Sitting on the rooftop of my newly purchased property in Venice, California I looked down upon the canals. Unable to sleep, I ventured upstairs to watch the sunrise. Holding a cigarette in my left hand, I watch the somewhat psychotic early morning exercisers run along the paths lining the waterways. It was a normal in the ocean-side community as best as I could guess.
I inhaled deeply on my cigarette, the nicotine hitting my lungs was exhilarating. I’d been trying to quit before… I couldn’t finish the thought. Not now, now I inhaled that sweet nicotine and thrived on it.
In a few short days, I was heading to Uprising to defend the Action Wrestling Tag Team Championships with Lissie Hope. We hadn’t been as around each other much since Robbie passed, save for the funeral. God, I missed being near her almost as much as I miss nuzzling my face into Robbie’s chest.
Yet, here I was keeping secrets. She has her thing against Mack. And her secret beau. Her smile tells me she is liking that dick.
I chuckle.
I could do with getting rocked. I haven’t had anything but myself since before Evolution. That’s an incredible drought for me. I want to grind someone’s face right now.
I finish my cigarette, flicking it away.
Here I am selfishly thinking about how I need to seek the pleasure of company, when I’ve been keeping so many secrets from my best, my only friend, in this godforsaken business.
I need to speak with Lissie.
I have to tell her the truth.
Pulling my cell phone from the left ass-cheek pocket of my jeans, I dial her number. I put the phone to my ear, patiently listening to the dial tone. I hate waiting. I like to get what I want when I want it. Right now, I want Lissie with me, so I can unburden myself with the truth I need to reveal to her.
I get voicemail. Impatiently, I wait to leave her a message. “Hey Lis, it’s Adz. Hit me up when ya get ‘ere fah Uprisin’, we need ta catch up ‘fore tha show. Some stuff I gotta tell ya.”
Hanging up and returning the phone to my pocket. I light another cigarette, taking a drag, and grabbing my cell in a state of psychosis. I feel the uncontrollable need to message Lissie. I hurriedly type away:
Lis. Need to talk ASAP.
Call me when here.
I don’t get a chance to return the phone to my pocket before I receive a message back.
Sure
She must be busy… or with someone.
I take another drag of my cigarette, losing myself in thought. How am I going to tell Lissie?
I watch as the sun continues to rise in the eastern sky.
______________________________
“Ya swimmin’ big fish wit’ tha big fish now.”
“Ya fuckin’ guppies.”
“AberSlane, everythin’ that ya got right now, it all comes down ta me an’ Lis. Tha title shot, tha spotlight shinin’ down, all tha eyez on ya. We gave it to ya. Tha fact, that ya name is on tha tip’a anyone’s tongue is down ta tha fact that the dippy blonde cunt of ya partnership decided ta utter some verbal fuckin’ diarrohea, pissin’ us off. An’ Stu, bein’ tha good fuckin’ boy scout; tryin’ ta play good samaritan, tryin’ ta keep peace.”
“Yeh, ya fuckin’ pissed us off. Got ya’self a dose’a fifteen minutes. Got ya’self closer ta tha gold than ya have ‘fore. Well, ‘cept fah tha times ya were sharin’ golden showers in tha changerooms.”
“So fah that, Cuntface an’ Stu I say well fuckin’ played.”
“But see, the fuckin’ thing is, once this shit kicked off so did tha fuckin’ countdown an’ at Uprisin’ ya time is up.”
“Chk Chk Boom.”
“Tha Swallowin’ is gonna show tha two’a ya’s an’ everyone else just why we are tha best fuckin’ tag team champions, not just in Action, but in all’a wrestlin’…”
“Evah.”
“And fuckin’ guppies like ya cunts are just gonna be drownin’ in a bathtub like disobedient housewives. I tell ya, I’m gonna enjoy takin’ a good fuckin’ grip of ya necks an’ pinnin’ ya under tha surface feel ya kick an’ struggle. Listenin’ ta ya gurgle an’ blubber ‘til ya got nothin’ left.”
“Then, I’m gonna toss ya limp fuckin’ bodies in tha trash like everythin’ else that doesn’t belong where tha big fish swim. No matter which way ya wanna cut it, AberSlane, no matter which way ya fuckin’ spin ya place in the food chain it’s always gonna come out tha same way.”
“Ya a pair’a bottom feeders. An’ we apex predators. Ya tha guppies to our great white shark, so ta fuckin speak. So, yeh, ya get ya fuckin’ chance ta swim against tha tide an’ separate ya’selves from tha pack. Which, in it’s fuckin’ self is ya fuckin’ problem, cause now ya stuck ya neck out. By splittin’ away from tha generic masses, by bein’ more than a carbon copy’a tha masses ya done gone an’ set our fuckin’ sonar off an’ now we comin’ fah ya.”
“An’ we hungry.”
“It’s time fah a fuckin’ meal. An’ we swimmin’ straight fah those two brave li’l guppies that thought they were better ‘an tha rest’a em. Head’a the pack, tha first ta get chomped down upon, that’s ya cunts. We gonna chew ya up, spit out tha shit an’ swallow tha rest. We gonna leave tha bodies’a Stu an’ his dippy blonde cunt’a girlfriend behind; broken, upside-down an’ stinkin’ up tha waterways ya never shoulda entered. But us, AberSlane, what’re we doin? Tha Swallowin’ swimmin’ onta our next fuckin’ meal.”
“Still fuckin’ hungry.”
______________________________
“You’re really warm.”
His chest heaved up and down with my cheek pressed against his flesh. Our heartbeats were in sync as he toyed with the outline of my ear, brushing the curls from my eyes. I felt like I was staring into his soul when I saw my reflection in his pupils.
“You’ve been cold for a long time.”
My heart skipped a beat. I think I was blushing a little bit; I could feel my face burning red as my lip curled between my sharp teeth. I couldn’t stop it; this excitement. I wanted to stop; this was too soon to be letting anyone else in. But the heart craves color. It resists bursting like an ink pen soiling the canvas.
“There was a darkness to you. For as long as I’ve known you, and I know we haven’t been close by any means -- but now that I’ve been getting to know you these last few weeks, I’m seeing that light shining through.”
I couldn’t process the magnitude of this observation. He could sense my trepidation, and knew just how to create levity and break down my guard.
“Like… you know, when Poppy was devastated and lost all her color but Branch sang that ‘True Colors’ song and she came back to life?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Trolls, babe.”
I slapped him on the chest and kissed his bicep.
“You’re such a tool.”
“You use me like a tool.”
“I really didn’t think Addy would’ve rubbed off on you by proxy,” I said, laughing. But I needed to say something else. "When I hear you speak to people, you’re always so… genuine. Like you’ve got everyone eating out the palm of your hand. You’ve got a way with words. It’s really captivating.”
“Well, now I feel like a moron for the dick joke.”
Giggling, I pushed myself up using his abdomen. He playfully gasped and grabbed at my hand but I quickly scurried away, pulling his long undershirt over my body. It landed halfway below my thigh, my large tattoo playing peak-a-boo with him. I pulled open the curtain and the sun illuminated the room.
“You look sexy in my shirt,” he teased. “But you’re glowing in the morning light.”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about,” I said, leaning over to taste his lips. “You know how to pull me in. I’m learning that if I’m falling, you’ll reach out and grab me.”
“Like this?” he replied, and he pulled me on top of him. He adjusted my body until I was straddled over his torso.
“Again?” I asked, reaching down. But my phone started vibrating on the nightstand. He pulled my face into his but my eyes caught the name on the screen. “Wait,” I pleaded. “It’s Addy; it could be important.”
“Let it ring,” he contested, planting his wet lips on mine, and I obliged. He was very convincing. A few seconds later, the phone lit up again, this time with a text message.
Lis. Need to talk ASAP.
Call me when here.
“That’s strange,” I said. I quickly replied to her and got up from the bed. “I should probably get going anyway.” He watched as I dressed.
“Lissie?” he asked. “When are you gonna tell her about us?”
“I don’t know,” I said, embarrassed. “I don’t like keeping secrets.”
“Then why are you?”
“How am I supposed to tell my partner that I fucked one of our opponents before we won the Tag Team titles?”
“Just like that,” he said. “Though I’d like to think we mean a little more than fuck-buddies.”
“Of course,” I said, attempting to sound reassuring.
“You should tell her today,” he said. “Before Amelia beats you to the punch.”
______________________________
ABERSLANE!
How daunting! How formidable!
We were totally runnin’ this tag-team division - knockin’ off future Hall of Famers like KOS and Kemp and Balfore - ascending to the highest peak while Crow and those Adler bitches moved the goalposts to succeed me as All-In 2020. It seems to be a common thread; we get through with someone, forcin’ ‘em to up-their-game to even compete with us, they carry on to other successes. That’s progress. Action Wrestling has a tag team to depend on. The ultimate game-changers. The ultimate Champion-creators.
Action Wrestling… you’re welcome.
But here’s the thing. We make mistakes, too. There was an error in our judgement, and we let our emotions control us. When we saw Amelia Abernathy prance her flat ass to the ring and shit on the legacy of Raging Dead, while his family and fans and friends were there to witness it, we couldn’t let that shit slide. We took that shit personal. And we gave her an undeserved platform, ‘cause before we chased her out of the ring, no one gave a flying fuck about Amelia Abernathy or the wannabe trainer tethered to her like an abused dog she smacks on the nose.
AberSlane… you’re fuckin’ welcome.
For reasons beyond comprehension, we gave you a fuckin’ seat at the big kid’s table, and now you’re tryin’ your damndest to steal the food off our plates. But you won’t be able to eat when that big fuckin’ mouth of yours is sewn shut, Amelia. You’re gon’ have to fire the Botox injector and hire a surgeon after this is all done, because this may be all fun and games for you --holdin’ onto secrets you think you know and tryin’ to drive a wedge between the Swallowing -- but this is a matter of life and death for me, cunt.
We take pride in building up champions to follow us. But we’re goin’ to take great joy in cuttin’ you at the ankles before you even begin. Because you’re not a fuckin’ talent, Amelia. There ain’t an ounce of talent in your blood, in your bones, or in your heart. You’re a leech, suckin’ Slane dry -- and not in the fun way. And it won’t be long before he realizes it and cuts your ho ass loose.
Stuart, why are you devoting your energy to save this broad? Y’know firsthand she ain’t worth a dick in the ring. She ain’t gonna make nothin’ easier for you when you step in the ring with two of the premiere wrestlers in this organization. This bitch ain’t a sponge who can be educated; she’s a rag to wipe the nut off your stomach. She’ll make countless mistakes and you’ll have to correct them. She offers you nothin’ in and out of the ring besides a pocket-full of cash and some bizarre satisfaction of seein’ a pupil grow under your tutelage. But you hitched your cart to the wrong wagon, Stuart - this one is gon’ pull you off the cliff. Just steppin’ in the ring with us raised your profile; you would still be huntin’ for a tag partner if it wasn’t for us givin’ you the time of day. But she ain’t learnin’ from you; this bitch is incapable of it. Some people are beyond salvation, Stuart, and I’m sorry that you’re gon’ have to learn this the hard way.
I hope you at least got a blowie for your troubles since her mouth is the only thing that’s fuckin’ useful.
So tell us, Stuey… does she swallow?
‘Cause we all know she fuckin’ sucks.
______________________________
Digging my toes into the sand, feeling the tiny grains fill the space between them. I allow my eyes to gaze over the glistening, muscly men working out diligently in the warmth of summer at Venice’s famed Muscle Beach. My eyes trace the curvature of each muscle as I mentally devour each one as a piece of meat to be tenderized, tasted and well, swallowed.
I laugh internally at my pun.
Truthfully, I feel a little ashamed thinking this way, so soon after Robbie, but I am a woman and I have needs - I ain’t ashamed of that. Stuart Slane is man I could break in two, if he wasn’t such a fucking dweeb - shame.
I clearly haven’t hidden my desires very well, a couple of the meatheads are smiling and looking in my direction as they seem to be more interested in giving me a show than actually working out. Pity their faces are reminiscent of the puke on the bottom of the toilet bowl, the morning after a hard night, a bit like a dippy blonde cunt’s face will look after I carve my initials into her cheeks.
Animalistic urges finally overwhelm my sensibilities, lifting my curvy ass off the concrete block that doubled as my seat, my horniness is interrupted by a familiar voice.
“When are you going to tell Elisabeth, little Adelaide.” fucking Gina Bigliani, her voice cuts to bone.
I stop admiring my personal Adonis’, turning my attention to the bitch who's made my life a living hell from the moment I put her entire family under the care of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
I force a smile.
“So, Adelaide, are you going to tell Elisabeth that you killed her brother.” she baits me.
“I didn’t kill him…” I mumble, trailing off.
“Sure as you drove your heel into the back of his skull, you killed him.” she continues taunting me.
I’m playing with knuckles on the right hand. It’s a nervous reaction. I think about how it would feel to hear her trachea pop under the pressure of my thumbs. I bring myself back to reality.
“We don’t need this dance. I know ya ordered tha hit on Robbie. I will kill ya fah it. But first, I’m gonna kill each one’a those cunts. I’m gonna feed their heads ta ya kids, ‘fore I leave ya blonde fuckin’ wig on a pike in ya front yard fah all ya neighbors ta see.” I finished with a growl.
She laughs. I snap. I lunge, putting my hands around her throat. I have every intention of choking the life from her body. I can feel her struggle against my drive when I'm stopped by the grip of hands on my shoulders.
Twisting my head like Linda Blair to see that I’m being held by White and Gibson, fucking pigs.
"Do it for Lissie." she says smiling wickedly.
"Not now." White whispers as Gina saunters away.
I shake myself free from their grip, contemplating to chase after Gina when the thick tension is cut by the sound of my phone.
30 Minutes. Where we meeting?
I type a reply, while they watch.
______________________________Lissie and Adelaide pulled up to the colossal mansion looming proudly in the shade of towering trees. Lissie’s eyes grew in amazement and Addy observed with caution as she stepped onto the winding stonepath, the ivy growing through the crevices tickling her ankles.
“Holy shit,” Lissie said.
“Yeh.”
Adelaide unlocked the door and Lissie followed her in.
“You rented an empty AirBNB?”
The space was even more enormous than it appeared with minimal furniture. Lissie’s confusion was partly cemented with denial. Adelaide couldn’t tell her just yet.
How do we even prepare for a tag-team match where only one opponent is even worth a damn?
How ‘ya fuckin’ prepare for tha ass-fuckin’ ‘ya about ta take?
It’s pretty sad that we’re even in this situation. Y’know, I take a look at the two main-events this weekend and I see eleven faces goin’ for the briefcase that I took to new heights, and the belt that we should be fightin’ for. Shit, this year’s Uprising shoulda been our fuckin’ Evolution, and instead we’re stuck with these no-name bitches. Here we are, havin’ to waste our breath and our energy against a scoutmaster desperate for a partner and the heartless yuppie with a shark-toothed pussy.
Nothin’ shark ‘bout tha blonde cunt ‘cept fah tha blood in tha bath one week a month. She ain’t capable’a standin’ on her own. Fact, neither is he. She’s got less talent than shit under me fingernails. An’ tha other one well fuck he ain’t allowed within five hundred yards’a any fuckin’ school in three countries. The pair’a em tried ta find a shortcut ta tha summit’a Action. One’a ‘em runnin’ her mouth, other one wit’ cuddlin’ make-a-wish kids a little too tight. But tha problem wit’ AberSlane tryin’ ta fast-track their ascent - they failed ta put in tha work ta make sure they got supplies. A bit’a OUR emotion got ‘em ta base camp, but in their star struck eyes they failed ta see that we gonna be tha same avalanche that buries in a sea’a white nothin’.
Buried. Forgotten. Worthless. Just like Logan.
Not a waste’a our time. But still a fuckin’ decimation.
What a fuckin’ disappointment this is. Spendin’ our time on these clowns ‘cause they think they earned somethin’ with an empty win over a pair of jobbers. This fuckin’ house we’re standin’ in is about as empty as double-A-cup’s championship chances… career aspirations… her soul.
Shit. Tha only fuckin’ thing inside’a that dippy blonde cunt is Stu an’ it’s only ‘cause she’s got titties like an overweight pubsecent boy. Scoutmaster can’t partner up wit’ what he likes - tha law prevents that fuckin’ shit an’ tha dippy cunt is just as dry as’a sphincter wit’out lube, she’s a substitute for his fave port in’a storm.
Second-rate root.
Second-rate partner.
Second-rate opponent.
Y’know, I don’t know why this hack is even pretendin’ like she can hang with us, comin’ into OUR realm and tryin’ to prove… I dunno… what, exactly? That she’s not a soul-suckin’, clout-chasin’ leech on society?
Compared ta us, she just’a ‘tard at tha pettin’ zoo.
If the whole “wrestling thing” don’t work out for Amelia’s punk-ass, I hear Jaice Wilds is recruiting.
Is Stu allowed near kids?
Is Amelia allowed near a church? This soulless bitch’ll ignite the second she walks in.
But, that’s ‘cause we lit her up.
She sure ain’t settin’ no wrestling rings on fire. Bitch is so beyond her depth that she’s about to get fuckin’ swallowed up like Slane’s little swimmers. I don’t know why she’s even here, tryin’ to do what we do. You don’t see me goin’ into Starbucks and tryin’a out-Latte those kids. Stay in your fuckin’ lane, Amelia, and out of our fuckin’ ring.
Same shit applies ta ya too, Stu. Ya ain’t belong rollin’ wit’ Tha Swallowin’. Ya spent most ya fuckin’ existence playing wit’ li’l boys in tha woods where no one can see an’ ya suddenly expect ta step inta tha ring an’ handle some real fuckin’ women like me an’ Lis. Buck, it ain’t gonna happen. We ain’t minds ta be easily moulded, nah we got our own ‘pinions. No, impressin’ us, but rubbin’ ya cock in our ass cracks showin’ us how ta tie knots. Scout, we gonna tie ya in knots ‘til ya can’t jerk ya’self outta ‘em.
I expected a little more out of you, Stuey. That HR stunt you pulled showed just how nutless you’ve become. Wasn’t always that way; cominginto Havoc as a secret entrant, buildin’ your own hype since no one’ll do it for ‘ya. Hopin’ for shock-and-awe, and found crickets chirpin’ in the stands. You were a piss break, a drink refill, a changin’ of a fuckin’ diaper. And you should know all ‘bout diapers these days since Amelia’s got her strap-on so far up your ass that she says ‘bounce, bitch!’ and you say ‘how fast?’ Now you summon us to meetings and can’t even look a bitch in her eye. Coward.
So it don’t fuckin’ matter, bitch… dunno why you care about who Lissie fuckin’...
Yeah… about that…
AberSlane, bottom line, y’all fucked. Four fingers deep.______________________________
JULY 24 | I know this feeling too well.
The aroma of bourbon swelled from my pores and I could feel my breath tickle my nostrils. I felt like I was looking through a kaleidoscope as I twirled the empty rocks glass in my fingers and the neon lights of the bar reflected off the bottles behind him.
“One more,” I slurred.
“Are you sure?” the bartender asked. I nodded my head and my eyes became heavier. “I can’t do it, sweetheart. Do you need help getting to your room?”
I pulled the Kwik-Trip receipt out of my pocket and squinted my eyes to read the number 306. I braced myself on the bar and helped myself up, waving his assistance off. Punching the thirtieth-floor button, the ascent seemed to last a lifetime. I was walking on quicksand as I approached the room and slammed my knuckles on the hardwood. I didn’t expect him to answer as quickly as he did.
“Hey Lis--” a pause. His face contorts as he processes my condition. Like a broken levee, my eyes flooded the carpet below. “Whoa, whoa. You okay?”
I threw my arms around his neck and let him catch me, begging him to drag me to the bed.
“No, this isn’t happening,” he ordered. “Not like this.”
“Why am I not good enough?” I begged. “Why does everybody leave me?”
“What happened to Robbie isn’t your fault,” he assured. “You need to let yourself off the hook.”
“Fuck me. Please.”
“No, Lissie. Go to sleep.” I pushed him, but my strength was null and void from the effects of the bourbon. He scooped me into his arms and I slapped him across the face, but he was unfazed. He gently laid me onto the bed and covered me up to the neck in the blanket. I let the pillows soak up my tears.
“I’m afraid to sleep now,” I admitted. “What if I don't wake up?”
“Go to sleep.”
MORNING | I woke up. Somehow, I woke up.
I looked over at the chair and there he was, the gentle sounds of slumber emanating from his nostrils.
I leaned over his tired body and softly kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, Spencer,” I whispered.
_______________________
‘Wait, hol’ up. ‘Ya fuckin’ Spency?’
‘I’m dating Spencer. …I think.’
‘That’s nuts, girl,” she said. And she laughed as she pulled her Baddest Bitch Crown out of a storage box. “So we both got ourselves a BBC.”
“Oh god.”
“Lis,” a pause. “I bought this house.”
“I noticed! How exciting!"
“...with Robbie.”
Silence filled the room.
“I see.”