G.reatest R.omantical I.ntimate M.emoire E.xplained
January 1st, 2020
Golden Ring Casino at MidnightThat’s where I saw him. Everyone inside was kissing their loved one. They were blowing their kazoos and popping their party poppers. They were clinking their glasses together to ring in the new year. It was 2020, and everything promised to be so much brighter than 2019. As we know right now, it was all a crock of shit. And that’s why this story is perfect for a night with a bottle of wine and some chocolates on this fine quarantine night.
Where was I? Oh yeah, the shirtless bad boy on the balcony, smoking a cigarette while watching the fireworks go off over the Las Vegas Strip. He was clearly not bound by social cues to stand inside and pretend to be happy for all of the happy, optimistic couples inside. But the tattoos on his face should have been my first clue to that. Something about him begged me to walk closer, even though everything about him screamed to get the fuck away.
I’ve never been one to listen to the more obvious suggestions of the universe, so I start walking up to him. The events of this evening so far are replaying through my head. Like how I put on this itchy cocktail dress to look cute for the evening. Or how I put on pounds of makeup in hopes that no one would recognize me as Gerald Shepherd’s daughter. I was quite frankly tired of hiding myself, but I was so stuck in the position I was in. I come up next to Javier and lean on the balcony banister and ask him.
Me: Can I get one of those?
Javier looked over to me and breathed out a big choking cloud of smoke through his nose like a dragon. I cough on it while I brush the black hair of my wig out of my face.
Javi: You sure you can handle it, princesa?
He sent shivers down my spine when he looked at me. There was this dead look behind his eyes and it shook me to my core. I kept my sunglasses up, because I was not about to blow my cover to this dirtbag. It was a new year, and it was a new me. At least for the night. I snerred at Javi and held out my hand.
Me: You would be surprised what I can handle.
How does a normal girl whose father is not a cult leader respond to that? I slap his ass and give it a good grab. It was the first ass I ever touched and I instantly blushed. Javi bites at his bottom lip and hands me a cigarette. He is even a gentleman when he pulls out his lighter and lights it for me. I take my first drag of a freaking cigarette ever. It was like making out with Jesus, for one second, until I begin coughing uncontrollably. Javi takes the cigarette from my hand and drops it to the ground. He puts it out with his work boot as he scoots it across the ground. He pats my back and hands me a bottled water. I throw it back at him.
Me: You… will… not… roofie… me…
I’m gasping for air now and while i try to yell at Javi, it comes out hoarse and dry. He cracks the seal on the bottle and hands it back to me.
Javi: I don’t need to roofie a bitch. I get mines, chica. Drink up, Esther.
I want to fight him on it and deny my identity, but my lungs hurt so bad. I bring the bottle to my lips and slowly drink the whole thing, stopping only to catch my breath through my nose. It’s like he poisoned me, except I can’t get mad because I asked for it. Once the bottle is gone, my chest finally stops heaving in and out. He puts his hand on my back as he breathes out into the wind so that it is carried across the building tops. It was kind of sweet actually. But then is when I decide to question him.
Me: So how did you know it was me? Is my hair messed up? Was the makeup too basic? The dress looks a little too slutty Little House on the Prairie, doesn’t it?
Javi laughs and rubs my shoulder. I would never have admitted it then, but there was something comforting about him and being in his arms. Even though it was cold outside, he was shirtless, and was still warm. It felt nice, and I sank into it a little.
Javi: I mean, the dress is what you just called it. “Slutty Little House on the Prairie”. But I didn’t think nothing of it. I knew it when I seen you off in the corner watching everyone like you never been to a party before. I also knew it when I seen you checking me out every two seconds.
Me: I was not checking you out every two seconds! I didn’t even know you were here until I came out here and saw you!
Javi smirks and reaches down to hold me around the small of my back. He pulls me in closer but I’m frustrated by his arrogance right now.
Javi: I didn’t say nothing about checking me out tonight. We been at shows together for damn near a year now. I know where your eyes was. I felt it burning away at any clothes I had on, and the one time you acted like you didn’t see me walk out the shower in the Women’s Locker Room just because.
Me: When was… Where…?
It wasn’t that hard to actually remember. You don’t forget a sight like… that. Not so easily anyway. As a matter of fact, when I looked at Javier Gonzalez, I saw him as his former self. No tattoos. More hair on his head. That charming smile that could dazzle the panties off of any woman. Like it was almost too easy for him, and he just got bored with it, so he turned himself into a complete freak. I realized that me thinking about it made it so much more obvious that the image was still traveling through my brain. I turn away and watch the fireworks explode in the sky above us.
Me: So why are you out here, anyway? I thought you loved partying and drinking and doing stuff that degenerate sinners enjoy doing.
Javi looked down at me for a second and for a second there was life in his chest. I felt a heartbeat. He smiled and laughed, but knew it couldn’t last forever, so he looked out at the fireworks with me.
Javi: I do. And I hate to break it to you, being all naive and shit, but this ain’t that. This is a bunch of people showing off their piece of ass for the world to see so that they can feel better about who they be boning in the next hour or two. For me, I don’t know who I’m gonna be boning.
I can’t help but feel disgusted for the first time during this conversation. “Boning” is such a crude way of putting the most sacred relation a man and a woman can have. I might not want to buy into my father’s bullshit anymore at that point, but I wasn’t ready to let it go entirely.
Javi: What did you expect a degenerate sinner to say? “I don’t know who I’m going to lay down on the $500 a night bed with, surrounded by lit candles, Celine Dion playing over the surround sound speakers as I join bodies with my soulmate for the evening?”
Me: Shut up…
I elbow him in the side and then break out of his arms. I’d rather be cold than covered by GRIME, literally. I pull my coat closed around me and watch as he takes a final drag from his cigarette. I watch him wet his lips before blowing the smoke out in a big cloud. He flicks the cigarette out to the strip below and he looks down at me.
Javi: You ask a lot of questions, Princess Jesus. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you was looking to do some pretty bad things tonight.
Me: In your wildest dreams, Javier.
Javi: Baby girl, I am living the dream. Always. It’s another hundred of you lining up to find out what Javi G Bux is working with. I don’t need to ask you, because another fresh daddy’s girl is gonna walk up to me and offer it to me. I was just trying to do you a favor. You give off that aura that you just trying to piss off Papa Shepherd.
It was right there that I got mad. How dare he tell me what to think, what to feel. How dare he misinterpret me so badly. I mean, he wasn’t right about it at all. My father had nothing to do with why I snuck out of my room at the hotel. It had nothing to do with the fact that I put on a wig and sunglasses and that little black dress I always kept hidden inside of a Sooner’s hoodie. It had nothing to do with the make up, the glass of champagne, the high heels, the pantyhose, the cigarette, the fact that my lips were all over Javier’s… Oh shit…
My arms were up around his neck, and my lips were pressed against his. Eventually they learned to follow his rather aggressive lead. My hands were all over his tattooed chest as he ripped the back of my dress. He lifted me up onto the edge of the balcony, and those little black panties were soon dangling from between his teeth. But I wasn’t ready for that. I pulled on them so that his face was back up against mine. I never realized tongues were such a big part of kissing. He went for his belt buckle and I bit onto his bottom lip so that he screamed a little bit into my mouth.
Me: Not here.
I kicked him in the chest with my heel and he backed off, only to reach out of nowhere and pull me by the wig and shove his tongue down my throat. The finale of the fireworks could not have happened at a more appropriate time, because I think I had just become a woman without even knowing it. My legs shook and I could do nothing more than suck on his tongue like it was mine and I was trying to get it back. He finally wrestles it away and looks into my eyes, his made of pure fire now.
Javi: My friends are in my room right now so I have no privacy.
I wanted to offer for him to come back to my room, but my parents were in the next room over. What if I was a loud one? What if the headboard knocked around a lot like in the movies? I couldn’t go back there. So I had to call it quits for the night and figure out another time to do this. It just couldn’t be tonight.
Me: I don’t care…
Or not. Apparently he had read me like a book, and I wanted it so badly that I was willing to turn myself into just another jezebel. We snuck off to the room, and it smelled so weird in there. Like a skunk on fire, and somebody tried to put it out with tequila and rum and beer and hot wings and pizza. Plus body odor. Everyone walked around wearing masks. There was loud rap music blasting, but you could only barely hear it over all the talking, or shouting. He walked me into the room and all of those X’d out eyes turned to look at me with surprise. I realized my disguise wasn’t nearly as clever as I hoped it would be. They all shouted at me, some laughed, and some just shook their heads. But none of them expected to see me there. That much was for sure. He brought me to the bed, which was pulled out right into the middle of the large suite. There was already some guy in a red mask who was with some chick until Javi clicked his teeth and winked. He began talking in some mumbled language and he and the girl started yelling. She yelled back in broken English, but he kicked his head back to tell her to scram.
Javi looked down at him and he stood up and looked me up and down. He said something to Javi, like “Nyet…” but Javi nodded. He looked back to me as Red began taking his jacket off. He peeled his shirt off next and I couldn’t stop staring at him without even seeing his face. My heart skipped a beat.
Javi: I know we was vibing a little bit, chica, but… how bad do you wanna piss your daddy off?
I had to think about it for a second. Of course I wasn’t going to give something so sacred to two men. Not even if both men had incredibly ripped bodies, especially their heaving chests that were like oiled up Greek statues. And… well, I can’t get more detailed than that. All I can tell you is what my answer was.
Me: Really… really bad…
The crowd around me cheered so loudly that I almost went deaf. They threw little round rubber things at us that were slippery and weird feeling. Red and Javi helped me out of my dress, and the rest was history. Javier is such a great guy, because he brought me together with my soulmate. If he had not been the social lubricant that I so desperately needed, then I would never have found Andrey, the love of my life, and the best person to help me piss off my religious Republican father. Other than being a complete asshat tool douchebag, he’s a pretty great guy. Almost human, even. Almost.
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G.alantly R.etrojecting I.nelaborate M.undane E.fforts
Saturday 4/4/2020
Staggs DungeonSorry for that interruption. Bitches can sure talk, can’t they. Yeah, I’m a matchmaker who thinks nothing for myself. Now that we established that fucked up fairytale, let's move on to now. The day where I just couldn’t take being trapped inside of the hotel for another minute. I had to get out and break a sweat, but nothing walking around that hotel was looking good for that, so I went to Staggs Dungeon to do it. I hit up the bags for a bit. Once I beat them up, I went on to lifting. I did free weights, bench, and even squats. I got a reputation to uphold back there after all. My muscles are on fire now, and my body says it’s time to call it, but my mind just ain’t ready. In the spirit of fuck what everyone tells me to do, I look over and see Erik Staggs himself breaking a sweat at the bench, with Spike Staggs spotting him. I was so focused on being in that zone that I didn’t notice they was in here, and have no idea for how long. It was obviously long enough for them to have traces of sweat going down their grey and black GRIME cut off shirts. I walk up to them and rub my chin as I laugh.
Me: I ain’t know you guys actually worked out here. I thought it was just that you all owned and operated it.
Spike looks over at me and continues spotting Erik, who finishes his rep, but neither one says anything at first. Spike gives Erik a look, and it’s like these vatos was telepathic or something, like Spike’s role in that Empire City: Chronicles of Hexx show. They having a full on conversation in their heads. Erik shakes his head and Spike hands him a bottle of water. I look at them like to ask if I was interrupting, or… Erik finally stops and looks over at me after taking a swig of the water.
Erik: Who are you?
The seriousness on his face, I found myself just waiting for him to crack a smile and laugh, but he didn’t. He just got up and moved out of the way to spray down the equipment and wipe it down thoroughly, twice. He then steps out of the way as Spike shoulder checks me. I’m about to go ham on this puta when he sits down on the bench and glares at me, but I know that wouldn’t be the wisest move right this second as far as future plans go.
Me: You can’t be serious. Javier Gonzalez. Your former GRIME World Nightmare Champion. Former SCU Underground and Combat Champion. Blast From the Past 2020 Finals competitor. Teaming with Kate Steele to take on Evie Jordan and Mark Cross.
Erik’s face lights up and he smacks Spike’s shoulder when he hears something that triggers, I don’t know, an actual reaction.
Erik: He’s fighting the actual Underground Champion. That guy is lucky he’s still able to walk up the ring steps after what GRIME has put him through.
Spike: This one thinks he’s got a chance. He’s going against Evie Jordan and the guy who is somehow the champion that he used to be. That was a lot of the word “former” there.
I am starting to lose my cool but I try to show some kind of respect to an SCW legend and a management wizard, but it’s getting pretty fucking hard here.
Erik: A lot of “former” was said there. I wonder if we could tempt Mark Cross over to GRIME. We could use some heavy hitters like that.
Me: Mark “The Dragonfart” Cross ain’t shit! He ain’t half the champ I was, and he won’t ever come close to my shine.
Spike: So much past tense with this one. “Was” isn’t now. I had to learn that lesson the hard way when people stopped giving a single fuck about me four years ago.
Erik shrugs his shoulders and looks up to the picture of him hanging up next to Vixen and Jamie Staggs, and Erik’s own picture in the lineup as well.
Erik: You started a gym. With my financial backing and connections, you’ve put out plenty of successful talents over the years. Even before your “shine” faded. What has this guy done?
That’s it, motherfuckers.
Me: Oh, what have
I done? Let’s see. I’m still wrestling in a motherfuckin’ ring right now. That’s a start. I got titles under my belt that neither of you will ever have. With all due respect, Spike, you’re right. Ain’t nobody talkin’ about Spike Staggs now. When Tim hit his stride, everybody forgot about Papa Staggs.
Spike just shrugs. There is a sense of pride at talk about Tim. However, the disrespect I gave out was not going to go unnoticed when he stands up from the bench and towers over me when he looks down.
Spike: I have held titles you could only dream of ever touching let alone carrying, little boy. So I suggest you check that attitude at the door and show some goddamn respect in my house.
I hold my hands up in the air and take a step back and turn away from him. But then I go for the cheap shot, but he grabs my arm and catches me good in the side of the head. He is as good as his rep so I step back.
Me: I will tell you one thing that I’m gonna do that you ain’t done, Staggs. I’m gonna win the Blast From the Past tournament. I’m gonna come out on the opposite side of Evie.
I take a few steps backward toward the locker room. Me and Spike share a glare that seems to go on for an hour. As I turn around to go to the locker room, I hear that low, emotionless voice of Erik Staggs.
Erik: You fucking better, Javi. You’re the future of GRIME Wrestling. We’re counting on you having a victory over both Jordan’s, something no one in SCU will ever be able to hold over your head.
That’s when I realized that these two was just giving me shit until I stepped over the line with Spike. I ain’t about to apologize though. I just look back over my shoulder at Erik, enough to see him staring back at me. I walk into the locker room and open up my locker to grab a towel. I pat at where I got punched by Spike for a second and then wipe off my entire face. I pull my bag out and set it on the bench just in time to see a black figure standing there. I jump a little until they click on their mask to show off the crimson color. She walks around the bench and looks at me with a chuckle.
Crimson: You really put your foot in your mouth out there, didn’t you?
I shrug my shoulder as I take a seat on the bench. I look up at Crimson.
Me: Yeah. What can I say? Not everyone is into my charming personality. Especially you...
Crimson: Your personality is about as shiny as a dusty window of an abandoned building.
Me: Ouch, mami! You ain’t gotta cut so deep. Them claws coming out now. Did I hit a little too close to home?
Crimson doesn’t say anything. Instead she just walks over to the bench facing me and she takes a seat, crossing her legs like she a proper lady and shit.
Crimson: I think the point they were trying to make is that you need to be ready to do the same. Let the claws out and get ready for the fight of your life, because I hate to tell you that it only gets crazier from here.
Me: Nah, you got it all wrong. Winning the tournament is the end game, baby. That trophy is the biggest prize. Plenty of former champs like that one out there couldn’t even win the tournament no matter how hard they tried. Winning the title is only the second place prize here.
Crimson: Interesting pay to think about it.
I give her my old famous smile that probably only looks creepy with the new look but she doesn’t move an inch.
Me: Think about it. Mark Cross got his title right now, but only because we keep letting him keep it. If Donna let me have my rematch that I am owed, he wouldn’t stand a fucking chance, and everybody knows it. He’s nothing but an extended placeholder champion until they produce some other puke who is almost half as good as me, but twice as good as Cross. Only they can’t, because SCU is nothing but a toilet full of insignificant pieces of shit floating around aimlessly, miserably waiting for that flush, yo.
Crimson acts as if she is hitting brush strokes in the air in a great impression of a mime painting a masterpiece.
Crimson: I love the way you paint such a vivid picture with your words. It’s just so sad that your words ring so true.
Me: I didn’t realize it when I was the Underground Champion, but being the champion of SCU really ain’t an accomplishment. Who do they got? Shooter Reed? He’s a pinche who got little to no skill. He’s a J2H without the guidance of a legend to make him worth a damn. Father Gerald or Brother David Shepherd? Jesus freaks with a sadistic streak, but are better suited for the Hardcore division instead of being the top champion. Stewart Mason, Earl Lockyer, Helluva Bottom Carter, Mz. Holly Wood? Washed up has beens or never was’es. Face it, they won’t ever replace me right.
Crimson: You’re pretty confident of that, aren’t you?
Me: Hell yeah I am. Why shouldn’t I be? It’s not like it’s not so obviously true. So for Mark Cross to think he got any real claim over me besides a cheap victory that was nothing more than a fluke, then he needs a goddamn reality check. I beat bigger and badder threats during my time as the champ. And I beat him the first time we fought. He just got lucky that Donna wanted to see my fail, so she stacked the odds against me. And even still, I almost overcame that until his little bitch stuck her nose into the match and busted me over the head with a cast.
I explain and vent everything that I had been holding inside since that fateful night on January 3rd in Dothan, Alabama.
Me: I’m not gonna say that Mark Cross isn’t talented. I don’t need to. Anyone with eyes can see that except Mark Ward and Christian Underwood, who decided to sign him to a deal before someone as talented as me. How the fuck does that happen?
Crimson: How does Liz Smalls, Amanda Cortez, Laura Jackson, Veronica Taylor, Katherine Kensington, Marisol Hawkes, Tiami Tyler, Vista Kills, Brooklyn Carter, or worst of all, Kandi Washington happen? The world is a mystery, and some answers we will just never find.
We reach across to each other and hit a high five because who the hell doesn’t like a 4th wall moment? It’s still in character. I love you Liz!
Me: But seriously, how does that dipshit get called up? Is it some sort of good ole boys thing? Should I start talking like chit chit cheerio, and ‘ello Govna? Should I put some marbles in my mouth and start doing my impersonation of a British leprechaun like Mickey Carroll? Is that how I get ahead in this place? Because it sure as fuck isn’t wrestling talent or else I would be squatting over Ben Jordan right fucking now, taking a shit on his head.
Crimson makes a swirl motion with her fingers that makes me and anyone with half a brain think of a soft serve ice cream cone.
Me: The only thing that gets you over more than sounding like Ben Jordan is fucking Ben Jordan. Right Mrs. Blast From the Past 2017? Former World Bombshell Champion. Former Bombshell Tag Team Champion, who never actually lost the belt, but gave it up because she went to fucking Celeste North and get a tarot reading or some shit that said “Evie, you will win the SCW Bombshell Championship in six weeks time. It would be wise to release your tag title now or suffer dire consequences…” Like the cold shoulder from Melody, because how would she ever deal without being able to basically stay the tag champion when you won the Bombshell championship? If you did not release it of your own cognizance, then how would you ever be able to plan for your other buddy buddy to come back and basically take over your portion of the tag titles, with nothing but a mere tag team battle royal standing in the way? I hope you tipped your fortune teller well, you arrogant piece of shit, sad excuse for a wrestler and destroyer of divisions.
Crimson covers the mouth space of her mask and I can see her eyes peeking out from behind the mask. They beg me to stop where I am and I feel like I should, but I just can’t.
Me: So go ahead, Mark Cross, Evie Jordan. Make your shitty little shirts. Get your hashtags trending. Babysit for Mikah. Get her coffee. Make your shit eating little sideways comments disguised as friendly jests. Bitch out like you always do. But do me a favor and spare us real wrestlers who actually stand a chance to do something of value in the business. Your delusions of grandeur that winning is actually an option for you are just that, putas. Save the victory speeches for the victorious ones, myself and Diamond. Don’t embarrass yourselves, because that’s mine and Pink’s job, chingados. Blast From the Past 2020 belongs to us, and nothing’s gonna stop us from accomplishing that goal.
Crimson: I kind of love you.
We bring it in for a hug until my hands start to wander, and I get slapped on the other side of the face now. These goddamn slaps in Staggs Dungeon got me thinking it’s a different kind of dungeon. But this time and this one causes me to slip on a random puddle of water on the floor and my head connects with the bench. The room vibrates a few times as it starts to get dark. I look up to see Crimson take her mask off, but before I can make out her face, the lights go entirely out...
