Why did it always happen to her? Shari, the good little girl that had been told she couldn’t ever get pregnant. Well apparently they hadn’t taken The Undertaker into account. She had always known that The Phenom was a force to be reckoned with. She had never quite imagined this. No one could ever have expected Shari to be the single mother.
Shari had dreamed of adopting a child. Preferably one who really needed her help. She envisioned a small girl or boy for her to raise and care for. Despite all her day dreams, they had never been that personal. She’d rarely thought of carrying a child or delivering one. Why would she? She had been told she was barren for as long as she could remember.
For a moment, the whole thing was just too overwhelming. Shari moved towards the toilet on the verge of getting sick. In the end, her body fought down the impulse and her stomach returned to normal. Raw fear gripped her in its icy clutches. This was her way. She was too good to let herself succumb to illness, at least not often. She was too good not to face her problems as head on as possible.
Shari knew for certain she had to tell Mark. He had a right to know, even if he didn’t really want to. More than likely, he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby. Hell, he probably didn’t want anything to do with her. It had been six weeks after all. He had moved on to the newest conquest weeks ago. She’d be lucky if he remembered her.
The first issue Shari had to deal with was finding Undertaker to tell him. The man lived mostly out of a suitcase. He traveled all over the globe for World Wrestling Entertainment, which didn’t leave her much of a window of opportunity. What was she supposed to do, line up outside the locker room with some other ring rats and hope he acknowledged her?
“You’re going to be late for work.” April’s sleepy voice wafted in from the kitchen where she was pouring morning cappuccino. April made it a habit to force herself out of bed at an early hour each morning and get to work at her computer.
“Thanks.” Shari answered.
As upset as she was, Shari still knew she couldn’t talk to April before she tried to reach Mark. It wouldn’t be right, no matter how badly she wanted to offload some of her fear. Shari pitched the small stick that was all too blue into the trash. She tied up the small bag and carried it with her towards the kitchen. It wouldn’t do for April to catch sight of the evidence. She shoved the smaller bag into the kitchen trash, tied that back up, and carried it out the door towards the dumpster. She’d have to hurry. It wouldn’t due to be late.
Even in her most worn jeans and peasant blouse, Shari felt out of place. There hadn’t been a choice though. The best way Shari knew to catch up with Undertaker was to go back to his haunt, aptly named Rusty Nail. Shari hadn’t noticed the name before and if she hadn’t been so nervous she would have laughed. The place needed a good cleaning, even if the smells from the grill were mouthwatering.
For two weeks, Shari had bide her time. She had checked the WWE schedule carefully. She knew quite well that The Dead Man was home in Houston. Now all she had to do was wait for him. She hoped he was hungry for his favorite burger or steak. It was as good of a plan as any. He wasn’t an easy man to find, at least not when you were looking.
Her appetite took a wild swing towards hunger. It had been like that for several weeks now, sometimes going a day without being able to eat then suddenly eating everything in sight. Shari slipped into a booth and motioned for a waitress. She ordered a grilled chicken with honey mustard and some fries. If she was going to wait, she wasn’t going to go hungry.
She pulled a novel from her purse and ignored the goings on. There was the normal argument at the pool table. A total bozo was hitting on another bikers too pretty girl friend. All in all, it was quite a normal evening. Maybe Mark was just not going to show. She thought at least a dozen times about getting up to leave. She wondered if she could leave a message. Neither option really felt suitable.
It was just past ten when The Undertakers sexy body filled the bar’s entrance. He pulled off his leather jacket and walked in as if he owned the place. He could pull that off anywhere. With his sheer size and the way he carried himself, Mark wasn’t one to be questioned. He was The Big Dog and his yard was anywhere he said it was. He was the supreme alpha male.
Shari wondered if he would even notice her. She was shocked when he caught her gaze and headed in her direction. His laser green gaze had Shari catching her breath. Would their child have his eyes, or her more cloudy hazel ones? Would the child grow to Mark’s massive size or have her own petite stature? It seemed that fair skin and freckles were the only shared attribute. Poor baby.
“You’re in my booth.” Taker greeted. So much for being recognized, Shari thought hysterically. For a moment she thought she would scream or cry. A nice outburst would have felt good right then. Somehow she kept her cool and nodded her own greeting.
“So I am.” Shari agreed.
“It’s been two months. You back in your apartment yet?” Taker asked. Shari was shocked by the question as much as by the fact that he recognized her.
“No, not quite yet. Another two weeks. They had to put on a new roof, rewire most of the building, and do a lot of internal work.” she answered, stunned that her voice seemed so normal.
“I’m guessing you didn’t’ come here just to eat.” he teased.
“No. I guess I didn’t. I wanted you to know …” Somehow the words wouldn’t come. No matter how many times she had rehearsed this conversation, it didn’t get any easier.
“Wanted me to know what?” he asked, his famous scowl now in full evidence.
Shari went silent while the waitress came over to take Mark’s order. She listened to the ritual flirtation with only half an ear. Damn, did Mark look fine. The denim vest fit him like a second skin. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on underneath and his chest and arms were shown off to best advantage. Somehow, Shari knew he hadn’t done that on purpose. Someone like Taker just took it for granted.
“I’m pregnant.” Shari admitted. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Congratulations.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Lady, I’m not going to throw you a parade.”
Taker couldn’t help the bitterness in his words. He had been pursued by some of the best. Somehow this little vixen had gotten under his radar and under his skin. What in the hell was she trying to pull? He had great lawyers and they had handled over a dozed paternity suits for him over the last few years. None of the infants had been proven his.
“Great. That settles that.” Shari managed the words through her raw throat. Leaving her plate where it lay, she rose to her feet and nearly ran from the bar. No way was she letting Mark of any of those other people see her cry. She’d done what she had to. Mark now knew about the baby and could do whatever he wanted about the news. She didn’t need him or his damned ego. She managed to start the VW and pulled into traffic. She’d allow herself a cry later.
Hussy ~ July 2006 ~ Everything here is purely fiction. Any actual persons mentioned are not known or affiliated with this site or its Web Mistress. Any stories involving real persons are purely just that, stories and a product of the author's own fantasies. No events are claimed to be true nor are they meant to be taken as a reflection of that person's actual life, personality, etc.
