A/N: Another late update. Sorry. Been focusing on packing up to move out of my place, plus I put out a one-shot called 'Boss Lady', if anyone's interested. Hope you get to read it and let me know your thoughts! :D
Thank you to mitchy21, Flash96, darkcloud77, Pinayprincesa, Lucy1029, 33, CFierce116, Bharm, CrymsonWyldStyle, BillionDollarPrinceStephanie, ChelleLew, princessreigns, shamonticupcake, CarolReigns, benova13, LetItReign, mnm, ItReignsJustice-619, DeeMarie426, Guest, squawswarpath, fenner82, Chermayne, Siren's Call To The Dead, ApSnowball, sixxyb, JxTina, justkimmy, vegas angel baby, nikki1335, Shield316 and PassionWriter101 for reviewing. Wow, that's a lot of names…thank you all so much for taking the time to express your thoughts on this story. Very grateful. I'll keep saying that because it's the truth. :)
Rest in peace, Dream. Legend.
T.K. hitched his duffel bag on his shoulder and let out a deep breath. This was it. This was what he gave up Mason Hill University for. All that was standing in between him and his dream of making it in the WWE was the closed door to a building that looked like an abandoned warehouse. He wanted to ask himself what in the hell he was thinking, giving up college to do this, but the time for questions was long gone, especially now that he was now thousands of miles away from home and in Des Moines, Iowa, home of the fledgling Black & The Brave Wrestling Academy.
It had been a very busy couple of months for the teenager prior to his graduation from high school. As soon as he recovered from his injury, he found odd jobs here and there, working hard to raise money for his near-three thousand dollar tuition for his training while studying for finals at the same time. It was tough, very tough…but he had already made up his mind that this was what he had to do, needed to do. Joe had been kind enough to chip in about half the money for his tuition, and the day after he graduated, T.K. kissed his tearful mother and sister goodbye and embarked on the multiple-hour train ride to the Midwest. He arrived in the early morning, and then found a taxi to take him to his desired destination. And now here he was, two days after leaving home, all alone for the first time in his life, and truthfully, now that it was sinking in, he was petrified.
He'd never been anywhere so quiet. T.K. looked around the parking lot. There were only a couple of cars around. This town simply did not look conducive for wrestling training, or any form of social activity. Every street he'd turned on looked the same. Nearly every road was lined with trees, littered with cattle and sheep, tall grass, and the occasional farm – very different from the life he knew. But that was probably the least of his problems. There was the small matter of not getting his ass handed to him on the first day of training.
Taking another deep breath, T.K. advanced toward the entrance, lugging the carry-on he borrowed from Joe behind him. He was low on sleep but he was wide awake and alert. He just needed to stop his palms from sweating, because he knew he'd have to shake hands with someone and if they sensed he was nervous it could be a minus for him. He wiped his palms absently over his sweatpants and pushed open the front door.
The first thing he saw was the walls in the entranceway, decorated with pictures of Colby and his business partner Marek Brave as young men starting out in the wrestling business. He was amazed by how skinny Colby looked, which honestly by T.K.'s standards was still muscular, but it was nothing compared to what the WWE Superstar looked like now. A little further down the hall were pictures of Colby's individual accomplishments, as ROH champion, NXT champion, and as WWE tag team champion with Joe. It was obvious the Iowa native had come a long way. T.K. dreamed that one day his own pictures would grace these walls when he made it big like Colby. The thought made his stomach flip and eased his nervousness. He could do it. It wasn't going to be easy – it seemed like an unfortunate coincidence that minorities, especially African-Americans, did not often ascend to the very top of the wrestling mountain, meaning he was already on the back foot, so to speak. But T.K was determined. He hadn't survived getting shot for nothing. He would prove everyone wrong, from his deadbeat-ass father to his skeptics. And he would start here.
He walked into a vast plane of grey, from the walls to the floor to the ceiling. Gym equipment was stationed around the warehouse, and there was a gaping empty space in the middle of the room. But there was no wrestling ring. T.K. figured it was situated somewhere else. Three young men who looked about his age sat in a corner, each of their gazes fixed on a laptop the student in the middle was holding. Two girls stretched each other next to the gymnastic rings. It was a relaxed atmosphere at the moment, but it was still early in the morning. Surely the work was about to begin soon.
As he came nearer, everyone stopped to stare at him. T.K.'s status as a star athlete back in high school always made him the center of attention, which he was used to and very much enjoyed, of course. But now, with completely new faces whose gazes were more scrutinizing than admiring, it wasn't as fun. Clearing his throat, he locked eyes with the three boys huddled together. "Hi. I'm T.K. I'm a new student here," he started then stopped, realizing how dumb he must have sounded.
The guy holding the laptop brushed his sandy blond hair and raised a brow. "You're late. Training began yesterday."
He knew that. He hadn't known he would be traveling for nearly two days. "I know. Coming all the way here from Tampa wasn't the easiest," he answered.
The one on the left, a dark-haired kid with way too much gel in his spiked hair, scoffed at what he believed was an excuse. "Well, if you wanna be in this business, that's not gonna cut it," he said snootily. "You arrive late to a show, you get replaced. Like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "You think you can get away with that cuz you're some kinda hot shot? Cuz you know Roman Reigns? Huh?"
At the mention of Joe's name, T.K.'s face fell, his anger starting to flare. The overly gelled kid sneered as he flexed his muscles. "Yeah, we know who you are. We know your mom's dating Roman Reigns and we know you know Seth Rollins. But if you think that's gonna get you preferential treatment around here you got another thing coming."
"My personal life ain't none of your damn business." T.K. said, a tinge of aggression to his voice. "I'm late. I apologize. Y'all ain't gotta be asses about it." He never thought his personal life would have followed him all the way up here, but he guessed it was naïve to think that. Still, bringing up his mother and her relationship was uncalled for and petty in his eyes, which narrowed as he watched all three of them stand up and approach him. They were all taller and bigger than he was. T.K. could sense everyone else in the gym watching with bated breath, no one making a move to stop them. But he didn't need any help. He was from the 'hood; he didn't need wrestling maneuvers to wipe the floor with these jabronis. He'd endured many an ass-whooping from his mother; he could surely tale on these three.
The blond kid came up to him, his friends backing him up. Yeah, what a tough guy. "You think we're asses now, wait until we start training," he said, smirking, "Your new daddy won't be around to help you out when we bust your balls."
"And you better hope your daddies are around to pick you up when I kick all three of you outta this gym and back to whatever hole you crawled out from."
T.K. whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice. A clearly unimpressed Colby was walking towards them, along with another man T.K. identified as Marek Brave, their head trainer. "How 'bout you back off. I won't tell you again," said Marek, glaring at each of them.
Neither student hesitated, taking a step away from T.K. Casting a warning gaze at them, Colby then fixed his brown gaze on T.K. "You're late," he said sternly. "You had the schedule sent to you long beforehand so you have no excuse. It better not happen again."
It wasn't lIke he expected any special treatment from Colby, but to be dressed down like that in front of everyone was slightly humiliating. His eyes fell to the ground. "Never again. I promise," he muttered. What should have been a great first experience made him want to crawl away and hide. There was a lot of attention focused on him now and for the first time in his life, he hated it.
"Good." Colby looked around at the new students. "Everyone, this is T.K. Morgan. He'll be joining you in training to become a professional wrestler. Like the rest of you, T.K. is a student, eager to learn his craft, and I expect you to treat him with respect, just like I expect him to do the same to you. T.K., I see you've already met Patrick and Eric." Colby pointed at each of them, and the sandy-haired jabroni, Patrick, curled his upper lip in response while Eric, the one with too much hair gel, waved sarcastically at him. T.K. scowled, some choice words at the tip of his tongue, but he could only voice them out if he wanted to be formally blacklisted.
"Now that you're fully acquainted, I'm gonna need you three to shake hands."
Marek waved his finger at the three young men, all of whom gaped at him, unsure they heard him right. But the trainer looked serious and so did Colby, both men crossing their arms decisively. "If you can't trust the people standing in this room right now, then there's no one you can trust. Now shake hands," Marek repeated, adding a little more menace to his tone.
T.K. would rather shake hands with an unwashed ape, but Marek had a point. If they were going to be working together they all had to get along without question. Hesitating for a moment, he shook each of their hands quickly and dropped his hand to his side, wishing he could wash off the filth he'd just come in contact with.
Colby nodded, seemingly satisfied with the exchange. "Now that we've got that out of the way, we can get started. Can anyone remember the very first thing we did yesterday?"
For a few moments there was silence. Then, one of the students raised her hand. "We helped set up the ring," she said.
"Correct," said Colby. "We start off this morning the same way. So let's go!" He clapped his hands, and on cue the students jogged over to where the ring equipment lay, with T.K. bringing up the rear. So that explained the empty space. Wow. He'd never set up a wrestling ring before. And since all the other students had been present yesterday, he was already at a disadvantage. He already had some catching up to do and that was not necessarily a good thing.
"Tough start, huh." A female voice came from beside him, causing T.K. to turn his head. He recognized her as one of the girls that had been stretching when he walked into the warehouse. She was tall, about five foot seven, and very attractive, with a light brown skin tone and straight dark hair. Her brown eyes were slanted and her lips were wide, but in an appealing way. "Ignore those three. They think they're back in high school with their silly little clique," she said to him.
T.K. shook his head. "I know right? Sad."
"I think the word you're looking for is pathetic." She held out her hand. "I'm Angelia. Angie for short."
T.K. took the extended hand and shook it gently. "Nice to meet you Angie." Dressed in a sports bra, long tights and sneakers, with a black beanie drawn down over her head, she looked like she had just walked off of a fitness magazine cover. "This your first experience with pro wrestling?" he asked.
"Not exactly. Been at it for about four months," Angie answered, picking up one of the long ring ropes with both hands. "But I'm still not that great, so I decided it was time to find the pros. I actually wanna learn how it's done so when I get out in the ring I don't look like a complete idiot."
"Technically you got more experience than me. I've only ever done amateur wrestling," said T.K. He tried not to look like he was checking her out, but he couldn't help himself. She was very pretty, and there was a bubbliness about her personality that drew him in.
"Oh, so you're just as bad as I am. So we can be like, partners in crime, right?" she asked T.K., and he couldn't help but return her smile.
"You sure you want anything to do with me? Looks like I'm already Public Enemy number one around here," T.K. said, tossing a wary glance at Patrick, Eric and their third friend, all of whom were looking his way.
Angie rolled her eyes. "Who gives a shit what they think? Seth and Marek's opinions are the only ones I care about, so whatever." She handed him the other end of the ring ropes she was holding. "Come on, I'll show you how to connect the ropes to the turnbuckle."
T.K. followed her, smiling behind her back. Even if he'd already made a few foes, it appeared that he had also made a friend. He liked Angie's personality and she had made him feel welcomed. She seemed genuine when she spoke and her smile put him at ease. As much as he felt some attraction to her, he knew his true purpose for being here and only time would tell if she would be a help or a hindrance to his progress at Black & Brave. He hoped it was the former.
And there it was. Two words, eleven letters. Not pregnant. A myriad of emotions flooded through Sasha as she stared down at the white stick in her hand, none of those thoughts settling long enough for her to determine how she truly felt about this outcome. From being petrified at the thought of a first pregnancy in nearly a decade, to the uncertainty of her body holding up, and then finally, getting her hopes up, rallying herself mentally for something positive, only to see nothing show up on the test.
In the midst of the misery bearing down on her, she sensed an increased tension bearing down on her surroundings as well, and she was reminded that she was not alone. Joe stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. Sasha glanced up to see the look on his face, and what she saw felt like a cheap shot to the stomach. "Jeez Joe, try not to look like I've shot your fuckin' dog," she spat out, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.
Joe blinked, taken aback by the barbed statement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, as Sasha dumped the test and its packet in the trash can by the door, then nudged him out of the way to exit the bathroom.
"Take a look in the mirror," she snapped. "You should see your face and how disappointed you look."
"That's not the point right now," Joe countered. "I just want to know why you felt the need to hide the test from me."
Sasha scoffed in reply. "I wasn't hiding it. I only moved on reflex. I wasn't expecting you to be back so early."
"Bullshit. That's not enough reason. It's like you were hiding it from me. You're the one who keeps saying we should talk to each other, then you go and do something like that."
"Do what exactly, Joe? Call you up and tell you I'm taking a pregnancy test when I don't even know the goddamn results?"
"Were you gonna tell me if you were pregnant?" he asked.
Sasha gaped at him, offended. What kind of question was that? "Of course I was going to tell you. I'd only have kept quiet if I wasn't, because what's the point of saying anything? Of course I would've told you if I was pregnant. Who do you think I am? Andrea?"
Joe's features hardened right away. "Now what does she have to do with anything?"
"Oh, don't act like that ain't what you're thinking," Sasha said, "She hid stuff from you when y'all were together, now I'm doing the same thing, right? That's what you implied when you asked why I'm hidin' shit from you isn't it? It's bad enough that my ovaries might be fucked up, my boyfriend is having flashbacks of his conniving bitch ex. Are you ever gonna get over her? Is she going to hang over our heads for the rest of our relationship?"
"Jesus Sasha, when did I ever say you were her? When did you become so fuckin' good at putting words in my mouth and making assumptions? Haven't you heard the saying that assumptions make an ass out of you and me?"
"Well I'm glad you think this is funny," she snarled. She was picking a fight and she knew it. But for some reason she wasn't willing to stop, not when he was being so insensitive.
"Do I look like I'm laughing? Not once did Andrea come into my mind. You really need to quit jumping to conclusions. Have you even checked a second pregnancy test? For all we know the first one could be a false negative. It don't mean another test will necessarily say the same thing."
"And what if I take another test and it does say the same thing? Huh? Look at how you reacted to this one. Are you telling me you're not disappointed right now? That you're unhappy that I'm not pregnant?" she queried, looking him in the face, silently daring him to lie to her.
The Samoan knew that, and at this point he knew better than to be dishonest about his feelings. "Yes…yes, I am a little disappointed," he admitted, his voice shaking with barely controlled emotion. "But it's not like that."
"It's exactly like that, Joe," she contradicted brusquely. "I know what you're thinking without saying a word. Your face always gives you away. Is that what you plan on doing every time I come up with a negative? Are you gonna look at me like that again, like I destroyed your hopes and dreams? This is my reality Joe, and I told you all about it, told you about what the doctor told me after I had Mia and everything. It's highly likely that I may never have children again. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you accept this reality?"
Joe stared at his girlfriend, and then shook his head sadly. "After all this time, Sasha. After all this time together, after everything we've been through, you still don't believe in my love for you. I moved you in with me, you and the kids; I've told you I want a life with you, and that's still not enough to convince you?"
A lump grew in her throat, and Sasha wasn't sure she could speak again without bursting into tears. "People have moved out before. Something happens that ruins the relationship so bad it's irretrievable and one of them has to go. That right there-" she stabbed a finger at the trash can in the bathroom, "-might be our own personal 'irretrievable'. No matter how certain you are that it won't, that could get in the way one day and you know it."
"Wow, you sound so sure about that." His expression was tight with growing fury.
"Why do you want kids so bad anyway?" she blurted out. "Huh? Men your age are running scared at the mere thought of kids."
At this point, Joe was ready to rip his own hair out from the roots. "There you go again with that bullshit!" he said angrily, "So eager to lump me up with 'other men' and 'men my age' and everyone who's ever fuckin' hurt you in your past! For fuck's sake! I ain't Tyson! I ain't Mia's drug-pushin' dad neither! Quit treating me like I am and listen to me!"
How nice it was to be reminded of her questionable taste in men. "Why are you putting yourself through this with me?" Sasha demanded. "It's obvious I can't cut it, I can't give you what you want. I'm too fuckin' old, my body's obviously damaged. I'm holding you back from the opportunity to have a family of your own. You oughta be with someone who won't have these unnecessary complications. You've always wanted a child, your own child, and it's pretty much confirmed I can't have any more. It's not like I didn't warn you that this could happen. Well it's happened. I'm not pregnant. I probably never will be again." He hadn't seen what she saw in his eyes after he read that pregnancy test. The disappointment, the devastation, like someone had ripped the rug from underneath him again. To know she was the one that did that to him this time, killed her, because she loved him so much.
Joe stood there in disbelief, shaking his head. Enough was enough. "I know what this is all about. You're finding excuses to break up with me. You've been doing this for a while now. I thought I was insecure, but you, baby girl," he pointed a trembling finger at her, his laughter dull and empty, "You take the fuckin' cake. All these months I've been trying to convince you that I want you, that I'll never leave you, but instead you're the one who wants to leave me. That has to be what this is all about. Tell me, Sasha. Have you been looking for a way out all this time?" He stepped up to her, looming over her. Sasha did not budge, but she looked stunned, her expression as though she could not believe what he was accusing her of. But he was long past caring because he was sick of her shit. His face was flushed with emotion. "You get so damn defensive over everything! Something doesn't go your way and all of a sudden your guard is up, you put up all these fuckin' walls that don't need to be there! How many times do you expect me to break them down? I don't lift weights just so I can carry your damn baggage, you know!"
Sasha's throat was as dry as dust, his words cutting right through her insides like a pair of scissors to paper. "I don't feel like talking anymore," she whispered, her voice cold and distant. She couldn't believe how insensitive he was being. She was the one with the broken body, not him.
Joe sighed, wondering how this conversation had spiraled so out of control. All he'd wanted was to come home and be with her, only for this to happen. "Sasha..."
"I need to be alone."
"Sasha, you're being ridiculous. Come here," he said, stunned as she started to walk away from him. He lunged for her, grabbing her arm. "Sasha-"
"Don't touch me! Just leave me alone!" She yanked her arm out of his grip, and Joe's features sagged in shock. Then, in the same, swift instant, they hardened again, twisting with fury. "Fine! Let's not talk then!" he roared, "You want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone! I'll give you all the fuckin' space you want, starting now!" He picked up his carry-on luggage and headed for the door.
Sasha's insides twisted hard. Her heart rate began to accelerate. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice quavering.
Joe stopped at the door and abruptly turned around, staring at her without sympathy or pity. "Figure it out for yourself, Einstein," he retorted, ignoring the way she flinched at his punitive, callous tone as he threw her own line back at her.
"Joe…" Sasha called out to him, but he'd already slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the bedroom just like she'd not-so-nicely asked him to. Desolate, frustrated and heartbroken, she could do nothing but slump down onto the edge of the bed, cover her eyes with her hands and cry.
Joe drove his Range Rover down the road, staring blankly out ahead of him. It was still morning but a chilly wind blew down the wide street, seeping into the vehicle as it stayed out longer. But he couldn't feel the chill. All he felt was anger, hot fury boiling in his veins that he knew an hour's drive would not be sufficient to simmer it down.
He veered to the left and continued towards a deserted bridge, neither knowing nor caring where he was headed at the moment. His thoughts were rattling around in his skull like dice hard enough to invoke dizziness, until they split his head open from the inside, spilling his anger and doubts and fears onto the ground beneath him.
He could still see Sasha's face in his mind's eye, her reaction as the results of the pregnancy test sank in. Of course he was disappointed. He wanted nothing more than to start a family with her, to become husband and wife one day. He also knew she was hurt by the results of that test and he was more than willing to shove aside his own disappointment to comfort her. But she underestimated him, wrote him off not for the first time. What else did he need to do to prove he was not going anywhere no matter what? What did he have to do to fully gain her trust, to give herself to him fully and completely? Was he ever going to be good enough for her?
For the first time since they became official, he didn't think so.
He was across the bridge now, with the river streaming along below him. He ground to a halt at the side of the vehicle-friendly bridge, dragging himself out of the SUV and grabbing the stone guardrail with both hands. He took a deep breath, listening to the splash of water beneath him. This was not the way he wanted to spend his week off. He did not expect to get into a huge fight with his girlfriend that resulted in him storming out of his house. It brought back many unpleasant memories he wished could go away. He'd seen her eyes water, he'd heard her sob as he left her alone in the room they shared. Usually the sight of a single tear from her eye was enough to melt him into submission to her. But this time…nothing. He'd been too angry, too emotional – they'd both been – and even now, he wasn't sure going back to her was a good idea. And at this point in time, he did not want to.
An eternity seemed to pass before he straightened up again and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Incredibly, he had broken out in a light sweat despite the chill. The adrenaline within him was finally subsiding. With the same arm he'd wiped his face with, which suddenly felt numb and lifeless despite its movement, the Samoan dug deep into his jeans pocket, his whole body tensing when his fingers closed around a small square object.
He pulled his hand out and held it up toward his face, examining the black velvet box in his grasp. He couldn't bring himself to open it. At this rate, he wondered if even this was going to be enough for her, enough to finally convince her that he wanted forever and a day with her. But he recalled – with his heart dropping at the memory – that the mere mention of marriage had spooked her. He didn't know what to do. He was running out of options and admittedly, out of patience, and he wondered if there was any point reaching back down into the well within him to find more...if there was any left at all.
With an angry snarl, Joe squeezed the velvet box in a fist, drawing back his arm in preparation to chuck it into the river. But before he could finish off the motion, for some unearthly reason, he stopped. His arm trembled for a few agonizing seconds, then slumped back down, the arm hanging limply at his side. The Samoan's carved features creased in agony, and he bowed his head, his chest heaving painfully with every breath he took.
Shaking away his desolation – he had to if he was going to drive for an hour safely – he shoved the small box back into his pocket, then climbed back into the car and set off towards Alma's house, his intended destination. Towards his father who needed him. Since the woman he loved so much had just made it glaringly obvious that she did not.
This update took ages to write though. And I was very nervous posting it too, lol. It was kinda difficult to write but I hope I did it justice.
I know you guys must be frustrated with Jasha, and perhaps rightly so. But no relationship is ever easy, is it? Especially theirs, which is frankly, still so new. They still have a lot to work on with each other. Will they get the chance to?
For anyone who can't recall the details of Sasha's situation, I revert you back to chapter 31.
Kindly review! And also, check out the correlating ITDE story album on my profile page. Been updating it regularly in correspondence with the chapters. Hope you like it! :D
Buckle up, guys. ;)