Mark and Kat each ordered their meals and started getting to know each other. Kat looked Mark over. "So Mark, What do you do for a living? You said you only took your Harley out on the road, so obviously you travel for your job. I don't think I asked earlier." Kat sat quietly, wanting to know more about him. Mark told her that he was a professional wrestler and he almost wore the wine she was sipping when she did a spit take. It totally took her by surprise; she didn't even know that wrestling was still popular. Then she got the mental picture of him in tights and started to chuckle. She could tell right away that he was hurt by her reaction as his smile faded. "Mark, I'm so sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It just surprised me that's all. I mean, look at my job…I play music dressed provocatively and shake my ass so that men can drool over me and buy lots of alcohol. Truthfully, I've never watched wrestling, so I guess I just have a stereotype stuck in my head. Tell me about it. I really want to know." She sat back in her chair and looked at him.
"That's alright; I suppose I should be used to that reaction by now. Most people think what we do is ridiculous and fake, but it's a sport. Granted, it has a written storyline and the outcomes are decided ahead of time, but the things we do to get to that outcome, takes some skill and athleticism. You have to know what you're doing or you could seriously hurt yourself or someone else. I've been doing it for a long time now, and I can honestly say I wouldn't want to do anything else. I love the road, even though it tends to put a real strain on relationships. I love the fans, our fans are the best. Some of them love what we do so much they actually write fiction stories about us or our "personas". Some of them are quite steamy." Mark chuckled while looking at Kat. "By the way…you look great when you shake your ass, but you look even better when you're kicking someone else's." He grinned at her. That grin made Kat laugh.
"Well most guys who hit on me only like the ass shaking, so I guess I've found an upgrade! So the whole getting hit with chairs thing? Doesn't that hurt like hell…or is there like a special foam chair?" She smiled at Mark.
"No, there are no foam chairs and yes, it hurts like hell. You have to know the right spots to hit on your opponent; it makes it a little less painful, but still hurts. Trust me, I've taken a few in my days in the ring; had more than a few other injuries as well. What about you? Bouncing has some occupational hazards." He watched as Kat rolled up one of her sleeves and turned her arm around to show him a side view. A 1.5-2.0 inch scar that was just slightly jagged was there but had faded quite a bit.
"I got this from some drunken guy who came at me with a broken beer bottle; couldn't dodge him fast enough." Kat smirked. "Stitched it up myself, without pain killers, just a few shots of Jack," she looked at the scar. "Not too bad if I do say so myself." She chuckled. "So tell me Mark, was it Thomas that told you where to send the flowers?" She grinned at him again, already knowing it was.
"Now, why would I tell how I got that information? If it was someone who told me, then they would be in trouble for helping me out. I wouldn't want that to happen. On the other hand, you haven't told me how you got my cell phone number." He grinned back. "Now, it seems that we have a stalemate. We undoubtedly are two of a kind. Kat, there is one thing I wanted to know. You said you didn't really date. You're so beautiful; I can't imagine why you aren't dating all the time." He gazed into Kat's eyes; he suddenly found sadness in them.
"It's a long story, one that I don't talk about. I have a hard time with relationships, that's all I can tell you right now. I'm sorry, Mark. I had a lovely evening, and the food was excellent. I think that I should go." Kat stood and left the restaurant; Mark shocked just sat and watched her go. I'm sorry too; I'm not giving up on you. I can't. Mark waved the waiter over and asked for the bill.