| |
The next morning, Brandon had gone with Tré and a few of the boys to a local gym. He’d gotten in a good workout and even joked around with his friends. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the crappy way he’d ended his night. Tré had noticed his distraction and asked what was wrong. He’d mentioned thinking about finding a lawyer to ensure the buyout process went smoothly. Slade had overheard and given him the number of a friend of a friend, Joseph Naderi.
Once their workout was done and they’d made it to the arena, Brandon had told Tré he needed to find a quiet spot to talk to the lawyer he’d been referred to. He’d gone off by himself to this area near the eighteen wheelers that hauled the company’s equipment from city to city, where he found a big crate tucked between two tall, heavy-mesh screens. A banner hung forgotten over one of the screens, obscuring from view anything on the other side. This was the perfect spot to hide away for a while.
Brandon climbed up to sit on the trunk and took out his phone. But before making the call to the lawyer, he sat thinking about what he’d done. He’d faked an orgasm. Unfortunately, he had experience with faking it, so he’d known what to do. Clenching his ass a few times, a couple of moans, tensing up, then going lax was all it took. And since he was a pro at it, he’d even remembered to pretend to avoid the wet spot.
Brandon groaned in disgust at himself. He didn’t want to have that type of deceit in his and Tré’s relationship, but discussing his issues with sex mid-coitus wasn’t exactly the best plan. Waiting for a calm, quiet time away from the bedroom was best. He just hoped Tré didn’t throw his hands in the air and declare him too much to deal with.
The issue had been with him for years, pretty much ever since he’d left his teens. Back then a stiff breeze could have set him off. But around age twenty-two, the problem had started to pop up with increasing regularity. He’d never talked to anyone about his trouble reaching climax before, because he’d never been close enough to a romantic or sexual partner to feel comfortable doing so. Which of course was part of the problem. When he didn’t connect, his brain took over, drowning out everything his body was feeling with negative energy and thoughts.
Brandon slowly banged his head against the wall behind him. His thick mass of hair cushioned the impact of the blow. He couldn’t help but compare the sensation to what happened when his body froze up during sex. The arousal was there and he could feel it, but just like his hair acted as a barrier between the wall and his head, there was something blocking him from fully experiencing his arousal.
He sighed with frustration but stopped with the head banging. There was no guarantee Tré would understand his problem, but he had to try to explain it. He couldn’t bank on each sexual encounter between them being so exciting and new that he didn’t get locked up in his head. And he damn sure couldn’t count on faking it for very long. Eventually Tré would notice.
Deciding to put his sex hang-up on the back burner for now, Brandon finally made the call. He thumb-tapped the number then put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. The call connected, and a smooth, polite voice answered.
“Joseph Naderi speaking.”
“Hello, Mr. Naderi. This is Brandon Wilkes, my friend Slade I mean errr... Levi Hodge referred me to you.”
“Yes, I spoke with Slade this morning and he filled me in on your situation. Why don’t you give me a few more details?”
Brandon gave the backstory, and when asked, took pictures of the letter and pertinent pages of the copied contract and sent them to Naderi. Once he hit send, he sat there drumming his fingers on one knee while the lawyer read.
“This shouldn’t be too difficult to take care of,” Naderi said when he came back on the line. “They might drag their feet on getting everything completed, but I’ll stay on them so you can get back to work as soon as possible.”
“What do I need to do? Should I send you the money?” Brandon was eager to get the process started.
“Not yet. I’ll have you get a certified check payable to Grand Wrestling Syndicate, but let me negotiate the amount they’re asking for first. I might be able to get them to accept less.”
Brandon tried not to groan. “How long will that take?”
Friendly laughter came over the line. “I know you’re impatient. But it won’t take more than a day or two. If they don’t want to budge on the amount, I’ll move on quickly. I promise. After that, we’ll have everything sent by express courier to their corporate office in Minneapolis. The whole process shouldn’t take more than two weeks total.”
Brandon rolled his head on his neck, trying to loosen the tight muscles there. “Okay. I can hang backstage for two weeks.”
“Actually, you might want to consider going home until this is settled.”
“Why? I’m not on the show or anything.”
“I understand that, but their lawyers can try to use your presence there against you. We want to show good faith, and waiting until you’re in the free and clear to interact with Frontier Pro is a great way to do that. Talk to Mr. Mercer about it and see what he says.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” Brandon sighed. He’d hate to go home and be away from Tré for two weeks, but if that’s what it took to get him back on the road permanently, he’d do it. “Thanks for taking this on, Mr. Naderi.”
“You’re welcome. And please, call me Joseph. Tell Slade thanks again for the recommendation.”
“Will do.”
They ended the call after Joseph reminded him to fax over copies of the letter, his contract, and release forms. Not yet ready to leave his hiding spot, Brandon sat there quietly for a few moments. He was relieved the contract issue would be taken care of, yet also frustrated that it couldn’t be fixed immediately. But again, he had no one to blame but himself. With the GWS drama as settled as it could be for now, he started to hop down and go find Tré.
Before he could, however, he heard footsteps approaching. They stopped just out of sight from where he was hidden, tucked behind the big pieces of equipment. Brandon was about to reveal himself so he didn’t end up rudely eavesdropping, until he recognized they were talking about him. Curiosity got the better of him, and he stayed still and quiet so he could listen.
“Did you give to Brandon’s little help me be a wrestler again Go Fund Me?”
Brandon recognized that voice. It was Tuscaloosa Joe, the young baby face FPW had signed a few months before Devin. The woman he was with laughed. Brandon couldn’t figure out who it was until they started talking. It was Tokiwa, one of the women wrestlers.
“I don’t think so, honey. I keep my money where it belongs—in my pocket. It’s not my fault he screwed up his life running off to GWS.”
“That’s what I said. Meanwhile everybody else is raising money for his dumb ass. They’re probably getting scammed.”
“How so?”
“Think about it,” Joe said. “FPW starts having shit leaked to GWS. All of a sudden, Brandon runs off to them. Then he comes back not even two months later? And when it’s time for him to make his big return, there’s conveniently a non-compete clause he didn’t know about. Something’s not right. I bet you he’s the one selling secrets, and half the damn roster just paid him to do it.”
“Oh, you’re right. That’ll sting Tré when he figures it out.”
“Yeah, poor man is probably thinking with his little head instead of the big one. But you know how it is. Men always forgive anything if their lady is putting it down in the sheets. Can’t be any different for a gay dude.”
Tokiwa laughed. “And you know Tré is whipped after the way he moped around the whole time Brandon was gone then took him back the second he showed up again.”
“Exactly. To be honest, as close as those two are, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tré was in on it too.”
Brandon had heard enough. He didn’t care what they said about him, but he wasn’t going to sit there and listen to them bad-mouth Tré. He jumped down off the trunk he sat on and stepped into view.
“Oh my God!” Tokiwa’s eyes went wide when she noticed Brandon. She straightened from her slouch against the wall and slapped Joe on the shoulder.
Joe looked up, mouth falling open when he saw Brandon standing there. “Hey, B,” he said in an overly bright voice.
“My friends call me B,” Brandon said coldly. He stared hard at Joe, making it clear he did not count him as a friend. Brandon didn’t say anything else, not even bothering to deny he was a plant. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch out, forcing them to suffer their discomfort.
Tokiwa shuffled her feet, looking as though she’d rather be in the ring with a horde of wasps. Joe shrugged as if he wasn’t bothered, but he dropped his eyes from Brandon’s hard gaze. That tiny concession was enough for Brandon to end the standoff. Although he was pissed at the things he’d overhead, Brandon walked off with his spine straight and his head held high.
***
Leaving the shit-talking duo behind, Brandon went to give Alex a head’s up on Naderi’s plans. Unsurprisingly, his boss agreed that it was a good idea not to be backstage right now. Brandon nodded his acceptance, apologized again, then left to aimlessly roam around the arena for a while.
He came across several of his friends as he walked but was too unsettled to hang out with any of them. The conversation he’d overheard between Joe and Tokiwa had him pissed off and paranoid. Did his friends and co-workers regret helping him because they were starting to suspect he wasn’t one hundred percent on their team? Were there others like Joe who hadn’t helped from the get-go because they already thought he was a GWS plant?
Brandon was tempted to run down the list of donations to note who on the roster hadn’t given money. That might be a way to determine if there were others who thought he was dirty. But that wasn’t an okay thing to do. There could be any number of reasons people might not have donated to his co-workers’ unexpected and extremely generous assistance fund. He wasn’t going to let Joe’s bullshit have him casting suspicions on people without cause. Still, as he walked, he couldn’t help wondering what people were thinking as they looked at him.
His last few weeks at Grand, it was clear the roster there avoided looking at him. Now, Brandon couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at him. And it was ridiculous. There was nothing for him to feel guilty about. He wasn’t working for GWS on the sly. As far as he was concerned, he never wanted to work for that promotion as long as he was wrestling. Unfortunately, without proof, Brandon had no way of ensuring his co-workers didn’t suspect him of double-crossing them.
FPW needed to find out who was behind the leaks. He wanted to ask Alex or Chance what they were doing to root out the snitch, but that was management business, not something for the talent to be involved in. After his breach of contract notice was delivered in New York, Alex sent out a roster-wide text, asking everyone to be on the lookout and to remember to keep plans for the company private.
That was one thing wrestlers were good at. They were all aware their careers were dependent on keeping the audience in suspense of what would happen out there in the ring. And of course, the locker room code between the boys meant wrestlers’ private lives were never shared with the public. It was what allowed Chance and Devin, him and Tré, and Lorena and her new girlfriend to be open in their relationships backstage without the fans finding out they were gay.
Other than that, Alex hadn’t addressed the problem with the roster, and Brandon didn’t want to push for more overt action. It wouldn’t be fair to create an uncomfortable atmosphere backstage where everyone was under a cloud of suspicion just because he was paranoid.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. This was yet another reason he should never have gone to Grand. If he hadn’t, there wouldn’t be any reason to suspect him over anyone else. He ought to change his ring name to Bad Decision Brandon.
By that point he’d wandered nearly everywhere backstage, so he decided to find Tré. He found him in the viewing area, and he waved Brandon over when he saw him approaching.
“Hey. Did you get your phone call taken care of?”
“Yeah. The lawyer is going to try to negotiate the amount down first before we make the payment.”
“That’s good, right? Every little bit helps.”
Brandon nodded. “True. I’m just impatient to have this over with.” Thanks to the money given by his co-workers, the amount he’d have to come up with had been cut down from five-hundred thousand dollars to three-hundred thousand. Twenty-percent knocked off that reduced amount would be even better. It was still a huge chunk of change to pay out, but he could handle it financially.
“It’ll be okay,” Tré said just before he leaned down.
Brandon stood there stiffly, barely returning the kiss Tré pressed to his lips. His neck was still tight with irritation from listening to Joe spread his nasty rumors.
“What’s the matter?” Tré asked with his eyebrows meeting in a frown.
Brandon forced a smile. “Nothing. Just sort of bummed out.”
“Why?”
He quickly debated whether he should mention Joe and Tokiwa’s conversation before deciding against it. Instead, he brought up the other issue on his mind. “The lawyer thinks it’s a risky bet to travel with FPW while all this is getting sorted out. I talked to Alex and he agrees, so I’m going to fly back to South Carolina in the morning.” Tré slipped his arms around Brandon’s waist and pulled him close.
“Can I persuade you to stay one more day and fly home on Sunday instead? I hear catering is serving egg rolls tomorrow.”
Brandon relaxed into his boyfriend’s embrace and laughed. The catering egg rolls were legend for how terrible they were. But for whatever reason, Alex thought they were delicious, so the cook staff made them every couple of months. “Well, since tomorrow is egg roll day, I guess I can wait.”
“Good.”
Tré smiled and Brandon genuinely smiled back because Tré made him happy. His boyfriend was so gorgeous and nice and good. He reached up to touch the smooth skin of his lover’s jaw. They were both young, black, gay men, but they were so different. Tré had his life together and was always solid and steady. While Brandon often felt like a bottle with the label peeled off, tossed out in the ocean and floating along wherever the waves took him. “I like you,” he said.
“I like you, too. You know what else I like?”
“What?”
“The fact that I get to hug and kiss you now, instead of settling for staring at your ass when you’re not looking.”
“You don’t have to stop just because we’re together.” Brandon stepped out of Tré’s hold so he could turn around and wiggle his hips. “Stare all you want.”
“Meh.”
Brandon snapped his head around to look over his shoulder. “Meh? What’s that mean?”
Tré shrugged. “It’s not as good when you’re in regular shorts instead of your tights.”
Brandon’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He was ready to be outraged, although he wasn’t quite sure why, when he caught the twinkle in Tré’s dark eyes. Brandon closed his mouth and stuck his nose up in the air. “I’ll have you know that my skin-tight, extremely short bottoms are simply to allow me ease of movement in the ring, not for you to ogle my goodies.”
That made Tré laugh out loud. He reached out and wrapped an arm around the back of Brandon’s neck. “I want to run the ropes for a bit and get some practice in with my opponent for tonight. Want to come with me?”
“Only if I get a piggy back ride down to the ring,” Brandon teased with a grin.
Tré groaned but turned around so Brandon could hop on his back. Brandon held on tight, wrapping his legs around Tré’s waist. They set off, and Brandon closed his eyes, savoring the closeness in a way he hadn’t been able to before. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin behind his boyfriend’s ear, smiling when Tré shivered in reaction. “Hey, Tré?”
“Yeah?”
“When you carry me around like this, can you feel my dick on your back?”
Tré stuttered a step, choking on a laugh before he answered. “Yes.”
Brandon squeezed his limbs around his lover’s body. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable when I used to do this before we were a couple.” Tré stopped in front of the ring steps, and Brandon prepared to jump down. Tré gripped his thigh, keeping him in place.
“Don’t be. I was desperate to be close to you, and no matter how cool I played it, I loved holding you every time.”
After that admission, Tré let Brandon down, then jumped in the ring without looking back. Brandon leaned on the outside apron, watching as Tré and his opponent started talking. He remembered how miserable he’d been, so close to Tré while dreaming of being with him as more than friends. Of course, Tré had confessed that he’d secretly been pining as well. But it hadn’t clicked for Brandon that Tré had been hurting too until that moment. That realization made him happier than ever that he’d taken a chance and kissed Tré that night.
Several hours later, Brandon walked around backstage again. It was kind of dull and boring without anything to do, but at least he got to get a close-up view of Tré’s progress. He could use that to work out the dynamic for their future tag matches. Deciding to get a better sense of the energy in the arena for Tré, he skipped watching on the monitor and went to find a spot where he could take in the live crowd. On the left side of the ramp, there was a split in the curtains he could peek through. He made sure to stay as still as possible, only opening the curtains the barest amount to look out so fans sitting nearby wouldn’t see him.
Tré was amazing in the ring. There was no other word for it. He’d more than stepped up to the challenge of wrestling on his own. The crowd was with him one hundred percent, cheering when he had the upper hand and booing when Chuck Rocka got the better of him. The intensity of the match ratcheted up as Tré started building to the finish. Chuck Rocka tried to cheat with a low-blow kick to Tré’s crotch. Tré caught the man’s boot mid-kick, giving him a you’ve-fucked-up grin. Chuck Rocka frantically shook his head, trying to break free. Tré dropped his foot, took two steps back then charged forward to hit his opponent with a monstrous clothesline. The man sold it beautifully, doing a three-sixty spin in the air from the apparent force of it. Tré stood over him to yell, “Not in my house!”
Brandon smiled as the audience shouted along with him then cheered as Tré dropped down for the pin. That audience engagement was gold. Tré was well on his way to becoming main event material. Brandon was happy to see his friend and lover doing so well, and he hoped his upcoming return wouldn’t derail Tré’s momentum.
After the show, they hit the road to the next town. Tré, still wound up from the match, took the wheel. As they sped down the highway, Brandon took his phone out to scroll through his Twitter mentions. He’d been off TV for two weeks, but that hadn’t affected the deluge of tweets he was sent and tagged in. One tweet in particular caught his eye. I guess we know who the Jeanetty is of the Pittsburgh Power Machine. Surprised it’s @BrandonFlips. Thought for sure it’d be Tré.
Brandon clenched his jaw in annoyance. The tweet referred to one of the most famous tag team breakups in wrestling. Shawn Michaels had turned on his partner, Marty Jeanetty, throwing him through a talk show set window in the process. Michaels had gone on to have one of the most celebrated careers in professional wrestling, while Jeanetty had fallen almost completely off the radar. Brandon hated that anyone assumed Tré couldn’t be a breakout singles star if given the chance. But he couldn’t blame them for thinking he’d flamed out.
Over the past few months, the wrestling world had watched him quit FPW, move to Grand, look good for a month, then tumble down the card, until finally he was nowhere to be seen. His downward spiral causing fans to label him the Jeanetty stung, but he’d be able to get his career back on track once he was on TV again.
He tapped over to the search bar and put in Tré’s name. If fans were assigning a winner and loser to their breakup, Brandon wanted to see the good things they were saying about Tré as the winner. There was gif after gif of Tré taking down opponents with his finishing clothesline. That move was clearly popular. He came across an account with the handle @WrestlerButtsXXX, and saw close-up pictures of Tré’s ass and bulge, and slow-mo gifs of his butt cheeks bouncing when he landed hard on the mat. Brandon grinned. He couldn’t be mad at that. Then he scrolled down to the next tweet. It was a linked article from the Pro Graps Report, an online magazine that reported on all the gossip and news in professional wrestling. Tré Montgomery is a Better Wrestler Without Brandon Wilkes.
The smile dropped from Brandon’s face. His thumb hovered over the screen while he debated whether to click the link.
“What are you looking at on there?”
Brandon jumped guiltily. Recovering from his surprise, he closed the Twitter app and nonchalantly lowered his phone to his lap. “Just scrolling through my mentions.”
“You’re on there too much,” Tré said. He nodded at an upcoming highway sign. “We’re almost at the hotel. Do you need anything from the gas station first?”
“No.” Brandon paused to yawn. “I’m ready to get in there and lie down.”
“All right.”
They talked for the remainder of the drive. Brandon kept it light, not mentioning any of the negativity he’d seen on Twitter. By the time they reached their hotel room, however, he was too tired to maintain his good mood any longer. The stress of his contract situation, Joe’s accusations, and reading the shitty Twitter opinions had drained him of his energy. He dropped his bag on the floor and plopped down on the bed to quickly undress. All he wanted was to curl up against Tré and fall asleep.
As usual, Tré prepared for bed with more care. Brandon crawled under the covers and watched him undress from behind heavy, half-closed lids. He was too tired for his body to do much reacting, but that didn’t stop him from admiring the sight of his partner’s magnificent body. Wide, muscled back, huge biceps that he wanted to cling to like a damsel in distress, an ass to shame all the other asses of the world, and thighs so thick he felt sorry for the jeans that had to contain them. And it was all wrapped up in smooth, dark skin blessed by the shea butter gods.
Brandon smiled and closed his eyes when Tré turned off the light. His man was gorgeous. The perfect sight to gaze at before falling asleep. Tré got into bed on the other side and wrapped an arm around Brandon’s waist. Playful fingers lightly trailed over Brandon’s stomach, dipping down to the elastic of his briefs. Tré whispered into his ear.
“We might not be able to see each other for a couple of weeks. Should we make the most of it tonight?”
Brandon didn’t want to. He was tired and already in his head, which meant he’d probably struggle to make it to the big finish. The thought of faking it again was depressing, so he’d rather avoid sex altogether. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t ready to discuss his issue with sex so he needed another reason to put Tré off. “Actually, I’ve kind of got something on my mind.”
“What’s up?”
Brandon turned onto his other side to face his boyfriend. “I overheard Joe and Tokiwa talking, and apparently Joe really does think I’m a plant for GWS.”
“Forget Joe,” Tré said.
Brandon wished it were that easy. But his reputation and pride had already taken a beating after quitting Grand. He didn’t want snitch tied to his name too. “I don’t like people speculating that I’m betraying the people I work with. Especially after those same people donated a huge amount of money to help me get back on the roster.”
“C’mon, baby. Don’t worry about that. Let’s just focus on us.”
Tré leaned in for a kiss, but Brandon jerked back. He didn’t like the cajoling tone to Tré’s voice, and he didn’t like the easy disregard of his concerns.
Tré’s eyes went wide. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re asking me what’s the matter? I told you what I was thinking and you blew me off because you’re too damn horny to listen.”
“I wasn’t blowing you off. I just don’t want our time together to be ruined with nonsense from work.”
At that comment, Brandon threw the covers back and shot out of the bed. Storming over to the light switch, he smacked it on. He turned back to Tré, who’d sat up in bed and was blinking at the sudden light. “It’s not nonsense. You know we’ve got a problem going on backstage, and I don’t appreciate you ignoring me when I tell you I’m worried people fucking think it’s me.” Brandon snatched up from the floor the clothes he’d taken off a few minutes ago and angrily jerked them back on. “If you weren’t so damn worried about keeping your dick happy, you’d see that.”
Tré held a hand out as though to push back Brandon’s words. “Whoa, wait a minute. I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. You made it perfectly clear with your actions.” Brandon grabbed his hotel room key and cell phone off the nightstand and strode over to the door.
“Where are you going?” Tré asked.
“I need to be by myself for a while.” He yanked the door open and stepped out into the hallway. “Don’t wait up for me.”
