Once we’re inside the arena, Jesse and I go our separate ways. He heads off to get his script and see what tonight’s show has in store for him and I take the elevator up to the executive suites where I know I’ll find my dad and Uncle Allen. I can hear their loud voices as I walk down the carpeted hallway. The geometric pattern plays tricks on my eyes and makes me feel off balance. Kind of like spending hours in Jesse’s company does.

“Hello,” I call out, stepping inside. I return my uncle’s wave and pull out the chair across the table from him.

“Lilah, dear. How did the trip go?” Dad asks, drawing my attention to where he’s seated, to my left, at the end of the table. Never one to let his alpha status go unnoticed, he always chooses to sit at the head. The ‘power seat’ as he likes to call it. I have a different name for it - the ‘ego seat’. Anyone who sits there gets an ego boost from doing so.

“It was fine. We worked out some things for new content. We’ll see how it goes.”

“When do we get to hear these ideas?”

“When I don’t have someplace else to be.” My answer is impertinent, but I’m tired and annoyed after the long car ride. Fortunately, dad decides to cut me some slack by ignoring my tone.

“I’m looking forward to hearing what you guys came up with.”

“Keep your eyes on his social media accounts,” I say, hinting at what’s to come.

After we ironed out some details on upcoming events, I head to wardrobe. Everything’s on racks in two of the locker rooms - one for the ladies and one for the men.

“What can I do for you, Lilah?” Melanie, one of the wardrobe ladies, asks.

“I need some business wear and all I have with me are casual clothes.”

She looks me over assessing my size before searching through one of the racks of clothes. “Here, this should work.” She hands me a black pencil skirt, a gray blouse and black heels to match.

Glancing at the sizes on the garments I notice they’re correct. “Wow, you’re amazing. You can tell all that just by looking at me?”

She smirks. “Your father may have had me keep clothes on hand in case you ever need them. You have your own rack.” She gestures to the long line of clothing items suspended from hangers. Stepping closer I notice there’s everything from sweatpants to dresses and all from the most upscale designers.

How did I not know about this?

“Pfft, you know this shouldn’t surprise me at all, but it does.”

“Your dad never leaves any stone unturned.”

“No, I guess he doesn’t.”

Once I’ve changed into my professional ensemble, I head to hair and makeup. As I step inside the room they’re set up in, I hear Jesse’s deep chuckle accompanied by a high-pitched giggle. I roll my eyes in disgust. Dude just can’t help himself and heaven knows women are powerless to resist him. I’m not sure how I’ve combatted the attraction so long.

Jesse catches my gaze in the mirror he’s facing as I make my way to a vacant seat. He looks good - too good, but I’m going to shut down all thoughts of him. And I refuse to think about how his gray eyes often sparkle mischievously. I’m going to distract myself from noticing how his brown hair is carefully styled and how sexy his bare chest is when the makeup artist pulls the black cape away. Fantasizing about tracing the black and gray gun and skull tattoo on the right side of his ribs with my lips and tongue is a definite no no.

“What can I do for you?” Maisy, one of the makeup artists, steps up behind my chair. “Hi there.” I smile. “I need my hair and makeup to look professional.”

“Oh, piece of cake.” She snaps her fingers. “It’ll be a nice change from what I usually do.”

I spend the next thirty minutes getting styled and when Maisy tells me to look in the mirror, I’m pleasantly surprised at what I see. Aside from the lighter hair color and tan complexion, I look like my every day self, only better. “Wow, you did a great job.”

“It doesn’t take much work with your natural beauty.”

My next stop is to find Jesse and finalize the details of our spot. The backstage area of the arenas that World Class Wrestling holds events at is always a whirlwind of activity. There are male and female performers, production assistants, food service personnel, medical staff and countless members of the road crew all preparing for the show scattered throughout the maze of corridors and doors. I’m always impressed by the overall level of efficiency and sheer size of the operation my father commands.

Everyone smiles as I exchange passing hellos with several of the wrestlers. I know most of the support staff by name and end up stopping to have a few small catch-up conversations during my search. I find Jesse hanging out behind the main performer’s entrance, talking with Wyatt and surrounded by several other male and female stars on the card tonight. They’re all buzzing around him like flies. It’s obvious something is happening.

As I get closer to the group I hear two men shouting behind the door to a small conference room. One of the voices I recognize clearly as my father’s.

“I’m the one signing the checks around here, so you will do it and you’ll sell it like you’ve never sold to the crowd before, or you can just leave that title belt with me and walk right now.”

Within seconds the steel door crashes open, slamming against the concrete wall with a bang that echoes down the length of the corridor. WCW World Heavyweight Champion Jimmy “Golden Boy” Holley storms out.

The gathered wrestlers all quickly disperse, except for Jesse, who stands directly in Jimmy’s path, grinning like a kid who’s just lit a wick and is waiting for the fireworks to start. The Golden Boy is careful to step around him before continuing toward the locker rooms, kicking two chairs and upending a craft-services table along the way.

Jimmy Golden Boy Holley is the current face of World Class Wrestling and has been for the last four years. He’s been in the business for the better part of twenty years and has earned his spot at the top. Jimmy is the perennial hero in every storyline and match he wrestles. With a bodybuilder’s physique, a clean-cut, all-American look and a common man persona, he has a solid and loyal following among the fanbase.

Jesse watches the champ stomp down the hallway and then turns back to face me. “Well now, look at you. You clean up nice.” He grins, pivoting around in what I can only assume is an attempt to get a look at my backside.

“Did I miss all the drama?” I try to ignore him.

“Not yet.” He smirks, and I can still see the mischief lurking in his eyes.

Jesse and I have a quick conversation about how to best set up and position for my “spot”. His promo is the lead up to the night’s main event and just over an hour away and he’s all business. We speak briefly, until he excuses himself, walks down the hall in the same direction as Jimmy Holley and ducks into the same locker room the Golden Boy just entered moments ago. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but I don’t hear any shouting, or the violent banging and crashing sounds of a struggle.

I don’t see Jesse again until five minutes before his promo.

“Hey there boss lady, you ready?” He’s all smiles again.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” I try to sound like I’m kidding. I’m not.

“Just breathe and try to enjoy it. You never know, things may get interesting.” Jesse slides his hand across the small of my back and laughs as he steps over to prep with the television crew.

My stomach is in knots and I’m sweating profusely. I don’t want to be on camera at all. This is not what I signed on for.

I collect myself as I move over to the edge of the curtained interview area and take a couple of slow, deep breaths. I can’t believe I’m getting ready to make my debut appearance in a World Class Wrestling storyline. At least I don’t have to say anything. My lips feel numb right now and I doubt I could get them to form the necessary words.

The match out in the arena ends on schedule and the ringside tv announcers send the live broadcast backstage for Jesse’s interview.

The camera operator holds out three fingers and silently drops his hand once, twice... and we’re live.

Kelly Kane, one of the company’s more popular female on-camera interviewers introduces Jesse. He arrogantly struts into the camera shot with an intense scowl on his face, dressed in jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He looks dark and sexy, but why is he in street clothes?

“Jesse, how do you justify betraying your partner in such a brutal manner? And how do you explain your actions of late?” Kelly questions.

Jesse stares at the floor in silence for a moment, then grabs the microphone from her hand. “You’re all done here,” he states dismissing her. “I’m putting everyone on notice.” Jesse begins to angrily rant about the people who have all the power in the business and wrestlers whose time is up.

I watch in silence and can’t help but wonder if this is part of the script or has he gone insane?

Kelly Kane, now standing off camera, throws her arms up in a confused manner toward the backstage television crew. Her reaction does nothing to answer my question.

Apparently, the production crew and backstage manager aren’t sure either. They argue back and forth in angry whispers over what to do before they cut his microphone. The camera shot kicks back to the ringside announcers for the main event and they cue up the Golden Boy’s entrance music.

Jesse looks furious. The other performers in the area step away and give him some space. I’m lost in indecision of what to do when Jesse turns and sprints down the hallway leading to the general admission entrance of the stadium.

Where the hell is he running off to?

The production assistant filming me with the cell phone looks at me and then darts off in the same direction after him.

Jimmy Holley steps slowly through the interview area, wearing the title belt and sporting a huge smile on his way to the ring. I find myself instinctively resenting him for what’s just happened to Jesse.

What the hell just happened? What is going on?

The fans greet Jimmy with a thunderous ovation as he appears on the stage beneath the giant Titantron screen. He’s the gold standard in the wrestling business and the fans love him. Walking down the ramp, to the ring, he basks in the adulation and waves to the crowd. He’s handed a microphone and half-heartedly encourages the fans to settle down.

At this point, I don’t know what to do. I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt.

Should I go find Jesse?

Several of the performers begin chattering around the tv monitor set up in the back. I pause to see what they’re talking about and notice what looks like a fight out in the crowd. Sometimes the fans get overly excited or maybe have a few too many beers and fights break out. It doesn’t happen often at our shows and things are usually over as soon as the WCW security team steps in. Our in-house crowds and events tend to be more family oriented. My father always says, “if we can appeal to the kids, then we get the parents too.”

I watch on the monitor as the crowd swells around a section of the temporary barriers we use to create our ringside area. A man unexpectedly lunges out from the mass of bodies, quickly hurdles the barrier and slides headfirst under the bottom rope into the ring. He pops up to his feet before Jimmy can react and the crowd immediately roars when they recognize it’s Jesse. He tackles Jimmy to the mat, grabs hold of his hair and begins dropping what appear to be real punches down onto the side of his face.

“Is this a work?” One of the female wrestlers asks a male counterpart. No one seems to know if this was planned or not.

The answer comes almost immediately when Jimmy’s face explodes in a shower of red from an elbow shot directly to the nose. An official sitting ringside stands up and crosses his arms into an X overhead, a standard industry signal calling for medics after a real injury.

“Shit. Get security out there now,” the backstage manager’s voice calls over the two-way radio.

My hand settles on my stomach. If I thought I was nauseous before, it was nothing compared to the unnatural rolling my insides are doing now.

A state of disbelief settles in over the crowd as they watch Jesse continue his assault. He picks Jimmy up and punches him directly in the face again. The Golden Boy falls straight back and lies motionless on the mat.

Oh shit. I think he’s out cold.

From where I’m standing I see parents covering their younger children’s faces as the violence unfolds. This isn’t what they paid to see, and I can just hear my father now. “Family is where the real money’s at for World Class Wrestling.”

Within seconds I’m surrounded by a sea of support staff and road crew members as we watch nearly the entire roster of performers rush out to stop Jesse. But by the time they arrive, Jesse has dragged Jimmy into the center of the ring and has already performed three five-star frog splashes on him from three of the four corner turnbuckles. He now stands on the top rope of the fourth, threatening another as the medics try to remove a semi-conscious Jimmy from the center of the ring.

Wyatt reaches the ring before any of the other performers and immediately slides in under the ropes. He angrily hurls insults back and forth with a few of the male wrestlers who’ve come out to stop what was happening, as Jesse taunts the stunned crowd. “There’s your Golden Boy,” he shouts, repeatedly.

It’s getting out of hand and nobody seems to know how to get things under control. No entrance music plays and the tv announcers are mostly silent.

As Jesse and Wyatt leave the ring, the camera catches a young boy at ringside, wearing a “Lil Golden Boy” t-shirt and headband, crying as he hugs his father.

Jesse and Wyatt walk up the ramp toward the backstage area pointing and laughing at the Titantron and the image of the boy in tears, hugging his father. The crowd immediately becomes infuriated. Their collective reaction is deafeningly loud and feels like it’s shaking the walls of the building. The ringside play by play announcers quickly close out the tv broadcast. One of them forgets his microphone’s still active as he gets up to leave. “Has he lost his fucking mind?”