Chapter 33
I don’t have to be in here. I could have just as easily watched this from one of the monitors in the back with Rae and Bennett, but I hoped I’d be able to catch Brooks on his way back after this segment.
We’re about to spend an entire weekend side by side, and I don’t feel like being ignored in the name of “keeping our distance.”
That’s what we’ve been doing all week, unless it has to do with work, just like he wanted, and I have to admit I’ve found myself missing him.
Am I even allowed to say that? I don’t know.
I don’t think so. It’s not like I have a reason to miss him, we’re not together—haven’t been together—and I’m pretty sure the whole “friends” thing went out the window after dinner on Sunday.
I thought we had finally found some common ground where we could let the walls down a little, and then I went and screwed it up in a moment of what…
Nostalgia? Longing for something that no longer exists?
I’ve spent the last four days dissecting every little thing that has happened over the past two and a half weeks, and every time it comes back to his confession on the street in the middle of downtown Chicago.
He still loves me. I’ve asked myself if I feel the same countless times, and each time, the immediate answer is…
yes. The more I think about it, the more I think that’s the reason I’ve continued to push him away.
It doesn’t make sense, but at the same time, it makes complete sense.
I am scared. Scared to get hurt again. Scared to let him in again.
But I’m even more scared of living a life without John Brooks in it…
“Brooks Taylor is jealous!” Spencer Austin yells, drawing my attention back to the screen in the corner. The three of them—Spencer, Viviana, and Brooks stand in the middle of the ring for an “interview” with Jude Paul.
I’m not slated to join them; my only contribution to tonight’s show was joining the battle royale for the number one contender’s spot to face Calla Lily at Wrestlefest. And while I knew I wasn’t going to win, it had been nice to get in the ring with all the girls.
Kerrigan Tate won the royale, and from what I’ve seen of her in my short time back, that match is going to be one to watch.
“That’s right, I said it. You’re jealous of me.”
Brooks chuckles. Jealous? he mouths, and points at Austin.
“When you came back last year, you weren’t the guy anymore, Brooks. You come out here and play the character of Brooks Taylor, but you’re not even him anymore. You’re just the washed-up, has-been version of your former self.”
The crowd begins a divided chant of their names, “Aus-tin” and “Brooks,” and I hate to say that I think the Austin side is louder. Brooks shrugs, a smirk on his lips.
“Half of this crowd cannot stand you, and the other half just refuses to admit that you’re not the great Brooks Taylor you once were. But this isn’t why we’re here.”
“You mean the last five minutes of your whining and complaining isn’t why I’m here?” Brooks asks, and Spencer’s face falls. “Oh, I’m sorry, please continue.” He tries to hide his laughter, biting down on the inside of his cheek, before he motions for Spencer to continue.
“We’re here because it’s time someone put you in your place, Brooks.
I’m tired of you and your arrogant ways.
You walk around here like you own the place, but you’re no better than the dirt beneath my shoe.
” Spencer white-knuckles the microphone, spitting the words.
“You’ve been handed opportunity after opportunity, while the rest of us have to claw and fight to get a crumb, a morsel of a chance…
People like me, Ryker, Drake. You step on us, on all of us, to put yourself at the top, and you can’t even wrestle! ”
Seriously? We’re going back to that? Come on, Austin, you can do better than that.
Claiming Brooks can’t wrestle is always the fallback for people who are looking to pick a fight with him.
I roll my eyes, and when I glance in the opposite corner of the room, Amos stares at the screen in front of him with pursed lips.
He’s not loving this. They need to do something to get this moving.
“We’re the ones who work every damn day to make these shows what they are! And you…you walk in here and expect everything to just be handed to you.”
Brooks looks bored, rolling his own eyes.
“I want you to see what it’s like when someone takes away your dreams, the same way you’ve taken away countless dreams from every other wrestler in this company!”
“The dreams I’ve—” Brooks laughs. “That’s all you’ve got?
Come on, Austin. I know you can do better than this.
You’re saying the same shit everyone has been saying for the last ten years!
Don’t you think if I had all this ‘power’ you guys seem to think I do, I’d have that belt around my waist?
” He points to the belt on the chair Spencer occupied not long ago.
“You say I manipulate everything that happens here in EWE, and yet I haven’t won a title in almost three years!
Count ’em.” He lifts his fingers to count backwards to 2016.
“I haven’t held a title since I lost to Damian Drake at Wreck the Halls in 2016.
” He shakes his head. “You want to come out here and act all holier-than-thou, but the truth is, you’re no better than me and every other man in that locker room.
If I really am the man behind the curtain, pulling all the strings, especially this close to Wrestlefest, you think I’d be in a match with you? ”
That earns a chuckle from none other than Amos and the crowd.
“No, I’d be face-to-face with Fata, Goodwin, or, hell, maybe even that new kid—Aaron Zimmerman—who’s been kicking ass down in NextGen.
” The crowd roars, and Brooks glances at Viviana, who stands behind her husband.
He points at her with a narrowed gaze. “And don’t even get me started on you.
What are you doing here? You make this grand ‘comeback,’ but you’ve barely stepped foot in the ring since.
Your match with me weeks ago was the third time you’ve been in a ring since you walked through that door.
You didn’t even compete in that battle royale earlier for the women’s title.
Why?” She looks at Spencer for an answer, but he only continues to glare at Brooks.
“Oh, don’t worry, I know why. I just want to see what you have to say.
It’s because you’re too busy being this guy’s lapdog. ”
That earns a “lap-dog” chant from the crowd, and everyone backstage starts laughing.
“Why is that?” Brooks asks. “Too scared to get back in the ring unless you’re fighting someone with their hand tied behind their back? Afraid to take a bump? Afraid you might get hurt? Newsflash! We get hurt for a living. You picked the wrong career.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for your girlfriend!” Viviana hisses.
It would appear he’s struck a nerve, but it’s her use of the word girlfriend that catches my attention, and that of a few others around gorilla, including Noah. He glances my way with a smirk before turning back to his monitor.
“My girlfriend?”
“If it wasn’t for her, I—”
“If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be standing where you are right now, Viviana,” Brooks says, venom dripping from his voice.
For a moment, I don’t see the character, only the man behind the mask.
“That woman did more for the women’s division than anyone else—you included!
But I guess you wouldn’t know because you were too busy fucking this clown.
You’re too worried about what other people think of you, but you don’t do anything to better yourself.
And that’s the difference between us and the two of you…
When Savvy and I fail, we get back up and try again, but you blame everybody else. ”
“That’s funny considering she walked out on you two years ago.”
My heart stops. I knew this was coming sooner or later; I just hoped it would be much later.
Brooks scrubs a hand over his face before his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. He takes a deep breath and glances around the crowd, which has started to chant, “Holy shit.” That’s the bombshell they’ve been waiting for since my return.
“You know something, Spencer? You’re right, Savvy did leave me. But you want to know something else? She still answered my call. She still showed up. She’s been in this ring every damn day since she walked back through that door, and that’s more than I can say for either one of you.”
That receives a “Savvy Skye” chant, but I’m too focused on the drama unfolding on-screen to care when every eye in gorilla turns on me. Because for the first time in a long time, I don’t know where this will lead.
“You’ve created this delusion in your heads where everyone is against you, everyone is out to get you. That’s not real, and Spencer, it’s time to act like a man, stand up and—”
“Do you ever shut up?” Viviana yells, catching Brooks off guard. Maybe Spencer a little, too. “I know you like to hear yourself talk, but haven’t we heard enough?”
Brooks chuckles, scratching his chin, and what happens next is not part of the script. In fact, most of this wasn’t scripted. They were allowed to go out and trash-talk each other freely, because a little improv never hurt anyone, but I know for certain this wasn’t planned.
Viviana’s palm collides with Brooks’s cheek when he starts to speak again, and the world around me comes to a halt.
Did she just…
This isn’t a fucking segment anymore. I could see the switch happen, slowly turning from banter back and forth to something more real.
Personal. Blurring the lines between the role we’re meant to play in the ring and reality.
I didn’t think it would turn into this; otherwise, I would’ve insisted on being out there.
Viviana can say whatever she wants about me—hell, she can talk trash about him—but she is not going to get away with putting her hands on him.
Before I know it, I’m standing up from my chair and walking out of the curtain that will lead to the ramp.
I can vaguely hear one of the producers yelling my name into the headset, trying to get the sound techs to play my music before I make it out there.
They want it to seem like this was planned, but they can take their program and shove it up their ass.
When I get back to gorilla, I’m probably going to get my ass chewed because I’m not supposed to be anywhere near this segment. I don’t care.
Just before I step out, I hear him chuckle over the speakers—like he knows what’s coming. Knows I’m about to walk out there.
“You just made the biggest mistake of your life,” Brooks says, and I’m already on stage before he can finish.
The crowd cheers as I run toward the ring, sliding under the bottom rope. I pop up to my feet in a fluid motion, but Spencer has already pulled Viviana out of the ring. He drags her by the hand toward the ramp.
I snatch the microphone from Brooks’s hands and climb the rope, glaring down at them. “You fuck with him? I’m coming after you, bitch,” I say, and the crowd explodes. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”
I throw the microphone to the ground, and Brooks takes my hand when I jump down from the ropes.
He lifts our hands into the air, but my gaze remains locked on Viviana.
Her husband continues to pull her up the ramp, and only when they disappear backstage do I turn my attention to the crowd. I finally let myself smile.
Brooks motions to the corners, and we climb up the turnbuckles, soaking in the reaction from the crowd. I can feel his gaze on me, warming my skin, and when I turn to meet his stare, he wears a wide, toothy grin that makes mine grow wider.
When we finally make it backstage, almost five minutes later, all eyes are on us. I freeze, but Brooks places a firm hand on my back, urging me forward.
“Brooks! Skye!” Amos’s voice rings out before he pops up from his chair. We pause in the middle of the room, meeting the wide grin of the man in charge. “That was good shit.”
Brooks nods at him, and his fingers gently tap my lower back.
Keep moving, they say. I half expect him to pull away when I move forward, but he doesn’t.
He continues to guide me through the small sea of people who’ve gathered in gorilla, each one offering us some acknowledgement for the show we just put on.
When we finally make it through the curtain backstage, Brooks clears his throat, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by a loud whistle to our right. Spencer and Viviana are posted along the wall. Were they seriously waiting for us? Don’t they have anything better to do?
“Put on quite the show out there, Sav,” Spencer says, lips quirked to the side.
“Trust me, Austin, it wasn’t a show,” I say.
Viviana chuckles, drawing my attention to her as she clings to his arm. Her smug smile only adds fuel to the fire rebuilding inside my chest.
“And you. If you ever put your hands on him again, you’ll have more than one knee to rehab.”
She gasps, and there’s a small chuckle behind me.
Spencer’s eyes widen with rage. “Come near my wife—”
“And you’ll do what?” My glare turns on him. “If your wife would keep her hands to herself, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion.”
I feel a tug against my waist, pulling me back a step that I hadn’t even realized I’d taken. Somewhere in the exchange of words, Brooks had slipped a finger through my belt loop, making sure I would keep a healthy distance from the two cowards on the other side of the hall.
“You’d better be careful, Sav,” Viviana says. Her gaze flickers to Brooks. “Or someone might think you still have feelings for him.”
“That’s enough!” Noah steps through the curtain. “C’mon, break it up, you guys.” He shuffles his way into the middle of our little powwow and glances around at each of us. “I mean it. Now go. All of you. Save it for the ring on Sunday.”