Post by cooltubesource on Nov 30, 2019 12:48:34 GMT -5
KENZI COMES HOME
I replayed the moment I arrived home over and over inside my head. It had been the longest three weeks of my married life, outside the time of Sarah’s injury. I had been over in Asia seeking ‘The Lost Tome of Tom Cruise’ for my return to Scientology…only, that wasn’t the purpose for the trip at all. I had gone to the other side of the world to do everything I could to make sure I would be able to stand by my wife’s side…
~~Tuesday Morning~~
Sarah lets out a long sigh as she adjusts on her stool. Having flown out of Chicago and home to Hollywood directly after her match the night before, she was tired and lagged, but determined. Things between her and Kenzi had been rough for weeks, even before her wife had left for her Scientology project, and she was determined to be there when Kenzi returned home. Even if she did not know when that was. Things were somewhat less than clear.
After taking a moment to lift her glasses and rub her eyes, she turns her attention back to the canvas before her. Kenzi’s half-formed face stared back at her, the dark eyes seeming to cast judgement. She had drawn or painted Kenzi’s face many times in the past few weeks...she had lost count after 50...with many of the various versions of her scattered around their living room haphazardly, but she always started with the eyes. They were the first thing that had drawn her to the caramel starlet three years ago, and they held her still. They possessed ferocity, and depth, and joy, and anger, and life, and love. For all of the silly crassness of their talks about “favorite” body parts, Kenzi’s eyes were hers.
“Front Door”
Sarah doesn’t move as she hears the house alarm tell her of the door opening. Installed after a neighbor’s house was ‘accidentally’ burnt down by a stalker looking for them, the alarm alerted to any door or window that was opened. Her Step-Mumsie, ‘Ava’ in her head but ‘Bordy’ to most, had left earlier in the day on some excursion. Probably needed to buy more tiny French flags to cover up MORE pictures she found. It grated on Sarah that Ava disapproved of ANY feminine curves showing, and was NOT happy to find out that, while she was away for UGWC, Ava had covered up every bit of Grey-Lacklan cleavage, hips, midriff, or rear end in ALL of their pictures in the house. Literally ALL of them. Literally with tiny French flags! She-
“Who dis?”
Sarah freezes at the voice, her hand suddenly trembling, sending tiny droplets of black paint down onto the picture. Part of her mind wants to laugh at how silly Kenzi’s portrait looks with twice the amount of freckles she should have...she would have to name THOSE now, too...but the rest of her mind hold tight to that voice behind her. That was no French accent. That was a Californian accent, at least by way of Seattle, with a level of husk to it which immediately made her mouth water. She slowly sets down the brush onto the edge of the easel and turns on her stool, almost afraid to have her eyes show her that her ears lied. But they didn't.
Kenzi Grey-Lacklan stands in the door frame, a pile of luggage behind her, her multitude of microbraids spilling around her shoulders and down her back. A beat of dense silence stretches between them, pregnant with the awkward worry of their recent, and very public, issues.
“...oh, thank God…”
Sarah’s eyes moisten as she leaps from the stool and runs at Kenzi. Kenzi’s eyes widen a bit in surprise, or perhaps worry, but Sarah catches her in a bearhug and squeezes for all her might. Kenzi coughs in pain at the sudden embrace, and can’t help but chuckle at the grip of her wife. After a few moments, Kenzi gently begins to separate them, but Sarah squeezes harder.
“Not yet. Please. As soon as we let go...we have to talk...so not yet, please.”
After a moment, Kenzi nods and squeezes back just as hard. The two embrace, both trembling slightly, caught in the difficulty of their troubles. A moment of respite from Sarah’s anger being so strong as to keep them away. Respite from Sarah's hatred of Angie. Respite from Sarah’s reprehensible change on how she viewed Roxy Cotton. Respite from their pain and separation.
She pulls Kenzi away from the door and notices, for the first time, a set of crutches leaning against the wall.
“Beloved? What happened?”
What had happened…indeed. There had been no book to search for, I had left the country with a singular purpose, to undergo an experimental treatment for my knee injury that wasn’t available in the States. Not only was it not offered, but it was certainly one that my wife would frown on…and possibly divorce me over once she got the full story. Of course, we would have to ease our way into that.
I watched the hurt in her eyes as I came clean about everything…
“I lied…”
“…what…what are you saying…”
“I wasn’t searching for a book…I was getting treatment for my knee injury, one that I couldn’t have here in the states.”
The confusion that fell across Sarah’s face was one that haunted and frightened me. In recent weeks I had seen that look whenever someone brought up Angie Vaughn. I knew this was coming, but all I could do was push through it and try to make her understand.
“If…if I had told you how bad it was…”
“THIS IS ALL HER FAULT! COTTON! THAT FUCKING BITCH! HOW MUCH MORE WILL WE ALLOW TO BE STOLEN FROM US BELOVED?!”
All I could do was stand there in the face of her righteous fury against my Clear Sister. True, the injury had been caused at WrestleStock, more or less because of Roxy, but it had been more complicated than all that.
“It was an accident…and Roxy wasn’t the one that caused it.”
“Why do you always ALWAYS cover for her?! No, she might not have fired the shot, but she is no less responsible! Remove the blinders from your eyes Beloved! See the truth for once, she is a worthless cun…”
I raised my hand to stop her before she dropped the C-bomb. I was too tired to continue fighting. Instead, I just put my arms around her and pressed my head to hers. Mercifully, the rant ended and we stood there in silence for a bit to enjoy the closeness that had been missing for the past three weeks.
“…I’m home…we are together…we can deal with the rest later. No one and nothing is coming between us…”
“Ugh. If you are going to engage in your lesbian activities, please wait until after I leave.”
I pulled away as Sarah’s eyes popped open and I turned to see Aveline Quinn’s bright face, made all the brighter against the black scarf completely covering her head, holding a bag that was filled with tiny French flags. Beside her was my own mother, wearing a crooked grin and a dress that was two sizes too small. I tensed, feeling a rush of anger and confusion, but Sarah gave a weak chuckle and a shrug of her shoulders.
“Step-Mumsie kept me company whilst you were…away and Mother Grey is joining us for Thanksgiving…SURPRISE!”
Surprise…indeed. This was NOT how I had planned to spend the holidays and it was NOT the people I had wanted to spend them with! Sarah and I still had much to talk about…but it would have to wait until the holidays were over and the surprises were done with!
Of course, she wasn’t the only one who was allowed a holiday surprise. I had ideas of my own this year…ideas that would sit even worse with her than this sat with me!
SARAH’S THANKSGIVING
It is a surprisingly rainy day in Hollywood on Thanksgiving, a fact which had caused an unbearable mess of flights at local airports, but the upstairs living quarters of “The Egg,” the Grey-Lacklan home within Hollywood’s hills, was warm. A fireplace, connected by the flume to the matching hearth downstairs, roars with a strong flame, heating the chill air, though seeming to do little to brighten the emotions inside.
“Oh, I DO wish you had not sent the help home for the holiday, Daughter. C'est sale ici.”
Sarah grinds her teeth at the disapproving tone of the mad Frenchwoman, but continues serving tea. With her platinum hair woven skyward in a bun and a thin net of jewels lining her forehead, the UGWC World Champion gracefully lowers the silver tea glasses before the two women sitting at the long table. Wrapped up in a magenta dress with black petticoat pleats and puffy shoulders, Sarah’s curves seem somewhat accentuated by the cut and style, suggestively showing her rounded femininity while also covering nearly every inch of her pale skin. The two women at the table are an odd contrast to her, as Aveline Lacklan’s dress is even more conservative, including a black scarf that completely covers her neck and hair, and Sidney Grey who wears a dress with a V-cut so low that the end dips fully down to her navel.
“I agree with Frenchie, dear. But the bourbon makes the dust go away!”
Already with a slur to her words, Sid takes a quaff of her drink while Aveline gives her a reproachful look.
“You imbibe too much, Sidney. Think of the example you are setting for the girls!”
Sid cackles as she holds up her glass to be refilled.
“Says the person who once got so wine-drunk with me that she-”
Aveline loudly clears her throat, which makes Sid laugh all the harder. In between them, Sarah looks up and tosses a desperate glance towards the door. Kenzi stood there, leaning against the frame, causing Sarah’s heart to melt. Sarah had kept count of every one of the 30,240 minutes that Kenzi had been away on her Scientology excursion, and while she was extremely annoyed about how Kenzi immediately began organizing a second, more inclusive party that would keep her away, she would relish every moment to drink her in. Kenzi’s microbraids were pulled up into a bun atop her head, helping to elongate her neck, and she wore a dress of black and red that matched Sarah’s colors quite well, though hers was cut with far more blatant sensuality, as the square neckline allowed a healthy amount of her cleavage to be tickled by the cool air.
“Beloved, could you help me with-”
‘Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2’ by Frédéric Chopin fills the room and Kenzi turns to glance at the security camera, then stiffens as she shuts off the video feed quickly.
“Be right back! Claire just got here with the deep fried ham. Got to go help her set it up downstairs for FriendsGiving!”
She dashes over and kisses Sarah quickly. Sarah opens her mouth to protest, but Kenzi’s back is to her and heading out of the room and toward the stairs in a flash, even despite her pronounced limp. While she takes a moment to enjoy the view of Kenzi’s rear leaving, her shoulders still slump. 30,240 minutes. And it felt as though the timer was still going.
“What in the hell is FriendsGiving?” Sidney asks with a slur.
“Nothing we need concern ourselves with, Mother Grey." Says Sarah as she gives a nonchalant wave of her hand.
"The real holiday celebration is here...with family, as it should be!”
Sarah takes a sip of her wine as she does her best to seem as if this is completely normal. Of course, it was far from it. Kenzi hadn’t been happy about sharing Thanksgiving with their mothers, but she had begrudgingly agreed...so long as she got to have her ridiculous FriendsGiving downstairs. She had promised that it wouldn’t disturb their much more important family gathering as she split time between the two. It was a concession between the two and had but one hard and fast rule...NO WHORES OR LYING CUNTS!
“Your sleeve, Daughter.”
Sarah jumps with a start as she feels a sharp jab in her side. A look down sees Aveline’s finger at her rib, but also one of Sarah’s sleeves falling into a boat a gravy. She growls in annoyance as she stands erect and backs away from the table, grabbing a napkin while moving. All across the table, the food she had prepared was accessible, and that meant gravy, as well. Food SHE had prepared! With her own hands! She had made meals for herself and Kenzi before, delicious things like steak and chicken, but never something as daunting as the first-ever Thanksgiving meal in the Egg for her family. She had brined a turkey the night before, spent an hour on potatoes alone, and “helped herself” to the wine while she made the gravy. There were, of course, her famous creamed onions from home, a popular Maine dish. She had made tweaks to the family recipe and made it much better, of course.
“I suppose being messy is becoming regular for you, though. Bad run at the office lately, oui?”
Sarah lifts her chin into the air with indignation, but her words carry the weight of grudging acceptance.
“It is not often that I find myself looking at a losing streak.”
She looks away for a moment and waves her hand in dismissal.
“Oh, I am sure that there will be people who cry out ‘But Sarah! You have only lost two matches!’ Or perhaps, even worse, Roxy Cotton will sing harmony to Magdalena Lockhart in the official Battle Cry of the Vapid, Useless Cunt: ‘But Sarah! Its stupid to care about things! Only stupid people care about things!’”
She shakes her head and then looks back at Aveline.
“But I care about things, Step-Mumsie. I care about wins and losses. I care about momentum and trends, about how we have done and where we are going, and how that all affects where we are. It is a major belief and concern within the Path, as you well know. And I especially care about how I am performing AS champion, and not just being proud over the fact that I BECAME champion.”
Aveline smiles behind the glass of water she brings to her lips.
“Unlike...say...the previous champion.”
Sarah narrows her eyes.
“Tell me about it. I understand how little others like Roxy personally appreciate such a sentiment, as her own performance as champion is likely so embarrassing that even her, who cares about nothing, who cares so little for the world that even her own life is meaningless and without consequence, finds embarrassment. For forty-two days, she held the ‘rock’ of our business and could only be bothered to wrestle three times. Three times! And of those three, her hand only found itself raised in victory once in a midcard match with little in the way of stake or purpose.”
She turns and begins to stalk a little, her heel turning after a handful of steps, and then returning. Sid raises an eyebrow at Aveline, but the Frenchwoman simply winks in response.
“But none of that matters to her, as she so gleefully reminded us with lackluster performance after uninspired showing. It mattered not that the world champion only laced up their boots half the time. It mattered not that even the dregs of forgotten Coalition lore, the Err Bears and Mark Stones of yore, giggle at how strong the champion looked for those forty-two days.”
She rolls her eyes and throws her hands up into the air.
“Not that she would know those names, since she no longer has me to do her research for her. I suppose I should say ‘the Maria Salvatores and Lindsay Bunnys of yore,’ so that she might know a touch more than a random glance at a bio or two. But again, none of that matters, right? Nothing matters to her. Not how she carried herself as champion. Not how she performed day-to-day. Not most of the matches she is booked in. Not even the ones she conveniently shows up during to fake wrestle for! NOTHING is important. NOTHING matters. NOTHING should even EXIST for Roxy Cotton. And if it DID exist? If it was REAL? It would just be stupid.”
She begins stomping as she paces and taking longer strides.
“But I care. I care that I have dropped two straight cooperative matches to the Raab and Yamazaki duo. I care that, after dominating this company since my return, I am showing weakness just days before my next defense of the World Heavyweight Championship. I care that my reputation as a wrestler, both here and elsewhere, is being scrutinized in this moment of failure. Because while Raab...or at least in the convenient flavor of Black Ice...might point out that fights outside the Coalition do not matter...even though I completely destroyed his point weeks before he even made it...perhaps he should start trying to comprehend my promotional videos while obsessing over them beforehand to figure out what he’s supposed to say in his own...I know the truth of the matter. Not only have I lost two matches here in the Coalition, but I have lost SIX in a row. Never in my career...not EVER...have I lost so many matches in such a span! And I CARE about that, Ava, just as much as I CARE about winning twelve in a row within the confines of the Coalition. I CARE about things. And BECAUSE I care about things, BECAUSE I invest my thoughts and feelings into WHY things happen, I KNOW why I am in my slump.”
She whirls on the duo at the table suddenly, her face schooled into smoothness.
“Real quick aside before I explain why CARING ABOUT SHIT FUCKING MATTERS: All of you may thank me for making Konrad Raab somewhat interesting and bearable. Raab as been in the Coalition for eighteen months, has amassed a pathetically dismal record of twenty and thirty-nine, and has been the most dull, boring, and coma-inducing figure since Jessica Mathis. But with ME to fight, with ME prodding and pushing him, I FORCED him into being something SOMEWHAT interesting. I have been able to make Konrad more interesting in two weeks than the rest of the roster COMBINED could in two YEARS. I literally inspired someone to go from Entertainment Level: Zane up to...well...not exactly Entertainment Level: Cynric...but at least somewhere near Entertainment Level: WcWrestleface...even if for but a moment. Unfortunately, I am sure that, by the time we raise our chins to our Horizons, all of that will be lost and he’ll be back to being boring, old Raab. But in the words of this extreme guy I know with a wicked laugh: I digress.”
She turns on her heel and begins pacing again.
“I am in this insane slump because of separation anxiety. I live a very public life, and while I recently cautioned a friend-”
She stops and puts a gloved finger to her pointed chin.
“Hmmm….is friend the right word for Sloane? Something to ponder…”
She shrugs and begins her pacing again.
“...while I have recently cautioned a friend on not letting her personal life interfere with her business life, I find myself having difficulty to do so. My personal and professional lives are intertwined inextricably. Every thing and person in my life is about or is in professional wrestling. I am a second generation wrestler, my church literally believes in the importance of celebrating the majesty of the sport for the glory of God...which I will be extrapolating more on next week... both my step-mumsie and mumsie-in-law are wrestlers, my sister is a wrestler...more on THAT piece of excrement later...all of my important relationships, be them friend or foe, are wrestlers. And most importantly, above all else, my spouse is a wrestler. My entire career was been intertwined with her. My very FIRST promotional video, published just a couple weeks shy of three years ago, featured her. The work in my first company was mired in the development of our relationship, and my first run in the Coalition, and Ladies All Star for that matter, was against the backdrop of our courtship and marriage. Over the last nearly three years, we have grown as a team in life and in business, and created a team that precious little can defeat.”
At the next spin of her heel, her face and shoulders fall.
“But that team has been strained lately.”
She looks at Aveline, and then slowly moves her gaze to Sid.
“Friends that have proven to be false, friends that have proven to be conniving thieves and liars, have pushed our boundaries. Distance, as I worked across the world and she dived into the South China Sea looking for a religious artifact, has left us ragged. And so mixed up are my personal and business lives, that my disheveled stature as I lived without my heart affected everything I have done. Without Kenzi with me, I have been, if I may use the terrible phrase, a hot mess.”
She looks away from her matriarchal figures and down at the floor beneath her heels.
“It has been so bad...I have been so bad...that even my extraordinary cooperative skills have failed me!”
She looks back up at them and her eyes shine behind her glasses.
“But that is over now! Because Kenzi’s excursion is at an end. Kenzi returned home yesterday, and outside of today’s...interesting...complexity, Kenzi and I will have several days off together in the Egg, just family being family, and reconnecting on that level of intimacy that someone like Roxy is too fake to ever achieve. After all, since nothing matters to her, since everything is stupid, someone like Roxy can never reach the level of inter-connectivity that we share. And that will, again, be her undoing in our match on Monday.”
She turns on her heels and begins her march yet again.
“Over the last two years, Roxy has desperately played this game of ‘clear sisters’ with Kenzi in her neverending attempt to stand taller than me. Well...she IS taller than me...but that’s not the point. The POINT is that I have ALWAYS been better than her from the day we met, and she KNOWS it. Mind you, from that day...and perhaps before...I was pretty much convinced that she was a part of a Scientology plot to steal my Beloved and all of our various riches, but that sounds idiotic once I say it out loud. Honestly! For one, Roxy isn’t smart enough for that, and two, Kenzi ‘doesn’t like blondes.’”
Massive finger quotes and rolled eyes as she spins in another direction.
“So the ‘sister’ bullshit. The reality of Roxy is that she probably thinks that being ‘fake’ sisters and ‘real’ sisters is the same thing! Just like how, apparently, having sex with other women still allows her and Vinnie to be ‘monogamous’ and how being eternal fiances is the same thing as being married. But guess what? Having sex with sluts like Kate does NOT make you monogamous and NEVER getting married is NOT the same as getting married! It just means you’re a sucker with a fiance who enjoys never actually having to deal with you permanently! And THAT is the EXTEND of Roxy’s ability to be close to someone. All of this nonsense about ‘clear sisters’ with Kenzi is as fake as every other thing I have brought up about her. All of this nonsense about being ‘best friends’ with Angelica is nonsense. I WAS ANGELICA’S BEST FRIEND!”
Aveine and Sid jump back in their seats with a start at the sudden scream of Sarah. The world champion’s feet stomp and her fists slam into her sides in the pure fit of a toddler, including her pale face turning scarlet with rage, and both “Mother Lacklan” and “Mother Grey” can almost see smoke rising out of her ears.
“But!”
They are equally surprised to see Sarah immediately return to her pacing as if she had never broken down.
“The fact that Roxy THINKS she has a close connection with ANYONE in this world is a weapon for me to use. Because when we go into that ring on Synergy, she will THINK that Kenzi is on her side. She will THINK that her timing with Angelica is perfect. But, in reality, Kenzi is NOT on her side, not when standing next to ME. Her timing with Angelica is NOTHING compared to OUR timing...even IF I plan on breaking her arm with the Pigeonwing once I get her one-on-one in the ring...and she’ll find that Angelica will NOT be there when she needs her. She’ll find that, no matter WHAT she thinks, she’s all alone in the company, all alone in the business. Whereas EVERYONE flocks to ME, whereas EVERYONE looks up to ME with eyes full of wistful shine, she has nothing but bored stares and people heading out to the restroom. While SHE-”
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
Sarah stops suddenly as the notification goes off. Reaching into a pocket hidden in one of the many pleats in her dress, she fishes out her phone and sees that, yes, her sister was calling her. She stares at it for many moments, her face narrowing, her mouth pinching.
“I am sincere, Daughter. I am telling the truth. She did not know until last year.”
Sarah stares at the smiling mug of her sister in silence.
“It is a holiday, Daughter. Holidays are for family.”
Sarah presses the large red key and looks up.
“I am with my family.”
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
A small smile makes its way to Aveline’s lips as Sarah looks back down at her phone. She presses the red button again.
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
She growls as she presses the red button again.
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
“DAMNIT”
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
“STOP IT”
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
“I am going to RIP OFF her fingers on Monday so that she can’t keep doing this!”
Video Call incoming from: Angelica Vaughn
ROXY AND VINNIE ARRIVE
“Babe, hold the cran while I fix my hat buckle?”
“Ugh.”
Vinnie Lane handed over his platter to Roxy Cotton. On top of the large oval china was a wobbling cylinder of reddish-purple, glistening in the afternoon light of West Hollywood. There were still grooves in the sides of the cranberry sauce to indicate it had only recently been freed from the inside of a can.
Vinnie tightened the buckle on his pilgrim hat and then leaned forward to adjust his stockings as well before taking the massive plate back from his fiance, who accompanied him to the Friendsgiving celebration as only she could - matching his historically accurate and TOTALLY RADICAL pilgrim suit in a barely-there native dress with fringe barely falling over her thighs. The single feather sticking up from her braided blonde hair wiggled as she adjusted her balance when Vinnie took the sauce.
“Jesus Christ, Vin, that thing weighs twenty pounds! Where did you get a can of cranberry sauce that huge?”
Vinnie smiled, then raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Well, since you asked, Poke-A-Hot-Ass, I have these specially made! These are Loverboy Brand “Girthy Gobbler” Cranberry Sauces! The most delish and the BIGGEST available anywhere! Look at that bad boy wiggle!”
Wiggle it does, as Vinnie shimmies the plate slightly back and forth. The cylinder heaves to and fro, its twelve inch diameter pushing the boundaries of physics. A sound not unlike someone waving a thin metal sheet accompanies the sauce as it bobbles and rolls.
“So wicked. And totally vegan, babe! You’re gonna LOVE it.”
“Well, at least I can eat SOMEthing. Kenzi probably cooked everything else in bacon grease or turkey fat. I’ve been trying to get her to give up animal products for a while but she isn’t listening. I’ve got a plan though.”
Roxy said, smirking. She then pulled out a small thumb drive from… somewhere. She probably has one of those tiny wampum pouches sewn into her dress, but Hiawatha knows it isn’t visible.
“What’s that, dude?”
“THIS is a documentary showing the terrible ways turkeys are treated and slaughtered. I’m going to ask Kenz to plug this into her TV so we can have an educational dinner!”
“Uh… babe, I’m not sure Thanksgiving dinner is the best time for that? People are trying to eat, you know?”
“That’s exactly the point, Vinnie! These poor birds are miserable! They’re mistreated, given awful living conditions, then they get inhumanely slaughtered and humiliated… it’s a life of total subjugation.”
“True… a sad de-evolution from the mighty dinosaurs they once were. Hey, mind knocking on the door? I can’t on account of the cran.”
“Ugh. Look at this stupid thing. You just KNOW Sarah bought this.”
Roxy pointed at the middle of the door, where a massively disproportionate knocker was set into the wood. The door knocker, a black metal gargoyle with glimmering ruby eyes and dry ice puffing from its nostrils, gripped a large iron ring in its jagged teeth to use when knocking on the door. It looked like it could knock straight through it.
“I’m just going to use the doorbell.”
“Smart.”
Roxy pressed the emerald encircled by delicate lace carvings next to the door, and soon the slow, emotional tones of Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 by Frédéric Chopin fills the air. Vinnie and Roxy stand while the classic composition plays. And plays. And plays.
“How many times did you press it, dude?”
“Godammit. Sarah must have had this installed too! KENZI! KENZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”
Roxy started pounding on the door with the heel of her hand then, her feather bouncing around wildly from the inertia. Meanwhile, next to her, a single tear rolls down Vinnie’s cheek.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Why are you crying? You can’t cry! My friends are going to see you!”
“It’s just a really beautiful song, man!”
A cold passed between them, born from the icicle gaze of Roxy Cotton that brought the air filling the space from herself to Vinnie Lane immediately to absolute zero.
“Brr! Did you feel a chill, babe?”
“My god, does anyone answer the door around here? And how is this freaking doorbell still going?”
“Here, let me give it a shot, Rox… you know, I did dabble in a little drumming in my day! Here, take the cran again. Careful. Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaareful.”
Vinnie hands the sauce plate back to Roxy as if he were gently cradling a newborn infant. Roxy takes it impatiently as Vinnie steps up to the door and starts slapping his hands against the wood in rhythmic pitter-patter to the tune of the classic glam anthem, Hot For Teacher by Van Halen.
“Got it maaaade got it maaaaaaade got it maaaaaaade…”
“HEY VINNIE! I’ll be right there!”
The voice crackled across from a speaker over the door. A small security camera pointed down right at Vinnie as he got startled by the sudden sound, sending him flailing backward and colliding with Roxy… which sends the cranberry colossus up and into her face.
“Oh no! My delicious cran!”
“VmmmmNgggg!”
"Oh crud! Oh dude, my bad, totally my bad… hold on… here… I got you…”
Vinnie gripped the plate with one hand and braced himself against Roxy’s forehead with the other. Leaning back, he pulled the cranberry sauce away from Roxy’s face with a sucking pop. The sauce was left mostly intact, save for an eerie face print from Roxy… but Roxy was left covered in a cranberry tint, as if she were trying on a new radish-based facial scrub.
“VINNIE!”
Roxy stood, shaking, her face a bright cranberry red. She looked ready to scalp her first pilgrim, but before she got the chance the front door swung open and her bestie Kenzi Grey stood in the entrance, her mouth hanging wide open.
“ROXY! What kind of racist bullshit is this?”
“What? Huh?”
“You roll up to my home wearing REDFACE? Are you kidding me right now?”
“NO! Kenzi, it’s Vinnie, his stupid sauce…”
“Get your dumb ass in here and wash that crap off! Bathroom’s on the right… damn!”
“Happy T-Gives, Kenz! I brought some yums!”
Vinnie then handed Kenzi the cran and stood in front of her smiling, waiting for a pleasant reaction. Kenzi was too busy staring at the face of Roxy Cotton imprinted in the otherwise structurally intact gooey cylinder of sweet sweet cranberry.
Roxy made her way quickly to the bathroom while Vinnie and Kenzi exchanged tense pleasantries, the two of them still trying to work past the awkwardness of the events of WrestleStock and the big reveal at XWF’s Relentless. They’d all agreed as a group to set differences aside and enjoy a holiday together in spite of the various dark clouds hanging overhead. Well. Almost all of them had.
Roxy splashed water onto her face and scrubbed at the redness on her skin. After noticing the edges fraying up, she dug at one with her fingernail and then gripped the peeling red between thumb and forefinger, tugging the red mask off in a slow, steady motion.
“Ew…”
But looking into the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice the flawless, smooth way her face had been rendered from the cranberry mask. It had done miraculous things with her complexion.
“Huh. Imagine that.”
Looking around, Roxy found a small towel rod with a fluffy towel hanging from it. A fancy one, with the word BELOVED embroidered into it. Roxy tossed the towel onto the floor between the toilet and the sink, and then hung her sticky facial mask off of the bare peg poking from the wall.
“You all good babe?”
Vinnie’s pilgrim hat followed by his head entered the bathroom and cautiously inquired on Roxy’s progress.
“Kenz had to run back upstairs… I guess she’s up there helping Sarah get into some sort of gigantic hoop skirt or something? That’s why it took so long to open the door, man. Sorry about the cranberry sauce, dude, but… hey, guess what? No harm no foul! You look awesome and the sauce is in A-1 shape! We are rockin’ and rollin’ babe!”
“Yeah. Hmmm… you said Sarah was upstairs?”
“Yeah dude Kenzi was mumbling about petticoats or something… I got real confused real fast.”
“Nothing new there. So, Sarah’s upstairs, probably doing her best to give me the cold shoulder. Typical. That’s fine, we’re here, she’ll have to deal with it at some point or another. Then maybe we can settle this nonsense. Of course I’m sure before we make any sort of headway towards a truce or a resolution, we’ll have to hear some verbose monologue replete with mathematical proof that Sarah Lacklan is the greatest at everything, ever. Why, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving with 27 color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one is… all in some desperate attempt by Sarah to prove to everyone and anyone who’ll listen that she’s the superior champion between us. Nevermind that no one is keeping score except her… she still needs to WIN.”
“Babe, come on…”
“No, it’s fine. It is what it is. Sarah will continue to focus on minutiae so she can pat herself on the back every night for having paid the most attention to mundane details. She’ll probably have a day by day breakdown of how many times she’s wiped her ass as champion versus how many times I did. Nothing matters more to Sarah than being the best on paper, which of course is fitting, since it’s the only way she’s better than anyone at all. Think about it, Vinnie… what has she done since beating me? Broken the record for losses to Raab? Somehow conjured a reality into being wherein Johnny Bonecrusher is main eventing a pay per view in the 21st century? Seriously?”
“Well, I mean, she IS the champion…”
“And so was I. And I got there without taking a break halfway through the year because I got my panties in a twist. I got there without relying on my mother to help me. In fact, I clawed my way to the Coalition Championship with EVERYONE in this company against me, including my own friends. Sarah? She’s been treated like a special little snowflake at every turn because anyone who knows her for more than ten minutes realizes, if you hurt her little fee-fees she runs off and subtweets herself into a conniption fit. I’ve done everything Sarah has done. I’ve mattered every bit as much as she has. We were supposed to be EQUALS, Vinnie, and I was always fine with that arrangement… but one day Sarah decided that she wasn’t happy unless she was number one on every list, because Sarah can’t take it if everything doesn’t have her name on it. Titles, events, countries, Kenzi… she has to OWN. And if she doesn’t, then she quits.”
“The days and weeks following my championship win were the hardest of my life, Vinnie. I didn’t even get a chance to enjoy my victory. I didn’t get a moment to bask in the fact that I’d accomplished so much. Between my injury, the trauma I suffered leading up to Grand Slam, the misunderstanding with Kenzi… I deserved better. And if I was anyone else, I would have been afforded the opportunity to get situated before having to face her own friend with such high stakes on the line. But I showed up, didn’t I? I went to work and I gave it everything I had, and I have no problem admitting that at Battleground, Sarah won. But you know what was missing? Unlike when I beat her to win the G… the Coalition Challenge earlier this year, when I wrapped my arms around her right after the match and we cried together because of what WE had done, what WE had been through, what WE were doing by rebranding the face of this company and this industry… after Battleground, Sarah didn’t even look down to see if I was all right. Eyes on her. Always. Eyes. On. Her.”
“Well, guess what Vinnie? The joke’s on her. She’s gotten all that attention she asked for and she hasn’t lived up to it. She’s spent hours pouring over record books, spent sleepless nights reviewing promos for ammunition, and invested countless days into watching tape, looking for every little nugget of information there is to be had in this business. She’s an obsessive student of the game. No one puts more time and effort into research, that’s the truth… but no matter what she does, she can’t dispel the simple fact that I didn’t have to try that hard to be every bit as good as her.”
WHEREFORE ART THOU, ANGIE?
Thursday, November 28th
Thanksgiving
The Rose Kitty Café
Portland, Oregon
Thanksgiving
The Rose Kitty Café
Portland, Oregon
Far away from all of that turmoil, we go to a place that the UGWC faithful have undoubtedly seen before. The Rose Kitty Café. Angelica Vaughn’s very first (somewhat) independent business venture, where people of all ages and sizes can come to enjoy the best things that life has to offer. We’re talking of course, about the delightful company of dozens of kitties.
But today isn’t a regular day. It is THANKSgiving, or thanksGIVING, however you wanna stress it. And our leggy blonde of legend had to make sure all of her bases were covered. The event she’d organized, aptly named ”ANG’S GIVING” was one for the homeless of Oregon. Not just homeless kitties, who were always taken care of anyway, but the homeless people who had neither the money or shelter to properly enjoy this holiday. Anybody who came in got a free plate of food, a hot drink; and best of all: got to enjoy it in the company of the many curious cats who neither judged or avoided them. Many homeless people loved animals dearly, often keeping pets as company. A lot of them had dogs, although Angelica had kindly requested that they remained outside so as not to upset the cats. But at least she’d provided them with dog biscuits and top of the line Taste of the Wild High Protein Dry Dog Food.
Angelica was running around hither and thither, trying to make sure everything remained calm, peaceful and organized, pitching in wherever needed or where the members of staff seemed a bit shorthanded. There was seating to be taken care of, cooking (although she was more likely to burn everything and send everyone running and screaming if she so much as stirred a pot of boiling water), security (you never know), waiting on the regular tables, cat care, and of course providing the free meal advertised. Right now she was standing behind the buffet, helping the homeless people get their food. The event was a big success and many had shown up. On one hand, Angie was glad that she could help them, but on the other hand it was painful to see how many people actually needed this kind of help in order to enjoy one of the loveliest holidays of the year. But, she tried to focus on the positive. Tried. The past few weeks had been negative enough.
“There you go, sir, nice slice of turkeeeeey, nice scoop of maaaaaash, bit of green bean casseroooole! Perfect! You can go over there for a drink, obvs! Coffee, tea, bit of mulled wine. Oh, and don’t forget at the end to take a creamed oni-...”
The word stuck in her throat. It was like the world came to a screeching halt.
Creamed onions. Creamed ruddy onions! What a stupid, silly thing to get hung up over, but whereas for many it was a ‘no, thanks’ at the buffet, for Angelica it was a symbol.
“Are you okay?” the man in front of her asked, noticing her sudden distraughtness. Angie nodded absent-mindedly and took off her apron, slinging it over her shoulder before turning to the staff member next to her.
“Hey, Patrick, I err… need a bit of a break. Mind filling in for me for a bit?”
“Not a problem, Miss Vaughn!” he said, but Angie shook her head.
“Sers, call me Angie, please.”
She gratefully tapped him on the shoulder as she went to seek a quieter spot where she could sit down for a second. With a deep sigh she sat herself down on a somewhat secluded free chair. It didn’t take long until two cats came twirling around her legs and one of them jumped on her lap. She scratched it behind the ear, but even that didn’t really fill up the emptiness inside.
“I should be feeling better than this,” Angie told it. “You know, Thanksgiving is all about being grateful and stuff. And honestly, I have so much to be grateful for. I found my mother again. I have a great wrestling career, successful businesses. I do fun stuff in movies and on TV, and I honestly have more money than I should have at this point of my life. I’ve got two darling kitties at home, and providing great care for you and all of your little brothers and sisters here in Portland and down in Dallas. But what is all of that worth if I can’t share all of this with the people I care most about?”
Angie recalled last Thanksgiving, when every one of her #CoolKid friends had come over to the ranch. They’d been so happy. They’d had their differences, but on that day, all was forgotten and everything was simply perfect. From the food that she had secretly catered out, to Roxy’s drunken karaoke rendition of “Bad Romance”, to Kenzi winning five consecutive games of dominoes, and the pride with which Sarah had showed off her Stupid. Creamed. Onions and had obligated everyone to eat at least three. And Angie hadn’t even been able to deny that they’d been spectacularly delish. It was weird to think that a taste for creamed onions could be genetic, but it certainly didn’t seem impossible. Either way, Angelica missed her friends, and as great as this event was, as much love and compassion she was trying to GIVE to all these people, deep down the sad realization was that she didn’t want to be here.
She wanted to be over THERE. At the Friendsgiving party. With Kenzi, Roxy, Sarah, besties and sisters all, giggling with a few glasses of wine and eating all the food they could stuff their mouths with. Yes, gluttony was a sin, but it seemed appropriate on such an occasion. Regardless, it seemed that there were very few people she could fall back on. Sure, she had other ‘friends’, but none of them felt like family. And you were supposed to spend Thanksgiving with FAMILY! She didn’t know why she felt so strongly on the subject, but she simply DID. And she couldn’t even spend it with her mom, who had gone out on a blind date. Heck, she’d be overjoyed at a nice, simple Thanksgiving dinner with her. And it probably would’ve been very likely had she not broken up with D-...
Yeah, another painful thought. Another person who she once viewed as family, or as close as one could be, gone. On a vengeful quest to hurt her. Even after Synergy he deemed it necessary to fan the flames even further, challenging her to a Texas Bullrope Match. Another symbolic way of destroying the ties that once bound them, perhaps? She didn’t know. All she knew that looking around this place just brought more memories. Memories which had once been happy, but now just a reminder for what she had lost.
She took the apron off her shoulder, and held it in front of her. Even now, the memory of Dave Rydell wearing it and serving a glass of Pepsi to a kid stroking a kitten had difficulty not conjuring a smile on her face. How was it possible for one person to change SO much? How was it possible for one person to turn so hostile, to go from friend to hated foe in so quickly a time span?
Except it wasn’t one. There were two.
“Maybe it’s just all simply totes my fault, and I’m the most horbz person ever!” she whispered.
Except she didn’t believe that. And if she WAS, then it was despite her best efforts not to be. She balled her hand into a fist. She HAD to get through to Sarah. She HAD to tell her what else she knew. It was the ONLY way to fix the situation, and if she didn’t at least TRY, then how could she POSSIBLY expect her to understand? Dave’s was a fence she didn’t think she could mend, but the other one was.
“MISS VAUGHN! MISS VAUGHN!”
One of the staff, a young student named Lucy who worked on weekends and holidays to help pay for college tuition, ran over to her, poking her thumb over her shoulder.
“Call me Angie, for the millionth time!”
“Fine. Err, there’s a problem with the pecan pie!!!”
“Problem? What problem?”
“It has no pecans!”
“Are you sure that’s not just the pumpkin pie?”
“Oh… Errr, I’ll have to go and check!”
Lucy ran off and Angie chuckled. She was a nice person, but not too bright. Reminded her of herself in a lot of ways. But at least she was going to get a college degree, whereas Angie had never even finished high school. If not for her friends, she’d never have been where she was today.
She got up and took her phone. She didn’t have high hopes, but there were no two ways about it. She dialled Sarah’s number. Or rather, tapped on her name on the touchscreen, because modern technology. It called for a beep or two, then went to voicemail.
“Hii-iiiii! You’ve reached the voicemail of YOUR World’s Champion Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan, I’m unavailable and this mo so leave a message after the beep unless YOU’RE THE FUCKING LYING CUNT BITCH THEN FUCK OFF AND DON’T DIE UNLESS I KILL YOU MYSELF!”
Angie cringed at the last part, removing the phone a few inches from her ear so as not to develop instant tinnitus. As expected. But she wasn’t going to give up. SO she tried again.
And again. And two more times. And five more times. And ten more times. Until finally she bowed her head.
It clearly was of little use. She was going to need some help again. She dialed another number.
“Kenzi?” Angelica asked as soon as she heard movement on the other side of the line.
“Ang? Oh, hi chick. Sorry, bit of a bad time. We’ve… had a bit of a situation here.”
“Uh oh. What happened?”
The Party in Full Swing
My right knee burned with the heat of a thousand suns as I spent the holiday traversing back and forth from Thanksgiving upstairs with my wife and mothers then back downstairs with my host of invited friends. I shouldn’t have been spending so much time on my surgically corrected knee, but this was too special a day not to try to spend it with everyone I could. If Sarah was too pigheaded to share, then I would share my time for the both of us. I had hoped that she saw, that unlike her, I was willing to swallow my foolish pride where she was concerned. Aveline and my mother were never going to be two of my favorite people, but I did what I could to make Sarah happy.
I sat upstairs for Thanksgiving, holding Sarah’s hand under the table while I tried not to gouge out my own eyes with a paring knife while Ava regaled us with stories from the Bible which always seemed to find a way to tie back to Jean Paul and his preaching. I’d only known the man the last few weeks of his life, but if all of the bastard children that were popping up out of the woodwork was any indication, then the only thing about him that was hol(e)y was all the places he found to stick his prick! Seriously…I was on the fucking verge of asking mother if she was sure I wasn’t one of his goddamn kids as well!
I heard someone yell; “I NEED MORE RAISINS FOR CHEWIE’S GRAVY BOAT!”
I kissed Sarah and excused myself. I saw the look of disappointment on my wife’s face. Either she really wanted me to hear about the time Jean Paul slept in the belly of a whale or she just didn’t want to be tortured all alone. Regardless, I had my own party obligations to attend to. “…sorry baby, I’ll be right back…I promise…”
Just like that, I was on my way back downstairs, wiggling out of my cocktail dress and revealing my much more relaxing and appropriate Friendsgiving attire; low-cut crop top and matching faux deer skin booty shorts. I snatched my feathered headdress from the mantel and rode the railing down to the basement, where the party was in full swing!
Maleek Raheem was busy dodging the daggers that his soon-to-be ex-wife was hurling his way from across the room. He ignored her, licking his lips at every available woman in sight. I knew it was probably a bad idea to invite them both, but I still held out hope that the two of them would find a way to get back together. Marriage was important and it was supposed to be forever! I hated seeing any relationship torn apart, though this one was looking to be on life support at the moment.
Natasha Wilmslow had started the night as a polite and ingratiating party-goer, garnering every bit of sympathy she could from anyone who’d listen about how SEB had continued to snub her. Everyone rallied around to cheer the lovely socialite up, but after a few hours of drinking and partying ‘Tasha’ had come out to play. She was still the center of attention for every man in the place, and even a few women, but now she was bitchy and snarky, seemingly all thoughts of SEB put behind her.
“…good for her…” I remarked to myself. His loss…but only if I couldn’t find a way to smash the two of them together and FORCE them into being a couple!
I peered through the swath of bodies and my eyes connected with Ashley Marie Chase. I gave her a complex series of hand signals, and she gave a curt nod and a thumbs up. She was my first mentor in the wrestling business, and oldest friend. She was busy making the rounds as the life of the party. She was a natural-born flirt and she did her best to garner just as much attention as Tasha, though she had let it known that she had an eye out for any sign of trouble. She’d seen the dust up between Sarah and Angie and she’d made it clear that she would let no harm befall her Team Bestie ally.
In this, she had very little to worry about. I had no intention of letting anything happen to my little sister either! Sarah had tore into Angie after hearing the news that had been suppressed from her for months on end and she had lashed out before I could stop her. I actually understood her anger and hurt, I might have reacted the same if I were in her shoes, but instead of taking in the shock and pain, then sitting it aside to allow cooler heads to prevail, she had only become angrier and blood thirsty. To be honest, I didn’t get it and I never would! Angie might have done a stupid thing by not telling us the truth when she found out, but that didn’t make her a ‘lying cunt’... that made her frightened…and now I could see that she had every fucking reason to be. I loved Sarah with all my heart, but this was a side of her that I loathed to see. It was NOT the person I had fallen in love with! She was stubborn and unreasonable, determined to be right about everything and listen to absolutely no one! She was becoming a perfect carbon copy of Aveline Quinn, and it was only a matter of time before she started cackling and slashing her arms like a fucking insane person!
I knew that Sarah was looking forward to Cool Kids vs Cool Kids match on Monday night. It was all she could talk about, besides the perfect family Thanksgiving dinner she had prepared with her own hands. She was chomping at the bit, while I was scratching my head at the odd booking, just a week away from Horizons. The four of us had other obligations to ready ourselves for, but management had come to the conclusion that our internal turmoil made for more compelling booking. Well, it was probably true, but I would have much rather preferred being teamed with Sarah against the duo of Travis Pierce and Johnny Bonecrusher, with Hide Yamazaki! Hell, maybe even teamed against Dave Rydell and Donovan Hastings! Instead, I’d be pressed into battle against MY sisters for some crazy reason that I’d get to the bottom of!
Still, a match was a match. Angie had taught me that lesson on many occasions over the course of last year. When we found ourselves across from each other, she didn’t hold back…so I couldn’t either. I wasn’t coming for blood like Sarah was, but there was no way in hell that I would let Angie just kick my fucking head off my shoulders again! She was my sister, but I was gonna beat her ass like a total fucking stranger when that bell rang…and I knew she’d do the same. I was just going to make damn sure that she didn’t leave on a stretcher.
I finally spotted Roxy, taking aim at Chewie with a piece of fruit cake fashioned into a WWII bomb as he sailed around a gravy river obstacle course on a boat made of raisins. I ran over and caught her hand before she could unleash hell, much to the disgust of Claire Rogers and Johnny Bonecrusher, who both seemed to have money on the outcome. Johnny muttered under his breath and headed off in one direction, while Claire gave me the finger and tore into a turkey leg with reckless abandon.
Can you PLEASE not drown Chewy? I don’t want to have to spend 6-hours trying to explain what happened to his owner, okay?”
Roxy rolled her eyes, clearly not caring at all about my comfort. “Kenz, just tell Coda that her rat slipped and fell trying to get away from one of Sarah’s feral cats!”
“His owner is Alex Yin! All Asians don’t look alike, okay?”
Roxy exhaled as she sucked her teeth and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “They probably do to you, since you only ever saw the tops of their heads!”
I covered my face, partly out of shock, partly to keep from laughing, and 100% out of embarrassment. In that moment, I got a taste of where Sarah was coming from with her feelings towards her. Roxy was selfish and rude. She didn’t care about feelings, unless they were her own. She was the center of her own universe and we were all lucky to even get to spiral out of control outside of it…only…that really wasn’t what Roxy was at all.
I knew that was what others saw, but I couldn’t understand how that was all that Sarah saw. We had all been friends for many years now. We had all seen each other at our worst…but what was important was that we had seen each other at our best. I had seen sides of Roxy that others never would, just as I knew Angie had and I knew that Sarah had as well. Yeah, Roxy was rude and she didn’t often, if hardly ever let anyone inside…but we had all had a glimpse. Hell! I had entrusted my wife to Roxy when she was comatose on more than one occasion. I suspect the experiences weren’t all hallmark moments, but Roxy was my #ClearSister and I knew she would cut off her own arm before she intentionally hurt me by letting any harm befall Sarah.
I didn’t like my wife’s constant baiting and belittling of Roxy for that very reason, let alone the fact that UGWC was filled with fucking dickheads who’d high-five Sarah for her slander, while saying the same bullshit about me! I didn’t give a flying fuck that Roxy’s title reign had been a short one, it had been one that would make her a sure-fire hall of famer one day, no question! She held every singles championship, simultaneously and all the crying, bitching, and complaining in the world wasn’t going to change that! Was Roxy an asshole?
FUCK YES!
But Roxy was as much my sister as Angie was, and there was no way that I would let jealousy or stupidity turn me against her…EVER! She had saved me in a way that few…if any, could understand. She’d been the one that I could always count on to cheer me up when I was feeling down on myself. She showed me a world where I didn’t have to confused or afraid of who I was. It was okay to be a little selfish…it was okay to be a bit of an asshole. It was okay to be me, because I was loved by those that mattered most. I’d never turn my back on Roxy…outside the ring.
Monday was a different matter and a match was a match. I’d fight her tooth and nail because that is what we did for a living, I just wouldn’t be doing it for some misguided bullshit reason! I’d fight Roxy because no matter the dumb narrative, in 2019 she had been one of the very best and she still was! She had attained heights that I might never see…and heights no one would ever consider seeing me at if I didn’t make my case in the ring! Yeah, on Monday I’d fight my ass off against my #ClearSister at my wife’s side…but I’d do it for all the right reasons.
I arched my brow at Roxy, then burst out laughing. Unable to stay mad at her for very long. I put my arms around her, and kissed her cheek as I whispered into her ear… “…fuck you bitch…”
Sar finally comes down to the party
Sarah’s face turns down into a scowl as she hears yet another bit of unwarranted revelry reach up through the house to find her ears. Before her, Sidney and Aveline were sharing a laugh over something she had missed...likely about how “lesbians are the worst” or some such...but otherwise the room was somber. They had enjoyed their meal for what it was, but it was much too lonely for her without Kenzi there. Kenzi had come up and down the stairs several times to spend time with her...once with a lampshade caught up in her braids...but it was always too soon when she would go back down to be among their friends.
Their friends.
Two months ago, Sarah would have arranged the party herself. Kenzi never did these things quite as well as she did, of course...Kenzi always tried to do in three steps what seventeen CLEARLY would have accomplished MUCH more...and Sarah would have delighted in all of the necessary arrangements. But now she didn’t feel up to it. Not up to anything, really. Angelica ripped out her heart, and in doing so, made Sarah feel that not anyone in the world was trustworthy, outside of Kenzi. Well, outside of that whole “I lied about where I was so I could get this super secret LIFE ALTERING AND DANGEROUS SURGERY without you there and holy FUCK ARE YOU PISSED AT ME RIGHT NOW but we’ll talk about this AFTER Thanksgiving, okay, babe? LOOOOVE YOUUUUUU” situation, anyway. So here she was, sitting with two women who had both fucked her over AND supported her in equal measure, instead of being among the friends that the Grey-Lacklans had cultivated together. She knew Claire and Xim were here, and probably that rat Chewie, and she assumed some of the newer people like that Natasha woman. And Ashley Marie Chase, of course, because she would NEVER pass up an opportunity to “accidentally” make a pass at both her AND Kenzi while “drunk.” Bless her heart.
She sits up with a start as she hears a loud crash from down below, followed by someone slamming their fingers down on the keys of her piano in some ham-fisted attempt at music. HER piano! Another crash comes from down below...this sounded like the chandelier above their dining room table and Kenzi’s ass was going to be PURPLE if it was...and Sarah throws down her napkin to the table.
“Step-Mumsie. Mumsie-in-Law. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure that my future children will have something to inherit. And more than just the story of how ONE of their mothers destroyed EVERYTHING while trying to ‘prove’ a point.”
Sid and Aveline shoot one another a look as Sarah pushes her chair back and stands upright.
“Children, Daughter?”
“I thought you couldn’t…”
Sarah raises her chin slightly as she uses her hands to smooth down her many, MANY black petticoats.
“It is dangerous, for both me and my babes. But I will. Someday.”
She looks directly at Sid.
“A very long time from now.”
Sidney breathes out in relief as Sarah turns her eyes back to Aveline.
“I am eldest, Step-Mumsie. It is my job to carry the line, even if it costs me dearly. Now, if you two will excuse me…”
Sarah gives them a small nod, adjusts her glasses, turns on her heel, and heads toward the stairs.
As Sarah makes her way down to the basement for Friendsgiving, she can literally feel the walls vibrating from the loud music and bodies bouncing off one another in a mixture of laughter and fellowship. It stood in sharp contrast to Thanksgiving upstairs with her two mumsies and left her more than a bit conflicted inside.
Sarah pauses as she notices Kenzi’s cocktail dress haphazardly discarded on the backs of one of their sofas in the Great Room. She rolls her eyes as she mutters under her breath how she better not find any whores ogling what was hers!
“BELOVED?!” Sarah calls out as she walks into the throng of bodies.
Right on cue, Ashley Marie Chase sprung into action. This was the moment she has been preparing for during the entire LFL off-season. She was determined not to allow her quarterback to be sacked tonight! It was no secret that Sarah would be in attack mode as soon as she saw Roxy Cotton within the confines of Lacklanland West, but the sacred nature of Friendsgiving would not be ruined on this night!
“Oof!!” Sarah is startled as a body crashes into her, knocking off her glasses...just as the play had been drafted.
“OH MY GOSH, SARAH ARE YOU OKAY?” AMC says in an unreasonably loud tone, even as she kicks Sarah’s glasses away.
“FUCK ME IN THE GOAT ASS! WHERE ARE MY GLASSES?!”
Kenzi runs over to finish off the play, giving AMC a wink as Sarah clung to her tightly, squinting as she struggles to see.
“I got you babe! Just stay with me...okay?”
Sarah holds on to Kenzi tightly as she looks around the room, attempting to make out the guests. She’s nearly knocked to the floor as she collides with Bobbi London. She glares at the behemoth, narrowing her eyes as a frown crosses her face. She turns to Kenzi with a snarl, “I don’t know how or where you found Kem Dynamo, but you make sure to take note of every single piece of furnishing she put her oversized rear in! I’m sending her a bill for ALL the damage! Do you hear me?!”
“I hear you babe.”
Kenzi hugs Sarah, happy to have her by her side, if nothing else. There would be no fights tonight. That could wait until Monday...she hoped…
“OBVS! OBVS! OBVS!”
Kenzi’s eyes go wide as she feels her phone vibrating while Angie’s cheerful voice fills the are. She feels Sarah freeze under her arms and she looks up to see Roxy in the corner, her own eyes wide at the situation. She pulls Sarah through the mass of bodies...she had invited literally everyone they knew...and tries to ignore the call.
“OBVS! OBVS! OBVS!”
“What is that, Beloved? I could swear I heard the LYING voice of my TREACHEROUS sister, but I am SURE that you would NEVER invite someone I LOATHE, of course.”
Kenzi can feel a cold sweat on her forehead as she moves them through the crowd and further away from Roxy.
“WHAT? I can’t hear you over the music!”
“I SAID-”
“CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
Through the room they go, stumbling into and around people between her leg and Sarah’s blindness.
“OBVS! OBVS! OBVS!”
“...jeez, Sis...cool it…”
“WHAT?”
“I said ‘Cheezits and Cool Whip! I just forgot to put the emphasis on the H like you taught me.’”
Sarah chews on her lips for a moment as Kenzi pushes her through.
“That sounds sexy.”
“How-”
“Three weeks was a LONG time, Beloved.”
“Well-”
“I mean, we WRECKED the bed last night and all, but we could destroy the kitchen, too. I think we have a box of Cheezits somewhere and-”
Kenzi smiles at a few party-goers who overhear the idea and pushes Sarah out of the room and into the side hall which leads to the stairs which lead to their small training room. With some distance from the noise, Kenzi reaches into her shorts and pulls out her phone..
“OBVS! OBVS! OBVS!”
“Okay, NOW I know I heard that VILLAIN’S voice. Where is she?!”
Sarah spins around and throws up her hands, but ends up facing one of the house plants in the corner leading to the stairs. Kenzi’s eyes roll...she has found herself doing that a LOT since getting married...when she remembers the first time Sarah mistook a houseplant for someone with her glasses off, and looks at her phone. Angie’s face smiles at her, a face full of joy. There were plenty of differences between Sarah and Angie, but now that she know what to look for, she felt foolish for never noticing the similarities. Their eye shape and eyebrows. Their jaw. They looked VERY much alike when they were both laughing their asses off, that kind of laugh that made your stomach hurt. She sighs and answers her phone.
Do you wanna build a snowman?
Angie chews her lips as the silence stretches. What happened? Did Chewie drown?! Did AMC “accidentally” get naked in front of everyone again? Did-
“Sar MAY have lost her glasses...because I invited Rox...and I didn’t want World War 3!”
The urgency in the whisper from Kenzi made Angie both relax and tighten up. It was nothing serious, at least not TOO serious.
“Ken...I need to talk to Sar.”
Another beat of silence.
“Angie, I don’t know if-”
“Please? I’ve called her a bunch, like, 20 times, and it’s sers bugging me, like, I’m having this party at my Kitty Café and I can’t even concentrate! I want to tell her about...you know...that letter I showed you? She HAS to know, Kenz. Sooner, not later.”
A sigh on the other side.
“Hold on.”
Angie sighs in relief when Kenzi hangs up. No lecture about how her dad was “free” with his relationships this time. Mom was one of those relationships, tyvm! And what she saw in Mom’s eyes when talking about HIM was love. The same love she saw when Kenzi and Sarah talked about one another. And...though she hated to admit it...the same love she saw in Bordy’s eyes. It was we-
Video Call incoming from: Sarah Grey-Lacklan
Angie’s heart stops when she sees her phone light up. Her fingers tremble a touch as she presses the green button and puts on the biggest smile she can, although she feels it’s so forced she looks like a victim of a Joker laughing gas bomb. When the phone connects, she sees Sarah’s face, minus the missing glasses, but fully equipped with Ice Queen of Severity, Level Seven. She had seen that face a lot since Bordy spilled the beans, but this was important.
“H-hi, S-sar-S...”
But as Angelica wanted to finish addressing her with her preferred nickname for her friend/sister, all she was met with was a scowl and grunt of utter disgust.
“You may STOP right there, you piece of deceiving trash! Only my best non-spouse friend is allowed to call me that and she is DEAD! DEAD, you hear??”
“Look, Sarah, before we step into the ring on Monday I JUST wanted to...”
“Wanted to what? Pour more LIES into my ear, which you have obviously CONCOCTED like the evil witch you are to get me to believe you don’t want to take EVERYTHING from me?”
“No, it’s not that! There’s something you HAVE to know! And I ONLY just found out myself, too. And I want to tell you because I want there to be no more lies betw-...”
“No more lies? From you? Good thing I’m wearing my Thanksgiving corset or my sides would’ve split.”
“Sarah, for the LOVE of Baby Jesus, will you listen to me for just ONE minute???”
Sarah’s eyes turn to a slit.
“Ever the trickster, I see. Very well, since you have invoked His name. But for the LOVE of Baby Jesus, I will grant YOU thirty seconds! Better make them count! Better make them count so FANTASTICALLY well that it’d give you an instant Hall of Fame induction in that DUMB 30 second promo thing Johnny Bonecrusher has cursed the world with.”
“Thirty sec-? Well, that’ll have to do, I guess.”
“Tik-tok...”
“Ow em Gee, that reminds me, are YOU on Tik-Tok? Isn’t it great, like almost as cool as Instagram! I saw this totes awesomeballz video there the other day of this kitty who, errrr--...””
Angie snaps her fingers and shakes her head.
“No, focus, Angie. Look, a while back, after you got all mad at me for, errr… lying to you for 18 months...”
“Eighteen? Try FOREVER months!”
“Don’t interrupt, Sar, you promised me thirty seconds!”
“Which have long since expired.”
“Just LISTEN!! My mother came to me, and said that there were things that even she didn’t know. It’s about dad, Sar. Apparently, he---... Or I should say ‘we’... Aren’t his only ones.”
The look in Sarah’s eyes turns from hatred to curiosity, as she raises a single eyebrow.
“His only what, exactly? These better not be more lies, or I SWEAR to Baby Jesus and all of his apostles I will-”
“Kids! Children! Did you know? Surely you don’t, or I’d have known about it! Everybody would have!”
Sarah’s eyes of curiosity dart from side to side as she apparently has trouble processing this new information. But the look of suspicion is still prominent. She pauses for a second, then opens her mouth again.
“Let’s assume that for ONE second you aren’t trying to POISON my mind with more of your LIES? And that you’re axly speaking the truth. What PROOF do you have of this?”
“Look, my mom told me she got this letter in the mail. I’ve tried tracing it, well hired people to do that, but the trail went completely cold somewhere the 4th time it seems to have crossed Alaska and back to Nepal. I’ve no idea who sent it, but the effort to conceal its origin is simply too great for me to believe it’s some kind of hoax or prank.”
“Show me this letter of which you speak!”
Angelica’s camera moves over to the letter, which has been crumpled, folded and probably has survived a few burn attempts. But the cut out letters are still very much legible. She snaps a pic and transmits it directly, causing the letter to pop up on screen, clearly visible to Sarah.
“See? There’s another one out there, Sarah. And we HAVE to find him! I wanted you to know before we faced off in our match, because I want you to know I want to be honest with you from now on! I want to be the sisters we were never allowed to be. I was wrong, and dumb and stupid not to tell you the moment I knew, but I’ve never wanted to hurt you! I want to be family, and we just might have found another member, for better or worse. We need to get to the bottom of this, Sar. You and I! I’ve tried finding my fake dad to see what he knows, even tried finding Mister Hargrave, but they’re both gone up in smoke! And if you doubt my word on this, ask my mom or my agent, they’re the ones who’ve seen the letter also. And if you don’t believe them…?”
Sarah’s eyes look from the letters on the screen back straight into the camera.
“Then maybe ask Ava?”
Angelica waits for an answer, but gets none. All she sees is the slight slump in Sarah’s shoulders and a twinge of regret before she disconnects.
~~Epilogue~~
Aveline hums to herself as she absently picks at the creamed onion on her plate. She loathed the things, and never understood how ANYONE in Maine could eat them. She had spent much time as a “Mainer” or “Mainite” or whatever other silly name they had for themselves, and thankfully had preserved her taste for good food and not the trash that her husband’s state, il est ressuscité, seemed forever destined to eat. She would have demanded that the menu be inspired by French cuisine...possibly even roasting a few of those dreaded pigeons in the coup at the back of the Grey-Lacklan property...but she did not wish to be seen as the enemy tonight. That was Cotton’s job, after all.
“Want to know something interesting, Sid?”
Aveline looks out of the corner of her eye and sees the pleasantly dull look in her peer’s eye. The Mad Frenchwoman had been feeding her drinks to the plant beside her all evening, wishing to keep a sober eye while others found themselves heavy with drink, but Sid was too busy being Sid. The woman had downed half a bottle of bourbon! At least! So thick was the smell of it on her breath that she was surprised the woman’s words weren’t coming out that color!
“Global Dollars never expire.”
She pushes the onion around on her plate with her fork.
“I believe that my wrestling career is at an end. I believe that I have accomplished what I can within the ring. I am, and will forever be, the Champion of Chaos. But I still have MUCH to do.”
She pushes her plate away from her and turns to Sid.
“It cost me $2 million of my Global Dollars to book a match between our daughters and the duo of Vaughan and Cotton. $2 million dollars to instill a dose of much-needed chaos in the world. Chaos that Sarah can then use to help build the order that the world deserves.”
She leans back in her chair and raises her hands to her face. She reaches into her scarf and loosens it, relieving the pressure from her head while no one but a drunken Sid could see. The scarf falls away slightly to reveal dark brown hair filled with far more streaks of grey than a woman of 29 years should have. She sighs as she settles further down into her chair.
“A dear friend of mine recently remarked about how he has always played the long game...as well as delightful metaphors...and that has always been a hallmark of the House of Lacklan. Plan big and incorporate as we go. But sometimes we need a little push. And forcing Sarah to face her former friends...and forcing Kenzi to stand with her...is a fun push. And one the Consortium were all too happy to put into play once their favorite Chaos Champion asked to spend her money. In fact-”
Vous avez un message!
Aveline raises an eyebrow as she leans up and looks at the phone beside her untouched plate of creamed onions.
YOUR World’s Champion
How many children did my father have?
How many children did my father have?
She narrows her eyes in confusion...until she is sent a second message, this one a picture of a letter written with letters cut out from magazines and newspapers. She leans back again as her heart begins to beat loudly in her chest. Someone...someone very close to her...had said something they should not have. She sighs and reaches over to take the glass of bourbon from Sid’s hand...the woman was leaning back and lightly snoozing.
“Qui sème le vent récolte la tempête.”
She tosses the drink back, wincing as it burned its way down her throat, and slams the glass onto the table.
~~fin~~
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