Page 74 of Glorious Ruin
“There’s also a new policy we’ve just rolled out. As of today, talent are not allowed to wear wedding rings or visible bands when on television. It takes away from kayfabe and distracts from the storylines.” Now that he was finished, he crossed his arms.
I scoffed audibly as that had to be the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. Married wrestlers had worn silicone bands in the ring for years.
“You can’t be serious?” Silas countered, taking a step toward the table. “You expect me to believe there’s a new dress code specifically for married couples? I find it hilarious that you want to police what grown-ass adults wear as a signal to their real lives just because you’re mad about a storyline.”
Presley’s face flushed a deep crimson as he fired back. “You’ve caused enough trouble already, Silas! The Reed family has done nothing but be entitled and a drag on this company for decades. I suggest, if you value your career in this industry, you do exactly as you’re told. No rings. No main locker room. You are employees in this building and nothing more.”
Presley dismissed us with a wave of his hand, shooing us out like vermin he needed to exterminate. We left the room as instructed with the door clicking shut behind us, but I was raging inside my head.
As we walked down the hallway in silence, the way-too familiar weight of defeat settled once again on our shoulders. Silas looked gutted.
I knew I needed to protect him. Save him from his head and the crater this company and Presley was forming, so thankfully, I thought ahead. Currently burning a hole in my pocket was my phone, which I had set to record before entering the building. I now had the entire conversation, the uncomfortable comments, theverytargeted policy, as well as his vague threats, saved to my voice memos. If I knew anything, it was that this wasn’t going to be the last time Presley hit us with something. And to protect us, I’ll collect everything and do what needs to be done.
Our lives weren’t going to know what calm was again for a long while. This war within the wrestling world was just starting, and I was prepping the best way I could to make sure our asses were covered.
18
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
Now playing: Let the Band Play - Badflower
Afterthechaosofthe Minneapolis taping, our lives had descended into a bizarre, suffocating lull. Presley made good on his threat. I was officially off-screen, completely ghosted by the creative department, while Silas was thrust into a grueling, high-profile program with Rico Martinez.
We were still traveling together, sharing hotels and rental cars, but the second we stepped foot into an arena, the invisible walls went up. Presley banned our rings, banned us from the main locker room, and if he could, would have banned us looking at each other. We were being punished in the most insidious, corporate way possible: by being forced to exist in the shadows of the empire we helped build.
We had finally circled into New York, and the city that never sleeps was the perfect backdrop for the restless, caged-animal energy that had been brewing inside me for the last seven days. Silas and I had a massive suite in a high-end hotel in Midtown where the sounds of traffic offered a steadying white noise.
Silas was in the shower getting ready. He wanted to train early this morning. As I sat on the edge of the unmade bed, staring at my phone with a cup of lukewarm hotel coffee in my hand, the water turned off. I had plans of my own today, plans that required me to be entirely unsupervised, which meant I needed to get out of training with Si.
I opened my messages and pulled up Evan’s contact.
Can you train with Si today? I need a few hours.
Are you kidding me? Don’t you know what it’s like training with that Golden Retriever? The man does not know what oxygen depletion is. My lungs were bleeding last week.
Suck it up, Wilder. Just run the ropes with him. Keep him occupied until 2 PM.
I demand hazard pay. And you owe me dinner at that steakhouse in Tribeca.
Deal. Don’t let him leave the ring.
I tossed my phone onto the nightstand just as the bathroom door opened. Silas stepped out with a towel slung low around his waist, his damp hair curling at the ends. The steam rolled out behind him like a backdrop, carrying the scent of the cedar hotel soap.
“You almost ready?” He walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a pair of gym shorts. “I want to get in the ring before the production crew starts testing the pyro. We can run that sequence you wanted me to tweak.”
I took a slow sip of my coffee, keeping my expression neutral. “Actually, I’m not going to be able to head over with you right now, baby.”
“What? Why? Did Presley call you?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” I lied smoothly, setting my mug down. “Tate set up a last-minute interview for me. Some wrestling podcast the PR department insists I do to maintain engagement while I’m off TV. I won’t be done for a couple of hours.”
Silas frowned, no doubt unhappy about the separation. Since the broadcast, he’d been exceptionally attached. He didn’t like being in the arenas without me, even if we were confined to a broom closet.
“I can wait for you,” he offered, “We can go together after.”
“No, go train,” I gently insisted as I walked over to him. Wrapping my arms around his bare waist, I pulled him into a hug. “Evan’s already heading over to run the ropes with you. He’sthrilledabout it, by the way.”
Silas let out a soft snort, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders. “He’s going to complain the entire time.”
