Modern Mata Hari

[Queen Melody]

Tuesday it is then. I would expect nothing less than you looking a million dollars as all queens should and as you always do...and I’ll do my best to look the part

It was still officially summer, but the night had started coming sooner and sooner. The night skyline of Los Angeles sped past the window of the uber black I'd ordered. Cyrus was already waiting at Maestro’s, the innocent enough text message had come through a couple minutes earlier. Our dinner ‘date’ was meant to be discreet, and I hoped the higher end clientele in the Hollywood Hills would be enough to keep prying eyes at bay. My pulse almost beat visibly at my wrist as I glanced at the time on my Fitbit.

Why am I nervous?

I squirmed in my seat, my eyes fixated out the window on the passing buildings. I'd spent a couple of evenings drinking and joking around with him before Night of Champions. Why was I suddenly so worked up about a simple dinner date? It was as though we had anything sordid planned for the evening. Hell by all accounts, as far as anyone outside of the two of us knew, it was reparations for trying to kick me into next season. Yet I couldn't shake the image from my head. Standing backstage at Night of Champions in the America's Most Hated locker room, fresh from my post-match shower as the big screen tv followed Scorpio on his long descent down to the flaming tables. Cyrus had survived the insanity cage. I kept my face as stoic as possible but something must've crossed my face to betray my satisfaction. Dominic shot me a look before he left the room, heading out for his own announcement.

I knew the look.

The disdain. The assuming glare that begged me to protest. I could almost hear his voice, accompanied by a sneer.

Say something Mata Hari.

I hadn't exactly hidden my extracurriculars with the kilt bros leading up to Night of Champions. I didn't have a reason to. There were no shenanigans or subplots afoot. There was nothing suspect between myself and Kyle and at least… at the time, nothing between Cyrus and I. Of course, since Night of Champions things had gotten a little… cloudier.

After Thunder, we decided to clear the mini bar and play a little game…
Twenty questions.
One rule.
No talk of work.

“Flying or driving?”
“Driving. If you could fight anyone in the ring, who would it be?”
“Living or dead? Ashton Drake. He’d make me famous. Boxers or briefs?”
“Kilt, obviously. Dating people outside of the industry?”
“Not anymore. It’s too hard. Red or White?”
“Wine?”
A smile played at the corner of my lips, bringing my own glass to my lips.
“Sure.”
“Red. It goes well with Black.”
He winked and I chuckled, setting my glass down on the coffee table in front of us.
“Locker room hook-up, yay or nay?”
“Last time I did that, I lost. So I’m gonna say nay. How far is this going to go tonight?”
“How do you like your eggs in the morning?”

What happens in Canada, stays in Canada. It started out a joke of a hashtag, but was it? Each day I spent in Canada after Night of Champions, the lines became more and more blurry. Casual conversation turned into tongue-in-cheek innuendo, and by Thunder we were up late into the night. Together. Drinks in hand as we played this dangerous game of cat and mouse.

“Why Draco?”
“I thought I said no talking about work.”
“It’s not work I’m asking about.”

In that moment, the subtle game we were playing suddenly stopped. If there was any noise in the room, I didn’t hear it anymore. Silence fell around us and the gravity of what exactly I was doing started to bear down on me.

“I suppose… he gave me something no one else did. I felt like I belonged somewhere. To something. Someone. It’s like, imagine the way you felt when you met Kyle and Dave. You found kindred spirits and the world flipped on you, right? It made me feel like I could take on the world.”
“Not kindred spirits though, you’re not like Draco.”
“Maybe I’m more like him than you think… now, my turn. If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”
“Here. Now. What kind of feeling are you getting here, tonight, with me?”

By the end of the pay-per-view, the cogs had all clicked into place. Cyrus was officially enemy number one to virtually everyone in America's Most Hated. Iggy wanted his International championship. Dominic wanted the Undisputed championship. Draco wanted Cyrus' head on a golden platter. And here I was, riding to meet the proverbial man of the hour himself. One on one. Only this time, it wouldn’t end the same way it did in Nova Scotia.

“Last question. A gentleman like you would never put a lady like me into a compromising position, would you?”
My voice purred, my face inches from his. His head shook, eyes sparkling between the drinks and the glow of the fireplace.
“Never.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

It wasn’t the right thing to do. I knew that. We knew that. Now, we were back in the States and well… what happened in Canada? Needed to stay in Canada. I was back in league with my teammates, and I had to get back into the right mindset. On paper, I was the only one of us who didn't want to throw down with the new Undisputed champion. Was he expecting different after everything that had happened? Especially with the way the rest of my teammates looked at him like a pack of wolves staring down a wounded caribou? I couldn't help but wonder if deep down he expected me to go rogue.

You're being ridiculous.

I chided myself as the uber turned right. More lights sparkled through the window as I exhaled deeply. They were my teammates, yes. I had an obligation to be loyal to them and whoever stood against one of us, stood against all of us. That’s part of being a team. It’s part of being hated. I stand with the others, because they’re all I’ve got. Nobody exactly comes running up to America’s Most Hated to shower us in love and adoration. No matter how much we may deserve it. So that meant, when all eyes were on me? I had to fall in line with the pack. No excitement, no happiness in his success. He may be my friend? But as far as America’s Most Hated were concerned, he deserved no applause whatsoever.

Of course, I had gotten an entirely different… ovation from Cyrus after Thunder.

I shielded my eyes from the sunlight that poured from the window, rolling away from the light and finding myself staring at the still sleeping, and very shirtless Cyrus Black. I sank down into the mattress and pulled the blanket closer, the dull after ache of what had happened last night finally catching up with me. I should have felt guilty, but satisfaction had overruled the rest of my senses. Last night flooded back, and as my gaze lingered for a moment, he too rolled over and an arm reached out until it touched bare skin. There was no response other than a satisfied smile before that same arm pulled me closer.

I was supposed to take solace with the Hated after Uprising. After watching Robbie Rayder tap out Stitches before I could make the save. I was supposed to celebrate with them when Draco and I got our tag team title redemption. To celebrate when Iggy and Dominic got their rightful chances to. For all of us, as one, to celebrate finally getting our due. But I couldn’t. There was that nagging voice in the back of my head, still, asking me if I was making these decisions for the right reasons. Asking me if I was putting the right emphasis on the right people.

“I just hope someone doesn't get lost within their own thoughts and been there for someone, when you have to think about your career also and where you should be.”

“That wasn’t about you, stupid.”

I muttered, shaking my head before leaning back into the seat with a ‘hmph’. It wasn’t directed at me, of course. It couldn’t have been. However… after a particular grueling night after failing on Uprising, you know that old saying…. If the shoe fits? They weren’t exactly the Louboutins that Scorpio wore into the Insanity Cage, but they were definitely the right size.

Which made this all the more difficult.

“Be thankful the Undisputed championship isn’t 24/7. Pretty sure I would’ve won last night.”
“Slapping your ass isn’t the same thing as tapping out.”
“Felt like I won anyway.”
I said with a shrug and a sly smile.

I had already conquered the biggest mountain Future Stars had to offer. Draco and I were slated to capture the tag team championships, if we had anything to say about it anyway, and then… what was next? Iggy was already firmly in command of the International scene, and Dominic Sanders for the better part of 2019 was the Undisputed scene. Draco’s achievements preceded him, and that left me with the burning question that had eaten away at me since the night I read those words.

Where does it leave me?

Cohesion is the cement that binds teams together. You don’t win championships without playmakers. You don’t win championships without good defense. But what happens when your veritable third line player suddenly wants first line minutes? Of course, then there’s always the question… what happens when that third liner takes the first line minutes?

What does that do to the team dynamic?

It hadn't really been an issue had it? We had all known our place. We knew where we stood in the pecking order and we stayed in our lane. Watching the replay later of Kyle and Cyrus have it out in the insanity cage only to exit with the same mutual respect and (platonic) love for each other was mystifying. Could I expect the same out of my own teammates?

Because it was coming.

For two days, we lounged around the historic Lord Nelson Hotel. My inner turmoil cast aside the same way my dress from Thunder hung half draped across the ottoman at the foot of the bed. I felt like I didn’t have a care in the world, stealing tense glances at my host as we passed by one another through the suite. Subtle notes, like my “looking for my shirt” as I searched the suite in next to nothing, or a laptop left open to a modern translation of the kamasutra. Hints dropped left and right, and no advance left unreciprocated. Two days that somehow still seemed to pass in an instant before we slipped out of the hotel through separate exits, to separate rides, to fly back to the U.S.

Whispers were already being heard backstage about the upcoming Rumble at Night of Champions before the show was even over. No one knew where it was going to be held, and no one knew anything about getting into it…. But there were two things I was absolutely certain of. That the winner would go on to get a shot at the Undisputed Championship at Wrestlefest and?

I wanted it.

“Alright. We’re here.”

The uber driver’s voice snapped me out of my self-inflicted haze and I smiled, tucking my clutch under my arm before giving him a nod.

“Thanks love.”

As I stepped out of the car, I could see Cyrus inside the restaurant. True to his word, he looked every bit the modern gentleman. For as much as he joked about trying to compare to me looking like a million bucks, he wasn’t far behind.

I took a minute, checking my hair in my phone’s camera before slipping it back into my bag and adjusted the positioning of my dress. On the horizon I had a guaranteed shot at ReBelle and the tag team championships. Beyond that, I knew that I was capable of winning the Rumble and challenging for the Undisputed championship. Whether that meant having to get into the ring with my teammate Dominic Sanders, or my impending date Cyrus Black would remain to be seen. All I could do was let it go, and whatever happens? Happens.

As I pushed open the door to the restaurant, Cyrus and I locked eyes and he gave me a grin and waved me over. I couldn’t tell if my face flushed or not, but those final thoughts echoed in my ear as we gave each other mutual kisses of greeting on the cheek. He offered up his arm as the maitre d led us toward a private table toward the back of the restaurant.

Whatever happens? Happens.