musical interlude!

warning: homophobic slurs

late June 2011

Another house show was in the books, and the wrestlers had come out to play. The bar was full, but to the horror of some and the delight of others, it was karaoke night. Successions of drunken frat boys had commandeered the stage and were badly belting every dudebro anthem in sight.

Bobby, Jeremy Borash, and Elijah were sitting at a table watching all of this with differing expressions - JB was amused, Bobby was apathetic, and Elijah was horrified. As another drunken dude with an Affliction shirt mounted the stage, Elijah turned to JB and shook his head. "Who told all these assholes they could sing? Some of these guys are straight up murdering songs. I should have sent flowers ahead of time."

JB laughed and said, "I know what you mean. I might not ever listen to Journey again without wincing."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, JB, let's not go that far," Bobby threw in.

Elijah rolled his eyes at the two of them and suddenly grinned. "That's it, I'm gonna get up there. I got to at least break up this madness and show you how we do things."

"So, then, ABBA?" said JB.

"Not tonight, though I do love me some Dancing Queen and I'm not even ashamed of that. Tonight we're going with some classic R&B. Lemme make sure they've got it." Pope got up and made his way over to the podium. After a few minutes, he came back, smiling triumphantly. "They got it, and I'm up third."

"What song are you singing?" asked Bobby.

"Pretty Brown Eyes by Mint Condition. Either of you know that one?"

They both shook their heads.

"Oh, y'all in for a treat tonight. I kill this song. And I don't mean like those sad fuckers on the stage who wouldn't know how to stay on key if they were superglued to it. When I start singing, the room gets quiet and panties start dropping. You watch and see."

"I'll make sure to duck so I don't get any thongs in the back of my head," said Bobby.

"Smart move," said Elijah, taking a swallow of his beer.

After two more excruciating songs, including one where the guys' own friends booed him, the emcee announced, "And now, to the stage, The Pope D'Angelo Dinero!" Pope tipped JB a wink and a smile and swaggered up to the stage. He grabbed the mic as the backing track kicked in. They braced themselves, but Elijah had a surprisingly smooth baritone, and as his voice flowed out of the speakers Bobby was quite impressed.

Pretty brown eyes you know I see you

It's a disguise the way you treat me

Bobby spotted two women checking Elijah out, and Elijah spotted them too. He winked at both of them, and they giggled and waved. He kept on singing.

Don't tell your friends that I don't mean nothin to ya

Please don't deny the truth

Tell me right now

I know your heart is in the right place

You know I won't let you down, yeah

You can't disguise all the pounding of your heart, yeah

I see your eyes, pretty brown eyes, and you can't hide

Start to make sense and quit playing these love games

Tell me what you're gonna do, yeah

On his left, Bobby heard a woman sigh and say, "oh my." JB looked over at Bobby and said, "Maybe I should have believed him."

"I guess we learned something today. If you need some love and attention in your life, have Pope sing."

Elijah finished his song to massive applause. He acknowledged it with a bow, then a wave, and jumped off stage and came back to his seat. Three women were already waiting for him, and he invited them all to sit at the table. As soon as they sat, James and Tommy came over, each with a pitcher of beer in their hands.

"Sorry guys, no more room at the inn!" JB said. Neither he nor Bobby wanted Tommy at the table, albeit for different reasons. Tommy checked out the ladies, then looked at JB and grinned such a smug grin Bobby clenched his fists underneath the table. As Tommy opened his mouth, James cautioned him, "Don't start nothin' tonight. I'm serious. The only thing we're doing tonight is getting fucked up, alright?"

"Sure, James, whatever you say."

James sat down and a waitress appeared with glasses, as if by magic. The beer started flowing, and indeed, instead of being belligerent, Tommy started talking about music. James jumped in, throwing a comment out here and there, and occasionally looking at Bobby and JB to make sure everything was all right. JB was talking to a lady at the table. Bobby stuck to drinking his beer and listening, his mind far away, thinking of AJ. His eyes bounced up to Tommy and he wondered again if he was Bischoff's spy. Neither he nor AJ had come up with any good ways to find out, and when Bobby had tried to talk to James, James got suspicious in about 5 seconds and then changed the subject. It was weird. It was weird all around.

He took his phone out and texted AJ a simple "thinking of you" and AJ texted back, "love you, see you soon". Right on cue, Tommy asked Bobby what he thought of Pope's voice. Bobby said if he had known Elijah was that good, he'd have sat in the back and dodged all the panties. The guys roared at this, and the women smiled tolerantly. This made James get up and put in to sing Kenny Chesney's "Beer in Mexico." He didn't do nearly as well as Elijah did vocally, but his sloppy bump and grind in the middle brought him some friendly cheers.

Around 2 am, they decided to go upstairs. Elijah had been talking intensely to a lady named Jade and since he was sharing a room with JB, JB was staying up with them for a while. They all decided to pile into James's room. Bobby let slip that he was staying by himself. Tommy raised his eyebrows at this but said nothing. James suggested he switch rooms with Elijah but Bobby declined. He felt a little sad that AJ couldn't be here with him, and he figured he could escape from the party after a while and be alone.

Elijah had James and Tommy come to his room and pick up the beer he'd bought earlier, since he had a change of plans. The four of them came in the hotel room, two of them lugging twelve packs and shortly thereafter piling the bottles in the hotel sink.

"Get some ice," James told Bobby.

"Fine." Bobby got up and went for the room's ice bucket.

"No, man, go in your room and get your bucket. We need two bucketfuls. Tommy's taking this one."

"Why's he still sitting down?"

"I'm going in a minute," Tommy said.

Bobby looked over at James, a little confused, and James put his hands up and moved them away from each other. After a second, Bobby got it.

"Oh. Be right back." He left the room and went to his own, down the hall, and got his own ice bucket. As he turned to leave, his phone rang. It was AJ.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Hey, love."

"Mmmm. I like that. What are you up to tonight?"

"Hanging out with JB, Tommy, and James. Elijah was with us but he's off with a woman. Did you know he can sing?"

"No, but I'm not surprised. Pope is smooth. You hanging out with James again? I swear, lately it's like you're always in his room for something or other."

"Come to think of it, it's true. Ever since we started up, I've been talking to James. I didn't hang out with him this much even when we were teaming every night. It won't last. He's just been the guy getting us together."

"It's cool, it's not like I'm jealous or anything."

"Not even a little bit?"

AJ laughed. "Not of James. He's cool. But if you tell me about any other men, I might snap."

"Don't worry, there's no one but you."

"Mmm. Same here. I can't wait to see you. They are bound to take Crimson off sometime."

"As soon as I find out, I'm calling you. Hell, I might throw a party."

"A party?"

"A party in my pants. You're invited."

"I better be the guest of honor."

"Of course. Engraved invitations and everything."

"You really go all out."

Bobby could hear the smile in AJ's voice, and it made him both happy and lonely. "All for you. Look, I'd better go, I'm supposed to be getting ice."

"Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow if I can."

"It's a deal. Love you."

"Love you too."

They hung up, and Bobby came out into the hallway, whistling, a big smile on his face. He turned towards the ice machine, and there was Tommy, a step or two away from the machine, staring at him like he had three heads. "The hell? You're whistling?" said Tommy.

"I'm in a good mood. You didn't know I could whistle like that, eh? I have skills you've never dreamed of," replied Bobby. Tommy kept looking at him, and suddenly Bobby saw it. The look. He'd had the same look in his eyes once. It was the look of a guy who had just discovered his Kinsey number was going up. Bobby sighed inwardly. Tommy jutted out his chin, but held off on whatever he was going to say and slammed the ice machine door open. Bobby walked over to the machine and discreetly pulled his shirt up a little so that a little bit of skin showed. Tommy glanced over at him and the faintest tinge of blush rose on his cheeks, and he stabbed at the ice.

Might as well have a sign on him, Bobby thought.

"Hurry up, okay?"

"It's not my fault you took a detour," snapped Tommy. He shoveled ice into his bucket.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I got a phone call. Business always comes first."

"Or pleasure, right?"

"That too, sometimes."

"Was it from AJ?" Tommy said, smirking a little.

"No. Why are you bringing AJ into this?"

"Because I heard from a bunch of people that you and AJ had a thing."

"All of them are wrong. There's nothing going on between me and AJ. Nothing at all." The bold faced lie hurt Bobby's heart a little, but he'd rather die than give this jerk the information he was looking for. "I think you need to learn the difference between a good friend and somebody you're dating."

"I know the difference, motherfucker, and I know when someone's talking out their ass. Why don't you just admit it? I already know you're a fag."

"Shows how much you know, because I'm not. I'm happily married with kids, you know."

"That doesn't mean anything these days. You could be fucking some dude every night on the road."

"Well, that would actually make me bisexual, now, wouldn't it?"

"It's all fag shit to me," Tommy snarled. His bucket was almost full. "Either way you're a scumbag."

"You certainly have a lot of feelings about this."

"You don't even deny it. You just fucking sidestep the question," said Tommy, as he stepped back and put the top on his bucket. "If you're not a fag, then say so. Otherwise, I'm just going to know you are. And, of course, even if you deny it, I'll still know. Because it's true."

Bobby angrily grabbed the ice shovel and pulled up some cubes. "It doesn't make a damn bit of difference and that's why I'm not answering. It doesn't matter what I do, and if you quit thinking so much about what I'm doing in bed, maybe you'd be a better wrestler."

"The fuck did you say?"

"I didn't fucking stutter. You're a shit wrestler, and you're a shit person. I don't know why James wastes his time with you. You're probably his friend so you can keep tabs on me and what I'm doing, since I'm so much on your mind."

Tommy's bucket dropped to the floor as he shoved Bobby sideways. As Bobby reeled back, Tommy swung a punch at him and hit him a glancing blow on the cheek. Bobby gasped. Tommy came in again with another punch, but Bobby ducked it and punched Tommy dead in the mouth. Tommy slammed back against the soda machine, but came right back and slugged Bobby in the chest. Bobby staggered back, and Tommy hit him again, harder, this time in the shoulder. Pain bloomed in Bobby's arm and he rushed Tommy, tackling him to the floor. They rolled around until Bobby was on top, and then he pinned Tommy's legs with his knees and Tommy's arm with one hand, and then punched him square in the eye. Tommy's left arm flailed up and Bobby pinned that one too.

"Fuck you!" wailed Tommy. "Fuck you, you lying piece of shit!"

Bobby waited until he could control his anger before he spoke. He looked down at Tommy, who was bleeding from the mouth and eye, and coldly said, "Calm down." Tommy struggled and buckled underneath him, and Bobby kept holding him down. Finally, Tommy gave up, and laid there, defiance and hate and desire etched in every inch of his face.

Bobby waited a little longer, and said, "Calm now?"

"Let me up."

"Not until you cool the fuck down."

"I said, let me up!"

"Oh, so you can go back into the room and tell everybody you called me a lying piece of shit because I wouldn't say I was straight? Bet that will go over well with my friends."

Tommy averted his eyes and appeared to think for a minute. In a bit, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as Bobby; James would light him the fuck up if he told him right now. He breathed out hard and some of the fight went out of his face.

"Good. That's better. Now I'm gonna let you up, but before I do, we need to agree on a story."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because," Bobby said, carefully holding his temper in check, "we have to explain the fight. You being drunk and stupid helps."

"Fuck you."

"We'll say we fought over Motorhead. We're both kind of drunk - if we stick to the story that it was a dumbass drunken argument, we might get away with it. Everybody knows we don't like each other. But you make sure you stick to it no matter what. No slipping up a day later and telling anybody. You hear me?"

"Yeah," Tommy said. "I hear you."

"And you'll remember I did you a favor."

"The fuck you did."

"I could beat the shit out of you right now until you agree. I won't. I could beat the shit out of you right now just on general principle and tell everybody the truth, and you can bet your ass I'll come off looking better than you will."

"You called me a shit wrestler," Tommy said, sulkily.

"I did. I'm sorry. I was really pissed off but I shouldn't have said that."

Tommy was quiet for a little bit. "Well, I'm not going to apologize."

"I didn't think you would."

Tommy looked at Bobby again and seemed to be studying him. "You...you're..." he started out, but he couldn't finish the thought. Bobby waited.

"Let me up, please," Tommy said instead. This time Bobby let him up. They both went for their buckets; Bobby's was half full, Tommy's was almost empty. They refilled their buckets in silence, and walked down the hall back towards the room. Almost when they had reached the door, Tommy reached out and touched Bobby's arm.

"Bobby?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't tag you too badly, did I?"

"Well my chest and arm are a little fucked, and my cheek is swelling up, but I'll be all right. I look better than you do."

"Hmm. I guess." Tommy rubbed his hand over his eye. It was swelling very badly. "I should put some ice on this."

"Yep."

Tommy looked at Bobby, and seemed on the verge of saying something else, but instead he only said, "Motorhead."

"My favorite fucking band, Tommy. Motorhead is serious business."

"I won't forget it."

"You better not."

"I mean the story, too."

"Me too."

They opened the door and went inside, and James, predictably, threw a fit. "The fuck happened to you two?"

"He talked shit about Motorhead," said Bobby, handing off his bucket to Tommy, who took both buckets and poured them over the beer in the sink. Tommy reached in and wrapped ice in the plastic bags, and when he came out, he handed one to Bobby and put the other over his eye. JB's eyes widened, but he stayed quiet.

"Motorhead? You two fucks fought like that over a band?" said James.

"You've fought over less," Bobby remarked.

"Yeah, but I'm a fucking crazy ass."

"So is he."

Tommy didn't say anything, just slung himself in the chair and glowered. James rounded on him. "The fuck were you doing, fighting him over Motorhead?"

"Dunno," Tommy muttered.

"Both of y'all ain't that fuckin' dumb, getting into a fight over that shit. I can see if you got into a fight like that, Tommy, but Bobby, seriously, you throwing elbows over a band, now?"

"Not with a normal person, no."

"Hmm." James scratched his beard.

Tommy asked, "Can we just let it go?"

"Of course you want to let it go since you got your ass whipped. I could have told you not to fuck with Bobby. It's always them quiet ones that you have to watch out for."

"He knows now," Bobby pointed out. JB snickered.

James looked at both of them, and then sighed. "Y'all stupid. Did y'all at least get the damn ice?"

"Yeah," Tommy said. "It's in with the beer."

"Good. Damn. Let's get to drinking so we can forget this fuckin' mess."

And so they did. But as Bobby finished his beer, he caught a determined glower in Tommy's eyes, and he knew this wasn't finished yet.