A/N: Thanks so much to everyone for reading and reviewing. It's much appreciated. This one is a ride. Strap in. (Mild warning for some dub-con-type stuff in the middle. Nothing graphic, but the situation is a little uncomfortable. So be warned.)
"New Tricks"
XII. Day Six
The day everything fell apart started just like the before had: with Roman quietly slipping out of bed to get himself ready for his meeting while Dean slept.
Like yesterday, Roman had some bleary, half-formed idea of maybe dragging Dean out of bed for some fun in the shower, but Dean looked too peaceful to disturb. Plus, with the prospect of another date - and maybe more beyond - on the horizon, the urgency just wasn't there.
He'd have time later today.
He'd make sure of it.
After he'd pulled on a suit and made himself presentable for his meeting, he padded over to where Dean lay in his ridiculous sprawl and brushed a kiss across his cheek.
"See ya later, babe," he murmured.
Dean hmmed and nuzzled deeper into his pillow.
A spring in his step, Roman made his way out of a bedroom that wasn't his, but that had somehow become just as comfortable over the course of the week. Even though he felt like a small pebble rattling inside a bucket in this enormous suite, the place was somewhere he'd come back to anytime.
Of course, the guy still sawing logs in the bedroom there probably had a lot to do with it.
He'd never felt that way when he'd brought Cody or anyone else here, and-
-wow, did that whole incident feel like it'd happened a lifetime ago.
It really did.
He paused beside the bar, shaking his head over that. He'd barely thought about Cody all week. Hell, he barely thought about Cody when they were dating - even during the first couple months.
Somehow he got the feeling he'd be thinking about Dean a lot.
He'd probably count down the damn days until they'd meet up again for a real date, he was looking forward to it that much. More time together. A chance to be around each other for real, no money between them and sex only happening when they both wanted to.
As he pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket, it hit him that there was so many places he wanted to take Dean. From New York to Las Vegas to Florida to England and Europe, he had a feeling he'd never be bored with Dean as a traveling companion. Or with Dean as a companion at home.
Or with Dean period.
Dean's troublemaker streak would keep things from getting boring, that was for damn sure, and Roman liked that a hell of a lot.
Calm down, he told himself, setting the fat white envelope - thing had fifty $100 bills in it - onto the bar. He pulled out his pen, wrote "Dean, this is yours. -R" on the front, and propped it up on a shot glass to make it more visible. It was a little ridiculous to already be thinking about a future when they hadn't even had an actual date yet, wasn't it?
Yeah, it was.
With that done, he slipped his pen back into his jacket, and headed out to get the hell on with this day.
Downstairs, the lobby was empty - even the desk - so he buzzed on through, and went straight to the valet area.
Enzo was out there bopping along to whatever he was listening to. He didn't do much more than pull open the door and wish Roman a good morning, and that was fine as far as Roman was concerned. Anything that meant he got to the Cesaros' faster was a-okay in his book.
Traffic cooperated, too. During the weekdays, he'd found it to be just a snarling mass of bumper-to-bumper traffic. It was nice not having to wade through all that to get where he was going. The less time he spent stuck, the happier tended to be when he made to his destination.
Funny how that worked.
His assistant Tom called him about ten minutes into the drive, and caught up on all the week's comings and goings at the office. Nothing all that interesting happened, and no fires that needed his immediate attention, so he told Tom to call it a weekend - go spend time with his new baby.
Tom sounded sound practically giddy at the prospect.
Roman was still smiling about that as he pulled into The Cesaro Group's parking lot. It was a ghost-town save for a few cars right out front, two of which recognized as Antonio's red Audi and Willard's black Lexus. The third, a decked out gray Escalade, he didn't recognize. He didn't see Seth's rental just yet, but he was earlier than usual.
He eased his Mercedes into the slot next to the Escalade, and as he did he spotted Antonio seated out on one of the concrete planters. From this distance, Roman couldn't tell what Antonio was doing, but it appeared he was either working on a tablet or talking to someone on the phone.
Guy looked swag as hell regardless in his gray suit.
Roman kind of envied that.
The instant he climbed out of his car and looked Antonio's way, Antonio waved and motioned him to come over. But he also put a finger to his lips right afterward, like don't say anything.
Curious, Roman crossed the sidewalk and cut through the grass. He understood Antonio's call to be quiet the closer he got to the planter: Antonio had his phone in his palm, on speaker. A man's voice drifted out of it:
"-what those people do, Antonio," Hunter Helmsley was saying as Roman paused beside the planter. Of course he was. Of course this couldn't be that easy. "I can get you actual contracts with the military. They can't. They don't know the people I know. Plus, I have it in good with Allied Health Groups. That's a huge hospital network. It's twice the size of theirs. We can reach twice as many places as they can. And if charity is what you're after, we can look at that, too. We can do everything they can for you and more besides. Let's set up a meeting."
Roman glared at the phone. It was all he could do not to slap it out of Antonio's hand.
Of course it couldn't be simple.
How in the hell had Hunter found out about that?
Antonio, meanwhile, glanced up at Roman and smiled. "Well, Mr. Helmsley, what I would like to know, honestly, is where exactly you came by the information we were planning to sell in the first place. Twice I've spoken to you now, and you've so far avoided answering me. That wasn't public knowledge. With all respect due, I can't say I'm comfortable entertaining the idea of doing business with someone if I don't know how exactly they do business."
"We have our sources," Hunter said, the frown in his voice coming through loud and clear. "That's all I can really tell you, but I assure you this is all above-board."
Still looking right up at Roman, Antonio said, "I doubt that very much. What do you think, Roman?"
"Oh, I really doubt it's above-board," Roman said with relish. Oh, how he wished they were on video conferencing so he could see Hunter's face right about now. "Hello, Hunter. Trying to steal another one of our sales, I see."
"Trying to keep the Cesaros from making a mistake," the over-inflated gasbag replied. "How the hell are ya?"
"I'm great, Hunter," Roman said. He sat down next to Antonio, setting his portfolio on the ground between his feet. "It's a nice day in California. It'd be nicer if you kept your giant schnoz out of my business, but what can you do?"
"It's a dog-eat-dog world, Roman," Hunter said. Roman could just picture Hunter strangling the phone. It was pretty great. "You can't blame me for wanting to stake my claim."
"I can when you're trying to stake a claim where you weren't invited," Roman said. "How did you find out about this, anyway? Who told you?"
"I'm afraid that's confidential information," Hunter said. "Sorry. Can't tell ya."
"In this case," Antonio cut in, "we'll pass. We've made up our minds to go with Reigns International. That's official as of this morning. I'm sure you have other things to do, Mr. Helmsley, so I'll say farewell and let you get back to them. No point in wasting anyone's time here any further."
"You're making a mistake," Hunter huffed, "but all right. When this all falls apart in a year, don't come crying to us."
"Have a nice day, Hunter," Roman said.
"We'll see you on the next sale, Roman," Hunter said. "I hear you were looking at a social media company out thataway. Pretty interesting stuff."
"If you say so," Roman said.
Antonio ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket, snorting. "I can't believe that guy. The first words out of my mouth were, 'We're going with Reigns International' and still he tries to sell me on his company. Persistent. Were you really looking at a social media company?"
Roman shook his head. "We were, but it's dead-end. If he wants to chase his tail on it, let him. But, yeah, that guy is really persistent."
"Who's persistent?" a new voice asked from the edge of the grass. Seth's. He stood in the shade of a tree in his usual black-on-black, his laptop case slung over his shoulder. Something else different about him, too, which was easy to spot because his hair was down for a change.
"You got rid of the blond," Roman said by way of greeting. "What's up with that?"
"I don't need it anymore," Seth said, smoothing his hair off of his shoulder. He didn't move any closer to join them. "I can get people's attention other ways. Who were you guys talking to?"
"Hunter," Roman said, rising. "Last-ditch effort to disrupt the sale."
"An unsuccessful on at that," Antonio put in. He sounded pleased with himself. "We've got Paul upstairs in the conference room ready to go over the letter of intent. I assume we'll have the actual contract ready for him to look over soon?"
Seth turned away just as his phone erupted. "Shit. I gotta get this. He'll have the contract tomorrow. I'll be right up."
"Excellent," Antonio said, standing himself and heading for the building. "Then let's head up, shall we? I've got plans for today, and I'd like to get to them as soon as possible."
"Ditto," Roman said. "I've got something I gotta do before I fly out."
"Something or someone?" Antonio asked, tipping Roman a wink.
"Not sure that's any of your business, Antonio," Roman muttered, his face warming.
"Probably not," Antonio said agreeably. They'd reached the door. Antonio typed a code into the keypad above the handle, and pulled it open. He flipped down the little doorstop to keep it propped open. Seth was hovering by a tree behind them, his phone wedged tightly to his ear. "Will you and Dean stay in touch after today? You seemed like you were enjoying yourselves yesterday."
"Oh yes," Roman said. "Yeah, we're planning to go out again as soon as we can."
Antonio smiled again and led the way to the elevator. "So you may have found more than a business connection on your trip, then. Good for you. That's nice, isn't it? I enjoyed meeting him. Hopefully, we'll have a chance to meet again."
"We'll see," Roman said, and left it at that.
He hoped so, too.
A couple minutes after Roman and Antonio joined Paul Heyman and Willard Cesaro around the conference table, bagels and coffee in hand, a frazzled-looking Seth bustled his way into the room. "Sorry," he muttered, not looking at anyone. "Had to take that call."
"Oh, no worries," Willard said from the head of the table. "We were just talking about the golf tournament yesterday. You had a very nice back nine."
Seth smiled distractedly and slid into the empty seat next to Paul Heyman. It put him directly across from Roman. "I blew it on the front nine, though. First time in five years I hit over an 80." He set his laptop case on the table in front of him and unzipped it. "Off day, I guess."
"That happens," the elder Cesaro said kindly. "There's coffee and bagels, if you'd like."
"I already ate, thanks." Seth caught Roman's eye. "Are we ready?"
Roman nodded. "If you are."
"Well," Willard said, "then I suppose there's not much left to do here but make this official. We've looked over your letter of intent, and, other than a few small amendments, we're ready to sign. Assuming, that is, you agree to the changes. They're minor. Wording. Paul?"
Heyman flipped open his portfolio with a flourish, extracted a small stack of paper, and set it in front of Seth. "Gentlemen, my clients propose the following changes to this letter of intent before we proceed…"
He sounded like a king about to make a proclamation. It was ridiculous.
The people he met along the way doing this job kept if from getting dull.
However, there were parts of the job Roman found incredibly boring.
This was one of them.
Watching two lawyers haggle over exact wording and the placement of periods and commas held about all the appeal of watching paint dry.
There were no major changes to the agreement as far as Roman could tell, so he wound up checking emails and text messages on his phone - need to get Dean's number - while Seth and Paul did their lawyer-thing, and while Antonio and his grandfather sat by talking about some family dinner they were planning for next month.
Paul did most of the talking about the letter, Roman noticed; Seth mostly just grunted affirmatives and typed. Seemed distracted, off his own head about something.
Roman made a mental note to ask him about it later.
After no more than half an hour, Paul straightened up in his chair and said, in his puffed-up and self-important way, "That's all the changes my clients here wanted. Nothing too outrageous. It looks fair. I think we're all safe to print and sign."
"We good, Seth?" Roman asked, glancing at Seth over the laptop's lid.
Seth gave a jerky little nod. "Fine. I'm printing it now."
It was surprising anticlimax, given how much of a pain in the ass this deal had been.
Not an unwelcome one, though. It sure as hell beat drama.
While the printer in the back corner worked away, Seth packed his laptop and caught Roman's eye. "Hey, can I talk to you real quick - in private?"
"Sure," Roman said. He pocketed his phone and rose. "Excuse us. We'll be right back."
Out in the empty hallway, Seth slung the strap from his laptop over his shoulder. "Roman, are you sure about this? It's gonna cost the company a lot of money if you go forward with it. It could be a disaster. As your attorney, I'm telling you I think it's a mistake. I told your dad that, too. I don't think this is the right move. My advice here is walk away from it. Let them be somebody else's headache. There'll be other sales."
Even though he'd lowered his voice, the determination came through in his tone. Roman frowned at that, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. "It would only be a disaster if we weren't as financially stable as we are, Seth. We can afford the risk. It'll be fine. Besides which, I just told Hunter Helmsley to stick it up his ass. We got this sale, and I'm keeping it. I appreciate the concern, but we'll be fine. What's with the worry?"
"Doing my job." Seth rubbed the back of his neck. "I wish you'd reconsider. It's a bad idea."
"How is it a bad idea? There's so much potential here. It'd be stupid to pass it up. Any money we lose we can write off. That's what the accountants are for. There's a hell of a lot more to gain than lose. We're fine here."
Seth shook his head. "I disagree, but I guess it's your hill to die on. I'm going back to my hotel. I don't feel too great right now. If you're sure about this, then you can sign the letter. It's airtight. You don't need me there. I'll go work on the contract."
"Yeah, you don't look all that hot," Roman said. Tired, mostly. Stressed out. Probably in need of a vacation - preferably one with Nikki so he wouldn't be tomcatting around. "I hope you're not coming down with something. Are you sure you're okay? You've been off this whole week."
"I'm fine," Seth said, waving him off. "I will be. Guess I'll see you, when, week after next in New York."
"Get some rest," Roman told him. "And relax. This is a good thing. One of the best things we've done. You'll see. Call me if you need anything. Or if you have any problems with the contract."
"Yeah," Seth muttered, turning away. "See ya."
Roman watched him go, still frowning away.
Something about it didn't sit right.
But the dots still didn't connect.
Ten minutes later, they did.
Oh, man, did they.
His father had the worst timing.
Back in the conference room, Roman made Seth's excuses, and sat down with the letter to give it one last careful once-over. The language was a lot simpler than the legalese that would be on the official contract, at least. That crap was like trying to wade through a swamp. This, at least, he could understand.
"Looks good to me," he said, once he'd finished up. He slid both pages over to Antonio. "Here. Give it one more pass - make sure everything's the way you want it."
A pair of bald heads bent over the stack, and Roman was struck with a momentary amusement at how similar they were from that angle, the older Cesaro and the younger. No question they were related.
After a few minutes, they passed the stack back to him, Antonio nodding. "We're good."
"Indeed," his grandfather agreed.
Roman pulled his pen out of his pocket and scribbled his name on the BUYER line, printed his name on the line below, and wrote the date under it. He set the pen on the paper and slid them back over. Like they were kids playing Hot Potato.
Antonio signed first, big and enthusiastic. Even his damn signature looked like it was smiling.
His grandfather's signature was more careful, the letter thin and spindly, but it was there.
Paul Heyman was the last to sign as the witness, his big, looping signature filling up almost the entire bottom third of the last page.
Done damn deal.
Roman just managed not to pump his fist in victory. That was the kind of thing that okay to do when he kicked Dean's ass at air hockey, but not exactly appropriate in a professional setting.
His phone rang just as Heyman was finishing up, and he tugged it out of his pocket, meaning to silence it. It was his dad, though, so he got up from the table with an apologetic, "Excuse me again. It's my dad. I'm gonna tell him the good news. I'll be back here shortly."
"Hi, Dad!" he said, ducking out into the hall again, and heading for the little alcove at the end. "Good morning. Hey, we got the deal done. We just now got signatures on the letter. We're ready to start moving on the final contract."
It sounded like there were people the room with his dad, a low murmur of voices in the background. "Good. So you did get it done. No problems, then? Anything I need to know about?"
"No changes to the terms of the deal, no." Roman looked out the windows, into a city that was clear and calm. "He was talking to them about military contracts. I don't know how the hell he found out about that-"
"I do," his dad cut him off. "Roman, is Seth there with you?"
"He just left to go back to his hotel. Said he wasn't feeling good. Why? What's going on?"
"He's the one who's been leaking information to Hunter."
Roman froze. "...what?"
"John Laurinaitis finally got back to me this morning." His father sounded grim. "The reason for the delay in getting to us was that they turned over some of Seth's emails to the SEC to investigate. Johnny didn't say much, but he told me it looks like Seth was part of something he wasn't supposed to be. But apart from that, this morning they also recovered an email that points to him being our leak."
"Dad…" Roman shook his head at his reflection. "It has to be a mistake. Seth wouldn't… He wouldn't." Would he? "He's been my friend since college. He wouldn't do that to me. You're wrong."
Seth was a lot of things, but a sell-out?
"No, I'm not," his dad said. There was the sound of a door closing somewhere, and the other voices that'd been talking in the background quieted. "Listen to me. They found an email he sent to somebody at Hunter's company last week. It had the Cesaros' details and our initial bid to them. One hundred percent, he's our leak. There is zero question about it."
"Jesus Christ." Roman covered his eyes, stunned, numb all over like he'd just been dumped into a bucket of anesthesia. This could not be happening. "Hunter knew about what we were planning with trying to get in with the military and our hospital network. He knew exactly what we were doing. I didn't tell anyone. Did you? Did you start making calls?"
"No, and no." There was a pause. "I wanted to be sure we had the paperwork signed first."
"Seth was there yesterday morning." The dots finally began connecting themselves. They'd been there all along, and he'd missed them. "He's been acting weird all week. Paranoid and jumpy. Distracted."
All the way across the country, his father sighed. "Guilty conscience. Didn't I tell you?"
"I thought it was because he was cheating on Nikki. I didn't see it."
"He's been cheating on everybody."
"How the hell did I miss this, Dad? He's been right under my nose the entire time, and the way he's been acting... I should have seen this. I've told him everything. And he just…?" Roman cleared his throat. "How did I miss it?"
"He was your friend, son," his dad said. "Your heart has always been a lot bigger than your head. He fooled everybody. That's the bottom line. He fooled all of us. He's been lying to all of us."
"You're sure," Roman pressed. God, if they were wrong about this, he'd lose Seth forever. This wasn't the kind of thing he'd be able to wave away with an apology. "You're absolutely one hundred percent convinced you're right? Not ninety-five or ninety-eight percent. One hundred percent. Because if there's any doubt, Dad-"
"There's none," his dad said over him. "I have an email he sent directly to someone at Hunter's company with relevant details about a pending sale. What does that tell you? I know he was your friend, but you need to put that aside. This is business. It can't be personal."
"...yeah." Roman stared out at the sky, took a breath, tried to ignore the way his insides felt crushed, compressed. The anger bubbling away under that. It can't be personal. He'd missed it. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do here. Do I go to his hotel and confront him, or…?"
"No, don't do that. Laurinaitis is going to call him and have him fly back to New York under the pretext of a new client wanting to meet with him personally Monday. They'll confront him with the evidence at that point, and he'll be fired. They'll have him turn in his laptop and his phone. The SEC will probably get a warrant for those if they proceed with an investigation. The thing we don't want to do right now is tip our hand that anything is wrong. So if you do see Seth before you go, do not tell him any of what I've just told you."
Roman glanced back around at the conference room. "What about the Cesaros? What do I tell them?"
"That Seth's been called away and we'll send his replacement to finish tying up the loose ends tomorrow. It'll be that Adrian kid. Adrian Neville. That's all you say."
"So I don't do anything at all. I don't get to…" Roman knocked a fist lightly against the glass. "I don't get to even ask him why the hell he did this?"
To me.
"Not now, no." There was a pause, followed by the sound of dad's chair squeaking. "I'm sure you'll have a chance, though, at some point. But if he's in as much trouble as I think he is, he's going to have bigger problems to worry about."
"Yeah, okay, I gotta go. I'll call you when I'm on my way to the airport." Roman ended the call right then and there, not giving a damn if he was being rude. He didn't want to hear about this anymore. Didn't want to talk about it. Didn't even want to think about it.
How his supposed best friend could stab him in the back like this...
His hand clenched around the phone again until his knuckles ached. His jaw ached. Everything ached.
He'd missed it.
In the conference room, Antonio swiveled in his chair to say something to him, but wound up raising eyebrows. "That's a serious face. Is everything all right?"
"Not exactly." Roman hooked a finger in his tie and tugged it loose, leaned against the table. All of a sudden, he felt ten years older. "Everything is fine with the deal here, but something's come up with Seth. He's gonna be flying back to New York to deal with some business there. We'll be sending a replacement - I think my father said it's Adrian Neville - out to you tomorrow."
"It's nothing bad, I hope?" Willard Cesaro said, gnarled hands folded together in front of him. "With Seth?"
"No," Roman said slowly. "Urgent, more than anything. Nobody's sick or injured or anything like that. It's business stuff that really can't wait. I'm sorry about that. Caught me by surprise, too." And then some. The asshole. "But that's all right. Adrian's a sharp kid. And you guys, you have our numbers. I'll be down in Florida with my dad - probably getting nagged to death - next week. So please, if you need anything, call me. I will be happy to help you. Is there anything else we need to do this morning? I really need to get going."
Get back to the hotel, decompress, lose himself in Dean for a while.
Wash the taste of Seth's backstabbing out of his mouth.
The Cesaros and Paul Heyman exchanged looks around the table, and wound up shaking their heads no.
Antonio got to his feet. "I think that's it."
"In that case," Roman said, offering Antonio a hand, "welcome aboard Reigns International. Congratulations."
It was probably the most bittersweet handshake of Roman's life.
Dean began his morning out the same way he had yesterday: an hour's run through that quiet park, followed by a long shower to scrub all the sweat and grass clippings away.
Instead of face-planting into bed afterward, though, he threw his last pair of clean jeans and his new Pantera tee shirt, and packed up the rest of his shit. The backpack and his new leather jacket he left in the bedroom since he'd need those later, but the rest he carried out into the living room and dumped with his boots.
Not that he was eager to leave today, but there was no point leaving his shit lying around everywhere. Plus, if he was all packed now, that meant he wouldn't have to waste time doing it later.
He wanted every second he could possibly have with Roman before their time was up today.
It was gonna be a long fucking few weeks before they got to see each other again.
After he got all packed, he stretched out on one of the living room couches to do some reading. All he ended up actually doing was putting the book aside and thinking about the way Roman had sunk down on him last night. Fuck, that's been great, the way that felt. Unexpected, too, because he was sure once Roman tied his hands, they'd have a repeat performance of the other night, but Roman had surprised him in the best way.
Maybe he'd be open to switching a little more often, if he'd enjoyed it.
Not today, though; today, Roman would absolutely want to top, and Dean was fine with that. One last round before they had to split for a while.
At dinner last night, he'd been skeptical about whether or not Roman would actually come back for a date, but today it felt like it was going to happen - for sure. It was like something changed between them while they were having sex last night, like all that uncertainty just fucking vanished into thin air.
This was actually going to be a thing.
Wrestling school. Maybe a job. A new place to live. And a date with Roman Reigns.
His future had gone from zero fucking amazing in a few days.
He probably should have known it wasn't gonna be that simple, though.
Never was.
Reality came a-calling in form of a firm knock at the door.
According to the wall clock near the bar, it was only nine-thirty. Seemed like it was too early for Roman to be back, and Roman wouldn't knock anyway.
Dean levered himself up off the couch, stretched, and ambled on over to the door.
Whoever was on the other side knocked again just as he reached it. He peered through the peephole, and scowled when he saw Seth standing on the other side.
Just what he fucking needed.
This asshole.
Wary, he pulled the door open, and gave said asshole a cautious once-over, noting that the blond streak was gone out of Seth's hair, and that Seth had a file folder tucked under one arm. Usual skinny black suit with a black shirt. No tie, though, and the shirt was open at the throat.
Dean stayed in the doorway, blocking Seth from entering. "What are you doing here?"
He thought Seth looked pretty rough, dark circles under his eyes and kind of a distracted air about him. It was just in the way Seth chewed his lip and glanced down the hallway before he finally bothered to make eye contact. "I have some papers to drop off for Roman."
"He's not here."
"Yeah, no shit," Seth said impatiently. He held up the file folder. "He's still with the Cesaros. He asked me to drop these off on my way to my hotel."
"Oh." Dean reached for the folder. "I can take that. I'll make sure he gets it."
"No." Seth pulled the folder back. In a weird way, he reminded Dean of that creepy Gollum dude from Lord of the Rings, the way he did it. My precious. "This is confidential. He told me to leave them for him in a specific place. Considering the leaks we've had lately, he doesn't want to take any chances. It'll just take a second."
That sounded like a lot of paranoid bullshit, but Dean stepped aside anyway. "Fine. Make it snappy."
Seth made his way into the suite and headed back to the master bedroom while Dean stood by the door and waited, tapping his foot.
True to his word, Seth reappeared after no more than thirty seconds, but, because Seth was a prick and things could never be fucking simple, he went to the refrigerator behind the bar and helped himself to a bottle of water. Then he made his way back around the bar, pulled out a stool, and helped himself to a seat.
Dean cleared his throat. "Thought you said it'll just take a second."
"Oh, I'm done putting Roman's papers away," Seth said, cracking the bottle open. "I didn't say I was gonna leave, though. In fact, hey, can we talk?"
"What about?"
"You can - here." Seth pushed out the stool next to his, patted it. "I don't really feel like yelling across the room. Besides that, I have something I want to show you. Several things, actually."
Before he returned to the bar, Dean stepped into his boots and tied them, deliberately taking his time. Mentally preparing himself for the bullshit that was sure to start flowing here. He didn't have to look at Seth to know the dude was watching him like a hawk.
Only when he felt ready did he straighten up and make his way over to the stool. Rather than sit, he hiked a booted foot up onto the bottom rung, and gave Seth a narrow look. "Whaddya want?"
"You naked on the bed back there," Seth said baldly. "And then you grabbing your shit and coming to my hotel with me for the rest of the day."
Dean scoffed. Ballsy. "Not fucking likely. You don't give up easy, do you?"
"Not when there's something I want." Seth lifted his water bottle to his mouth and took a sip, eyes never leaving Dean's. "I learned at a young age to just go after things. You don't get anywhere by pussyfooting around."
"It's still no," Dean shrugged. "You know. There's that. You can leave."
"Do you have any idea how easy it is to ruin somebody's reputation in this day and age? One bad Tweet, one scandalous picture, one news story about an executive trying to pass a prostitute off as a gym owner - man, that shit can wreck somebody so fast." Seth sipped his water again, and smiled this nasty little smile. "It doesn't even have to be completely true. Just a hint of scandal around someone means they'll never be clean in people's eyes again. And the damage that could do to somebody's reputation in the business world... I wouldn't want to be in their shoes."
All at once, Dean went still. "You should go."
"Oh no," Seth said. He looked like a cat staring down a mouse with a broken leg. "I'm not going anywhere. We will. Later. After you ride my dick for a while."
"Not happening." Dean shook his head. "'M not fuckin' doing that. And you should know I don't take kindly to threats, so shove 'em up your ass. Leave."
Still smiling that oh-so punchable smile, Seth freed his cell phone from his jacket's inside pocket and set it on the bar. A few taps and swipes later, he slid the thing over so Dean could see it.
On the screen was a picture from the golf course: Roman plastered all over Dean's back when he was trying to teach Dean to swing. It looked like Roman was kissing Dean's neck.
"What the fuck is this?" Dean demanded. "You took a picture of us?"
You creep fuck.
"Oh, I've got more," Seth said. "Keep looking."
There was at least half a dozen pictures from where Dean and Roman had been goofing around on the driving range. Also a couple from the course itself. There was one where Roman had slung a casual arm around Dean's shoulders. They were over by the trees laughing about something. It was actually a good picture, and the part of Dean that wasn't about to lose its shit couldn't help thinking that he and Roman actually looked pretty good together. Easy. Comfortable.
There were more pictures from around the golf course - not of them touching, but of them smiling at each other or near-touching when Roman put his golf clubs away. Standing close together while Antonio or Willard took their shots. One of them walking side-by-side into the trees to go look for Roman's ball.
Over a dozen in all.
"Why do you have those?" Dean asked again.
"Oh, I'm not done." Seth pulled the phone back over. "I also have this." He tapped and swiped his way across the screen until he had a player of some kind up. "Let me skip ahead here to the important part. Listen."
"-this guy is." Seth's voice drifted out of the phone's speaker, tinny and compressed. Impatient. A little muffled. There were other sounds in the background, like silverware clanking and the low murmur of voices. "It's not that I don't trust you, but I need to know who he's working for - for real. If he's not who he says he is, this could be trouble for us. So I'm going to dig, and-"
"Don't." Roman's voice now, quiet and firm. "Don't do that, Seth. He's - look, if I tell you something here, I need your word you won't tell anyone."
"You got it," Seth said. "So tell me."
"I got lost Monday night, and I ended up in this neighborhood where there were a lot of guys hanging around on the street. One of them happened to be Dean. I picked him up."
"You picked him up." There was a pause. "Off the street. Is he a hooker or something?"
"Keep your voice down," Roman said urgently "Yes, he is. You cannot tell anyone - least of all my dad."
"You hired a hooker? Jesus Christ, Roman."
"I know, but keep it down. Seriously. Yes, I did."
"You recorded that," Dean fumed. "What the fuck, Seth?"
"I also have a video of you two playing grab-ass in the parking lot at the golf course yesterday," Seth said, shutting his phone down and slipping it back into his pocket. "It was right before you were about to leave. Very cute. How do you like that?"
"I don't. Why the fuck would you do all that?" Dean was having trouble getting the words out. He backed away from the stool and hitched an arm up on the bar, glaring the whole way. "What is your fucking problem?"
"Mm." Seth picked up his water bottle again. "Everybody thinks Roman is so good. So untouchable. Perfect. He coasts by on his daddy's name and his family's connections. Always has. Me, I've had to bust my ass to earn everything. I put myself through college on scholarships and hard work. But the work I do putting all these deals together, do you think I get credit for it? No. I don't. I never do. I'm the invisible man."
"Poor baby," Dean said without an iota of sympathy. A light bulb switched on in his head just then. "So you're the one selling him out, then? To that Hunter guy. It's you, isn't it? Crybaby not gettin' enough credit, so you do him dirty behind his back? That it?"
The water bottle crinkled when Seth's hand tightened around it, the sound sharp in the tense silence. "No."
"Bullshit." Dean wished like hell he'd gotten Roman's phone number yesterday. "Whinin' about not gettin' credit. Creepin' in here behind his back with those pictures." How in the fuck is this my life right now? "Oh, Roman's gonna fuckin' love this."
"He's not gonna know," Seth said, eyes narrowing, "because we'll be gone before you can tell him."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Dean, Dean, Dean, you're not understanding the situation here." Seth slid off the stool, smoothed down his jacket. "Here's what's gonna happen: we're going back into the bedroom, and I'm gonna fuck you. After we're done, you're gonna get your shit, and you're gonna come with me. We're going back to my hotel, and I'm going fuck you again. Probably again. You're going to keep coming back to my hotel every night I'm here. For free. You'll stay until I kick you out, and you will do whatever I tell you.
"If you don't," he ran on while Dean stood there completely locked up, "I'm going to send these files to some friends of mine in the press. Probably Hunter, too. I didn't want to give them to him because he's being a stubborn asshole about this Cesaro stuff, but now that I think about it, it'll get me back into his good books if I do.
"Think about it, Dean. Just by associating with you, Roman's dirty. I have him on tape admitting you're a prostitute - by name. If this gets out, it's going to be embarrass his family, the company, his parents - everyone. Not to mention whatever skeletons they dig out of your closet. I'm willing to be you have some pretty damn interesting ones"
"Not really," Dean said, but his mouth was dust-dry. This could not be fucking happening. "Are you fucking kidding me? Why are you doing this? Just for a fuck?"
"I mean, it's a win-win for me either way." Seth looked positively gleeful. "Either I spend a week getting to do all the things I've always wanted to do to somebody or I get to watch Roman dragged through the mud because of you. I wonder what the Cesaros would say if they knew Roman lied to them about you. Do you think they'd still want to business with him, knowing he lied about that? I don't. I bet they'd start asking a lot of questions. Hunter's good. I bet he'd be able to slip right in there and kick over the apple cart. This is the smoking gun he'd need. Wouldn't be much Roman could do about it because he'd be to busy getting dragged in the mud for rolling around with a whore. I win either way."
"Oh, fuck you," Dean muttered.
Because of you.
An ex-junkie prostitute who'd away from of a bad situation in Cincinnati only to fall into another one here.
It was Roman's reputation at stake, and if this sick motherfucker really turned all that shit over to people-
(because of you)
-and the deal with the Cesaros fell through-
(because of you)
-just because Roman decided to hire a prostitute for a week-
(because of you)
-that would be a fucking disaster.
So would having to spend a week around this fucking scumbag.
He gave Seth a look that was just short of murderous. "What do you mean by 'all the things you've always wanted to do to somebody'?"
"Sexually," Seth said. "If that's you licking my shoes or me watching you get gang-banged or me pissing in your mouth before I fuck it, that's what I'll do. Be smart about this. Really think about it. Because I'm offering you a chance to keep Roman's name out of the mud. All it'll cost is a week of your time. Then we never see each other again. I'll delete the files. Life goes on." He looked at his watch. "You have thirty seconds to make up your mind. Which one am I gonna ruin? Your ass or Roman's reputation?"
Given a choice, there really wasn't a choice. One of those would heal, eventually. The other might not. Everything in Dean screamed at him to say no, though, to go pound Seth's face into mush.
Roman's reputation mattered just a little more.
He walked right up to Seth and stared him down, letting all the hatred burn in his eyes. "When the time comes, I'm gonna watch you delete those fucking files."
And then I'm gonna kick your fucking ass from here to next year, sunshine.
"No problem," Seth said easily. "Let's take this to the bedroom. You lead the way."
Dean took Seth to the master bedroom, the room where he'd spent so much good time this week. Already that molten rage had cooled into something less lethal, and with it came an idea.
Once they reached the foot of the bed, he pivoted on his heel and shoved Seth down onto the mattress as hard as he could. Seth landed on his back with a startled grunt, legs dangling off the edge. Dean jumped up to straddle Seth's chest, and, before Seth could begin to react, he hauled off and punched Seth in the face - twice. Hurt like a bitch, the pain from newly-split knuckles traveling all the way up his arm, but he bloodied Seth's nose and set the weasel-faced fucker to howling like a banshee.
It gave Dean the opening he needed to get his hand into Seth's jacket and retrieve the cell phone.
Without the cell phone, the files went away.
In theory.
He darted off the bed with it and made a beeline to the balcony's sliding glass door, which he ripped open. Without a moment's hesitation he threw the phone as hard as he could, sailing it right the hell over the balcony's concrete railing. It disappeared over the edge.
They were ten stories up. No way that fucking thing survived that fall.
Dean didn't have time to savor that victory because something ran into him from behind with the approximate force of a wrecking ball, and sent him staggering into the door casing. By sheer reflex, he managed to catch himself on his hands and avoid a broken nose, but it was a near thing.
Two rough hands grabbed him and shoved him back into the room. His feet got tangled with something - one of Seth's feet - and he staggered sideways into the dresser, once more just managing to catch himself before the corner could break his ribs.
Seth grabbed him again, and this time just threw him straight down onto the floor.
Dean barked the hell out of both kneecaps and his palms when he landed, but adrenaline and anger combined to keep the pain at bay for now. He scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding Seth's attempt to kick him, and hauled ass out of the room-
-only to find Roman hurrying toward him, expression nothing but concern.
"I heard something fall. Are you-? Seth?"
Dean wheeled around, panting, and watched Seth stumble out of the room and into the hallway, disheveled, blood smeared all over the bottom of his nose, his lower hip split open. Seth's eyes widened. "Thank fuck you're here, Roman," he said mushily. "Dean just fucking attacked me. I thought he was gonna rape me. Or worse. Call the cops. I want him arrested. Now."
"What? No," Dean snapped. He turned to Roman, whose attention was on Seth. "Don't listen to him. I didn't attack him. He tried to fucking blackmail me-"
"Blackmail you?" Seth barked a painful laugh and swiped the blood off his lip. "He tried to-"
"No," Dean cut him off. "Roman, he's the one who sold you out to Hunt-"
"Are you hearing this shit?" Seth yelled. "This guy is fucking crazy, Roman! Get him the fuck away from me. Get the cops here. He needs to me locked up."
"-Hunter," Dean said, holding Roman's gaze. "He had a tape of you telling him I was a-"
"No, I didn't," Seth cut in. "He's fucking lying, Roman."
Roman rounded on him. "Shut up, Seth!" His voice was almost deafening in the narrow hallway. "What did he have, Dean?"
"A recording on his phone of you saying I was a prostitute. Pictures of us at the golf course. He said if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd send it all out to Hunter and to people in the press. Friends of his. He said they'd drag you down with it. I took his phone and fucking threw it off the balcony."
Seth wiped his face again. His nose had stopped bleeding, but his lip continued to ooze. "He's out of his fucking mind, Roman. I didn't have-"
"Why are you even here?" Roman demanded, clearly furious. It made him look even bigger than usual, the way he was towering over Seth right then. "I thought you were going back to your hotel."
"I had something to drop off," Seth said. "It's a good thing I did, because I caught him trying to steal your shit. He fucking attacked me. He stole my phone. Call the cops. I want him arrested. I swear to God-"
"Seth, I know it was you who sold me out to Hunter," Roman said over him. "We found proof this morning. I know it was you, so shut your lying mouth right now before I shut it for you."
Relief hit Dean in such a heavy wave that he sagged against the wall beside him.
Roman, meanwhile, continued glaring daggers at Seth. "What the hell did I ever do to you? Huh? Why would you go behind my back to Hunter after everything I've done for you over the years?"
The only answer was sullen silence. Seth just stood there looking like a kid who'd been caught and didn't want to confess.
Dean tipped his head up toward the ceiling. "He was crybabyin' earlier about never getting any credit for the work he did. How you'd been handed everything when he'd had to work for it all. I dunno. Sounded like a lot of bullshit to me."
"All those As I got in college, Seth," Roman said, "those were handed to me? All the sales I've closed, those were just handed to me? All the work I put in getting to know the clients and glad-handing people at galas, that's all just handed to me? Getting onto the football team and staying there, that was just handed to me?" He slipped past Dean and got right up in Seth's face. "Why did you do this?"
All Seth did this time was touch a couple fingers to his lips, wipe them on his slacks, and straighten his jacket. "I still have copies of everything I showed Dean. Gotta love those cloud accounts. Enjoy the headlines, Roman," he added, slipping around Roman and making his way down the hall. "You can thank Dean for them. This is what you get when you roll around in the gutter."
Roman followed Seth out into the living room, grabbed his arm. "I'm gonna have headlines? What about you, Seth? Stabbing me and my company and your own family in the back? My little indiscretion here will blow over in a week. Yours is gonna stick to you for life. Once it gets out there you're an untrustworthy snake, nobody's gonna want to hire you or trust you with anything again."
Indiscretion? Dean thought, easing his way past the bar. Is that what I am?
("Just by associating with you, Roman's dirty.")
Had he really thought it was going to be that easy?
"I'll be fine," Seth was saying, but Dean tuned him out.
It was a fucking fairytale, the thought that a rich dude like Roman and a ex-hooker without a pot to piss in could be anything but a disaster. This shit didn't work in reality. Who the fuck was he kidding?
Fucking indiscretion.
While Roman said something to Seth, Dean made his way to the door, quietly picked up his duffel bag, and let himself out of the suite.
It was a chickenshit way to go, sneaking out like this, but it was better for both of them if he just fucking disappeared. Roman could handle Seth just fine. And without the fucking indiscretion in the picture, maybe things wouldn't be that bad for Roman when all this did hit.
This never would have fucking worked, anyway.
Besides that, he had a life of his own to get on with. The job and wrestling school and all that crap. He didn't need any of this shit getting in the way of that. Fuck all this blackmail and fucking corporate intrigue bullshit. It wasn't worth the hassle.
Roman was a fucking fairytale.
Reality was, it was fucking midnight, and it was time for the coach and horses to go back to being mice and pumpkins.
Time for Dean to get his fucking head out of the clouds and get his ass to work.
He made it as far as the elevator before Roman caught him. Hadn't even hit the button yet when Roman thundered up behind him. "Dean! Wait a minute. Where you going?"
Dean hit the 'down' button on the elevator's panel. "Home."
"You're just gonna walk out like this?"
"Yeah." Dean made himself look over, meet Roman's gaze. The surprise and hurt and upset he saw in the gray of Roman's eyes hit like a kick to the chest, but he refused to look away from it. "I think it's for the best. Don't you? You little indiscretion here has already caused you enough trouble. Probably better for both of us if I disappear so I don't cause you any more."
"Dean, you didn't cause me any trouble." Roman clamped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I didn't mean indiscretion like that, anyway. The act of hiring you was an indiscretion. Not you. I don't regret a damn thing about you. I'm lucky I found you that night, and I don't want to lose you." He shot a quick look around. "Seth's more than likely gonna end up in jail, anyway. They found way more than just proof he sold me out. Once that gets out, this will disappear. We'll be fine. I can help you find a wrestling school. I can even pay for it. Or a place for you to live. Anywhere you want. I'll pay for everything. I'd do it in heartbeat."
"I don't want that," Dean said, shaking his head. "I don't need it. I'll make my own way." He swallowed. This was harder than he thought it'd be. "This was never gonna work. I can put on the clothes all I want, but we both know I don't fit in your world. 'Sides that, if Seth blows the lid on this, you ain't ever gonna be able to bring me around anywhere without people thinkin' 'Oh, there's Roman and his whore.' Mean, I don't give a fuck what they say about me, but it's your reputation, and that I do care about. So let's just call it here."
"I don't want to," Roman said. He didn't let go. "Don't do this. I don't care about my damn reputation. If anybody said anything about you, I'd kick their asses."
"You should care about it." The elevator doors slid open. Dean reached for it to keep it from closing. "You need to. You got a whole fucking company and your family to think about. You got a shitstorm about to hit because of that fucking scumbag. You need to go deal with that. Because that's reality. This isn't some fairytale where you can just wave a magic wand, and all that stops mattering just because you don't want it to. Me and you here, this was a nice break - good kick in the ass we both needed to get movin' the right direction. Thank you for that, but that's all."
"Let's stay in touch," Roman said, and he sounded like he was getting desperate. Dean felt like a complete asshole. "Give me your phone number. When this all blows over, we can try it again for real. This is not a big deal. You don't have to cut me off. We could give it some time and see what happens. Why don't we do that?"
"It was never gonna work out," Dean said gruffly, pushing Roman's hand away. Getting kicked in the nuts probably would've felt better than looking at Roman right then. "I got too much baggage, and you got too much ridin' on you. You don't need my shit on top of yours. Besides, I…" He cleared his throat and stepped into the elevator, telling himself the whole way this was for the best. It was. Or it would be. They'd both see that. "I'm not lookin' to get tied down right now anyway. I got too much I wanna do. So. It was, uh, it was nice knowin' ya. Thanks again. For everything. But I gotta go now."
The worst part was that Roman just stood there looking fucking miserable while the elevator doors slid shut between them.
Dean hit the L button with a heavy hand, and spent the entire ride down staring at the floor.
"'S for the best," he told himself.
(Is it?)
Other than Becky behind the front desk, the big, flowery lobby was empty. Dean adjusted his duffle bag's strap so it stopped digging into his neck.
Becky waved at him. "Hey, Dane." She had her hair down today, the coppery red eye-catching against the black of her jacket. "Goin' somewhere?"
He made his way over, hoping like hell he didn't look upset or anything. A smile didn't feel right, so he didn't bother. "I'm out, actually. Headin' home."
Her eyebrows lifted. "You're not leavin' with Mr. Reigns?"
Yeah, that didn't hurt at all.
"No. I live in the city here, so." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw somebody get out of the elevator, and his heart slammed against his ribcage in alarm until he saw he wasn't Roman. "Uh. Hey, so when's your next gig? The fifteenth? What time and where?"
"Right, the fifteenth," she said, quietly tapping her fingernails on the desk. "It's at The Line. Eight o'clock. You're comin'?"
"For sure," Dean said, and now he smiled. It wasn't much, but it got her to stop drumming her fingernails on the desk. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Great! Enzo and Big Cass are comin' too. That'll be fun." She paused, though, studying him. "Will we be seein' ya around again?"
"Not here, no." Dean shook his head. "I just, uh, I was just here as a favor to Roman. That's all. Now I'm done, and that's it. So. Anyway, I gotta hit the bricks. Guess I'll see you here in a few weeks, huh? Oh, but hey, could you tell Tyler and Fandango I said thanks for everything? And thank you, too. had a really good week this week. 'S a nice place."
"I'll tell 'em ya said that." Becky offered a much more natural smile than Dean could manage. "Enzo's workin' valet today - he does durin' the day Saturday - if you wanna stop and talk to him before you go. See ya later, Donald. Take care."
Dean flashed her a peace sign and wheeled away from the counter. "You too."
Exhausted suddenly, he made his way over to the valet exit, and huffed a laugh when he saw Enzo rapping away at his stand, earbuds in his ears and something loud enough Dean could hear the thump of the beat pouring out.
When he saw Dean approaching, Enzo yanked his earbuds out. "Yo! 'S up, Deano?"
"I'm out," Dean said again. "I'm goin' home."
Enzo looked around. "Where's Mr. Reigns? He didn't call for his car. He just told me to park it like twenty minutes ago."
"I'm - no. I'm just gonna catch the bus to my apartment," Dean said. "He's flying out to Florida later. We're goin' our separate ways." Once again, he changed the subject as fast as he could. "So I hear you're comin' to Becky's gig in a couple weeks. I'll be there, too."
"Shit, really? Sweet! Then you can meet Cass. We'll hang out. Our diss track should be done by then. Bro, we got this dope-ass beat we almost got perfect and we're gonna be spittin' all kinds of fire over that shit. I'm dyin to get this shit out there. Expose that whack-ass wannabe G for the puppet he is."
"Can't wait to hear it, man," Dean said. He held up a fist. "'Til then, huh? Good luck. We'll see you here in a few weeks."
"Take it easy, Dane. And lemme know if you change your mind about those tiger stripes. They'd look bitchin'. Plus, y'know. Reppin the home team."
"Yeah, I'll do that," Dean said. "Later, Alonzo."
And with that, Dean hoisted his duffel again, and walked away from the hotel for what he thought would be the last time.
He had a bus to catch and life to get on with.
It's for the best, he repeated to himself over and over, wondering the whole just how long it was going to take him to believe that.
Roman would be fine.
And this wasn't his fucking problem.
He wasn't the one who'd tried to blackmail anybody. All he'd done was take a fucking job when somebody offered it. That was all. The job was over, and it was time to fucking move on.
Things might be a little tough for Roman for a while, but if he was right about Seth going to jail, then everything would be fucking fine.
Roman would be fine.
(Fucking coward.)
It wasn't until he slid into a seat toward the back of a crowded Metro bus that he realized he'd left his backpack and his new leather jacket in the suite. They were in the bedroom.
Shit.
That was okay, too, he guessed; he wouldn't need that backpack anymore, now that he was out of the game, and he still had his old coat tucked away in duffel along with his money and everything else he really needed.
While the bus chugged through traffic and the Kingsford hotel faded into the distance behind him, Dean dug his jacket out and slipped it on. It settled over him like a comfortable second skin, worn and battered but his. Right. Comfortable.
That other jacket had been stiff anyway, and not as comfortable, even if it'd looked totally bad-ass.
This jacket was fine.
He was fine.
Roman would be fine.
Everything was fucking fine.
It was.
(Is it?)
A/N: Yeah, I know. I hate this one, too. We'll see Roman's side next chapter, and...yeah. We're not done, kids. Just hang in there.