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What did Ron think he was doing, grabbing for his hand like that? That could have given the game away, and right
now when it was least convenient. He, John Bradshaw Layfield, was finally getting some mainstream exposure and this
could ruin it. What if the Fox executives were watching? This definitely didn't tow the line.
"Are you
crazy? Do you know what you being all grab-handed could have cost me?"
"Nothing. No one would have noticed anything."
"Yeah
right, these people notice everything."
"Has anyone ever told you you're paranoid?"
"And I have a right to be.
I'm getting national exposure soon."
"You get national exposure now."
"Oh yeah, being a roughhousing drunken
redneck does my profile the world of good."
"To use the language you seem to prefer, the demographic we cater to would
be really unhappy to know that you're a East Coast yuppie now."
"Well we can't all stay the same."
"No, things
can't."
And suddenly the conversation seemed to spin away from John, moving into an area he wasn't comfortable with.
"I
had to do this. That wasn't me any more."
"No, the man I fell for wouldn't have begged and pleaded with Heyman
for anything. We would have smashed the whole place up, and damn what happened next."
"That's not how things
work. We would have both been fired, and I couldn't have stood that. Not now... I've got so many possibilities."
"You
know what they say in Vegas, just 'cause it might happen doesn't mean it will."
"But this might. For once in
our lives a plan might actually work."
"It might. Too bad I won't be around to find out." Ron knocked John's
hand out of the way, and walked past him to the bed, picked up his kit bag and slung it over his shoulder, got his hat in
his hand, putting it on as he walked past John. "'You ever remember who you are, you give me a ring."
With that
he walked out of the door.
Bradshaw thought about chasing after him. Thought hard about it, knowing that whether
he did it in the next few seconds would make all the difference. But there was so much to think about, him and Ron,
his career in wrestling and his career outside of wrestling. Now, the future, the past. And three seconds to decide.
He
stood there pole-axed. There was Ron and everything that had been, and there was what could be.
The moment passed.
The
decision had been made for him. He hadn't moved. Now he had to remember that he was John Bradshaw Layfield damn
it, and he didn't bow to someone else's wishes, he didn't shirk the hard decisions that had to be made. Ron could go
fuck himself. T here was a new sheriff in town, and he'd had to clear his life of clutter. He could believe it and he
could therefore make other people believe it. Believe in something hard enough and it becomes the truth.
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