Chapter 26
Paul was not used to playing chauffeur. Taker had been in the habit of driving himself. In nice weather, his motorcycle. In shitty weather, a truck. He was gathering this new 'service' he was providing, was due to the wife.
"You are licensed to drive, are you not?"
Mark could already see where this was going and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "You're the one who insisted on renting this, so you drive."
"It's a Cadillac!"
"Your age is showing, old man." Mark snorted, the snort turning to an outright chuckle when Paul began grumbling something under his breath, pretty sure he heard 'Elvis Presley' in there.
Why WAS Mark having them chauffeured around by Bill anyway? They were capable, mostly, of getting to the arena by themselves and Mark's media appearances. Bill was acting like Mark's personal assistant and it confused the hell out of Anciana. However, she did enjoy their arguing banter and found it amusing. It was like Bill was the father and Mark was his son. Something told her they didn't think of each other that way, but then again, she had read people wrong before. Drowning them out, she stared out the window and started thinking back to her training and everything Steve had told her.
"I know I'm beatin' a dead horse with this, Anci, but ya gotta watch yer ass around Taker. He's not a good person, he's evil and he'll chew ya up and spit ya out, honey. I'm just lookin' out for ya. Temptation is on the road all the time and, if he knocks ya up and leaves ya at home with kids, don't think for a second, he won't take a whore to bed. Ya gotta protect yourself."
"You don't have to worry about the kid thing because I…can't have any."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I physically can't carry a child. I have something called endometriosis and…I get cysts on my ovaries. The endometriosis has made me sterile." Cameria had told her that one day while Mark had left the hospital room to make a phone call.
Steve had felt bad and hugged his twin tightly, wishing he'd never brought up children to her. "I'm sorry, Anci, I'm so sorry…"
It was something Mark didn't know about her and she had made Cameria promise not to speak a word about it. Mark hadn't brought up the subject of having kids and, until he did, the secret would remain with her.
Probably a smart idea on her part, though eventually, it would bite her on the backside. Lying or withholding information was never a good idea, look at how she had gone off the ropes on him. He would, out of sheer spite, have returned the favor tenfold. As it was… Mark glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw the faraway look on Anciana's face and had to wonder what she was thinking. Sighing, he turned back around, ignoring the pointed look Paul had shot him.
"Just get us there, old man."
"You can handle your own driving from here on out."
"Anciana, how do you feel about motorcycles?"
Paul actually smacked Taker, none too gently, in the back of the head and shook his own, scowling. "She's got AMNESIA, or did you forget that part?!"
Anciana tried very hard not to laugh and failed, giggling. "I-I really don't know…if I've been on a motorcycle, I don't remember it."
Taker was losing his mind to ask the poor woman something like that. How the hell was she supposed to know anything about motorcycles?
"I mean, they look cool and…yeah, that's all I got."
She did not see Mark shooting his mentor a deathly glare and felt her pager go off, pulling it off her hip to check who it was. Cameria. She was finally returning Anciana's page and Anciana made a mental note to call her later tonight after the show if she wasn't too tired. Anciana had been out of that coma and with him long enough to know about motorcycles. If she didn't have an opinion on whether or not she was up for trying one out, she was obviously challenged.
"Good, we'll try you out on one." He said his tone at odds with the venom in his gaze as he stared down his nose at the fat little man, who was about to have HIS head put through a window.
Paul made a mental note to stay around people tonight, knowing if he was caught alone anytime soon, he was going to regret that slap.
"I mean, I know you have a collection in the garage, but other than that, I don't know if I've ever been on one. They look…interesting." Was that the right word to use?
Hell, she didn't know and felt ridiculous for not even knowing what it was like to be on a motorcycle. What she DIDN'T know was she had been on plenty of motorcycles throughout her life, thanks to her father. He was a huge motorcycle man and had his own collection in Victoria, Texas. Throughout her life, he had taken Anciana for several rides for Daddy and daughter time. Those were happier times…before she turned 16 and her drive and desire to become a professional wrestler had ripped her away from her family.
"I trust you, so any type of vehicle we're riding on or in, I'm fine with it."
Aware Paul had just shot him a look, Mark purposefully stuck his tongue out at him in a very childish display.
Shock itself made him nearly rear-end the vehicle ahead of them and Paul lurched forward, hitting his head on the visor he had flipped down to keep the sun out of his eyes. "You ass!" Though, it was both weird and… nice, he supposed, hearing the deep, real laughter from Taker. He wasn't sure the man could actually laugh like a proper person.
"We'll get my Harley off the truck tonight, darlin'." Mark snickered, glancing back at Anciana. "I promise to be gentle."
Why did that sound ominous? Anciana cracked a hesitant smile, worry flooding her eyes and felt a shiver rush down her spine at his deep, baritone laughter. She couldn't recall hearing Mark laugh like he currently was, the sound thundering throughout the vehicle. Thunder…that's exactly what it sounded like. It was…surprisingly sexy and she found her body responding to it.
"You can be as rough with me as you want, handsome." Leaning up, she bit into the side of his neck, nipping him lightly, and sat back in her seat, pretending like nothing happened.
"You'll wind up in another accident." Paul snorted, rubbing his forehead with one hand, the other navigating them into the Walgreens parking lot. "He's an asshole on those bikes."
The fat man was pushing his luck tonight, wasn't he? "I like to go fast." Was the simple explanation.
"And what happened the last time, hmm?"
"I've almost finished restoring her." That might've been a bit defensive on his part; Mark had taken a wet curve a little too fast and, fortunately for him, only the Harley had been damaged when it could've been him.
Paul almost volunteered to go inside with Anciana when she got out of the car, beginning to squirm. The moment she wasn't able to see them, he let out a yelp as he received a slap upside HIS head.
After grabbing tampons and Pamprin to help with cramps, Anciana put it on the counter and pulled out her husband's credit card, handing it to the cashier. The items were rung up without an issue and she walked out a few minutes later, slipping in the backseat. The cashier was kind enough to be discreet and double bagged her items, so even in the plastic bags, it couldn't be seen.
"Thanks for stopping, Bill." She smiled at him and leaned her head back, wondering if maybe she should've stayed at the hotel tonight to rest from her training session with Steve today. Maybe she could catch some sleep at the arena in her husband's dressing room.
For Mark, the rest of the drive was peaceful. He bet Paulie boy had one hell of a headache and that served the old man right. If not for Anciana, Paul would have never dared taken such a liberty. Sometimes, one just had to remind people there were still claws and danger. Once at the arena, he stepped out of the car and stretched his legs before helping his wife out, smiling down at her. He knew this was her first day of training, or back to it as it were, but her body had been on a 'break' of sorts since he had run her over.
"You look tired, Ciana. You do know you shouldn't push yourself every day, right, darlin'? You'll burn your body out." Baby steps until she became acclimatized.
"You're welcome." Paul replied in a mutter, his head killing him.
"I am tired, but it's okay. I'm…"
That lightning bolt effect shot right through her head as Anciana dropped to her knees, clutching her hair in her hands. Another vision, a flashback, a memory…it was a woman and a ring with her inside of it. She didn't recognize the woman, but could hear her voice.
"Don't push yourself, Anciana. Take a few days to rest and then we can get back to it."
"No! I'm gonna prove my brother and family wrong! I'm gonna prove to them I can do this! I don't care what amount of pain and rejection I go through – I'm doing this, Sierra!"
"Si…Sierra…" Anciana snapped her eyes open, tears pouring down her cheeks from the pain and shakily got to her feet. Sierra Martin…she remembered her. It was her old trainer back in Las Vegas! "I-I'm fine…Sierra…I need to call Sierra. I haven't talked to her in so long. She probably thinks I abandoned her and my training."
It was so strange how, with each memory that came back, a little piece of the old Anciana returned as well. Did Cameria know who Sierra was? She had to, they were roommates and told each other everything, according to Cameria.
"Who is Sierra, Anciana?"
"M-My old trainer…she trained me in the ring in Vegas. I…I remember her…I remember meeting her and being laughed at because of my size. I remember proving her wrong by coming back every day at 5 AM sharp in the morning and training until 5 to 6 PM at night." She started crying, the tears happy and she began laughing, ignoring her slightly throbbing head. "I remember, my memories…they're slowly returning…I'm getting them back…one at a time…"
Antagonizing each other aside, Mark and Paul exchanged looks. He could practically see the panicking going on in the fat man's head, giving a nearly imperceptible shake of his own. He needed to run her over again or something. Bringing Anciana on the road, around so many triggers, was just a bad idea all the way around.
"Sierra Martin… why does that name sound familiar?"
"She was that fighter who got mugged," Mark answered, remembering seeing her all over the news. "Part of that cage fighting scene, right?" He was mildly impressed, eyeing Anciana thoughtfully. "Sierra Martin trained you?" She had been a badass bitch. "Explains that armbar."
"Yeah, I found an ad in the newspaper one day, after getting fired from another job." She chuckled, slowly rising to her feet with Mark's help and blinked a few times, the memory disappearing, though it was etched in her head now. "I saw the ad and I could instantly remember grabbing the phone and calling the number. Then I made an appointment to go meet her and…she laughed me out of the gym. For the next month straight, every day at 5 AM, I showed up to the gym I knew she'd be at and bugged her. I cleaned the place from top to bottom, made sure the girls she was training had everything they needed – I was her lackey. Finally, one night, I stayed late and got in the ring and began running the ropes. I was determined, I didn't care what it took or what I had to go through. I was going to prove Stevie and my parents wrong. She saw me and told me I was doing it wrong, then got in the ring and started showing me how to do it right. I took off from there and trained with her for 5 years…" Sierra would probably shit bricks when she got a phone call from her old pupil, that was for sure. "I was supposed to meet up with her the day of the accident, or I should say night. I never made it…and I never called her either to explain what happened."
Cameria had taken the liberty to call Sierra and explained what happened, asking her to be patient. Sierra had agreed, telling Cameria to let Anciana know to call her whenever her memories returned if they did. She didn't bother telling Mark or Anciana because of the amnesia, but also didn't want her friend to be without a trainer once her memories DID come back.
"You'll have to introduce me, darlin'."
Mark draped his arm around Anciana's shoulders before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He could practically feel the happiness and elation radiating off her at this memory. Well, the memory thing was progressing faster than he had anticipated; he was going to have to do something eventually if too many returned too fast. Mark had noticed she hadn't outright said she loved him, so he knew their bond wasn't on complete unshakable ground, not just yet. Anciana would wind up calling Cameria, it was just a matter of time. He was going to have to get his hands on Cammie first; something he had just been aching to do ever since meeting the banshee.
The tiredness was gone; Anciana left Mark at his locker room to go hunt her brother down, wanting to tell him the good news. She found him in catering and rushed up to him, crystalline eyes glowing.
"Please tell me you're not pregnant…" Steve immediately regretted saying that, groaning when she smacked him upside the head.
"No, you fool! Don't you remember our conversation from earlier today about that?" Anciana folded her arms in front of her chest, rolling her eyes at his sheepish smile. "I got some of my memories back."
Steve blinked, not expecting her to say that. "What were they?" Please tell me it was our parents and me, he silently prayed, taking his sister's hand to squeeze it.
"My trainer – well my old trainer, I should say. Her name is Sierra Martin and…"
Chyna, one of WWF's main Divas, overheard that and immediately stood up from the nearby table, her eyes wide. "Wait a minute, are you telling me not only are you Steve Austin's sister and the Undertaker's wife, but you trained under one of the best women fighters of our time?!"
Anciana nodded, blushing a little in embarrassment. "Yeah…"
"Austin, where have you been hiding this gem?! Oh my god, girl, I need details!" Chyna was as hyper and cheerful, the complete opposite of her in-ring character. "I'm Joanie, by the way."
She shook the woman's hand with a friendly smile. "Anciana."
"I'm calling you Ani for short."
Steve chuckled, seeing he had been completely taken out of the conversation and enjoyed watching his sister conversing with Chyna, who was built like a brick house, instead of being under the thumb of his nemesis.