“To be honest, Nettie, I didn’t even know who he was until my cousin told me today. Then she pulled videos and photos up of him on the internet.”

Xavier chuckles, drawing my attention to him. “You really had no clue who I was, did you?”

I shrug. “Hate to disappoint you, but not everyone’s a wrestling fan.”

“Maybe you’d like it if you gave it a chance.” Xavier glances up at Nettie after checking his watch. “Tension will be on in a few minutes. Let’s turn it on and make my girl a fan.”

“You got it, sugar.” Nettie makes her way over to the counter and grabs the remote for the television hanging on the wall, changing it to a different channel.

After the commercial break, a hard rock intro blares through the speakers as the words Tuesday Tension flash across the screen, followed by clips of wrestlers beating the crap out of each other. When Xavier’s face appears in the montage, I’m mesmerized by the cocky grin on his face before he tackles another man down onto the blue mat, using enough force to make me flinch at the thought of physical pain.

“That was one of my favorite matches.”

Xavier’s words draw my attention back to him.

“Do you ever get hurt?” I quiz, wondering how someone can subject their body to so much and be able to walk away without a scratch.

The corner of his mouth lifts up into the same cocky grin I saw moments before on the screen. “You worried about me?”

“More like curious…and worried too, I guess,” I admit. “I don’t like to see people in physical pain.”

He shrugs. “I can’t say that I’ve never been hurt, but I’m damn good at my job—as are most of the guys on the show. We wouldn’t be there if we didn’t know what we’re doing. The goal is to never really hurt one another, but to put on a good show. Give people their money’s worth.”

“So none of it is real?” I ask as the show plays on in the background.

“The show has writers. Every storyline is well thought out. Sometimes they get inspiration from things actually happening in our lives, but the pain—when we do actually get hit—hurts like a motherfucker. The guys who make it in the business know it’s mind over matter. The key is to turn off the part of your brain that experiences pain—to shut everything out. Being able to do that is going to make me the champ one day. My body can take punishment,” he explains.

“Is that a goal of yours? To be the champion?” I ask, trying to figure out what makes him tick.

He nods toward the television. “That’s the goal of every man on the show. It’s the ultimate prize, and people will do whatever it takes to get it.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds pretty cutthroat.”

“Believe me, beautiful, my job isn’t all rainbows and fucking sunshine. I’ve got to watch my back constantly. A lot of the guys are pissed I’ve climbed to the top so fast. They don’t think I’ve earned a shot yet, even though our boss believes I have.”

I stare into his eyes. “Have you earned it?”

His gaze drops down to the table as he says, “I’ve been through some shit in my life. Nothing I’ve ever achieved has come easy. I’ve fought for everything I’ve ever gotten, including working my way to the top of Tension. There’s no one more dedicated to the job than me. So, yeah, I’ve earned it.”

I open my mouth to dig a little deeper because I’m so curious about him, but quickly shut it. So many questions race through my mind—like what kind of shit has he been through?—but I’ve only known the man a few hours, and I don’t want to come off sounding like a nosy pest. But the curiosity burns through me like a pesky itch begging to be scratched.

Before I go against my better judgment and pry anyway, a voice on the television calls out Xavier’s wrestling name loud enough to jerk my attention back to the show. The man with broad shoulders and rippled muscles shoves his dark hair back off his face and points his black eyes directly into the camera.

“Phenomenal X, how convenient you choose now to take a personal vacation. What a load of crap. Such lies you tell all these fans who support you!”

The crowd boos the man, but it doesn’t stop him. “Why don’t you tell them all the truth, X? Tell them all that you’re too afraid to face me again after you cheated your way to a win last Tuesday. We both know who the better man is. Why don’t you tell them all how much pain I caused you? No, you’re too ashamed to let the world see how jacked-up your face is thanks to me. I want a rematch!”

I glance over at Xavier, who is focused intently on the screen. His hands ball into fists as they rest on the table in front of him. Whoever this man is, he certainly seems to be getting to him. If all this was so fake and scripted, why is he getting so angry?

The man on the show leans his elbows on the red ropes casually, like he’s completely comfortable being a jerk on national television, and holds the microphone up to his lips. “Whatever your reason for running, X, know that I’ll be right here when you get back—ready to kick your ass all over the place.”

Music blasts again as the man drops the mic into the ring and smirks as the camera zooms in on his face.

That guy gives me the creeps. “Who is that?”

Xavier’s nostrils flare a bit, like the mere thought of this man disgusts him somehow. “That’s Rex ‘The Assassin’ Risen. He’s the other guy the boss is looking at as a contender for the belt.”