Chapter 13
It’s not unusual to hear my name tossed around backstage, but it is when someone calls me by my first name. No one in EWE calls me John, except one person, and even though this voice sounds similar to hers, it’s not the same. Which means it can only be…
“John!” Laine Williams calls again, and I glance over my shoulder to see the entire Williams family huddled together.
All heads turn my way before the twins begin waving wildly.
They still look like the high school seniors I met last year, except this time it’s a little easier to tell them apart because Blake has longer curls that frame his face.
I excuse myself from a conversation with Tim Cass, head of Creative, and greet each member of the family with a handshake, except Laine. She refuses, pulling me in for a hug.
This is the first time I’ve seen the Williams family since I left their ranch last January.
I received an invitation to the New Year’s gathering this year from not only Wolf but Brody and Nash, too, but I politely declined.
Savannah and I have kept our distance since that night in the barn (a night I’ve thought about on more than one occasion), and I know myself well enough to know that if I had gone, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself.
Crew had eyed me suspiciously when I’d walked into breakfast that next morning, and it was only after I’d seen the dark bruise peeking out from underneath Savannah’s sweater’s collar, lightly coated with makeup, that I realized he had probably put two and two together.
But if he knew (or thought he knew), he never said anything.
Not even tonight when I ran into the whole family backstage following Savannah’s loss to Raelynn.
Savvy Skye has been the women’s champion for the last four months, following her win at Last Stand, the premiere live event in September.
Throughout her title run, she has defended her title at least once a week, something I haven’t seen a champion do in a long time, maybe ever—and it was something she wanted to do.
Not a story that Amos or Tim Cass threw together, not one match per month at a premiere event.
Every week, she defended her title against one of the other women, including Raelynn’s character, Rae Rose, who became her biggest opponent.
The whole thing was Savannah’s idea, from what I heard, and the fans ate it up, firmly cementing her as one of the top women’s wrestlers in the company.
The feud between Savvy Skye, “Queen of the Ring,” and Rae Rose, “Queen of Roses,” began two months ago and is my favorite of her title reign.
There is something special about working with your best friend in the ring that allows you to put on some of your best matches.
And tonight, the outcome had been kept secret.
I’m not sure if the girls even knew who was going to walk out as champion because the winner slot had been left blank on the call sheet, but in the end, Rae successfully pinned Savvy, earning Rae her second women’s title.
“Some match you had out there,” Savannah’s father, Wes, says.
That’s one way to put it. I’m not particularly happy with the storyline I’ve been involved in the last two months, but I remind myself that sometimes we all get handed the short end of the stick, even me.
I was thrown in the middle of a storyline between Chelsea and Theo Rafferty.
Chelsea recruited me to be her lackey, for lack of a better term, when she “realized” her brother was planning to “undermine her” and “take over” her position in the company, just below their father.
It was a classic case of sibling rivalry gone too far, and tonight I was pitted against “The Lunatic” Grady Chandler, the wrestler Theo had chosen to stand in for him.
The timing of tonight’s match seemed rather fitting, considering tonight is Battle of Champions, the first of two premiere events this month.
Whichever wrestler won allowed their sponsoring Rafferty to keep their position, and the loser was banned from the company.
It was stupid, but the crowd had been eating it up for weeks.
And tonight, it all came to a head when I made Grady tap out.
Both Rafferty children were ringside for the match, and upon my win, Chelsea jumped into the ring to raise my hand and kiss my cheek, leaving a large red imprint of her lips on my skin.
Walking backstage, I could already see the wheels turning behind Amos’s eyes, and I knew I wasn’t going to like where this was headed…
“You and Chelsea close, or is all that for show?” Wes asks. I notice the way Crew’s stare narrows slightly at the mention of her name.
“No, sir,” I say, glancing briefly at the oldest Williams sibling. “Just part of the story.” Crew bites down on the corner of his lip and shakes his head, looking down the hallway. “Y’all waiting on Savannah?”
“Yes, she had to go to the trainer,” Laine says. “Her shoulder was bothering her.”
“I was wondering about that.”
Savannah took a hard hit during her match, going headfirst into the ring post, and the landing didn’t look right.
She came out of the corner, favoring her shoulder, but let Raelynn continue to work it anyway and finished the match.
Pain etched her features as soon as the bell rang, and she clutched her arm as she rolled out of the ring.
I watched on the monitor as she pushed medical staff away, but it was written across her face—something wasn’t right.
“You saw the match?”
Before I can answer, Savannah’s voice echoes from down the hallway. “Mamá, what are you guys doing? I told you to—Oh.” She stops mid-step, meeting my stare. “Brooks, hi.”
I sigh at the name choice.
“We were just catching up since you didn’t invite him back to the ranch this year,” Laine says.
Savannah rolls her eyes and offers me a brief, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry if they’ve been bothering you. I told them to stay out of the way, but—”
“They’re fine,” I say. “It’s good to see everyone.”
“Yes, it was good to see you since you couldn’t join us for the holiday this year.” Laine turns her stare from me to her daughter, but she ignores her mother.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I was spending it with my sister and her boyfriend.”
When Ari heard I didn’t have plans to ring in the new year, she insisted I join her and Samuel in our hometown of Ravenswood, Indiana.
We compromised—they’d come down to my house in Florida, and could invite some friends to tag along.
Their guests included Samuel’s sister and brother-in-law, and one of his sister’s girl friends, and let’s say the third wheels did not hit it off the way the other two couples had hoped.
“Well, I expect to see you there next year. Bring your sister along, we have plenty of room,” Laine says.
“Mamá, you can’t just order him to show up,” Savannah says, looking between us in disbelief. “What if he—”
“I’d love to,” I interrupt. Her brown eyes meet mine for the first time all night, and I smile. “If that’s okay with you, Sav.”
After a moment, Savannah nods.
“How’s that shoulder, SJ?” Wes asks.
“Doc wants me to get evaluated further. He thinks I might have dislocated it,” she says.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I say. “Looked like it hurt.”
Her gaze returns to me with a look of surprise. “You saw?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” That makes her smile, and I do the same in return. “Well, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to get going. I want to get to Houston before it gets too late.”
“You stay in touch, you hear?” Laine pulls me into a tight hug before Wes extends his hand. Each of the siblings pulls me into a quick embrace, too, except Crew, who only offers a nod.
“I’ll see you around,” I whisper to Savannah, doing my best to ignore that familiar pull between us, and I have a feeling she’s doing the same by the way her arms cross over her chest. A twinge of pain crosses her face before she catches herself and offers a tight smile. “Please get that looked at.”
Savannah rolls her eyes. “I’ll live.”
“Sweetheart, please. The sooner you do, the sooner you come back.” The nickname rolls off my tongue with such ease, and it catches more than her attention. I notice the look shared between her parents and excuse myself before I can say something else I shouldn’t.
Halfway down the hall, I can hear her mother say something in Spanish that I can’t understand, but Savannah’s response tells me everything I needed to know.
“Ay, Mamá.” She sighs. “Would you just drop it already?”
Brody and I finally arrived at our hotel in Houston twenty minutes ago and agreed to one drink before we go to bed. We don’t typically indulge the night before a show anymore, but my best friend was feeling spontaneous tonight, and I decided to go along for the ride.
The moment we walk into the bar, I immediately regret that decision.
We’re beckoned to the table in the corner where Miles Drake, better known as Damian “The Anarchist” Drake, Grady, Spencer, and one of the show’s announcers, Scott Harrington, sit.
And from the looks of it, they’re in the middle of welcoming the new kid, Colin Montgomery, or Colin Ryker, by making him pay for whatever tab they’ve racked up.
Stupid hazing ritual. I thought we left that shit in 2010.
“Well, well, well,” Drake says when we reach the table.
“Look who finally decided to be one of the guys for a change.” Miles Drake is known for being the backstage asshole, always inserting his two cents where it doesn’t belong.
Most of the time, he takes the title of “Anarchist” a little too literally, blurring the lines of reality and fiction.
He and I have never gotten along; I can’t remember a single time we have.
Keeping our distance backstage is our version of being civil.