John Michaels
When TPA's card for the week went live on Monday, Paul and Stacey decided it was time they saw one for themselves.
"Dorothy, huh... It's been a long time since Dorothy."
"She was a bit of a shame, too. Her skills were solid, but her pride ran way too high."
The leap in the women's division at WWO owed plenty to the blood and sweat the wrestlers themselves poured into it, but the biggest factor had been Stacey planting her flag as the head of the women's side and aggressively poaching elite talent from promotions across the US, Mexico, Japan, and beyond.
Dorothy had been one of the wrestlers who came through briefly when Stacey first raised that banner.
"We don't know Olivia all that well, but we know Dorothy's skills for certain. She'll make a solid point of comparison."
"I'll sneak in and watch on Thursday."
When Stacey volunteered, Paul stepped up right after her.
"I'll come with you."
"What?"
"Why so surprised?"
"Haa. Honey! You sneaking in? Does that even make sense?"
"Why not? Hat and sunglasses and I'm good."
Stacey burst out laughing at that.
"And that frame of yours? What are you going to do about the size?"
"Hmm."
"I'll take someone else."
"Who? How many people can look at this as objectively as I can?"
Stacey mulled it over at his words, then snapped her fingers.
Snap.
"John. What if I take John?"
"You're taking John?"
"Yeah. NEXT and TPA have that collab coming up soon anyway, so it makes sense for the head of creative to see it. And you already trust John's eye."
John. John Michaels.
He had been Triple J's soul partner back in the day, and he still was.
"I can trust John's word if no one else's. And he's right next door, so going together works out clean."
"Tch. 'If no one else's'? What's that supposed to mean?"
Stacey shot Paul a sidelong look.
"The person I trust most in the world is you, Stacey. Family's no exception either. Though... your dad's a bit of a different story."
"I'm kidding. Don't take it so seriously. I'll call John."
"Fine. I'll watch alone and lonely on TV."
"Tch. Don't play the pity card... If it bothers you that much, go to Florida and watch with the kids. Or I can call Casey?"
Twenty years into a marriage the world had fretted over, they were still a couple with genuine chemistry.
"No. I'll gather the key staff in the conference room and watch it there. It's worth that."
"That's my husband."
Stacey had flown back to Florida the day before and told her daughters she would be slipping into the Thursday show under the radar.
"Mom! Take me too."
"Me too."
"Come with us, Mom."
All three daughters begged to tag along. They were grown, and the clinginess was still cute, but this was not the moment for it.
"Haa. This is work. Work! If you want to see it, go together yourselves. But if you spot me or John in there, you do not acknowledge us. Not even a little."
"Who doesn't know that? We just want to watch with you."
"Exactly."
"You're all grown and still like this? Don't you have boyfriends to take?"
The girls went dead serious at that.
"If we brought a boyfriend, Dad would Pedigree him."
"No. He'd hit him with a sledgehammer."
"Before that, just spitting water out of his mouth might make the guy run."
Their bleak answers left Stacey speechless.
"Your father is a perfect gentleman."
"Only in your eyes, Mom."
"Anyway, you heard me. Even if you see me, do not act like you know me. This is important."
"Tch. We're not going. Not going."
"We'll just watch from home."
Stacey soothed their whining and, the next evening at six-thirty, met John in front of the TPA venue.
He showed up in a hooded zip-up, hat, and sunglasses. He had even shaved clean.
Stacey's own look was much the same.
"John. You made it? Hmm. Dressed like that you look ten years younger. You should shave more often."
"Paul doesn't."
"A little stubble looks good on him."
John flashed the smile that had once sent countless female fans into a frenzy, then spoke in that trademark gravelly voice.
"Heh. Looking younger now doesn't change a damn thing. I don't need a younger face—I need a younger back. This goddamn back!"
He pressed one hand to his lower back as he said it, his already lined face crumpling harder, the furrow between his brows digging deeper.
The back pain that had hastened his retirement only grew worse with time. No amount of treatment or core work could outrun age.
Her own husband had a bad right knee, of course. The direct reason for his retirement had not been the knee but a genetic heart condition, but still...
"I've said it before—why not take a break from work and focus on treatment?"
"Hah. That's just you telling me to go die."
"Ugh. At least don't skip your regular checkups."
"Don't worry. I won't leave the ring until I'm eighty."
"Right."
It was not the first or second time they had had this talk, so Stacey let it drop.
"John. What do we do if these rookies live up to the hype?"
"First we check the mic work. You can't tell everything from the matches alone. Weirdly, TPA hasn't been putting them on the mic. Charina's debut, so that tracks, but the Inquisitors and Selma were on their second match—plenty of reason to give them a promo. Did TPA change policy?"
Hearing it from John, it did feel off. Still, they were only one or two matches deep after debut; better to watch a little longer. Maybe the focus had simply been on the technical side and mic practice had been pushed back for now.
"So if the promos are solid, you'd use them?"
John nodded.
"Obviously! That's what the TPA collab is for. We'd be in a scenario meeting with TPA as early as tomorrow."
He glanced at the crowd gathering in front of TPA and let a beat of silence hang.
"You know this as well as I do, Stacey. Law and Smash Down have gone stagnant. NEXT is starting to stagnate too. We need a new shock the fans never saw coming."
Stagnation did not just mean the same faces cycling through matches. It meant the fans could already predict the direction of the stories—when the whole point was to write something they never saw coming.
Dropping a completely random plot out of nowhere was no solution either. That might have worked twenty years ago; now the fans would just curse and change the channel. One of the reasons EAW was circling the drain right now was exactly that.
A story no one saw coming, yet still carrying proper logic and material. A rising star with the in-ring ability to seize every eye in the building.
WWO did not have that right now.
"You're right. If their pre-debut skill is the real thing, the women's side will see a massive shake-up. We could even invite them to NEXT's Halloween Battle in October. Or sign them outright."
Stacey almost mentioned the plan to absorb TPA, then held her tongue. For now only her husband, herself, and the head of legal knew. John's mouth was not loose, but it was not the stage to tell him yet.
"Stacey. If we bring Charina in, the men's side gets the same treatment."
"What?"
"With a face like that, even if she had zero skill you could spin endless stories around her."
"John. Spell it out."
At her prompting, John laid it out carefully.
"A champion gets seduced by the beauty and throws the belt away. A face goes blind with possessiveness or jealousy and turns heel. A guy famous for being a devoted husband suddenly files for divorce and causes chaos. That face is a mask that makes any of it feel plausible. And... hmm. A story where Paul gets hooked could work too. COO falls hard—that would be fun as hell. The CEO would be furious, though. How about it?"
Stacey just laughed.
"Pfft—hahaha. Sounds entertaining. But isn't Paul a little too old for that? Nearly forty years between them?"
"Come on. People marry with fifty-year gaps in real life. Perfectly workable scenario. Why the long face?"
"Of course not. It's business."
Stacey had done ring weddings and kissed other men more times than she could count in storylines. One of those weddings had even been the night before the real ceremony—Paul kidnapping her so they could hold the match first and then appear. Of course Paul had crashed that wedding, turned it into a wreck, and the whole thing had spun into their on-screen entanglement.
A woman who had lived through every kind of soap-opera booking was not going to get offended by something like this.
"Hmm. What if we rope you in too, John? A love triangle with Paul for old times' sake?"
John threw his head back and laughed loud enough that a few people nearby glanced over.
"Puhahaha! Funniest thing I've heard all year. But what do I do? My kicks aren't accurate anymore. I might shoot right into Paul's nose and flatten it. You okay with that?"
"That's... yeah, better not. Plenty of young talent with bright futures. No need to drag Paul and John into it."
They had already talked the new rookies to death over the phone. No further briefing was required.
"Looks like everything but the VIP seats is general admission. Want to head in early?"
"Hmm. Why not?"
"Let's grab something once we're inside. It'll taste terrible, but still."
"Heh. Taste doesn't matter. When else am I going to eat a hot dog the CEO buys me?"
"Hmm. Then tomorrow night I'll treat you to something truly spectacular. That way Paul's nose stays intact, right?"
"Dinner's out. I've got plans. Lunch, though..."
"Deal. Come on. Let's go in."
They took the tickets from the assistant and carefully threaded their way through the packed fans, heads down so no one would clock their faces.