Chapter 39
"I don't even think so, if I can't nuke it, or eat it out of a can, I'm not interested." He drawled, his ears still bright red. Leaning back in his chair, Mark surveyed her, beginning to smirk. "Maybe I oughta just marry you and keep you locked in my kitchen. Won't have to ever worry about it then, will I?" Just to see her startled movements and, the way her face turned red then white, was so worth it. "Not funny?"
"W-WHAT?! No! No that's not funny at all!"
This man was out to give her a stroke, Emery was convinced and had to calm herself down all over again. Marriage was not even…she hadn't even THOUGHT about the possibility. Mark had recently gotten his divorce finalized and he was in a relationship with her.
"I – um – I don't think that's – now's not the time to discuss something like that." Stammering over her words just solidified how WRONG that 'joke' was. Emery stirred her sauce and immediately leaned back against him as soon as she felt his strong arms encircle her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "What would you do if you were in my shoes, Mark?"
"Well darlin', the way you're stuttering and stammering tells me you're taking it as more than a joke." He measured her and how she had reacted. If Mark had been serious about marriage, he wouldn't have done it in a kitchen and had a bit more romance in him than that. "I don't know, darlin', you don't want to go back, so don't. Stephanie can come take over for a bit." Vince's daughter.
"You caught me off guard with that, fucker." Emery grinned up at him, leaning her head back enough to accept a soft kiss from him and shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to go back. I'd love to go back and write for the company again. I'd love to travel with you and spend more time with you. There's a lot of pluses to go with this decision. But I'm also scared someone will come after me again like Batista. I made a lot of enemies with my lines from the past and I just don't wanna cause any more trouble." Stephanie would do a piss-poor job and Emery knew it, which is why Cheryl begged her to take the position. "I also don't want to rely on you, Randy and Paul to save my ass should something happen."
"Well, you're just going to have to suck it up and rely on us until you get some self-defense classes under your belt. No point in your learning wrestling shit, or submission holds, that requires strength you don't have." He pointed out the obvious. "I can bring an instructor to train you in self-defense, darlin'. Train on the road." Mark buried his face in her throat. "Come back with me, my Queen."
It was incredibly hard to focus on cooking when he did that and Emery closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his goatee and lips brushing against her neck. "You're not making this easy to turn down…" She murmured, knowing that's exactly why he was doing it and sighed softly, not wanting to be away from him. "Alright." Making this decision based off of her relationship probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but Mark was the sole reason she would return to the WWE. "I want you to do it. You don't have to show me wrestling holds, but…I want you to teach me how to defend myself if I'm ever attacked." The armbar she already knew how to do and would've dropped Batista with it at Backlash if it wasn't for her instincts kicking in to nail him in the genitals first. "I should call Vince and let him know…" Then she had to pack for the road. "And Cheryl…"
"First off, I'm not teaching you anything, Emery. You need someone who knows how to train a woman your size to use her advantages. I'm not that guy and I won't risk harming you." Not happening. "Second, tell Vince you want to do a telecommute, so you'll be available online and through your phone, physically on location when I am. That'll also lessen your issues with Batista. You could even start taking classes for self-defense here in Sedona. I'm sure there is a taekwondo or karate teacher in the area. Third, I think you uh… boiled the water for the noodles to death." Mark peered in the pot affirmingly. "We can order out. Or we can go out, we haven't done that, have we?" He thought about it, pretty sure they hadn't.
"Fine, I'll do some research on karate studios or self-defense classes. That's a good idea too regarding Vince with the job. And I guess I suck at cooking too." Though, in her defense, he HAD been very distracting, not that she was complaining. "You wanna go out to eat? Want me to show you off?" She winked, shivering at the smirk curving his lips and turned the stove off completely, giving up on cooking. "Fine, let me get my sandals. Go get a shirt on and we'll go."
A few minutes later, they walked out of the house together and hopped into her truck before driving off. It wasn't nearly as big as a Silverado, but Emery didn't like small cars, preferring something with horsepower. While Mark drove, Emery made the call to Vince with the stipulations set in stone. She didn't trust Batista or anyone in the company besides Randy, Paul and her boyfriend. Vince instructed her to come to his office once she arrived at the arena tomorrow so they could sit down to sign her contract. Just as she hung up with him, Mark pulled into a diner and they hopped out, walking in together before being seated. Everything was set; Vince already had her plane ticket bought and it was waiting at the airport for her. Somehow, he'd gotten her the same flight as Mark as well. Vince was slick, Mark personally thought, as he browsed the menu, occasionally glancing across the table at Emery. She was gnawing her bottom lip between her teeth and he knew she was still a little anxious about this decision.
"Darlin', just make sure you read the fine print so you're not locked into a multi-year contract. This is temporary." He suggested soothingly, unless she wanted to change that after getting into a routine. Vince's slickness came in giving her everything she had demanded and he knew why: she was the best, pure and simple. A little… dense sometimes when it came to the actual wrestlers, but he had a feeling she wouldn't be that way anymore. "Darlin', can I offer you some advice?" At her nod, he cleared his throat. "From here on out, don't just write lines and expect everyone to fall in line. Approach the people involved and discuss it with them. Having everyone onboard before these things are set in stone would go a long way to getting people over being mad at you."
"I planned on it. No more running and hiding behind others. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right this time around. I'm not going near Batista though, I'll have someone else deal with him."
It would be concrete in her contract before she signed anything. Emery would be reading every single word twice, not wanting any surprises. Vince could be very sneaky when he wanted to be and she didn't trust him at all. Mark didn't either and rightfully so.
"I know it's…childish to be afraid of him, but I can't help it." The man had broken into her home, kidnapped her while she was unconscious from consuming a massive amount of whiskey and then dosed her with ether to the point where she nearly died! Yes, she had a right to have a healthy fear of that mongrel. "Thank you…for helping me with this and giving me advice." Reaching across the table, she took his hand as their fingers laced together, smiling a little easier.
"You're welcome." Mark hid his surprise at that, having recalled a time or two in the past when Emery had been so cocky, so full of herself. Hell, he had been as well. Time, and their rough experiences, seemed to be mellowing them both out. Experience in general had taught them both some hard lessons and it was obvious they had learned and were applying them. "Emery… it's not silly. He broke into your house, kidnapped and drugged you. You'd be out of your mind to not be afraid." He was a bit apprehensive himself, but also figured if Batista so much as looked at her wrong, he'd have a nasty accident.
After what happened to her, how could she be cocky and arrogant? Emery wasn't the same woman she used to be and it was obvious. Sure, she was cocky when it came to winning video games and on WoW, but the WWE had taught her a very hard lesson about life. Mark had pinpointed her problem – she wasn't a people person. She didn't know how to deal with people and, maybe it was stupidity on her part, but Emery owed Matthew a debt of gratitude.
If it hadn't been for his sick mind games and videos he helped Batista with, that outed her, she never would've had that lesson and wouldn't be with the love of her life right now. Mark brought her out of her shell and made her feel confident as a woman; something not even Batista could destroy. After ordering a chicken salad, not in the mood for anything heavy, Emery sipped her ginger ale quietly, her mind wandering to what lay ahead for her and Mark on the road.
Mark had ordered himself a double of the daily special: spaghetti and meatballs and nearly died laughing. Couple sides of garlic bread and a salad, sweet tea… he was set. The look on Emery's face made him smile, really smile. It was like she didn't know whether to find him funny or toss her fork at him. He reached out to place his hand on top of hers, trapping that fork.
"I love you, Emery."
"Uh huh, sure you do." Emery shot back playfully, taking the fork away as her salad was brought out and thanked the waiter, pouring her honey mustard sauce all over it. There was no better dressing to use when it came to a chicken salad. "I love you too, now eat before you waste away." They ate in companionable silence, each in their own thoughts and Emery surprisingly finished the huge salad. After Mark paid for their meal, they left the diner and held hands on the ride back to her home. "You know, since we're going to be traveling together, you might as well leave some stuff at my place for when we come here. I know you'll have to go to Texas sometimes, but I don't mind if you have a drawer at my place. Just food for thought."
That was a lot of food for thought actually, having a designated drawer at her house. He had been in enough relationships to know that was a big deal. Having a toothbrush was one thing, especially when he spent the night, but a spot to put his belongings in and leave it was completely different.
"You trying to tell me something, darlin'?" He teased, clearing his throat to cover his awkwardness. "I'm telling you now woman, I need two drawers."
"Okay, you can have two drawers. Or we can just get you a dresser for yourself." Emery didn't see the big deal considering they were in love, happy and spent all their free time together…well, mostly his. "It'd be a lot easier than you having to either buy new shit or bringing stuff from your place constantly." She wasn't in enough relationships to really understand what giving someone a drawer meant. Social awkwardness struck again. "Yeah, never mind, we'll just get you a dresser for yourself." Her room was kind of barren, so an extra dresser wouldn't make much difference.
She had no idea what she was signifying, at all. They had just jumped from a drawer to a dresser. "You're moving me in?" He blinked, eyes wide. "And I don't buy new shit all the time, I just keep washing whatever is in my bag until I go home." Unless Mark had skipped some washes, then it got thrown out and replaced. Maybe he did buy a lot. "Yeah, fine, a dresser."
"No – no I'm not moving you in. I'm just saying you can have a dresser at my place when you visit. It's not like I'm asking you to move all your shit in." Emery clarified, trying not to smile at his apprehension and folded her arms in front of her chest. "We live out of duffel bags and shit all the time on the road. Just figured you wouldn't have to do that if you had your own dresser." It was so nice to come home, when she did work for the WWE, and not have to worry about digging stuff out of a bag to wear. It was nice to have a dresser full of washed clean clothes to choose from, though most of hers was hung up.
"Darlin', you realize after over a decade of this lifestyle, it's pretty much normal to me, right?" Mark joked, sparing a look around the room.
He had a feeling he'd be here a lot more than usual, what with their reduced schedules. Mark began to smile, wondering if she'd realize he was for all intent and purposes, moving in. He'd go home, once a week for a few days, get in time with his kids if he could, come back to her. It could work.
Emery nodded, still not troubled by what she offered him and already knew where his dresser could go, digging in her dresser to pull clothes out. This was dropped on her suddenly and she had a sinking feeling this wasn't a temporary job. Once Cheryl had her baby, she probably wouldn't return to the company. This was her subtle way of giving Emery her job back without simply handing it over.
"Clothes, toothpaste, tooth brush, hair ties, brush…" She started listing things off in a mumble and slowly turned her eyes to see Mark staring at her. "Been a while since I've had to pack for the road. Just trying to remember everything." Then she began ticking stuff off her fingers again, mumbling.
Shaking his head, Mark went to rifle through his own belongings, deciding he really needed to wash his laundry and maybe clean out his bag. He carried the bag to her little laundry pantry and began dropping clothing into the washer, everything on cold, so no shrinkage. Grabbing the packing slip from the bottom of the bag, Mark eyeballed it and slipped it into his back pocket. End of the day his ass, it was already pushing 6. Not that it got dark early here; Arizona was sunny as hell. Emery had shredded those comic books… he knew because Orton had said as much. Having them replaced, and a new one to document their relationship since that last one, had been a bit costly, but he was ball's deep in these grand gestures, so…might as well continue.