Chapter Eight

                                    

                                          
          "Excuse me?" He didn't just invite himself, did he? That wasn't polite. The way I was raised, you didn't do things like that. If you were invited to someone's house, you would go. If they asked you to stay, you would. If they didn't, you wouldn't. It was just a common courtesy that I thought everyone learned.
                          
          "You heard me. You just scared the daylights out of us both and there's no way I'm leaving you alone when you were unresponsive less than an hour ago. If I did, I'm pretty sure Dana would suspend me from my contract."
                          
          A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips. "Did you miss the last five minutes? Dana, my best friend, just walked out on me. In my book, that gives you a free pass. You can walk out those doors just as easily as he can and I'll be here, trying to find another job."
                          
          All of the amusement on his face quickly disappeared. "Why do you need another job?"
                          
          "In Dana language, what he said is the equivalent to being fired. He blames himself for what happened and always has. I've tried to explain to him that it's not but he won't listen. Today was his breaking point and that little lecture was his way of saying that he's done. He's gonna cut me off from the UFC and there's nothing I can do about it."
                          
          As if in deep thought, Brock went silent. He remained this way for a minute or two before he looked up, meeting my gaze. "I'll make you a deal. If you let me stay here tonight, just to ease my mind, I'll make sure you keep your job."
                          
          His tone made me believe him but I was still curious. "Why do you care? Ever since we met, you've bent over backward to keep me around and although I have ideas, I'd like for you to tell me why."
                          
          He sighs and sits across from me on the couch. "I know what you think and believe me when I say that you are very wrong. I'm single and close to hitting forty. Any chances I had of settling down were thrown out the window a long time ago." I was probably blushing but I was too caught up in the conversation to care. "When we first met and you started talking, I knew I'd sign that contract before you ever finished your first sentence. Even if you never told me about Cain, I would've still signed."
                          
         "And why is that?"
                          
          He paused. "Because you remind me of the younger me. You aren't afraid to get what you want and you're willing to do whatever it takes to get it. That last part is why I have three restraining orders to my name. It's why my ex-fiancé is my ex and why I haven't seen my kids since they were two. I knew if I didn't help you, you'd find someone else and that could get ugly fast. A lot of these fighters can't be trusted, they take advantage of women like you. Cain, being one of them."
                          
          I sat there, listening to his story for what seemed like forever. I was completely engrossed in his life story and wanted to know more every time he added a new piece to the puzzle. I knew there was more to him than just his public reputation. He was  a beast, in his younger days. He turned to alcohol and drugs to deal with the stress of carrying the WWE at such a young age. At his lowest point, he lost his fiancé and twins because of his addiction, and that was when young Brock grew up.
                          
          "You're just a big ol' storybook, aren't you?"
                          
          He chuckles. "I have a lot of experience with life, I had to grow up the hard way. But it worked, I'm still here and I'm doing my one good deed in the world. I'm gonna keep you from making a big mistake. We're gonna go to UFC 205 and we're gonna show Cain, legally, whose boss. I'm gonna make him suffer and when I'm done, you'll be free of him for good and you won't end up like me." 
                          
          "All of that sounds lovely but I don't know if we  are going anywhere. I told you, Dana's not going to let me come back. I don't have credentials with the UFC anymore, which means, I can't be a part of your training."
                          
          Brock smiled and shook his head. "I told you that if you let me stay the night, I'd make sure that you kept your job. And judging by the fact that it's almost midnight and you haven't kicked me out yet, I'd say you agreed."
                          
         That part was true, although, I hadn't noticed the time. I was too busy listening to his life story to pay attention. "Maybe but you never told me how you were going to do it."
                          
          "Easy. Starting tomorrow morning, you're on my payroll. Kate Dawson, you are now officially one of Brock Lesnar's personal trainers, or at least that's your title. You'll do everything you were doing before, nothing will change. If you're working for me, Dana can't do anything about it. It would be like him taking me to court to fire my farmhand... It doesn't make any sense."
                          
          I had to admit, that was pretty smart. "But once my name is removed from payroll, I lose my insurance and all my benefits. I have to find another job for that reason."
                          
          He smiles. "Did you really think that I didn't think of that? Your insurance will be covered; my lawyer will take care of it tomorrow. You'll have vacation days and whatever else you had with Dana, I'll match it one-hundred percent."
                          
          This guy was unbelievable. Why couldn't I have met him before Cain? If I had, I would have never gotten involved with that moron. "Well, Mr. Lesnar, you have a deal."