16. MONDAY — MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA #2
“And just so you know, Silas… The storyline has been moved up. You’ll be working with Martinez starting tonight. No more mistakes. As for you, Kincaid, you’re off-screen. Indefinitely. You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay in the building.”
As we grabbed our gear from the locker room each pair of eyes fell upon us. The guys inside had heard every word. We walked out with our heads down, staying quiet as we headed for our new space.
It was a supply closet. A small, windowless room filled with mops, extra rolls of tape, and the smell of industrial cleaner.
One folding chair sat in the corner, and a single light bulb dangled from the ceiling.
I threw my bag to the side, and the sound of it hitting the concrete echoed in the tiny space.
Silas sat on the folding chair, his head in his hands.
“A supply closet,” he whispered with a brief laugh escaping him. “We’re the top fighters in the UWF, and they’ve put us in a supply closet.”
I walked over to him, taking his hands in mine and squeezing hard. “It doesn’t matter, Si. It’s just a room. They can’t hide us away forever.”
I stood next to the monitors in Gorilla, my arms crossed over my chest with my eyes fixed on the screen. On the monitor, Silas stood in the center of the ring, the Heavyweight belt glistening as it rested on his shoulder.
And across from him: Rico Martinez.
“He’s pacing too much,” Evan whispered from beside me, having snuck into Gorilla to stand with me. He leaned in closer, his breath bristling against my ear. “Look at his feet. He’s nervous as hell.”
“He’s twenty-something and cutting a promo with Silas Reed,” I whispered back, my eyes glued to the monitor. “He should be nervous. Silas will eat him alive if he misses a single line.”
“You talk about legacy, Silas,” Rico spat into the mic, his voice carrying through the arena speakers. “You talk about honor, but we all know the truth. You’re a Reed. It’s because of your daddy and uncle you got your spot here, isn’t it?”
Rico walked a circle around Silas. “Reeds…they protect their own. You all circle the wagons to make sure the family stays on top. So, let’s be honest…that’s the only reason Deadlock’s where he is, right?”
Beside me, Evan’s spine straightened, and his brow furrowed. “Wait, that’s not the line. He’s supposed to talk about entering the Front Lines match.”
“What?” I asked.
“Rico’s line is supposed to be about building a team to go against Silas in the War Zone match,” Evan said, his voice dropped in a tense whisper. “He skipped that entire part of the promo. He’s going off-script, Cal. He’s shooting.”
On screen, Rico stepped closer to Silas.
“People treat Kincaid like he’s a god, but now we know the truth.
We all know how this little set-up works.
I mean, back in the day, people said the women slept their way to the top to get TV time.
" Rico smirked, leaning into the mic. “Well, I guess gender doesn’t matter when you’re on your knees, does it?
Kincaid didn’t earn that top spot by wrestling.
He didn’t earn it with his Iron Man matches or broken bones.
It was earned by blowing the boss’s favorite legacy hire. ”
“What the fuck is happening?” I breathed.
“He’s fucking shooting,” Evan hissed, his eyes wide. “He’s actually shooting on live TV. Presley is going to kill him.”
The arena went deadly silent. Rico had just reduced my entire career to a sexual favor in front of hundreds of thousands of fans.
One thing about Silas is he’s spent his entire career keeping his discipline locked down. Not once has he ever lost his cool. Until now.
There was no scripted TV reaction. He didn’t look shocked or try to play to the crowd. He dropped the belt, and it hit the canvas with a heavy thud that echoed through the silence.
“Oh God. Look at Silas’s face.” Evan ran a nervous hand through his hair. I was looking, but I wasn't seeing the corporate champion standing in that ring anymore.
I was seeing Maverick Reed’s son.
Silas stepped into Rico’s space and shoved him back, hard. It sent him stumbling into the ropes.
“You listen here,” he growled, his Southern drawl coming in thick.
He grabbed Rico by the tactical vest he wore for his entrance and hauled him close.
“You think you’re brave? You think because you’re a Martinez you get a pass to say whatever you want?
You’re just a punk hiding behind a legacy you didn’t earn! ”
“He’s going to kill him,” I whispered as a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“You can call me whatever you want!” Silas roared into the mic, his voice shaking.
“A nepo baby or a fraud. Call me whatever helps you sleep at night, I don’t give a shit!
” He yanked Rico closer until their noses touched.
“But for your own well-being…keep my husband’s name out of your goddamn mouth. ”
The word hit the room like a grenade.
Husband.
Evan choked, his hand flying to his mouth. “Did he just…?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, a single tear tracking down my cheek. “Yeah, he did.”
Chaos erupted. Silas dropped the mic, throwing a right hook that nearly took Rico’s head off.
“CUT THE FEED!” Presley screamed from the production desk behind us. “GO TO BLACK! NOW!”
The screen went dark, but the noise from the arena only got louder.
I moved toward the curtain. “I have to go out there.” “No!” Evan grabbed my arm, digging his fingers in. “If you go out there, you’ll make it ten times worse. Stay here!”
“He’s in an actual fight! I’m going!” I tried to shake Evan off.
“I’ll go. I’m neutral. I’ll get him!”
Evan sprinted through the curtain just as the brawl spilled into the aisle.
I watched on the backup monitor as Silas and Rico crashed over the barricade, trading brutal blows.
A sea of security guards tried to intervene.
I could hear the screaming coming from the curtain moments before they crashed into Gorilla.
It was absolute mayhem. Six security guards were trying to peel Silas off Rico. Evan was stuck in the middle, desperately shoving Rico back against the concrete wall.
“GET OFF ME!” Silas roared. His shirt was ripped down the middle as his chest fought to drag in oxygen.