The Contender (Wrestling Diaries #1)

by Sarah Bale

  Wrestling Diaries: The Contender

  April 3

  Tonight was the granddaddy of them all and I watched it from my couch.

  Alone.

  Again.

  My goal is to be there in person next year. Yeah, yeah… I know I say that every year, but I mean it this time. Even if I don’t have anyone to go with me, I’m going!

  The most exciting part of the PPV was when HE returned at the end of the night. The crowd went nuts since he wasn’t expected to be back for another month or so. Hell, I even screamed when his music hit. And boy, oh boy, did he look good in those wrestling trunks.

  Now that the PPV is over I have to go back to reality (work, bleh). I really wish I’d get that promotion, but it doesn’t look like that will be happening any time soon. It seems my boss only likes to promote males.

  April 13

  Today I got an email that made my heart pound. HE is coming to town for an autograph signing next month. The email was vague, but… still! I might actually get to meet him. Now the million-dollar question is what on earth should I wear?

  April 15

  Ran into my boss in the parking garage. He tried to avoid me, but we were parked side by side.

  “Jamie,” he greeted. “How are you?”

  I wanted to be snide and say, “You mean since I didn’t get the promotion? Again. Oh, I’m dandy.”

  Instead, I smiled. “Great, sir. Have a good weekend.”

  Asshole.

  April 22

  Some of the girls in the office asked me to go have a drink with them. I wanted to, but I always feel so damn out of place. Being the wallflower has never been fun. If only I could find a way to come out of my shell.

  May 1

  At least May is finally here. That means I’m one day closer to meeting him. I called the sports store to make sure the event was still on. As of now it is.

  May 21

  Mesquite, TX

  It finally happened tonight. After three years of being a fan from afar I finally met Mesquite!

  He was doing an autograph signing to promote the upcoming PPV event that will be held in Dallas. To be honest I wasn’t even sure that I was going to get to go, due to a last minute project at work. But, lo and behold, I found myself standing in line with three hundred other eager fans.

  Excited energy filled the air and I couldn’t help but acknowledge the thrill in that moment. Most of the crowd was typical fans – wrestling t-shirt wearing fans that believed the storylines were real. I swear, if I heard one more person say X was Y’s brother in real life I was going to scream. I did see a few familiar faces, though.

  Afterward I had to wonder if it was the way I dressed that made Mesquite notice me. In my skirt, heels, and pink blouse, I’m sure I stood out. People said I didn’t look like I belonged at wrestling events, which always made me laugh. I belonged there as much as the next person. I just dressed differently.

  The line moved slowly, but gave me a chance to really watch him. He took his time with people he spoke to, making each individual feel special. I appreciated that. At other meet-n-greets the talent’s goal was to get out of there as fast as they could. Some barely even looked up. Not him, though.

  His blonde hair was longer than he usually kept it and the new look was kind of sexy. After his matches he would push that one stray piece that always fell across his face behind his ear and wink at the cameras. It drove the crowds wild and it turned me on. A lot.

  He, of course, was muscular, but not to the point that he looked ‘roided out. That look grossed me out. And his eyes… sweet Jesus, he had the bluest eyes. Today he wore black slacks and a blue shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but that same rogue piece kept escaping.

  He looked edible.

  The line moved again and I realized I was almost to the makeshift stage where he sat. There were only ten people between us and I wondered what I would say to him. I certainly didn’t want to embarrass myself. He looked up and did a double take. I smiled back, trying to remain calm, cool, and collected. Inside I was screaming like a fan girl.

  Oh my gawd! This was it!

  When I got up to the stage I held out my hand and introduced myself.

  “Hi. I’m Jamie. It’s so nice to finally meet you. And congratulations on your return at the PPV.”

  Not too lame. I was proud of myself. When I got nervous I had a tendency to ramble. Or cry. Thankfully I hadn’t cried this time. One time several years back, I might have hypothetically teared up after meeting one of wrestling’s biggest legends. He was so nice, though, and even took a picture with me, which was rare.

  Mesquite shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Jamie.”

  The way he said my name made me quiver in excitement.

  “You’re not the usual type to be at these things.”

  “I’ve been a wrestling fan since I was five.” I replied, feeling the need to assure him that I was a fan.

  “I’m sure you have been. Still - not the usual type.”

  His eyes ran my body up and down and I swear he undressed me mentally. Usually I wasn’t a fan of feeling like a piece of meat… but with him I didn’t mind. In fact I kind of liked it.

  “See something you like?”

  He grinned. “Oh yeah.”

  The handler that was in charge of keeping the line moving touched my arm and said, “Ma’am, you need to get your autograph and move on.”

  I slid the 8x10 photo that I had purchased across the table. Mesquite signed it with surprisingly beautiful handwriting. Then he motioned me to come behind the table to take a photo, which no other fan had done. I handed my phone to the handler and stepped around the side.

  Mesquite’s cologne teased my senses and made my pulse quicken. I was surprised when he stood, towering over me. He put his arm around me, pulling me close, settling his hand right on my ass. I slid my arm around his waist and smiled as the photo was taken. I couldn’t ignore it when he squeezed my butt, though, and jumped. Thankfully I didn’t squeal.

  “Are you going to the pay-per-view on Sunday? If you don’t have a ticket I can get you one. It won’t be a problem at all.”

  I stepped away from him. “I’m not a ring-rat.”

  As a female fan the assumption that I was a rat happened a lot. Often times other females would use the term to make themselves feel better. ‘Oh, she’s a ring-rat, that’s why she gets attention.’ It was the furthest thing from the truth in my case.

  He stared at me. “Okay. You’re not a rat. Still… are you going to the show?”

  Since that’s what he was there promoting it made sense that he would ask if the fans were going. At least that’s what I told myself.

  I nodded. “Front row, hard camera side.”

  When it came to seats I was spoiled. Anything after the third row was simply too far away.

  “I’ll see you then, sexy Jamie.”

  The handler handed me my phone and I caught a glimpse of our photo. Cute! It was definitely going on my desk at work. I made sure not to look over my shoulder as I left, but I could feel his eyes on me. I can’t even describe the thrill it gave me, it was hard to resist doing a happy dance.

  May 23

  PPVs were always my favorite event to attend. Everything is bigger and better than a normal event and the talent puts on the best show possible. I arrived to the arena about thirty minutes after the event started. I learned a long time ago that getting there early served no purpose except for annoying the hell out of me. Long lines were the worst, especially when not everyone had the best hygiene.

  Tonight I wore my ass-hugging jeans and a white tank top with little black hearts on it. My hair was
curled and my make-up was on point. I looked pretty dang good. First on the agenda was to get a beer before finding my seat. Sometimes the PPVs started off slow and a beer made me less cranky. The drink cost me nine bucks, but that was typical for an arena.

  As I made my way down the stairs I cursed myself for wearing heels. Not even the whistles in my direction made me feel better. Finally, I reached the landing and followed the signs to the section I was sitting in. My seat was hard-camera side, which meant that the cameras were behind me and I wouldn’t be on the TV broadcast.

  That was fine with me. I hated being on TV because my co-workers always gave me hell. They didn’t understand how a grown woman could possibly enjoy watching wrestling and I got tired of explaining my reasons. Pro-wrestling was entertainment at its finest and I wasn’t ashamed that I watched it.

  The first match was already underway, but it was low card wrestlers, so I hadn’t missed much. Saying it like that sounded crappy, but it was the truth. Hell, I was there to see Mesquite wrestle - no one else. I had been a fan of his since he joined and it’d been fun watching him become a main eventer.

  As I sat I noticed a couple of security guards that worked for the company looking at me. You could always tell them apart from the arena security guards. They actually looked like they knew what was going on as opposed to the arena guards, who looked lost.

  One of the guards was having a conversation with someone backstage through his headset. His eyes never left me as he spoke. My stomach fluttered and I wondered if someone had been waiting for me to arrive. There were cameras throughout the arena and the feed was broadcast backstage. It was possible…

  I shoved the idea from my thoughts. It’d be too much to presume that Mesquite would be looking for me after one meeting and I wasn’t one of those girls to get caught up in a fantasy. I’d heard of a lot of female fans that got trapped in the make-believe scenario. And it never ended well.

  They’d go to the shows and meet the wrestler of their dreams. In their minds they had an instant connection that no one else had. The wrestler would play up to them a bit because it was good to have a fan, even an overzealous one. Then the female would get mad when the wrestler talked to another female and drama ensued. So…no…I wasn’t one of those fans.

  The show went by fairly quickly. I tried to ignore the security guard who would periodically glance at me. Soon it was time for the final match. Mesquite’s music hit and the crowd jumped to their feet. I stood, too, and saw him come through the curtains, stopping to pose on the stage.

  His hair was hanging loosely and he looked so freaking sexy. He’s one of the guys who could get away with wearing either tights or the tiny trunks. Tonight he wore the black trunks that left little to the imagination. But I liked what I saw. A lot.

  His body glistened with oil and he flexed, getting a nice pop from the crowd. His opponent for the night talked some smack before Mesquite came running down the ramp and slid into the ring. The bell rang and I sat down, knowing I was about to see one hell of a match.

  I knew the match was over when he threw down his finishing move. Mesquite jumped on the nearest turnbuckle, waving to the crowd as his opponent hobbled away. When he got on the turnbuckle in front of me I could see his eyes scanning the front row. We locked gazes and he winked at me. I winked back, loving the thrill of the moment.

  He hopped off the turnbuckle and slid from the ring. After the last match it was traditional for the face, or good guy, to walk around the barricade and slap hands with the fans. He made his way around the ring and I knew he’d chosen this path on purpose.

  I’d be the last person he reached.

  When he got to me, he pulled me in for a sweaty hug. There was something so… animalistic about it and my mind rushed to a naughty place.

  Him.

  Me.

  Naked.

  YES.

  “Meet me at the Hyatt in the bar,” Mesquite said into my ear before pulling away from our hug.

  I nodded, watching him leave.

  A woman behind me grabbed my arm and said, “Oh my god! You’re so lucky! Do you know him?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Lucky!”

  She then cheered and jumped up and down. I turned my attention back to Mesquite. When he got to the ramp he did his signature pose, causing the crowd to go wild. People who were leaving even stopped on the stairways to watch. He waved one last time to everyone and then exited behind the dark curtain. That right there was why he was a main eventer.

  As I left the arena I tried to process his words… really, I tried to process his meaning. What was he hoping would happen tonight? I’d worked so hard not to be labeled as a ring-rat and yet I was actually considering what it’d be like to sleep with him. In moments like this I wished I had someone I could talk to who understood.

  I left my car with the hotel valet. Inside, the lobby was crowded with fans still hyped up from the PPV and I even caught a glimpse of a person dressed as a clown surrounded by a group of people. They looked like they were having so much fun and I was kind of envious, though.

  The bar was less crowded since hotel security was in place. Basically if you looked like a fan, they weren’t letting you into the bar. Luckily I didn’t, and was admitted in. There were a few people sitting at various tables and I saw some notorious rats as well. They sat clustered together as if their numbers made them look more appealing.

  I chose a spot at the end of the bar, away from everyone else. I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there to see what he wanted. Halfway through my second drink the wrestlers start arriving and they were full of energy. Mesquite wasn’t amongst them, but I wasn’t too worried. Since his match was last then it stood to reason that he would be one of the last ones to show up.

  Around eleven he came strolling into the bar looking delicious in jeans and a t-shirt. One of the rats called out his name, but he made a line toward me ignoring her and the others who were trying to get his attention.

  The bartender came over and Mesquite said, “I’ll take a shot of Patron and get the lady another drink of her choice.”

  “Patron sounds good,” I said. “Chilled with a lime, please.”

  Mesquite sat in the chair next to me. “Sorry it took so long. Some dumbass blocked my rental car in and I had to wait for someone to move it.”

  “No worries. Your match was great tonight.”

  “Thank you. Hopefully I’ll get the belt back in a few months if my leg doesn’t get any worse.”

  I’d noticed the limp, but didn’t say anything. Though the matches were scripted, injuries still occurred and could end a career. I prayed that wouldn’t be his case.

  Our drinks came out and we fell into easy conversation. We talked about what I did for a living and how he had almost became an accountant. We told stories about our families and said if we’d ever been married, which he hadn’t. For each question that he asked, I asked one in return and no one bothered us. It was nice being in our own little world and even nicer to have an instant connection with him.

  When his hand settled on my thigh I was glad. I’m not going to lie or even be coy. I wanted him to touch me. Badly.

  “So Jamie, you’re not a ring-rat and you’re not married. Are you seeing anyone right now?”

  What would he say if I told him I hadn’t been in a relationship in years?

  “No. I’m single. You?”

  He took a drink of Patron, as if he needed the liquid courage. I sat back, ready to hear what he had to say.

  “I’m going to be real honest here and I hope it doesn’t backfire. I’ve been engaged to the same girl for five years, but we decided to take a break. So, technically I’m single right now.”

  Ouch. That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

  “So you kind of have a fiancée?”

  “Yeah.”

  That made things difficult. I wasn’t a cheater. And even if they were only ‘kind of’ dating at the moment, I didn’t want to be responsible for wr
ecking a relationship.

  I voiced my thoughts and asked, “Do you want to be with her?”

  His answer was important. Before he could reply, the bartender announced it was near closing time. We needed to pay our tabs and find another place to go. Mesquite threw down cash to cover mine, too, even though I objected. As we walked from the bar he spoke in a low tone.

  “She’s more like a habit now. She’s used to my lifestyle and doesn’t get too upset about me being gone all of the time, like some women would. But it’s not love. I haven’t felt that way about her in a long time.”

  “If you think you’re going to break up with her then I’m more than willing to see where this is going. But if you’re going to try to work things out then this is where we say goodbye.”

  He looked me in the eyes. A girl could get lost in the blue depths staring back at me.

  “You know, this isn’t the type of thing I usually do. I try to stay to myself because there’s no drama that way. But ever since I saw you in that autograph line I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve wondered what would have happened if I had gotten your number.”

  So he had been thinking about me!

  “I think we would’ve still found ourselves having this same conversation.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my card. “Listen. When you figure things out give me a call or text. If you decide to work things out with her then I promise there won’t be any hard feelings.”

  What I really meant was I wasn’t the type to go crazy on his ass. He took the card from me and stared at it. I wondered what he was thinking.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise what?”

  “Promise me that when I make a decision you’ll answer my text.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t naive. He wouldn’t call or text. But at least I could leave with my head held high.

  May 29

  He texted today. Not going to lie – I’m glad he did.

  Him: Hey Jamie. This is Mesquite.

  Me: Hey

  Mesquite: I wanted to let you know that I’ve made a decision. I’m officially single