Two

Brock and Paul paced back and forth in Brock's locker room, the two of them fuming and murmuring like madmen. Just where in the hell was Celeste?

"You need to keep that thing of yours on a tighter leash, Brock," Paul lectured him sternly. "I don't even understand why you bring her out here with you! The only thing she does is cause a fucking distraction."

Brock could only nod numbly in agreement. More and more, he was wondering just what this whole arrangement was doing to their relationship. He had asked her to quit her job and follow him. She was young and naive and head over heels in love with him, so she dropped everything to follow him, only to find herself locked up in the locker room like a bird in a gilded cage. Brock found lately that he was becoming more and more aggressive with her, trying to keep her in line for nothing more than talking to people and wandering around backstage.

The door opened and Celeste walked into the room, holding a white Styrofoam cup of coffee. The instant she walked in, they were looming over her. Paul slammed the door behind her and turned his gaze to Brock. "Oh, look who finally decided to show up!" he announced, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman were fuming in Brock's locker room, pacing back and forth like madmen. Where the hell was Celeste?

"Paul..." she started. He cut her off by slapping her coffee cup out of her hand. It flew across the locker room, hitting the floor and exploding in a flash of caramel. Her eyes widened as she stared at the puddle of coffee.

"I don't know if you noticed this, sweetheart, but your boyfriend is very, very busy preparing himself for his upcoming match with the Undertaker," Paul informed her. "He doesn't have time to be chasing your ass around the arena." His face was contorted in an ugly snarl. Spittle flew from his bloated lips as he spoke. She looked to Brock, silently pleading with her eyes to act as some kind of buffer, but wasn't all that surprised to find his blue eyes were as cold as Paul's. At one point, when the madness had started, Brock had been afraid that she would leave him. The more she stuck around, the more assured he was that she was going nowhere.

"I just went for coffee..." she said weakly. Her tone was so quiet, Brock almost didn't hear her. Her eyes stayed on the coffee on the floor. The scent of coffee and creamer tickled at her nostrils. Since teaming up with Paul Heyman, Celeste noticed a terrible change in her long-time boyfriend. As a result, she found herself retreating further and further into herself when they were around. She felt like Brock had sold his soul to the devil the moment he agreed to let Paul be his manager.

"I don't care if you went to Timbuktu, Celeste, we can't have you distracting Brock all the goddamn time. He's got big things going on!"

"Then why am I here?" she asked. Brock's face darkened. The smile on Paul's face was sickeningly sweet.

"You're here because you want to be here, remember?" Brock reminded her. She looked over at him, surprised to find a stranger standing before her. More and more, her opinion of him was changing and her level of respect for him was diminishing. The truth was, the more they treated her terribly, the less she wanted to be there. They just weren't taking no for an answer. She had fought with Brock before coming out this time around. He had laid the law down, and now she was here, wishing she had just stayed home.

At the end of the night, Mark had changed into his regular clothing of black jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. Sliding his leather jacket on over the sweatshirt, Mark sighed. His mind was back on Celeste. She had seemed almost terrified of the idea that Brock and Paul would catch her with him. He understood her worry, since they were rivals, but it felt like there was more to it than that.

College sweethearts. Mark knew that was why it was so hard for Celeste to walk away from him. They had been together a long time. She saw him pursue his dream, and she wanted to see him enjoy the fruits of his labor. He was pretty sure she was the type that thought she'd get the picket fence and the kids with him. Mark shook his head, trying to push the thoughts of Celeste Marlowe out of his head. It wasn't good for anyone in this situation if he started paying too much attention to her.

There was a knock on his locker room door. His gaze shifted. "Yeah?"

The door opened, and John Layfield, known affectionately backstage as Bradshaw, walked in. "Hey, man."

"Hey. What's up?"

"A bunch of us are going drinking tonight. You should come with us."

"Nah, not tonight, man. I'm okay," he declined, adjusting his bag over his broad shoulder. "I'm jet-lagged like you wouldn't believe. How about the next show?"

"I'm holding it to you, Mark."

"You do that, Bradshaw. Have a few shots for me tonight." Since his divorce, John had been on the bar scene more than he usually was. Mark wasn't too worried about him. At three hundred pounds and six-seven, John was an imposing force to be reckoned with. John bid him farewell and disappeared. Mark took a look around the locker room to make sure that he didn't forget anything. With a sigh he readjusted his bag and left, shutting off the lights behind him.

"What are you still doing here? What's going on?"

Celeste jumped at the sound of his voice. Mark noticed she was shaking and almost in tears. He cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, breathe easy. You know I'm not going to hurt you." She nodded and exhaled, her body seemingly deflating in front of him.

"I got into a fight with Brock and Paul, and well...they...well, they left me here."

"What?" Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's fine. This isn't the first time they've done this, believe it or not. They do this more often than I should really admit. I just have to call a cab, go back to the hotel and let them yell at me a little bit more." She sighed. "What a glamorous life, that of a pro wrestler's girlfriend."

"Hey - I take offense to that," Mark informed her. "We're not all total assholes."

She laughed. "Sorry. I don't mean to offend you."

"So, explain to me, Celeste: how did Heyman sink his claws into your man?"

"He approached Brock while he was working down in OVW," Celeste told him, running a hand through her caramel-colored hair. "I wasn't at the show, but Brock called me afterwards and he was all excited about it. Heyman promised Brock that he'd see him to the top of the WWE. He assured him that he had Vince begging Paul to bring Brock up to the main roster, that he wanted to fast-track Brock to the very top of the business."

"What did you think, Celeste?"

She exhaled, her breath a pale white puff in the cold September night. "I thought it sounded like he was about to sell his soul to the devil," she replied. "But how do you tell that to the love of your life when he's so happy that his dreams are about to materialize?" Mark could see she was torn. Brock had obviously changed.

"Are you in a rush to get back to the hotel?" he asked.

"Honestly? No," she answered. Mark chuckled. "Paul is going to wig out until he leaves, and then Brock will calm down and act a little more human towards me. We'll fall asleep together watching a movie, and then everything will reset in the morning." Mark was taken aback by the dry tone in her voice.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I haven't had time to eat anything since I got off the plane. Why don't you join me for dinner?"

Celeste's face took on a contemplative tone. "Oh, Mark, that's a bad idea, and you know it." She shook her head. "If word got back to those two that I'm even in the same vicinity as you, I'm as good as dead. Besides, I know them. They're expecting me back at the hotel very soon."

"At least let me give you a ride," he offered. "It's really the least I could do. I feel somewhat responsible for what happened."

"I can't do that. If they hear your bike pulling up..." She shook her head. "Don't worry about me, Mark. I'm a big girl, and I've been putting up with this since Brock was on Raw. It's not like he hits me or anything, so breathe easy."

"It still doesn't make how he treats you right, Celeste, and I know you know that," he told her. She shrugged, but she knew he was right.

"Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me tonight, Mark. I really have to get going though. Have yourself a good night."

"You too, Celeste. You ever need anything, I'm not hard to find." She nodded and flashed him a heartwarming smile.

"I'll keep that in mind." She turned her back to him and walked into the night. He sighed. This wasn't good at all.