Post by Roxy Cotton on Jun 1, 2019 20:33:03 GMT -5
I GET NO JOY
2002 - Vancouver, British Columbia
“You don’t take things from your sister, Racquel.”
Her mother was a mess, as usual. Nothing new. The only difference between this half-in-the-bag showing from Mommy Dearest and all the others from Racquel’s childhood was that Racquel had started being fully aware of her mother’s inebriated state some time ago. When she was still a young girl, like Dani, it was much easier to just think this is how adults were supposed to be. They drank screwdrivers with breakfast. They had to empty ashtrays before lunch because they’d already been filled with the bent corpses of twenty murdered cigarettes.
“I didn’t.”
And she hadn’t. Dani just let it seem that way. Their mother poured another glass of vodka out of the plastic Stolichnaya bottle, twisting the cheap red cap back onto it and setting aside while lighting a new smoke off the dying ember still dangling from between her lips. Each butt in the little clay ashtray in front of her stuck straight up like a gravestone, the ends smeared with dark red lipstick like a kiss goodbye. The ashtray had long ago given up its role as a surprise gift from Racquel to her mother after spending a week molding it in first grade. Now, it was just another dirty dish full of ash.
Dani, for her part, was relishing getting her older sister in trouble. It was so easy for her to get all the good will and affection from their mother. She had always been more willing to let her do her hair, dress her up, put her on display like a china doll for the public. Dani was Mandy Couton’s little pageant princess in the making. She’d already won in local malls and gotten a spot secured for Little Miss Vancouver later in the year. Racquel had never wanted any of that, preferring a tomboy lifestyle, and her mother had never fully forgiven her for rebuffing pretty clothes and makeup for climbing trees and digging holes in the yard. So, naturally, when Dani discovered she could get preferential treatment just by letting their mother play with her like some sort of living doll, she threw herself into the role.
“Thanks a lot, Dani. God, you’re such a pest.”
The girl grinned at her older sister, a gap in her lower teeth where one had recently fallen out. Racquel sneered and pointed out the imperfection with a snarl in her voice.
“You’re never going to win some pageant with your teeth looking like that. Who wants a beauty queen who can’t smile?”
That shut her up. Dani’s lips slammed together and turned upside down, quivering. The waterworks were on their way, Racquel knew, and with them would come a strong, angry response from their mom. They both knew that Dani would always win these little power struggles, but Racquel could never seem to keep her mouth shut when it would suit her.
“Racquel!”
Right on schedule. Dani’s tears ran down both of her plump red cheeks like tributaries from the same river, moving in unison. Racquel’s mother slammed the empty glass down on the tabletop and speed-walked to where the girls sat in front of the television set, scooping the sobbing Dani up into her arms.
“You don’t say things like that to your little sister, Racquel! What is wrong with you? Don’t you see how much she looks up to you? How much she adores you? Why would you want to hurt someone who loved you liked that? I swear…”
Mandy carried her youngest away, the little cherub’s face now smiling at Racquel over their mother’s shoulder, wiping away the tears. Although the sentiment was dripping with irony - I don’t know, mother, why would you hurt someone who loved you? - Racquel knew at least it was partially true. Dani did adore Racquel. She followed her everywhere. Tried to do everything she did. On more than one occasion Racquel had been admonished for allowing Dani to play her tomboy games and get her knees skinned or nails broken.
Racquel looked down at the floor, letting her eyes rest on the toy that had started their little kerfluffle in the first place. A Barbie doll. Racquel held it in her hands and turned it over and over, looking at its artificially tanned plastic skin, its inhuman proportions, and its unnaturally blonde hair. It was Dani’s toy, of course. Racquel had no interest in them. In fact, the irony was not lost on Racquel that the way Dani treated her dolls was almost identical to the way their mother treated Dani herself. So when Dani dropped it into Racquel’s lap and yelled that she had snatched it away, Racquel had tossed it onto the floor and rolled her eyes at the little girl.
“I don’t want your stupid doll. Why would I want this dumb, fake thing? That’s for you, it isn’t for me. It’s not who I ever want to be.”
2019 - Malibu, California
In front of her mirror, Roxy Cotton sits and draws the perfect wing onto the edge of her eyelid. She blinks, leaning back, and turning her head to see that it was identical to the eye on the opposite side. Satisfied, she smiles and sets the applicator down next do a dozen other little bottles and brushes, a grown woman’s chemistry set.
“Looking good, babe! You almost ready to hit the town? I’ve got some seriously hot reservations for dinner… we can spare a few minutes out front for the paps if you wanna bring that belt, too. You let TMZ know we were going, right dude?”
“Of course.”
“Awesome. I’ll get Sam to pull the car around, we can go in style tonight, babydoll. Meet you downstairs! Love you!”
“You too, bb.”
Vinnie Lane’s reflection vanishes from the looking glass, leaving only Roxy’s face once more. She turns her head and sees her current favorite thing in the whole world, the UGWC Cross-Semicircle Championship title belt. Next to it, a glossy photo stuck into the corner of the mirror, jammed between the glass itself and carved wooden inlay. It shows Roxy and her best friends, the #CoolKids, all posing with their various championships. Roxy and Angie Vaughn flanked the married lovers Kenzi and Sarah Lacklan, and although the four of them wore gleaming smiles that matched the vibrance and intensity of the gold all of them carried, Roxy found it suddenly very fitting that she and Angie were so far away from one another.
Roxy looks from her face in the mirror to her face in the photo, and though no one would be able to tell the difference between them, Roxy could. She could feel the tension from the day they all posed for the snapshot. The way she and Angie had avoided talking amongst themselves, opting instead to listen to Sarah drone on (and on, and on, and ON) about how great things were going for her, how much she and Kenzi were banging (a lot) and just how great things were in general. Angie and Roxy had listened, nodded when needed, and smiled at all the right times. But, Roxy knew, neither of them wanted to be in the same room that night.
Roxy scoops up her Championship, pauses, and pulls the photo out from its setting on the mirror. She looks at them both, moving back and forth between the two, as if trying to make a decision.
“I didn’t want this, Angie. I get no joy from it whatsoever. You know that. You’ve always known it.”
Roxy’s voice is a tremble of a whisper. She turns her attention fully to the smiling face of Angie Vaughn in her shaking hand, running the very tip of her manicured thumb over the circle of gold on Angie’s shoulder.
“You know it isn’t about not wanting that title belt you have. I’d be stupid not to want it. It’s been my ultimate goal since the moment I signed on the dotted line of my UGWC contract, something I always thought we were doing together, as a team. There haven’t been many moments in my life that were happier than getting to the finals of that trios tournament back in 2018 with you. Or, for that matter, a bit later when we got to be Cooperative Champions together. Everything was you and me. We were inseparable. Joined at the hip. Your success was mine, and vice versa. No one talked about the #CoolKids as separate entities. We were in it as one. Whether it was Sarah and Kenzi, you and me, or some other, different combination… we were here as a unit and we shared an unbreakable bond. I thought we still did, honestly. Even when you and that gross goblin of a man Dave Rydell struck out on your little tag team adventure together… why do you think I wanted to take this title from him so badly Angie? I needed you to see. I needed you to remember who your REAL partner was. Your REAL friend. How could I call myself your BFF and let you waste your time and energy on that dirty goat-faced vagrant? You needed a reminder of who was BETTER, and I think I proved my point extremely well.”
Roxy stands from her chair and walks slowly across her bedroom. With the photo still in her hand and the title on her shoulder, she nears a dresser where what looks like nearly a whole minibar’s worth of bottles sits.
“But you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? Even when we posed for this photo, things were.... off. They should’ve been perfect. We had our prizes. We had each other. You and me, we knew we were the best in the company. We’d proved it together, and then we proved it separately. I could’ve challenged you any time. I could have demanded a chance at your UGWC Title after Infinity. I could’ve announced one for Trios instead of winning the tournament with Kenzi by my side, where you were supposed to be. I could’ve insisted on a shot at Seven Deadly Sins, instead I tried to prove to you how important we were to each other by getting Dave out of your orbit… but I didn’t. I didn’t because it’s YOU, Angie, and I would never, ever take anything away from you. And you would never take anything away from me. I thought.”
She stops. Setting the photo on top of the dresser she runs her fingers along a pair of scissors set next to it. But, she turns away, focusing instead on the belt on her shoulder, caressing it like a small child.
“You demanded a chance to take this away from me Angie. The biggest accomplishment of my entire career. Instead of standing next to me like you did in 2018, you chose to stand across from me. Why? Why would you do that to me? Why would you try to take my prize? Why would you choose to be my opponent instead of partner? What did I ever do to you, Angie? What did I ever do to you?”
She doesn’t cry. She won’t allow a tear to fall. Not after that much time in front of the makeup mirror with cameras waiting in Hollywood.
“I can’t let you have it. This belongs to me. I got it alone, without help from you or Kenzi or Sarah. I did it myself, and I deserve it. I earned it. This MINE, now. You don’t take things from your sister.”
She pauses, then screeches with balled fists, rage clouding her green irises.
“YOU DON’T TAKE THINGS FROM YOUR SISTER, DANI!”
She gasps a breath, her eyes clearing again.
“I meant Angie. Obvs.”
Roxy straightens the wrinkles from her dress and leaves the room. On the dresser, next to the photo and the bottles, is an empty glass. Across its rim are two half moons of bright red.
Like a kiss goodbye.
~THE END~