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Chapter Two
Elizabeth loved working SmackDown. Without John, she was able to relax and interact more with her coworkers. She was sure he didn't mean to, but when he was at the show he monopolized her time. So she was grateful for the chance to nosh with the girls in Catering, enjoying the excitement as the crew rushed to get everything ready for the taping. She missed him, but she didn't miss the added work that was involved when he was in the building.
She avoided her laptop as though it were infectious, not sure she wanted to see whatever it was Dean insisted was noticeable, and she resolved to stay away from YouTube and the company's video database. Which became impossible as the afternoon wore on. She had to review the interviews from the night before. Her scripts only suggested the angle of the interview, not actual questions, and she always checked to make sure she didn't repeat herself. Leaving her laptop in her suitcase, she found the video tech and asked him to pull up the previous night's interviews for her.
Legal pad on her knee, she kept her gaze on the paper as she jotted down notes. When Dean's voice came through the headphones, though, she looked up to the screen.
"Let me tell you something, sweetheart…"
Her pen stopped moving as she watched. It couldn't be the leaning in. He always did that. Everyone she interviewed did that; it added intensity. Nor could it be the pet name. She had long ago lost count of how many times a wrestler referred to her as 'sweetheart' or 'darling' or 'honey' when talking to her. Tapping her pen against the paper, she skipped to the next video, resting her chin on her palm as it played. Nothing there. They had barely looked at her, though Dean had pushed her aside before flipping the table.
What had she missed? Or was this just another way of him to fuck with her, as he'd so eloquently put it? She couldn't imagine that something in their interviews had anything to do with them personally.
Ten minutes later, laptop in hand, she sank into a seat in the arena. She tucked an earbud into her left ear, leaving the right open so she could hear her phone. The video database took a moment to load and her fingers hovered over the keys before she typed in the search. Selecting the videos in order, she settled back and began to watch.
Three videos in, she noticed that he was always standing beside her. Again, nothing so out of the ordinary. He was considered the leader of the group, so it was only natural that he be in the center. But she began to notice other things. Little things. The fact that he always looked at her when she spoke. The dimple she loathed made a few appearances. The way he seemed to move closer and closer to her.
"Ridiculous," she muttered. What was this supposed to prove? That he had no concept of the idea of personal space? That he was intimidating? Skipping to the next video, she chewed on her bottom lip. It was from a pay-per-view – which one she wasn't sure – and she could remember his excitement over winning his first title. The excitement showed in the video. And so did that dimple.
She watched it again, smiling at the way his genuine love for the sport shone in the brief moments of bragging. She always loved moments like that. Sitting up straighter as the video neared the end, she skipped back, one eyebrow raising when, onscreen, he walked off. The camera panned to her, but not before Dean turned his head to look at her.
"Ridiculous," she muttered again, shaking her head. The rest of the videos were more of the same. Him watching her, him moving closer, him leaning in whenever he spoke to her.
What, was she supposed to believe he had a crush? She scoffed aloud at the very idea. They weren't in middle school. Still shaking her head, she shut down the laptop and looked to the ring. Roman and Bray Wyatt were inside, the former practicing his spear. She looked on for a moment then stood. The dress she was going to wear needed steaming. Pushing Dean's taunts from her mind, she hurried to the back.
"Hey, Elizabeth. Got a minute?"
She smiled, turning to slip into the Divas locker room when Brie called to her. Nikki was there as well, along with a few of the other Divas. Elizabeth smiled in greeting to them all and turned to Brie. "What's up?"
"I totally forgot that I was going with Bryan after the show," she said, mentioning her longtime boyfriend. "Nikki's taking a flight, too, so we can't carpool."
"No big deal," Elizabeth assured. She did math in her head and nodded. "I'll drive the rental home."
"Are you sure?"
"Alone on the road with full control of the heat and radio?" Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure. Have a safe flight."
"I still feel bad. I'll ask around and see if anyone needs a ride. That way you can split the driving," Brie offered.
"No, really, it's fine. Go have a great couple days off with Bryan. I'll see you later."
She texted John to give him the news, expecting a text in return, and was surprised when he called.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked.
"I'll be fine. I miss driving." Shaking out her dress, she reached for a hanger.
He was silent for a moment, then a sigh came down the line. "I didn't know that."
"That came out wrong. You know I love being on the bus with you." The cord to her steamer was too short to leave her dress hanging on the door and she wondered if Wardrobe would let her use one of theirs.
"But you miss driving."
"Not as much as I miss you right now," she promised. "How's your day been?"
"I did a couple radio interviews this morning, and Melissa finalized some Make-A-Wish plans for next week in… Where are we going? Right, Denver. She's excited. Her cousins are coming to the show so I'm gonna let her have the night off."
"Uh-huh." She hated the way her lips pulled into a frown at the mention of Melissa. Pulling her dress off the hanger, she draped it over her shoulder. "That'll be good."
"Oh, they want me to film some promos for the Network tomorrow. So I won't be able to see you until tomorrow night at the earliest."
"Are you going to Corporate?" she asked, leaving the dressing room.
"Yeah, I'll probably head up tonight. That way we won't have to make an early start in the morning. You know Melissa loves to sleep in."
No, she didn't know, and she didn't know why he felt it necessary to tell her. "I thought she was paid to assist you, not to sleep in."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what it implies. She should be looking after you, not vice versa."
"Really? You're pulling this jealousy shit now?"
Bringing the phone away from her ear to stare at it, certain she hadn't heard him say those words, she stopped in the center of the hallway. She drew in a deep breath to remain calm and tucked the phone back into place. "It was just an observation, John."
"Yeah. A shitty one."
"It is what it is," she muttered. "I'll call you when I'm leaving, okay?"
"Sure. Be careful, okay? That storm's near you."
"I will." She waited for a few seconds, grinding the toe of her shoe against the cement floor. "Love you."
"Love you too."
She shoved the phone into the rear pocket of her jeans and marched to Wardrobe. Grateful when one of the ladies took her dress to remove the wrinkles, she waited, inwardly fuming. Melissa, Melissa, Melissa, she thought with a roll of her eyes. Hating herself for thinking the worst, she was about to call John back to apologize when her dress was handed over. Effusive in her thanks, she carried it back to the dressing room, steps faltering at the sight of Dean leaning against the opposite wall.
He dipped his head in a slow nod in greeting. His jaw moved repeatedly, and she saw he was chewing gum when he opened his mouth to speak. "Got a minute?"
"Just one," she relented, gearing herself up for snide comments.
The foot not propped on the wall bounced to a tune only he could hear. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he snapped his gum. "I heard you're riding solo tonight." His eyebrows rose in question.
"Yes…"
"You want a passenger?"
No, she did not. Especially if that passenger was him. But he looked almost hopeful and she immediately felt bad for thinking she would rather ride across the country in the back of a horse trailer than ride anywhere with him. Still, she hesitated. "Why?"
"Seth's girlfriend is here tonight and he's going back with her for our days off. And Roman decided to fly out in the morning." He shrugged. "If you don't, it's cool. I was just thinking we could split the driving."
"I'm going to Boston. Well, I'm going to Buffalo first to grab a couple hours of sleep, then going to Boston."
"So am I. Well, actually, I'm headed to Stamford, but that's just a couple more hours." His smile was brief, but the dimple showed. He pushed away from the wall, rolling his neck. "No big deal. I'll honk if I pass you—"
"Yes." Elizabeth bit her lip. Had she really said that? Obviously she had, for, though he'd already started walking away, he was now turning around to face her. Sighing, she nodded. "Sure. We can ride together."
"Yeah?" The smile returned, lingered this time. "Cool."
"See you after the show then?" she asked, opening the door to the dressing room.
"Sure thing. Hey," he called as she began to enter the room. When she turned, he smiled. "Thanks."
Door open, cigarette in hand, Dean sat sideways in the passenger seat. Fumbling with the controls, he scooted the seat back before swinging one leg inside to test the comfort. He repeated the actions several times, nodding his head to the beat of the song playing on the radio.
Behind the wheel, Elizabeth waited patiently. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, trying once again to call John. Each time she had tried since finishing her work her calls had been directed to voicemail. The two texts she had sent remained unanswered and, when she heard his voicemail greeting, she sighed and waited for the tone. "Hey, it's me. Guess you've already gone to bed. Just letting you know I'm about to leave the venue. Love you."
Her passenger closed the door with a bang as she ended the call. Stretching out his legs, he tilted the seat back. "Starting to snow."
She looked out the windshield and saw tiny flakes landing on the glass. They melted immediately, but she reached up to increase the heat. Wrinkling her nose when a thin trail of smoke danced in front of her face, she leaned back. "Can you crack your window?"
"Oh, right. Sorry. You okay to drive?"
"Yes. As long as the roads don't get too bad, I'll be fine." She tossed her phone into her purse, which she placed on the floorboard in the back. Settling back in her seat, she reached for her seatbelt, watching Dean's fingers drum on the center armrest. She wondered if he was every completely still. She had noticed that he always seemed to be moving. Whether it was a gentle sway from side to side, or a foot bouncing, or nodding his head, or fingers drumming out a beat on whatever surface, he was always in motion. "Did you want to stop for coffee or anything before we hit the highway?"
"Sure. Wherever you want to stop is fine, I'm not picky." He leaned forward to turn on the GPS. "So, how come you didn't just take a flight?"
She had wondered that herself, especially after agreeing to ride with him. Making sure the mirrors were properly adjusted, she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I probably should have. But with the weather and everything there would probably be tons of delays. I would have ended up sitting in the airport all night. How about you?"
"Not crazy about flying. I prefer the open road. Drive fast, blast music." He shot her a grin, making selections on the GPS. "Buffalo, right?"
"Right."
She stopped at the first gas station she came to, not wanting to detour too far to find anything better. The snow had begun falling faster and thicker; grassy spots and parked cars were collecting a thin coat. Shivering, Elizabeth brushed snow from the collar of her coat and made a beeline for the coffee. It was fresh, thank God, and she filled two large cups, making sure to add enough sugar to keep her awake. Adding a couple bags of chips and some gum when she reached the counter, she waited for the clerk to ring her up and looked for Dean.
"Your boyfriend in bathroom," the clerk said in stilted English. His lips spread into a broad grin. "I wait for his stuff too?"
"No, no, I'll pay for mine," she assured, hoping her expression wasn't to aghast. It was only natural, she supposed, for people to assume that two members of opposite sexes were dating. Especially at this late hour. Handing over the money, she picked up one of the coffees and took a fortifying sip. "Would you tell him I'm in the car, please?" she requested, smiling her thanks when the man promised he would.
She was still brushing snow from her shoulders to the sound of the windshield wipers scraping back and forth when the passenger door opened and Dean slid in.
"Hey," he laughed, balancing his large cup of coffee between his thighs as he placed his bag on the floor. "That guy thought you were my girlfriend."
"Did you correct him?"
"Nah. It's not like we'll ever see him again. Besides, I was too busy making sure he didn't fucking shortchange me." As he spoke, he leaned to one side and pulled out his wallet. It was then she noticed that he had a few bills clutched in his hand.
She removed her coat and was about to put it in the back when he slipped it from her grasp and did it for her. His own followed, and he returned her smile, adjusting the cap on his head.
"How are we on gas?"
"Full. Brie filled up when we got here this morning."
"Great. Let's roll."
"Seatbelt?" she prodded, buckling her own.
He nodded, somehow managing to strap himself in as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
She waited for two seconds then cleared her throat. "Window?"
"Alright, alright. Fuck," he muttered, flicking the switch so the barest of cracks appeared at the top. It did little to dissipate the cloud of smoke above his head. "Can we go now? Or do I need to get out and tuck in my fucking shirt first?"
Rolling her eyes, she didn't bother to answer and put the car in reverse. Within seconds she heard his fingers drumming on the armrest and, from the corner of her eye, saw his head start to bob up and down. The volume on the radio increased and she inwardly groaned.
It was going to be a long night.