I push open the back door and slip out of the SUV.
I head toward the door. Freddie is standing there with his eyes are trained on me as I near him.
Immediately, his gaze checks behind me. “I see X took the suspension seriously since he’s not with you.”
I step up next to him, and his nearly seven-foot frame towers over me. “He did. He’s still back in Detroit.”
Freddie raises his dark eyebrows and writes something down on his clipboard. “I have to say, I’m a bit surprised that X didn’t attempt to bend the rules, like he typically does, and show up with you here anyway. I expected that actually.”
I shrug. “He knows this is only temporary. Hopefully he trusts me. There’s no need for him to violate the terms of his suspension.”
“X might trust you, but I know he sure as hell doesn’t trust Rex. I don’t care what line of bullshit the public relations department fed the press about the fight between them onstage being a part of the show. I’ve gotten between the two of them too many times for me to believe it wasn’t real. Rex has been taunting X for far too long. It was all bound to come to a head at some point.”
My lips pull into a tight line. “You’re right, but if the story keeps X out of jail, I’ll go along with it any day.”
Freddie gives me a pointed look. “Is that why you agreed to the whole love-triangle thing with Rex?”
I tilt my head to the side. “How do you know about that?”
“Everyone does. This is Tension, Anna. Everyone knows everyone’s business here.” He sighs. “It doesn’t help that Rex has been bragging about having you on his arm to everyone either.”
“Great,” I mutter. “I suppose he’s already in there?”
Freddie nods. “He is. If he gives you shit, come find me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Not a problem,” he replies coolly. “X is a good guy, and I know he only did what he did because he had been pushed, so I’d like to help him out as much as I can.”
“You’re a good guy, Freddie.” I pat the smooth brown skin on his forearm.
He smiles. “I try. Now, let’s get you back there before you’re late.”
He presses a button on the walkie-talkie hanging over his shoulder. “Security needed at the back entrance. I’m escorting talent into the building.”
The radio squawks to life. “Copy that.”
Freddie nods toward the door and then heads inside with me on his heels.
Backstage is the same as every other time I’ve been back here. Men and women of all shapes and sizes, wearing T-shirts with the word Tension on them, are buzzing around, pushing equipment in every direction.
Freddie stops at a set of open blue doors. “Catering is in here. I’ll radio the writers and tell them where you are. I’m sure they’ll send someone for you shortly.”
“Thanks, again, Freddie.”
“No problem, Anna Sweets. Take care of yourself.”
When he leaves me standing there, I wrap my arms around myself and head into what Xavier loves to refer to as the Snake Pit. As always, several women dressed to kill are gathered around one of the tables, no doubt plotting on how to get their hooks into a professional wrestler.
Not one friendly face is to be seen in the place, so I make my way over to an empty tables and sit down. I drag my phone out and dial Xavier’s number, but the line simply rings a few times before going straight to voice mail.
I wonder where he could be?
When the tone sounds, I leave a quick message. “Hey, it’s me. I’m at the show and really missing you. I’ll try to call you again later. Love you.”
My heart sinks a little. It would have been nice to hear his voice and find a little encouragement or last-minute pointers from a guy who’s been through this hundreds of times.
I sigh and then quickly dial Quinn’s number, desperately needing the sound of a friendly voice to help me not feel so alone right now.
Quinn answers on the second ring. “Hey, chica! Nice to see you’re taking my threat of calling me every day a little more seriously now.”
I smile but roll my eyes. “When have I missed a day of talking to you?”
She clears her throat. “I can think of a few when you were with Mr. Sexy all the time. Speaking of, how did it go with him dropping you off at the airport?”
I nibble on the corner of my bottom lip as I fight back some tears. “It was rough. I hate fighting with him all the time. It’s been extra hard, being here and knowing that there’s this weird tension between us.”
“When you get home, I’m sure he’ll finally come to his senses and figure out how to be more open with you.”
“I hope so,” I mumble.