Twelve

Brock rolled off Torrie Wilson, who was coming down from the instant high that he had just given her. Laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his hotel room, all Brock could think about was Celeste. The truth was, he could care less about Torrie, a blonde Diva who in secret was referred to as the Company Bicycle. It was empty, meaningless sex. At the moment, he wondered what Celeste was doing with Mark. He wasn't stupid; no matter how much Mark denied it, or what the others said backstage, he knew that she had run to him.

"Oh, Brock," Torrie breathed, "that...was...incredible." Brock snorted. He could care less about what she had to say. If he wanted his ego stroked, he'd let Paul take the lead.

He wondered how Celeste had found out that he was screwing around with other Divas while he kept her cooped up in the locker room. She was so sweet, young and naive that she never thought to leave and go looking for him. She believed he was being faithful. After all the time they had been together, she never would have suspected, let alone accused him, in a million years of cheating on her. Until she'd met him.

He felt Torrie's fingers work their way up his arm. She enjoyed the way his muscles twitched under her touch. She placed a kiss on his chest. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. He remained silent, staring up at the ceiling, his blue eyes vacant. He didn't feel she was a "great lay"; the truth was that he cheated on Celeste because he knew he could get away with it. Celeste was long gone, and he had tension to relieve. Being the champion was a heavy burden; he was always training.

He was worried about finding Celeste. Her own family hadn't even heard from her. He had spent the last several days tormenting her brother Jacob. After a while, Brock realized that Jacob hadn't been lying, that he really had no idea where to find his sister. He planned to see Celeste's sister Elise when he got some time off. They were as close as sisters could be; he was certain Elise would help him find her.

Torrie sat up, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. She was fuming. "Fuck this," she murmured under her breath, reaching for her black negligee.

"What?" Brock asked with an agitated sigh, watching her slide the garment on over her head. "Torrie, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm leaving. What does it look like? It's one thing to be your sidepiece, Brock, but she's fucking gone. And from the looks of it, I'm not going to compare to her in any way, shape or form." Brock snorted.

"Are you fucking serious?" he grumbled. She did have a point; he loved Celeste. Even if things were sour between them, and even if he had done some truly reprehensible things to her, he still loved her. He watched Torrie vacantly as she slid her jacket on over her negligee. She buttoned and tied it up, an ugly scowl marring her beautiful features. She was shaking her head.

"Aren't you going to fucking say something?" she snapped. She was half-hoping he would quell her insecurities and convince her to stay. But he scoffed.

"You're still here?"

"Oh my God - you're a real fucking pig," Torrie snarled. "No wonder Celeste left you."

That got a reaction out of him. Brock sat up, ready to get out of the bed. Torrie knew she had crossed the line and was gone in a flash, leaving Brock standing naked in the middle of his hotel room, fuming at the closed door.

Celeste stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a plain white cotton nightgown, brushing her hair. She sighed she was a little younger than Brock, but she dressed like an elderly woman. She sighed. No wonder Brock cheated, she thought bitterly, brushing hard on a knot. How the hell does a woman in a granny nightie compete with girls in garters? Celeste shook her head and put the brush down on the dresser.

Pulling back the thick purple blankets with the gold crescent moons, Celeste slid under the covers, resting her head against the matching pillow case. She could feel hot tears burning behind her eyelids. There was a knock on the door. She straightened herself, wiping the tears from her eyelids and forcing a smile on her face. "Come in!"

The door opened. Mark walked into the room. "Hey. Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to come and make sure you're comfortable," he told her. He sat down at the edge of the bed. "Are you going to be okay? I'm pretty worried about you. You were really quiet at dinner."

"I'm as all right as I'm going to be, I guess," she replied, biting her lower lip. She really didn't know what to say to Mark about the situation. "I guess I'm still just so very tired..."

He brushed a strand of caramel hair out of her face. A soft smile snaked across his features. "I understand. If you need anything, I'm down the hall, all right?" She nodded. He stood. "I'll see you in the morning, Celeste. Get some rest." She nodded and watched as he left the room. When the door closed, Celeste flopped back down onto the bed. God, why does everything have to be so fucking awkward?

The bedroom door burst open.

Celeste sat up swiftly, her eyes widening in fear as Brock stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing. His lips were curled back into the ugliest snarl she had ever seen. His body moved up and down with ragged breaths. She scrambled to get out of the bed, but he was on top of her in a flash, pinning her roughly to the mattress. She yelped.

"Did you really think you were going to get away from me, Celeste?" he asked her. She squirmed and thrashed underneath him as he began to rip at her nightgown. "Huh?"

"Mark!" she screamed. She squirmed and cried out. Brock's breath was hot on her neck. She kept screaming, her cries silenced when he brought his mouth down over hers.

"Celeste! Jesus Christ, woman, wake up!"

Celeste's eyes flashed open. She continued to scream and struggle initially, stopping when she looked into Mark's green eyes. She looked around the bedroom before ripping herself out of his grasp, moving further up to the bed until she had to hold onto the headboard to stay in her spot. Her breathing was hitched and labored, her chest rising and falling quickly with each attempt to suck in a breath.

"Calm down, Celeste. It's just me."

"He...he was here. Fuck!" Mark cocked an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"Brock?" She let go of the headboard and slid down to the pillow. She wrapped her arms around herself. "He was in here. I saw him."

"You were having a nightmare," he informed her gently. "There's only you, me and Zeus in this house. Trust me."

"Mark, I saw him! I felt his breath on me. I felt him pin me down..." she lost her train of thought and silenced as Mark gathered her into his arms and held her tightly. He rocked her back and forth. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt.

"Look, honey, if you're really convinced he's here, we'll scout the perimeter, and I'll show you that he's not here. The guy has no idea where I live."

"Like it's hard for him to find out," she retorted. Her body shook violently with terror.

"Look, if it'll make you feel any better, you can come stay with Zeus and I in my room." She sighed, pulling away from him and nodding.

"That might be a good idea," she told him, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Jesus Christ, I'm really losing it."

"You're not losing it, you've just been through a lot," he assured her. "Come on." He stood. She got out of bed and he draped a comforting arm around her, leading her out of the room. She constantly looked back at the bed. She could still feel his breath in her ear, and it freaked her out.

"You must think I'm a real wuss."

"I don't think you're a wuss," Mark chuckled, settling her into the left side of his bed. Zeus, his Mastiff, was rested along the edge of the bed. "Your head is just reacting to everything that's happened." He climbed into the right side of the bed, settling under the covers before turning off the light. "Frankly, I'd be worried if you weren't a little upset."

"I should have seen this all coming with Brock, Mark," she sighed, staring into the darkness.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how in the hell am I supposed to compete with women who spend their days in next to nothing? Brock wants the glamor and the perks and the beautiful women...everything this life has to offer him. I should have known that eventually, the happy picture would fade out, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why did I think Brock would stay faithful? Because he told me he would? This business changed him, Mark, and it wasn't for the better. And I kind of knew that. But I understood that he had the wrestling credentials to succeed here, and there wasn't a huge, lucrative career for him in amateur." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to rant."

"Don't worry about it. You need to get it out somehow," he told her. "Look, I'm not going to make excuses for Brock, or for his cheating. But this road that he's taking...a lot of men have taken this road. The fast lifestyle, the easy drugs, the cheap women. It's kind of the seedy side of the business."

"You ever walk that path, Mark?" she asked, rolling onto her side. The dog made an inaudible noise and stared up at Mark and Celeste. He sighed.

"Yeah, when I was young and real stupid. But there was a difference."

"And what would that be?"

"For one, I wasn't with anybody." She nodded. He sighed. "I know you're worried, hon, but don't be. You're perfectly safe here." She nodded, but he knew he didn't have her convinced. Her trust, her faith was shaken. And she was in total fear of the idea that Brock would find her.