Chapter 5
Paul looked to be in one of his pensive moods again one afternoon; Lana sat down beside him, keeping one eye on Danny, who was now sixteen months old.
“What’s the matter?” she asked gently.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, my ass,” she replied, putting her head on his shoulder. “I know that look from way back when I started working for you. This is your wife, remember? Spill.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth doing what I do,” Paul sighed.
Lana gave him a confused look. “What brought all of this on? You’ve worked and trained for years; you’ve always loved what you do. This has been your dream since you were eleven years old.”
“I know,” he nodded, “but it’s been total shit lately. For example, they've been doing that at house shows; Brian gets to wrestle and I'm stuck backstage playing with a shoe string.”
“Well, surely they can’t use everyone all the time, can they?”
“No, but this showing up just to sit on my ass is getting old. Why can’t they just start telling me beforehand before I waste my time and energy even going down there?”
“Now that I can agree with,” Lana nodded. “I’d be rather put off myself.”
“I don't go down there to count tiles, play beats with my fists on the locker doors and watch other guys shower and change,” Paul continued. “And then when I do get to wrestle, I give it one hundred and fifty percent, get concussions, tear muscles, pull something, and they don't even take notice.”
“Except when I chew a few new assholes,” Lana said. “I cannot believe they were going to let you leave the arena without being seen! Thank goodness Brian was there or God only knows what could have gone wrong.”
“Uh yeah, thanks for that, by the way. But you didn’t have to make that big of a scene out of it.”
“Trust me, if something involves my husband and the father of my son and nothing is being done about it, you can guarantee I’m going to raise hell, no matter how much of a fool I make of myself.”
“Still, I can help but wonder why am I out there risking my health and safety and life once a month when I could make more money doing something safer?”
“Again, because you love what you do and are living your dream,” Lana reminded him.
“Living the dream, yeah. They even gave Brian a raise! I'm happy for my buddy for that, but still.”
“Don’t worry; the way he goes through it, not to mention with a little help from Kim now, he’s not going to be much further ahead anyway.”
“Shit. I could be a lawyer that makes $80,000 a year and still be making more money than I make now,” he pouted.
“And you’d be boring as hell,” she replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Hardly the high-flying, risk-taking man I fell in love with.”
“I would? I thought I was already boring.”
“Ha! Not by a long shot, mister. A pain in the ass sometimes, but hardly boring. More like someone with some common sense.”
Their attention was diverted when Danny pulled himself up to a standing position on the sofa arm, grinning and hazel eyes shining.
“Hey Danster,” Paul said, finally smiling, then turned back to Lana. “When did he start doing this?”
“About two days before you came home,” she replied.
“Another thing that happens; I always miss the good stuff with Danny.”
“Don’t worry, it’s only a matter of time before he’s walking and the real fun starts keeping curious little fingers out of things.”
He then picked up Danny, who was now clinging to Paul’s pants leg. “Jesus, what are you feeding this kid? He’s like picking up a ton of bricks now.”
“Come on, you probably bench press more than three times what that child weighs and you’re complaining he’s heavy?” Lana asked with a chuckle. “He’s a growing boy.”
“Papi,” Danny said.
Both Paul and Lana were in shocked silence for a moment before he spoke again.
“Did he say what I thought he did?”
“Well, at least you didn’t miss his first word,” she smiled. “It certainly sounded like Papi to me. And to think I spend more time with him than anyone and what’s the first thing he says?”
Paul gave her a cheesy grin, putting Danny on his lap. “Papi, of course. That’s my boy.”
Lana nodded, pleased to see the change in his mood for the better; their son couldn’t have chose a better time—or a first word to say—than the present.
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