Chapter 72: Shame
As we get older we change. Some change more than others, but there are certain core elements of our personalities that tend to stay intact. The way you think and the way you feel can certainly change as you adapt and learn. And there is a larger level of growth from when you are younger. The way you think when you are a teenager is certainly not the same way you are going to think or feel when you enter your late 20s or your 30s.
And as resistant as I have been to change, I have to be completely honest and admit that I like the person I have become. I have not changed as much as others probably have or would like me to, but I have pushed myself to think differently and to feel differently. Especially when I think about the things that I have done in the past.
The Kayla Richards of old was definitely a different proposition.
Even now in my professional life, I have been called ruthless. I get called out for the things that I say and the things that I do. I get called an opportunist, a bully, and sometimes even an evil genius. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, they are all completely and utterly correct. They are right. In the realm of professional wrestling, I have done everything I can to cultivate this aura around me. And believe me, I know how heavy that word is these days. Teenagers and people in their early 20s love to use the word “aura” like it is some kind of stamp of approval. A buzzword to throw around when they think something is entertaining or they connect with it.
But real aura is when everyone around you stops when you enter a room. It is when the air feels different. It is when the personalities and feelings of everyone in the general vicinity shift. That is real aura. That is real power. And it’s something that so many of you have no idea what it is to hold. The responsibility of having that level of power, that level of fame, that level of respect. It is not something to be taken lightly. And it is something that has taken me years to come to terms with.
Because when I was younger, I had no idea what it meant to have that responsibility or to respect it.
When I was in my very early 20s, I went chasing respect. But I didn’t know what real respect was. I thought fear was respect. And now, as I stop thinking only about my future and I know what it is to have a true partner in life—as I look forward to getting married to a man who has made me feel the self-worth I never had before—I can’t help but think about the mistakes that I’ve made.
”They fucked up…”
Jace walked next to me, matching my pace. That meant he was taking slow but large strides while my legs moved faster. His giant 6’7” frame made me look even smaller by comparison. ”How? How do you fuck up a simple collection?” I remember grinding my teeth together, trying to push all of the anger I felt down. Jace, on the other hand, just smiled and looked to the side. He was trying to contain his amusement. That was one of the worst parts about him. He knew damn well how to get under my skin and how to instigate me.
He would poke and prod and push, doing everything he could to get me riled up. He had to get me riled up as the partner of a Gypsy Prince. It was my job to help enforce the codes and practices that the business side of things needed to adhere to. You could screw up a lot of things and still be forgiven in the family. But one of the things that you were never forgiven for was fucking with the money. ”I don’t know, but they did. These little bitches had one job. Walk in, put their hand out, and get the money. And if anyone tried to stop them, then they just had to be persuasive.”
”Persuasive.” I replied, parroting Jace. We moved toward one of the large buildings—the female barracks. The housing for the women who had not yet been claimed. Jace folded his arms and leaned against the wall outside. I took a deep breath and raised my foot before kicking the door in. The sound of the wooden panels smashing into the bricks behind made everyone in the room jump. The two girls who had fucked up raised their eyebrows. I could see the fear in their eyes; I could feel it radiating from them.
”N-no p-please. Jertisarel! Jertisarel! (Forgive! Forgive!)” The younger one, the one who didn’t really know any better, slid across the floor to the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. The other one—the one who we had put in charge of this little endeavour—sat back in the chair. Eyes full of fear as her hands went up in a defensive motion.
I shook my head. I could feel Jace’s eyes on me. I stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing a handful of black hair, pulling her head back so she could look me in the eyes. The green in them burned like emeralds in the sun. I knew I must’ve looked menacing. ”Tu ćorri ćhej (You stupid bitch)”. Her breathing started becoming laboured. Her hands shook. My lip curled, but there was a twang of guilt in my heart. Because I remembered, not long before this, that’s how I looked.
My hand relaxed, and her hair untangled from my fingers. I took a step back and folded my arms over my chest. ”Please. Mercy. It wasn’t my fault. It was supposed to be simple. Just one woman. But there was a man there. It was only the two of us. They refused to pay. Said they didn’t need us anymore.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. But it didn’t work. Not only was I angry—I could feel it—but I also knew that Jace was right there, staring a hole into my back from the doorway. ”Well, if they don’t need us, maybe we don’t need you. If you can’t handle a simple collection job, then maybe you need to go become a servant….” Her bottom jaw started to quiver. I knew what I had just threatened. Collection jobs meant respect. You earned money. Being in the kitchens, serving, scraping—you were looked down upon.
I went to turn and walk away. The girl reached out and grabbed my hand. This was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake. But she was scared. Afraid and alone. Her younger friend who went with her was hiding her face. I knew what I had to do, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I turned, my hand striking her as hard as I could across the face. I had turned my ring into the middle of my hand, facing my palm. The jagged edges of the stones caused a deep laceration on her cheek. The blood sprayed across the floor, hitting the green linoleum in a sickening splat.
She let out a whimper and a cry. I looked down at her, doing everything I could to make sure that my eyes didn’t turn sympathetic. Instead, my nostrils flared and I leaned down, reaching forward. I grabbed hold of her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at me. And then I added one simple word while staring her right in the eyes. ”Pathetic.” As my hand released her face, the look in her eyes changed. The fear disappeared. It was replaced now. It was a look of defeat. Of complete and total submission. I turned and walked out, back past Jace and into the hallway.
I was ashamed of myself. I knew what I had done to that poor girl. I also knew that she had two roads in front of her. She could internalize it and come back stronger. Or she could let it define her and break her. I know that because I stood up. I stood up where others let it define them and break them.
But not me.
Not anymore.
Second verse same as the first
”Well….isn’t this interesting?”
Kayla steps sideways, pacing back and forth as she folds her arms over her chest.
”I have never won a match before actually having it. And no, I’m not talking about the upcoming one. I’m also not talking about my match against Bella. A lot of things have been happening in the bombshells division, but one constant that we have had is me as champion. Aside from a small few-week period where someone held it who should never have even come close to it, I have been the champion here. The leader who is driving this division, this company, into the future. And that isn’t me being arrogant, that’s just a fact.”
“Facts. Something that is lacking in a lot of the verbal diarrhoea that most of you decide to throw out there into the universe. In other words, most of you talking an insane amount of shit. And hey, I do too. But when I talk, people listen, because when I talk, I am the only one who’s honest. Hell, even Bella, who I actually like, isn’t honest. She’s not honest with herself and she’s not honest with anyone else. She lies to herself about everything—from her talent to her relationship to her family.”
“She’s a talented girl. She is. And with a little bit of hard work and a tweak in her personality, Bella could become a star. But she’s not willing to pull the trigger. She’s not willing to do what it takes to become the champion that she sees in her head. She’s too nice. And nice girls finish last.”
“Yeah… I know that was corny.”
“But it’s true. To get ahead in this business, to step up and become what you need to be, you need to silence that little voice in your head. That conscience. It’s something Bella listens to way too much. Even when she tries to come off as a bad bitch, she just fails. And she got in the ring against me after winning a championship opportunity, and she failed. But most people fail against me. She shouldn’t feel too bad about that. There are only a handful of people in this business who have been able to figure me out. And even then, even then, I end up getting the last laugh.”
Kayla can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head. She takes a deep breath in and pushes it out before looking up to the sky as she seems to be choosing her words carefully—or as carefully as she can. After all, this is Kayla Richards we are talking about.
”So, as we go into Violent Conduct, I’ve had to deal with a change of plans. Originally, I was supposed to be defending the championship against Andrea Hernandez. And I wasn’t very happy about that. Not because I was afraid of Andrea—far from it, actually—it’s because I don’t like repeating myself. Against Andrea, there was nothing left to say and nothing left to do because we had faced each other so many times. And I couldn’t even be angry at Andrea herself, because she did earn the opportunity to face me. But after she earned it, I noticed something.”
“I noticed that she wasn’t the same. I noticed that the Andrea Hernandez who had a fire in her belly, who wanted to prove everyone wrong and who beat me, was gone. She was gone the moment I beat her and took the championship back at the Elimination Chamber. She was gone the second she was staring up at me holding the championship, and she realised that everything I said about her was true. I said the pressure would be too much for her, I said she would fail, I said I would come back stronger and she wouldn’t be good enough to beat me—and in the end, I was right.”
“But she still earned an opportunity against me. An opportunity that was due to happen at Violent Conduct.”
“The thing is, every single time I say something and I’m proven to be right, every single one of you just ignores it. I said what I said about Andrea and it came true. And after she won an opportunity to face me, I told everyone she was going to just quit. I told everyone she didn’t have that passion anymore, that I had taken every last inch of relevance she had, every last minuscule cell of passion, and stolen it. I took all of it from her, and I knew she was just going through the motions. She had lucked into a championship match, and I told each and every one of you I had already beaten her and she was going to quit before the match.”
“And I was right…”
She pauses for a moment and shrugs, wearing a black leather biker jacket over a black and red halter top with skinny black jeans and Converse.
”So that left this company—and my championship—in a tiny bit of a pickle. Because of Andrea Hernandez and her selfish actions, the company was scrambling for an opponent to face me at Violent Conduct. And instead of just looking at who had been winning matches and who was the best of the best and giving them a championship opportunity, they decided to grab anyone and everyone who wasn’t already in a match, put them all together, and the winner would get to face me. Everyone from legitimate contenders to women who should not be allowed anywhere near my championship were getting an opportunity.”
“And the winner? The woman I beat at Summer XXXtreme. The Blast from the Past winner. Frankie Holliday.”
“It seems like we cannot avoid each other, can we? The thing is, Frankie, I knew I’d be facing you again someday. I knew that eventually you would earn your way back up to this opportunity. I just didn’t think it would be this soon. Just over two months from our last meeting, and here you are again, getting ready to face me at a supercard. And much like last time, you earned your position—even though the week before the match you were confused as to why you were put in that position.”
“And confused as to why a lot of the other women in that match were also there.”
“I have to say, Frankie, I was not prepared for that level of self-awareness—or awareness of how this company operates. I’ve been saying for a long time that the way things are done to bring people to championship matches needs to change, but my complaints fall on deaf ears. Instead of just finding someone based off their win-loss record, we get these contendership matches. And while sometimes a legitimate contender comes out of them, other times nobody ends up winning. Not the fans, not the champion, not even the challenger. But despite your comments to the contrary about whether or not you earned your place in the contenders match to begin with, you did do what you set out to do. And you are trying to change how things are done by taking the opportunity with both hands.”
She claps slowly with a small smile on her face before continuing.
”But you are still just a rookie, right? That’s how you constantly referred to yourself. Hell, after I beat you, you made light of the fact that you had only had a handful of matches, that you just lost to the champion, and it was everything you had worked for. You literally made fun of yourself and also the company for putting you in a position like that. But you were so sure of yourself. You even made a clever little pun about removing me as the captain of the ship on the Sun Princess cruise. Very clever. But you still failed.”
“You still failed. And instead of looking at the loss, analysing it, accepting it, and realising that you needed to come back better and stronger, you instead decided to be a sarcastic little bitch about it and just shrug it off. Playing around like it didn’t bother you because you’re just a rookie. Just a rookie, right? Seems to be a running theme with you. You lose a match or face any type of adversity and it’s just you being a rookie. It’s just you failing because of your inexperience. How long before that stops being any type of comfort to yourself in your own twisted little mind and your stupid little narrative?”
“How long before people stop looking at that as a legitimate excuse and just see you for what you really are? You’re a hypocrite. And hey, welcome to the club, because we can all be hypocrites. You pointed that out about me—the fact that I freely admit to doing everything I can to stay champion, and I told you that if I needed to, I would resort to any act of cheating that I felt necessary. Here’s the problem though, Frankie. I didn’t need to cheat.”
“I didn’t need to, and I didn’t want to.”
“All I needed to do to end you on the Princess cruise was to jump up and slam my knee into that stupid little head of yours twice. Then you laid down, stared at the lights, and I defended my championship. And this time? This time you weren’t even meant to be here. This time it was meant to be Andrea Hernandez, but she dropped the ball and you picked it up. So now you have an opportunity to beat me and get your revenge, but the issue I have is that you don’t even believe in yourself.”
She steps forward, looking down at her shoes before slowly raising her eyes back up with a smirk on her red-painted lips.
”Everything about you screams desperation. You try to protect yourself constantly by leaning on your own inexperience. You try to pre-emptively stop people from being able to talk about certain subjects. Your sarcasm doesn’t do you any favours either. Talking about me like I’m the best and faking contrition is just a way for you to play as desperate as everyone else. Hell, half of the things you say are unbelievably hackneyed. Overused metaphors about poker and playing cards? Yes, we get it. This is Sin City Wrestling… so many roads that others have walked down, all because you can’t come up with anything more entertaining than that.”
“Shit, you even decided to double down on your talk about championships and what they mean. When you faced me last time, you told me titles don’t matter. You said they come and go and you accused me of being defined by them. I’m not defined by championships, Frankie—I’m defined by success. And the measure of success is how you are remembered. When people look at the record books, they will see my name next to championships. They will see how many people I beat in defending those championships, and that is what is etched in history. The fact that you do not see that as a problem? The fact that you honestly believe the bullshit coming out of your mouth just shows that maybe I’m wrong. I keep thinking your inexperienced rookie shtick is a way for you to deflect and that you’re really not that stupid.”
“Maybe you really are that inept. Maybe whoever trained you tried to impart some kind of knowledge on you that you either didn’t understand, or your trainer was an idiot.”
“You keep talking about that inexperience, about the handful of matches you’ve had. But then you said something even more interesting—the fact that you watch and study, you adapt and overcome. But it didn’t really work against me, did it? You’re not a professional wrestler, you’re a fucking fan with a notebook. You can binge-watch the NFL every single weekend, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to go out there and break records. That doesn’t mean you can get on the field and lead the fucking Detroit Lions to a Super Bowl…”
She spits her words like venom and shakes her head before continuing.
”You have another shot. Another opportunity at glory. And I’m hoping and I’m praying that you take it seriously. I am doing everything I can to mentally prepare myself for the bullshit you’re going to say, but I am also hoping that your pseudo-intellectual psychology bullshit doesn’t rear its ugly head. That you realise studying tape is no replacement for real-world experience. And I hope you finally get it through your stupid skull that championships are everything in this business. And if you can’t see that, then you have no business being in it.”
“This match, this fight, is an opportunity for you to show the world what you can do. And in a street fight, you can do whatever you want and it’s all nice and legal, so if that little conscience of yours has a problem with it then you’re free and clear. But it also means I can do whatever I want to, Frankie. I can destroy you. And I will be doing everything in my power to make damn sure that I walk out as the champion. And you have to do everything to make sure that I fail. I just don’t think you have it in you. Your way of thinking is flawed. Your way of living is flawed. And you’ve already proven, with your stupid comments about being a rookie and not having the experience and everything else, that you are mentally not ready to be in this game. You are not mentally ready to face someone like me. And until you are, you’re just going to fail every single time. Let the violence begin. Because I’m damn sure ready.”
Chapter 73: The Reckoning.
In the weeks leading up to the party tour that we were all expected to go on I enjoyed my time at home. The life of a professional wrestler is almost like that of a travelling showman. We leave and go to different parts of the United States and then different parts of the world all to perform in front of people. Whether it is the Climax Control weekly shows or the supercards that take us to exotic places during certain tours, we have to leave our homes and travel away.
Now, I’m not going to complain about this. I don’t want to come off like I’m ungrateful. After all, I get to go all around the world and see beautiful places all while doing the job that I love. I have a blessed life. I’m not going to lie about it and I’m not going to sit here and make everyone think that I’m trying to tell you that my life is hard. My life is not any harder than anyone else’s. I love my life, I love what I’ve been able to accomplish, but I also love staying at home.
I bought a house with the man that I love and I enjoy staying in it. I enjoy waking up in my own bed, I enjoy sipping my coffee while looking out the window at the beautiful wide open spaces of Colorado. I love the fact that a lot of the people in the city that I live in are either respectful enough that they do not treat me any differently or they genuinely do not know who I am because they don’t watch professional wrestling. Don’t get it twisted, I do get the occasional person who flips out and wants to talk to me, but for the most part the shop owners and locals just know me as the tattooed English girl married to the handsome tall rockstar-looking antisocial hunk.
There are locals at the gym who give me a courtesy nod when I walk through the door, the lovely little barista at my favourite coffee place who is putting herself through college and whose mother is constantly on her back about getting a boyfriend. There is the kindly old man who owns a lovely little restaurant that Finn and I like to visit. A man of Italian descent whose family works there, and he does some of the greatest carbonara that I’ve ever been given the privilege of eating. The reason why I’m telling you all this is because you need to understand how much I love my home.
I love what I’ve been able to accomplish and what I have in my life.
And in my mind I’ve earned it. I’ve gone through so many horrible things. And even now I get to sit staring into the eyes of an innocent young child. Kallie brought over DCx3. Her young son, the son of that idiot Australian who for some reason everyone else likes. And while his father might be a bumbling oaf who I don’t like to talk to, think about, or be in the same room as, Dax is lovely. ”You are getting so much bigger. What is your mother feeding you?”
Kallie smiled and shook her head. Bringing a cup of tea to her mouth and taking a sip, she leaned onto our black marble kitchen bench staring across at me with a look of mild amusement. ”He eats everything. Between him and his father, our grocery bill is through the roof.”
I screwed up my nose and smiled, Dax giggled and kept looking up at me before sliding down onto the floor and running across the room. He grabbed hold of a small book, moving back toward me and jumping up next to me, putting it on my lap before pointing down at it. ”Read please?” I picked up the book and couldn’t help but smile. I could feel Kallie staring at me, waiting for my reaction.
I simply smiled and opened the book. Sitting on my couch reading the story to Dax, I saw him filled with joy and happiness. But his eyelids became heavy, and the young man decided to pass out on my couch. I slid the small stuffed kangaroo that he had brought with him into his arms and pulled a little blanket over him before standing up and moving into the kitchen. ”You really are amazing with him. It’s so cute. It’s the same way that I’ve seen you with your sister’s kids.”
I shrugged. ”They’re innocent. They haven’t seen what the world is yet. They will have enough disappointment and anger in their lives. Enough heartbreak. I’m not going to add to that. Instead, I’d much rather be remembered fondly by the next generation, thank you.” Kallie smiled. I grabbed my purse and sighed. ”I need to duck out, Finn will be home soon. Don’t think you need to go rushing out of here. You can let Dax sleep.” She stayed quiet, just lifting her teacup to acknowledge me as I moved to the door and left.
I moved my way out onto the street. Looking down at my phone, I moved toward our Amazon pick-up box, knowing that I was going to get a few packages as well as a registered letter. Finn and I were waiting on work from a lawyer that we had hired, and a private investigator to find out exactly what the gypsies were planning. But it was on this walk that something hit me. I felt them—eyes all around me. I knew they were watching, I knew they were still there. And they were doing a very good job staying hidden. But this time something felt off. This time felt like it was going to be an attack.
I could hear footsteps behind me. A pace that was matching my own. The shoes even sounded like mine. It was a woman. One who was a similar height and weight to me. Interesting. They’re sending someone who they think would be fair one on one. Idiots. I moved and turned down a slightly more deserted street before spinning around and folding my arms over my chest, waiting for whoever it was. And just like I planned, the girl turned—a mop of long black hair masking her olive skin and green eyes. She turned up her nose, a scar visible going across her right eyebrow, down her eyelid, and then across her cheek.
”You….” I recognised her. She was a simple soldier when I was there. One that I had punished. One that I had felt shame in having to punish and destroy. But here she was, ready to come after me.
”Me… I should’ve known it was you that they were sending me after. Jace said it would be special. Maybe he was right. The second I saw you walk out of that door I knew it. I’d be able to get my revenge.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. She had no idea what she was talking about. She was still brainwashed. Still a member of the family, still someone who would die for the rest of them. ”Revenge? Are you sure that’s what this is about? Because I know I left a mark, but the mark I left wasn’t that one.” My motion was toward her scar. I saw her eye twitch and her hand move up toward her face.
”This was still because of you. Do you know how long it took me to claw my way back? How many bullshit collections I had to do? Do you know how long I had to be exiled?”
”Well it improved your English.”
”Shut up! You don’t get to make a joke out of this. Do you think you’re special? Because you got out? Do you have any idea what you did? You and your sister. Because of your sister leaving and taking you, because of Renee dying, everything hit the fan and Jace needed to step up. But the rest of us are still in the same hell. Why do you get to escape? Why do you get to have a new life?”
Her words started to hit harder and harder. Changing from revenge and anger to what was almost a plea for help. Her voice cracked and her eyes changed. She wasn’t angry, she was jealous. She was scared and knew what she had to do. But didn’t have the stomach to do it. This girl was going to get eaten alive if she went back without accomplishing what she was told to do. But that’s why she was the one to do it. Jace knows damn well she doesn’t have the stomach for this kind of thing. He knew she would fail. He sent this girl to fail so he could punish her and make an example of her. And I’m not going to let that happen.
I turned and opened my purse, pulling out my chequebook. I scribbled something down, turning the cheque over and endorsing it before grabbing her hand and slamming it into her palm. She looked up at me confused. ”Look, it’s not much, but it’s enough that it will get you away from here. Cash it, get the money, and get the fuck away from Colorado and get as far away from the New York compound as you can. Go back to the old country. Go somewhere else in Europe, go to South America—just go anywhere where they aren’t going to find you. I’m sorry. For everything.”
She looked at the amount written on the cheque, her eyes widened. She backed away and nodded slowly. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to say anything. I knew what she felt because I had been there.
Hope
Bloodbath in Miami
The beach was beautiful. Even though it was no longer summer it was still warm and inviting in Miami, Florida. The beautiful white powder of South Beach, the calm ocean as it floated in, mixing with the tall apartment blocks that seemed to ebb and flow across the coastline. Kayla Richards smiled and took a sip of beer. Yes, beer, a cold beer on a warm day. Nothing is better.
”It’s funny Frankie, when you started using the rookie mistake angle I was torn on whether or not it was legitimately how you felt or if it was a tactic. If it was a tactic to draw me in and confuse me, then I could respect that. Hell, it’s something that I would’ve found impressive. Even if it wasn’t going to work. But, the more I hear you speak, the more I realise that this whole rookie mistake narrative that you’ve got cooking up is legitimately how you feel. Why would someone sit here and constantly throw that out into the universe?”
“You’re somehow openly admitting that I’m better while also giving yourself a way out of this whole situation. The situation that you should not have been in. You are here because someone else was too cowardly to face me. You are here because you were able to win a match that should never have happened. You might be a rookie, but even a fully formed, experienced version of you would struggle against someone like me. Just based off of who I am.”
“And what I am...”
“I have never needed someone to make their own mistakes or any kind of luck to beat them. That’s what other people need, Frankie. Others need their opponent to make mistakes, others need to be lucky. I just need to be me. That might seem incredibly arrogant to you and self-righteous, and maybe it is, but that’s what sets me apart from the regular riffraff that you have been beating and dominating since you stepped foot in this company. That is what makes me different than everybody else in this company. But all I keep hearing from every single one of you is that my luck is going to run out or that I’m not as good as I think I am, when every single shred of evidence shows the opposite.”
Kayla clicks her tongue and shakes her head, taking a deep breath before continuing and folding her arms over her chest as her beer sits on the small table in front of her. She looks out across the beautiful white sand.
”However, considering the other low-hanging fruit you have been going for, does the luck and rookie mistake angle really come off as a surprise to me? I guess not. You seem to believe that somehow I’m living rent free in your head. That’s cheap. If you are living rent free in my head then how did you spend the last month and a half, since I beat you, waxing lyrical about how it was a rookie mistake and how you are going to get better? You aren’t living rent free in my head, sweetheart. I’ll explain to you exactly what happened, just so you can get a real glimpse into the mind of the genius that is Kayla Richards.”
“A few months ago you were able to win a tournament. It was a shock to many that you won, but it wasn’t a shock to me. I saw your competition and I honestly believed that you were probably the best out of the bunch. That really isn’t saying that much. That is honestly like saying you are the tastiest thing at Arby’s — everything else is still shit. But you still won. You still earned yourself a match against me.”
“I indulged your little fantasy that you were going to be an incredible opponent for me. I played along and I did so for your benefit. I could’ve been even worse than I was. A bigger, more destructive bitch, both physically and verbally. I could’ve hunted you down backstage and beaten the hell out of you. I could’ve verbally eviscerated you every single time I spoke about you instead of showing you that little bit of respect that I did show you.”
“But I let it go. I let it go because this division needs stars and I didn’t want you quitting and running away like Andrea Hernandez recently did. So instead, I showed you a little bit of respect. And when the match was over, I walked out of there with my championship held high above my head and a huge smile on my face. Because I felt like a new star had been created and you were going to fight your way back to me, and maybe by the time you did, you would be ready. But the second I went through that curtain, the second that my music stopped and I went home, I stopped thinking about you altogether.”
“So, no Frankie, you have not been living rent free inside my head. You have been sleeping like a cheap truck stop whore in my subconscious, because I forgot about you.”
Kayla rolls her eyes and keeps her arms folded over her chest, staring straight ahead. But there is a small spark of anger behind her eyes, anger that Frankie would presume to know her and know what she was thinking.
”That was until you won this opportunity against me. Then I was forced to deal with you again. Forced to listen to the same bullshit that you tried to run at me last time. And it’s really strange to me how someone who sits there and talks so much about change has refused to change in the last two months since I beat the crap out of her and kept my championship. You keep on talking about change like it is your God-given right to try it. Do you know what real change is, Frankie? Real change is showing, not telling. You sit there and tell me what you’re about to do and you tell me how I feel and you tell me what to expect, but then you show me nothing.”
“Nothing.”
“You are a silly little pain addict who likes to use every single cliché under the book because you haven’t learned anything from anyone. You haven’t done anything of note and you are trying so desperately to get my attention when all you had to do was win. All you had to do was keep going and all you had to do was show that you could pull the trigger, and you haven’t been able to do that. Instead, I get some blithering bullshit about you being inevitable, talking about change, using words like "rent free", all of the regular cliché crap that everyone before you has come and used. And as much as I want to believe that you are going to come out firing at Violent Conduct and do everything you promised, I simply don’t have the faith in you that you have in yourself.”
“You keep saying inevitable like you are some comic book supervillain. We might as well paint you purple, put a cheap gold gauntlet on your hand, and have you strut around this place clicking your fingers thinking that you’re special.”
“But when I look at you, all I can think of is much like Thor with Thanos, your father should’ve just gone for the head. Which is ironic considering you just seem less and less like a fighter and more like Thanos with daddy issues….”
Kayla balls her hands into fists and steps back and forth, trying to calm herself down. Clearly annoyed at Frankie’s attitude more so than her presumptions.
”The fact is, I have to deal with you. I have to be the one to beat you and face you. And I have to listen to everything that you put out into the universe and make the decision on if I should take you seriously or laugh at you. The problem with laughing at you is that it diminishes everything I’ve done with this championship, because you are the best that this company has to offer right now to put against me. And all of your big talk about wanting change is just a joke. You don’t want change, you want to face me. You don’t want a new era, you just want attention. And the saddest part about it is that without me you don’t get what you want.”
“Without me, you are just another voice begging to be heard and noticed. Without me, you are just another rookie who has been able to accomplish big things with no one caring. But with me, Frankie? With me you tricked yourself into thinking that you matter. You tricked yourself into thinking that you are an agent of change and a champion of a new era. You believe these things that you are saying about yourself and considering the knee-jerk reaction you had last time I beat you, this isn’t going to be good for you. This isn’t going to be healthy.”
“At Violent Conduct you are going to be stepping in the ring with the greatest professional wrestler this company has ever seen. Not the best women’s wrestler, not the best bombshell or female. The best professional wrestler on this planet. That is who I am. That is what I am. And you need to do something better to beat me.”
“I just don’t have the faith in you to do it. And I simply do not believe you.”