[Chelsea]

 :::OFF CAMERA:::

Coby and I were early to the scheduled lunch with my mother. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My mother was a trainwreck. She had tried for years to hide her addictions. The worst one, of course, was gossip. So, of course, when Octavia, my-only-three-years-my-senior step-mother had bragged to her circle about how sweet Chelsea-Grace Winslow’s new boyfriend was... well my mother caught wind of it. With a name like Chelsea-Grace Elizabeth Winslow, you can see why I dropped the hyphen and took my dad's ring name of Payne. I drum my fingers on the table. Vanessa was always ‘fashionably late’ even family things. Coby places his hand over mine, calming my nervous fingers and giving me a reassuring smile.

“You gotta calm down, even a little. Your nervousness is contagious. If you aren’t calm, collected, and confident, then I will panic. Then she will hate me, and there’s no coming back from that.”

I nod. “I know, I'm sorry. I mean even if she doesn't approve it's not going to change anything with us. It would just be easier if she did, though.”

I smile at him and he leans in kissing my cheek and giving my hand a squeeze.

“Exactly. And if she can’t change anything between us, then what are you so worried about?”

I laugh lightly.

“When you grow up constantly trying to win her approval it becomes an innate reaction.”

Just as I finish speaking, my mother comes through the door. Anyone looking would not peg us at mother and daughter. She was blonde, blue-eyed and had a smaller thin figure. Not as busty or thick as I was in the hips. Something I had inherited from past Pina women. On top of that, my mother was only 40. She was 17 when she had me, much to my grandparent's dismay. She looked like she could pass for early 30’s though.

She smiles as she makes her way to the table, sitting in front of us.

“Chelsea-Grace! You look radiant. Are you using that cream I recommended? It prevents wrinkles.”

Vanessa Winslow finally looks in Coby’s direction and I notice her smile drop slightly but she offers her hand to him.

“Call me Vanessa. And You’re Samuel, right? I wish I could say I have heard so much about you but Chelsea-Grace doesn't speak to me anymore...”

She pouts at me and I take a breath, trying really hard not to roll my eyes. I can notice his face change a little bit at hearing her call him by his first name. He manages to correct her without really hinting that it bothered him. He takes her hand gently, and with a smile.

“Everyone calls me Coby. It’s shorter than Samuel, and if you say Sam in a crowded area, a bunch of teenage girls are going to think you’re talking to them.”

He chuckles, but I can tell that it is forced, and the line that led into it was way too practiced to have been something that came off the top of his head.

Vanessa shrugs.

“Sure.”

She turns back to me. I felt a little irritated at how easily she dismissed people.

“So I have HUGE news.”

I take another deep breath.

“I thought this meeting was because you wanted to meet Coby...”

She shrugs again.

“Honestly Chelsea-Grace, you’re 22 and there are going to be a few others before you pick the right one so I am not really that concerned about this one.”

I clench my fists at my sides as she nods her head at Coby as if he was a dog in my purse. He opens his mouth to respond and then shuts it in order to not make a terrible impression. I can see that he wants to address the comment just as much as I do.

“But my news... I’m getting married!”

This takes me off guard. I hadn't even heard of her dating anyone. I catch Coby rolling his eyes out of the corner of my eye.

“To Robert Van Der Woodsen. I hope you're going to be there as my maid of honor.”

My jaw drops open, and a weird familiarity washes over Coby’s face, but I can see that he cannot place the name entirely.

“Taylor’s Dad?”

Vanessa nods, a big smile on her face. Coby covers his smile with his hand and narrows his eyebrows to try and shield giving away how comical the thought was given everything I have told him about my almost-marriage.

“Isn't it exciting? I have so much planning to do. I need your help Chelsea-Grace.”

I’m flabbergasted. My ex fiance's father. I guess my grandfather got his merger marriage after all.

“Of course,” I reply. What else could I say?

“Congratulations!” Coby forces excitement into his voice and is able to drop his hand from his mouth to display the smile on his face, knowing she will take it as enthusiasm for her marriage instead of just finding her amusing.

This immediately garners brownie points from my mother.

“Thank you, Coby! How sweet of you to say. My own daughter can’t even be happy for me.”

It was my turn to sign.

“I just don't think he's good enough.”

Vanessa laughs.

“Oh, I know it isn't a love match Chelsea-Grace but its security. He isn't too bad on the eyes either.”

I see Coby’s fist ball up hard enough in his lap for his knuckles to move a few steps closer to white than his regular skin tone. He forces more pleasantries from his mouth, though, sounding sincerely cheerful.

“You seem excited about it, and everyone knows the bride is the most important person on any wedding day. If you’re happy, nobody else has a reason not to be, right?”

Vanessa looks at me with a smile.

“Maybe you should keep him around. He’s sweet.”

She nods at Coby with one of her fake smiles.

“Well, unfortunately, I can't stay. I have so much to do but I thought since you were out here already I should tell you in person. The wedding is in May so we can talk more after you get back to New York.”

She stands. A waitress comes by, a confused look on her face.

“Whatever they order please charge back to me. Vanessa Winslow.”

She leans forward to kiss both my cheeks and before either Coby or I can say anything. She turns and is gone just as quickly as she had arrived. I put a hand to my face. How much she bothered me must have shown pretty clearly on my face because his next words were thickly sarcastic and aimed just at making me laugh.

“I like her. She seems like a super observant, intellectually sharp, not at all crazy, below-middle-aged woman.”

I look at him through my fingers and smirk.

“You can see why I often feel like I’m the mother in this situation.”

I sigh heavily.

“But let’s eat the most expensive things on the menu. Not like she’s even going to look at the charges anyway.”

His face lights up with actual enthusiasm for the first time since we sat down.

“Or just like one of everything, take a ton of stuff with us when we leave, only to give it to random people on the way back.”

“I know her credit card number by heart so you know if you wanted to buy a new car too...”

I’m joking of course but it was making me feel better. I loved my mom but sometimes I hated her too. She was the reason I was always at war with myself over what I should be or do but looking at Coby now, taking my hand in his, I knew that it didn’t matter to him.

*****

::N CAMERA:::

Chelsea comes into view of the camera as she sorts through racks of wedding dresses. She looks at one and rolls her eyes and sighs as the voice of her mother, Vanessa Winslow filters over.

”I want cream, not white. It doesn’t seem right for a second time bride to wear white.”

Chelsea chuckles.

“From what my opponent has said lately... Romanians are just plain better. Just simple genetics. You know who also said something similar about their people? That person ended up slaughtering millions of innocent people. Not naming names or anything...”

Chelsea smirks.

“But by my calculations my opponent has had seven matches in SCW to date. Four back a few months ago which were all winless and three since she has been back where she beat two useless wastes of space. So yes, by that standard you were better than one american since Aphrodite was in fact greek... but hey who’s counting. Did she ever win here? Was she more than just a faint blip on anyone's radar? Nope? Well then why should we even be impressed that you beat her. Then comes Veronica Taylor. The girl with an IQ ranging in the 70’s.  80’s if you really want to squeak out some redeeming qualities. And I know, you don't have to be a genius to be a wrestler. In fact a lot of the women in this business have cup sizes that are bigger than their actual intelligence but that all changes with me.”

Chelsea takes a mermaid style dress from a rack and looks it over. She smiles at the sequins and then lovingly puts it back on the rack. She doesn’t look at the camera as she continues.

“We have quite a bit in common Amy. You see my father and brothers were wrestlers too. My older brother still is actually. He’s playing with the baddies over in DARC now. My Dad and younger brother Mateo? Well they're both semi-retired. I get why you left. My familia means everything to me too and I won't belittle you for the choice to take care of them first but your reason for waiting so long to return, well that makes me question everything you stand for.”

She looks up at the camera, her eyebrows raising in emphasis

“You were scared?...”

“...Scared?!”

Are you fucking kidding me? You come in here talking shit about Americans being either fat lazy cows or stuck up plastic bitches yet you couldn't suck it up to get back in a ring out of fear? That's pathetic. And everyone is supposed to believe that you just got over that in what? Four months did you say? Please. I'm not surprised you couldn't beat the pocket munchkin. Besides, remind me why a 1-4 record earned you that shot to begin with?”

She gives a laugh that doesn’t leave her throat.

“Yeah.”

She stops to admire a tiara display, fingering a few of the more ornamental ones.

“If this match is what Christian and Mark need to cement me as championship material then by golly I'm going to destroy you.”

A slow sinister smile fills her face as she looks up from the jewels.

“And I don't mean in that shitty cliche way where I say I'm going to do this or that... no no. I’m just going to make sure that when you leave that ring next sunday, you’re never going to classify any american into your stereotypical bullshit categories. It really shouldn't matter what someone's place of birth is. A person's character is measured on their actions, not the actions of their country. That being said, I’m not going to blame Romania for you being a dick. Seriously. And I don’t call many other women that. As much as I dislike most of the people on this roster, I would never stand up and say I was better because of my heritage. That just buys into everything that we are fighting against when it comes to equality. AS people, not as wrestlers of course because honestly honey, if it comes down to who in this match deserves a chance to move up from the rookie moniker it’s me. I have worked hard and I have never been scared to step into a ring. My first match here was against a woman they didn’t think i could beat based solely on the fact that she was so crazy she has to have a therapist follow her around.”

She shrugs as she comes back to the front of the store. Her mother, Vanessa is standing on a dias. She is wearing the dress that Chelsea had just been admiring a few minutes before, only in an off white colour. It fits her body perfectly. She turns and waves her hand at her daughter.

“What do you think of this one Chelsea-Grace? I think it is perfect for my figure. I mean it’s a good thing I don’t have large hips or a bigger butt like you right? You could never pull this dress off.”

She looks back into the mirror and Chelsea rolls her eyes.

“Right. You look great.”

“I do, don’t I?”

Chelsea shrugs and turns back toward the saleswoman and leans in.

“Suggest something with an open back but not as gathered around the ankles. Mention something about knowing of a woman who tripped because it was too tight. My mother shouldn't have to worry about any potential mishaps.”

The woman nods and moves forward to talk to Vanessa. Chelsea smirks. She looks back at the camera.

“Amy, let me be perfectly frank. You have no chance of beating me. Not only do have the talent, the perseverance and the know-how but I also have something to prove. I lost to a woman that shouldn’t be getting a chance to win a #1 contendership. That is not going to happen again and especially  not against someone like you. I hope you appreciated your shot at Polly pipsqueak because it’s going to be a while for you another. But good luck honey.”

She blows a kiss to the camera.

“You’re going to need it.”

***Fade to black***