Chapter XI: Making It Worse
Orianne always had a set procedure for arriving at the arena. She rode to the venue with her fellow photographers as they usually arrived later than the wrestlers. Their staff passes and identification were verified by security and then they stopped at the central hub of operations to sign in. At that point, they received all the information they needed in regards to the matches and went over the schedule with Quinn. If it was a Monday, their presence was required earlier and they attended the informational meeting for all wrestlers and select staff. Then, they were free until time for the show to begin. Usually, Orianne would find the women's lockerroom to store her cases and personal belongings.
This Saturday, however, the photographer was carrying a vase of two dozen red roses that were presented to her at central. She hadn't checked the card yet but her smile gave it away to anybody who could see her face for the flowers. Even Randy Orton's glare in her direction didn't dampen her spirits. She basked in the admirers who said anything about the beautiful roses despite the fact that she didn't like receiving flowers. It was a waste of money to her as they would die in a few days. Still, she wouldn't lie and say she wasn't touched by the gesture or proud of the fact that Dave was intentionally showing his love for her to staff and wrestlers. There was something in everyone giving Dave props for having the vase delivered and how much he obviously cared for her.
The divas gathered around the second she managed to get in the dressing room with no arms and without damaging the roses. She heard Melina crack a comment about Dave going to score tonight but Orianne already knew that was a given. She snatched the card out of the bouquet before any of the girls could get it. Whatever he had to say was private and between the two of them.
When they had all cooed over the flowers and began to drift off, the photographer pulled the card out of the small envelope. She had to quickly turn around before anyone saw her face fall. The roses weren't from Dave; they were from Sloan. She didn't want to read what he had written but her eyes followed the words. He loved her and hoped she enjoyed the small token of that. He wanted to give her so much more if only she would come back home. He could never begin to say how sorry he was and would give everything in his power to show her.
Orianne crushed the card in her fist and then smoothed it back out to rip it to shreds. Picking up her cell phone, she strode out of the room before anyone said anything else and then dropped the pieces of paper in the nearest garbage can. She lied to Quinn, saying she left her purse in the car, and asked for the keys to get in. Slamming the door to the vehicle closed, she dialed Sloan's number.
"That was one fine display of affection," she angrily stated when he answered the phone.
"I meant it as an apology and a gesture of love," he honestly replied.
"It was humiliating. Everyone thought they were from Dave."
"And you told them differently?"
"Do you think I'm crazy?" she scoffed. "Listen to me. Don't you dare ever send me anything to one of the arenas again. You got that?"
"Yeah," he replied in a defeated tone. "I'm sorry, Ori."
"You are only making this harder on yourself. Call me when you've signed the papers." She had no more words for him. Actually, she did but she couldn't say them for the anger clouding her mind. They would come out a jumbled disaster and she would only get more frustrated.
She sat in the car for a few more minutes to give herself some time to cool off before going back in. Hopefully, the red in her cheeks and neck would dissipate to the point where no one would notice. The arenas were so cold that she always carried a jacket. So, she hitched the collar higher and slipped out of the car to head back inside. Upon her entering the dressing room, Lita announced, "Dave's looking for you."
Orianne nodded her thanks and stepped out to see Dave heading back that way. "I sent you flowers?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
She glanced around but there was no one within earshot. Still, she whispered, "Sloan sent them and I didn't look at the card. I thought they were from you."
"I take it you called him," Dave stated, putting a warm hand to her pink neck.
"Yeah and I told him exactly what I thought."
"Don't let him get you upset," he said, leaning in to softly kiss her. "Think about how we're going to be flying into Stamford Tuesday morning and, then by Wednesday, you'll be all moved in with me."
Her eyes closed with the thought as he inched closer to where there was no more space between their bodies. "All better," she replied with soft smile.
"I'll see you after the show," he said and barely brushed her lips with his. She had to hold back the shiver that coursed throughout her body as he stepped away.
"Would you mind pretending that the flowers are from you if anybody says anything?" He paused for a moment and then nodded. "I think I'm going to give them to the girls. I'll tell them that I can't carry the bouquet on the plane and you said you didn't mind."
Orianne pushed the lockerroom door open with a sigh and checked her watch to see how much time she had—just enough to get rid of the flowers. With a half dozen left, she carried them to the ring under her jacket and gave them to Cedarius, telling him that he should just pretend that he picked them up for Cara, no questions asked. "What would it hurt?" she asked and he shrugged his shoulders and took them from her. Orianne smiled as she watched Cara's face light up when her fiancé presented her with the bouquet. Within seconds, the tech was descending on the black-haired woman to show her what Cedarius had gotten her.
The next week was so busy that Dave regretted the idea of having a cook-out with his family to welcome Orianne to DC. The two had barely made it in before dark on Wednesday night and they dropped into bed. True to her word, Orianne had packed up most of her belongings last week. Everything she had brought to Stamford initially fit in the Metro. Given the size of the Escape and the cargo hold on the top, they fit everything in, including what she had acquired in the past year. Because the apartment had been furnished, it was mostly her clothing, photography equipment, DVDs, and random odds and ends. Derek met them at the townhouse and helped carry everything in. Orianne had them pile it all in the guest bedroom and she would sort it out another time. Only her cameras had to be safely put away before she could sleep.
"How did the pictures turn out with the new camera?" Dave asked, massaging her shoulders as she arranged the shelved storage bin.
"I'm not happy with them for the ridiculous amount of money I spent on the camera. Practically wiped out almost three weeks worth of salary." Dave kept his comments to himself, already unsuccessfully having tried to buy the camera for her. "I don't quite have the hang of the software and Cedarius had to walk me through it over the phone. I want to say it'll come as I get used to it but maybe I want it to fail because I hate it." She closed the bin doors and refrained from locking them—it wasn't like she was in some apartment complex with a thousand people she didn't know. Since Dave had bought the townhouse, she had slowly gotten to know their neighbors and she was on a first name basis with half of the street. No one here cared about her divorce or whether or not she and Dave had an affair. They hardly cared that Dave was a wrestler for WWE.
As much as Dave wanted to make love to Orianne on her first "official" night at her new address, he was exhausted and could see with the way she walked what a number the past few days had done on her leg.
Nothing stopped him the next night. The day had been long and once the food had been grilled, the two of them had been able to finally relax. His family acted as if they knew nothing of the affair around Orianne. Only his sister bothered to voice her opinion but only to him.
Dana, who had grown up as the perfect child, said the same thing their mother had after cornering Dave in a closet. "We told you," she hissed.
"It's in the past," he angrily whispered. "Let—it—go."
"I can't believe you would do this to our family."
"Well, yeah, I did, now didn't I? It can't be changed and we're hurting no one," he replied, glaring down at her.
Dana was never intimidated by his size and she thrust her chin out. "If she hurts you because any of this isn't settled, I swear to God—"
"You swear what?" Dave seethed, grabbing her by the arm and drawing her close. "You hurt her, you hurt me." He immediately released her and stormed out of the closet.
Derek just laughed, thinking with his other brain. He swore he wouldn't have laughed about the affair itself but that it was too humorous to know Dave had been banging the photographer chick all along, even at Christmas, and Derek hadn't figured it out. Reading people was something that he prided himself upon.
There was something about being in the presence of others that heightened their desire to be with one another. When Dave and Orianne were hiding the affair, it was like foreplay, thinking about what they would do once in the secret confines of the hotel room. Now, it seemed that the little touches between them were little reminders of that passion they shared.
As soon as the Batista family had left, the two couldn't move fast enough as Dave chased Orianne up the stairs. He caught her at the top step, searing her with a kiss. They peeled off each other's clothing as they went, working their way down the hall and into the bedroom. She honestly thought that if he stopped in the hallway to take her, it wouldn't be soon enough.
Tripping over his shorts that she had previously tossed, not knowing that they were in the way, Dave scooped her up and strode for the bed, tossing her into the center. She giggled as she hit it with a bounce but his predatory smile froze her in place as she rose to her knees. He pushed her hair over her shoulders and branded her lips with his mouth, his hands starting at her shoulders and running down her arms, hips, and thighs. Orianne leaned into him, her fingers seeking the hot flesh of his broad chest.
Trailing kisses along her collarbone and shoulder, Dave edged around her to situate himself behind her. She could feel his hard length pressing into her lower back and she reached behind her to grip his thighs, feeling his muscles grow taut as he inched her to the foot of the sleigh bed. Her body fit perfectly over the curved wood and he lifted her hips to meet his and entered her from behind, one hand splayed across her stomach and the other hand seeking her sensitive nub within her folds. She let out a low moan, leaning backward into him, and her sweaty palms trying to find a hold on the slick footboard. His thrusts were so fervent that, at his mercy, she could only curl her fingers underneath the curve and clench her muscles around him. He groaned in her ear and gripped her tighter, driving hard into her. She could only whimper his name in an effort to plead for release from the sweet torture. The intense heat building up in her core exploded and she limply sagged against Dave as he momentarily followed. They fell back on the bed, their rough breathing beginning to slow.
Right before Dave finally fell asleep with his naked body curled around hers, he fully didn't expect to wake up again until in the morning from the pure sexual satiation and exhaustion. So, he was surprised to find himself suddenly jerking awake to an empty bed at three in the morning. He could see the soft glow of the lights on downstairs and guessed that was where Orianne was at. Slipping on a pair of shorts, he quietly made his way down in case she had fallen asleep on the couch or something to that effect. But at the bottom of the stairs, he could hear her softly curse, then something metal hit the floor, and the water faucet begin running. Dave hurried into the kitchen to see her holding a finger to her mouth and wet paper towels stained pink in other hand.
"What are you doing?" he softly asked, removing the finger from her mouth to inspect it.
"I couldn't sleep."
"You should have gotten me up. We'd done something together or I'd find a way to wear you out," he responded, no insinuation in his tone, as he took her hand to look over the minor cut.
"I didn't want to bother you."
"You should when something is bothering you. What is it?" Dave asked but she shrugged and withdrew her hand from his to dry her finger and look for the band-aids that she now kept in her supplies for working on the frame. "My family?"
"No, mine. They aren't exactly going to be as accepting as yours. Well, everybody will be but my mom."
"That doesn't matter to me," he replied, picking up one leg of the frame that she had already completed. "If it bothered me what people thought about me, I wouldn't be in wrestling."
"I'm going to tell them soon," she stated, settling at the table and packing up her tools and the pieces of the frame. No one else knew besides Olivia and Sloan, who hadn't said a word about her confession to him…or else her family was pretending that they didn't know. She kept that to herself, wanting to ease her family into the divorce and her new relationship. Since Sloan wasn't being so cooperative, she had to tell them eventually but just didn't want to hear what her mother had to say. "Everyone's in Texas for rodeo competition for the rest of this week and the next. Even Mom and Dad went this time."
"And when are you telling Sloan you've moved in?" he asked, handing the side of the frame that he had been inspecting to her to put away.
"I'll call him next week."
Dave nodded and then said, "So where do you want to hang that when you're done?"
"I have to decide what goes in it first."
"I can see why you decided to restore it. I'm impressed with the work."
"I can't believe it stayed in our attic for so long and no one took care of it," she replied, caressing one of the corner flowers. "It deserves to be taken out, admired, and loved. Let me wash my hands and I'll come back to bed."
Working on the frame had been successful in tiring her mind until they started talking about what had been bothering her in the first place. Despite the fact that her back rested on Dave's broad chest and his arm was draped over her waist, she still couldn't fall asleep. She wasn't doubting or regretting her decisions. Her only regret was that her marriage couldn't have ended before she met Dave.
After the flowers last weekend and moving in with Dave, she was going to have to call Sloan. Putting it off any longer was going to drive her to drink. It wasn't worth the stress to do it during the weekend but Friday afternoon found her on her cellphone, doing her best not to pop a vein in her forehead.
In the past, Dave made a point to arrive at the hotel before her to check in to his room. She would then call him and come directly to the room, never checking in to hers. Because wrestlers had a tendency to stay with local friends on a whim or not even check into their own rooms, the company wasn't charged for unused rooms and no one reported which of those they were. Orianne let her own room go, hardly worried about getting in trouble. Since they were both coming out of DC together, they were on the same flight and rode together to the hotel.
The concierge asked for Orianne's name, assuming that she was listed on the room as well. "I have a package for you," the man said and disappeared into the office to come back with huge bouquet of red tulips, which were several months out of season. With a glance towards Dave, she knew that he had not sent them.
"Thank you," she muttered and wrapped an arm around the vase. Dave said nothing as they headed to the elevator but she could see his jaw clenching. "Hold them for me, please," she asked once in the car and then plucked the card from the flowers, glancing over it—they were definitely from Sloan.
In the hotel room, she situated the vase on the bureau and immediately whipped out her cellphone. "I thought I made myself clear," Orianne seethed as soon as he answered the phone.
"You said to not send them to the arena," Sloan honestly replied.
"Why would I want them sent to the hotel when I expressly didn't want them sent to arena? You are making this worse," she bit out.
"Ori, I won't stop showing that I love you in the little ways that I can," he softly said to counter her tone.
"You are only making me angry. You have to stop this."
"Come back home," he pleased.
"Not on your life. Sloan, I moved in with Dave this past week. I am home." She could hear his distressed sigh and her breath caught in her throat. She still loved him enough for him not to want to be hurt any more than necessary but he was doing this to himself. "Just," she sighed, "just sign the papers and let's get on with our lives."
"I don't want to get on with my life."
"Do whatever you want but let me get on with mine," she ground out, clapped the phone shut, and threw it at the bed. "He's driving me crazy," she shouted.
Dave had made himself scarce, choosing to stay in the bathroom and listen to her end of the conversation. "Let it go," he comforted, pulling her in for a hug and running a soothing hand down her temple. "He's not worth it. You want me to go beat him up?"
Orianne knew he was joking and couldn't help but chuckle. "It would be interesting to see the two of you in a fight—the soldier versus the wrestler."
"Are you doubting your man?"
"No," she coolly smiled, "just musing."
"How 'bout the wrestler," he began and then picked her up and tossed her on the bed, "versus the photographer in a tickling match?"
"Don't, don't, don't," she screamed, twisting around under him. Forget Chinese water torture, the Iron Maiden, the Rack, she would give it all up if someone tickled her.
"Alright," he said with a pout, satisfied that he had turned her mood around. His, however, hadn't changed. He was seething inside, pissed at Sloan for a thousand reasons. The man lost his wife and he needed to realize that. If Dave could, he would threaten Sloan to make him sign the papers and stop dragging her along. This shit with the flowers needed to stop because it was making her angry and stressing her out. But if he said one word to Sloan and it got back to Orianne, he would be in the doghouse. He'd hold back for a while and see if he got the message from this last "conversation." What exactly he would do, he had no idea. He may have outweighed Sloan by ninety or a hundred pounds but her hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband was probably trained to kill a man just as many ways with his bare hands. Hell, he could probably do it with his ankles alone.
TBC…
