Post by Evan De Parker on Jun 10, 2012 23:56:41 GMT -4
Author's Note: This is a little trilogy I've become invested in following a few days Evan is spending in Georgia leading up to the June 11th edition of Monday Night Meltdown. I'm not sure what inspired me to do it, but I hope you enjoy, and you can read Part One here. 
June 9th. Two days away from Monday Night Meltdown in Duluth. It seemed to be approaching so quickly.
Luckily, Saturday morning and the events succeeding it went much smoother than the day before, according to Evan Envi.
As his friend since childhood, Andre Savi had warned him, Evan was blowing things out of proportion. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Evan was having an internal meltdown, thinking of the various subjects that could come up in conversation between his sister Sienna, Andre’s wife and a longtime friend to Evan in her own right, Becca… and Michelle. The new flame. Unexpectedly the three women had an outing and Evan expected the worst, but as far as he could tell, nothing detrimental toward his relationship happened.
Nothing that Evan knew about anyway.
He didn’t know the specifics of their evening, but when Michelle returned to the guest house around 10:30 on Friday evening, she was sporting a slightly shorter haircut and a new style entirely. She was wearing clothes that Evan was sure were much beyond her price range, and had seemingly purchased an entire new wardrobe. She’d been delighted.
Delighted and slightly drunk, which was fine since Evan, Andre, and a highly amusing neighbor of his had hastily devoured a twelve-pack late in the evening. They’d acted like a bunch of kids that had just graduated and were eager to celebrate in the most adult way possible.
The two had found their way to the master bedroom rather quickly after her arrival, where they remained for upwards of an hour before returning to the living room and watching movies until the wee hours of the morning. For hours, they talked. They talked about everything. The conversation ranged from Evan’s love of Paul McCartney, to Becca’s love of Tyler the Creator-- from Becca’s three cats, to the horses that Evan, Sienna, and their brothers owned-- from Becca’s journey to womanhood during sleep away camp, to Evan’s self-discovery after falling out of the public eye years ago.
He wasn’t sure where or when it stopped… The warmth of the sunlight at about 8:55 A.M. is what finally jolted him awake.
Evan Envi calmly makes his way to the kitchen of Andre Savi’s guest house. He approaches cautiously as he’s overcome with a feeling of deja-vu. Like the morning before, he can smell breakfast cooking. He finds himself at a loss for an explanation because he couldn’t even remember falling asleep last night. He had no recollection of Michelle leaving, but he would be shocked-- shocked if she was standing in the kitchen, preparing a meal right now. But… He just didn’t remember the last few moments of his night.
That was modest. Evan didn’t remember at all much after rolling off of Michelle and onto his own back in the bed. He’d pushed his limits as far as alcohol tolerance was concerned, and was comfortable with not exploring them any farther. However, as he steps into the kitchen, he is relieved, and pleasantly surprised to see that it’s not Sienna standing at the stove, flipping pancakes.
”Well, well.”
”Oh hey there…” Evan offers a faux-nervous smile, feigning ignorance to Michelle’s presence. ”Who-- who the hell let you in here?”
”Hmmmm, can’t really remember. Some half-drunk asshole that had his fly open the whole night from what I can piece together… But, damn, he was cute.”
”And I missed every single second of this?”
”I thought the obnoxiously loud sex in the middle of the night would’ve woken you up. Guess not.”
Evan feels his ears grow a bit hot at Michelle’s audacity, but he naturally maintains composure, watching with curiosity as she moves from the stove and over to him, a look in her eyes that hadn’t been present the days or nights before. A warm, welcoming one with no hesitance or insincerity. And in that instant, the word “beautiful” briefly swam through Evan’s mind, but just as quickly found itself lost behind the growing aforementioned curiosity.
There was so much Evan wanted to know about this girl, and so little time to do it. He had two days until he had to compete on Monday Night Meltdown in the six-person tag team match. With the inclusion of an Overdrive or Asylum Megastar, it was arguably the most star-studded match Meltdown had ever seen. He had interviews to conduct. Questions to answer. Fans to Tweet. Haters to Tweet.
Yet somehow, all of this was pushed to the back of his mind as he observed her standing there, dressed in a simple peach-colored tank top that she’d changed into the night before, and a black pair of nylon shorts belonging to Evan. Her hair was tied back, loosely and sloppily behind her head and she had absolutely no makeup on, but she was the sexiest Evan had ever seen her. He hadn’t wanted her more than he wanted her in that moment. That is, until, she pushed herself up on her tip-toes, steadying herself by placing her hands on Evan’s shoulders and planting a soft kiss on his lips.
Breakfast was simple, yet satisfying. She had used some of the ingredients left behind by Sienna to recreate the waffles, sans chocolate chips, and scrambled the remaining eggs. The meat had been left untouched, as Michelle briefly made mention of her knowledge of Evan’s vegetarianism. Normally, this would have signaled a red flag to Evan, because she would have no reason to know about that unless she was a die-hard fan that was after his wallet, or she had spent a disgusting amount of time with Sienna and Becca. Sadly, Evan was banking on the latter.
Vegetarianism. Evan earned an odd look from Michelle due to his outright laughter of the word as he went over it in his head. The way she said it made it sound like it was some sort of a disease. He didn’t mention it to her, and played the laugh off as something else… He couldn’t remember exactly what it was. She accepted it and the subject was dropped.
And somehow she’d managed to convince him to go to the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and Museum.
Presidents. Cool. And not even dead ones. Evan was thrilled, if you can put that in the most sarcastic tone you can muster. Oh well… It was something to do. It was a chance to spend time with Michelle, and he was positive that there wouldn’t be a bunch of brats running up to him there of all places begging for an autograph.
For the most part, Evan was right. There was only one brat running up to him begging for an autograph. A stocky southern boy who looked and smelled like he just returned from the gym before encountering Evan stepping out of the passenger side of Michelle’s silver Ford Taurus. So much for being low profile. Regardless, Evan had signed the autograph (he signed his name in a red Sharpie over a blank check from the guy‘s checkbook), making it very obvious how annoyed he was about being approached with someone with such poor hygiene, before hastily sending the young man on his way.
Upon entering the building, Evan casts Michelle a light smirk.
”So this is where you always begged your parents to take you as a kid, eh? Chuck E Cheese’s must not be too big down here.”
Michelle rolls her eyes, giving Evan a playful punch in the arm before immediately submitting and wrapping her arms around his.
”It’s a cool place. My family’s a… They’re really into presidents. It’s a little different.”
”Oh. Coooooool. So they’re like, uber-patriots?” Damnit. Rednecks. Evan had been afraid of this.
”…Ehhh… No. They’re just really into presidents. Maybe one day you’ll come over and see what I mean.” She giggles and pulls him along toward the south corridor. ”If you stick around long enough anyway.”
”Parents love me.”
”Right. And the other twenty-million people constantly telling you how much they hate you?”
”It’s love. It’s all love. Way to have absolutely no confidence in me…”
”Hahaha, well, when you stop telling every city you visit how much they all suck, I’ll start having faith in you as a humanitarian.”
”Hey, now. It’s not like I’m… Evil. I helped donate money to charity the other day with all those autographs and whatnot.”
Michelle smirks, perking an eyebrow. ”Bet you can’t name the percentage of the profits went toward the charity. And I bet you can’t name the charity.”
Her smirk evolves into another giggle as Evan’s face drops a bit, realizing that he’d never bothered to ask. Sure, donating to charities looked good for publicity, but any Evan Envi fan (or hater) was kidding themselves if they thought Evan was going to look that much into it. At the end of the day, it came back down to how it made Evan feel as a person. It had little to do with the people he helped. Not so deep down, Evan is quite aware of it. But does he give a damn?
”No. I probably can’t.”
Evan says this with a look of utter defeat on his face. Michelle laughs again and simply shrugs.
”At least you’re honest.”
”And I’m crucified for it every week.”
”Doesn’t that irritate you?”
”Honestly?”
Evan gazes ahead, toward the library section of the building. He nervously scratches the back of his neck with his free hand for a moment.
”I think we should save the career-talk for downtime.” He smiles fondly at Michelle. ”We’re here. We’re out and it’s not every day I get to come to Atlanta…”
”Fair enough. Though, you’re one-hundred percent aware that I’m gonna come back to this subject tonight, right?”
A part of Evan was mildly annoyed by it. He loved talking about himself-- loved it-- but he was interested in getting to know Michelle more. She was so interesting, and so mysterious, and after her outing with Sienna and Becca she had so much more information on Evan, it almost seemed unfair. However a larger part of Evan was relieved that she was so compelled… And he was pleased that she referenced “tonight.” Another night with Michelle Weaver? An enjoyable idea.
And she did. She would eventually approach the subject, and have the nerve to question a lot more than Evan thought she would… But that’s a story for later.
For over two hours, the two roamed the library. Occasionally, one of them would pick up one of the twenty-five-million-plus books or collections of documents with legitimate interest, with Michelle’s interests leaning toward the earlier documents, and personal stories about Carter while Evan’s led him toward sections and authors that discussed political crime and radical activism.
More often than not, the two would get distracted from whatever they were currently reading, typically by the other’s constant need for attention. To the chagrin of the (typically much older) men and women that visited the library, the two would satisfy this craving with their lips… And their hands. This would eventually lead to the two making their way out of the library as the murmurs and whispers became more apparent.
The trouble didn’t begin until about 2:00 when Michelle led Evan into a section of the museum that he hadn’t been aware of, far from where they came.
She motioned for him to be quiet as they entered a hallway with dimly lit lights. It seemed more personally inviting than the other corridors throughout the building… It had a carpet, and a wooden finish throughout the halls whereas the others had not. All of the rooms’ doors were shut, with velvet ropes stretched across the length of each wall, suggesting that nobody attempt to enter them. Michelle grabs Evan’s hand and together they walk to the end of the hallway, toward the last door-- a large double door-- on the right. It too is closed off by the velvet rope.
As Evan feared she would, Michelle twists the knob of one of the doors, pushing both of them open with mild struggle… And to his surprise, they swing right open. She hops over the rope and walks inside, turning to Evan with a smirk.
”Wow. You’re a criminal. I should have expected it.”
”You comin’ in?”
”Well, obviously. But for now I’m content with standing out here and judging you. I’m starting to question whether you’ve used these skills for evil.”
Michelle closes one of the doors.
With that, Evan hops the rope into the room before she closes the second one behind him. The lights of the room were already turned on. Evan supposed that they always were due to some sort of circuit on a timer in the museum… But honestly, he was only thinking of that because he didn’t know what else to think of in this situation. Michelle was checking out the room and Evan didn’t know exactly why it was so important that she be in there. More importantly, he was concerned about the lack of alarm. What kind of museum was this?
Then he notices it.
This isn’t just a room. If he didn’t know about Michelle’s family’s presidents-craze, he likely wouldn’t have taken too much notice to the fact that they were standing in an exact replica of the Oval Office. Evan nearly chuckles at the coincidence which isn’t quite so coincidental. His eyes travel over the length of the room, from the shelves on either side, to the paint job itself, to the ceiling. His eyes fall back down in search of Michelle, and they quickly find her sitting on the edge of the desk.
Like rabbits, the two pounced on each other. It didn’t take much provocation from either-- love was shamelessly made on that desk. On the carpet. On the chair.
Several points of the adventure caused Evan to feel absurdly awkward in ways that he thought were unique to say the least. The first was when Michelle felt the need to tell bits and pieces of her life story to Evan whilst on top of him. She mentioned being born in Washington D.C. and living there for the first year of her life while her parents briefly lived in an apartment about three miles from the White House. Her father was an architect and had been one of a handful of men in charge of redesigning the replica Oval Office, as well as several other rooms in the Jimmy Carter Library and Museum. He needed to take personal notes of several rooms throughout the White House, and spent nearly two years of his life in D.C. doing just that.
This information does not arouse Evan Envi.
A second story would have occurred, and it had something to do with middle school, so Evan would have likely remained uninterested in the conversation-- however this is where trouble occurred. While Evan was largely inconvenienced by the loud interruption, he is silently thankful that he doesn’t have to hear this shit.
Like lightning, Michelle’s head whips toward the door and in the same fluid motion she leaps off of Evan, allowing the yellow sundress she had worn to fall down over her thighs. Evan is in a slightly more awkward position, sitting reclined in the leather chair behind the Oval Office desk. He can only hope to zip up his pants at a moderate pace.
A man and a woman-- in Evan’s opinion, rather goofy-looking security guards-- stand in the doorway, looks of pure disgust on their faces. The man has to be well into his fifties, if not sixty years old. He is a Native-American man that stands about two inches taller than Evan, and seems far too skinny to be of any physical use as a security guard. This uselessness is heavily accentuated by the fact that his right arm is in a sling. Evan immediately takes note of this.
He’s bald, though he has a full gray beard that gives him the intimidating look that he would otherwise lack. The woman is probably the same size as Michelle, with bright orange hair tied into a tight bun behind her head, pale skin, and distractingly-large green eyes, magnified behind thick glasses. Evan thought that if it weren’t for the glasses and the uniform which was at least a size too big, she’d be attractive. She turns to the older male security guard, who by this point is shaking his head, disapprovingly.
”In all my years… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
”Please. You’re making me blush.”
While Michelle face-palms, the man makes his way over to Evan, who is pushing himself up to his feet out of the chair.
”You think this is a joke?”
”Well. No. Not if you’re telling it. You don’t look like you have a funny bone in your body. HAAAA! Get it? Because your arm---”
”You’re desecrating a national museum, young man. I don’t see any humor in this. I’m personally insulted by the lewd---” The man’s eyes travel up toward Michelle, who seems to be trying to hide her face, her arms crossed and her head turned. ”Michelle Weaver.” He doesn’t say it in an inquisitive tone, but a certain one. She is forced to turn her head toward him and smile nervously.
”Hey, Joe.”
The security guard, now recognizable as Joe simply scoffs, throwing his free arm up in the air and shaking his head. The next few minutes were uncomfortable, as Joe asked Michelle what her father would think of it and why she thought she’d get away with it. Michelle explained that the alarm to the Oval Office was never on. It was closed off to the public more often than not unless a tour was taking place, and from doing side-work at the museum alongside her father, Michelle explained her knowledge of the gentlemen that came in every Saturday evening to clean the carpets and make sure every bit of the replica office was perfectly aligned… The office was never locked on Saturdays, and she’d taken advantage of it.
Joe mentioned for his younger, red-headed partner to take note and make sure they started locking the doors.
Although Joe gave Evan a look that suggested that he outright hated the kid, Evan was surprised with the smoothness of Michelle’s words. She apologized profusely, and sucked up to Joe, mentioning that he looked like he’d been working out at one point. As Joe graciously accepted her comment, it took all Evan could to keep himself from laughing. And within five minutes, the whole situation had been forgiven. Almost forgotten.
And then that red-headed twat, who Joe would later acknowledge as Caroline, had to open her mouth.
”You’re Evan Harrison!”
”Envi.”
”Wow! It took me a while to figure out it was you, but there’s no way it’s not! I had no idea you were still in Atlanta-- I’m going to your show on Monday!”
Evan smirks a bit as Caroline refers to it as his “show.” Funny how so many of these fans were so intelligent one-on-one, but when group mentality kicked in at those live events, they would boo at the top of their lungs, mindlessly. There goes his mind, wandering again.
”Well, I hope you got good seats.”
Normally, Evan wouldn’t have entertained someone with small-talk about seating at an APW event. However, this time Evan isn’t at a point of leverage. He would follow suit and take Michelle’s route in sucking up to the guards.
”Third row!”
”Oh? Well, that’s good. It won’t be hard to miss you then.” With that bright-ass hair.
”A show? What are you, a singer?”
”He’s a wrestler, Joe! You haven’t heard of him? Evan Harrison.”
”Envi.”
”No… I haven’t watched that shit since the 80s.” He looks up at Evan with an indifferent look and shrugs. ”No offense, son.”
”To each his own.”
And it was shortly after this that Caroline asked Evan for his autograph. There. There was something he hated as of late and he just didn’t know why it made him so angry.
Well. Not yet. It would take months before he truly discovered the answer. And it was a complex one.
All this aside, Evan did a superb job at hiding his disapproval. Later Michelle mentioned that Evan had a grimace on his face the entire time as he was presented with an index card, writing a tiny personalized note dedicated to Caroline McShannon which to his memory said something along the lines of “To my favorite security guard-- thanks for not calling the cops on us for desecrating the name of the great Jimmy Carter. Peace, love, rock-and-roll.”
The most annoying part was the actual signature. Even realized that he’d made it a lot more intricate over the years. Really, it was his own fault. But once the index card was returned to Caroline, the two were shooed away with a warning. Evan never actually found out how they were caught, or what happened to Joe’s arm which provided Evan with material for a good ol’ fashioned injury joke.
They don’t stick around too much longer. Later in the afternoon, the two even found their way to Zoo Atlanta. Evan encountered no one running up and begging for an autograph to his surprise and relief, though a small group of teenage boys shouted insults to him from a distance on two different occasions.
They were Kurt Noble fans. In Envi’s mind, this should have been a clear indication of their poor taste and etiquette.
After leaving the zoo, Evan mentioned to Michelle that a trip to the store was necessary. With a quick breeze through the aisles and the swipe of a credit card, Envi purchased enough food to feed a small family for three days… Perhaps too much. Again, this was his own fault. Shopping whilst hungry isn’t highly recommended.
Around 7:00 that Saturday night, the two return to the Savi guest house. Evan prepares a penne pasta dish, complemented by Italian-style garlic rolls and red wine. (Due to the previous night’s events, Evan was swearing off beer and most hard liquor…)
Sometime during watching the remake of Fright Night (which, in Envi’s opinion features a vampire closely resembling Mark Mania), Michelle Weaver would pull her legs up onto the couch and curl up next to Evan, speaking in a soft tone.
”So tell me why it pisses you off so much.”
Evan had forgotten about the miniature conversation the two had earlier. He turns to Michelle, laughing lightly. ”Wha?”
”You said you get ‘crucified’ for speaking the truth every week. And… No one uses the term ‘crucified’ to describe something they just get over, or something they just push off to the side.”
Michelle studies Evan’s eyes for a few moments before smiling up at him, reaching some internal conclusion that justified his hardened expression.
”I’m not gonna act like I don’t watch APW. I do. A few of my friends got me into it. And you hate it when those people boo you.”
”Sometimes.” Evan found that he had no desire to lie to Michelle, or beat around the bush about how he felt. ”I mean, my entire career I’ve been the good guy. I was the guy that the kids loved. I could relate to my entire generation… Like, I was the voice of all those rich kids in the suburbs that didn’t know what they wanted to do in life because their parents were too busy making money to push them toward anything. I was the voice of the kids that didn’t have anything except for their dreams and shit. It didn’t mater who you were, you could always find something to relate to in Evan Harrison.”
Envi looks down for a moment, finding that even though his eyes never came off of the television screen, he wasn’t paying any attention to the movie.
”And a lot of the time, that guy wasn’t real.
“I wouldn’t say I was fake at any point in my career, but I held a lot of feelings back for a long time. I guess… It was easier that way. When you’re the good guy, parents are paying top-dollar for your merch so their kids can run around pretending to be you. I made people money. So I kept the smile on my face, kept playing with the fans, kept rubbing elbows with the suits…
“And it didn’t really help me too much. I was always the guy that was looked toward to put on five-star matches. Everybody had an opinion about me, but nobody had the balls to let me be the guy. I wasn’t given too many World title shots, no matter how much I earned them. Men that were only half as good as me got that shot first because they knew somebody with some sway. Or because they were bigger than me. Or both.
“So by the time I got here, I realized I was sick of it. I’ve learned from history and I decided immediately that I wasn’t going to pander to these people who at the end of the day don’t really give two shits about me. And I’m not going to kiss corporate tail anymore just so I can have another fifteen minutes in the spotlight. I’m proud of what I’ve done in the ring. I know I deserve better than what I’ve gotten-- than what I’m getting now-- and I speak up about it.
“I speak up about it, and for that, the fans turn on me. They don’t like that I have the audacity to talk about President Jeff like the second-rate corporate suit that he is. I know how backstage politics work. I see right through Jeff and Diamond’s façade. They’re trying to keep me on Meltdown so I can bring them ratings. They won’t let me in Test for the Best because I’ll win, and I’ll get to leave Meltdown ASAP.
“And I refuse to be that guy again. I REFUSE to be the guy that saves the sinking ship. Maybe I want a fucking lifeboat.”
Mchelle opens her mouth to say something, but ultimately decides that she doesn’t even know what she would say, and closes it again.
”I’m not a modest guy. That doesn’t get you anywhere. For once in my life, I want the industry to do something for me. For Evan Envi. I want to be the guy heralded and praised for being ridiculously fantastic at everyting he does. I don’t wanna be the guy patted on the back for being a work horse… I want to be regarded as the best, worldwide. I can’t do that if I fall into the same hole I always fall into, being held back by selfish businessmen that want to squeeze every penny out of me until nobody cares about me anymore.
“It’s frustrating. This is my career and since I’ve started, my bosses have been playing chicken with it. I want something to change. I guess the fans don’t want what I want.”
After this tirade, Evan takes a deep breath and falls silent. Michelle had been waiting a few seconds for him to finish before she continues.
”Well then. What are you gonna do?”
What are you gonna do?
For years, Evan had been asked that question. Sometimes he had an answer, and sometimes not. Evan often found himself in a position with his back against the wall for one reason or another. And ”what are you gonna do?” was usually the closest thing to either support or advice he ever got.
”I’m gonna raise hell.”
”Mmmm, what if that doesn’t work?”
”It always works.”
”Cocky, much?”
”Confident. Extremely confident.”
”And you think that’ll get your fans back?”
”Couldn’t care less, really. They haven’t helped me up to this point.” Evan gives Michelle a warm gaze. ”I hope you’re still a fan though.”
”You’re alright. Carmen Rivera’s better.”
Michelle winks up at Evan, moving out of the way as he playfully throws a slow-motion fist toward her jaw. She instead angles her head to kiss his fist and allows herself to roll forward into his arms.
”I don’t think you’re gonna get stuck in that hole again.”
”I hope not.”
”You just have to stay positive.”
Positive. Evan Envi had been positive for a long time. For most of his life, really. And when he suddenly noticed that his glass was half-empty, he found some of his greatest success. To humor Michelle, Evan promised her that he would, and the two soon dropped the subject. There was tension in the room when Evan talked about the trials and tribulations that led him to this moment in his career, so he tried his best not to initiate those conversations… It was like therapy though. Michelle was always there to talk to. She was always eager to listen, and usually Evan was eager to talk.
Eventually the two had made their way back to the bedroom, another night in the books. While Michelle fell asleep at Evan’s side almost immediately, Evan stared up at the rotating ceiling fan, deep in thought. Horrible thoughts raced through his mind.
What if he was stuck in this infinite loop in his career and APW was no different? What if he had only won the North American Title as a part of some sick plan orchestrated by the most dastardly minds in the universe in an attempt to keep him away from the “big leagues”? There was no way he was going to let it happen again.
Even wasn’t sure what he was going to be able to do about it at 1:00 in the morning on a Sunday, but he was damn-sure he was never going to let it happen to him again.
Ever.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Easy lover
She'll get a hold on you, believe it
Like no other
Before you know it you'll be on your knees..."
"Easy lover
She'll get a hold on you, believe it
Like no other
Before you know it you'll be on your knees..."
June 9th. Two days away from Monday Night Meltdown in Duluth. It seemed to be approaching so quickly.
Luckily, Saturday morning and the events succeeding it went much smoother than the day before, according to Evan Envi.
As his friend since childhood, Andre Savi had warned him, Evan was blowing things out of proportion. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Evan was having an internal meltdown, thinking of the various subjects that could come up in conversation between his sister Sienna, Andre’s wife and a longtime friend to Evan in her own right, Becca… and Michelle. The new flame. Unexpectedly the three women had an outing and Evan expected the worst, but as far as he could tell, nothing detrimental toward his relationship happened.
Nothing that Evan knew about anyway.
He didn’t know the specifics of their evening, but when Michelle returned to the guest house around 10:30 on Friday evening, she was sporting a slightly shorter haircut and a new style entirely. She was wearing clothes that Evan was sure were much beyond her price range, and had seemingly purchased an entire new wardrobe. She’d been delighted.
Delighted and slightly drunk, which was fine since Evan, Andre, and a highly amusing neighbor of his had hastily devoured a twelve-pack late in the evening. They’d acted like a bunch of kids that had just graduated and were eager to celebrate in the most adult way possible.
The two had found their way to the master bedroom rather quickly after her arrival, where they remained for upwards of an hour before returning to the living room and watching movies until the wee hours of the morning. For hours, they talked. They talked about everything. The conversation ranged from Evan’s love of Paul McCartney, to Becca’s love of Tyler the Creator-- from Becca’s three cats, to the horses that Evan, Sienna, and their brothers owned-- from Becca’s journey to womanhood during sleep away camp, to Evan’s self-discovery after falling out of the public eye years ago.
He wasn’t sure where or when it stopped… The warmth of the sunlight at about 8:55 A.M. is what finally jolted him awake.
Evan Envi calmly makes his way to the kitchen of Andre Savi’s guest house. He approaches cautiously as he’s overcome with a feeling of deja-vu. Like the morning before, he can smell breakfast cooking. He finds himself at a loss for an explanation because he couldn’t even remember falling asleep last night. He had no recollection of Michelle leaving, but he would be shocked-- shocked if she was standing in the kitchen, preparing a meal right now. But… He just didn’t remember the last few moments of his night.
That was modest. Evan didn’t remember at all much after rolling off of Michelle and onto his own back in the bed. He’d pushed his limits as far as alcohol tolerance was concerned, and was comfortable with not exploring them any farther. However, as he steps into the kitchen, he is relieved, and pleasantly surprised to see that it’s not Sienna standing at the stove, flipping pancakes.
”Well, well.”
”Oh hey there…” Evan offers a faux-nervous smile, feigning ignorance to Michelle’s presence. ”Who-- who the hell let you in here?”
”Hmmmm, can’t really remember. Some half-drunk asshole that had his fly open the whole night from what I can piece together… But, damn, he was cute.”
”And I missed every single second of this?”
”I thought the obnoxiously loud sex in the middle of the night would’ve woken you up. Guess not.”
Evan feels his ears grow a bit hot at Michelle’s audacity, but he naturally maintains composure, watching with curiosity as she moves from the stove and over to him, a look in her eyes that hadn’t been present the days or nights before. A warm, welcoming one with no hesitance or insincerity. And in that instant, the word “beautiful” briefly swam through Evan’s mind, but just as quickly found itself lost behind the growing aforementioned curiosity.
There was so much Evan wanted to know about this girl, and so little time to do it. He had two days until he had to compete on Monday Night Meltdown in the six-person tag team match. With the inclusion of an Overdrive or Asylum Megastar, it was arguably the most star-studded match Meltdown had ever seen. He had interviews to conduct. Questions to answer. Fans to Tweet. Haters to Tweet.
Yet somehow, all of this was pushed to the back of his mind as he observed her standing there, dressed in a simple peach-colored tank top that she’d changed into the night before, and a black pair of nylon shorts belonging to Evan. Her hair was tied back, loosely and sloppily behind her head and she had absolutely no makeup on, but she was the sexiest Evan had ever seen her. He hadn’t wanted her more than he wanted her in that moment. That is, until, she pushed herself up on her tip-toes, steadying herself by placing her hands on Evan’s shoulders and planting a soft kiss on his lips.
Breakfast was simple, yet satisfying. She had used some of the ingredients left behind by Sienna to recreate the waffles, sans chocolate chips, and scrambled the remaining eggs. The meat had been left untouched, as Michelle briefly made mention of her knowledge of Evan’s vegetarianism. Normally, this would have signaled a red flag to Evan, because she would have no reason to know about that unless she was a die-hard fan that was after his wallet, or she had spent a disgusting amount of time with Sienna and Becca. Sadly, Evan was banking on the latter.
Vegetarianism. Evan earned an odd look from Michelle due to his outright laughter of the word as he went over it in his head. The way she said it made it sound like it was some sort of a disease. He didn’t mention it to her, and played the laugh off as something else… He couldn’t remember exactly what it was. She accepted it and the subject was dropped.
And somehow she’d managed to convince him to go to the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and Museum.
Presidents. Cool. And not even dead ones. Evan was thrilled, if you can put that in the most sarcastic tone you can muster. Oh well… It was something to do. It was a chance to spend time with Michelle, and he was positive that there wouldn’t be a bunch of brats running up to him there of all places begging for an autograph.
For the most part, Evan was right. There was only one brat running up to him begging for an autograph. A stocky southern boy who looked and smelled like he just returned from the gym before encountering Evan stepping out of the passenger side of Michelle’s silver Ford Taurus. So much for being low profile. Regardless, Evan had signed the autograph (he signed his name in a red Sharpie over a blank check from the guy‘s checkbook), making it very obvious how annoyed he was about being approached with someone with such poor hygiene, before hastily sending the young man on his way.
Upon entering the building, Evan casts Michelle a light smirk.
”So this is where you always begged your parents to take you as a kid, eh? Chuck E Cheese’s must not be too big down here.”
Michelle rolls her eyes, giving Evan a playful punch in the arm before immediately submitting and wrapping her arms around his.
”It’s a cool place. My family’s a… They’re really into presidents. It’s a little different.”
”Oh. Coooooool. So they’re like, uber-patriots?” Damnit. Rednecks. Evan had been afraid of this.
”…Ehhh… No. They’re just really into presidents. Maybe one day you’ll come over and see what I mean.” She giggles and pulls him along toward the south corridor. ”If you stick around long enough anyway.”
”Parents love me.”
”Right. And the other twenty-million people constantly telling you how much they hate you?”
”It’s love. It’s all love. Way to have absolutely no confidence in me…”
”Hahaha, well, when you stop telling every city you visit how much they all suck, I’ll start having faith in you as a humanitarian.”
”Hey, now. It’s not like I’m… Evil. I helped donate money to charity the other day with all those autographs and whatnot.”
Michelle smirks, perking an eyebrow. ”Bet you can’t name the percentage of the profits went toward the charity. And I bet you can’t name the charity.”
Her smirk evolves into another giggle as Evan’s face drops a bit, realizing that he’d never bothered to ask. Sure, donating to charities looked good for publicity, but any Evan Envi fan (or hater) was kidding themselves if they thought Evan was going to look that much into it. At the end of the day, it came back down to how it made Evan feel as a person. It had little to do with the people he helped. Not so deep down, Evan is quite aware of it. But does he give a damn?
”No. I probably can’t.”
Evan says this with a look of utter defeat on his face. Michelle laughs again and simply shrugs.
”At least you’re honest.”
”And I’m crucified for it every week.”
”Doesn’t that irritate you?”
”Honestly?”
Evan gazes ahead, toward the library section of the building. He nervously scratches the back of his neck with his free hand for a moment.
”I think we should save the career-talk for downtime.” He smiles fondly at Michelle. ”We’re here. We’re out and it’s not every day I get to come to Atlanta…”
”Fair enough. Though, you’re one-hundred percent aware that I’m gonna come back to this subject tonight, right?”
A part of Evan was mildly annoyed by it. He loved talking about himself-- loved it-- but he was interested in getting to know Michelle more. She was so interesting, and so mysterious, and after her outing with Sienna and Becca she had so much more information on Evan, it almost seemed unfair. However a larger part of Evan was relieved that she was so compelled… And he was pleased that she referenced “tonight.” Another night with Michelle Weaver? An enjoyable idea.
And she did. She would eventually approach the subject, and have the nerve to question a lot more than Evan thought she would… But that’s a story for later.
For over two hours, the two roamed the library. Occasionally, one of them would pick up one of the twenty-five-million-plus books or collections of documents with legitimate interest, with Michelle’s interests leaning toward the earlier documents, and personal stories about Carter while Evan’s led him toward sections and authors that discussed political crime and radical activism.
More often than not, the two would get distracted from whatever they were currently reading, typically by the other’s constant need for attention. To the chagrin of the (typically much older) men and women that visited the library, the two would satisfy this craving with their lips… And their hands. This would eventually lead to the two making their way out of the library as the murmurs and whispers became more apparent.
The trouble didn’t begin until about 2:00 when Michelle led Evan into a section of the museum that he hadn’t been aware of, far from where they came.
She motioned for him to be quiet as they entered a hallway with dimly lit lights. It seemed more personally inviting than the other corridors throughout the building… It had a carpet, and a wooden finish throughout the halls whereas the others had not. All of the rooms’ doors were shut, with velvet ropes stretched across the length of each wall, suggesting that nobody attempt to enter them. Michelle grabs Evan’s hand and together they walk to the end of the hallway, toward the last door-- a large double door-- on the right. It too is closed off by the velvet rope.
As Evan feared she would, Michelle twists the knob of one of the doors, pushing both of them open with mild struggle… And to his surprise, they swing right open. She hops over the rope and walks inside, turning to Evan with a smirk.
”Wow. You’re a criminal. I should have expected it.”
”You comin’ in?”
”Well, obviously. But for now I’m content with standing out here and judging you. I’m starting to question whether you’ve used these skills for evil.”
Michelle closes one of the doors.
With that, Evan hops the rope into the room before she closes the second one behind him. The lights of the room were already turned on. Evan supposed that they always were due to some sort of circuit on a timer in the museum… But honestly, he was only thinking of that because he didn’t know what else to think of in this situation. Michelle was checking out the room and Evan didn’t know exactly why it was so important that she be in there. More importantly, he was concerned about the lack of alarm. What kind of museum was this?
Then he notices it.
This isn’t just a room. If he didn’t know about Michelle’s family’s presidents-craze, he likely wouldn’t have taken too much notice to the fact that they were standing in an exact replica of the Oval Office. Evan nearly chuckles at the coincidence which isn’t quite so coincidental. His eyes travel over the length of the room, from the shelves on either side, to the paint job itself, to the ceiling. His eyes fall back down in search of Michelle, and they quickly find her sitting on the edge of the desk.
Like rabbits, the two pounced on each other. It didn’t take much provocation from either-- love was shamelessly made on that desk. On the carpet. On the chair.
Several points of the adventure caused Evan to feel absurdly awkward in ways that he thought were unique to say the least. The first was when Michelle felt the need to tell bits and pieces of her life story to Evan whilst on top of him. She mentioned being born in Washington D.C. and living there for the first year of her life while her parents briefly lived in an apartment about three miles from the White House. Her father was an architect and had been one of a handful of men in charge of redesigning the replica Oval Office, as well as several other rooms in the Jimmy Carter Library and Museum. He needed to take personal notes of several rooms throughout the White House, and spent nearly two years of his life in D.C. doing just that.
This information does not arouse Evan Envi.
A second story would have occurred, and it had something to do with middle school, so Evan would have likely remained uninterested in the conversation-- however this is where trouble occurred. While Evan was largely inconvenienced by the loud interruption, he is silently thankful that he doesn’t have to hear this shit.
Like lightning, Michelle’s head whips toward the door and in the same fluid motion she leaps off of Evan, allowing the yellow sundress she had worn to fall down over her thighs. Evan is in a slightly more awkward position, sitting reclined in the leather chair behind the Oval Office desk. He can only hope to zip up his pants at a moderate pace.
A man and a woman-- in Evan’s opinion, rather goofy-looking security guards-- stand in the doorway, looks of pure disgust on their faces. The man has to be well into his fifties, if not sixty years old. He is a Native-American man that stands about two inches taller than Evan, and seems far too skinny to be of any physical use as a security guard. This uselessness is heavily accentuated by the fact that his right arm is in a sling. Evan immediately takes note of this.
He’s bald, though he has a full gray beard that gives him the intimidating look that he would otherwise lack. The woman is probably the same size as Michelle, with bright orange hair tied into a tight bun behind her head, pale skin, and distractingly-large green eyes, magnified behind thick glasses. Evan thought that if it weren’t for the glasses and the uniform which was at least a size too big, she’d be attractive. She turns to the older male security guard, who by this point is shaking his head, disapprovingly.
”In all my years… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
”Please. You’re making me blush.”
While Michelle face-palms, the man makes his way over to Evan, who is pushing himself up to his feet out of the chair.
”You think this is a joke?”
”Well. No. Not if you’re telling it. You don’t look like you have a funny bone in your body. HAAAA! Get it? Because your arm---”
”You’re desecrating a national museum, young man. I don’t see any humor in this. I’m personally insulted by the lewd---” The man’s eyes travel up toward Michelle, who seems to be trying to hide her face, her arms crossed and her head turned. ”Michelle Weaver.” He doesn’t say it in an inquisitive tone, but a certain one. She is forced to turn her head toward him and smile nervously.
”Hey, Joe.”
The security guard, now recognizable as Joe simply scoffs, throwing his free arm up in the air and shaking his head. The next few minutes were uncomfortable, as Joe asked Michelle what her father would think of it and why she thought she’d get away with it. Michelle explained that the alarm to the Oval Office was never on. It was closed off to the public more often than not unless a tour was taking place, and from doing side-work at the museum alongside her father, Michelle explained her knowledge of the gentlemen that came in every Saturday evening to clean the carpets and make sure every bit of the replica office was perfectly aligned… The office was never locked on Saturdays, and she’d taken advantage of it.
Joe mentioned for his younger, red-headed partner to take note and make sure they started locking the doors.
Although Joe gave Evan a look that suggested that he outright hated the kid, Evan was surprised with the smoothness of Michelle’s words. She apologized profusely, and sucked up to Joe, mentioning that he looked like he’d been working out at one point. As Joe graciously accepted her comment, it took all Evan could to keep himself from laughing. And within five minutes, the whole situation had been forgiven. Almost forgotten.
And then that red-headed twat, who Joe would later acknowledge as Caroline, had to open her mouth.
”You’re Evan Harrison!”
”Envi.”
”Wow! It took me a while to figure out it was you, but there’s no way it’s not! I had no idea you were still in Atlanta-- I’m going to your show on Monday!”
Evan smirks a bit as Caroline refers to it as his “show.” Funny how so many of these fans were so intelligent one-on-one, but when group mentality kicked in at those live events, they would boo at the top of their lungs, mindlessly. There goes his mind, wandering again.
”Well, I hope you got good seats.”
Normally, Evan wouldn’t have entertained someone with small-talk about seating at an APW event. However, this time Evan isn’t at a point of leverage. He would follow suit and take Michelle’s route in sucking up to the guards.
”Third row!”
”Oh? Well, that’s good. It won’t be hard to miss you then.” With that bright-ass hair.
”A show? What are you, a singer?”
”He’s a wrestler, Joe! You haven’t heard of him? Evan Harrison.”
”Envi.”
”No… I haven’t watched that shit since the 80s.” He looks up at Evan with an indifferent look and shrugs. ”No offense, son.”
”To each his own.”
And it was shortly after this that Caroline asked Evan for his autograph. There. There was something he hated as of late and he just didn’t know why it made him so angry.
Well. Not yet. It would take months before he truly discovered the answer. And it was a complex one.
All this aside, Evan did a superb job at hiding his disapproval. Later Michelle mentioned that Evan had a grimace on his face the entire time as he was presented with an index card, writing a tiny personalized note dedicated to Caroline McShannon which to his memory said something along the lines of “To my favorite security guard-- thanks for not calling the cops on us for desecrating the name of the great Jimmy Carter. Peace, love, rock-and-roll.”
The most annoying part was the actual signature. Even realized that he’d made it a lot more intricate over the years. Really, it was his own fault. But once the index card was returned to Caroline, the two were shooed away with a warning. Evan never actually found out how they were caught, or what happened to Joe’s arm which provided Evan with material for a good ol’ fashioned injury joke.
They don’t stick around too much longer. Later in the afternoon, the two even found their way to Zoo Atlanta. Evan encountered no one running up and begging for an autograph to his surprise and relief, though a small group of teenage boys shouted insults to him from a distance on two different occasions.
They were Kurt Noble fans. In Envi’s mind, this should have been a clear indication of their poor taste and etiquette.
After leaving the zoo, Evan mentioned to Michelle that a trip to the store was necessary. With a quick breeze through the aisles and the swipe of a credit card, Envi purchased enough food to feed a small family for three days… Perhaps too much. Again, this was his own fault. Shopping whilst hungry isn’t highly recommended.
Around 7:00 that Saturday night, the two return to the Savi guest house. Evan prepares a penne pasta dish, complemented by Italian-style garlic rolls and red wine. (Due to the previous night’s events, Evan was swearing off beer and most hard liquor…)
Sometime during watching the remake of Fright Night (which, in Envi’s opinion features a vampire closely resembling Mark Mania), Michelle Weaver would pull her legs up onto the couch and curl up next to Evan, speaking in a soft tone.
”So tell me why it pisses you off so much.”
Evan had forgotten about the miniature conversation the two had earlier. He turns to Michelle, laughing lightly. ”Wha?”
”You said you get ‘crucified’ for speaking the truth every week. And… No one uses the term ‘crucified’ to describe something they just get over, or something they just push off to the side.”
Michelle studies Evan’s eyes for a few moments before smiling up at him, reaching some internal conclusion that justified his hardened expression.
”I’m not gonna act like I don’t watch APW. I do. A few of my friends got me into it. And you hate it when those people boo you.”
”Sometimes.” Evan found that he had no desire to lie to Michelle, or beat around the bush about how he felt. ”I mean, my entire career I’ve been the good guy. I was the guy that the kids loved. I could relate to my entire generation… Like, I was the voice of all those rich kids in the suburbs that didn’t know what they wanted to do in life because their parents were too busy making money to push them toward anything. I was the voice of the kids that didn’t have anything except for their dreams and shit. It didn’t mater who you were, you could always find something to relate to in Evan Harrison.”
Envi looks down for a moment, finding that even though his eyes never came off of the television screen, he wasn’t paying any attention to the movie.
”And a lot of the time, that guy wasn’t real.
“I wouldn’t say I was fake at any point in my career, but I held a lot of feelings back for a long time. I guess… It was easier that way. When you’re the good guy, parents are paying top-dollar for your merch so their kids can run around pretending to be you. I made people money. So I kept the smile on my face, kept playing with the fans, kept rubbing elbows with the suits…
“And it didn’t really help me too much. I was always the guy that was looked toward to put on five-star matches. Everybody had an opinion about me, but nobody had the balls to let me be the guy. I wasn’t given too many World title shots, no matter how much I earned them. Men that were only half as good as me got that shot first because they knew somebody with some sway. Or because they were bigger than me. Or both.
“So by the time I got here, I realized I was sick of it. I’ve learned from history and I decided immediately that I wasn’t going to pander to these people who at the end of the day don’t really give two shits about me. And I’m not going to kiss corporate tail anymore just so I can have another fifteen minutes in the spotlight. I’m proud of what I’ve done in the ring. I know I deserve better than what I’ve gotten-- than what I’m getting now-- and I speak up about it.
“I speak up about it, and for that, the fans turn on me. They don’t like that I have the audacity to talk about President Jeff like the second-rate corporate suit that he is. I know how backstage politics work. I see right through Jeff and Diamond’s façade. They’re trying to keep me on Meltdown so I can bring them ratings. They won’t let me in Test for the Best because I’ll win, and I’ll get to leave Meltdown ASAP.
“And I refuse to be that guy again. I REFUSE to be the guy that saves the sinking ship. Maybe I want a fucking lifeboat.”
Mchelle opens her mouth to say something, but ultimately decides that she doesn’t even know what she would say, and closes it again.
”I’m not a modest guy. That doesn’t get you anywhere. For once in my life, I want the industry to do something for me. For Evan Envi. I want to be the guy heralded and praised for being ridiculously fantastic at everyting he does. I don’t wanna be the guy patted on the back for being a work horse… I want to be regarded as the best, worldwide. I can’t do that if I fall into the same hole I always fall into, being held back by selfish businessmen that want to squeeze every penny out of me until nobody cares about me anymore.
“It’s frustrating. This is my career and since I’ve started, my bosses have been playing chicken with it. I want something to change. I guess the fans don’t want what I want.”
After this tirade, Evan takes a deep breath and falls silent. Michelle had been waiting a few seconds for him to finish before she continues.
”Well then. What are you gonna do?”
What are you gonna do?
For years, Evan had been asked that question. Sometimes he had an answer, and sometimes not. Evan often found himself in a position with his back against the wall for one reason or another. And ”what are you gonna do?” was usually the closest thing to either support or advice he ever got.
”I’m gonna raise hell.”
”Mmmm, what if that doesn’t work?”
”It always works.”
”Cocky, much?”
”Confident. Extremely confident.”
”And you think that’ll get your fans back?”
”Couldn’t care less, really. They haven’t helped me up to this point.” Evan gives Michelle a warm gaze. ”I hope you’re still a fan though.”
”You’re alright. Carmen Rivera’s better.”
Michelle winks up at Evan, moving out of the way as he playfully throws a slow-motion fist toward her jaw. She instead angles her head to kiss his fist and allows herself to roll forward into his arms.
”I don’t think you’re gonna get stuck in that hole again.”
”I hope not.”
”You just have to stay positive.”
Positive. Evan Envi had been positive for a long time. For most of his life, really. And when he suddenly noticed that his glass was half-empty, he found some of his greatest success. To humor Michelle, Evan promised her that he would, and the two soon dropped the subject. There was tension in the room when Evan talked about the trials and tribulations that led him to this moment in his career, so he tried his best not to initiate those conversations… It was like therapy though. Michelle was always there to talk to. She was always eager to listen, and usually Evan was eager to talk.
Eventually the two had made their way back to the bedroom, another night in the books. While Michelle fell asleep at Evan’s side almost immediately, Evan stared up at the rotating ceiling fan, deep in thought. Horrible thoughts raced through his mind.
What if he was stuck in this infinite loop in his career and APW was no different? What if he had only won the North American Title as a part of some sick plan orchestrated by the most dastardly minds in the universe in an attempt to keep him away from the “big leagues”? There was no way he was going to let it happen again.
Even wasn’t sure what he was going to be able to do about it at 1:00 in the morning on a Sunday, but he was damn-sure he was never going to let it happen to him again.
Ever.
