OFF CAMERA
October 13, 2015-6:00 PM
Hawaii
Lyah Lindberg and Drake Green sit down into the Limo that was waiting for them at the airport. The inside of the limo is lavish, dimly lit, and spacious. Lyah takes a look around, smirking and punching Drake in the shoulder.
Drake: Lyah, what the hell? I told you, you hit like a dude.
Lyah: And? I felt like hitting you. But forreals, look around this place. There's champagne, I think its champagne. A foot rest.
Lyah kicks her feet up, making herself comfortable.
Lyah: And there's enough room that if we were two horny little high school kids, we could totally make out back here. You could cop a feel and everything. There's even a dark window thing to stop the creepy looking dude driving from seeing us. Dude, we should have sex here. Right now.
They both laugh at the obvious joke as Drake slides himself closer to Lyah. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close.
Drake: Sometimes I think you're a crazy person, but maybe that's why I'm attracted to you.
Lyah: I have to be crazy to be dating someone like three times older than me. I mean, you're literally on the verge of being able to legally retire due to old age. Viagra is about to be your new best friend.
Drake: That's funny, but so not true. But seriously, how do you feel? Being in Hawaii, heading to Puerto Rico for your first Supercard with SCW. I know a lot has gone on recently, but despite all of it, I want you to know I'm happy that you're here with me. The circumstances could have been better, but having you here is a good thing.
Drake grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand. Lyah looks down and smiles, her tired eyes then gaze up to Green.
Lyah: It feels...weird in a way. You have to remember, going from Oakland to San Francisco felt like a super big vacation to me. I never imagined I would ever be able to leave the country and see all of the beautiful places I've seen in the last few weeks. Hawaii? A girl like me has only dreamt of ever making it here. So far, so good.
Lyah's mind trails off. Thoughts of her four adoptive families, none of them working for various reasons. Thoughts of having recently found out who her birthmother is, disbelief that she's in Hawaii with a boyfriend who happens to be one of the most well respected men in her profession. All of it seemed impossible only months ago.
Lyah: Sometimes, I wonder if this is really my life, you know? Nothing has ever went this well for me. I'm waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out and yell 'You've just been PUNK'D, bitch!'
A quiet chuckle escapes the blonde's lips, as her eyes are down towards her feet, still kicked up. Drake continues rubbing the top of her hand.
Lyah: Then, I wake up next to you, in different countries every few days it seems like, and its reality. Me, Lyah f'n Lindberg, has an amazingly hot boyfriend, who also happens to be successful...and he has a great heart on top of it. Fuck, I'm being soft right now. Why haven't you cut me off yet?
Drake: Because you're rarely soft, and maybe I think it's cute. I'm trying to let it sink in, that you actually have a heart.
Drake laughs
Drake: This is your life, Lyah. I think back to when I first met you, at that mall, in the food court, whe-
Lyah: Where you were an asshole and stole my seat?
Drake: I was there first.
Lyah sticks out her tongue, as Drake continues.
Drake: As I was saying, back then, you were different. You were still beautiful, but you were rough around the edges. Your hair was messy, I remember you wore pretty much strictly black. You had the black nail polish that was chipped and peeling, dark makeup. Now, look at you. Your hair is as bright as your smile, the dark colors are replaced with actual colors, and you can wrestle now. I mean I won't take all of the credit for that, but...actually, I will. We worked hard, and now you're reaping the benefits of your hard work. This is all you, babe.
Drake lifts her hand up and snickers, staring at her fingers.
Drake: See? Pink nail polish again, someone is in a good mood.
Lyah: Dude, forget the nail polish...did you REALLY say my hair is as bright as my smile? Could you get any cornier?
Drake: Can't you ever take a compliment and say thank you rather than make it all awkward, jeez Lyah.
They both laugh, knowing it was true as the limo continues moving down the street at a normal pace.
Lyah: I'm ready for High Stakes though. My knee feels good, and honestly, I just hate that Veronica, bitch. She thinks we're still in high school and she's the popular girl. I hate the popular girls, probably because I never was one, but hey, that's irrelevant.
Drake: Just remember what I told you. Wrestle with confidence. If you go out there, are confident in yourself, and stick to whatever gameplan we come up with, you're going to win. Veronica and Traci are talented, but they don't have the potential that you have. The entire Bombshells division better watch out, 2016 is going to be your year, I can feel it.
Lyah: We'll see about that.
Lyah's phone rings, and she looks down, rummaging through her purse to find it. Drake takes advantage of her being distracted and pulls a small pill bottle out of his pocket. He pops it open and pours a few vicodin pills into his hand, before throwing them into his mouth. Lyah looks over as she misses her call, seeing Drake shove the bottle back into his pocket, before picking up a water bottle and swallowing the pills, grimacing afterwards in obvious pain.
Lyah: Umm, what the hell, dude? What did you just take and how many?
Drake: Its fine, Lyah. No biggie.
Lyah: No biggie? I saw you, man, you aren't as slick as you think you are. What the hell did you just take?
Drake: Its none of your damn business, ok?
He pulls his arm from around her and pulls the other hand away from hers, agitated.
Drake: I don't ask you a million fuckin' questions, so you can calm down a little.
Lyah's eyes open wide, her cheeks turn red in anger.
Lyah: Did you ever think I asked the question because I actually care about you? If it wasn't a big deal, you wouldn't have tried hiding it from me.
Drake's voice raises, the irritation more evident in his tone than before.
Drake: I said let it go, for fucks sake, I'm in a little bit of pain and took some medication. Its what us normal people do.
Lyah: Normal people? You're acting like an ass right now, dude.
Lyah reaches for his pocket but Drake pushes her hands away, his eyes stare daggers through her.
Drake: Stop it, I'm not fuckin' playing. I said its not a big deal. I'll tell the driver to pull over and you can walk the rest of the way to the hotel. Try me.
Lyah: Try you? I forgot, you're the almighty powerful Drake freakin Green, and I'm just along for the ride. I'll do you better, screw your ride, man. I've never been into limo's anyway.
Lyah takes off her seatbelt and leans forward, pounding on the glass between the driver and them. Drake pulls her back, trying to calm her down.
Drake: Lyah, what are you doing?
He whispers in a hushed tone, as she pulls away and bangs on it again. The window slowly slides open.
Lyah: Pull the car over.
Driver: But Mrs.Green, we are not yet at our destination.
Lyah: I'm not Mrs.Green, I'm Lyah Lindberg, not that it matters, but pull this damn car over. I'm walking.
Drake: Lyah, stop. For once, listen to reason. You're overreacting.
The car comes to a stop on the side of the road as Lyah pops open the door and glares back at him.
Lyah: You are a big superstar, Drake, and obviously I was bothering you. So take your stupid limo ride to the hotel, I'll be there when I get there.
She reaches in, grabbing her purse and then slams the door shut as Drake shakes his head, unsure of how this just happened. Lyah waits as the limo driver walks to the trunk and opens it. She reaches in and grabs her luggage and begins dragging it down the street as the driver gets back into the car. She gives the middle finger to Drake as the car slowly begins to pull away.
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OFF CAMERA
October 13, 2015-6:44 PM
Hawaii
Lyah has been walking for a few minutes, but pulling the luggage has been a struggle. She stops on the side of the road and holds her thumb up. Numerous cars pass her by, before finally, a red truck slowly pulls off to the side of the road and rolls the windows down.
Truck Driver: Where you goin' little lady?
Lyah rolls her eyes, thinking this guy already sounds like an idiot, but, she has no other option, refusing to give into Drake's request on twitter to call a cab that he would pay for. She shrugs.
Lyah: Honestly dude, I have no idea. Some fancy hotel I'm sure knowing Drake.
The man smiles, he's youthful, probably around early 30's. He's wearing a Los Angeles Lakers hat, his brown skin has stubble on it as he reaches over and opens the door. Lyah steps up and pulls her luggage with her, tucking it by her feet as she sits down. She sits her purse next to her luggage as her phone goes off.
Lyah: Three things. First, thanks for the ride. Second, we're going to the Hilton...of course. Third, if you act creepy in any way, I won't hesitate to punch you in the nose. Like, literally...right in your nose. I'm sure it would hurt, and I'm a wrestler so I know what I'm doing. Got it?
The man chuckles, nodding his head as he begins pulling back into traffic.
Truck Driver: My name is Rodney, and I know who you are. Lyah Lindberg, trained by my favorite wrestler ever, Drake Green.
Lyah laughs.
Lyah: Of course you know and coincidentally, like the asshole.
Rodney I thought you two were a thing? Isn't that why Mark Ward forced you to sign that contract?
Lyah: A thing? Dude, just say we're dating.
Lyah looks out of the window.
Lyah: But yes, we're dating. He's still an asshole though. Don't ask for any details because I won't give them.
Lyah begins feeling a little uncomfortable, not because she took a ride with a stranger, but just being around him...the awkwardness of him knowing her, when a few months ago, nobody knew who she was outside of Oakland. Her palms begin to sweat a little as she rubs them along her thighs and frantically rolls the window down.
Lyah: Dude, you drive like a girl. Step on the gas and lets go, I need some air.
Rodney shakes his head, and at this point wants to get her to the Hilton as quickly as possible. Within 10 minutes, they arrive outside of the Hilton. Lyah glances over at him, and forces a smile on her face, while although appreciative, she still feels awkward about the situation.
Lyah: Aloha dude, or whatever you guys say around here. Thanks for the ride, peace.
Lyah jumps out of the truck, collecting her luggage and purse and heads into the lobby. Immediately upon entering the lobby, she see's a few fans who again, recognize her. They approach her and she signs the autographs before finally making it to the front desk. She looks at the lady at the counter.
Lyah: I guess my room would be under my boyfriends name, I need a key please. Drake Green is the name.
Front Desk Employee: Of course, there was a note in the file to ask for identification.
Lyah stares at her blankly, before reluctantly going into her purse and pulling her ID out. She slams it down on the counter, raising her voice for theatrics.
Lyah: And the nobody girlfriend of the actor gets carded. SCORE!
The lady looks at Lyah like she's crazy before sliding the room key to her.
Front Desk Employee: Enjoy your stay Ms.Lindberg.
Lyah puts on a fake, cheery voice.
Lyah: You have a better day Miss hotel worker.
Lyah pulls her luggage and heads for the hotel room. She pauses outside of the room as she gets there. Slowly, she slides the key in and hears it unlock. She takes in a deep breath before entering, not knowing what to expect between her and Drake.
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ON CAMERA
So in a few days, I'm wrestling in my first ever supercard for SCW, High Stakes V. I'm excited, freakin' ecstatic actually, for more than one reason. First, come on, SCW is one of the biggest wrestling promotions in the world. The fact that this event is in Puerto Rico of all places is proof of that. Drake always tells me I need a tan, and I'm getting one this week, bet your sweet asscheeks that.
On top of being part of the event, I get to watch Drake go for his record setting third World title here. Witnessing my boyfriend, as annoying as he can be at times, make history? That's ridonkulously exciting. I've never seen history made really, being a foster kid has made sure of that, but things have changed.
Let me give you all a little background info on ya girl, me of course. A few months ago, I ran into Drake Green by chance. I brought him to a house party in Cali, and we exchanged information. That chance meeting led to me being trained to wrestle by Mr.Showtime himself, and then a few weeks later, yes, you heard that WEEKS, I was wrestling for a small time company in Portland. Things there were fun, I mean cmon they took a chance on me when nobody else would have probably, but they were rocky for me.
On the way to the ring for my first match, I was hit in the knee with a baseball bat. I could barely stand, but I refused to give up, because I'm dumb like that. So I stuck in there, and won that match by disqualification. Yay, win for Lyah. Unfortunately, again, I was dumb, and instead of taking time off to heal my injured knee, I kept wrestling. I suffered my first loss at the hand of one of my opponents, Veronica Taylor.
Yo, chica, dudette, Mean Girl, whatever you call yourself, congrats, you beat me when I was nearly a cripple. Things are different this time, girlfriend. I'm not one legsweep away from a wheelchair this time, I'm good to go. I've been watching you, because I actually research my opponent, and dude...you have run into some bad luck lately. In that same company you beat me in, you lost to Sasha Foote twice in the last few weeks. Ouch. You also were choked out by some dude, and for some reason, still think you're a big deal. Let me give you some free advice, Veronica. I know there's nothing in that head of yours, but try and wrap the air floating around in there around this, how about instead of whining and making excuses when you lose, you...you know, actually hit the gym and attempt to get better?
Every win gives you confidence, but every loss should teach you a lesson. If you get choked out, learn a counter, if you get knocked out, work on your speed to avoid it, have you been doing any of that? I make no excuses about you beating me before, I tapped out, hand was slapping the mat hard as hell, if I were you I would have cried because I even broke a nail doing it, but guess what? This is wrestling sweetheart. You're going to lose matches, you're going to break nails, and you better be able to take an ass kicking and get back up because that's what I plan on giving you at High Stakes V.
I don't like you, lets be clear on that. I think you're an arrogant little witch who runs around thinking this is high school. Its not high school, and you aren't prom queen. This is pro wrestling, and you're just another model who thinks you can use your looks to get ahead. That might have worked before, but not anymore.
I know you've won championships here, shit, SCW is pretty much the place you've found the most success and I applaud that, but there are different bombshells here now. We're hungry, I mean I'm always hungry literally, anyway that doesn't matter. Back to my point, we're hungry, and we want to earn a place here. I don't expect to be handed anything just because I'm dating Drake, I want to earn whatever I get. Your run with the Mean Girls was impressive, not because you could wrestle, but because somehow all of you put what little brains you had together and actually found success. What are you going to do now that you don't have that little clique around you anymore?
I dare you to try and tap me out like you did months ago, it won't happen. I've learned counters to whatever hold you try and put me in. Instead of bitching on twitter when I lost, like you do of course, I have been traveling the world, and learning to wrestle at the same time. Nothing like beaches and arm drags to keep a girl going.
Veronica's Secret is supposed to be this big deal, well here's NO SECRET, Veronica, that fine ass of yours? Its getting whipped in Puerto Rico. Bet the house on it. HIGH STAKES, BITCH!
And Traci Patterson, what up girl? Nothing personal, but at the Supercard, you're just another person in my way. Mark Ward brought me in to punish Drake, and probably now to punish me because I've told him numerous times to kiss my ass, but that doesn't matter here does it? What does matter is, I want to keep rubbing his face in the shitstorm he created, and how can I do that? By defying the odds and winning of course.
He wants to send me to the hospital, he wants Drake to lose focus for his big match, none of that is happening. Traci, if you have any common sense, you have to listen to me when I tell you, I really don't want to hurt you, I don't even know you. But we're in professional wrestling, so if I have to rip that blonde hair out, even though you're bigger and scarier than I am, I'll do it. Bigger and scarier has never scared me, remember I wrestled someone bigger than you in my first match here, Helena Ring. What happened in that match? I walked out with my hand raised. Why? Because I'm a fearless, well prepared, nothing to lose, ass kicker that's why.
Mark may have forced me to sign a contract here, but that contract is pretty lucrative, and for a girl that was homeless at this time last year, It's pretty fuckin' bad ass to have the opportunity that I have at High Stakes.
Lyah Lindberg may not be a household name, I might be 'Drake's Girlfriend' to most people still, but I'm going to change that in just a few days.
From Oakland with love, I'm beating you up. From Oakland with care, I'll rip out your hair. From Oakland to riches, I'm beating you bitches! Lyah Lindberg walks into High Stakes a supercard virgin, and guarantee I'll have heads turnin'. Want some? Come get it, but you'll never forget it...I'm stealing the show at High Stakes, just ask Drake.
Peace Bitches.
