“You go into the office and take a book or two from the shelves. You read a few lines, like your life depended on reading 'em right. But you know your life doesn't depend on anything that makes sense, and you wonder where in the hell you got the idea it did' and you begin to get sore.”
― Jim Thompson, The Killer Inside MeJerry’s Family Diner
Stillwater, MN
27.08.2001
6:24pm
Breathing deep, the air tasted like too much cinnamon.
Amber presumed quietly that it was an attempt to make the place more homely, however she couldn’t quite shake the spiced aroma lodged somewhere between her sinuses and the back of her throat while brown sugar seemed to cling faintly to her skin.
Tacky memorabilia and the throwback uniforms did little to ease the not-so subtle old school Americana feeling the diner was going for- even the waitress, with dark curls tumbling around her face and brown eyes that seemed a little too warm for someone long term in the hospitality industry, fed into the heavy nostalgia. With a forced midwestern twang despite the fact she sounded straight off a Florida beach in the summer, she leaned over the table a little more, trying to personalize the experience.
“So where are you guys travelling from?”Small talk had always made Amber feel supremely uncomfortable, hell- just the idea of exchanging nothing pleasantries that no one cared about seemed like such a pointless venture. She was sure if she thought about it for too long, that she might break out in hives and instead went back to silently trying to dislodge the cinnamon stained air bubble making her nose twitch.
Scratching at a worn, chipped table edge, Amber had drawn the approximation of a smiley face- a grotesque attempt to memorialize the overbearing smile and sickly laughter of the woman fawning over them cause they were the only table still occupied.
“Ah, we’re just passing through.”Amber had learned early on to never mention that they were carnies- everyone had a negative story about getting swindled or pickpocketed or a farcical claim that they, and they alone, had figured out how to beat all the games before being utterly humiliated when attempting to put them into practice. Grizz was absolutely sure not to mention that they’d been through this area just the year before and had incited a small riot, granted it wasn't his fault… or so the story went.
Either way, the waitress seemed to pay his response little mind- flitting around the table some more as though her continued presence might increase the size of her tip.
If Amber, even at 13, had her way the woman would have gotten nothing… overbearing and hyper friendly to the point it was nauseating, she had no doubt that Cassidy, sitting across from her in the booth beside her father, would be mimicking the waitresses voice for hours to come...
Still, Grizz always tipped well- he was a stickler for such things, as she’d come to learn from the aging carny...
“Service is a two way street Bambi, we give and receive in kind.”
“Delightful.”“Unless they’re a cunt. Obviously.”
Small talk continued much to Amber’s growing chagrin, she was running out of memorabilia to examine and might be forced to actually partake in the dull conversation, if it ever made it that far. Brushing her hair from her face with more flourish than what was required, the waitress leaned further across the table as though making absolutely sure she was within both of the girls sightlines- Cassidy, in her usual enthusiastic fashion, seemed more than content to partake.
School came up briefly, hobbies and boys followed- it seemed like the world was a far more exciting place when you were 10 years old.
Amber’s skin prickled as the waitress turned her attention to the impassive redhead- at this point she’d only been on the road for a couple months but had already found preference in the solitude and social distance that came with their reputations. She didn’t need to forge meaningful connections that wouldn’t last, no need to wear a proverbial mask in an attempt to fit into a category for people who had no right to judge. As far as tonight was concerned, she’d never have to speak to this woman again- and frankly, Amber greatly preferred it that way.
“You’re very quiet.”Shut up.“It must be quite the adventure, you know, all this travelling.”It wasn’t.
“You sure seem like you’re having a great time.”God, Amber could almost feel the lack of interest crawling up the back of her neck.
Finding no purchase with the apathetic redhead, who’d barely given her more than a deliberate eyebrow raise for her efforts, the waitress straightened up again and turned back towards Grizz with a saccharine smile.
“... your daughters are very lucky little ladies…”God, just fucking shut up.
Please.“We aren’t sisters, Miss.”Cassidy had perfected the matter-of-factly tone, but her use of it left a lot to be desired. Amber knew that it wasn't intended to offend, however those words cut through the air so swiftly, Amber could have sworn she saw cinnamon dust falling to the floor.
Something inside Amber’s chest tightened, like a hand had taken her ribcage and gently squeezed, as she averted her eyes before they started to well up.
Fuck. Maybe if she started at the tacky, memorabilia laden walls for long enough, she might just sink into the seat and everyone would forget she ever existed…
It wasn’t like it wasn’t true- they weren’t blood, they weren’t even remotely related. Grizz had taken her in like a stray - maybe that's what made it easy to forget that they weren’t really family. Yeah, it didn’t make it fucking hurt any less to hear out loud.
“I’m Cassidy and this is Amber- but we call her ‘Bambi’. She’s my best friend, which I guess is kinda like a sister, but better.”A smile across falsely peach coloured lips softened with the tension, Amber could make out the tic in the waitresses face as she struggled to dredge up a response.
“Bambi, what a delightful nickname.”No.
NO.
No one else was allowed to call her that.Amber’s fingers twitched into a loose fist instinctively, violence wasn’t just a reaction- it was her only one. The only one she could rely upon that didn’t leave her feeling empty and frustrated afterwards cause at least pain and guilt might somehow fill the void. Of course the waitress didn’t know better, it’d be irrational to strike out- but Amber wasn’t the rational type, she was the type to fly into a fury cause it's the only way she knew to handle the ways she felt.
“Would you girls like an ice-cream sundae? On the house of course.”Guilt was a powerful motivator and bribery did a great job disguising tension- Cassidy gleefully agreed, her lack of hesitation matched only by the excitement cause ice cream. Obviously. Once again though, in the midst of silence, eyes fell back onto the redhead as she loosened her fist and returned to the chipped smiley face on the tables edge.
“No, thank you.”Surprised to the point of shock, the waitress feigned offense.
“I’ve never met a girl who didn’t like ice-cream.”“It makes me sick… and I don’t really feel like throwing up tonight.”Amber responded without missing a beat, her tone hushed yet assertive.
“How about…”There was a thoughtful pause where there didn’t need to be one.
“... I just get you a small one, and if you don’t like it then it's no harm, no foul.”With a spring in her step and a returning smile, the waitress took her leave- Amber could have sworn in that moment that it might have been followed with the first real breath she’d taken in minutes. With a disappointed frown, Amber quickly realized her distraction had led to a larger than anticipated chunk coming off one of the smiley faces eyes- now they were uneven and that just wouldn’t do.
“Hey Bambi?”Amber contemplated for a moment whether to respond, she didn’t much feel like conversing and yet the sheer lack of distance between them didn’t leave a lot of options for feigned ignorance.
“Yeah?”“Do you miss them?”“Who?”“Your family.”Whatever unseen hand gripped her chest, the fingers closed tighter- like her ribs might start to groan and crack under the pressure and her heart might burst if only so that it might finally stop hurting for a moment. Cassidy looked at her thoughtfully, she was young… naive… she only meant the best, but man… She really knew how to stick a knife in and twist it.
“Bambi is family. Sure, I might not be her Dad and your mother might not be the same as hers…”Grizz stopped for a moment, measuring his words as though expecting an interruption.
“... but family, it isn’t necessarily who you grow up with… It's who you grow as a person with. Everyone who travels with us, who works with us and lives with us. Sure, they all have their own mothers and fathers, maybe even grandparents who love them with all their hearts- but they are still our family cause we’d do anything for them, and they’d do anything for us.
I have no doubt, that if we ever needed it- Bambi would never let us down…”There was a warmth in Grizz’s smile that even the sun couldn’t replicate on its brightest day and his words stitched the cracked pieces of her very being back together one thread at a time- he’d taken a chance on her, and she’d do anything to prove that it wasn’t a mistake.
To prove that he’d never regret bringing her into their lives.
Cassidy nodded in agreement, maybe the depth of the words was lost on her but the heartfelt nature wasn’t. With a small, outstretched hand- Cassidy beckoned for Amber for their hands to meet somewhere just passed the middle. Fingers interlacing unevenly, tightly as though they’d never let go.
“Sisters, but better.”Another moment passed as Cassidy squeezed Amber’s hand as tight as she might manage, the strain showing beneath her pale, freckled skin.
“Hey Bambi?”“Hey, yeah”“Do you wonder if they miss you?”Another pause, this time longer and more pensive- and the response, far less sure as the waitress emerged with ice-cream laden bowls and a smile that made Amber wanna throw up on the spot.
“I dunno… Maybe.”******
“For the longest time, I always thought I didn’t need anyone.
I thought that family was overrated, a glaring chink in an otherwise impenertrable armour- that people couldn’t get to me if I didn’t have anyone in my life that could be targetted or exploited. It's weird cause I’d come up against all these people who drew on that familial strength, I’d scoff when they’d proclaim that the people they cared about made them stronger- I’d call bullshit on all of it.
All I could see were the weakness, the flaws. Reasons why they were wrong…
… and if you don’t think I went after them? Well…
Family for me was a foreign concept for so long that I couldn’t wrap my head around why it was so important to people- I mean after all, I was achieving the same things as them, if not more without the proverbial anchor of someone else's morality chained around my ankles.
If you had faced me 5 years ago Seleana, I’d stand here and tell you that the love you have for your wife, your siblings, your parents- all those people who give you that undeniable and unending love and support you so cherish… That it was holding you back. They… were holding you back.
I’d have threatened their lives, broken down your relationships into pieces not even worth feeding to starving strays- I’d have taken all those beautiful things and set them alight cause, for at least a little while, the warmth would stave off my bitterness.
You could call it a side effect of being alone.
I don’t say these things because I want pity, I don’t expect you to understand or get on my level- see, I lost my Mom very young. All I have are photos and this face kinda hazy in my mind, she's always smiling even if I can’t quite make out the nuances of her face beyond the angles of an old photograph.
I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle who separated when I was seven, I stayed with my Aunt until some busybodys at the local hospital thought it was weird I broke my arm falling out of the same tree twice in 6 months.
I did, for the record, fall out of that tree.
My Aunt had her issues though, and I wasn’t an easy kid to raise. Far too independent, too stubborn and pig-headed to allow anyone to help me cause I didn’t think I needed them. Young, dumb, stupid, irrational. I had big dreams, wanted to be a pro-wrestler like I watched on videos…
Should have seen me, Seleana- a fearsome little 10 year old redhead, like a twig with a bad attitude picking fights with kids, cause they’re little assholes who’ll needle a weakness until you snap.
Years upon fucking years, I went around with this perspective that family meant nothing- that blood was only good for spilling and it was toxic.
Kinda still is.
Like I said though, I don’t say things for pity or understanding, I don’t want you to think I expect you to feel sorry- quite the opposite if anything. I want you to understand my perspective before I put everything you know and everything you think you fight for and shove it down the throat of a roaring woodchipper.
I like to believe you love your family- don’t you?
Your parents, your siblings, your half cousins dogs neighbour that swore they were only staying for three days but is still crashing on your couch four months after the fact claiming they’ll go look for a job next week. You truly adore them, I can see that in the way you talk about them- the way you make your existence about keeping all of them happy.
I bet, despite all logic screaming blindly otherwise, you even love your wife…
Sure, she’s a walking dumpster fire that literally self-destructs anything good you might try to bring into your lives and can’t possibly go two minutes without being the centre of attention cause she might literally explode and we know that kinda toxic mess isn’t coming out of the carpet.
… but she’s your wife and that makes everything okay. Right?
They support you and your… career? Oh yeah, you’ve been Bombshells champion- but so has three quarters of the roster, it's not so special when you were champion during the pass-the parcel phase. Did you get a chocolate as well with your turn, something sweet to make up for that turn around cause the next person wanted their shot to hold the belt just when you got comfortable with the weight?
They support your downward slope into supporting bit player to your wife's constant telenovela style drama- throw in an evil twin and a landslide and you might even get an award for playing ‘long suffering spouse #3’.
They support you, cause that's what family does… right?
That's where I was wrong before- I used to think that family were the weak point, the hole in your plot to success and a loophole begging to be exploited mercilessly.
Except, it's not them.
It’s you.
You’re the problem.
See, you want everyone to believe that you’re good enough to be atop that mountain again- but instead of dropping dead weight, you embrace it and try to drag it up with you. You’d rather flail around with the dregs but be seen as the ‘loving and supportive’ spouse while your errant, self-sabotaging wife gets the opportunities you’ve worked for.
You expect to be taken seriously but what is it you’ve done to earn that recently… Your resume is looking a little sparse, and sure we met in that triple threat- you didn’t take the loss, but you didn’t win either. Like everything else in your career recently Seleana- you’re just… there.
You exist and you contribute nothing.
Yet your family, your support system backs you 100% and you do absolutely nothing with it.
If I didn’t care so fucking little, I might actually be sick.
It's only in recent years I’ve come to appreciate what that love and support truly means, and I’ve had to rebuild my network and my relationships from scratch- and to see you waste, to see you squander what is given so freely and without conditions just really fucking upsets me.
You have so much at your back, a proverbial hurricane of potential and appreciation and instead you focus your attention on making sure that disasterpiece you wed makes it to the ring without getting distracted by a goddamn mirror.
You truly don't appreciate what you have till it's gone- but for you… I think it's already too late.
I wanna say you deserve so much better, but you made this bed… You dug this hole and you willingly threw yourself headfirst into it, knowing it was going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to build- and all so your wife can inevitably ruin the best thing that's happened to her since she learned that your life really does revolve around her.
To think- the reputation, the resume, the legacy of Seleana Zdunich…
... means absolutely nothing now.”******
Amber’s Apartment
Atlantic City, NJ
20/01/2021
6:09am
Maybe it was a mistake.
Amber, with her feet propped lazily between the wrought iron bars of the railing on her balcony, could argue though that her entire career consisted solely of carelessly constructed mistakes and sheer stubbornness- a jenga of unlikely successes that had more than once come tumbling down around her.
There wasn’t a concrete reason why she felt the need to return- it wasn’t as though the industry particularly needed her, no specific happening that drew her back from the brink once again- with enough time, no doubt, she'd fade into quiet irrelevance and the world would be far better off for it.
So…
why return?That was the burning question, the one that seemed that sat behind her sternum turning anything of importance to cinder.
With a heavy sigh, Amber pulled her feet back through the bars whilst trying to ignore the faint damp that had overtaken her socks in the meantime. It wasn't as though she really had anything to prove- after all, the matches… no, the wars… with Roxi had been groundbreaking. They’d set the bar far higher for everyone who tried to follow them and created a new standard for a burgeoning new year.
Hell, Amber fucking won that war.
If it weren't for injury, there would be little doubt that she’d be topping the Inception card in a match for the Bombshells title- or already be champion cause while patience might have been a virtue, it didn’t put gold around ones waist.
Injury.
Yeah, that's what put her in this goddamn situation.
She’d allowed her personal life to intermingle with her professional and made some stupid mistakes, some reckless mistakes. Got distracted, got cocky. A myriad of factors culminating in a redhead stuck on the shelf watching others get their shot when all they really deserved was a kick in the ass.
How many of those women who had gotten a shot before Amber, how many of them had gone through her… had squared up and earned their way past. How many of them showed up for long enough to be a body in a match they didn't fucking deserve.
Amber deserved her shot, even before the last match with Roxi.
Still, she had to bargain with the proverbial devil to get it.
Finding her feet gingerly, Amber limped softly a couple of steps so that she might lean on the rail- the only thing separating her from oblivion. Five floors up and a rather messy landing. Infamy in death.
Somehow living seemed only vaguely like a better option.
Roxi had done a number on her knee, the bruises had taken weeks to dull their rainbow hues- and her ankle… well, the less said the better. She’d scraped and grimaced her way through all the checks, walked that same road like she had a thousand times before just to prove what everyone already knew…
Only this time, she wasn’t sure that she should have.
Take your time, the doctors said, as though they remotely understood the changing landscape of the industry. Blink and everything has shifted beneath your feet, turn your back and suddenly everything you thought you knew means nothing- step out of the limelight and your star might as well go supernova in the night sky.
She couldn’t afford to stay away, not for the remainder her sanity- even just the idea that some of these dregs were allowed to step up into prominence while she emotionally rotted between these walls was beyond infuriating. It was a slap in the face when she hadn’t even deserved it.
They weren’t better than her- not the champions, not their challengers, not those who spoke out of place before being utterly crushed under the weight of their own self-importance.
Not Christina, not even Keira. Fuck, not even Roxi.
None of them were any better than Amber was- yet they’d all gotten their chances and Amber had to wait in line like a patient little nothing, holding out a bowl for an opportunity she’d more than proven herself worthy of.
Untested yet still undeniable- at 40%, she’d still rival any of them at 100%.
Hell, she’d scream it into the void if she had to, cause eventually at least one of them would believe it.
Would they see through the facade, the cracks showing as the cement holding the rebuilt walls together hadn’t even begun to dry- it was a dangerous game Amber was trying to play, Russian Roulette with her career in hopes that if she got lucky just enough that people might think she actually meant it all along.
It wasn’t as though she could just pretend she wasn’t bitter and wounded, that the scars weren’t still oozing a little and the blood left across her tattered muzzle wasn't dried and flaking.
Old dog, same tricks.As her breath frosted slightly in the morning air, Amber brushed some strands of red from her eyes. She had built her career on risk taking, of being that person willing to do anything if only cause the cost was marginally offset by the reward. Titles had been won and lost, battles fought over pride- all of them required some kind of sacrifice, but over time those sacrifices had become far greater and the rewards somehow hadn’t grown to match their cost.
Most nights, Amber was lucky to be drawing even… A win was a win, but it didn't matter much if she left feeling the same way as before, holding the same amount of fuck all she walked in with. Greater risks promised greater reward, sure, however her body couldn’t continue upholding every promise made.
Everyone had their breaking point- Amber could only hope that she could hold hers at bay long enough to get her chance… that she’d continue to defy the odds night after night and that the eventual reign she’d have would be lengthy and worth every miserable bruise, every stitch put through her skin and every bridge she’d had to burn to get there.
Atlantic City might have been Vegas lite, but it's propensity to bring out the risk taker in people couldn't be denied.
For just a little longer, she mused silently as the sun crept through the concrete horizon, her career might still go on fuelled by sheer and the resolve that there would always be someone out there to prove wrong, some entitled asshole thinking that ‘research’ would give them an advantage no one else had attained before- that for a little while longer, the hurricane inside her might wreck havoc before dissipating over the ocean one last time.
Surely one more couldn’t hurt. One more go around to change the future, one more sweet prayer into the void to keep her safe with the promise that she’d have something more than blood and bruises to show for it… That was the thing most people didn’t quite get, it seemed, that like her didn’t get longevity, they didn't get happy endings and a quiet ride off into the sunset-there were no fairytales and white horses, just a lonely room and a beeping machine.
Maybe this was a mistake, but it was a mistake that was hers alone to make.
People like the Distorted Angel that were determined that there was something left in the tank, like the Painted Hurricane willing to take one more spin of the barrel cause Lady Luck had to shine back on her eventually… Like Amber motherfucking Ryan, with a sick gleam in her eye and a bitterness on the back of her tongue she couldn’t swallow- they were destined to go out the very same way they came in...
Alone.******
“There's a lot of talk about respect in what we do.
It's generally an unspoken thing- we’re granted it for persistence, earn it with the things we put each other through. Perhaps it's because we’re a niche unto ourselves in terms of- violence breeds a certain level of familiarity, after all you can't go rolling around in someone else's bodily fluids and not feel a tad closer to them spiritually afterwards.
Maybe it's just human nature that we feel more towards people- that pure malice isn't enough to suffice our shitty little brains in terms of how we feel about the person we stand across from.
Even our most hated rivals, the ones that test us and push us beyond our limits- we respect them, because of their function, because they force us to be better.
Or so I’m told.
See, I don’t believe that respect should be given automatically- I think it still should be earned through the flames of war, through the infliction of unforseen violence, through the rigors that we put ourselves through if only to prove that for three fucking seconds we were better than someone else.
I’ll be honest- there's a lot of women on this roster who have earned my respect… If not for my battles with them, but for the way they conduct their business.
Evie Jordan. Alicia Lukas. Johanna Kreiger. Myra Rivers. Andrea Hernandez. Mercedes Vargas.
Roxi Johnson.
I’m sure you get the picture Seleana- and I’m sure you also noticed that your name… your name doesn't fall among that crowd. Let's be honest here, even if the list went on for a hundred more names, you still wouldn't qualify.
Don't take it personally, although I'm sure you’ll find a way to do so, but it's business. It's business and what we do is business, and frankly- you have absolutely no place being all up in mine.
I don’t have to like you, and I sure as hell don’t have to respect you either- all you’ve done is coast on past successes recently and bolstered your flailing wife who- funnily enough- also couldn’t make the list if I extended it into the thousands. All the things you’ve done, all the potential for you to get back to that place- and you’d rather be a fucking half-assed cheerleader for someone who continues to scrape on by at the level she thinks shes on.
This industry is built on sacrifice Seleana, it's built on doing what is needed to get ahead- you throwing your career down the drain so your wife gets the attention she thinks she deserves isn't a sacrifice though, it's not some noble decision based on love and admiration.
It’s plain stupid. It's unreasonable.
But it’s your career and you do what you like with it…
Just don't expect me to extend you the same courtesy and pity that I’m sure others would- I’m back in SCW to prove that I deserve to be Bombshells champion and whether that means I step straight on through your wife or Roxi’s wife, it won’t matter.
Is it rude to say that I don’t think highly of the champion or challenger?
I doubt it, I’d rather be honest than act like a sycophant for likes and false praise. It's just a shame really, that being Bombshells champion has gone from prestigious to a passing grade, no longer the apex of success but a qualifying bar to be seen as anything more than middling.
Of course this is exactly the point where you make the blatantly obvious declaration that I haven't won a title yet- that I talk alot of shit about prestige and titles for someone who hasn't won one in the company yet.
Thing is, I’m a woman who talks a lot of shit cause when she gets opportunities- she rarely fucks them up. I don't need ten shots to take the belt, give me one and you’ll be pulling it from my cold, dead hands. Look at my resume maybe before spouting off utter nonsense- I win titles everywhere I go, you’ll notice there aren't many multiples though…
It's not cause I’m not good enough- it's cause once I sink my teeth into that top spot, I hold onto it. I fight for that place like my life depends on it, cause in my heart- it does. It’s cause I have to take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way cause they are few and far between- few company owners wanna keep feeding their so called top stars to me, they don’t want them all on the sidelines, they don’t wanna clean the blood off the canvases week after week.
If I get a hold of something I want, you’ll have to do better than cheap insults to get it back off me.
Maybe this is an opportunity for you though, a chance to spoil the party right- I mean, is it an upset if I beat you? Is it an upset if you beat me?
You have the distinct chance to stop me in my tracks, to make me eat everyone of those spiny words I’m throwing out like confetti… A rare moment to leave me speechless and halt my momentum before it starts.
Add that line to your resume, cause those spider webs in the corners aren’t inspiring a lot of faith.
See, whether you like it or not Seleana- this match determines our trajectories going forward, Inception is a beginning to be embraced. It's just a real shame that you are in no way equipped to handle this challenge- not mentally, not physically, not emotionally… fuck, pray for your life while you can cause I doubt even spiritually will save you now.
Coming into this Supercard, we aren’t on an even playing field- I hold all the cards cause you forgot there was more to the game than just showing up with good intentions.
When it comes down to it, sweetheart- I’m wounded. I’m real fucking bitter. Most importantly though- I’m back.
… and you’re fucked.******
Jerry’s Family Diner
Stillwater, MN
19.01.2021
11:49am
“As much as I appreciate the ‘detour’...”Mac Bane’s voice, the soothing baritone that quelled the constant firing nerves that kept Amber on edge, trailed off as he slipped into the booth across from her. Even in the near 20 years that had passed since she'd been here last, the place had desperately tried to keep it's kitschy charm alive, the fiercely Americana-esque memorabilia scattered across walls slightly discoloured with age and a refusal to accept that wallpaper did have a proverbial shelf life.
“I figure you have more reason to have come here aside from the semi-decent coffee.”Blunt, yet without sarcasm and judgement, Mac watched the redhead fidget slightly in her seat- far more preoccupied with the chipped edge of the table than the steaming mug of black coffee swirling slowly in front of her. It was more than just a detour, more than a trip down memory lane- part of her knew it was beyond a long shot, but nostalgia had a way of drawing out the better side of some, and the worst in others.
Maybe there was a chance that Cassidy had…
“Red?”Amber snapped back momentarily, she must have seemed so far away to the ‘One Man Wrecking Crew’ and it was always a surprise that his patience was able to withstand her reveries and forever waning levels of detachment from society. He saw something in her that no one else did, that no one else had been willing to dig through the layers and personality detritus for- maybe he saw something that didn’t exist, that was her theory, but she’d been far too happy and he was far too stubborn for that bubble to be burst.
Amber knew eventually, he’d get it. He’d resign to what everyone else already knew… but until that day, he was still the best thing that had ever come into her life.
“You know, you can talk to me about these things.”It's like he saw straight through her, like her father had been a glassmaker and everything that ticked away under the surface was little more than a puzzle to be solved.
“It's dumb. Even for me”“... which doesn’t make it any less valid.”Amber forced a smile in recognition- he was right, he was always bloody right.
“Maybe so, it's just…”Words were more than just sound- they were thoughts and feelings she couldn’t quite compute, ideas that wedged themselves somewhere just above her voice box in protest. Mac made her feel at ease, no doubt, but that didn't make it any easier to speak her mind when for so long those words were little more than empty threats and idle musings trying to sound philosophical cause she heard them somewhere along the way.
“... I keep thinking that I’m missing something Mac. Like I’m the only one who doesn’t get it- and maybe I’m wrong, and I hope to fuck I’m wrong. I keep thinking that if I just talk to the right person or go to the right place then all of this ends- that I’ve done my bit and paid my dues. You know?”Amber laced her hands around the mug, trying to ignore the faint crack in the handle while the warmth kept her somewhat grounded as her mind drifted elsewhere.
“I just… I owe Grizz basically my career and most of my life and the fact that I can’t wrap my head around all of this. Hell, the fact that I seem to be the worst person alive for doing exactly what anyone else in my situation would have and should have done.”She knew she was rambling, but it was the only way she could make sense of the white noise and tangled webs. Mac watched her thoughtfully, whether he understood or not seemed irrelevant- just the fact that he was here, that he was willing to listen...
It was almost as though the man was the patron saint of hurricanes and the colour red.
Amber almost wanted to chuckle at the absurdity of it all, but somehow it would only make her sound madder than she already thought she did.
“If I never left… I’d never have done any of this. If I didn’t leave- I’d likely have been another unsolved file in a police drawer, a cold case no one wanted to touch or behind bars for creating more work for them.”“Yeah, I can’t see facial prison tattoos being your style.”An attempt at humour, more absurdity and yet a welcome tonal change. His hands sought out hers across the table, encompassing hers firmly.
“You mean a spider web in the top corner of my forehead wouldn’t be attractive?”A chuckle escaped his lips.
“Now, I never said that…”Mac squeezed her hands a little harder, as his eyes met hers.
“We’re always going to be resented for decisions we make- regardless who we make them for.”… “You hurt her so badly when you left. You promised her you’d never leave and you did… The moment you got a chance, you walked straight out of her life without even a second thought”...
Sticky’s voice echoed loudly in her head- hell, she could envision his nauseating smile behind that perspex wall as vividly as she could see Mac sitting across from her.
“You’ll never do the right thing by everyone, but you can never be expected to do the right thing by others if you can’t manage to do it for yourself first.”… “Not that you ever worried but it was my arms she ran into, I stayed when you decided you were far too good for the rest of us. Now you wanna come here and act like you have her best interests at heart”…
Neither of them were wrong, neither of them were any less legitimate in their claims. It made Amber wanna scream, a headache pounded from behind her eyes while the thick aroma of too much cinnamon lingered with every breath.
… “She told me you’d come looking, you know? Although I doubt she realized it would be this soon… You were always very good at this, just a shame it's not useful for anything aside from assailing your own guilt.”...
Guilt. That's why she was really here… God, she’d never forgiven herself for walking out on Cassidy- but what the fuck else was she supposed to do?
Sacrifice everything she’d worked for just to appease one person?
Why did this even make her feel guilty to begin with- for fucking once in her life she’d actually made the right decision and no one had been hurt in the process. Not physically at least.
They were like sisters… but better.
So why couldn’t Cassidy be happy for her?
Swirling. Spinning... This whole thing made her feel dizzy.
“Red?”She’d been drifting again.
“Sorry.”“Don’t be.”Family was supposed to do anything for each other- unconditional love and support. Amber couldn’t help but wonder what their lives would have looked like if she stayed, if she’d turned down opportunity in favour of… what exactly, a lifetime performing in front of crowds half watching the spectacle and half conversing about whether corn dogs or cotton candy were the true carnival staple food substitute. A commitment of her life to death defiance in front of a crowd who’d barely remember her name by the time they got back to their cars.
Was that even a life, was that a decision she’d have been able to live with knowing the possibilities that could have been?
A pause followed, the background noise barely filling the space between them as Amber deliberately averted her gaze.
“You still care about her, don’t you?”Amber wasn’t sure how to initially respond. Her relationship with Cassidy was complicated, maybe something even beyond that and yet simple… straight forward.
“I was an only child Mac, grew up chasing my own shadow cause kids don’t understand complex family dynamics- only that you’re different, that you don’t fit in. I would have given anything for a sibling, even if they annoyed the shit out of me- I just wanted to have someone who didn’t care that I was different. That my family was different.”Another pause, her voice cracking slightly as it fell into a whisper.
“Cassidy was like my sister… but better.”Words fell out subconsciously, her facade falling to pieces where she sat.
… “Tell you what, come back this time next week and maybe, just maybe I might have something to offer”...
God, Sticky was playing her like a puppet- lord knows that he didn’t care about how either of them felt, and part of Amber suspected that he didn’t even know where Cassidy was, only that she wanted to know badly enough that she’d swallowed her pride and a bunch of broken glass with it.
If she went back, she’d play right into his hands- but if she didn’t… she might never find Cassidy in time.
If he even knew.
“Thing is… even if I do find her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”Removing one hand from hers, Mac gently drew her gaze back to his with a smile that never failed to drag her back to reality.
“You’ll be what you’ve always been… yourself.”
