I disclaim again. I only own Charlie and those unknown.

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Chapter Eleven – Atlanta to St Louis

As Charlie showered she thought about the gala the night before and how much fun she had. John and Maria were hilarious, not only as a couple but singularly as well. Her thoughts drifted to her once again being called out on her finances and she shook her head. Why doesn't anyone understand the word anonymity? Anonymous – unnamed; whose name is not known or given. Unidentified. Secret. Preventing identification.

Flashback:

She made Randy and John get out their checkbooks and donate to the restoration of the zoo's African exhibit. As the speeches were being delivered, an unknown man approached Charlie and she gave him an envelope. They whispered to eachother and he heard her say something about anonymous. He tried grilling her about it, but she just shushed him.

After the speeches and dinner, they mingled around the ballroom meeting celebrities and fans, a lot of them they'd seen the previous evening. A small group of people descended on Charlie thanking her profusely for her extremely generous donation and gushed about everything they could now do to better the lives of the animals. She tried to excuse herself to keep them from talking any more, but they wouldn't let her. So much for anonymous donations.

"How much money do you think she actually makes, shithead?" John asked Randy as they watched an obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable Charlie.

"Do you really want to know?" Maria asked wiggling her eyebrows. Both men looked at her to continue. "In my research, and remember this info isn't a guarantee, but her first book sales netted her over 250. Her signing bonus, just the signing bonus, at the tender age of 17, was 150. Her contract is for 10 books in 15 years. Each book nets her more money and a bigger percentage of the profits. Each book gets an advance and that advance is based on sales of the previous book. By the age of 20 she had probably netted 750."

As Randy and John processed this they looked at Maria stunned. Was she stalking Charlie? Who in the hell researches an author to these depths? Maria continued, "Say she's netted 750 for each book, and that's lowballing it, that's 8 or 9 books and an advance for each book. Her final book states in the contract every penny the book makes goes directly to her." She has an insane amount of money, Randy thought, and probably invests it all. Finally someone who's not riding his coattails or asking for handouts.

"She's nowhere near JK Rowling or Stephen King, but she's on the right path and closing fast. Doing the math on that, she's already written the 10th book under that contract. She's at least, the very least worth 100 million." Maria said quietly, but they all knew your net worth was different from what you had in the bank. Nonetheless she was a multimillionaire to his tiny salary. All she did was sit in front of a computer and she made millions. He's on the road 300 days a year and gets the shit beat out of him 3-4 days a week. What the fuck?

Using his best HHH impression, "I've got two words for ya…" John joked with Randy who was still shocked. "Prenuptial agreement mother fucker."

"That's four words dumbfuck." Randy responded. Who would have thought writing a book, okay 10 books, could make someone that much money. No wonder she wants to be anonymous. A single girl, millions of dollars, it was asking for trouble and danger. He wasn't sure what to think or feel. He certainly wasn't mad that she kept it a secret, but he felt differently towards her. How could he go back to the way they were before he knew?

Randy walked off and acted interested in the surroundings. He loved Charlie for Charlie, but this was huge. How do you hit the drive-thru at McDonald's knowing your girlfriend could own it? How is anything he planned for her ever going to be good enough? Sure Randy made a very good living, but his yearly salary only equaled an advance on one of her books. At 26 he was making more money than he thought a wrestler could make, he thought he was considered successful for his age group. And it was pretty good considering nobody really made any money in this business until the late 90s, but at the rate he was going with his career he'd be out of a job soon and then what? Mooch from her? That's exactly what he didn't want her to think.

"You okay?" Charlie walked up behind him and rubbed his back with her fingertips. He slowly turned and looked at her face stroking her cheeks. "Tell me what you're thinking." Randy couldn't look into her eyes and all he could manage was a small smile. He hugged her and played with her hair. Charlie instantly knew what it was.

"It's the money isn't it?" She pulled back from him. "My bank account bothers you." She put her hands on her hips and she was misinterpreting his feelings. "Great. Now do you see why I keep things a secret?" Charlie started to walk off but he grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not going to lie to you, but it's not what you think." He took a deep breath, "The money bothers me. I have no idea how much you have, can't even comprehend the dollar amount, nor do I want to know because it'll make it worse." He pulled her to him and held her tight. He could tell her anything, she always understood him and made him feel better but that was about him. Now the subject of his emotion was her. "How can I live up to what you make? How can I buy you something knowing you could buy 15 more? How can I express how much I feel for you knowing you could buy out Vince McMahon?"

Charlie laughed, "I don't have that much money." She smiled at him and knew what he meant. "I don't care if you buy me a necklace from a flea market or lunch at Wendy's from the dollar menu. Money is irrelevant to me. Shit Randy, I live above the bar and I do that because nobody knows who I am. I don't want the huge house with three maids and 10 foot gates. I don't want to live in a home with a security system that rivals Fort Knox. It's like being held prisoner in your own home."

She kissed him tenderly and held his eyes with hers. "I write stories because it's what I love to do. I was never interested in how much money I could make, damn Randy, I was surprised anyone bought my books. I write because that's my passion. Creating something inside my own head and seeing it on paper is a thrill. Seeing it in a bookstore is phenomenal, but I don't care if one person reads it or one million." She kissed him again.

"If you buy me something it's the point that you thought of me. Dollar value isn't important, the meaning behind it is. Remember before you left you stopped at the deli down the street and bought us lunch before coming to see me?" She smiled at him and he nodded. "I loved that because you did that from your heart. You knew I'd never stop to eat on my own so you brought me lunch. You know I love deli pickles so you gave me yours. I hate to sound cliché, but it's the thought behind the actions that counts."

Randy hugged her as tight as he could without crushing her. "I love you." He whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, baby boy. Just be who you are, who I know you are." She kissed him with all the emotion she could parlay and kissed him the way that drove him insane. Her tongue danced along his lips as if she were licking her favorite flavor from him. She ran her tongue against his tasting the jack and coke he just had. He moaned as he tasted the kamikaze she just had.

Randy came into the bathroom yanking her from her thoughts. Damn, just when the flashback was getting good. "We need to get on the road, baby girl." He said as he peeked into the shower. He groaned when he saw her stretched back rinsing her hair. We need to leave, we need to leave, we need to leave he said to himself as he closed the shower curtain and thought of something, anything else. One more peek won't hurt, oh god help me. How can I keep my hands to myself? Look at that body. Charlie turned off the water and Randy handed her a towel quickly looking everywhere but at her. Little did he know she'd had that same conversation with herself when he was showering.

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Atlanta to St Louis was only 8-9 hours away, depending on how many stops someone made, so Randy decided to take the long way around; the long way being the wrong way. He needed to do some research and knew how much Charlie loved the old architecture and styles of the 1800s so he thought he'd take her to Charleston, South Carolina. They could spend a few days there and head back to St Louis. He also thought about surprising her with a trip down to Savannah.

John and Maria had the next few days off and Maria basically loved anything Charlie loved, she was like the little sister who wanted to do everything the big sister did. The concierge in Atlanta once again came through and contacted a hotel and made their reservations for everything. John and Randy were going to play golf and the girls would tour historic homes. They all piled into the Navigator and talked about the WWE. Charlie didn't know they were going the long way and Randy made John and Maria swear not to tell her.

As her three companions talked about work catching Randy up on all the gossip, Charlie's brain was in overdrive and she grabbed her laptop, typing away furiously trying to get her thoughts on the screen. Randy tried to peek a few times but she angled her body so nobody could see. During the trip Randy received a phone call and pulled into a gas station to talk to Vince McMahon. Charlie climbed into the third row to get privacy and a little silence. When he hung up he climbed in the back to talk to her.

"That was Vince. He wants me back next Monday, I'm moving to Raw. I won't be on the show but he wants me there to get back into the feel of the arenas. I know he's testing the air with the others, watching their reactions to me." He hung his head and she instantly stopped typing. Randy rubbed his eyes trying to process his near future.

"That's great, right? Moving back to Raw?" She looked at him concerned.

"It's great but a week early. He wants me in Stamford Thursday to go over the storyline ideas and discuss the therapy." He let his head rest on the back of the seat and he closed his eyes. Charlie closed her laptop and pulled him to lie down and put his head in her lap. She rubbed his head and ran her fingertips across his face; down his nose over his cheekbones, jawline, forehead. He loved when she did this and it always relaxed him every time. Randy looked up into her eyes and felt his heart breaking. He didn't want to leave her, how was he going to survive without her?

"Hey, we made it four weeks right? What's a few days each week?" She said smiling at him. How did she always know what he was thinking? Inside she was freaking out. Therapy was one thing, being back on the road was another issue altogether. She fought her insecurities hard and felt the tears stinging her eyes. Thousands of women throwing themselves at him, coworkers running around backstage with their fake boobs shoved into bras two sizes too small. How could she compete? How could she stay at the forefront of his mind? Charlie continued rubbing his head but inside all she could think was run, run fast and forget you ever knew him.