Seventeen

"It's not like this is a date, Celeste; he's just trying to be nice."

She had been whispering it to herself throughout the day, but she couldn't stop herself from being nervous at the idea of going out to dinner with Mark. She hadn't really gone out with anybody in a long time; Brock had stopped taking her out on dates years ago, instead leaving her behind while he spent all of his time in the gym and in wrestling rings and tournaments. It hadn't really bothered Celeste; she kept her standards pretty low in relationships so she wasn't disappointed with the outcome. She knew Brock was trying to make a career for himself in wrestling, and she didn't want to stand in the way of that. She had spent six and a half years being perfect for a man who wouldn't make the same sacrifices for her. It took her being away from him for her to see that.

Celeste was frustrated that she couldn't figure out how to do her hair. Nothing seemed too look good. She tried curling it; when that failed, she washed it out and had it straightened ridiculously. Still didn't look good. She was trying so hard to look perfect for her night out, but nothing she attempted looked good enough.

Mark was downstairs, taking care of a few things with Zeus. He had told Celeste to dress up; she was going to have a good night out.

Staring in the mirror, she decided to just leave her hair down and tousled it a little bit. She still didn't think it looked very good; but she would just have to live with it. She applied some foundation to her face, relieved that it covered up the very pale bruises on her face. She began applying her makeup. "He must think I'm taking forever," she said softly, smiling in spite of herself. She grabbed the black spaghetti-strapped dress hanging on the back of the door and slid it on. She liked the way it fit against her curves. She sighed; she felt like such an idiot.

"Good God...how much time does one woman need?" Mark's voice asked from the other side of the door. A blush crawled up her neck into her cheeks as she quickly applied some mascara and some lip gloss. She gave herself one more look in the mirror before unlocking the door.

Mark felt his breath catch when he saw her. She looked great. "Do I look all right?" she asked.

"For how much time it took you to get ready?" She slapped his arm and he laughed. She shook his head. "You look fine. Don't worry."

"How's your hand feeling?" she asked. He shrugged.

"It fades in and out. It's some pretty heavy duty shit the doctor gave me," he told her, ushering her down the stairs with a hand on her spine. He felt her tense up under his touch, but he was determined to be a gentleman and give her a nice night out.

**

"I'm going to be at No Mercy."

Mark just about choked on his food. They were sitting in a restaurant that Mark used to go to when he was a kid with his parents. It had been almost touching watching Mark's face light up as he told Celeste about the place, about some of the memories he had there with his parents. It was definitely a side of the Undertaker she didn't think was there.

He swallowed and straightened out his breathing. He cocked an incredulous eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"I have this bad feeling, Mark. God only knows what he's doing to my family right now." Mark nodded. "It's something I have to do. It's nice to hide out here, and everything, but what am I going to do? Live the rest of my life hiding out?" She had a point; it was nice coming home to somebody, but he had to remember she had a life that she needed to rebuild at the moment.

"You've taken the entire situation really well, Celeste," he informed her. "I know a lot of women who would crack in this situation."

She shrugged. "I guess you realize sometimes that when it's over, it's over." She shuddered as she thought about the way Brock had treated her the last night in their hotel room; how he had handcuffed her to the bed and had forced himself on her, as if he were marking his alpha male domination over her. He nodded. She took a sip of her drink.

"Well, if you need anything when we get to the arena that day, just let me know. You know Brock won't be doing anything while he's out in the ring." She nodded. "But if you'd like, I'll leave you with a couple of the guys just to be safe, post-match. It's not going to be pretty." Celeste nodded. It didn't take a rocket scientist to tell her that. Mark wanted revenge for Brock breaking his hand, and Brock wanted to beat Mark into telling him where she was.

He could sense her demeanor darkening fast. He sat back. "So, tell me a bit about your family. You have siblings?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Jacob and Elise. Elise is a real estate agent and Jacob is a construction worker."

"You the oldest?"

She shook her head. "Middle. Jacob's the youngest. He's twenty-one. Elise is thirty." She took a bite out of her pasta. "What about you?"

"I have three brothers. They're kind of scattered to the four winds. We don't get to talk as much because I'm on the road all the time. But they think it's pretty sweet their brother scares the hell out of millions on a weekly basis." She laughed.

"That's definitely an accomplishment," she told him. "Which side do you prefer? The motorbikes or the eyeliner?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." He shook his head, laughing. "I like both sides. The business is always changing, and so there's nothing wrong with evolving. If I manage to go back to the Original Deadman stuff down the line, that's great. If not, I like what I'm doing." She nodded. She could see the way his face lit up every time he talked about his career; he truly loved what he was doing. "It's been almost twelve years since I started in WWE, and I still love the feeling of stepping through the curtains."

"It must be a rush."

"You have no idea. And at WrestleMania? Forget it. You're lucky if you even get any sort of sleep at the end of the night. Knowing you've performed at the biggest show of the year."

"Have you ever been in the main event?"

He nodded. "So much pressure, but it's that good kind of pressure, you know? And at the end of the night, when you walk through the curtain and Vince and the guys are clapping and celebrating that the show went off without a hitch, you feel like you were really a part of something."

"Did those tattoos hurt?" she asked, motioning to the wizards, castles and skulls up his arms.

"No," he said. "Not half as much as some people would think. You don't have any tattoos?"

She shook her head. "I wanted to when Brock started getting them, but he says they make women look cheap." Mark scoffed. "What?"

"He's a real tool," Mark murmured. "Look, what say we go for your first tattoo tonight?"

"What? Oh, Mark, I don't know..."

"Come on. We'll head out and get your first tattoo tonight and then we'll go shoot some pool. How does that sound?" The truth was, as soon as he heard Brock was against it, he was all for it. Anything to stick it to Brock Lesnar. At the moment, he didn't think it was possible to hate somebody half as much as he hated Brock Lesnar. "Come on. What do you say?"

"I say you're a bad influence." He laughed.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." Celeste shook her head.

"Maybe before No Mercy. But I am so not in the mood to be prodded and poked and colored tonight." Mark laughed. "I mean it, Mark; you're a terrible influence. If I don't put my foot down now, I could be looking like you before the show."

"Ouch."

"You know what I meant." The two of them were lost in the conversation, eating dinner and laughing. But in the back of Celeste's mind, she still sensed that things were going to get a lot worse before they got any better.

**

"Thanks, Mark. Tonight was a lot of fun," she replied as he unlocked the front door and ushered her into the house. Zeus came charging into the main hallway and Celeste leaned down to pet him. She stood to her feet and Mark helped her out of her coat, hanging it on a nearby coat rack. "I haven't had a night out in so long."

He smiled. "Well, I'm glad you had fun. Still wish you would have gone for that tattoo though." She shook her head and laughed. He stopped her before she made her way up the stairs. "Look...about No Mercy...are you sure that's what you want to do?"

She sighed. "No, I don't really want to do it. I'd rather disappear on Brock and just be gone forever. But let's be honest; he's not going to let that happen. If I don't go to Arkansas and at least confront him, next time it could be a lot worse than your hand that gets broken."

"Okay. I just want you to be careful, though."

"You don't need to worry about me, Mark," she assured him. "I'll be fine." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." With that, she made her way up the stairs as Mark watched after her. He hoped to hell she knew what she was doing.