Chapter XIV: Public Displays of Affection
After three weeks of living together, Dave and Orianne had settled into a comfortable routine and had finally started leaving each other alone to get work done. When Dave headed out for an afternoon at the gym, she settled at the kitchen table to take care of the phonecalls and e-mails for Cara. While she was confirming the delivery of tables and chairs for the reception, the door bell rang. Whoever it was would go away, she thought, but then they started knocking. It wasn't incessant but a knock to be sure that, if the doorbell didn't work, they were heard. Finally, she ended the call and padded to the door to peek out the window. She gasped when she saw Sloan standing on the stoop. He was either here to try to change her mind again or give her the papers. Rather than take a chance by ignoring him, she pulled the door open despite the fact that she was in just a t-shirt to keep a waistband from irritating the new tattoo.
"Hey," he awkwardly greeted when she appeared.
"Come on in. Dave's not here in case you're wondering."
"I can say what I came to say from here."
"Well, I don't really want the neighborhood seeing me in just this," she replied, picking at the shirt. Sloan had definitely noticed what she was wearing and had hoped he didn't interrupt anything, although it would have been nice justice. He stepped inside and she shut the door behind him. "What can I do for you?"
"I've been working for Woodward and Morgan for a while now. I guess Orrin told you that," he nervously said. "They contract with the government for software and equipment and so forth. I, uh, well, they're sending over more hardware to Iraq in two weeks and they've asked me to oversee that."
"But they don't send that over with civilians, do they?" she replied with a furrowed brow. He looked away in response. "Sloan Patrick Anderson," she ground out, "you never retired, did you?"
"Yes and no. I was in the process when we split and the Air Force has been trying to talk me into staying because of the surge. I hung on to just do some recruiting on the weekends, something to fill my time. And now there's this request—"
"But it's not a request. You can't turn it down."
"Why does it matter to you? You don't care," he replied, the hurtful words tumbling out.
"It doesn't. But the fact that you lied to me all that time we were trying to make it work…" she trailed off.
"I wasn't lying. I was in the process," he angrily replied.
"Well, I can tell you this. You're crazy if you thought that staying on was going to get me back," Orianne responded in kind, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
"I was supposed to throw away my career because you kicked me out?" he asked, holding his hands out for the answer. "If I couldn't change your mind, there's no way I would have let twenty-seven years of being in the Air Force go for nothing."
"You're right," she replied with a resigned air. "And I mean that. Why are you here?"
"I couldn't leave without seeing you one more time," he answered, his face softening.
"Sloan," she warned him.
"Please, Ori," he said, reaching out to cup her cheek. When she didn't slap his hand away, he leaned in to softly kiss her and then immediately stepped back. "I'll go now. I'll make a decision about the divorce papers before I leave. Just give me until then. You can take me to court when I get back after two weeks if I don't sign them."
Before she could say another word or argue with him, he turned to go and she didn't move as he let himself out. He had come all the way to DC to see her before he left or he had business here and just dropped in. Either way, he made an effort to come see her. "Whatever," she muttered to herself and twisted the lock back in place to return to her phone calls. The woman wanted to be mad at her husband for not retiring from the military but he had a point. Why should he now that they were through? The Air Force was his passion and it should stay that way. Good for him, she thought and settled back at the table, relieved that he agreed to make a decision before he left. But that didn't stop that familiar feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach about him leaving on an assignment.
Dave took the news that Sloan was there the same way but understood why. If he was about to throw himself into the same kind of danger while he was separating from his wife, he would have gone to her as well. Maybe this would spur him to sign the papers and let her go.
Cara and Cedarius had chosen the Saturday before the start of the European tour for their wedding because everyone would be off for the weekend before catching the first flight out to Germany. Because Cara was from Chicago, Illinois, and Cedarius from Fort Payne, Alabama, they aimed for a location sort of in between. They had found a little white church in the Smokey Mountains with a little old cemetery out back and a gorgeous view of the valley. It was an afternoon wedding, so only the bridal party was in tuxedos. Orianne hadn't cared when she first knew how informal it was but, having seen Dave in a tux, she wished otherwise. If he had worn one, she would have felt guilty from the incredible lust given the nature of the ceremony.
If there were any racial issues between the Whitfield and Cooper families, no one exhibited them. However, it was obvious that some of Cara's family wasn't quite as comfortable as they wanted to be when Cedarius' gospel heritage was celebrated. Orianne loved it and rose to her feet along with the rest of the church, clapping and joining in on the hymn. It was the religion of her childhood summers and, for a few moments, she believed in that God. Dave only smiled but rose with her, unfamiliar with the song. She was sure she would end up in a Greek Orthodox service one day. Derek and Monica had chosen a traditional Catholic wedding because she was Catholic. He didn't convert and they both promised to raise their children Catholic, although Monica had admitted to the Batistas that they would bring them up with both heritages in mind.
By the time Orianne and Dave tumbled into the bed in their hotel room, their cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. "I'm so tired already, I don't know how I'll make it the next two weeks," she said, sighing against him.
"The adrenaline will keep you going," he said, pulling her close. "We're not going to get much time together but I promise we'll get out and sightsee and I'll be thinking about you every second we're apart."
"You don't have to kiss up to me to get sex," she replied with a wink.
Dave wasn't lying about them not seeing much of each other but she expected that. As staff, she was on separate flights. To top it off, they also had roommates. Because they were practically in a different city each night, they were usually shipping out the next morning. Dave also had to attend several autograph signings and P.R. appearances.
While she would liked to have seen everything, there were only two places she had to visit in Italy: the Coliseum and the Pantheon. The Coliseum and the Forum was beyond amazing and she could only stare in wonder. The photographer went through two rolls of film alone on the location. She popped a couple of pain pills and she and Dave walked the streets of Rome to see the Spanish steps, Trevi fountain, and the other various squares on their way to the Pantheon and the Vatican. He had promised his new sister-in-law a rosary from St. Peter's and, while there, Orianne persuaded him to see the Sistine chapel.
Given her love of mythology, Rome was definitely the highlight of the trip but that wasn't to say that the few hours they spent swimming in the Mediterranean wasn't heavenly. Damn, she had the hottest man on the planet, she thought as he resurfaced from diving under the water to tickle her feet. She had screamed, thinking a fish had her, and flailed backward. "You and I are going to take a trip to Greece," he said, slogging through the water to pull her to him. "That swimsuit needs to get out more. I'll take you to see where my grandfather grew up and you can play to your heart's content in all those ancient cities and we'll spend our afternoons on the beach until we turn into prunes."
"I would love to but right now it feels like I need to get out of this swimsuit," she replied suggestively, her hand closing over his hardening length.
"Let's do it in the water. Nobody will know," he whispered.
"Yeah, right," she sarcastically replied, glancing around.
"C'mon," he replied, gently walking her into deeper water where it was covering half of her breasts.
"Why are you suddenly so horny in public? You've tried to get me in the dressing room, the storage closet, the bathroom of that church, the ocean…" She abruptly stopped as he lifted her up to press his hips against hers. "Maybe we could ta—"
"Incoming!" Water drenched the couple and both spluttered it out of their faces to see Carlito resurfacing, his frizzy hair looking as if it hadn't gotten wet. "Will the two a'you quit makin' out for like more than two minutes? We're goin' back to the hotel. We gotta be on the bus in an hour an' a half. Wanna ride?"
That was the last moment they shared like that for the rest of the trip. They managed a quick tour of the highlights of London, including a stop at the ruins of the Roman baths. It was in Birmingham, England—oh, the irony—that she finally got through to Josh Holcomb to ask if Sloan had given him the signed divorce papers before he left for overseas.
"I haven't seen Sloan since our first meeting," the lawyer replied.
"You're serious?" she asked, her jaw dropping.
"Honestly, hon, haven't seen him and haven't received anything from him. Do you want me to go ahead and prepare proceedings?"
"No, let's just wait 'til he gets back. The papers might have gotten lost in the mail or returned back and they're sitting in his mailbox right now. I'll call you when he gets back." Orianne ended the call and muttered, "If the terrorists don't kill him, I will." There was no point in being mad now until she found out why the papers weren't in Josh's hands. She had a chance to have dinner with Dave and there was no sense pouting and ruining the meal.
Stepping into the lobby at the agreed time, Orianne glanced around for Dave but he wasn't around. Seeing Edge and Carlito, she approached them to ask if they knew were he was but then noticed Randy Orton standing among them. She could be the bigger person of the two and she strode up anyhow.
"Fantastic," Orton sarcastically ground out. "She's here. Dave's not gonna come with us."
Orianne ignored him, although the anger was fast rising within her. "You guys seen Dave?"
Glaring at Randy, Edge turned to the photographer. "He had a couple more things to do before leaving the autograph session. He should be here any minute. You wouldn't mind giving him up for a guys' night, would you?"
"Yeah, right," she heard behind her and then additional 'umph' from Carlito elbowing Orton.
"Yeah, it's not a problem. Take'im out, get'im drunk, buy'im a lap dance or two. Just promise me that you'll get him back to the hotel in time to fly home. On one condition," she said, holding up a finger. Edge nodded and waited. "Give me a minute with Randy to straighten some stuff out."
Orton's arms fell from where he had them crossed and his jaw dropped. Edge shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Sure. Before I forget, Lita and Maria and some of the girls are going out tonight. They're meeting down here in half an hour if you want to go with them."
"Thanks," she replied and stepped back, waiting on Randy. He looked helplessly back and forth between Edge and Carlito but then hung his head, following Orianne to another corner of the lobby.
"Yeah, what?" he asked as if he was ridiculously bored.
"Me and you. We gotta straighten this out. I don't like you and you don't like me."
"No shit, Sherlock," he sarcastically replied, rolling his eyes.
"Shut up and listen." Randy's eyes narrowed in anger but she ignored the look and continued. "Yeah, I told Olivia what you did with a few embellishments but you shouldn't have put me in that situation. Yeah, Dave and I lied to everybody and I know Dave lying to you hurt like hell."
"You don't know that," he defensively cut in.
"I know better but that's beyond the point. You told me what you thought about me but that little thing with Edge and Carly," she twirled her finger around, "that's uncalled for. You tell me what it is that you want from me to stop this animosity, what your problem is with me now."
"You really want to know?"
"For the love of god, please."
Randy shook his head like he was about to change his mind. After a moment, he met her eyes. "Dave and I were like this," he said, twisting two fingers around each other, "until you came along. I had no idea where he was spending all his time and, lo and behold, it was with you. He lied to me about you. But, hey, we were working on being friends again when you went back to your husband. It couldn't be that easy, could it? No, you're back here again. I can't hang out with any of my friends because you're around. Forget trying to even eat a simple meal with Dave." Orianne couldn't help but laugh; he was jealous of her. She finally figured out what his comment at the gym about letting Dave off the leash meant. "I don't find any of this funny."
"First off, you should try growing up. I can be civil with you around if you just try. But I can respect that you don't want me around. Just ask. 'Hey, Dave, you wanna grab a bite?'" she said, mocking Randy. "I'm a grown woman. I can handle it. We live together. For the love of god, I need you get him out so that I don't kill him."
Orton didn't know if he should be buying this from her or not but she seemed to be sincere. Instead of arguing with her accusations of being childish, he chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Yeah, thanks," he muttered.
"You think you could keep the comments to a minimum and stop glaring at me?"
"Yeah, I guess," he mumbled.
It wasn't exactly the reconciling conversation Orianne had hoped for but she couldn't exactly expect someone as cocky and self-righteous as Randy Orton to just apologize and fall all over himself in gratitude. It was good enough and she stepped around him to see Dave purposefully striding towards them, a look on his face that was somewhere between anger and concern. Edge and Carlito were right on his heels in an attempt to stop him.
"Hey, baby," she said, stopping him and putting a hand on his chest.
"You okay?" he asked, looking over her head at Orton and then down at her eyes.
"Yeah. Randy and I worked things out. You," she said, running a hand down the center of his chest, "are going out with the guys tonight. Stay out of trouble. If any of these goobers buys you a lap dance, you have my permission to enjoy."
Dave blinked at her, trying to figure out what had just happened. "You heard her," Edge butted in, "let's get out of here."
"I'll catch you at the airport in the morning," she said, tugging his shirt to pull him down for a kiss.
"Wait. What are you going to do about supper?" he asked.
"I'm having a girls' night out," she responded with a smile. While she would rather have Dave make love to her until she was senseless, going out with Lita, and even Maria, would be a nice second to keeping her mind off the divorce papers and Sloan.
"I'm so jealous that I didn't get to go on the tour this year," Cara mumbled, flipping through Orianne's pictures of the trip.
"Two things. Woman, you were on your honeymoon, and second, haven't you been several times before?"
The tech giggled like the blushing bride that she was. "Okay, you've got a point."
"Oh, so tell me what exactly this was about?" Orianne asked, pointing at a photograph in Cara's mini-album from their trip to Mexico.
"That happened after Cedarius had one too many belly shots," she said with a laugh.
"And what's your excuse?"
"Do I have to have one, Miss Jello Shot?" the blonde countered.
"I guess not," the photographer replied with a hint of a blush.
"Oh, this is for you," Cara suddenly said, digging around in her shoulder bag and producing an envelope. Orianne opened it and slipped out a small stack of pictures. Flipping through them, a small smile spread across her face; they were all of her and Dave at the reception. "The two of you look so good together."
"Not as good as you and Cedarius," the black-haired woman replied, her hand dropping to the wedding album on the table. "As soon as Sloan signs the divorce papers, I couldn't be any happier."
"And when is that?"
"He's supposed to arrive back in the States on Thursday but he'll have to debrief. So I might talk to him by…" She counted days in her head. "Saturday next week."
It was going to be a long week waiting to hear back from him. She had plans for Dave Tuesday night to make up for losing the belt. Triple H came back after the muscle tear Monday night and, in a surprise move—planned for months, surprise for the fans—he challenged Batista on his first night back and won the belt back. Although he knew it was coming, it was always disappointing to hand the championship over. So, Orianne planned on pampering her man to help him wallow in his pity.
Their flight was an early one, so they had most of the day ahead of them. Orianne insisted Dave take a nap because he was getting a little cranky while she took care of their laundry. While the second load was in the washing machine, she decided she could use a nap herself and lay down across the couch with the plan that the washing cycle signal would go off and wake her up. Just as she drifted off, the door bell jerked her out of the first phase of sleep. Struggling to wake up, she heard knocking follow. Instead of checking to see who it was, she pulled the door open.
Dave had been woken by the door bell as well and was stumbling down the stairs, hardly thinking that Orianne would get the door, just in time to see her face go white as a sheet.
TBC…