To The Stars - 4. March, 2018

Friday, March 9th

"You remember the last time we were in Trenton?" Diego asked mostly to himself. "Picnic by the river? Saw that show with the funny fat guy? Spent nearly a whole day without leaving our bed? I sure do."

"Me?" Rachel looked up at him, only just now hearing him speak.

"No girl! Me!" Ollie broke in, putting his big black hand on Diego's. "It was hella romantic. You don't know what you were missing!"

"Oh?" Rachel smiled and looked back down. "I didn't peg you for Diego's type."

"That's what makes it so scandalous," Gloria added, and the table of five collapsed into a fit of giggles. Even Diego. Perhaps he should have taken his hand away from Ollie's a lot sooner than he did, but he couldn't deny how good it felt to have someone touch him like that, even if it was a joke. Even if he was a guy. Rachel was still holding a grudge from the incident at Chuck E Cheese and barely even spoke to him at the moment. Kisses were all but extinct. Sex was completely out of the question.

Sean was smiling and laughing again. It was a considerable improvement from the sad sack routine that plagued the locker room for the last month. That kid definitely knew how to throw a world-class sulk. Diego felt incredibly shy looking at him. The dream he'd had of his friend two nights ago, the one that made him wake up sweating, panting and shaking with desire kept replaying through his mind. Ever since that day Ollie revealed that Sean Fox was an "insatiable power bottom," Diego had uncomfortable and intrusive thoughts about his younger friend. It's because he's pretty, Diego told himself. He's cute like a girl and you haven't had sex in weeks. That's what it is. It doesn't mean anything. Still, memories the mewls of ecstasy that escaped from the boy's mouth and the look of lust in his eye as Diego made love to him didn't go away. Sean was innocently doing a crossword with his glasses on and his hair in a messy ponytail, but Diego couldn't see him any other way now. It was just as well that their storyline had come to a close and they would likely not be wrestling each other for a while.

"An exotic fruit," Sean mumbled aloud, the end of the pen in his mouth. "Nine letters? Ends with a T?"

"Lovecraft," Diego suggested.

"Ohhh, son!" Ollie laughed hard and hooked Diego into a headlock. One by one, the others around the table began to make the connection, and soon everyone was in a fit of giggles. Even Rachel, the ice queen herself. Sean was so appreciative of this answer that he wrote it straight in and to hell with the crossword. Diego had no idea where the line was between homophobia and a funny joke. Absolutely none.

"I'll make it work," he wiped a tear from his cheek, his colossal smile a treat for sore eyes.

"Oh, speaking of exotic fruits," Rachel nodded her head to the side, and a hush came over the group. Lovecraft was approaching. Ugh. Everyone stopped looking at him. He was still in Coventry for his main event match against Jimmy, but it was much worse now. Since everyone believed that the British boy went over Michelle's head to steal another wrestler's push for glory, he was in the doghouse. Those who had been courteous to him in the past no longer spoke to him.

"Where is Michelle's office?" Lance didn't bother to greet them. There was no point, and he was rapidly becoming frustrated. He claimed he had nothing to do with Diego and Sean's switcheroo, but nobody believed a fame-hungry celebrity like him. "Can you all just act your ages, please?" He snapped, and Diego let out a derisive laugh. There was something about lectured on maturity by a twenty-two-year-old who still dressed like David Bowie that forced it out of him.

"Oh, grow up, old man. This affects you as well. Unless you think that bullying me is more important than your career," Lance's voice was unique to him. Deep, almost baritone, but with an incredibly effeminate edge.

"Bullying?" Ollie stood up, wincing on his bad leg and leaning on his crutch. He wasn't needed backstage while he wasn't medically cleared to compete, but every few weeks he liked to come along for the show and spend the weekend in his boyfriend's hotel room. "Hey kid, you think this is about bullying you?"

"What other way would you use to describe it?" Lance asked, turning his eyes to the big man. He wore very deep blue contact lenses tonight. They changed every week or so.

"I think justice is a good one," Ollie pointed at Lance. "You know, if you just put your head down, humbled yourself and did your time, you'd probably have a seat here with the rest of us right now, but you stepped the line, friend. Way over it. What you did to my baby? You can go to hell, Lovecraft."

"Mmhmm," Lance pursed his red lips - what man wears lip gloss? Seriously? Could Lovecraft be trying any harder to milk the gay boy in a man's world angle? It was cheap. It was pathetic. "Please, tell me all about how I spit on our culture and deserve all this petty, high school drama bollocks?"

"Hehehe, he said bollocks," Sean giggled quietly, and the girls both suppressed a smile as well.

"You stole my baby's push," Ollie was the only one who didn't find it funny. His voice changed, and he sounded angry and mean, a far cry from the vivacious Vickery they were so familiar with. "He worked his fine ass off wrestling in the kind of dumps you don't want to hear about for five years to get here ever since he was sixteen, and he worked what was left of his fine ass off for an opportunity to get to the main event. You don't deserve crap. You walk in here, you screw the opportunity you didn't deserve, and now you screw over my baby so you can stay at the front of the line. You're a piece of trash, kid. This isn't one of your reality shows. Why don't you walk back out that door before someone knocks your block off, huh?"

Rachel, Diego and Gloria all started to clap their hands in agreement. Ollie summed it up perfectly in terms even the rubbish English ponce could understand. Diego felt a flash of guilt run through him, though. As much as Lance deserved to be ostracised and excluded from the locker room, he was being blamed for something he didn't do.

"I don't need friends," Lance said, finally. He didn't sound so cocky anymore. "I'm going to succeed with or without you. All of you. Because that's what I do! You think you're the first group of people to decide you hate my guts for no good reason? Hah. I just don't understand why you're all so miffed with me when it was Michelle who made that decision, not me. You know who is also getting pushed over Fox? Diego Silva, sitting right over there, the one who is actually going to be wrestling in the main event, and you hypocrites don't even blink an eye. I'm glad all this happened, I really am, because now I can see you all for who you really are."

Ollie and Sean both whistled together. Gloria raised her eyebrows, and Diego could see she was forcing herself to keep her mouth shut.

"He's paid his dues!" Rachel exclaimed, grabbing Diego's hand. "Sixteen years, kid! That's most of your lifetime. Diego has been training and wrestling all over the world for sixteen years. You've been in the entire industry for sixteen MONTHS. We're pissed off because we know Diego's not the one the Blooms are pushing. It's you."

Ouch, Rachel, Diego thought, his eyes falling to the table. He knew it was the truth, but hearing it out loud was different. Even though Lance was only acting as a valet, he was the one drawing in viewers and garnering heat for the matches Diego was wrestling. That was why plans for Sean had been cut and Diego was in his place now.

"Oh, sure! Blame me because management actually likes me!" Lance threw up his hands in frustration. "It's obvious why they don't like you! Well, I suppose I'm sorry that I'm such a big draw. I suppose I'd be jealous of me too if I were in your position. What does it feel like to know you've put years of effort and work into your career, only to have the crowd more interested in someone who has been on KADA television for three months? I can see why you're all so devoted to this stupid vendetta against me. Especially you!"

He pointed his finger to Diego, his face twisted with rage. Lovecraft had finally broken.

"You should be throwing yourself on your knees for me! If it weren't for me, you'd have got the pink slip by now after working sixteen years and having nothing to show for it but one forgettable Tag-Team Championship reign. And that goes for the lot of you! Blame me for your lack of talent. Hate on me if you want. Throw shade at my career all you like. Doesn't matter. I'm one of a kind. But when I look back at you, I only see a group of generic, bitter, talentless, expendable, useless people."

The words hit Diego with the force of an elephant making love to a cat. The atmosphere changed. All five of them looked up at Lance with so much venom that it was a miracle the boy's skin didn't peel off.

"Okay honey," Gloria said tersely, standing up and speaking before any of the others did. She was experienced in locker room politics. "I understand you're very new here and we've been putting you through a hard time, so I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. If you want Michelle's office, it's back the way you came, second door on the right from the back entrance."

Lance's excessive eye makeup often made it difficult to assess what he was thinking, or how he was feeling, but right now, it was just pain. Not malice or hatred, exactly. He was just hurting. In spite of his words, he wasn't coping so well with the situation. He nodded and walked away, his designer shoes clacking loudly against the floor.

"You could have given him the wrong directions at least," Sean mumbled, his face screwed up in fury. "Shown him to the highway or something."

"I could have, but that would have just been kicking him when he's down," Gloria shook her head sadly. "I don't like doing this to someone. It's not like we have proof that he went over Michelle's head to the Queen Wasp, anyway. Margaret probably had one of her mood swings in the middle of the night."

"Of course he did," Diego snapped at her. "He's a brat. Spoiled little douchebag. When does Marg ever make Michelle change plans without a day's notice? He was in on it for sure."

"Hey, do you boys want to play a little prank on him?" Rachel asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"What do you have in mind?" Ollie asked curiously, and she grinned at him.

It was a little strange having Lovecraft in his corner during his matches. At ringside, the red boy was always vocal. Encouraging him, taunting his opponent and rallying the fans. He was energetic and drew attention to himself - which had its pros and cons. The match was supposed to be the priority, and Lance hadn't gotten the hang of when to showboat and when to direct the audience to Diego yet. Still, Diego scored another victory, this time against Giorgio Morelli. Giorgio was a jobber, paying his dues early in his career, but every victory made Diego look stronger. He needed them after his long streak of losses in the last quarter of 2017 to look like a suitable threat to Jimmy Vause's championship. Usually, Diego waited for Lance to get changed and get out to minimise the time they had to spend together, but he wanted to witness this for himself, and followed the red boy there. Lance stopped in his tracks when he saw his expensive designer clothes in shreds, Ollie and Sean still using the scissors they'd lifted from the seamstress to cut up the boy's gargantuan bowtie.

"Why?" Lance wailed, putting his hands to his mouth.

"Because don't appreciate clowns around here," Ollie told him coldly. "So since you don't seem to get the message, we thought we'd try a little harder to get the point across."

"Why though? Why would you-- why??" Lance sniffed, tears rolling from his eyes.

"Oh stop!" Diego rolled his eyes. "There's no crying in wrestling."

"This is NOT wrestling!" Lance shouted back at him. Loud. Angry. Sad. "Why would you actually go through my bag and destroy all my clothes? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh... I'm sorry," Sean said, putting the scissors down on the bench. "Were they expensive?"

"Yes, but don't let that stop you!" Lance wiped his eyes, streaking the obscene amount of mascara across his cheekbones. Gross.

"Well, it didn't stop you," Sean was furious and even a little scary. He was still dressed in his Captain America t-shirt and denim shorts, his hair tied behind his head and his glasses on his long nose. Most of the time he looked totally harmless, but Diego didn't like the look of rage in his eyes.

"It sucks when someone messes with you, doesn't it?" Sean continued, walking up to Lovecraft. Lance backed away from him but eventually hit the tiled wall, and Sean almost pressed their noses together. Diego went to separate them, but Ollie shook his head at him, and he stayed put. "Do you even realise what you did to Ollie and me? This isn't just about who gets to be on television, you know! My boyfriend is injured and he won't be able to get back in the ring for months yet. He's not working shows, so he's not getting any money. I'm the only one who brings home a paycheck right now! Do you know what else I bring home? Debt! A mortgage! Bills and taxes! Ollie's medical costs! We aren't made of money, Lance!"

As Sean ranted, more tears streaked black down Lance's face. Sean seemed to go from angry to upset the longer he spoke. Although he was several inches shorter than the red boy, he still seemed to tower over him.

"Getting that push meant getting the raise I needed to keep us above water. I did everything I could! I put myself at risk and I took bumps that even Jimmy Vause is scared to do! Oliver watched me go to sleep in pain every night for weeks. I finally got what I worked so hard for, and you've just gone and taken it all away from me, just like that. Now I get to keep asking my parents for money after I convinced them after ten years that I can make a career out of wrestling, all because you wanted to shake your ass at the end of the show instead of the middle of the card. So that's what the hell is wrong with me! I gave my entire life for this, and you were just handed your twenty minutes of fame!"

"But I didn't do anything!" Lance wept, hiding his face behind his hands. "I had nothing to do with that! I don't understand why you keep blaming me for something Mrs Bloom decided!"

"So you're saying you didn't go over 'Chelle's head?" Ollie snorted. "Because the only way she'd change her plans in the middle of the card is if Marg gave her the call, and Marg would only do that if some spoiled celebrity kid begged her for a second chance."

"I didn't!" Lance forced his way past Sean and grabbed his bag. "You're all psychotic! What happened to you guys to make you all so paranoid? Sod off the lot of you! And don't you ever touch my stuff again!" He stormed off and glared daggers at Diego on his way past. Diego smirked, and Lance shoved him with both his hands. "I'm glad you're having fun, but you're wasting your time!" He shouted. A small audience had gathered by now, and Lance looked around at all of them. Giorgio and Jimmy were there, as well as a handful of other male wrestlers. "If you think you can scare me away with this rubbish, you can all think again. Do you think I haven't been dealing with people like you my entire life? There's nothing I haven't seen before, and you can't scare me. Lovecraft is here to stay. Get used to it."

~

Saturday, March 17th

He whistled, and Sean finally saw him before sidling his way through the tables and taking a seat opposite him.

"I'm sorry! I had trouble seeing you," Sean explained, pointing to his eyes.

"Why aren't you wearing the specs?" Diego asked. "Am I too ugly to look at?"

"No, you're far too cute, it gives me a headache," the boy beamed back at him, and Diego felt his heart leap. Is Sean flirting right now? Or is he just being friendly? He couldn't ever tell the difference.

"You look great," Diego observed out loud, the words still feeling foreign to him. Too foreign. They were weird. He shouldn't have said that to a guy, and quickly backpedaled. "Not like a slowly developing teenage girl."

"Wow!" Sean pretended to be offended, combing his long hair back behind his shoulders. It looked nice when it wasn't bunched up. Pretty. "And you're wondering why Rachel decided to cancel on you. You could use some work on your bedside manner, Di!"

"Yeah, well, she and I haven't had a night out together since we had that fight a while ago," Diego sighed. "I can't say I was surprised, but I didn't want to waste a reservation."

"And I was your first choice to invite out?" Sean asked, beaming shyly. "That's so sweet of you!"

"Well, it seemed like a great choice, you know? Ollie's all the way down in Knoxville and Rach probably has Vause's hand down her shirt right now, so it makes sense to be lonely together," he explained, ignoring the racing of his heart at Sean's frequent compliments.

"How pragmatic of you," Sean teased him and rested his head on his cheek. "You could have just let me think you liked me enough to invite me out." He'd dressed up in a black collared shirt with a gray waistcoat buttoned up over the top. He gasped when he saw the prices on the menu he opened, and Diego quickly hushed him.

"It's fine, I've got the bill. Go crazy," he grinned, and Sean looked up in horror.

"I can't do that!" He stammered, closing the little booklet and placing it back down in front of him. "I'll be fine, it's fine."

"Sean, I mean it," Diego insisted while he drew his finger down the wine list. "I invited you out so we could have a good time, not so you could worry about money. Chill out. I've got this one, order anything you want. If it makes you feel better, you can just treat me next time you've got enough cash floating around."

"It's just... I don't know, kind of embarrassing," Sean admitted, reluctantly opening up the menu again. "I'm getting lectures from both my parents and Oliver's parents about spending my money wisely. I feel like Judas right now."

"Well, cut it out. I can't have fun while you're busy worrying about everything," Diego smiled up at him. "Consider it my way of thanking you for being such a good sport about the way our jobs have gone lately."

"Oh, well, in that case, you can treat me to a night out every week until Oliver gets cleared," Sean giggled, and Diego blushed. Joking? Being friendly? Flirting? They all felt like the same thing! He was confused and nervous and scared as well. He hadn't felt like this since he was in his twenties. He'd never felt like this with a guy. Do I like guys? The question was weird to him. I don't think I do. But I know I like Sean. And he's a guy.

"You know how sorry I am for everything, right?" Diego said uncomfortably. "If you need the money, you know I can spare some for you. I don't need you getting behind in bills and mortgage payments because Lovecraft cut the two of us ahead in the line."

"Oh please don't, Di," Sean shook his head and put his hand up. "I've just come to terms with you paying for dinner, and I'm still not quite okay with it. Don't even bring up the idea of paying for my house!"

"Any word on when Ollie might be back in action? I miss having him around every week," Diego wasn't entirely honest. When Ollie was around, Sean was all over him. It was irritating. Not gross. Irritating.

"What? Really?" Sean looked at him quizzically. "It wasn't until after he tore his ACL that we started to hang out more."

"Ahh, well, I'm sorry about all that," Diego sighed. "I suppose the gay thing always did make me a bit uncomfortable before I got to know you better. Truth be told, it still does sometimes, but I'm trying to get past it."

"You don't say," Sean smirked, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth.

"Hey, Sean... when did you tell your family you were gay and all that?" Diego asked, flipping over the card he'd been given when he arrived to blue. Blue if you needed service, red if you did not. Neat system, he thought. He hated having to wave down the wait staff.

"Erm..." Sean seemed a little stunned at the randomness of the question. "Seventeen I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious," Diego shrugged. "Did your parents support you and stuff?"

Sean's eyes fell to the elaborate patterns on the tablecloth below. "Of course they did. My family is my tribe and my tribe is my family. They love me and I love them. They support me and I support them. In everything. That's how it is."

"My sister is a lesbian," Diego revealed, and Sean's eyes returned to his. "She was seventeen at the time. I was twelve, I think? Well, my parents disowned her on the spot and we never heard from her again." The gorgeous young waitress chose a terrific time to arrive. After some debating, the men decided on an expensive bottle of red wine to share together before ordering their meals. Diego watched her pert little ass as she walked away, turning his neck pretty far.

"Don't hurt yourself," Sean laughed, and Diego turned back to him. "She was into you too, you know. Maybe you could score her number."

"How do you know?" Diego raised an eyebrow, taking another look over his shoulder.

"Should she have turned her head like the girl from The Exorcist? The same as you?" Sean was giggling without pause. "She made it look natural, you loser. She didn't want the whole world to know she was looking at your arms, ready to take a bite. You're about as subtle as a punch in the face, Silva!"

"You think I could get her number?" He asked, going to stare at her a second time but remembering Sean's words. I'm not an owl.

"Flip the card over. See if you're the first person she comes to," Sean's narrow eyes twinkled happily, and Diego nodded, turning the card from black to blue. Sean was right. It took her all of fifteen seconds to finish scribbling down her order before she came back.

"Hello again, did we miss something the first time?" She smiled with flirtatious black lips and smooth umber skin.

"Hi! Diego here was wondering if he could have your number," Sean answered for him. Diego felt his hands go cold. All the blood rushed to his face. "I think he likes you."

"Oh, is that so?" She let her hand brush against Diego's as she flipped the card back to black. "In that case, I hope you keep your receipt when you pay your bill. You let me know if there's anything else I can get for you, alright?" She played a little coy, but Diego could see her shooting occasional glances in his direction. Oh wow, she was such a beauty. Slim, tall and showing just the right amount of cleavage. She was exactly his type.

"You're welcome," Sean took a sip from his glass.

"Why would she want me to keep my receipt? What?" Diego asked.

"She's going to write her number down on it!" Sean nearly yelled at him, his eyes screwed shut. "You're so clueless, Silva! It's a miracle you haven't left your kids in the dryer or something! Gosh!"

"Oh!" Diego flushed. "Do you think she'll actually call me?"

"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "She looks like she wants a piece. You must get that a lot, a guy as bulky as you."

"Less often than you might think," he took a long swig from his glass. It was a brilliant cabernet sauvignon.

"I'd bet money that it happens all the time and you're just not noticing," Sean raised his head and grinned. "You're pretty hot. A lot of girls might want to ride the Silva bus."

"You think I'm hot?" Diego didn't mean to sound like a flustered fangirl, but he couldn't help it. Sean just seemed to push strange buttons he didn't know he had.

"Yeah?" Sean nodded casually after a while. "I think Rachel takes you for granted, to be honest. I wouldn't say anything to her if you wanted to have some time with the pretty waitress. Oliver doesn't mind if I sometimes see someone else for a night."

Wow. He has to be telling me something. Right? Maybe? No, or he wouldn't be trying to set me up with this bird.

"Well I'm certainly thinking about it," Diego smiled. "I might see how I feel later on." He did want to have an affair. So badly. It had been a very long time since he had an orgasm from someone else's touch. He'd like if it were the girl serving him wine tonight. He'd like it more if it were Rachel. He'd love it if it were the man he was beginning to realise he had a crush on. The flushed look of pure pleasure and passion on Sean's gorgeous face as Diego rocked into him kept flashing through his mind. It was only in his dreams of course, but that same dream kept waking him up at night, sometimes with a sticky surprise in his pyjamas and always covered in sweat.

"What's up?" Sean seemed to notice that things got awkward.

"Aah-- nothing," Diego smiled and took a panicked sip of his wine. He hoped nobody would notice how hard he got in his pants.

"I'm sorry to hear about your sister," Sean said to him, leaning his head on his hand. "Is that why you're kind of scared of homosexuality?"

"I... I don't know," Diego really wasn't sure he wanted to open that can of worms right now, especially with someone he fancied so much. "I guess I was just always taught that gay is wrong and it's hard to unlearn all that. If I've ever been unfair to you or Ollie, I'm really sorry, Sean."

"Is that the only reason?" Sean asked a delicate question, and Diego felt a flash of panic. Did he know? Was he aware? No. He couldn't. It wasn't real, it was just loneliness, that's all.

"Maybe," Diego bit his lip. "It's something I've just always wanted to avoid. I suppose it's just not going to work like that anymore. Lovecraft doesn't look like he is going away, as much as we try to make him. So, I'm going to have to just get used to a whole lot of it."

Sean nodded solemnly. "We'll be alright, Di," he promised. "We always are, in the end! There's no crying in wrestling, hey?"

The meals were terrific, and the rich conversation between them was even better. There was no distraction, no phone, no children. It was only the two of them and Sean gave Diego his undivided attention for the entire hour and fifteen minutes they were there. Gossip, horror tales of the small wrestling companies they both struggled through and laughter, comparing Michelle to that slug monster Roz from Monsters Inc causing a particularly strong laughing fit. When the gorgeous waitress, Hazel as Diego would soon learn, gave the receipt after they paid their bill and took their leave, there was indeed a message for him there, as well as her phone number. "I get off at eleven. I finish work at ten. Hazel x"

"That is definitely the girl for you!" Sean found the message hysterical, even if it took Diego a couple of moments to understand the sordid joke in the note. "You are so getting laid tonight! I'm actually a bit jealous. I have to wait until I get home on Monday!" If Diego were braver or bolder, he would have told his little friend that he didn't have to wait. They could get back to Sean's motel room and keep the neighbours up with noises of lust all night long and all the next day. Neither one had to be alone. They could have a lot of fun together. No, Diego thought. That was unacceptable. Sean was a man - as beautiful as he was, he was still a man. Not only that, but he had his own boyfriend, Oliver Vickery. There was no way Sean would say yes even if Diego did find the courage to ask him, and on top of that, Diego wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt like his relationship with Rachel was dead in the water, but she was still his girlfriend.

"Are you sure everything's alright, DiDi?" Sean asked again, pulling Diego mercifully from his thoughts. Diego nodded, but Sean wasn't convinced. "I mean, I only ask because you're holding my hand right now."

"Oh!" Diego quickly released it, embarrassed. He looked away. You idiot! How did you even do that without realising? "I literally did not notice that. I'm so sorry."

"I know you said I'm only here because Rach thought she had better things to do, but like... was this meant to be a date or something, Diego?" Sean asked timidly, tugging on Diego's little finger.

"I... I suppose," Diego sighed and turned to look at his friend, who had an expression of pity and sadness on his face, and he managed a laugh. "You don't have to take your clothes off. I'm not trying to score or seduce you, or anything like that. It was just nice to... well... you kind of made me feel like I did ten years ago, you know? You made me feel like I was attractive and fun again. I haven't been happy in a long time, I guess. I have four kids to three women. I'm not even allowed to see Troy anymore. Nina's always five seconds without supervision away from trying to Moonsault from the roof of the house. Julian likes to shove all sorts of crap in his mouth even if it's not food, and Jilly screamed for four hours last Thursday because the book I was reading her ran out of pages. I'm pretty tired all the time. When I try to get with Rachel, it's like getting blood out of a stone. When I wrestle, the fans really couldn't care less about me; they're busy drooling over limp Lance's pretty boy routine. So I suppose you could call tonight a date, even if it wasn't meant to be. I'm sorry. Perhaps I just felt like I really needed a win. Honestly, I'm lonely. I just really wanted to feel like someone wanted to spend time with me. That's all."

"I understand," Sean reached back for Diego's hand and squeezed it warmly. "I did want to spent time with you! And I thoroughly enjoyed myself! Between us, Oliver's ideas of dates leave a lot to be desired. It was a lot of fun to do something tonight that wasn't just finding somewhere to have sex or eating in a food court. So, I had a lot of fun. I'm glad you invited me. I hope you had fun too! I'm sorry you're so unhappy. I didn't know about that, and I wish I made an effort to ask. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, I'm okay," Diego beamed down at him. "Thanks for understanding. I feel better already. I suppose I better back to Rachel and pray that Hazel wasn't going to give me the best night of my life."

"Not even a hug?" Sean's lips curled cheerfully, and Diego couldn't resist.

"Yes, please," he gave in, and Sean came close and pulled him tight into an embrace. Diego ignored his instincts and wrapped his arms around the slighter man. He felt so much better already.

~

Friday, March 23rd

Diego remembered being summoned into the principal's office many times during middle and high school. A precocious little bastard he was. No doubt he was paying for his sins by raising two daughters were exactly like him and son who was gearing up to be a huge disappointment. He was a pest, he knew that now. Insolent and defiant, broken windows, fights and several times he was caught with his tongue down a girl's throat or his hand under her clothes. Principal Bennett was very similar to Margaret Bloom in a lot of ways but far less terrifying. The worst Miss Bennett could do was suspend him or expel him, and so what? School was for losers. Margaret though, she was a particular kind of scary. She had nicknames. The Ice Queen. The Queen Wasp. Michelle once dropped "Slut Features" when she'd been down half a bottle of whisky. A word from Margaret, and Diego would find himself out of a job. Same for the other three in the room.

Oliver Vickery was here, his knee braced and extended. He'd grown a small black beard on his face - once groomed, Diego thought he'd grow to like it. Sean Fox was next to him, smartly dressed in a white shirt with black trim and his hair in a very tight bun. Lastly, Lance Lovecraft rounded out the crew, wearing what appeared to be the exact same clothes that the boys had shredded two weeks ago. Well, the kid was worth millions, apparently. It wouldn't be hard for him to replace them. Michelle was chewing gum obnoxiously loud, sitting behind her desk. Marg was sitting on it. She was an attractive woman - but much of it came from having parts of her removed and stuffed and plucked and stretched by a plastic surgeon. She was a businesswoman to the core, efficient, cold and ruthless. Nobody liked seeing her around - it meant something was going down. Problems, disruptions, bad news... it was usually Marg who stopped by to clear the crap out of the way when things got ugly. Diego had an idea what this was about. Lance had snitched to her about what had been going on. The embarrassed look on Michelle's face said it all.

"So we've had some problems," Marg started, using her hands to do most of her talking. Her Southern Alabama accent was so strong that Diego occasionally didn't understand everything she said. "And these problems are gettin' in the way of business, and that creates more problems. Now, two weeks ago during the night's show, I believe when Miss Sokolov and Miss Nakata were havin' their Women's title match, you three boys were involved in destroying some of Mr Lovecraft's personal property, am I correct?"

"Yes," Sean answered quickly and honestly. Marg didn't wait for more answers. She didn't waste time.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Marg asked Sean in that dangerously sweet voice she had. She occasionally called herself the Queen Bee, but nobody agreed. Michelle was the Queen Bee. She only used her stinger when she had to, and when she did, it left her gutted. Margaret, though? She stung whenever and whoever she damn well wanted, as many times as she cared for. She was the Queen Wasp. Her voice had a calming, charming lilt to it, but it was merely the lure of the anglerfish before she swept in to devour her prey.

"I was angry at him," Sean explained. He was scared. He was in trouble. "I only wanted to show Lance what it feels like to have someone ruin things for you."

"Sweetheart," Marg smiled down on him, her thick platinum hair cascading off her shoulders. "Mr Lovecraft did not ruin anything for you. I made that decision. In fact, Mr Lovecraft has not spoken to me since the first night he was here."

"Oh?" Sean looked like someone punctured a hole in him. Diego could see the resolve and comfort shooting from him like a geyser, leaving him quivering in fear and shame.

"Yes, 'oh' indeed," Marg mocked him. "I decided that you were just not ready to step up to the main event. I will admit that you did start to convince me I made the wrong decision, perhaps you could have been returned to the main event in the next few months, but now I see you have maliciously targeted another competitor backstage and torn up his belongings? Mr Fox, this is unacceptable. You have only proven to me that I was wrong about you all along. You are certainly not mature enough to be a role model in our company." Keeping his jaw firm and his eyes dry, Sean nodded, but Diego could see he was thoroughly ashamed of himself. There's no crying in wrestling, Sean. Keep it together. For all of us.

"You, Mr Vickery?" Marg's wrath snapped to the person on the left. This was so stupid and so childish. They were grown men, all of them, being lectured about tearing up some clothes - clothes that were abominations anyway. Marg should be giving them medals instead of dressing them down.

"It was all my idea," Ollie lied. It had been Rachel's idea, but she'd managed to escape the report. There was no need to do rat her out now that they'd already been summoned by the Wasp.

"This had nothing to do with you, sweetheart. You're supposed to be at home resting up on that leg of yours for your much-awaited return, but if this is how you behave, I don't think I want you back at all," Marg said with a condescending smirk on her face. "What were you doing backstage and why were you concocting this ridiculous display? Tell it all and tell it true."

"Lance made some cruel and hurtful comments to us earlier that night. It was a joke we played to get out back on him," he shrugged. "You know how the locker room is." Diego saw Michelle roll her eyes, and with good reason, Marg's nostrils flared and she took her weight off the desk to stand tall on her massive stilettos.

"If you mistreat a co-worker long enough, chances are they might have something to say about it," Marg sniped, blissfully unaware of how much everyone in the company despised her. "All you managed to prove is that Mr Lovecraft is a more mature and professional talent than you are. Congratulations, sweetheart. Between that knee and the foot you shot yourself in, it doesn't look like we'll be seeing you until Christmas, does it?" Wow, Marg was in a hell of a mood today, Diego thought. He swallowed hard as her pale azure eyes found him next. Great.

"Mr Silva? Would you like to tell me about your role in this display of schoolboy drama?" Marg asked him. No, I wouldn't, Diego thought, but what choice did he have?

"I didn't cut up any clothes," he protested, and he instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say. Not only did both Michelle and Marg glare at him, but he saw Ollie and Sean both narrow their eyes as well.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Marg didn't even put on her diplomatic voice. She shouted. "You were there! You let it happen! You actively encouraged them! You're one of our veteran performers, and I expected much, much better from you, especially after I put my faith in you and placed you in that main event spot you've been crying about! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"That I'm sorry?" He shrugged. Lance began to speak, but Marg talked over him before he could get whatever he wanted to say across.

"You are to be seen and not heard, Mr Lovecraft," she told him icily, and the boys all tried not to laugh. Michelle was flipping Marg off behind her back.

"Alright, I think we've done enough here," Marg folded her arms and leaned back against the desk again. "Because I'm in a good mood today..." Diego fought the urge to scoff out loud. "I don't think I'm going to fire anyone. Mr Silva, you are on notice. If you're not up to the task of leading the locker room, then I will find someone who is. Do you understand me? Mr Fox and Mr Vickery, you're both very valuable commodities to the company. I could take you from television, but I'm a businesswoman, and that would be bad for business. And just in case any of you little boys are thinking about reprisals of any kind, I want you to remind you that the locker room was full of witnesses that day. You were wrong about Mr Lovecraft two weeks ago, and I'd hate to see you make that mistake again. Instead of trying to scapegoat a snitch, just try to make Ms Peterson's job a little easier, would y'all? Good day, gentlemen." With that, Marg strode her way out and shut the door behind her.

"Christ on a cross, boys, what the hell is wrong with you all?" Michelle was finally allowed to speak now that her employer was gone.

"We don't need another serve," Diego told her, but she smacked the desk.

"Well tough titties Silva, because you deserve one!" She snapped. "I can't believe this! You kids know better than that!"

"I'm so sorry," Sean pleaded, and she rolled her eyes.

"Then it's all behind us, alright? You don't have to love each other unconditionally and braid each other's hair and spoon each other in bed unless that's your thing," she directed her last comment to Ollie and Sean. "But we all have to work together, alright? If we don't, Margaret frickin Bloom's gonna come down on everyone. That prissy bitch doesn't know what it's it like in the trench lines. I love all four of you as if you're the ingrates I squeezed out of my body between a bottle of scotch and my fourth cigarette!" Michelle, gross."You're all valuable in different ways, so please don't ruin that for everyone. I don't need you fired because Marg thinks you're a problem. Don't do this to me again."

The meeting finally over, all four were as good as kicked out of the office. Ollie and Sean didn't have a lot to say and left together, as fast as Ollie's limping on his crutch would take him. Left alone with Lovecraft, Diego felt nothing but scorn when Lance's eyes met his, so he turned and left the red boy behind.

"You and I are going to talk!" Lance called out, but Diego ignored him, incensed by the impertinence. "Hey!" He heard Lance's shoes clacking on the floor as he ran to catch up to him. Lance's hand grabbed Diego's shoulder and forcefully turned him around. "When are you going to stop this bloody rubbish?" Lance's red contacts made his eyes look as though they were on fire. "I'm getting really tired of you making everything harder than it needs to be!"

"What do you mean 'this bloody rubbish?'" He exaggerated the last three words, speaking them in Lance's irritatingly posh accent.

"Don't play stupid, I'm not in the mood!" Lance snapped at him with a ferocity that had only come out in recent weeks since he took the blame for what happened to Sean's career. "I know you're desperate to see my tight ass walk out those doors for good, but was low. Even for someone like you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Diego lied, unnerved by the sudden intensity of the conversation.

"I never made that call because I would never, ever steal an opportunity from someone else, even if I hated them!" Lance looked around and lowered his voice in case anyone was ready to overhear them. "I started competitive dancing when I was six. I started modeling when I was fourteen. I've been on the Weakest Link and two seasons of reality shows. So yeah, Diego, I might be a newbie in the wrestling industry, but I've been in the entertainment industry long enough to spot a snake. One of us went under the radar to score us the main event slot, and it wasn't me! But you made bloody sure everybody thought I did! You're filthy."

"You can't prove anything," Diego replied, folding his arms and looking intimidating. To his surprise, Lance folded his arms too and took the one step to put them almost nose-to-nose. He was maybe a whole inch shorter than Diego was, and at least fifty pounds lighter, but the smaller man showed no fear at all.

"Nor can you prove I was the one who snitched," Lance raised an eyebrow, and Diego realised that he'd been played by both the pommy ponce and that horrible plastic woman. He must have shown his surprise and dismay on his face, because Lance winked at him. "So, Mrs Bloom has reassured everybody that I didn't stab Sean in the back to get us in the main event spot, but somebody did, didn't they? Blimey, Diego, I know you hate my guts, but he's your friend! How could you do that?" When Diego couldn't find words to reply with, Lance sighed and looked at him with such disgust. "I'm not going to blow the whistle, alright?" Lance looked down at his hands. "I think it's best if we just let everybody think Mrs Bloom made that decision on her own - unless you try and push me again."

"Nobody will believe anything you say," Diego warned him, stepping forward and nudging Lance with his chest.

"I don't know about that," Lance sprung back and kissed Diego on the mouth so suddenly that the Brazilian reeled back. Diego wiped his mouth with his hand and looked up at the smirking boy, furious and embarrassed. "I think I can make a pretty good case about you. All you have to do is stop this crap and be a professional, and I'll never have to tell Sean what you did. I don't want to be the reason he finds out what a twat you are, but I'll do it. I'm done being the whipping boy around here. See you next week, Diego. I can't believe I wasted eight years being your biggest fan."

Damn everything, Diego thought, despair, guilt and shame flooding his body from head to toe. Now I'm in trouble. He watched Lance walk cockily away, a new spring in his step, while the veteran of the business felt empty and scared. He could trust the red boy not to slander him to Sean, couldn't he? It's not slander if he's telling the truth, he reminded himself. Sean would never believe him, though. Right? Oh dear. He'd done everything he could think of to get rid of that little monster, but it seemed he lost the war - and done some pretty bad things in the process.