
The taxi driver leaned out of his window and waved to the two ex-wrestlers. Paul waved back and then gently, with some urgency, pressed his hand to the small of Shawn's back and urged him forward. This was an important night for Paul, they could not be late. Paul pulled the car door open and gestured for Shawn to get in first. Shawn smiled, performed an exaggerated bow and then climbed in. Paul rolled his eyes, what the hell was wrong with him today? He slammed the door shut and walked around to the other door and got in.
"The Grand Hyatt please," Paul said as soon as he had gotten into the vehicle. The driver upfront nodded his head, turned on the fare gage and pulled out of the ranch he and Shawn owned. Paul sat back in his seat and sighed. He could feel the perspiration shape his brow.
How had he allowed Shawn to talk him into this? For a man who struggled to make decisions in everyday life, Shawn had been clear on this one. What would people think when the Executive Vice President of Talent turned up in a taxi? The Chevrolet was fine. It was five door, clean and had leather interior but it still had the taxi name and telephone number printed on the side. Paul wiped his brow with his palm. We should have rented a car and hired a chauffeur; Paul thought miserably.
He had even bought the suit he was wearing specially for this occasion. It was tailored of course, by Laylo of all tailors in the San Antonio area. Paul had heard he did a good cut and to be honest, he could not fault the work. He was not quite to the standard of some people Paul had seen in New York but Paul had to improvise in Texas. He had chosen the dark suit with the white pressed shirt and pink tie. It fitted well and cost enough so Paul expected nothing less. Shawn had pulled a face; he thought Laylo worked in the Mexican restaurant in town and the money Paul had given him was ridiculous. But what did Shawn know? He thought money should be spent on guns and tractors.
Paul tightened his tie again and coughed slightly. Shawn glanced up and smiled at his husband. Paul felt his heart instantly stop – he could not believe it.
"Shawn! Where's your tie?!" He demanded as soon as he had noticed the white, empty space where his bowtie should have been. Shawn blinked once and then twice. He pursed his lips and looked up at the taxi roof. His left eye wandered about a little. Paul could feel the perspiration on his brow grow suddenly hot.
"Shawn!?" He demanded again. Shawn snapped back to reality within a second. He looked confused which made Paul want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. The most important night of his life and Shawn could potentially ruin it with is half-assed ways. Paul wished he had brought a spare tie or more importantly; checked to make sure Shawn was wearing his before they got into the taxi.
Shawn shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his seat. "I guess I forgot."
Paul stared in surprise. It was so simple and yet so infuriating. Shawn had simply and very innocently forgot his bowtie? Amazing really, he remembered to wear the goddamn thing to every other important occasion and event but not to this one? Paul felt his palms begin to sweat. Great, first they were arriving in a taxi and now his husband was not completely dressed. His eyes travelled Shawn's body. It started with his head and worked it's way down.
His hair was fine. Shawn had combed it back into a neat ponytail which was good, it was even washed which was even better. His suit was nice, decent at least. It was dark like Paul's and fitted except the material was not the best. Mid-range? Maybe people would not notice. Paul felt his heart loosen within his chest; Shawn had put in his cufflinks at least and they weren't some novelty Christmas ones. He was fine. It was just the bowtie. This could be fixed.
"Undo your top button," Paul grumbled. "At least pretend you intentionally came without a bowtie."
Shawn sighed. "Paul, I seriously doubt they will notice."
"I noticed! Look… just unbutton it and we'll see what it looks like. Your chest hair is still brown right?"
"Does it matter what colour my chest hair is?"
"Well if it's too unruly we might see grey and that's not attractive. Just unbutton it."
Shawn narrowed his eyes at his partner out of irritation but did as he was requested. He unbuttoned the top and second button of his shirt and pulled it open a little bit wider. Paul's intense gaze fixated on his husband's chest. Had it been any other time Shawn may have flirted but under the present circumstance; he felt like giving his husband some Sweet Chin Music. Paul rubbed his smooth chin and shook his head. Finally he said,
"You look like a 70s porn star. You can do it back up. I'll think of something before we get there." Paul turned to look out of the window. In the reflection, he saw Shawn mouth something uncouth but he made no attempt to turn around and argue. The night was too important and the last thing he wanted was for him and Shawn to fallout before they got there. How would it look if Executive Vice President of Talent and his husband were not on talking terms? How could Paul be trusted with talent relations when he failed to keep his personal relation in check? It was a scary thought.
Which then reminded Paul. This had been something he had been dreading all morning but at last; Paul had found the words. He had found a way to phrase what he wanted to say in the politest way possible. He turned back to Shawn and did his best toothy smile. Shawn inwardly grimaced. This was not going to be good.
"Babe, you do understand how important tonight is don't you?" Paul's tone had changed from its earlier authoritarianism to a more soothing one. He reached out and took Shawn's calloused hand into his own.
"Sure. It's all you've spoken about all week," Shawn replied.
Paul nodded his head whilst he rubbed the top of Shawn's hand back and forth with his thumb. The event may have taken over the household a little and maybe had been the dinner conversation every night, but it was important. More important than Shawn seemed to realise apparently.
"Well I just want to say one more thing before we get there." Paul frowned after Shawn rolled his eyes but he continued.
"Tonight we are going to be meeting some very important people. These people will be very professional and they may own a large percentage of the company. They may even want to buy more shares and we have to give them a reason to. So Shawnie, these people might not understand your coarse nature or extravagant personality.
So please do not mention anything society may find offensive. So please refrain from saying anything to do with fart jokes, tractors, sex, Jerry Springer, rabbits, Dogg the Bounty Hunter and please do not eat with your mouthful at any point during dinner. Okay?"
Shawn flared his nostrils before he stiffly nodded his head notwithstanding the fact it felt like it had been smothered in cement. He gritted his teeth and numerous words he wanted to spit out were held back. He was furious and on top of that: he felt humiliated.
Not only had he been called disgusting in no less terms, he had been spoken to like a child. Christ, half the words that had come out of Paul's mouth Shawn had never heard come out before. 'Coarse', 'extravagant' and 'offensive to society'? Who was this guy? This wasn't the degenerate he remembered.
Paul shook the hand he was holding. "Babe? Please… it's only for one night."
Shawn sighed. "Fine… What can I talk about?"
Paul bit his bottom lip and with a feeling of uneasiness said, "Just leave the talking to me if you can. Vince, Steph, Shane and Linda will be there so don't be afraid to mingle with them."
"Okay…" Shawn replied.
Annoyed and hurt, Shawn tried to pull his hand out of Paul's grasp but the larger men held on. Shawn did not snap. He looked down at the hand and then into the concerned eyes of his husband. Neither said anything. Paul loosened his grip and Shawn slipped his hand free. Mutely, he turned face forward in his seat and stared at the headrest in front of him. Paul opened his mouth to say something but promptly shut it. There were more important things at stake here than Shawn's feelings.
Shawn hunched deeper into his jacket when the taxi pulled to a stop two blocks away from the Grand Hyatt hotel. The evening air was nippy and Shawn had neglected to bring a coat because he did not think they would be parking away from the hotel. An evening walk? Shawn sighed, he loved evenings walk normally. What a way to ruin an enjoyed pastime.
Paul reached into his breast pocket and pulled out what looked to be a new wallet and handed the driver his fee. Shawn could have face palmed. The expensive piece of leather went back into Paul's breast and without a word, he exited the cab. Shawn rolled his eyes but followed suite. The Chevy took off.
Paul moved onto the pavement where Shawn was. They stood toe-to-toe, Paul giving Shawn another look over. He winced at the empty space his tie should have been for the fourth time that day. Shawn slipped his hands into his pockets and slumped his shoulders. He had never felt so apathetic at the prospect of a party before.
"I should have text Vince and asked him for a spare tie or something…" Paul said to himself.
Shawn growled softly in the back of his throat. "Will you just get over the bowtie?"
"And stand up straight and take your hands out of your pockets, man. These are important people."
"We're not even there yet so I can look like a pig all I want until we walk through those hotel doors!"
"Is this all a joke to you? Because this is important to me. Shawn, I rarely ask things of you so please just do me this one favour and follow my requests for tonight. Just for tonight. Just in front of these people."
Shawn stepped back from Paul and shrugged his shoulders. Paul thought for a long moment. His face was serious and contemplative. He pushed his sleeve up and glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist. There was still time. His decision made, Paul snatched Shawn's hand into his own and virtually power-walked. Taken aback, Shawn had to briefly sprint to keep up with Paul in fear his arm may have popped out of its socket.
Paul took another look at his watch. He cursed under his breath and moved faster. He glanced back at Shawn and said, "We're late."
"Because you made us park around the corner," Shawn muttered.
"Because you insisted on a taxi which was a stupid idea. There's nothing wrong with my car… hell we could have hired a car and driver."
"He did! He drove a Chevrolet."
"No, you're just going weirder in your old age! Seriously man, today has been one big 'has he or is he getting dementia?' day for me! Your mental health is the last thing I need right now."
"Well it's nice to know my husband gives such a damn about me," Shawn sneered.
The argument could have gone on longer but the hotel lights were in sight. Paul felt his heart beat within his chest again. The defining moment of his career was just through those doors. He was Executive Vice President of Talent now but what could he become if this all went well? The thin veil of perspiration formed on his brow again and he felt his palms grow slick with sudden sweat.
They jogged up the steps of the luxury hotel where the doorman stood in his purple uniform. He opened the door with a pleasant smile and wished them a good evening. Paul replied with his own smile and he dragged his husband through the door. The lounge made Paul stop short and marvel.
The marble floor underneath his feet gleamed pristine and looked brand new. The room was open, lit up well with well-placed windows overlooking lit swimming pools and grand chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The plants looked ready and alive and not a single dead leaf or petal lay before the contemporary vases which held them.
The check in desk was huge and oak with numerous well-dressed handsome men and women occupying the front. Computers tapped and gentle music played in the background. Men and women sat on chairs which had been scattered throughout drinking champagne. Some read newspapers and one woman who caught Paul's eye was holding what looked to be a violin shaped box.
"Champagne, gentlemen?" An immaculately dressed waiter asked. He held a tray mid-air with one hand.
"Why thank you," said Paul in a very unusual accent. He took one of the glasses and took a small sip. Shawn furrowed his brow at the charade. "My companion does not drink."
"Very wise sir," the waiter replied before he walked away to greet the next set of guests with a drink.
Champagne still in hand, Paul tugged Shawn's hand and pulled his husband forward toward the hotel desk. A sly smirk played at the corners of Shawn's mouth.
"Oh Hunter Hearst Helmsley darling! You aristocratic intellectual fellow, you. How is ones champagne? Would one like a fine Cuban to accompany such a delicate blend of flavours?"
Paul gripped Shawn's hand tighter and Shawn's eyes widened in sudden pain. His mouth opened and a whine of distress found its way out. Paul stopped the pressure when he stood face-to-face with one of the women at the front desk. Shawn stood up right. He tried to pull his hand out of Paul's but Paul was having none of it. He held onto his husband like he was a small child, terrified where he may run off and what he might break.
"Good evening. My name is Paul Levesque-"
"Hickenbottom."
"Paul… Levesque and I am part of the World Wrestling Entertainment evening event. I am the Executive Vice President of Talent, I should be on the list."
The woman tapped away at her computer. "Yes Mr Levesque I can see you right here along with Michael Levesque. I can prepare your passes and then you can take the elevator up to the fourth floor and the doorman should let you in. If you have any needs of questions then please do not hesitate to come back down to the front desk."
"Fantastic. Thank you,"
"No problem. I'll just prepare those passes."
The woman continued to tap at her computer some more. Although Paul did not look back, he felt the furious eyes of Shawn glaring right through him. If a look could kill then Paul knew it would be the one Shawn was giving him now. He had bitten his tongue though, Paul thanked god for small miracles. The woman handed Paul the key cards and wished them farewell as they left the desk.
"Why did you lie about your name?" Shawn asked when they were out of ears-reach of the receptionist.
"I didn't. Last time I checked, I was a Paul Levesque." Paul pushed the elevator button.
"Levesque-Hickenbottom. We double-barrelled. That's my name. That's your name."
Paul sighed and wished for the elevator to hurry up.
"I made a mistake. It's not a big deal."
"It is a big deal because now my badge reads Levesque when it's not. Plus, Michael? Nobody calls me Michael. Ever."
Paul bounced on the heels of his feet as he became increasing impatient with the elevator. He looked at his watch again and tried to estimate how much time they could gain if they took the stairs. It was level four and the elevator could turn up any second. The elevator pinged and the doors whooshed open. They entered and Paul clicked the fourth button.
"If you're so ashamed of me, why did you put my name on the guest list…?" Shawn asked wretchedly.
"I'm not ashamed of you."
"Then why are you making me feel like you are?"
Paul groaned. "Shawn, please. I'm not ashamed of you. This is an important event and I want the presentation to go well. We need to impress these guys if we want the revenue."
"But you're ashamed I didn't wear a bowtie? You're ashamed that I ordered a taxi? You're ashamed to be named Hickenbottom."
The elevator doors spread open to reveal a large double-door four metres in front of them. Paul thanked his lucky stars and excited the elevator with his partner in constant tow. The doorman, who wore a similar outfit to the doorman outside on the street, smiled them a greeting and held out his glove hands their passes.
Paul handed their cards over and the doorman swiped them over the keypad. The doors must have been soundproof because when they swished open automatically, the live music blared into the small corridor. The event room was grand like the main lobby and decorated similarly. As Paul walked through his feet tapped against the marble flooring.
Pushed against the far wall was a long table piled high with food. The guests, who were all dressed formally, mingled throughout the room in small groups in small conversation. Shawn's nose stung, the smell of food mixed with several expensive perfumes and colognes never agreed with his sinuses.
The band Vince had hired were standard. They had the pianist, guitar, drummer and some guy holding a trumpet not playing. It was contemporary rock, no real beat but a gentle tune you could hum too. Paul had to hand it to Vince, he knew how to throw a party. This was a huge contrast to their usual T-shirt wearing fans who drank cheap beer and swore. These people were sophistication. His champagne still in hand, Paul downed the remnants.
It was time to mingle.
"Okay babe, we'll just play it cool and squeeze in one of these small crowds."
"Don't 'babe' me a minute after you've disrespected me."
Paul snapped his head round. "Don't do this now… don't do this now."
A familiar voice called, "Paul!" followed by the familiar face of Stephanie McMahon.
"Steph, great to see you. Sorry we're late but we had an issue with transport."
"It's fine really. Hi Shawn, forget your tie?"
Paul could have died then and there on the spot. His suspicions had been correct because they were already two minutes in and somebody had commented. Paul exchanged a look with Shawn who looked awkward like a deer caught in the headlights. Paul considered asking his partner to unbutton his top button but after that ride in the elevator, he decided against it.
At that moment Stephanie felt the tension between the two and forced herself to keep smiling. She turned around, anxious to see somebody else she knew so she could escape. Paul let go off Shawn's hand at long last.
"I'm going to introduce myself to some people. Do you want to come or are you going to stay here with Steph?"
At the moment Stephanie looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Shawn pouted, it was obvious to him he was not wanted anywhere. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and then the buttons of his sports jacket so it hung open. Paul glared but said nothing. It was not unlike Shawn to sulk.
"I'm going to the buffet table."
"Fine."
"I'll remember not to talk with my mouth full. In fact, I won't talk at all! After all, I am a coarse, rude guy who only ever wants to talk about tractors and sex and Dog the Bounty Hunter!"
Paul heaved out his chest. He was determined not to cause a scene. "Good."
"Good!"
"Fine."
"Fine."
Shawn spun around on his heel and stomped off to the buffet table at the far end of the room. Paul twitched his nose and then breathed heavily through it. His sweating problem had gotten worse in this room and Shawn's tantrum was not helping. He glared at Stephanie, said nothing and then walked away seething. He could impress people better without a redneck on his arm that was for sure.
Paul had found his group of intellectuals which he was privately pleased about. His small group of company was made up of gentleman and a young woman who held onto his arm. He was considerably older than her, he had to be around Paul's age and her in her late 20s at most. They were pleasant enough. They were potential investors which was always a bonus. He already owned a few and had expressed an interest in purchasing more.
"My little brother watches wrestling," the young woman said. "He and his friends watch it every Monday night in the same way my Grandmother goes to Church every Sunday. What do you think attracts such young viewers?"
Paul nodded his head with a smile and said, "Personally, I believe it's something every young person secretly wants to be. A wrestler is athletic, he's strong, agile and he works in such a varied environment. One week he will be in New York and the next he could be in Miami. Wrestlers also have great honour. A wrestler would never let anybody bully him or her, they stand up to their oppressors and seize the day."
To help clarify his point, Paul raised his arm in a victory like motion when he said 'Seize the day' which sparked a few chuckles from his small audience. He had moved onto his second glass of red wine and almost ready for a top up. He was not usually a drinker but only on special occasions. Plus, this wine was like something he had ever tasted. It was fruity and so rich in flavour. He took the final sip.
"So tell me Mr Levesque, why should I buy into WWE? Children love it, I get that. But children grow up and your rating is PG. How will you keep your audience interested?"
Paul turned his full attention to the gentleman and said,
"Well World Wrestling Entertainment has numerous shows on during the week with a wide array of talent. We scout only the best, I should know, I scout them." They laughed with him. "But seriously, children grow up but they remain fond. It may become a murky world when you're in your twenties but I don't think you ever really lose fans. As you saw from our presentation with our chairman Mr Vince McMahon, our forecasts are good and we always sell out arenas for Pay Per Views and internationally our Pay Per Views are fantastic in terms of revenue."
The man nodded his head and sipped his wine. "I saw I saw… So, you wrestle?"
"Part-time."
"My little brother might know you. Would you mind if I take a photograph?" The young woman asked.
"Not at all. In fact, there's another guy here your little brother might know as well. He's in the Hall of Fame."
The man frowned. "The Hall of Fame? What is that?"
"It's fundamentally a lifetime award we give to the best in the business. It's a real honour to be bestowed. Our members include Mike Tyson and Hulk Hogan."
"And one of these men are here today?"
"A Hall of Famer, he's at the buffet or at least he should be. He may have wandered off during the presentation… he doesn't have much of an attention span."
"Fascinating. I would love to hear from him."
Paul swiftly sidestepped past the small group of well-do people and marched towards the said buffet table. If Paul's suspicions were correct then the older man would no doubt put up some initial resistance. Paul spotted his husband, straightened his tie and carried on towards him. He could handle whatever Shawn threw his way.
Shawn had stood directly in front of the buffet table. In one hand he held a small plate piled high with hors d'oeuvres and in the other a glass of water. Paul winced, a woman who had left the buffet table had pulled an uncomfortable face at her partner. Shawn had an appetite and it wasn't pretty or polite. Now stood behind Shawn, Paul tapped him on the shoulder.
Shawn turned around with a Salomon based treat clutched between his teeth. The wince Paul had made earlier became a grimace. Paul raised his hand and gently pulled the savoury snack from between Shawn's teeth. He took a bite out of the snack. He had forgotten how long it had been since he had last eaten. Lunch, maybe?
"How did you like my presentation?" Paul asked after he had swallowed his food.
Shawn raised his eyebrow. "It was good. You stuttered a few times though."
"I was hoping people wouldn't notice…"
Shawn shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not most people. What d'you want anyway? I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm eating these weird little things… you'd think they'd make bigger portions considering. I've eaten a platter of these pink things and I'm still hungry."
"Hors d'oeuvres."
"Bless you." Shawn shoved Tomato bruschetta into his mouth.
"I want to introduce you to some people."
"I ain't meeting anyone. You made it perfectly clear I'm not supposed to talk to people." Shawn said through a mouthful of tomato and toast. Paul noted he had also specifically asked Shawn not to talk with his mouth full. The larger man sighed, crossed his arms over his torso and said,
"I'm sorry. Please will you come and say hello to these people? It's important to me."
"You're not in the least bit sorry!" Shawn snapped.
"But it is really important to me. Please Shawn… I'll make it up to you."
"I don't want anything."
"Stop being stubborn."
"I'm not being stubborn."
"Shawn…"
Shawn popped another small savoury snack into his mouth and chewed in obvious annoyance. Paul looked back at the small group of people he had left. They had to be wondering what was taking so long. Paul bounced on his heels impatiently, anxiety running through him. After a split second of thinking, Paul whispered.
"I love you"
Shawn frowned, his cheeks were hallowed with food like a chipmunk. Paul did his best puppy dog eyes and soon enough, Shawn's eyes softened. Inside of him, the battle between his pride and his affection going at it like they were in a ring. Shawn swallowed the snack in his mouth.
"Fine…
With an overwhelming sense of victory, Paul wasted no time when he took the plate of food from Shawn's hand and put it back on the buffet table. He grabbed Shawn by the cuff of his jacket and dragged him back to where the group of people were. Shawn frowned, anybody would think he had no sense of the direction with the amount of times Paul had pulled, dragged and pushed him around.
They stopped suddenly and Shawn found him face to face with the couple. Shawn may not have been the tallest guy on the roster but he was no short-ass. In fact, he was a little taller than the man who stood directly in front of him with the greying hair. So… why did it feel like the guy was looking down on him?
"This is my partner, Michael. He's the Hall of Famer I told you about." Paul chimed. The couple looked over Shawn like some kind of exhibit and nodded their heads.
"So you no longer wrestle?" the woman asked.
Shawn blinked. "Er… no. I don't wrestle anymore…"
"So what do you do for fun?" she asked.
Shawn rubbed the back of his head. "I have a farm, well I guess you could say a ranch. I do things on it… like I grow food and look after the animals. I hunt on the weekends or I go on big trips around the country or to Africa for big game. I like Nascar..?"
"So you're a country bumpkin?" The woman asked with a smile.
"I guess you could call me that."
"Yeehaa," The greying haired man said aloofly. Shawn frowned. "Do you sell your produce?"
"Produce?" Shawn asked absentmindedly.
"You just said you grow vegetables and look after animals. A farm suggests you produce vast amounts of produce and a ranch connotes you rear cattle. So, have you established a small enterprise to keep you busy during your early retirement?"
The words were topsy-turvy when they entered one ear and into Shawn's brain. He had heard the man but he had no idea as to what he had actually said. Shawn scratched the back of his head and looked at Paul for guidance. Paul stared back. He made no indication or attempt to clarify the question. Shawn bit his teeth together; he felt stupid.
"I eh… I just pick the vegetables and cook them? Sometimes I give them to my folks… I have pigs. They eat the leftovers."
The man frowned. "So you do all this hard work for nothing? You don't make any kind of profit?"
"I don't need to make profit… I've got money."
"But how much? Have ever considered investing?"
"Well I bought a new roof for the barn. It was-"
"I meant investments!" The man snapped. "The stock market. Trade capital. What do you do with your money?"
Shawn felt uncomfortable under the numerous pairs of eyes. "I put it in the bank until I need some…"
The man looked ready to have a heart attack or rip his heart out of his chest and beat Shawn over the head with it. Paul, who had been listening to the conversation, knew he would have to put his ten cents in.
"We do have investments. We own quite a few shares in the Western Union." Paul said. The man seemed to perk up whereas Shawn looked even more confused.
"What the hell is the Western Union?" Shawn demanded.
Paul looked to the ceiling and prayed for God to help him. "It's a service we've invested in. Since we've invested, our stocks have gone up. They're worth more money."
"My money?" Shawn asked.
"Our money." Paul reminded him through gritted teeth.
"No. When we set up a joint account we agreed it was our money and we had to talk to each other before we did anything with it. What the hell is Western Union? When I wanted a new roof for the barn, I had to talk to you about it! Now suddenly I hear you're putting our money into a black hole?!"
"Black hole? Shawn, I just finished by saying our shares have gone up. We've made a profit."
"Good. I want the money in the bank account where I can see it and I know where it is," Shawn snapped.
"What?! Shawn, I've read the business plan and I believe the shares can go even higher. It'd be stupid to sell them when they're only a dollar more than what we paid for them…"
"I don't give a damn about 'shares' or any old stupid business plan. You never told me and I want you to sell your things and put our money back in our account." Shawn shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched. "Gambling is a sin. It may not be a roulette wheel but you're just as likely to walk away with less than what you want to the table with."
The grey haired man let out a short, hard laugh. "Jesus Christ, get into the twenty-first century. You'd be an idiot if you sold them shares after the business strategy Western Union published."
"The stock market is not the same as gambling, Shawn..." Paul said with a sigh. "We would be idiots if we sold the shares."
"But you just said they made money? Why would we be idiots? We'd be idiots if we left them in there and then they suddenly dropped and became useless. I may not be a business man but I know you buy low and sell high," Shawn huffed. "Sell them or I withdraw the money and transfer it into my own account. At least I can be trusted."
Paul's jaw dropped. His husband was daring and unreasonable enough to do it too. "Okay, I'm sorry, I should have told you but I knew you'd get moral and tell me it was a bad idea. I'm sorry. I'll sell the stocks tomorrow morning and transfer the money back into the account."
The grey haired man sneered. "Really? Just because some redneck told you 'it ain't verah smarht' despite the obvious profit gain, you're going to throw away a fantastic investment opportunity? Mr Levesque, I am genuinely shocked. Is this how you conduct business? Under the thumb of your farmer?"
"I don't talk like that you pompous ass," Retorted the incensed Shawn.
"How very witty," he sighed. "You must keep those pigs of yours at the edge of their sty all day."
"I've made my money and I bet I've made a damn sight more than you!" Shawn barked. The man smirked, Paul knew very well Shawn's bank account hardly dented the investors. "I choose not to gamble with it!"
"No. You choose to let it collect dust on a shelf in the same way you choose to let yourself grow dusty. I mean, really Michael…. Hall of Fame?" the man scoffed. "You're retired and have no other skills. As a result, you choose to roll around in mud like those animals you tend because you have nothing else to do."
Shawn's cheeks flushed crimson. "You don't know me! Who the hell do you think you are?!"
"You play the wife of the partnership between yourself and Mr Levesque. I imagine you perform most of the chores, am I right?" He smiled when Shawn said nothing. "You took his surname, you tidy up, you grow and then cook the dinners whilst he goes out to work and keeps the income coming in. I'm right aren't I? So why don't you learn your place and let your husband make his monetary decisions. You might even get a roof for the pig pen."
Paul stepped forward. "Okay, I'm sorry but you're crossing a line now."
"He even defends you," the man added before he chuckled cruelly.
Paul raised his finger and pointed it at the investor's face. "Back off. What Shawn decides to do with his money is his prerogative and the nature of our relationship is none of your concern."
The investor raised his hands in a mock defence like action. The smug grin he had worn during his tirade against Shawn was now directly in front of the Executive Vice President of Talent. Paul narrowed his eyes and glared daggers. The grey haired guy did not back down.
"You know as well as I do he's holding you back. I mean, because of that redneck of yours, I might consider selling my few shares of WWE and advising my partners and associates to do the same. After all, if you cannot control your husband, what chance do you have of controlling your talent and profit forecasts?"
The blood within Paul's veins reached boiling point. In that single moment he saw everything he had ever worked for crumble. He saw every achievement turn into debris at his feet. The gentleman who made the threats did hold shares and they weren't a mere few. His friends owned more. The whole evening he had planned, the evening he had wanted to be perfect, had been ruined. Ruined by the very person he had pleaded with not to ruin it.
He looked at Shawn. Shawn was as red faced as a cherry tomato and close to blowing his top. His hands had formed tight little fists that hung at his sides. Paul bit his bottom lip. He could see his lover's lazy eye wobbling about in there like it usually did when he was extremely upset or angry. He could make out the ever so slightly quivering lip. Shawn was an emotional person whether it was with violence or tears – he made an impact. Paul was about to do something now that would change an aspect of his life forever. He took a deep breath and said,
"To be honest sir, I think you can shove your investment right up your ass and tell your rich friends to do the same. Where do you get off? Do you feel big picking on him? Because he doesn't have the air and graces? Because he doesn't understand the complexity of money? Because he enjoys the simple run of the mill things like farming? Because he speaks with a strong accent and so fucking what if he thinks a goddamn barn roof is more important than a money transfer company?!
Who the hell are you to talk to him as if he is any less of a man than you or me? You arrogant sonofabitch, if I knew you wouldn't cry for your mother I would smack you right in your well-to-do face. Fuck you and fuck your investment. Nobody speaks to him or me like that. Ever!"
The room had suddenly gone quiet except for the monotonous playing of the band. The investor's mouth hung open and his eyes flashed with dread. The woman he stood with looked embarrassed as she stepped behind her man when copious eyes in the room turned to stare. Paul stood up straight and coughed into his hand lightly. He had not realised how much his voice had rose.
Vince McMahon appeared amongst the voices that stared. He was about to call something out to his boss but his attention wandered when Shawn took his hand. His partner gave it a tight squeeze and gestured to the double doors where they had come in. Paul maintained eye contact with his boss for a second before he turned around and followed Shawn out of the main hall.
The taxi stopped thirty feet in front of them outside the Grand hotel. It had been Paul's idea to call it despite Shawn offering to book a room inside the complex The Texan had argued but Paul was having none of it. His mind had made up. He had ripped the tie from his neck and shoved it into his pocket. The shirt had been buttoned down enough to expose a large area of hairy chest. He had even unbuttoned his sports jacket.
Not much had passed between the two men when they waited for the taxi. Paul had been uncharacteristically quiet and Shawn had remained wooden and transfixed on the concrete below his feet. The taxi's horn brought them both back to reality. It was small, basic and white in colour. A ford, an older one. Paul looked at the vehicle and said,
"Shawn, I'm sorry for being such a dick today. I just wanted to fit in and make a good impression with them."
"I know… I guess I could have been more supportive but I hated the guy I saw you becoming. It wasn't you."
"Is that why you tried to spoil my evening?" Shawn opened his mouth but Paul cut him off. "I know you pretended to forget where the cufflinks and iron were this morning. I also know you purposely forgot the bowtie. I'm not stupid, Shawn."
Shawn shrugged. "I guess I wanted to re-introduce you to reality? I guess I was just angry at you… you tried so hard to become this aristocrat and insisted I be in on it."
"I just wanted to make an impression. It was one night."
"But you've made me feel like crap all week. All week you've told me I'm disgusting, I'm crude and stupid. Yeah! You defended me in there to that guy but you were like him all week. But y'know what hurt the most, Paul? You changed your last name for the benefit of those assholes because you were ashamed to be called a 'Hickenbottom'."
Paul furrowed his brow "I was not and I'm still not ashamed. It was just shorter to call us both Levesque on the booking form. I didn't think it would upset you."
"Well it did and I know deep down you didn't want to introduce yourself as something so 'hick'."
Paul rubbed his temples and sighed. "I'm sorry but it's that big a deal considering I might walk into work tomorrow and be handed a brown box full of my things."
Shawn bit his bottom lip and returned his eyes to the floor. He had forgotten about that. The taxi driver leaned out of the window, papped his horn and waved furiously at the two to get in. They both entered the taxi at opposite sides.
"I'm sorry… not only have I ruined your evening but I've probably ruined your career too." Shawn muttered pitifully.
"I wasn't going to let him talk to you like that… I just wish you'd have played along." Paul said with a sigh.
"You knew I wasn't going to fit in there, Paul. I wish you'd have taken that into consideration."
The two were quiet as the taxi pulled away from the kerb. Paul's gut feeling told him he knew Shawn was right but then his mind told him Shawn was wrong. Whatever the case, the butterfly feeling in Paul's stomach was not going to go away until he had spoken to Vince. He felt his eyes sting and a lump in the back of his throat. He sniffed up. It caught Shawn's attention.
"Paul…?" He asked softly. "Would you like me to call Vince?"
The lump suddenly got bigger and the stinging in his eyes got worse. He felt the tears burning away at his tear ducts and the snot thickening in the back of each nostril. He sat up straight and dug his hands into the cushioned seats. Shawn unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted into the middle seat. Paul moved his head away and looked out of the window.
"I can call him and explain what happened. He'll understand."
"I don't need you to fight my battles." Paul managed to croak out.
"I'm asking you to tag me in."
"It's my job, I'll call him…"
"Paul-"
"I said I'd call him! For god's sake just get the hint and stop it!" The tears rolled down his face. Shawn touched the side of Paul's face. He felt the slight spasms of his partner's muscles in his face and the dampness of his tears. It was rare for Paul to cry and it made Shawn want to.
"I love you..." Shawn said delicately. "Come here…"
Shawn wanted to open his arms and take Paul into his arms but the bigger man just sat there rigid. He stared out of the window, his attention doing its upmost best to focus on anything except Shawn. The Taxi Driver seemed none the wiser so Shawn snaked his arm around Paul's body and tried to turn him around to face him. Paul stayed firm, pushing against Shawn's attempt.
"When I'm sad you make me feel better. Why won't you let me try…?" Shawn asked.
Paul said nothing. Shawn allowed his arm go slack over Paul's shoulder who shrugged it off and then wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. Eventually, Paul turned back around to face the seat in front. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen whilst his nose was the colour of Rudolph's. Shawn sighed, his spouse could beyond stubborn at times.
"He ain't looking. I know you're not above and beyond hugging."
"I'm alright. I don't want a hug."
"But I think you need one."
"A hug?" Paul's eyebrow raised. "I need a hug? I need you to stop talking so I can think for a second."
Shawn scowled. "You're upset and I want to make you feel better."
"A hug does not magically take away all your bad feelings, Shawn! You hugging me is not going to take away the nagging doubt that I might be unemployed in the morning for either putting, or assisting, the company's financial ruin."
"How do you know unless you try? I feel better after a hug."
"Because you're into that kind of stuff," Paul snapped. His patience had gotten as thin as a piece of string. "You like cuddling and kissing and meaningless words."
"Oh! You mean… I like affection?!" Shawn gasped in mock horror. Paul could have throttled Shawn then and there if not for the taxi driver upfront. His eyes tightened into little slits and his nostril twitched. Shawn could see the frustration on his partner's face but he would be damned if he backed down now. Instead, Shawn opened his arms.
The back of the car was tight and Shawn had not given him much space since he had moved into the middle seat. Paul knew Shawn would not drop the subject anytime soon and Paul risked turning into the sardine if he remained confined to this small space. Begrudgingly, Paul ducked into Shawn's arms and his partner closed his hold around him.
Paul was uncomfortable, hot and tightly packed against a HBK, the roof of the car and the side door. To the best of his abilities Paul had managed to wrap his own arms around Shawn. Thye sat there. Shawn's chin on his shoulder and Paul's face against Shawn's chest.
From his position, Paul could feel the gentle beating of his lover's heart beneath his torso. It beat perfectly in a seamless rhythm almost one second apart from each thump. Mixed with that was Shawn's breathing. Like his chest it had its own pattern. A gentle intake of breath and then a small exhale through his nose. They blended almost musically making Paul wonder why he had never heard the precision before. They cuddled almost daily but Paul could not recall the last time he actually rested his head on Shawn's chest, if he ever had.
He felt himself sigh with relief. The twang of Shawn's aftershave was so familiar and warm. When Shawn was around, Paul often got a whiff of the fragrance when he had first put it on but overtime the smell got familiar and disappeared completely. But then and there, the smell was vibrant and fresh. Like it had never left him but had just been hidden all this time. Beyond his control, Paul found himself to be snuggled deeper into the familiar scent. The smell of neroli mixed with the faint pinch of cigarette smoke. The smell of comfort and security; the smell he craved when he travelled far away and called his husband on the phone. Paul felt his eyes sting again.
Paul closed his eyes and focused on each aspect of his spouse. The smell, the sound and the feeling his lover created. It all felt so real and Paul felt like the luckiest man in the world to have someone like Shawn in his life. He felt Shawn shift which made Paul hold on even tighter. He felt long familiar fingers cup the back of his head.
Shawn's chest juddered suddenly and a large exhale of breath came out of his nose and brushed against the back of Paul's neck. The small noise he produced had sounded like a small laugh.
"Not so bad is it…?" Shawn whispered.
Paul did not say a word. He didn't dare in case the only noise he produced was a sob. Instead, he sat there encumbered in his lover's arms allowing his tears to fall freely down his face.
Paul had not stopped staring at his phone from the minute they had got in to the second they got into bed. He felt strangely patient yet anxious. He knew at some point Vince would either call him or text one and he was anxious to read it. On the other hand, he was willing to wait just so he could claim he was still the Executive Vice President of Talent.
Paul moaned and sat back against the headboard. It was past two in the morning. Paul in no way expected Vince McMahon to be an insomniac but something told him the old guy was lying in his own bed thinking of a way to tackle this newfound issue. Paul winced in shame when he remembered all the eyes that had turned on them. What was he thinking when he lost his temper like that? He knew what he thinking and it scared him to think that if could replay the scene; he would have done the exact same thing.
He felt the bed shift underneath him. His eyes darted to Shawn who was still fast asleep and had turned over. After they had got out of the taxi, Shawn had tried to talk sweet but Paul gave him the cold shoulder. The hug had been nice but anything beyond that was too much. He knew the shit he was in and he did not need Shawn whispering sweet nothings into his ear. They hadn't even made love that night which was unusual. He had not asked, Shawn had not asked and neither had offered. It hadn't even come naturally.
Paul tapped his smartphone and the screen lit up. He still had no messages. Paul cursed before he threw the phone down the bed so it landed with a soft, safe landing on the sheets. The time of night meant nothing to Paul; he was awake and deep down he was convinced Vince was too. Paul snatched the remote from his bedside table and flipped on the news, turning the volume down low for the sake of Shawn.
He turned to the news and watched the middle-aged presenter read from his I-Pad. Poor guy; Paul thought, what were the odds that the old guy actually wanted these hours? He watched for a few minutes before he switched it off. None of it had gone in. His phone pinged.
Like a flash, Paul literally dived down the bed and snatched his phone up. Shawn grunted, his eyes snapped open and his head popped up from the pillow. The phone lit up in Paul's hands. He had an email.
"Wha? Someone at the door…?" Shawn grumbled.
"No. Go back to sleep." Paul replied nonchalantly with a wave of his hand whilst his other tapped the email app on his phone. Paul's eyes dropped; it was a voucher to save money on a spa treatment he would never go to. Paul sighed and sat back on his knees. This was getting ridiculous.
"You joining me..?" Shawn muttered sleepily as he lowered himself back into the pillow.
Paul shook his head. "No. You go ahead. You get cranky if you don't get eight hours."
Paul resumed his original position against the headboard and stretched over the covers. Shawn had already cuddled back up in his duvet and had begun to snore softly. Paul tapped his phone again. He couldn't take it any longer. He opened a new message.
Vince, am I fired? Pls respond ASAP. Paul.
Sent.
If he was fired then he could go to sleep and if he wasn't, he'd sleep a whole lot better. His mind buzzed and boggled from left to right. He was not like Shawn. Shawn could explode and then return to his normal carefree self. Paul, he dwelled on things. Nothing kept Shawn up at night. He even slept well after he had told his mother he would be marrying a woman! Paul found himself smiling; Shawn was such a jokester whether it was intentional or most of the time unintentional.
The phone pinged. Paul opened the message.
Paul, I'm not happy. He deserved it but you can't do things like that. You're not fired but don't let it happen again. Vince. Ps – I can finally sleep now. Just make sure Michaels wears a tie next time
Respite. Relief. Liberation. It all came out with a hefty sigh as his shoulders loosened. Paul threw the phone at the bottom bed again before he slid fully down the bed. Tears prickled his eyes. He kicked the covers open and rolled in next to Shawn who shifted with a small grunt.
He inched closer to Shawn's back and turned him over so Shawn laid on his back. Shawn's eyes fluttered open and he squinted up at the ceiling. He moaned, sleep muddling his mind in a similar way fear had muddled Paul's. Paul planted a quick peck against Shawn's lips.
"I'm not fired."
"You're not fired?" Shawn repeated.
"No. I'm in trouble but I'm not fired."
Shawn grinned. "Great… chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast then."
Paul nestled into the covers and rested his head against Shawn's chest. Common as muck maybe but he wouldn't change him. At least not until Vince's next investment event anyway.