[Chasmo]

“What’s that glimmer I see in your eye,” Katherine Wray, in the dulcet tone of her Nashville accent, asked Rachel Miras as the two women watched Nicole, Jules, Will and Sharon head off.

“Just make sure you have your cameras ready when Little Miss Muscles receives her trophy from me,” Rachel replied with a smile.

Katherine didn’t know what was to come but there was no way she was going to miss it.

In the meantime, having worked their way out of the cavernous hall where dinner was still being served, Mrs. Silver and her son and Sharon Miras and her boyfriend Will found themselves backstage getting ready for Nicole and Will’s big moments. Due to the steady stream of speakers, performers, and award recipients, no one had a formal dressing room per se. Rather, each was permitted to get ready in a small make-shift curtained room not unlike what you might see in a hospital ER. Each space contained a mirror, a small table, and a chair. Of course, having been directed to her prep area by the stage manager, the first thing Nicole Silver did was complain.

“Seriously,” her shrill voice added to the cacophony of backstage Bedlam, “you expect me, the Fitness Influencer of the Year, to make do with this . . . this . . . insult of a dressing room.”

“I’m very sorry Mrs. Silver,” came the young woman’s frustrated reply, “but that’s the best we can do.”

“Well – we’ll see what tune your singing when I have your job over this,” the supercilious diva ranted resigned to this being her fate for the night, “it’s completely unacceptable.”

“I’m really sorry about my mom,” Jules apologized to the stage manager, a young, awkward girl he knew from grade school, “she tends to overreact.”

“It’s fine,” came the girl’s reply, “she’s certainly no worse than Will Parnell over there.”

Ugh, thought Jules to himself, glancing at Sharon getting berated by Will through the opening in his curtained-off space, he and my mom are two are peas in a pod.

“Is everything okay over there,” the timid teen called out to Sharon.

“Oh . . . is that your nerd in shining armor,” came Will Parnell’s voice in response to Jules’ entreaty, “coming to save the day.”

“Stop it Will,” stormed Sharon, coming to Jules’ defense for the second time that evening, “it’s not nice to bully people.”

“Oh please, look at him, without a muscle on his body,” Will blustered, “let’s see him try to stop me.”

“It’s okay Sharon,” Jules meekly answered, “it doesn’t bother me.”

“What’s all the ruckus over here,” came Nicole’s authoritative voice as she came upon Jules and Sharon outside Will’s curtained off room, “are you two interfering with Will’s pre-pose-down prep.”

“It’s okay Nic,” came the arrogant voice of Will Parnell as, stepping out from his dressing room in naught but a black Speedo and a tan, he scowled at his own girlfriend and Jules while smiling lasciviously at Nicole.

“Sharon didn’t want to get her hands ‘dirty’ oiling me up,” he continued.

“Of course, she didn’t,” Nicole said in quick reply while looking at Sharon with disgust, “Jules is the same way when I compete – the babies.”

And then, as Mrs. Silver moved closer yet to the teen adonis, practically pulling off his well-stocked Speedo with her eyes, she offered excitedly to lend a hand.

“Why don’t we step into your dressing room Will,” she practically purred, “so I can get you all oiled up before you need to go on stage.”

And while Jules and Sharon, along with Rachel Miras and the stage manager who together had come over to see what was causing the commotion, looked on in disbelief, Nicole and Will disappeared behind the curtain which Mrs. Silver then drew tightly closed.

“I wish just once the two of them what get what they deserve,” a truly frustrated Jules Silver seethed.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Sharon imagined out loud, having had her fill both of Jules’ mom and Will.

“It sure would,” Rachel smiled less the Cheshire Cat, “and I know just the way to do it.”

“So do I,” came the eager voice of the stage manager to the surprise of everyone, “so do I.”

As Nicole eagerly oiled up Will in his dressing room, Rachel, Sharon, Jules and the stage manager went to work. The latter, who had been tasked with arranging the area within which Will was going to do his onstage pose down, handed to Jules a mop and a bottle of the very baby oil that Mrs. Silver was now applying to Will’s chiseled physique.

“If you mop down that area on stage that I showed you with the oil,” she directed young Jules with a smile, “old muscles in there will look like he is on a slip and slide – it will be hilarious.”

In the meantime, Rachel was sharing her idea with Sharon.

“I’m sure once I introduce Miss Perfect and hand her the trophy,” Rachel began, “she’ll begin going on and on about how hard she works, and how she just loves to inspire people to fitness and how she loves her fans. She won’t for a moment thank me or look to see where I’m standing or what I’m doing. If I can then just get a foot on the train of her ridiculous gown who knows what might happen.”

“I love it mom,” Sharon smiled, “even if she is momentarily stuck there unable to give Will his trophy I’m sure she’ll be embarrassed -- it will be so worth it.”

As the four conspirators set their plans into action, Nicole was finishing up with Will.

“Let me just get those abs one more time,” she smiled coyly bringing a blush to the young stud’s face. “We want to make sure that the the oil goes past the point where your Speedo hits your finely toned stomach.”

And with that, the 49-year-old Mrs. Silver pulled back the waist of Will’s tiny bathing suit and pushed her hand ever closer to what she knew must be his massive equipment.

“It’s time you two,” came the stage manager’s call causing Nicole to keep her hands to herself and Will to breathe a sigh of relief that she had gone no further.

“Alright handsome,” Nicole smiled at the young, arrogant stud, “I’ll see you on stage – let’s make sure to give them quite a show.”

As the two egoists made their separate ways to their entry points, each more arrogant than ever, they had no idea how prophetic Nicole’s words would be.