THURSDAY 11TH OCTOBER 2007
“Well, you brought me here, Raul. So there must be a reason to it, as we hardly ever go out anymore,” said Angela.
Angela was wearing a beautiful long blue dress, showing ample cleavage and matching blue heeled shoes. Her long red hair had been made wavy for the occasion, and she was wasting no time in twirling strands of hair around her right index finger, in a seductive fashion so that El Diablo would lower his guard and be more honest with her than he usually is.
“It’s just a date, dear. I thought we deserved a night out,” he responded.
The Mexican Devil was dressed much different than usual, as he was wearing a white silk shirt, neat black pants and polished black shoes, as well as the suave black jacket that was over the back of his chair.
“Okay, but if I find out there is a hidden agenda then I’m leaving,” Angela stated.
Sighing, El Diablo looked across into his wife’s blue eyes and pondered what he could say to her.
“So how is the lobster?” he asked her.
The lobster on her plate hadn’t been touched yet, as Angela knew that when her husband spends a lot of money, there’s usually something he wants.
“I’m sure it’ll be good,” she responded politely.
Adjusting the collar of his shirt, El Diablo was evidently uncomfortable in this social situation. Being in a five star restaurant was not something he had been accustomed to, and having to dress up smartly with his long black hair slicked back, certainly left him ill at ease.
“Why did I bring her here? I hate these social interactions. I hate it when people observe me. But I do need her on my side, I really….” he thought to himself.
“How can we afford this?” Angela asked him, interrupting his thought process.
Blinking, to alert himself, The Mexican Devil looked at his wife and smiled.
“Being in The Affliction brings lots of perks,” he grinned.
Again, Angela smiled politely. The Creator of Controversy, meanwhile was scanning the room, looking at the twenty or so other tables that were all in use by the rich snob type, which was ironically the kind of elitist restaurant he had picked. The tables were circular, covered in a white cloth, with candles in the middle to set the mood, along with the dimmed lighting of the dining room. There was a large window area, which was there to tell the public walking the streets outside, that they’re not good enough. The only thing wrong with the restaurant was that there was no bar.
“I knew we’d end up talking about wrestling,” Angela remarked.
Shaking his head for a moment, El Diablo smirked.
“What do you expect? I’m a wrestler, it comes with the territory,” he replied.
Finally taking a bite out of the lobster, Angela stared at her husband.
“It’s not just business to me, it’s my life. And I did bring you here to apologise for interfering in your relationship with Marie. It was wrong of me,” stated El Diablo.
Placing the lobster back down on the plate, Angela’s expression changed to one of curiosity.
“I appreciate that, but I still think you have an agenda,” said Angela, suspiciously.
“Not at all. I just don’t think you should get so close to her, because Cruise might try to harm you,”
Angela looked shocked.
“Why would he try to harm me? I haven’t done anything to him. I haven’t even spoken with him,” she said, a little bit frightened.
Picking up the glass of red wine in front of him, he swallowed all of it, and carefully placed the glass back down.
“Because of what I did to him last week. He’s become a madman and may try to hurt you, to get to me. And I’d never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you,” Diablo said, sincerely.
Looking concerned for a moment, Angela just shrugged off his comments.
“I think I’ll be fine. He doesn’t appear to be the kind of guy that would hit a woman,”
The Mexican Devil literally cringed in frustration.
“Perhaps when he is sane, but right now he’s a loose cannon. I’m actually fearful of what he might do to Marie,” he warned her.
Despite trying his best to separate his wife and Marie, Angela just wouldn’t relent.
“Well, if you look out for me, then it shouldn’t be a problem. Should it?” she asked him.
Shaking his head, El Diablo finally picked up his fork and stabbed it down onto the baked potato on his plate.
“I’m growing tired of this, I can’t have Angela being Marie’s friend, not when I know what’s going to happen,” Diablo thought.
The tension at the table was finally broken when a smartly dressed waiter approached the table.
“More wine, sir?” he asked in his pompous tone.
The Mexican Devil simply nodded.
“Very well, sir,”
The 5’9, 180lb man then strutted away from the table.
“So if you don’t mind, I’ll be at Uproar this week,” Angela proclaimed.
“Does it really matter if I mind? You’re going to be there anyway, regardless of what I think. You’d better not get in the way though,” Diablo thought to himself.
Cutting into the baked potato with the silver knife, El Diablo smiled insincerely at Angela, indicating his frustration at not being able to manipulate his wife.
“I don’t mind at all,” he lied.
The overbearing politeness of the two was growing tiresome to both of them.
“Look, just let me know what you really want, Raul. I know you, and I know you’re never this kind unless you need something. So what do you want? What do you need?” she demanded to know, as she broke off the niceties of the situation.
Chewing with his mouth wide open, El Diablo had grabbed the attention of just about everyone in the restaurant with his social faux pas.
“I need you to avoid Marie. Unless you’re on my side, I can’t have you anywhere near her. You know what will happen, and I can’t have you stopping that or getting in the way of that. But if you still want to be a part of my plan, then spend time with her, just don’t grow attached to Marie though,” Diablo said honestly.
Grimacing, Angela stood up, only to be grabbed by the arm by her husband.
“Don’t go, just hear me out,” stated The Mexican.
“Fine,”
Releasing his grip on her, Angela was true to her word and sat down.
“You’ve been my wife for nine years, and you’ve known Marie all of two weeks. I expect your loyalty to be to me,” scoffed The Master of Manipulation.
Sighing loudly, it took Angela all of her strength not to make a scene and slap the taste right out of her husband’s mouth.
“It’ll be nine years on Friday, Raul, but I guess you forgot about that with your master plan and all,” she sneered right back at him.
The Creator of Controversy looked vacant. He had forgotten.
“I knew it,” she furiously stated.
Clasping his hands to his face, El Diablo could not believe the turn of events.
“So you forget our anniversary, and expect me to help you out with your ridiculous plan in FUSE? That is just wrong, Raul, very wrong. Marie doesn’t deserve what you’re going to do, and Jason didn’t deserve what you did last week. You need to straighten out your priorities Raul,” she angrily whispered to him, in an attempt to not garner the attention of the other diners.
Before The Mexican Devil could respond, the waiter arrived with a new bottle of red wine, and placed it down on the table.
“The cheapest wine on the menu, sir,” stated the waiter.
Already angered by Angela’s reluctance to be loyal to him, the waiter had just infuriated him further.
“Did I order the cheapest wine?” asked Diablo, in a clearly incensed tone of voice.
The waiter remained standing by the table, looking down on El Diablo and Angela, both literally and figuratively.
“You do not appear to be the kind of people that really appreciate a fine wine,” the waiter snootily stated.
These remarks had now annoyed the usually mild mannered, Angela.
“Excuse me, but who do you think you are?” she barked at him.
Appearing stoic, the waiter didn’t flinch at her words.
“I am simply stating what I am seeing before me, madam,” he said, rudely.
Smirking a devilish smile, El Diablo looked up at the penguin suited waiter.
“Don’t be expecting a good tip from us, Jeeves,”
The waiter, in kind, smiled cockily as he turned to leave the table.
“It’s Tobias and I wasn’t expecting one from you people,” Tobias sneered.
The Mexican Devil wanted very badly to get up and beat some respect into that waiter, but Angela, conscious of making a scene, stopped him, by holding his hand.
“Forget about him. We’re here, on a date, that’s all that matters and about your plan, I’ll stick to it ” she calmed him down, by telling him what he wanted to hear.
Hearing this news had calmed him down and made him happy, as in his mind, he had manipulated her into his way of thinking. Although in reality, Angela desperately did not want to make a scene, like her husband had done, so many times before. She had only agreed to his plan so that he wouldn’t spoil their evening, even though she had no real intention of keeping to her word.
“That’s great news,” he remarked.
Slowly cutting a piece of chicken breast, El Diablo got distracted by a familiar sound.
“What are you doing, Raul,” stated the voice.
The Creator of Controversy looked around, and much to his surprise and horror could see his dead brother, Jorge’s face on every single person in the dining area, except for Angela. The faces ranged from one Jorge winking at him, to another sticking a tongue out and yet another pulling funny faces.
“Is something wrong?” asked, the concerned, Angela.
Closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples with his index finger and thumb, El Diablo was clearly worrying his wife.
“Are you okay?” she asked once more.
Opening his eyes, El Diablo looked around and to his relief, could no longer see Jorge.
“I’m fine. I just have a little bit of a headache,” he lied to her.
The relationship between Angela and El Diablo was quite strange, as Angela was reluctant to trust her husband but loved him very much and cared for him earnestly. She loves and cares for him so much, that the kind of episode he just had, truly worries her, whenever they happen to occur.
“Are you sure?” Angela asked, with concern.
The Mexican Devil just nodded, knowing full well that Jorge wouldn’t be gone for long.
“I need the restroom, so I’ll be right back,” Angela informed him.
Giving her a casual smile, as she stood up and headed to the restroom, El Diablo looked around the restaurant once more. Again, there was no sign of Jorge, until he looked back where Angela was seated, but instead he could see Jorge sitting there.
“What do you want, Jorge?” he whispered, as he tried to not draw attention to himself.
Grinning, Jorge was the same eighteen year old man that he was on the day of his passing, only now he was wearing different clothing. He was wearing an Affliction t-shirt and black jeans.
“I’m just watching you,” stated Jorge.
Confused, The Mexican Devil tried hard to contain his frustration at the frequent visits from his late sibling.
“Watching for what? You can’t be a guardian angel, as all you’re succeeding in doing is pissing me off,” Diablo muttered.
Resting his feet on the table, Jorge seemed very relaxed, which was in stark contrast of the agitated mood that El Diablo was in.
“I’m watching, because you’re a bad person, Raul. You need to change, and I’m here to make sure that you do change,” Jorge told him, very seriously.
Stressed, The Master of Manipulation ran his hands over his now dry, slicked back, black hair.
“Like I told Marie, I’m only playing a character, Raul Diaz is a lot different that El Diablo,” he responded.
Sitting up, Jorge leaned in close to his brother.
“You just named yourself in the third person narrative, but which one was true, Raul Diaz or El Diablo?” asked Jorge.
Still trying to contain his stress, El Diablo continued to whisper, trying not to look crazy in front of all the rich diners.
“What are you talking about? I’m real, and you’re not, so who are you to question me?” Diablo demanded to know.
“I’m your brother, and I cannot stand to see what you’ve done to yourself. You’re no longer the kind, caring, fun loving little brother I knew. You’re not Raul Diaz. You’re callous, malicious, vindictive and evil. You are El Diablo. You’ve become your character, you’ve forgotten everything that you were,” Jorge told him how he felt.
“He died the same day that you did. Life was different from then on, and I got by on my own. You weren’t there, so what would you know? Mom and Dad treated me like I should have been dead, so I acted like it,” Diablo raised his vice, drawing some attention from fellow diners.
Jorge then stood up and walked to the side of the seated Mexican Devil.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It was nineteen years ago. Look at what you’re doing now, you set a mans face on fire and you’re stalking his girlfriend, and for what? All because he destroyed our family heirloom and defeated you for a title? That is no reason at all to ruin his life. The Raul that I know would shake his hand for being the better man, and leave it at that. But, no, you’ve become obsessed about it, like you have done about everything the past nineteen years. You’re a horrible human being El Diablo,” Jorge vented at him.
Instead of looking ashamed, like Jorge had expected to him, The Master of Manipulation smiled widely like a Cheshire cat.
“You didn’t call me Raul. I guess that means you’re going to leave me alone now, Jorge?” he stated excitedly.
The standing Jorge, shook his head, drawing the wrath of his brother.
“WHY WON’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?” shrieked El Diablo.
The entire restaurant was now watching the scene that El Diablo had created, as fellow diners had stopped eating and were watching him like it was a free dinner and show for them to enjoy.
“WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT?” he shouted at them all.
The Creator of Controversy was too angry to care about all the prying eyes studying him though, and focused back on Jorge.
“They’re looking at a mentally scarred and unstable man, making a fool of himself,” Jorge informed his brother.
“JUST GO! I DON’T NEED TO CHANGE!” El Diablo screamed.
Standing up, The Mexican Devil flipped the table over in a burst of rage and slammed his chair down on top of it as well.
“You do need to change, brother and you will. That’s why I’m here and the next time you see me, you’ll be in for a big surprise,” Jorge calmly stated.
With that said, Jorge was no longer visible to his brother, who in his fury had even smashed Angela’s chair down onto the table.
“I hate surprises,” he muttered.
Suddenly, Angela came out from the restroom to see her husband standing over the smashed up table and chairs and knew all too well that he had created a scene. El Diablo hadn’t seen her though as he pulled out his wallet and threw down some money on the upturned table, to pay for the food and damages.
“What happened?” asked Angela.
Turning around to notice his wife, El Diablo was unprepared to answer her, and just picked up his jacket that was on the ground and placed it around Angela’s shoulders.
“Come on, we’re leaving,” he told her.
Wanting to leave the scene of another disaster that her husband had caused, she went along with him as they exited the restaurant.
“I knew they weren’t the type of people to appreciate fine dining,” said the pompous waiter as he walked towards the upturned table.
Picking up the money and counting it, he grinned a cocky smile.
“He’s a better tipper than he said he would be though,”