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â€Sometimes your worst enemy is yourself. When you go to war with yourself, neither side ever truly wins.†–Delia, darling if you must
Turning, turning… swirling, swirling… spinning out of control. The camera moves around in a circle with a birds eye view of Delia who is sprawled out across her bed. She is floating in a sea of salmon pink sheets and comforters, with matching pillows strewn about. Turn, turn, turn… She has a hand across her chest in her pink nighty. Her chestnut hair is beautifully messy, spread out around her as her doe eyes are filled with tears. She doesn’t move, though, shy of her slow breaths. The tears gently roll down her cheeks as we pan out slowly with each loop we make. Her lips quiver as she stares blankly ahead. The tears begin to pool at her hand that is gently pressed against her face. Once the camera catches the king sized bed that is otherwise vacant, we focus on her broken stance. To her, the world has just ended. Everything that she held dear to her has disappeared forever. She finally gasps, giving in to the pain she feels on the inside as she rolls over onto her side. She rests her head on her forearm as her phone rings. She doesn’t even bother to look at it on her nightstand as “Dancin’ On My Own†by Robyn plays loudly, along with the vibration of the phone against the glass table top. We notice there is a picture of Liz Smalls on the phone. The song starts to loop before cutting off. A few seconds go by before there is a loud beep from the phone. Delia groans as she turns over and picks up the phone. She presses a few buttons before setting it back on the table.
Voicemail: You have… TWENTY TWO… new messages. To play your messages, press… *BEEP*
Delia slaps her hand against the phone, pressing the button before it is even mentioned. A few seconds later, there is some mumbling in French from her father. She growls and slaps the phone again, without even looking at it.
Voicemail: Message deleted. Next message…
Angelica: Look hosebeast… I know we had a fight and all, but you missed our team meeting tonight. What the heck, girl?
*Slap*
Voicemail: Message deleted… Next message…
Veronica: What is going on, like you make us come to these meetings all the time, and then you don’t show up? Your beef with Angelica is…
*Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap*
Delia continues to pound her phone until she’s pretty sure she’s near the end of the messages. She rolls over onto her side dramatically as the voicemail message alerts her that yet another message was deleted. The next one begins playing.
Liz: Heyyyyy sister… I missed that meeting a couple of days ago, but I heard from Veronica that you weren’t there either? Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you in a week, and I really wanted to talk to you about something, buuuuut I want to make sure you’re okay. Love ya big sis. Call me back, kay? Bye.
Liz’s unusually sweet voice echoes through Delia’s ears as she begins sobbing again. She covers her face as she is rolled over once more, crying into her pillows. There is a knock at her door, but she ignores it. There is another knock before the door creaks open slowly. Chris Darling pokes his head inside of the room and his eyes sadden as he looks at his daughter crying. He thinks it over for a second, but decides to enter the room. He closes the door softly behind him as he walks over toward her bed with concern written all over his face.
Chris: Ma chou petite? What is z’e matter, darling?
Delia: Go away, papa…
Delia’s voice is muffled by tears as well as the pillows. She refuses to even look up and show her face to him, but it is enough for him to sit down on the bed next to his daughter. Without her noticing, he picks up her phone and slides it into his jeans pocket.
Chris: Sorry, I cannot do. I will not leave my daughter crying ever again…
Delia: I don’t need your help. Go back to France!
Still muffled, the anger in her voice shines through despite the pillows. She sobs, but tries her best to choke it back. Chris softly brushes her hair away in an attempt to ease her pain somewhat. She brushes his hand away from her as another growl is heard.
Chris: It has taken me a short time to get to know my new daughter. Z’e girl who used to need her papa to ease her pain has not left. Z’e only difference is z’at my new daughter tries to push me away. I know z’at you don’t feel I am here for you, but I am.
Delia turns over, anger written over her dampened face. She grits her teeth as she stares at him with fire in her eyes for a second before she shrieks in his face. She begins trying to slap at him, but he simply deflects the strikes as if he were a professional fighter himself.
Delia: UGH! You haven’t tried to fuck Liz or Veronica yet! Why don’t you fly back to Arizona and give it a try?!
Chris: I am a lonely man, but I know I have crossed boundaries. I will no longer do z’is, I promise. I am here for you. You just need to talk to me.
Delia: No, I don’t! I don’t need to talk to anyone! I NEED to be left alone, because I’m tired of people…
Delia turns back over, giving up on trying to strike at her father. She rests her head on her arms as she tries to calm herself down. She takes sharp, shallow breaths at first, but they gradually become deeper. Her father goes back to gently brushing her long locks out of her face. She flicks her wrist back, knocking his hand away, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest, so she succumbs to the comfort.
Chris: I won’t make you talk to me, but I know z’at z’ere is a reason you wanted to leave your friends in Arizona in such a hurry.
Delia: Friends? Is z’at what you call it when people assault you and try to drown you? Isn’t z’at reason enough to leave?
Chris: It would be if it didn’t take you an entire day to decide to leave. A day where you disappeared, and didn’t come back until z’e next afternoon looking like a mess. I will only ask once, and leave it to you to decide to tell me or not to tell me… What happened?
Delia: I was mugged and raped by midget clowns wi’s knives in a dark alley behind a Kentucky Fried Chicken…
Chris cracks a smile, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He continues to stroke her hair gently, though Delia doesn’t miss his light chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief. Delia rolls her eyes as she sniffles and wipes a stray tear from her eyes.
Chris: Did you alert z’e as’orities?
Delia: It was no used. Z’ey were on z’e take. Apparently Arizona is Clown Country, so justice will not be served unfortunately.
Chris: Perhaps I will have to enact vigilante justice on all clowns in z’e state of Arizona? Should I wear a Batman costume, or should I go undercover as a clown myself?
Delia: Z’at would be too risky. I’ve already lost my virginity to z’e clowns. It would be a real fucker if I lost my fas’er to z’em too…
Chris laughs as he lightly taps his daughters arm for the use of profanity. She even cracks a smile herself, but it doesn’t last long before sadness takes over once again. She sighs as she turns slightly, grabbing onto her father’s hand. At this point, he was the only man that she could trust, and she is done trying to push him away as well.
Chris: If you don’t want to tell me, z’at is fine, but I do want to let you know z’at I am here for you, even if you wish to say nos’ing at all. I will no longer stand idly by as my daughter is sad.
Delia: Why should I be sad? I’ve got z’e whole world at my fingertips. I trend on Twitter daily. I am on magazine covers across z’e world. Do you know someone once told me z’at being on z’e cover of Italian Vogue was not an accomplishment because I wasn’t on z’e cover of Vogue in America?
Chris: But you were, no?
Delia: Ugh, right? Typical American swine who s’inks z’at z’ey are kings, when z’ey are clearly court jesters. If it didn’t happen in America, it doesn’t count, like America is z’e only place z’at matters… And z’en when I brought up z’e fact z’at I was on American Vogue, and posted z’e cover, he still insisted I was nos’ing… But it’s okay, because I was still trending while he was sitting at home, tweeting from his mos’er’s basement… Like go get laser eye surgery and a girlfriend and leave me alone.
Chris chuckles, but only being polite as he didn’t quite understand all of her adopted semi-valley girl speech. He tightens his grip on her hand for a moment before rubbing the top with his large thumb.
Delia: Not to mention z’at I have a huge match for z’e SCW Bombshell Championship z’at I’m obviously going to win. Like, obviously… Anyone who tries to deny it is just an idiot. I have everys’ing.
Chris: Z’en why are you so sad, darling?
Delia: I s’ought z’at you were only going to ask me once…
Chris: I said I would only ask you “What’s wrong?†once. Z’is was a different question entirely, darling.
Delia still refuses to look up at her father, as it is clear that she is hiding behind anger as a wall to hide her own shame for her actions just a few days earlier. She just sighs, still not wanting to admit to her father what she had done. Of all people, he was the last person she wanted to admit this to. She starts off as vague as she can.
Delia: Friday night was a bad night for me, papa… I feel as z’ough I made some mistakes z’at night. S’ings I cannot take back ever.
Chris: Nos’ing could be z’at bad, my darling Cordelia. Nos’ing worse z’an what you have already done, no?
Delia: Ugh! Is z’at supposed to make me feel better? Telling me z’at I am a horrible person who does terrible s’ings all z’e time? Why don’t you just put on a Vixen T-Shirt and cheer for her during my match on Sunday?
Chris closes his eyes, realizing the error of his ways. Unfortunately, he cannot take it back. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to think of a recovery from the bad wording. Finally, he just sighs as Delia brushes his hand off of her hand.
Chris: You know z’at is not what I meant.
Delia: How else is z’at supposed to come across? Even my own papa s’inks I am a terrible person, so I must be! Z’AT is why I left Arizona. I didn’t want to force anyone else to be around me. I’m like poison to people… S’ank you for z’e pep talk, but you can go now… Like now…
Delia turns slightly, tears welling back up in her eyes as Chris lowers his gaze to the floor. He runs his hand over his feathered hair as he stands up from the bed, still trying to think of a way to make up for his blunder.
Chris: I am such a dreadful beast of a fas’er. We should have dinner toges’er tonight, let s’ings calm down. Dress up in your finest for papa, will you not?
Delia: Ummm, why would I do z’at? No, find someone else because I’m never coming out of z’is room except to destroy Vixen inside of z’e ring…
Chris: It was not a request, darling. It was a demand disguised as a request. You will be ready by 8pm tonight…
Chris looks at Delia, trying to fake a stern expression, but it is very obvious he is still upset that his daughter is upset. However, he straightens up his posture as Delia scoffs, rolling her eyes with her back turned to him. He slowly walks to the door, disappearing behind it quietly as Delia just sits there, deep in thought…
[*Fade*]
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â€Sometimes things come when you least expect them. I find it is best when one expects nothing, so that every single thing that happens, winds up being a pleasant surprise.†–Delia, darling if you must…
We find ourselves focused in on a blank page for a few seconds. After some time passes, we see a hand come into view; one that has recently been manicured with French tips, and polished off with the finest polish ever… Nails by Liz. In the hand, there is a smaller piece of thicker paper. The hand presses it against the paper, running an extended index finger around the edges of what is now seen clearly as a picture of Gabriel Asar. There is a soft, feminine sigh as the hand draws a rough heart around his photo, making a couple of rounds with it.
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We take a moment to drink in his soft, feathered dark brown hair, and his equally dark, rich eyes. A drop of moisture finds its way next to the photo, lightly stained with black to let us know it is a tear. There is a soft sniffle, followed by a hard exhale. The hand goes back in motion before drawing a sharp, jagged crack in the heart, all the way to the bottom, and right through Gabriel’s face. There is another soft sniffle before the pen begins writing a few words next to it.
â€Dating this man would be worse than dating a woman. At least their periods end after seven days.â€
“Gabriel Asar has a different personality for every day of the month. Don’t trust him.â€
She feels like she could write a full page on the topic, but valor prevails as she simply slams the book shut. We quickly pan out to see Delia Darling sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed in a simple black dress with the light catching a few sequins. Her chestnut brown hair is pulled back tightly into an elegant bun, her bangs parted down the middle and tucked gently behind her ears, with curls at the end. She runs her hands down her smooth legs, checking to see if they need lotion. She holds her toes out, checking the Nails By Liz paint with a light hint of satisfaction under her tears. She wipes them away gently before walking over to the mirror where she takes a tissue and wipes away at the imperfections in her make up. She rests the tissue against her lips for a second, refusing to keep her father waiting for their dinner date any longer. She balls up the tissue and sets it on the make up table before turning on her heels and walking toward the door. She tries not to let her thoughts get the better of her any longer as she walks by several black and white art pieces of various models that Delia has looked up to during her career, none of which are recognizable. She comes to the living area, done in a sleek modern silver décor. She doesn’t give us enough time to fully take in the beauty before she walks over to the doors leading to her rooftop deck that overlooks the Las Vegas Strip. As she walks outside, she sees her father putting the finishing touches on the decorated table just about twenty feet away from the pool. Delia forces a smile of appreciation on her face as she watches him light a candle in the center.
Delia: It looks beautiful, fas’er. But, did you not ask me to dress in my finest clos’ing for dinner?
He smirks as he looks down to his “Welcome to Las Vegas†t-shirt, and sweat pants as if to ask her what she could ever be talking about. She just rolls her eyes as she walks toward the table, looking at the professional place settings, two of them. There is also a bottle of sparkling grape juice in a bucket of ice. Delia shakes her head, but her smile becomes much warmer as she looks to the red roses, pedals strewn about the table strategically. If she didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that her father was trying to romance her. She raises an eyebrow toward him as he looks over toward the door.
Chris: Darling, z’e meal needs to be tended to. Will you excuse me?
Delia goes to question him regarding the time, but he quickly scampers off to the house. Delia sighs as she walks over to the edge of the deck, looking over the side at the Las Vegas skyline, but even further past it, and to the moon. She misses the view of the stars at night, but otherwise, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect setting to lift her spirits than the lights. She is caught off guard as Calvin Harris begins playing over the outdoor speakers, even if it is softly. She lets out a laugh as if to say “Isn’t this like soooo outdated?†However, her smirk lets us know of her appreciation for the artist. The wind blows one side of her bangs free, and she reaches her hand up to brush it from out of her eyes when a hand beats her to it. She closes her eyes in appreciation, until the arm wraps around her waist gently, leaning up next to her. She looks extremely uncomfortable as she furls her brow, looking over toward her dad, only to see… it is not her dad. It is a friend of hers from Twitter, Eric Paisano. Most know him as Liz Smalls’ personal assistant, but Delia knows him as the one who picks her up when she’s feeling blue. However, right now, the look on her eyes becomes sinister as she pushes him away.
Delia: Excuse you, Mr. Paisano, but I do not recall inviting you tonight… I am to have dinner wi’s my fas’er, and no one else!
Eric looks confused for a second as he watches her turn her back to him, giving him her infamous cold shoulder. He takes a step toward her, but she meets it with another two steps forward.
Eric: Your father told me that he wanted to surprise you with a romantic dinner. I… I thought you would be happy?
He asks gently, without an accusatory tone in his voice. Delia snubs her nose into the air as the wind continues to blow her bangs across her face. However, she doesn’t care as she holds a hand up in the air toward him.
Delia: I’m sorry you did not get z’e hint when I told you z’at I am no good for you. I s’ought I made myself clear as Tiffany’s crystal…
Eric: Speaking of…
Eric walks over to the table where he picks up a bouquet of purple Irises and a small black box. He walks around to face Delia, handing the flowers to Delia. She looks at them and then throws them into the pool to rub salt into the wound. He opens the box to reveal a white gold necklace with a light pink ruby pendant in the middle. He laces it around her neck, though she deflects his hand once more. He sighs as Delia breaks away from him once more.
Delia: Irises are soooo fugly, like why would you bring them? And z’e necklace? Really? Like who are you trying to impress?
Eric: You? Besides, you told me that the purple Iris was the most beautiful flower, and it reminded you of the Goo Goo Dolls song from when you were a little girl. It was the first song you ever heard in English, and it was your first favorite song.
Delia can’t argue at all to this. She is honestly surprised that he remembered her saying this. She scoffs at his words, as she brushes past him and walks over toward the door. Her father walks out of the door quickly with a smile on her face.
Delia: You…! You invited… him? What gives you z’e right to do z’at?
Chris: Darling, one mustn’t be rude to one’s guest, no?
Delia: Z’is is true. I’ll finish cooking while you tend to your guest. I guess it makes sense since he is a friend of mine. Will you fuck him too?
Chris looks angered by such an accusation as Delia tries to brush past him. Eric rubs the back of his head uncomfortably as he debates whether to get involved in the argument or not, but he finds it best to keep quiet. Chris spins Delia around and leans in, speaking in French to her as she laughs in his face. He gets even more firm with whatever he is saying before pushing her toward the table with a bit of authority. She rolls her eyes as he walks to the door, turning to say a few words as she waves him off. Delia glares at Eric as she places her hands firmly on the back of her chair. Eric walks over quickly, gently brushing her hands off of it as he pulls it out for her. Delia plops down in the chair as he helps push her in closer to the table. He takes a seat across from her and sighs, trying to bring some light to the suddenly tense night.
Eric: Your father seems like a pretty caring man…
Delia: He tries to sleep wi’s my friends. He probably wanted me to romance you so he could have his way wi’s you also…
Eric laughs as if she were joking, but she does her best to assert that she is not, though it is completely untrue. She folds her arms across her chest as she snubs her nose up at him once more. He slowly shakes his head, running his hands over his face as he tries to find a new approach.
Eric: You have a very nice place here. I like the way you’ve decorated. It’s very… you!
He chuckles, but she is clearly not interested in his pleasantries. She flips her bangs behind her ears before crossing her arms once more. She looks at the silver watch wrapped around her wrist before yawning.
Delia: Would you look at z’e time? It’s almost 8:15. You must be exhausted from your flight. You don’t have to go home, but you cannot stay here…
Delia flicks her tongue at him with her last word as if spewing venom in his direction. She gives him a deadly glare as he reaches over to the grape juice. Once he reads “Welch’s†on the label, he sighs but opens it anyway, pouring a glass for Delia first, and then himself.
Eric: I had a nap on the plane. I could stay up here all night with you. Maybe you could even fall asleep in my arms again, under the star… er… beautiful night sky?
Delia: Or, I could just jump off of z’e roof and let people have a real celebration z’at I am finally gone? It would be for z’e best.
Eric: You’re so cute when you’re being morbidly dramatic. Drink up before it gets hot.
â€Drink up… Drink up… Drink up…â€
The words fade from Eric’s to her own. Her eyes almost glaze over as she sees herself wrapped around Drake Green with a bottle of Johnny Walker in one hand, and a glass in the other. She holds onto the cold glass with her teeth as she unhooks the back of her bra, pressing herself closely against Drake as he begins to rock her back and forth slowly. She moans as he kisses at her neck, and the moans get louder and louder as she loses all inhibition. Then, the blissful pain as she groans very, very loudly. A groan which echoes in her own ears as her brain whirls around…
Delia suddenly feels sick to her stomach as she stares into Eric’s deep blue eyes. She tries her best to hold it back, but it is no use as she leans down to the side, throwing up almost violently, which causes Eric to widen his eyes. He quickly leans out of his chair as he walks over, placing a hand on her shoulder as he holds her bangs back for her. She shrieks as she pushes his hands away once again. She grips at the napkin and wipes her mouth before taking a swig of water. She swishes it around before spitting it angrily onto the ground. She stands up and grabs the bottle of grape juice. She opens it up, tossing the cap behind her to where ever it may land. She presses it to her lips as a seductive look comes over her eyes. She walks toward Eric, who looks more confused than ever.
Delia: You want one s’ing, and only one s’ing. Who z’e fuck says I don’t want to… well, fuck? Take you in, chew you up, z’en spit you back out?
Eric rubs the back of his head as he lets out an almost nervous laugh. He slowly steps backward as Delia approaches like a cougar who is stalking her prey. She reaches back and pulls the pin out of her hair, letting it fall down her back as she runs her hand through it, ruffling it out. She continues to sashay closer to him with the bottle hanging from her fist. He trips over a pool lounger chair, and Delia uses this to straddle him. He looks amused, yet still confused. Delia leans down, lifting his chin up as she stares deep into his eyes.
Delia: I could blame z’e alcohol, except z’ere is none here. So why don’t we get down to z’e heart of z’e matter. I’m a dirty whore who has no regard for anyone’s heart. I didn’t care when I tempted Drake Green wi’s my feminine wiles just days ago. But, you men don’t care. You just want a place to stick your…
Chris: DELIA!!!
Delia chuckles heartily as she takes another drink from the bottle. She arches her back slightly, leaving Eric in a rather precarious position as he tries to focus on her father, so not to take full advantage of the situation.
Delia: Yes papa? Didn’t you wish to see your daughter showing her true colors? I mean, you were z’e first person to ever call me a dirty whore, no?
Eric: Um, maybe I should…
As Eric leans up, trying to politely get out of the chair, and even more, from this rather uncomfortable position, Delia firmly shoves him back as she hovers over him, planting her lips firmly against his. In a wild, passionate display, she flicks her lips against his, sliding her tongue into his mouth very strategically. However, Chris grabs Delia by the hair of the back of her head. He uses his grip only to remove her from Eric. Eric quickly gets up, nodding his head apologetically to Chris and then to Delia before scurrying off inside with tomato red cheeks. Tears stream down Delia’s face as she shoves him, screaming so loud that it is impossible to understand a word she is saying. He lets her shove him repeatedly before banging her fist into his chest. She soon begins shoving her whole body into him, trying to budge him. After about four attempts, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in closely as he holds her against him, cradling her head as she sobs loudly into his chest. She pounds at his chest still, but soon she melts into the embrace.
Chris: You forget what z’at fucking fool said to you nine years ago, do you understand me? He was a hypocrite who only wanted to spare you from his own mistakes. He wanted to please your mos’er, and show her what a man he was, but he was an idiot! He admits to his mistakes right now, and doesn’t expect you to forgive him, yet he is humbled by z’em now. Do you understand?
Delia continues to cry as she shakes her head against his chest. She looks up into his eyes as the tears roll down her cheeks. She tries to speak, but only a few words come out, yet they are the key.
Delia: But… you… right! I’m… whore! … slept with… Drake Green… revenge on Misty… I’m so… sorry…
He brushes a few rogue strands of hair from her face as he places his index finger to her lips. She looks down as he shushes her kindly. He shakes his head as he wipes the tears from around her eyes. He gently walks with her toward the table, noticing the vomit. He raises an eyebrow before placing a raft over it to hide it. He pulls out the chair as he looks back to see Eric still standing outside, but far enough away to give them their privacy. He looks back to Delia as he sets her down. He lifts her chin up slightly.
Chris: Chin up, darling. You made it s’rough life wi’sout me to wipe your tears for eight years. Let yourself be happy…
He flashes her the warmest smile imaginable as “Gypsy†by Lady Gaga plays over the speakers. She nods her head as she caches the last few tears, taking deep breaths to compose herself. Chris walks over to Eric and whispers. He nods his head and walks over to the pool where he grabs the floating flowers. He forces a sweet smile onto his face as he clears his throat. Delia laughs with embarrassment as she finally lets herself look into his eyes, for real this time. With the cool hues inside of them, they couldn’t be any warmer to her right now. He gives the flowers a few hard shakes to get the water off of them. They silently come to an understanding that they will “start overâ€.
Eric: Well hello there, beautiful.
Delia: *Gasp* Eric? Oh my, what a wonderful surprise!
Eric smiles wider, cheesing it up a bit as he comes closer to Delia. He hands her the flowers, with a bit of embarrassment on his face as she smells them. She ignores the chlorine smell, pretending to smell only the sweet scent.
Eric: I’m sorry, but they fell into a pool on my way here. I got you something.
Delia gasps again as he picks up the black Tiffany’s box again, though the necklace is on top. He opens it and closes it just as quickly as he wraps the necklace around her neck. He hooks the clasp as Delia holds the pendant between her fingers.
Delia: Oh, Eric… it is beautiful! You really shouldn’t have…
Eric: I wanted to. Besides, it was almost as beautiful as you, so I thought you should have it.
With those kind words, she plants a polite kiss on his cheek, playing it coyly for a moment. He lifts her head up and gives a simple, yet lingering kiss to her lips before he wraps around to his chair. He scoots in and picks up his glass, taking a small sip, nodding to Delia to do the same. She obliges, savoring the taste for a second.
Eric: Nice place you have here. It’s very…
Delia: Me?
The two share a chuckle before Chris comes out with two plates of salad. He sets one down in front of Delia, and the other in front of Eric. Delia goes to grab her napkin, but then she remembers what happened to it and she slowly retracts her hand. Eric hands her his own, and she smiles as she places it on her lap. The two begin eating, the night now officially renewed.
Delia: I just want to say… s’ank you, Eric. You are z’e sweetest, most caring person who has ever showed an interest in me. I would love to call you mine, but… As I said on Twitter, I am no good for you. Someone so kind… so gentle… deserves a woman who is less of a…
Eric: I deserve the best, I know. That is why I want to be with you. Anything that has happened before five minutes ago, I couldn’t care less about, except our time together. I want to make you my girl… That is, if you will…
Delia: Yes! Yes, Eric… I would love to be your girl.
Eric: And don’t you dare try to change, because I like you for who you are.
Eric laughs aloud, a bit of redness coming to his cheeks again. He reaches across the table as he scoops her hand up into his own. His much bigger hand wraps around hers as they savor the moment, just staring into each other’s eyes. Delia nearly sheds another tear, but this time, it is out of joy, instead of pain. With her free hand, she lifts a stray rose pedal to her nose, smelling it to only enhance the most imperfectly perfect night. As she looks at him, she can see that he’s the one who deserves a heart drawn around him, and so it appears as she does a mental freeze frame.
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[*Fade*]
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â€It is time to make myself happy. I won’t spend time dwelling on people who don’t matter in my life. That doesn’t mean that I won’t settle a few scores before I’m finished…†–Delia, darling if you must…
â€Fancy†by Iggy Azalea plays over the speakers of an urban hat shop inside of the local mall just outside of Las Vegas. People pass by the shop, on their way to their favorite stores, or to the food court to replenish for a day of shopping. However, we find ourselves focusing on a redheaded kid who looks like he is around 16 or 17. He is wearing a pair of black skinny jeans with about a hundred different chains hanging from the belt loops and pockets. There are plaid patches in random places. He is also wearing a vintage Marilyn Manson t-shirt, the image is faded. He is next to a girl who is clearly a decade younger than him. Her hair is jet black, and she is wearing Monster High apparel, a pink and white zebra print skirt with skull and crossbones, with pink bows atop the heads. She is also wearing a pair of pink Chuck Taylor’s as she tries her best to act twice her age, standing next to… her big brother? It is none other than Timmy and Eden Staggs we find ourselves watching. They start to pass the store, when Timmy leans down slightly, sighing as he looks back behind him. Eden keeps going, until Tim calls out to her.
Timmy: Eden, wait a minute!
Eden: What? Are you gonna say I’m your daughter again to flirt with the girl at Cinnabon?
Timmy rolls his eyes as she turns around in the middle of the hallway. He takes a deep breath before doing a little dance, known to man as the pee dance. Eden places her hands on her hips, sighing at him.
Eden: What? You did! It’s not my fault you look like you’re a little kid too…
Timmy: Ugh wait a minute, okay? I gotta go to the bathroom. Stand right there because you can’t come into the Men’s room.
Eden scrunches up her face in disgust as she folds her arms across her chest and plops against the wall, giving Timmy a good amount of attitude, which only causes him to wave in her direction in desperation. He disappears down a corridor as Eden scoots down closer to the hat store where the music is coming from. She looks back to the corridor her brother had just disappeared down, before thinking it over for a second. She walks ten feet to stand just outside of the door where she begins lightly swaying to the music, singing along out of tune.
Eden: â€I’m so fancy. You already know. I’m in the fast lane, from Ireland to Tokyo… I’m so fancy… Can’t you taste this code…â€
That’s when she realizes she doesn’t know the song as good as she thinks she does, and she resorts to humming while she dances. A couple in their early twenties walks by and smiles, pointing to Eden as she dances. They clap to encourage her, which only makes her go harder with it… as hard as a 6 year old can, at least. Suddenly, a hand reaches out of the door and lands on Eden’s shoulder. She turns around, scared as she starts to back up.
Eden: I’m NOT allowed to talk to you. My mommy says you’re a nasty b-word…
We turn slightly to see Delia standing at the door with a friendly smile on her face. However, as soon as this is said, her smile turns into a frown, acting as if the words Eden had just spoken had hurt her. She runs her hands down her white and pink ruffled skirt, finding a bit of irony in how similarly her and Eden are dressed, minus the childish decals. She brushes her straightened blonde hair behind her ear as she sighs.
Delia: Your mos’er and I don’t exactly see eye to eye, but I am a good friend of Timmy’s. He texted me and said z’at he wanted me to take you to get ice cream because he has…
Delia looks around, acting as if she had any concern for someone aside from herself. She leans down, and cups her hand around her mouth as if to share a secret with Eden, just loud enough for us to hear.
Delia: … diarrhea…
Eden: You sure do talk funny, lady. There’s a kid in my class who talks funny, and he has to see a speech ther… theri… someone who teaches him how to talk right. Did you think about trying it sometime?
Delia offers a chuckle as she turns away from Eden just long enough to roll her eyes and lightly scoff. She turns back, and as she does, that plastic smile comes back over her face. She tilts her head to the side slightly.
Delia: We mustn’t stand in everyone’s way. Have you decided what kind of ice cream you would like? I’m going to have praline’s and crème… Mmmm…
Eden: We WERE going to go to Claire’s because I was going to get some earrings and maybe a bracelet and…
Delia: Funny, he did not mention it. Why don’t we go there now?
Eden widens her eyes as if to let us know that she didn’t expect Delia to fall for her trick. However, she quickly straightens up as she begins walking toward Claire’s, just a few doors down. Delia quickly follows as she looks back over her shoulder, seeing that the coast is still clear. She rushes Eden along as they walk into the store. Inside of the store, “Bad Girl†by Avril Lavigne is playing and Eden begins banging her head to the edited version, which makes Delia bite her lip almost angrily.
Delia: You are definitely your mos’er’s daughter…
Eden: Duh! How else was I even born, weird lady?
Delia’s scowl lightens up slightly as she thinks to herself that there is still hope for Eden. She looks around, but her eyes stay almost completely locked on the door. Eden begins picking up a few things, going to try them on as Delia crosses her arms over her chest. Eden’s eyes widen as she rushes across the store and picks up a few more pieces of jewelry.
Eden: Timmy also said I could get my ears pierced again like mommy’s.
Delia: Do you really want to be like your mos’er? Like ugh, seriously?
Eden: No, I wanna be like Mommy Vixen. I don’t think anyone could be like my mommy. Plus, she cries at night in her sleep. I don’t wanna do that every night.
Delia scoffs at the mentioning of Vixen. However, before she can object, the rest of Eden’s rambling catches her attention. She smiles as her ears perk up. Eden turns around, holding up a few pairs of overly flashy earrings to her ears.
Eden: So are we doing this piercing or not? I’m a big girl who already has them in each ear, and I didn’t even cry.
Delia: Your mommy has to sign papers for z’at. I’m not your mommy, so I can’t. But, why don’t we buy z’ose s’ings you have? Except z’ose gaudy earrings, like ewww no freaking way.
Eden: They’re pretty though!
Delia quickly pulls the earrings from Eden’s grasp and throws them in the general direction that they belong before pulling Eden along to the cash register. She pulls the items from Eden’s hand and drops them on the counter, looking bored as the cashier comes up to them.
Cashier: Hiya! Did you guys find everything okay today?
Delia: Yes… just fine…
Delia couldn’t sound more disinterested, and the cashier gets the point as she begins ringing things up. She isn’t in a hurry as she checks tags and the price they ring up at. Delia scoffs and picks at her nails as she taps her foot.
Delia: Z’e faster, z’e better, darling… I have a little girl who wants some ice cream…
Delia looks over to Eden, feigning excitement as the cashier rolls her eyes at the back of Delia’s head. Eden dances to the music again, as the words dance around in Delia’s head for a moment. She smirks as the cashier clears her throat abruptly.
Cashier: $57.22 ma’am…
Delia fumbles around in her purse, pulling out a card that she drops onto the counter. The cashier glares at Delia, who doesn’t even seem to take notice. She runs the card, and then seconds later, sends the credit slip over to Delia with a pen. She scratches her signature and then snatches the card and the bag. She hands the bag to Eden who begins pulling items out, sliding them on excitedly. Delia looks around the door to see Timmy scanning the crowd. She stops and pulls Eden back inside as the cashier shouts out at her.
Cashier: Have a nice day ma’am…
She flips Delia off behind her back, doing a dance with it to emphasize her displeasure in a comical display. Delia remains unaware of it until she sees Timmy walking in the opposite direction. She breathes a sigh of relief before taking Eden by the hand and walking out. Eden continues to layer on the jewelry as they walk toward the food court. Delia looks down to see a good seven bracelets on each arm, and counting.
Delia: Ugh, who do you s’ink you are? Tessa Flannigan? Like z’ere is such s’ing as over accessorizing, you know?
Eden: Mommy Vixen says jewelry is appealing to the opposite… S-E-X… But she says it about daddy, so I hope that doesn’t have anything to do with the “S†word… I think she just means it makes you look pretty.
Delia: Z’at is not somes’ing she would know much about. Look, I am a model, and I know what is best.
Delia turns just in time to come to a stop at the Hagen Daas counter. Eden stops putting jewelry on just in time to stare in awe at the ice cream selection. She points to one, sure that it is what she wants, before the next one catches her eyes. Almost every flavor has this effect on her.
Cashier: What can I get for you?
Delia stares at the pimply faced young girl and she licks at her bottom lip, as she tries to choke back her next comment, but it is of no use.
Delia: How about a sanitary napkin for your face? Or perhaps some Proactiv?
Cashier: That’s kind of rude, and…
Eden: I wanna try Pralines and Crème too, Delia!
Delia smirks at the small nod of admiration of Delia, despite her upbringing. She laughs and then turns with a snarky expression toward the cashier.
Delia: Two triple scoops of Pralines and Crème, dipped cone w’is sprinkles, please and s’ank you basic…
The cashier rolls her eyes at Delia, this time catches the diva’s attention. She is about to say something when the girl begins scooping. Eden watches giddily as she claps her hands together. Delia accepts the first cone and hands it to Eden who goes right to it. She lets out a resounding “Mmmmmmmm!†Delia takes the next one and then immediately slides her card across the counter. She, too, takes a single lick, moaning at the delicious taste. She scribbles her signature on the credit slip before picking her card up. She leads Eden over toward a table in the center of everything, yet it is not crowded at all. Eden dumps the loot from Claire’s out onto the table as she is focused on her ice cream. Delia smirks, batting her eyelashes toward the camera.
Delia: Eden, would you like to speak to z’e cameras?
Eden: Hm?
She is clearly off in her own little world, not even noticing the cameras that rest in front of her. A smile rests on her face as Delia’s turns even more sinister. She reaches into her large purse and pulls out a pink bound book. She turns it over to reveal the ransom style lettering that reads “Burn Book†on the cover. She flips it open to a page where a picture of Vixen rests, already bound in the book. She stares at the picture and pulls out her pink sharpie pen.
<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/VixenBurnBook_zps38df51f8.png>
Delia begins scribbling words next to the picture. “Busted†“Overly inflated sense of self worth†are just a couple things we can quickly make out, before “Slept her way to a Triple Crown accomplishment.†Delia smirks wickedly as she looks up to the camera, turning the book to better show it off. She sets the marker pen down, uncapped as lets it all linger for a moment.
Delia: Do you see z’at, darling? No? Take it in. Take it all in, Ms. Lef… *ahem* Mrs. Staggs. Z’at is not somes’ing you hear very often, no? MRS. Staggs. Even Misty had enough sense to avoid z’at. No, take it one step furz’er, and realize even bat shit crazy Kittie dropped it quickly. Z’is poor girl here was born into it. She had no choice, but you? You knowingly accepted z’e name…
Delia continues to glare, as if she can feel Vixen’s blood boiling all the way from Arizona, or where ever she might be. She licks her bottom lip playfully as she runs her nails over the picture, though her eyes are still locked right onto the camera.
Delia: But, it does make sense. I mean, it was only a matter of time before people started to see you for who you really are. Gabriel Stevens told everyone, but people like to s’ink he’s a simple sycophant. He only said what no one else wanted to. You’re a slut, Vixen. No, you are a fils’y whore, who sold her body to win titles. You are a viper, who strikes when people have z’eir defenses down. You are what people say I am, yet somehow you have z’e fans who adore you.
Eden: Why are you cursing and talking about Mommy Vixen? It’s not very nice…
Delia: Because, Eden, I want people to see Mommy Vixen for who she really is. Gabriel might not have been able to correct z’e mistake, z’e true folly of seeing Mommy Vixen becoming z’e Bombshell Champion again. Odette Stevens might not have been able to restore any integrity to z’at belt, but I will succeed where z’e os’er have failed.
Eden: I can’t understand you, weird lady. Be nice, because she’s my bestest friend, okay?
Delia smiles sweetly as she reaches over across the table, ruffling Eden’s hair, before fixing it. After all, a lady, no matter what age, must always look her best when out in public. Delia almost feels sorry for her attire as it is, that she wants to take her over to Macy’s immediately to correct this problem, but she must return her focus to more pressing matters.
Delia: You see, Vixen… You can tell people z’at I cheat to win. You can tell everyone z’at I am not a s’reat to your belt since Mean Girls cannot interfere in title matches. You can fool yourself, but z’is is not some dream world where z’e good guy always wins. Z’is is reality. I proved z’is point to Roxi Johnson at Into Z’e Void III, and I will prove it again z’is Sunday. I will prove z’at you are protected in SCW. I will destroy you, and I will take your title. It is about time z’e title became pretty again… er, was it ever? Sorry bout it…
Delia chuckles as she looks over to Eden, who tries to tune it out since Delia had gifted her all of this wonderful jewelry that no one else would have ever thought about giving to her. Delia winks at Eden for her silence before she continues.
Delia: You see, Vixen… You slept your way to z’e Bombshell Championship. You relied on your NXT buddies when z’ey actually mattered. You relied on your new husband to put in a good word for you, and who kept you relevant while he was still such. Now, he is nos’ing. Your only saving grace has been his uncle. All bullshit politics aside, I’m going to take z’e only s’ing z’at makes you relevant right now. Z’at ugly piece of gold and leas’er, and a saggy old man who no longer has as much pull as he would like to s’ink. Z’en, your sham of a marriage will be all for naught. Z’en, how will you explain to Eden and Timmy z’at anos’er woman has walked out on z’eir washed up fas’er?
Eden looks up, panic written on her face at Delia’s latest revelation. She tries not to show tears to her new “friend†but the worry is very apparent, and soon, a few stray tears roll down her cheek as she whines. Delia gently taps Eden’s hand to console her as she looks back to the camera with devious intent.
Delia: Or, will you do what her own mos’er did, and leave him to explain z’at part? It is z’e easy way, which you are known for, darling… If he didn’t look like he was one step away from a rehab center, he might appeal to me like a mangled puppy dog. I feel sorry for him, but not even at my worst, would I ever consider such a s’ing… But, it does leave one to wonder if he might just have enough and jump off of a roof z’is time. Timmy is old enough, but what about Eden? She’s so young, and impressionable. She is at z’e perfect age to mold into a future Mean Girl, no? I mean, it would take some serious work, given her genetic ineptitude, and z’e influences presently in her life, but I’ve never strayed away from a good challenge…
Delia lends a snarky smirk to the camera while Eden stands up from the table. Although she is very serious, her words make Delia laugh out loud.
Eden: Is Timmy done pooping yet? I wanna go home…
She breathes in heavily as she turns toward the direction they came from. Delia gives Eden a stern look and motions back to the seat. Eden sits down quickly, but she is shaking and trying her best not to cry any harder as she continues to whine.
Delia: I must admit, Vixen… I want to destroy you. I want to destroy your legacy. But, truthfully, z’is…
Delia motions around in a circle with her hands, showing off the entire situation, including Eden’s involvement.
Delia: All of z’is? It isn’t truly personal. At least, not on my part. You and I, we are monsters of z’e same breed. You just hide it oh so much better z’an I could ever dream of. Z’en again, I don’t care what people s’ink of me, unlike you… However, as I was saying, it isn’t personal between us. You are just part of z’e master plan. I have to go s’rough you, and take what you have, to fully get at z’e one person who matters… and I use z’e term loosely. Misty holds you in high regard for some reason. Even z’ough you picked up her leftovers, romantic and family wise. Maybe it is because she feels bad for being such a shitty mos’er, and she is grateful z’at you get along nicely wi’s Eden. I don’t know, z’at whole situation is like totally FUBAR’d… But, you are a warning to her to back z’e fuck off of Mean Girls business. What I have done so far…
Delia nods over to Eden’s tear-soaked face as she clutches at her new jewelry, trying to distract herself from Delia’s harsh words. Delia uses the gesture to help accentuate her point.
Delia: … will be nos’ing by comparison. No offense to Angelica, Tessa, and Holly, but z’ey don’t hold a candle to my relentless nature. Right now, it is a game, but z’e game is about to reach a new level. But, in case you don’t s’ink z’at I am being serious… watch what I do to Vixen on Sunday at Violent Conduct II. Watch very, very closely. But, please do us bo’s a favor, and don’t let Eden watch. I would hate for her to learn z’at you were right about me all along… Sorry bout it, ladies…
Delia closes the book and tucks it back into her purse. She takes another lick of her melting ice cream before getting up. She checks her phone, and with a very obviously exaggerated expression, she gasps.
Delia: Would you look at z’at, Eden? Timmy didn’t know you were gone after all! I must have read his text wrong. We’d better hurry up and find him!
Delia scoots Eden along as she whimpers. Delia spots Timmy talking to someone at the Hagen Daas kiosk. She places a hand on her chest as she turns away from him. Doing her best damsel in distress impression, she raises her voice, allowing her accent to linger thick in the air.
Delia: Excuse me! Everyone? Z’is little girl cannot find her older bros’er! Somebody, please help us? Please be so kind!
Timmy comes rushing up, his face red, however he sighs in relief as he scoops Eden up. He looks to Delia with a thankful expression. She looks at her phone and nods before jogging off. She smirks as she disappears from the scene, leaving Timmy to wonder about her tear soaked face, and the bag from Claire’s…
[*Fade*]
