Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (35 page)

“Actually, things are looking up. Your three weeks
here have really helped, especially this last week with the Tatianna angle.”

Her heart ached and she glanced at the floor. It was
definitely time to go.

“Francine?” Uncle Joe whispered.

“I’m fine. What about the Tatianna angle?”

“We have advance orders for Black Jack and Tatianna
action figures.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Her heart caught at the sound of Jack’s voice. She
hadn’t seen him in days, but her body instantly reacted to that sultry timbre.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm. He didn’t love her, didn’t
care about her. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did. Her body ached to feel his hands roam across
her skin, pleasure her until she couldn’t think straight.

“Discussing merchandising strategy, Jack. Nothing that
concerns you,” Uncle Joe said.

“I heard there was trouble up here. Everyone okay?”

“I took care of it,” Max boasted.

“I’ll bet you did.” He slid his arm around Max’s
shoulder.

Only then did Frankie look at him. A spear of pain
sliced open her heart. He narrowed his eyes as if trying to read her thoughts.

She broke the connection and studied Joe’s ledger.

“Of course, Little Miss Pirate with her machete was a
big help,” Max said.

“Frankie?” Jack said. “I would have paid money to see
that.”

“Watch it or I’ll do a reenactment,” she shot back.

They all laughed. Except Frankie.

“Well, I’ve got good news,” Jack said to Uncle Joe.
“It seems Sumptuous Sally wants back in. Her job as a topless dancer didn’t
work out.”

“Probably knocked out her customers with those
double-D bosoms,” Max muttered.

“I told her she’d be perfect to play Tatianna.”

Frankie hadn’t thought she could hurt any more. She
was wrong.

“I figure Frank is out of the game since she’s going
to be walking down the aisle soon. How about it?
 
Want me to get Sally back for Friday’s show in Chicago?”

Uncle Joe glanced at Frankie. “If Frankie thinks it’s
a good idea.”

She felt as if someone had stuck his hand in her chest
and was ripping out her heart.

This was the way it was supposed to be with Frankie
leaving the business to marry Bradley, waking up at 6:37 every morning,
flossing exactly seven times per tooth.

No, she knew that no matter what came of all this she
wasn’t marrying Bradley. Not next month, next year, or in the next lifetime.

Swallowing the lump in her throat she grinned at Jack.
“Fabulous. The sooner the better.”

He didn’t care about her. He was happy to send her
packing, ready to bring a new woman into the ring and into his bed. She fisted
her hand behind her back.

“It’s settled then,” Uncle Joe said. “And your
contract, Jack?”

“Go ahead and extend it for another two years with an
option for a third.”

Frankie’s heart skipped. “What?”

Jack ignored her.

“Two, maybe three years?” Sully repeated, disbelief in
his voice.

“Are you going to argue with me or sign me?”

“Sign you, sign you.” Uncle Joe searched his desk and
dug out a blank contract. He scribbled down the information and shoved it at
Jack.

“But I still expect my bonus at the end of my current
contract.”

“Of course.” Uncle Joe practically salivated as Jack
signed his name.

“And set me up in some easy matches for a while. The
knee’s still not a hundred percent.”

“Easy matches.” Uncle Joe leafed through a pile of
papers. “Right, how about the Basher at The Spring Squash?”

Jack looked at Maxine. “Why do I bother?”

“Beats me.”

Frankie studied his face, but he wouldn’t look at her.
What was happening? His body would never last another six months, much less two
years. What about his dream of painting and travel, his plans to live in the
mountains?

“Jack?” she said, at least she thought she spoke his
name. But he didn’t so much as glance her way, and everyone kept talking, as if
they were in a movie and Frankie had a nonspeaking role.

“All right then.” He tapped on Uncle Joe’s desk with
his knuckles and glanced at Frankie.

Her breath caught. In slow motion he closed the
distance between them, the heat from his body warming her skin. He leaned
close, his lips nearly grazing her ear. She automatically reached out and dug
her fingers into his biceps like he was a lifesaver and she was going down.

“Go live your perfect life, sweetheart. Don’t worry,
I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

And then he kissed her. A gentle kiss that felt
suspiciously like goodbye.

By the time she got her wits back and opened her eyes
he was gone.

“Why did he do that?” she whispered, pressing her
fingers to her lips.

“Why does a man usually kiss a woman?” Max said.

“No, not that. I meant, the contract. He needs to get
out of this business. He won’t survive another two years.”

“For a girl with two fancy degrees, you don’t have
much sense.”

“Maxine, don’t talk that way to my...to Francine,”
Uncle Joe said.

“Max?” She studied the older woman’s face, needing
answers, feeling completely blindsided.

“He did it for you, Lady Jane. Did anyone bother
telling him that Pugsy and the snakes weren’t bag men for the mob?”

Frankie looked at Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe looked at Max.

“Didn’t think so,” Max said. “Jack’s putting his life
on hold to protect your uncle so you can get your pretty little butt out of
here and live your perfect life. That is what’s waiting out there for you,
isn’t it? A perfect life with that pencil-pushing fiancé of yours?”

Two days of introspection and a few tins of
peppermints later, Frankie knew what she had to do. Dressed in faded blue jeans
and the Hammerlock Championship T-shirt Maxine had given her, Frankie paced
outside the south entrance to Lancaster Stadium. Bradley would show at any
minute, clients in tow. Fanning herself with the ringside tickets, she took
consolation in the fact that at least she was helping Bradley sink a lucrative
deal before walking out of his life.

“He’ll be okay,” she whispered. After all, the
relationships mired in love were the hardest to survive. She wouldn’t exactly
use the word “love” to describe her partnership with Bradley. It had dawned on
her that partnering with Bradley was the business relationship, and loving Jack
was anything but business.

What would Jack do tonight when she climbed into the
ring? Would he reject her? She pushed the thought aside. If Frankie had learned
anything it was that what’s real is what’s in your heart. Her heart not only
cried out for Jack, every minute of every day, but it also insisted he loved
her as well.

She belonged with him, whether that meant living in a
mountain cabin or traveling the world to discover new sights to paint. One
thing for sure, she wasn’t going to let him continue to abuse himself in the
ring, regardless of his contract with Uncle Joe.

What a mess they’d all tumbled into, but it was almost
over. Time to cut the anchor and sail on life’s possibilities for once. She
could do it.

For Jack; for their love.

The thought of her mother doing the right thing and
being with a man who did not make her happy was a wake-up call for Frankie. Who
would have thought that in the end professional wrestling would open Frankie’s
eyes to what was real and what wasn’t? The irony made her smile.

A black stretch limo pulled up to the curb and a
handful of men stepped out. It was an hour before show time but Bradley liked
being punctual, if not painstakingly early. Good old Bradley. She’d miss him in
some ways, and not in others.

“Francine!” he called out, escorting his business
associates up the stairs. “These are the executives from Doodles: Bob, Kent,
Phil, and Scott. Tom couldn’t come. His wife didn’t approve. Said the show was
too racy. I told him he couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I hope she’s not too wrong,” Kent muttered. The men
chuckled.
 

“It’s racy enough, don’t worry,” she said. “Here are
the tickets. Bradley, I need a word with you.”

“But Francine—”

“He’ll be with you in a few minutes,” she said to the
executives. They ambled toward the gate.

“What’s this about?” Bradley said, watching his
clients go on without him.

“They’ll be fine. I want you to listen carefully to
what I’m about to say.”

“Can’t it wait? I hate letting them fend for
themselves. This is very important.” He stopped and eyed the door.

“So is our future.”

“These men are part of our future.” He gripped her
hands. “Now be a good girl and let me do my job so we can invest more money. I
have a feeling this is the year for diapers.” He winked and pulled her toward
the gate. “You’ll be sitting with us, right, Sweetums?”

“Actually, no. And Bradley?” She stopped and tugged on
his arm until he turned to face her. “You’d better take this.” She placed the
velvet box in his hand. “I have to go change for the show.”

He stared at the box and glanced into her eyes.
“Francine?”

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work. You, me,
diaper stock.”

He pursed his lips. “Your timing is awful.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“It’s a good thing there’s a six-month exchange policy
at Smith and Wesson jewelers?”

She burst out laughing. This wasn’t about love or
passion. It was about Bradley getting a deal on the bargain of a lifetime:
professional, talented, and potentially perfect wife, Frankie McGee.

The old Frankie McGee.

“I honestly don’t see what’s so funny.” He turned up
his nose.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“It’s that man, isn’t it? That wrestler?”

“Actually, it’s about knowing the difference between
what’s real and what’s scripted. I’ve been reading from a script my whole life.
It’s time to get real.”

He scrunched his nose in confusion.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine. You’ll impress
your clients with front row seats, and they’ll sign on with the newest partner
at Lundstrom, Marks and Beetle. Everything will work out as planned, and I’m
confident you’ll find yourself a more suitable mate. You’re a great catch,
Bradley Dunsmore.”

She stood on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek.

“I feel like I should say something,” he whispered,
“or feel sad.”

“It’s okay. We didn’t have that kind of relationship.
I hope you do someday. I really do.”

“Like you have with your wrestler?”

She smiled. “Go on, go find your clients. It’s going
to be quite a show tonight.”

He took a few steps away, hesitated and turned around.
“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Remember to check on the Daisy Diaper stock from time
to time.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“And have your wrestler rub cod liver oil on the balls
of your feet to keep them soft, like I showed you.” With one last smile of
perfect white teeth, Bradley disappeared into the arena.

Cod liver oil. She shivered. Now
that
she wouldn’t miss.

“Time to get ready,” she whispered, heading for the
talent entrance.

But she’d never be totally ready for this show,
especially since it was anything but a performance.

***

At least he wasn’t fighting tonight, Jack thought,
squirting his hair with styling gel to keep it under control. Damn, he didn’t
seem to be able to keep anything under control these days: his hair, his body,
or his heart.

“Hell,” he muttered into the mirror tacked onto the cement
wall of the dressing room. Thinking about it wasn’t going to make it hurt any
less. He was doing the honorable thing for once and he should be good with
that.

If only the unbearable ache in his chest would go
away.

He suspected it would lessen once Frankie was
completely out of his life.

Like that would ever truly happen? As long as he
stayed in this business and worked for Sully, as long as Jack breathed, he
wouldn’t be rid of her—the memories of her tight little fist, her sweet
kisses and tender touch that drove him insane.

At least by signing the contract he’d made sure she
could go on with her life without having to worry about her uncle. The love she
felt for Sully was remarkable. If only he could have earned that kind of love
from her. A pang throbbed in his chest.

Somebody shoot
me and put me out of my misery
.

“Almost ready?” Billings asked from the door.

“Sure. What’s the angle?” He grabbed his Stetson.

“Tatianna is going to fight for your honor tonight.
You escort her to the ring and take a seat behind the announcer’s table. We
figure fans will love to hear you work the mic.”

“Sally’s okay with this?” They walked toward the
Monkey Tunnel.

“She’s all set. She’s on the card to fight Luscious
Leeza.”

Jack pictured the petite, large-breasted Sally facing
off against the muscled Leeza. “That should be interesting.”

“I think you’ll find tonight’s show very interesting.
A lot of twists and turns,” he said, scribbling on his clipboard.

“I don’t like surprises.” Jack slowed his pace.

“Hey, all you have to do is talk. Should be easy for a
motor mouth like you.”

Jack chuckled at the irony. His persona was the
epitome of the strong, silent type, but tonight he was expected to add color to
the announcer’s commentary.

“Who’s behind the mic?”

“Prince Priceless.”

“This gets better and better,” he said, sarcastic.

“Just wait,” Billings muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” His eyes gleamed.

The hair bristled on the back of Jack’s neck.

“Bill?”

“There’s Sally.” He motioned ahead.