Chapter Nine

Violet had barely knocked on the door when it was flung open. Sasha, hair up in a messy bun and dressed in pajamas, grinned and nearly dragged her into the apartment. "You're here!"

"I'm here," Violet confirmed with a laugh, following the tug of Sasha's hand on her arm into the living room. Her initial thought was that the room looked exceedingly comfortable. The large sectional couch was dotted with throw pillows and draped with blankets. The walls were painted a soft yellow. There were fresh flowers, and art prints on the walls. The coffee table was covered with platters and bowls of snacks, and as Sasha motioned for her to get comfortable, Charlotte came out of the kitchen holding a bottle of wine. She, too, was wearing pajamas.

"Violet!" she enthused.

Not expecting the embrace, Violet grunted in surprise when the woman's arms wrapped around her in a brief hug.

"So glad you made it. Bayley's on her way. Nia's in the kitchen. Nia! Violet's here!" Charlotte lifted the bottle of wine. "What's your poison?"

"I think there's some beer in the fridge," Sasha put in. "And soda."

"I'll start with soda," Violet decided, waving to Nia, who leaned out of the kitchen doorway to greet her.

"Where the hell is Becky?" Nia called from the kitchen.

"She said she'd be a little late and to not drink all the wine before she gets here."

Violet headed into the kitchen and saw Nia was pouring liquor into a blender. "Mixed drinks?"

"Daiquiris." Nia indicated the bowl of strawberries on the counter.

Bayley arrived, and Violet smiled as the woman was greeted with exuberance. When she exited the kitchen, she saw that Bayley was in her pajamas as well.

"Is this a sleepover?" she asked Sasha while settling on the couch. For once, she felt overdressed. She had thought the denim capris and green tank top were a good choice.

"No, this is a to-hell-with-conventions-we're-going-to-be-comfy shindig," Sasha answered.

"And half of us end up sleeping over," Charlotte added, folding her long legs beneath her while taking one corner of the couch. "It's just easier this way."

"Do you live in Florida?" Bayley asked, taking a daiquiri from Nia and sitting on the floor.

"Miami," Violet told her. "I'm staying in Orlando while I do the documentary."

Sasha grabbed a remote and flopped next to Violet. She seemed to randomly choose a movie to play, and tossed the remote aside while accepting a glass of wine from Charlotte. Looking to Violet, she grinned. "It doesn't matter what we put on. Nobody pays attention to the movies. It's just background noise."

She could tell. Nia and Charlotte were already talking about some new beauty product. Bayley was looking over the snack choices, offering her opinion on the under-eye mask.

"Are you enjoying being on the road?" Sasha asked.

"It's great." Violet smiled and, unable to resist, leaned to help herself to a handful of potato chips. "I don't think I could do it for longer than a few weeks, though. My sleep schedule is beyond screwed up."

"Your body adjusts." Sasha took a sip of wine then pulled the bowl of Skittles into her lap. After picking out a handful of the red ones, she popped them into her mouth. "You learn to sleep when you can."

"Catnaps are the best," Charlotte put in, leaning to take the Skittles.

"That's one thing I'm not looking forward to." This from Nia. "I've gotten spoiled by being in my own bed every night."

"God, I miss my bed," Violet sighed.

"A queen?" Bayley guessed. "Pillow top?"

"How did you know?"

"She's weird," Sasha teased with a laugh. "She has this knack for guessing what kind of bed people sleep in."

"It's a talent," Bayley corrected. "Miss King-Sized Sleep Number."

"Girl, I like to stretch out and don't like being crowded when I'm not alone." Sasha rolled her eyes. "Can't stand having a man all over me when I'm trying to sleep."

"Really? I like being curled up against—" Violet cut off before she said the name, and quickly took a sip of her soda.

"Against who?" Charlotte asked sweetly.

"Um…" Violet felt her cheeks color as all four women shifted to regard her curiously.

"Oh come on, tell us," Sasha insisted. "There are no secrets here."

Violet was saved from speaking by a rhythmic knocking at the door. Bayley hopped up to go answer it, and a moment later Becky's accented voice was greeting them all. She, too, was in pajamas, and dropped her keys on the table near the window before flopping on the couch.

"You're just in time," Sasha told her. "Violet's going to tell us who she's been curling up in bed with."

"I was?" Violet squeaked.

"Yes," four voices chimed in unison.

Becky laughed. "Don't tell us yet, let me get my wine." She rolled off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Why is everyone so interested in who I'm curling up with?" Violet asked.

"We'll tell you ours," Nia offered with a grin.

"No one at the moment," Bayley announced. She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink.

"Seth." Sasha was smirking.

"Braun." Nia had a silly smile on her face as everyone looked to her. "What? I like big country boys."

"But he's so… Big," Charlotte said. "I'd be afraid he'd break me in two."

"He's trying, trust me," Nia sighed.

Violet joined in the laughter, jumping slightly when Becky dropped onto the couch again. Glancing at the Irish woman, she smiled. There was something so… Infectious about the group of women. There wasn't cattiness. They seemed to be a group of true friends, judging by how happy and relaxed they all seemed in each other's company.

"Who's sharing your bed nowadays, Becky?" Nia asked.

"Same man that's been sharing it for a year." She paused, focusing on pouring wine into her glass. "Dean."

"Your turn," Sasha informed, and Violet felt all the attention shift to her.

"Charlotte hasn't told us who she's sharing a bed with though." Violet prayed the woman would be secretive. And that the other women would turn their attention to her. But, to her irritation, Charlotte beamed.

"Tye," the blonde announced.

"Dillinger?" Violet asked, smiling when Charlotte nodded. "He's nice."

"Yes, he is," Charlotte. Propping her elbow on the back of the couch, she waved her hand in a circular motion. "Now spill."

"I…" What if Finn didn't want her talking about them being together? She had viewed his social media accounts enough times to know that he was beyond private about his life outside the ring. Would he want this group of women to know? As she pondered, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and instinctively leaned to retrieve it, getting a quick glance at the screen before Sasha snatched it away.

"No hiding on your phone," the woman said piously, even though Charlotte and Nia both had their phones out. "It doesn't matter that…" She looked at the screen, and her lips curved into a knowing smirk. Still holding Violet's phone, she grabbed hers off the table. Within seconds she had Instagram loaded. "Someone just posted about a fantastic talk he had about wrestling, Lego, superheroes, and giraffes with… Oh look, it's you."

Violet's jaw dropped. She forgot about her phone being taken away and leaned to look at the screen of Sasha's. Finn had posted a photo of them. Together. Her heart did a strange twirling in her chest. It was a picture Steve had taken after they'd finished another portion of the interview. How had he gotten it? she wondered, only able to smile as she took a closer look. His arm was around his shoulders. He was laughing, and she remembered the sound of his laughter when Steve had cracked a joke. Her glasses were a little askew, her hair was a mess, but she decided she liked the smile on her face. She couldn't remember smiling like that ever. Not until recently.

"I need details," Sasha murmured, handing Violet's phone over.

"We all do," Becky added, having scooted closer to see what the photo was.

"I want to see!" Bayley crawled over to the bag she'd dropped earlier and rummaged around for her phone.

"Really?" Charlotte asked, grinning as she looked at her phone. "You've been curling up with—"

"Don't spoil it!" Nia blurted, fingers swiping on the screen of her phone. "I want to – Oh my god, it's—"

"Finn!" Bayley shouted. "That's so great!"

Violet wondered what Finn would think if he glanced at his notifications and saw that all the women she was currently with had liked his photo at the same time. Because she could tell they were doing so. Sasha, it seemed, was even leaving a comment.

"Details," Becky insisted, expression brimming with excitement. "I had a feeling he was seeing someone. But you know Finn, he's not about to share private things unless you hold him down and threaten him."

"There aren't any details," Violet attempted, biting her lip when the statement was met with a round of scoffs. So she tried another tack. "Just because he posted a photo with me on Instagram doesn't mean—"

She faltered at the sight of five disbelieving expressions. The movie played on, but no one was paying any attention to it.

"He… I guess we're kind of together," she murmured. Unnerved by the way all five women lowered their phones and turned their full attention to her, she cleared her throat. "I mean, we haven't gone out on a date yet, but…"

"But you've slept with him," Sasha concluded.

"Uh, yeah—"

"It wasn't a one-night thing was it?" Bayley asked.

"No…" Thinking of the nearly ravenous appetite she and Finn seemed to have for each other, she felt her cheeks start to color. She shook her head, her mind replaying the events of the night before. When he'd texted that his bed felt empty. Then he'd shown up at her door. Not for sex, he'd promised between sweet kisses. But because he had needed to hold her. Of course, sex had happened. Languid but urgent, with him guiding her body into positions she wouldn't have thought possible. Without intending to she sighed.

"She's got it bad," Nia announced.

"But why hasn't he taken you on a date yet?" Becky asked amid the quick chorus of 'aww' that came from the other women.

"Well with the schedule, and everything… He actually asked me out last week but I took a rain check." She felt like she was babbling. Taking a sip of her soda, she helped herself to some more potato chips. "We're going out tomorrow."

"Where to?" Charlotte asked.

"I don't know. He said maybe dinner and a movie—"

"What are you going to wear?"

Violet paused at Sasha's question. "I… Don't know?" she offered meekly. "Jeans and a shirt, I guess?"

"No," Nia groaned with a shake of her head. "He's already seen you in that."

"But that's all I brought with me. And I don't have time to go shopping or to order something or… Why are you looking at me like that?" Bewildered, Violet froze, a potato chip halfway to her mouth.

Within minutes she was on her feet. Nia was looking her up and down, nodding to herself. Becky and Charlotte were critically examining her hair. Bayley and Sasha, she noticed, stayed where they were, looking on with knowing smiles.

"What are they doing to me?" Violet asked them, growing more confused when Nia said she would be back as soon as possible. Bayley offered to go with her, and seconds later she heard the apartment door close behind them.

"Nia's gone to get you something to wear tomorrow. She lives a couple blocks away, so she won't be gone long," Sasha explained with a wave of her hand. "And those two are figuring out how you should wear your hair."

"You're not going to start poking and prodding me, are you?"

Sasha's smile expanded into a grin. "No. Not until tomorrow when I do your makeup."


"Well, kid, how's it going?"

Finn chuckled. He had a feeling that Matt would be calling him 'kid' for the rest of his life. Hearing his friend sigh as he flopped onto the other couch, he lifted his head. "It's going great," he said honestly. "The fans are responding well, I haven't fucked up anything in a match, and there's been a spike in my merch sales."

A stuffed bear sailed through the air and hit the side of his head. Laughing as it dropped into his lap, he grabbed it and threw it back. "I know that shit already," Matt groaned. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Like what?" Finn settled more comfortably on the couch. Through the open door leading into the back yard, he could hear Matt's kids chattering and laughing as they played. Matt's wife, Farah, was in the kitchen cooking an early dinner. Finn, relaxed, enjoyed the peacefulness of the Bloom household. As he always did.

"How the guys are treating you, do you like the direction your feud is going, what do you think of the documentary," Matt rattled off, slinging the stuffed bear towards Finn again. "If you've met anyone. Stuff like that."

Finn grunted as the bear bounced off his head and landed behind the couch. "Well," he began, exhaling loudly. "The guys are the guys, you know. A few are great, some are good, some are asses. Like anywhere else."

Matt nodded.

"And I guess the feud's going good? I haven't gotten the feeling that it's gone stale just yet. Seth and I have been working together with the writers so the promos sound organic." Finn reached to idly scratch his chin.

"The documentary?" Matt prodded after a moment.

"I like the idea. The lady doing it knows her stuff. She asks deep questions that you can't just bullshit an answer to." Finn trained his gaze on the coffee table. A half-finished game of Monopoly was still in place. There was a copy of The Poky Little Puppy next to a selection of hair clips. His gaze naturally moved around the rest of the room. It was ever changing, evidence of new interests popping up every time he visited. And yet it remained the same. Comfortable. Lived-in. There was an underlying organization to the seeming chaos. He knew from experience that the entire Bloom family could find anything in a second. "I got to see some footage the photographer took. I get a good vibe about it."

"Yeah, I do too. I think it's going to turn out great. Miss Lovell does know her stuff. I think by now she could give a tour of the Performance Center," Matt chuckled.

Finn smiled. That didn't surprise him.

"And she's nice," Matt went on. "A lot of journalists, even hacks from sites you've never heard of, have an attitude when they come in for an interview. But she's got a little something to her."

"Yeah, she's passionate," Finn agreed with a nod. He leaned forward to get his cup of tea, thinking of just how passionate Violet was when he felt the ache in his back. Masking a hiss by pretending to take a sip of his drink, he was aware of Matt's gaze on him and knew he would have to answer the last bit of his friend's initial line of questioning. "And yeah, I've met someone. Lots of someones, actually—"

"Goddamnit, Finn." Another stuffed animal came flying toward him.

Laughing, he managed to duck it. "Fine, fine! I met someone."

"Where?"

"Er… Backstage."

"When?"

Finn rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if Matt's kids were ready to come inside. Surely it was time for them to do so? "The night of my debut…"

"Yeah?"

Blinking, he looked to Matt, and saw a grin on the man's face. He nodded, and realized that was the end of his questioning. Matt wasn't interested in who the someone was, or what their relationship was like. He just seemed happy to know Finn had, finally, met someone. With relief, he settled back, content with the knowledge that there would be no proverbial third degree. That was, until Matt leaned back to shout towards the kitchen.

"Hey, babe!" Matt paused to wait for his wife to reply. "Finn met someone!"

"You…" Finn inwardly cringed at Farah's sound of surprise, and heard her footsteps approaching. He saw Matt's grin widen to one of pure glee. "You bastard."


Violet was certain her entire body had been poked, prodded, clothed, unclothed, and looked at by the five women. There was no opportunity to be modest, considering she had become a life-sized Barbie doll, and so she gave up, staring at the ceiling while Sasha tugged on the dress they'd put her in. As soon as Sasha turned away, Nia was tugging it back up. And so it went, until she began to expect they would pose her body just as they wanted. The blue dress was taken away, replaced by a black sheath.

Oh, she liked this one, she decided, daring a glance at herself in the full-length mirror. Of all the tops and dresses that had been put on her, this showed the least amount of cleavage. It was simple, tucked in slightly at the waist, with just a little bit of a flare to the skirt, which ended just at her knees. It was also comfortable, something she had thought impossible when it came to dresses. Turning to catch would she could of the rear, she found herself smiling. She had barely opened her mouth to voice an opinion when the others began to talk rapidly.

They were like a group of crazed locusts, she thought, holding back a laugh as she was turned to and fro until they had seen her from all possible angles. "Guys," she finally gasped, ducking away. "I like this one."

"We do too," Nia said.

"It needs something, though." Charlotte looked Violet up and down. "Maybe a chunky necklace?"

"No… What about a shawl?"

Sasha's closet doors were flung open to find the perfect shawl. Violet took the opportunity to relax, and turned to Bayley. "Are they always like this?"

"You should have seen them when Becky first went out with Dean." Bayley grinned and reached to gently pull at the chain at Violet's neck. The locket was pulled free of the dress, and Bayley smiled. "That's pretty. Heirloom?"

"A gift from my best friend's dad when I turned sixteen. He gave one to each of us."

"It's perfect with the dress."

Violet didn't say that she would have fought Charlotte's idea of a chunky necklace if Nia hadn't. Not because she was against the idea, per se. She had nothing against chunky necklaces. It was just that Finn seemed to like the heart-shaped locket so much. Which was probably the stupidest reason to wear a necklace, she conceded, wrinkling her nose as Sasha approached with an armful of colorful shawls. But he did like it… At least, he seemed to. He was always touching it. Adjusting it when a kiss ended. Stroking it during sex. And after, she thought, remembering the feel of his fingers as she had fallen asleep the night before. So, stupid reason though it may be, she was going to keep wearing it.

A shawl was chosen – the perfect shade of red, and the perfect weight for a summer evening, according to Nia. She was helped out of the dress and allowed to put her own clothes back on while the dress and shawl were hung with care. Sasha promised to have it steamed and bring it with her the next afternoon. Violet helped them hang the unchosen dresses and tops back on their hangers, and was about to retreat to the living room when Charlotte released a gasp fit for a horror movie queen.

"What about shoes?!"

Oh, god. Sensing the wheels in their heads starting to spin wildly, she held up her hands. "I have sandals that will be just fine. I'm not wearing heels."

"But—"

"I'm doing good to balance this in flat shoes," Violet insisted, gesturing to her backside. "I'm not about to teeter around on a pair of toothpicks."

Questions were thrown at her as they returned to the living room. What did the sandals look like? What color? Were they old and worn? New? She answered them all, finally getting her phone to find a picture of the exact sandals. When they were finally alright with her choice, she settled on the couch with a sigh. She reached for her drink while Sasha started up another movie. But the movie was paused immediately, and the petite woman sat on the couch, facing Violet, expression one of expectance.

"Well?" Sasha asked after a moment.

"What?" Violet thought better of taking a sip and lowered the glass.

"What's Finn like in bed?"


"A thaisce," Finn greeted, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder. "I didn't expect to hear from you tonight. I thought you were gabbing your heart out?"

"I've gabbed until I can gab no more." Violet's dramatic sigh brought a smile to his lips.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, eyes on the pepper he was slicing.

"I really did. They're fun to hang out with. I just don't know that I could hang out with them all night long."

"Not into braiding hair and painting your nails, then?"

"The gabfest had no hair braiding or nail painting," she told him with a soft laugh.

"Then what did it have?"

"I refuse to divulge the secrets of a feminine gathering. After all, we have to hold some mystery."

Finn scoffed, tipping the cutting board so the peppers fell into the pan. He didn't want to know mysteries. He just wanted to know if the five women had questioned her as thoroughly as Matt's wife had questioned him. "I have a sister, you know. Not that much mystery left for me. Except why the hell you all have so many bobby pins."

She actually giggled. "Bobby pins? All the things there are to know about the opposite sex and you ask about bobby pins?"

"It's bothered me for ages," he explained. "And it seems to be all women, or at least all the women I've known. My sister was leaving them everywhere. And whenever my parents come for a visit, I find them in the bathroom. And my mother doesn't even wear her hair up."

"They're for more than holding up hair…"

"Such as?"

"I can say no more," she said in a dramatic whisper.

"Which means you don't know," he challenged. "I bet you all just carry them around and drop one or two here and there."

"You're just trying to trick me," she teased.

"Damn, you caught on?" Stirring the contents of the pan, he listened to her laugh. "What are you doing for dinner?"

"Ordering in, I suppose. All I've got at the room is cereal. I'm not really hungry. Sasha had enough food to feed an army."

"Ah, so the gabfest had food?"

"And wine. I swear I've never seen so much wine tossed back. And Nia was making – Stop trying to find out what happens at a women's get together."

Grinning, he turned off the burner and transferred the chicken and vegetable mix to the waiting plate. The sight of the food sparked his memory, and he cleared his throat. "I saw there's a Hitchcock film playing at the Rialto. Dial M something. Did you want to go see that?"

"Dial M for Murder?!"

Finn held the phone away from his ear, surprised by her squeal. When he decided it was safe, he brought the phone back. "I take it that's a yes?"

"God yes," she practically gushed. "I've wanted to see that on a big screen for years!"

Smiling, because had pored over the local movie listings all morning before finding that particular one, he picked up his plate and carried it to the table. "It starts at nine. I got dinner reservations for seven thirty. So I'll be by to get you at seven?"

"Reservations? Sounds fancy."

"If you'd rather—"

"I'll be ready at seven," she promised. "I'm really looking forward to it."

Finn smiled again. "So am I."