December 26th, 2011
Tampa Bay, Florida
Mega Food Market
With the biggest holiday of the year gone, everything is back to normal for the time being. All of the adults who spent their mandatory day off spending time with family, or alone,were dragging themselves back to work. Roman being one of them. Standing in the cooler taking stock of meat and cheese. He checks his phone to see a missed call and text from Dean. Simply saying "call me man" .
While writing a list, his deli co-worker Temlin walks in. Temlin was a kid from Belgium who came to America through a foreign exchange program 3 years ago. He loved the country so much he moved here when he turned 19. A real happy-go-lucky, blonde and blue eyed wonder.
"Hey Rome, we got any more Provolone? Hey that rhymes!"
"Yeah, third rack on the middle shelf." Roman responds, sounding tired.
"Come on man, perk up! You're usually more energized than that!"
"Sorry Temlin, I'm just not feeling it right now. I got a lot on my mind."
"Like what?"
Roman never told anyone at the market about his previous job. Unsure of how anyone would react to it. Last thing he wanted were people asking questions about traveling the world and killing people. Yeah it sounds cool, but not everyone thinks that way.
"Temlin, can you keep a secret?" Roman asks leaning forward.
"Sure man."
"I used to work for a private military. I spent almost a year there with this entire network of people. Me and two other guys were trained to take special missions that required us to kill marked targets or rescue people. We went all over the U.S. and it was incredible. The thing is I miss it, and I need to talk about it to someone. Cause my wife wants to send me to a therapist and I don't want that. What do you think?"
Temlin stands silent, his mouth turned sideways and one eyebrow raised. A few seconds pass before he bursts out laughing. Falling over and holding his sides. Roman shakes his head and walks out the cooler. He didn't consider the fact that no one would believe him. Why would they? If anything, it makes him sounds like a middle aged loser who made up stories to compensate for his average life.
Roman goes through the motions during the rest of his shift. The same thoughts lingering in the back of his head. Honest work was better than dodging bullets, and it was best for his wife and daughter. He was closer to home, but made less money. He worked more days then before, but was safe where he was. To top it all off, since he paid the rest of his mortgage, the big checks he made in his short time in WWE were little to nothing now. Both pros and cons to each side. Maybe he should be happy he even had the chance to do the cool stuff you only see in movies. Towards the end of the night, Roman cleans the equipment as Temlin packs up.
"See you later James Bond." Temlin jokes before leaving.
Roman serves the last few customers and heads to the break room. Flopping on the couch to gaze at the ceiling. A female cashier walks by on the way out, noticing his blank stare.
"You alright?" She asks.
Roman blinks a few times, coming out of his thoughts.
"I'm fine, thanks Marissa."
"You know, we appreciate you a lot here. I've been in this business long enough to know when someone hates their job."
"I-I don't hate my job. I just miss my old one."
"Oh yeah, Temlin told me about your job as a government spy. Or something like that."
"That's not even what I sai-, just forget it. I'll see you later."
Roman heads out in frustration, walking through the chilly night in his denim jacket. It was a long way home, but the air was therapeutic. Staring at the ground while walking, thinking about the WWE. Every time he thinks about it, the cries of that child start up again. He smacks himself in the head trying to knock the cries away. As he crosses the street still looking down, headlights flash in his eyes.
"OH SHIT!"
Roman jumps out the way as the car screeches to a halt. A woman gets out the car yelling as Roman lays on the ground counting his blessings.
"Are you fucking stupid? Who crosses the street without...Roman?"
Roman could see tied up purple hair from the corner of his eyes. Sasha Banks walks over smiling.
"Boy what you doing out here?"
"Not much. Just looking to get run over for some insurance money."
"Get ya smart ass up." She says extending her hand.
She yanks Roman to his feet, now able to get a good look at her. Beautifully dressed like she just came from a party.
"Where you headed?" She asks.
"Home."
"Word, need a ride?"
"Uh, sure."
"Aight. Hop in."
Roman walks over to the passenger side of a two door black Aston Martin. Getting in the car which smells of perfume and bubble gum. Sasha hops in and resets her GPS.
"Throw ya address on there baby boy."
She hits the road and turns on the radio. Gip 206 playing Beyonce's "Crazy In Love".
"Ooo, this my shit!" She says turning up the radio.
Roman sat quiet with his hands folded. Like a child at a friends house who's too scared to ask anything. Sasha knew Roman was sweet on women, recalling him not wanting to fight her earlier in the year, but didn't think he was shy. Really it was Roman being alone with another woman that made him nervous. We all know how wives feel about that.
"So what's the chances I ended up seeing you down here." He finally asked.
"One of my houses is in Miami. I'm here in Tampa Bay seeing a friend."
"Wait, you got more than one place?"
"Three to be exact. A vacation home in Miami. I love coming down here in the summer. My work home is in Texas and my estate in France."
"Three homes? French estate? This chick must be loaded." Roman wonders.
"I just came from dinner and was headed home. Then I almost turn you into road kill. You busy? Wanna grab a drink?" She offers.
He wasn't really in the mood to go home just yet, so he thankfully agreed. They hit a nearby bar and take stool seats. They order a beer and pina colada before getting comfortable. She removes her fur jacket, showing off her black mesh dress with cobweb design. Gathering eyes from all across the bar, much to the ire of the girlfriends and wives there. She fluffs her hair as her diamond encrusted necklace and watch sparkle.
"Too much?" She asks Roman.
Roman stared with more concentration than a college mid-term. She was a fine woman, and she knew that. He was never a liar, and wasn't starting today. Roman closes his eyes and shakes his head yes.
"Cool, I love showing these hoes up. Anyway, how's life? Better yet, how are your boys doing after that ass whooping?" She said laughing.
"Fine I guess. I don't really know. Don't work for the WWE anymore."
"Whuuuuut?"
Roman once again tells his story of Philadelphia as the bartender serves their drinks. He was tired of telling it, although it got easier each time. Sasha seemed unfazed afterwards, contrary to everyone else after hearing the story. She looked bored to be honest.
"That's it?" She asks looking disappointed.
"What do you mean "that's it"? Do you know how hard it was for me to do that? My mind hasn't felt the same since." He responds angrily.
"If you say so. I was expecting something a little more tragic."
Roman's face is one of disbelief as she sips her drink. Scrolling through her phone, liking pictures. He taps the counter to get her attention.
"Are you for real?"
"You want me to cry you a river?" She replied, keeping her eyes on her phone.
Roman opens his mouth to speak but Sasha puts her hand over it. She takes a small breath and starts talking calmly.
"Let me explain something to you. What we do is not easy, I understand that. However, the fact that guy even brought a kid to a drug deal, says that he was a piece of shit that deserved to get offed. I'm sure you've killed a few guys before that. You don't think THEY had kids?"
Roman doesn't say a word. He leans back on the stool and folds his arms. That thought ran through his mind as well. It just didn't sink in like the other one did.
"Also, I'm sure you know about the "Its them or us" mentality. Our enemies aren't gonna be concerned about my girl Charlotte's kid if she dies. Same goes the other way around. The difference between us and them, is that we do the right thing. Maybe you shouldn't have left the kid there, but we all make mistakes. I've made my own fair share of tough judgment calls. My point is, don't pretend you have some guilty conscience when YOU KNOW what you signed up for in the first place. Now you sit there and think of a PROPER reason why I should shed a single tear for your ass."
Sasha finishes her drink and goes back to her phone. Roman remained silent, only rolling his jaw. Burning alive in the proverbial truth bomb she dropped on him. Sasha drops a $50 bill on the bar and tells Roman its time to go. On the way to the car, Roman stops her in the parking lot. Rubbing the side of his face while trying to find the right words.
"You're uh... uh...I think you might be right." He utters.
"I know I'm right. It's not wrong to feel guilty, but that situation could of been handled a lot worse. Now come on, I'm tired."
On the way there, Roman took the opportunity to ask about the rival to Vince McMahon.
"How much you making with the APA?"
"Why, you want a job?"
"Just asking."
"About $200k a year. Bonuses with jobs well done."
That was well more than what he made, although Sasha and her team were clearly pros. Roman did the math in his head, and there was no way she could afford three houses off that alone.
"I don't mean to ask but...how the hell do you afford two houses and this estate you have?"
"My grandma was a millionaire. She was from France and made her money off wine and art. I was her only grandchild, so she left me her estate, inheritance and businesses."
"Hold up, you're rich with a million dollar business?"
"You ever heard of Velvet Crest wine? That's all me."
"So what the hell are you doing working for the APA?"
"That is a story for another day." She said stopping in front of Roman's house.
Roman thanks her and hops out. Before heading to the house, he walks over to the driver's side and Sasha rolls down her window.
"One more thing I GOTTA ASK. What did you say to Seth when we fought?"
She starts smirking, making Roman smile.
"I keep telling him I like women, but he just doesn't seem to understand me." She sarcastically replied.
"That's what I thought. But I'll let him figure that out. Thanks again."
"Here's my number by the way. You need someone to talk you through a tough time, hit me. I've been there."
Sasha throws up the deuces as she drives off. Roman walks inside feeling a lot better than earlier. Finally getting some of that guilt of his mind. Indoors, all of the lights were still off.
"Tasha? Baby you home?" He shouts while cutting on a light.
No answer. He walks through the house, calling his wife at the same time. Only getting the voicemail.
"She should be fine. Might just be out with her friends."
He puts his phone on the table and goes to the bathroom. Reciting Sasha's speech a few times while washing his face. He then remembers to call Dean back, whom he hasn't spoken to. The story all over news channel on Dean's wild chase through Louisiana. Roman couldn't help but smile, thinking of his strange, yet misunderstood buddy. As he grabs his phone an unknown number pops up.
" This better not be a damn bill collector. Hello?"
"Hi, is this Roman Reigns." Asked a female voice.
"Yes it is."
"I'm calling from the Brookside hospital. We need you to come down immediately. Your wife has been shot."