Three – One Step Closer
Over the years, Antonio had become adept at sleeping anywhere. He had his preferences for places to sleep, but in a pinch he could catch rest in nearly any situation. If the right amount of quiet was reached, he could close his eyes and seize the proverbial forty winks. Or more, if the occasion allowed.
He found an opportunity to get a quick nap in before the chaos of Raw. Backstage, just beyond catering, was a little room being used for storage. It was relatively quiet all around, with most talent either eating a late lunch, filming promos, or prepping themselves for meet-and-greets. There were forty minutes before he had to be anywhere, so Antonio slipped into the room, left the door ajar, and breathed a small sigh of relief.
He had just leaned back against stacked boxes of paper napkins when the door slammed open. Cursing because he was startled, he lurched, nearly toppling the boxes. He caught himself and, after steadying the boxes behind him, glared at the intruder.
Seth didn't seem to care that he'd almost created a mess. "What did you say that chick's name was? Elaine, right?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, Antonio nodded. He didn't like his friend referring to her as 'that chick' but the man was notoriously bad at names. The fact he remembered Elaine was a miracle in itself. "Yes."
"I'm guessing you still haven't found her."
To be honest, he hadn't really looked. If asked he could provide a million excuses – work, gym, constant travel. None of them would hold up under questioning, though, and he prayed Seth wouldn't interrogate. He loathed the idea of admitting that he wasn't looking because he was afraid of what he would find. She might have a husband. Children. She might be notorious in her area for sleeping with any man that looked her way. Over the past ten days he had created an idealized image of her. It would be best if she stayed that way, wouldn't it?
"I didn't know where to begin," he hedged, growing wary when Seth began to grin. "Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?"
"You so fucking owe me. I deserve a lifetime of paybacks for this. I'm talking major—"
"Why do I owe you anything?"
Surprisingly, Seth handed over a newspaper. Usually there was always an elaborate story. After all, life was never simple when it came to the current champion. This time, though, he made no opening statement, instead leaning against the boxes that had come close to falling to the floor. "Check that out."
It was one of the national papers. Technically, it was just a section of the paper. Antonio bought it occasionally so he was familiar with the name. Glancing at the date, he saw it was a couple days old. "What, exactly, am I checking out?"
"Just give it a good look. I'll wait." Seth was still grinning.
Using a nearby box as a table, Antonio opened the section fully, staring at the page for a long moment. A book ad at the bottom. An article on new TV series that showed promise. A bar of celebrity gossip. Shooting his friend a look of disdain, he turned the page.
"Keep going." The man's voice was practically sing-song now. "Page four."
Antonio turned the page again, breath leaving him in a rush. "It's her."
"Damn right it's her," Seth whispered. "Elaine Price. Now look at the little box under her picture."
He did so, though he was almost itching to read the article. It took up most of the page, and had a couple more pictures. But all thoughts of the article left him as he stared at the list of dates.
"God bless the editor for letting her appearance schedule stay in, huh?" Seth's grin had gotten wider. "So you know where she'll be. And when. So you can show up like Lancelot and shatter her mirror or what-the-fuck-ever. It's fate. Sweep her off her feet, carry her off into the sunset, then make a castle full of beautiful kids."
Antonio snorted and pulled his gaze from the paper. "What?"
"I was forced to watch princess movies with Roman's kid last night," Seth muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.
"That's sweet. I didn't know you liked princess movies."
"I don't." It was half-growl, half-grumble, and Seth's face was twisted into a look of pure disgust. "But that's not the point. C'mon, you'll be in the same city as her twice next week. And thanks to this you know where she's going to be. All you have to do is sweet-talk the higher-ups so they send you out for media on those days."
"I'm not sure—"
"Hell, if nothing else, at least now you can email her. You need to give her that pin thing, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"I'll do some sweet-talking too. I got a favor or two owed to me. This is worth it." Seth stepped away from the box he was leaning against.
"Why?"
"Dude, you've been mooning over this woman for almost two weeks. Hopefully this will help. It better help," he amended.
That was a fear, too. What if they met again and it only strengthened his thoughts of her? Perhaps the fear was ridiculous, but it stayed in the back of his mind. Along with the worry that she wouldn't be interested in seeing him again. After all, she had left.
The pin, though, she would want the pin. He thought of it, tucked securely in his suitcase. It was no doubt some family heirloom; it was certainly well-loved. Had it not been for the loose clasp that he'd discovered, the pin would no doubt still be attached to her hideous sweater.
"Tony?"
Antonio snatched up the paper and folded it for easy reading. "Call in your favors, Seth. I apparently have some stalking to plan."
Seth's face split into a wide grin. "I have never seen you so hung up on a chick. What's so different about this one?"
He paused, eyes on the black and white photo of Elaine. Something, he thought, was missing. The photo was rather bland, like so many author photos on the backs of so many books. "I don't know," he finally answered. Meeting his friend's questioning gaze, he smiled. "When I figure it out, I'll tell you."
Kim was efficient. Annoyingly so, Elaine thought as they entered the large building that housed the television station. The recent graduate had been up before dawn, making coffee and typing away on her laptop. Elaine had stayed in bed as long as she could, but the smell of coffee had lured her into consciousness. She had barely taken two sips when Kim had launched into her schedule for the day while selecting two possible outfits for the interview, her phone in hand the entire time so she could text.
Elaine shivered, longing for her sweater, which Kim had snatched off her and crammed into her voluminous bag for safekeeping. It wasn't good enough for Kim, though, not even to wear to the station. She had an image to uphold, and that image had no room for comfort. It apparently didn't matter that less than five people saw them on their way to the station.
Two young women were waiting just inside, both with clipboards and cell phones in hand.
"Ms. Price?" The one on the left stepped forward, smiling.
"Yes."
"I'm Amber, and I'll be making sure you get to where you need to go this morning." She motioned to the elevator across the way. "This way, please."
"I'll see you in a bit, Amb. Hopefully this wrestler guy gets here soon. Isn't he on right after her?"
"Ms. Price is at seven fifteen, then the weather. Then the wrestler," Amber called over her shoulder. "Kate, if he's not here in five, call their PR."
Elaine found Amber to be just as annoyingly efficient as Kim, if not more so. Before she could come up with a comment on the weather she was on the elevator and the young woman was rattling off instructions about the interview. How long she would have, cues to keep an eye out for in case they had to cut her off early. She hoped Kim caught it all because it was mind-boggling that anyone could be so wide-awake and capable so early in the morning.
She was led around the set, where the anchors were chatting while commercials were aired. Amber pointed out a small corner where two high stools were set up, telling her that was where her interview would take place. Spying the camera, Elaine felt the first bubbles of anxiety begin to twist in her chest.
She was introduced to a handful of people while on her way to get her makeup done, and was rather tickled when one of the interns sheepishly asked if she could sign the copies she had of Elaine's books. Thinking of the books in Kim's bag, which the station had requested for a giveaway, she wondered if anyone but the intern would be interested.
Two weeks on bestseller lists and she still had trouble believing people read her stories. She wondered if the novelty would wear off. She wondered if she would grow jaded or ever get annoyed when someone asked her to sign a book or wanted to talk about a particular character.
Glancing to the blushing intern holding well-loved copies of her books, she decided she never would get over the wonder of meeting someone who appreciated her work.
"The wrestling guy's here. Where do you want him?"
"Put him in the green room." Amber was holding Elaine's hair up for the makeup artist.
"Will do as soon as Kate brings him back from getting coffee. Wait 'til you meet him, Amber. He's dreamy."
"Yeah?" Amber grinned.
"European. I swear to God he looks like he just stepped out of some menswear catalogue. And he's such a gentleman. I thought he was going to kiss my hand when he was introduced."
Elaine could see the woman in the mirror and bit back a grin when she practically swooned in the doorway. Then, thinking of another dreamy, gentlemanly European, she felt herself grow warm. He had kissed her hand. Of course, she'd been naked at the time. And he'd been helping her off her knees…
"Lord, honey, is it too hot in here?" the makeup artist asked, makeup brush hovering over Elaine's cheek.
"Nerves," she murmured, clearing her throat.
"Ooh, Amber, here he comes," the woman in the doorway called softly.
Elaine looked on through the mirror as Amber, efficient and crisp, nearly bolted across to get a look at the dreamy wrestler. While the artist concealed her dark circles and put some color on her lips, she heard the two women at the door discuss how well-cut the man's slacks and shirt were. Apparently the man was an Adonis. Uninterested, Elaine dropped her gaze and began signing the intern's books.
Then, as soon as the excitement had happened, it was over and annoyingly efficient Amber returned with the announcement that Elaine had ten minutes before going on.
Sharpie in hand, she accidentally drew a line under her signature. Surely not so soon? She inwardly fretted, scribbling her name quickly in each of the books. Kim handed over a few bookmarks, which Elaine tucked into the topmost book before handing them over to the intern with a smile.
"Done," the makeup artist announced, giving the loose topknot she'd created a gentle pat.
Elaine slipped from the chair and, suddenly chilled, took advantage of Kim being distracted by her phone. The comfort of her grandmother's sweater within her reach, she pulled it from Kim's bag and slipped it on. Just as she was fastening the last big brown button Amber approached.
"I'm going to take you to meet Amy, who'll be talking with you, and we'll get you micced up."
Have you seen her yet?
She's coming on after commercial. You still haven't seen her?
No. Antonio tapped out the succinct answer and sent it to Seth, who had been messaging him what felt like every five seconds. The man was anxious for updates. As though he expected some fairytale-like meeting that segued to riding off into the sunset.
He'd barely had time to breathe since getting up for his rounds of media. Two radio interviews, one phone-in interview, and a delayed appearance at another station later, he was looking forward to getting to the arena and having some downtime. Even now, alone in the greenroom – which wasn't green; it was gray – he was being kept busy. After getting coffee with the perky young woman that had met him in the lobby, he had been handed a stack of promotional photos to sign.
The door opened and the young woman from earlier – Kate – stepped in, clutching a pile of books. "They'll be ready for you in makeup in just a couple minutes," she announced, tossing several books onto the small table near the door. Before he could reply she was gone.
His phone buzzed next to the stack of finished photos. Antonio ignored it, looking instead to the TV on the opposite wall. An ad for a local restaurant was on.
Liz, whom he'd jokingly referred to as his handler for the day, rose from her seat and turned down the TV. She was a no-nonsense woman of ambiguous age, and the reason he had been running late. And even though he was practically certain he was older than her, she had the ability of making him feel like a small child.
Despite this, he cleared his throat and requested she leave the volume up. He was finished signing, and was standing up before she could thrust more busywork at him. Grabbing his phone and coffee, he walked the length of the narrow room, nonchalantly picking up one of the books that Kate had dumped on the table.
Lady Maybe. The title was in a simple script, placed over a background that depicted a large manor house tucked amid rolling hills. There was a couple in the forefront. Unlike what he had expected, there was no passionate embrace. It looked nothing like the romance novels his mother read so voraciously. Gaze dipping, he saw a notation beneath the title: The 4th installment in the fascinating Montgomery family! Then her name, just a bit larger than the title, followed by a line touting her as the award winning author of Pennwood Park.
He had just opened the cover when the anchor's voice broke the silence in the room. Antonio held onto the book while the man onscreen told of a local woman making waves. The camera cut to her and he smiled. She looked nervous. Whether it was the lighting or makeup, or perhaps the ghastly sweater, she also looked pale. He barely heard the woman sitting with her speak, focusing instead on a slight fray in the sweater.
The pin weighed heavily in his pocket.
Sipping his coffee, he moved closer to the TV, noting out the corner of his eye that Liz was watching as well.
"Why romance? Personally, I'm a glutton when it comes to a good romance, but it does seem that the recent trends are going in other directions. So, why romance?"
There was a slight shift in her expression. "The simple answer is: happy endings. They're all I can do. I know that a writer can get more respect, at least in the writing world, when you don't have a happy ending. But I look at my books as a little escape from what can be a depressing real world. And romance is a great escape. I read a lot, too, and I like to be reminded that good things can happen. I suppose readers of romance – not just historical, but all romance – agree with me in a way, because the industry is always booming."
"As a writer of romance, do you worry that one day it won't thrive?"
"Not at all. Trends come and go, but romance has remained for centuries now. And I enjoy the trends, too. As much as I love a good romance, I still adore all genres. I think the focus should be more on keeping people reading, as opposed to quibbling over whether they're reading romance or mystery or whatever."
Watching her, he was reminded of their chat in the hotel bar. She truly transformed when discussing her craft. The paleness was gone, replaced by a glow that almost took his breath away. The nervousness that he'd seen earlier had melted away. He felt a little proud of her, for now she was smiling and chatting with the woman as though they were old friends.
"Time for makeup," Kate announced without preamble from the doorway.
Without thinking, he slipped the book into the pocket of his jacket and followed her from the room. Surely they had a monitor for him to watch the rest of the interview. Then he would do his own, and catch up with Elaine.