[SCW Staff]

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

[Dreamkiller]

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.”

[Frankie Holliday]

Here we are again.

Now, I hope that after all this, we finally make the changes necessary around here. Stop giving people chances who don’t deserve them. And now, I’m going to finally take those reins and ensure those changes are enforced.

And win the Bombshell’s title too, but that’s not the most important part.

The time is drawing near for true changes. And an era that will be defined by me. I told you I was the future, I told you I was going to change you, Sin City Wrestling.

The time is drawing near.

I need to live up to what I say I am, don’t I?

Well, as I think about how to best show you, I suppose I need to think about what makes me different.

And you know what it is? My willingness to do what is necessary. I think I need to let you know how I survived to get her, and why I do not fear Kayla Richards and I am excited to fight her again and this time with no rules.

I might be getting a little wet thinking about it.

But when I think about the things I went through, and how it has shaped me? It’s a lot to get excited about.

Let’s keep the story going, shall we?

I stood on the side of the road, watching as his tail lights disappeared in the distance.

“Fuck.”

I said it out loud and there was a wave of disbelief and incredulousness. This had to be a mistake, right? There’s no way Eddie just did this. No way he threw me out of the car. No way he threw my belongings off the interstate. And there’s certainly no way he drove off and left me in the middle of the bum fuck nowhere.

I was actually offended.

How dare he do this to me!  What the hell is going on here?

I sat there on the guardrail with the misguided hope that this was just a blow up. Eventually, Eddie would come to his senses and he would turn around and come back, and he would apologize and things would go back to normal. Cooler heads would prevail and we’d get back to figuring this whole thing out.

I gave it 10 minutes.
Then an hour.
That turned into 2.

Suddenly, it hit me: Eddie wasn’t coming back. It was the middle of the night and the roads were dead. The right side of my brain decided to wake up once the delusional thought of Eddie returning drifted away. All of sudden the emotions came pouring out in a series of statements and questions.

I have no idea where I am.
I have no way to get back home or anywhere else.
I don’t know anyone anywhere close to me.
I am lost.
Where the hell am I?
What am I going to do now?

And that’s when the left side of my brain finally chimed in.

“Well… it’s too fucking late now. We need to get going.”

I used the phone’s flashlight function and gathered my backpack, purse and duffle bag with clothes in it. And there wasn’t any other option but to walk. I didn’t have much battery left, but I turned on the GPS and found my location. In Nebraska, there was a truck stop about 13 miles away west. I had to download a compass app, and then…

I headed west.

I walked for about a mile, and maybe 3 cars were on the road at this time of night. All of them passed on the other side of the road. I didn’t have much food or water. I had a small bag or doritos and a ¾ empty water bottle and I began to realize that I didn’t have the means to really make this journey.

But I didn’t have much of a choice but to continue. I was on the highway side of the guardrail, just hoping against hope at this point that someone would come along. I began to think that I might just die out here. I was walking and it felt like I was making no progress. I wasn’t much of an athlete, and I had never walked this much in my life. My feet hurt and it began to be incredibly painful being on my feet for basically an hour straight.

Maybe 2 cars passed me as I made it to the 4 mile mark. I had 9 more miles to go but my feet were cramped and in pain. Was it 2 cars? 3? My mind was playing tricks on me. I began to think that I just needed to stop and make camp or something off the highway. I was more likely to get a ride in the morning, and rest sounded like a better option than continuing to walk into nothing. Besides, however many cars it was, they didn't seem too keen to stop and help me.

I pulled off the interstate and there was a wooded area where I stopped. I could still see the interstate, but I was far enough away that it was not going to draw much attention. I searched my backpack and one of the things I stole from one of the corner stores was a 3-pack of lighters. I gathered some leaves and sticks and lit up a fire. I put on a few layers and laid down. It didn’t take long for me to pass out.

I woke up and munched two doritos and the journey began again. Lugging a backpack, and duffle bag wasn’t the best, and I was rapidly losing strength from lack of food and water. I made the decision to finish the doritos, banking on the fact that I would find someone to give me a ride.

I at least didn’t look intimidating.

I put out what was left of the fire and began the trek. 9 miles was still a long ass walk. I stayed on the outside of the guardrail and I made it one more mile before I heard the beeping of a car horn. I turned my head as an SUV pulled to the guardrail, four-ways flashing. A younger couple got out.

“Hey, are you okay?” The man asked.

“Yeah. Just headed to the truck stop.” I answered. It was true. Partially anyway.

“Where are you headed? Why are you walking on the interstate?” The woman questioned, in a far more serious tone.

“I… I don’t know. I figure if I can make it to the truck stop, I can find a way.”

“Come on, we’ll give you a lift.” The man said, motioning to me and nodding to his … wife…girlfriend…whatever she was.

“Thank you.”

He put my duffle bag in the backseat and I got in, the SUV was roomy, and it felt so good to be off my feet and just sitting down.

“What happened to you?” The woman asked, looking back at me.

“I… I uh… broke up with my boyfriend.” I shrugged.

“And he left you on the side of the road?!” She asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“What kind of person would do that?!” I assumed this question was rhetorical since she looked at me and the man, who also didn’t answer.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you, honey. Nobody deserves that.” She added.

“Yeah.” I said, now tiring of the conversation.

It was like 5 minutes and then he pulled into the truck stop and parked.

“Thank you for the ride. Um… I don’t really have any money really…”

“Oh, no sweetheart, you don’t need to do that.”

“So… where are you planning to go?”

“I don’t know. But here I can at least figure it out.” I said as I exited the car. They followed for a couple of seconds before the woman nudged the man, who reached into his wallet and pulled out money.

“Here. Just… stay safe?”

There were 4 $20 bills in his hand and I looked up and accepted it.

“Thank you. Really.”

The woman hugged me and I was a little weirded out. The man put his hand on my shoulder and then they waved good-bye like we were friends. I guess some people are good people. I just didn’t know how to take it, to be honest. I was so used to shitty people that genuinely good people… I thought it was fake.

I watched them drive away and headed inside. There was an outlet and thankfully, I left my charger in my backpack so I was able to charge my phone for a little bit, and then it was time for a little revenge.

I called the Nebraska anonymous tip line.

“There was a series of small robberies in your area. You are looking for a grey Chevy Camaro, Wisconsin license plate XRD-81C2. Possibly driving towards Missouri and Kansas.”


I left that, understanding that maybe I would be questioned if the police ever caught up to Eddie, but it would be a while, if ever, that something came up. I’m sure I left hair and… other bodily fluids in that car, but I was prepared for the consequences.

I used the money to buy myself some food and sat down to enjoy my food while charging my phone and weighing my options. I saw a few of the truckers wonder if, get food and eat. I knew that eventually I would have to leave this place and move on. But where would I go? What would I do when I got there? I was 18, but I didn’t have a place to stay so that was a huge problem. But this is what I was after anyway. A fresh start. That’s what this whole thing was supposed to be.

I gathered my things and went outside after my phone was charged. Like a stalker I followed a trucker to his rig and cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Can I help you?” He asked with his gruffest voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you sir, but I’m trying to get…get to… California. I was wondering if I could get a ride?”

He paused, because obviously, this was something out of a bad movie. I don't even know why I said California, but it sounded good at that moment. He looked me up and down and shook his head.

“I’m not headed to California. I’m actually headed to Denver for a delivery. Then headed back this way. I’m afraid I can’t get you to California.” He said, his tone easing and feeling a bit sorry for me.

“That’s okay. That’ll work.” I said almost too quickly.

He sighed and studied me again.

“It’s against company regulations to pick up a hitchhiker.”

“Please, sir. I’ve come so far and I will do anything. Please.”

He sighed heavily as he walked around his rig. He kept looking at me, and looking back.

“I’m on a schedule. That’s money out of my pocket if I’m off. You gonna pay me for that?” He said, hands on hips.

“I… I don’t have much money.” I said with a shrug. “But… I mean… Maybe I can do something for you? We can... work it out?”

He took a few seconds, sighing and shook his head. He opened the door and looked at me.

“Come on.” He said and I hopped up into the rig. We took off shortly thereafter.

“Why are you out here anyway?” He began after a period of silence and getting back on the highway.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to start over, I guess.”

He left it at that for a minute and then turned to continue his journey toward Denver.

“My name is Enos. Enos Parker.”

“My name is Franchesca.” I answered.

It was a 4 hour drive to Denver, and as I had learned from Earl, truck drivers are quite lonely and surly people. You spent long hours on the road, driving and nothing else. Nobody talks to you, nobody asks how your day is or if you need anything. You just drive. Some people are just built for it, but I knew Earl wasn’t and Enos was just as talkative as we drove. We talked about his family and how he drove from Nebraska to Colorado almost every week. That was his time. Same roads, same traffic, same delivery, same everything. It was monotonous, so I’m sure he appreciated the company, and I didn’t do anything but listen. That made him feel important.

Because we made some good time with traffic, he hit another truck stop about 5 miles outside of Denver. He pulled it over and unbuckled himself.

“I appreciate the ride, really.” I said, touching his shoulder and then leg.

“But I get it. I need to pay up.”

Enos was older, a bit chubby and didn’t smell the greatest. But I imagine I didn’t look like a million bucks either.

But I paid up my fee for the ride. I fucked and sucked Enos and we parted ways at the truck stop. I kissed him on the cheek as I left, thanking him for the ride and the good time. Now I had to repeat this process with a new person.

Ted was the next. He got me to Sante Fe. Sucked and fucked.
Charles brought me back up to Salt Lake City. He only wanted a blowjob, so… less work for me.
Ralph was the final man for a little while, as he got me to Reno. Sucked and fucked. Twice.

I was now in the biggest little city in the world. My experience with Earl really helped me get pretty far. And at the end of the day, I was given a few hundred dollars between them. They all thought they were doing the right thing and sending me on my way at least with something.

I had enough for a hotel and for the first time in probably 2 weeks at that point, I got a good night’s sleep in a bed, and a hot shower to go along with it. But the money wasn’t going to last forever. It wasn’t much. But I was in Reno, the next best thing to Vegas.

But technically, Reno is closer to California than Las Vegas is. Was I really going to go to Vegas first?

No. Reno would do for now.

Now, I needed to make some money.


Just when I think I’m out…

I realize that I’m better than what was in front of me and put myself back in.

I know there will be this big speech by Kayla about how she anticipated this and that’s fine. A little white lie never hurt anybody, right? No, you see truthfully, in her heart of hearts, Kayla Richards was hoping and praying that I didn’t win that disco ball battle royal thing because that meant she’d have to put on her big girl pants and have to face me again.

But unfortunately, the captain has to do a little work around here to justify her position. And she obviously didn’t want to put in that type of effort again.

Let us look back, The captain felt so threatened that she told everyone she would cheat if she needed to. She told all of you that she would outshine me. And at the end of the day, the captain threw everything she had at me and it was not enough. She knows it, and I know it. It’s one of those special things that two fighters can sense. She tried to outshine me, and show how much better she was, but… it wasn’t anything that she did that won her the match. Let’s face facts: It was thanks to my mistake, a… rookie mistake you might say, she won. I was right there, step for step move for move, cheat for cheat, with the woman who calls herself the best. But she had to try and make up for it, and hit me with her move 3 times.

You can say that you were proving a point, Kayla, but you and I know the truth. You were desperate and you knew that one would not be enough. You fucking knew it in your soul, Kayla. You had to make that shit count, more out of embarrassment than anything else.

You wanted to make sure I stayed down, and that perhaps I would be so hurt and devastated, physically and mentally by this loss that I wouldn’t want to try again so soon. You felt justified in your celebration. You had proven your point and stopped me. You thwarted my plan and I would never be able to recover and challenge you again. I was humbled! Humbled I say!

And while I wallowed in misery for oh, 30 seconds or so, I realized that I took your best shot, and I was ready to go again. And you were ready to get as far away from me as possible, thinking you had done something, and I realized what you really tried to do.

You tried to break me.

But I did not break. I was beat up, and I felt disappointed, but that was fine. But giving up and walking away because it got a little harder for me?

Who do you think I am, Andrea Hernandez?

I was not stopped, I was delayed. Only slightly.

Do you think you hurt me? Do you think you scarred me? Do you think you scared me? I have been beat up, and scarred far worse by some pretty shitty people in my life, Kayla. You kneed me in the face and you thought that was going to do it? Did you think your victory would be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for me?

All you did Kayla, was delay things.

Because I am inevitable.

I already showed that you are obviously worried and desperate when it comes to me, you will try and take any little advantage you can get. You will take any shortcut you can to win.

And while in most cases, that would be a quality I admire in a person, you think it makes you different and special. It does not. It just makes you more troublesome. But that’s okay, I’ve already gotten under your skin and it was far easier than even I anticipated. I gave you everything on a silver platter last time and you needed me to fuck up. And that burns you more than anything I can do or say.

You are studying me as I speak, taking copious notes, listening to me and trying to anticipate what I would say as if you have some foolproof argument that you’re going to throw out there. Do you need a gotcha moment, Kayla? Is that what this has boiled down to? This isn’t a debate. You can take all the notes you want, my message of change has always been the same. So whatever zingers you have, give me all of them. You want so badly to shut me up and send me away because it’s not fun for you anymore.

So, you want to separate already?

I have to tell you… I’m devastated. I really thought we had something, Kayla.

But I see it now. I see that you want me to go away forever because you think I’m trying to replace you. Mainly because I can do your shtick better than you ever could, but no, I don’t want to replace you. I get off knowing I piss you off and get under your skin by simply existing.

I can hear you now.
“What? I don’t care about you!”
“I’m too busy being the champion!”
“I’m too important!”

You know how I know? How many times do you want to call me a smug little shit? You know why you say that? Because you are upset by it. You’re angry at how confident I am. You’re pissed at the fact I don’t fucking sweat you. How many times do I need to hear condescendingly scold me for my actions like you are my mother? About how I could have done this one way, but instead I do it another, and it rubs you the wrong way.

I don’t even have to try.

I push your buttons and get you out of your comfort zone because I am apparently the only one in this company who won’t hesitate to call you on your bullshit and slap you upside the head and not think twice about it. And now that I know for a fact that I live rent free in your head and you want nothing more than to be rid of me…. Why would I want to replace you?

No, I want to keep you around forever. I want you right below me when I’m at the top, knowing in your heart of hearts that I took this shit from you.

Because for me, all it takes is once.

Just once and then, it doesn’t really matter anymore. If I beat you, then that’s it. You can focus all your energy, you can burn me in effigy, curse my name and swear up and down that you are still the best and then? And then, you can kick my ass all you want. Beat me within an inch of my life and show everyone how much better you are than me.

It won’t change the fact that I beat you.

That’s actually more exciting for me than winning the title. That drives me more than what you hold most dear. Just to hold that over you at any point. To rub your fucking nose in it for all times. That’s why this is so fun for me. Just once and it’s etched there forever. And taking your championship is just the icing on the cake.

At Summer XXXtreme, it was about the chance to make history, and about breaking a record. To become champion faster than anyone. That was the appeal for me in addition to beating you. But now, that is gone. And that’s okay, what I learned that day has helped tremendously. So now, the idea that I beat you and do so even this quickly is the appealing part. What it does to you. You’ve become like a science experiment now. I need to see what happens.

Perhaps you will do the stoic unaffected thing you’ve done every other time?
Perhaps there will be a crash out? Though I believe this to be highly unlikely.
Perhaps you will begrudgingly give me respect?
Perhaps you will do nothing and carry on like it didn’t happen at all?

There are so many possible outcomes and combinations, that is the big thing for me, Kayla. Your reaction to this loss. That’s why I want to beat you now. Not history, but for science!

That’s the exciting part. And it was made even better, Kayla. Because now, neither one of us have to have some sort of ladies agreement about cheating and using weapons and beating each other senseless. Nope! We get to do it and have a street fight! No rules! Anything goes! And I am fucking here for it! Whew, just thinking about it makes me all hot and bothered, So I might get a little flush in the next few moments. Just the mere thought of us fighting like that? Beating each other with sticks and chairs and all kinds of other items, man that shit gets me going!

Because that’s what I know. Pain. Been going through it my whole god damned life, Kayla.

They told me that you’ve ruled with brutality and ruthlessness. Merciless and intimidating. Oh fuck that’s good. That shit excites me. I want that in my life again, Kayla. I need you to be that way. Because that shit? That shit right there? That made me what I am today.

A survivor.

And I’m sure all this has pissed you off and you’ll be cutting through this to fire back, and that’s what I want, but I need you to listen to me.

Fuck I’m flushed.

I need you to try and fucking break me.

I need you to show me that brutality and cruelty that you have. I need that shit like an addict needs a fix. Just fucking hurt me, Kayla! Choke me! Cut me! Give me all that shit. Because  you can’t break me with pain. I am pain. I need you to give me all the pain. I need you to try and hurt me, Kayla. No rules, no disqualifications, all the god damn toys we could ever want to play with!

Fuck that’s good…

Until Violent Conduct Kayla… I will be laying awake, thinking about all that. I need you to be there for me. I want all the pain and suffering you can muster. I get off on that shit, Kayla. I will be dreaming of it. The visions of what I will do.

Beating you…
Hurting you…
Embarrassing you…

And I can do all that…

Just by winning the match.

The physical part is just an added bonus. It’s the foreplay to the climax.

And there’s gonna be a big fucking climax Kayla.

Trust me.


I say god damn that was good. I’m going to have to pet the kitty after that.

[Dreamkiller]

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.”

[Frankie Holliday]

Time draws near again.

Time to battle once again.

Time to put an end to this silly game.

I want to thank Andrea Hernandez for being a coward and making up an excuse to back out of her chance. I want to thank her for blocking me on twitter when I hadn’t said or done anything to her. Perhaps it’s because she knows what’s about to happen.

And I know Kayla Richards knows. I’m sure she’s been training and preparing, having said what she needed, made her counters and pithy comebacks. This is a world about have you done lately, and all the captain has done is sit around and tell you she’s great.

I have shown you.

And I will continue to show you.

The sacrifices I have made?
The depths I have gone to?

You will fully understand why I am prepared to be the leader I told you I would be, and make the changes that are required.

Prepare for the next chapter.

I was in Reno.

I walked the strip with what little money I had, backpack and duffle bag with me. I looked suspicious as all hell, but then again, this was a city that was pretending to be Las Vegas, with its own strip and casinos.

The money I had probably wouldn’t afford me a stay in any hotel on the strip, but a cheap motel would work. I wasn’t old enough to rent a car, since you have to be 25, and I barely had a license as it was.

But, I was here. And I could at least settle down for a little while. I could maybe even win some money. But I wasn’t entirely broke. I did have a bank card and some money from my old job at Burger King. It was a couple thousand dollars since I really only worked there for a couple of months. And between what I kept from Eddie and I’s crime spree and the truckers, I had about another $2,000 cash. So, in total, I wasn’t going into this with nothing, but I didn’t have a lot.

I used my phone's GPS to find a motel for cheap and set all my stuff in it. This is where I would be staying for a little bit, but I needed to find some kind of work or way to make money. Thankfully, this motel wasn’t too far from the Reno strip and I was able to walk there. There were all the bright lights and more tourists than you’d think, but it wasn’t bustling like the actual Vegas strip. This is where people who think they are clever and saving a buck or two go.

I walked and there was plenty to gamble my money away on. But not what I needed. I couldn’t gamble anyway. But, there was something I could do.

I walked until I happened upon Fantasy Girls. A strip club. I figured in my head that I had already lowered myself to using sex for favors and money, but this was a chance to reduce the amount of sex, but increase the money. It was win-win.

I did feel a little bit of shame thinking about working at a strip club, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I walked in and the girls were flirty and working me just as hard as they would work any man who came in the club.

“Can I talk to the owner about… working here?” I asked the girl with the smallest bikini I’d ever seen on a person.

“You trying to get a job, babygirl?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

She looked me up and down, I wasn’t dressed in the attire, but she was also looking at my body. I was mostly covered, but hey, my boobs do stick out a bit.

“I don’t know if you’re what we’re looking for, but he’s around the back through the double doors, second door on the right. Knock first.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck, baby girl.” She whispered, quickly turning her attention from me and to the next guy to pop in the door.

I walked through the double doors and found the second door on the right. The sign was posted on the door.

Barry Simms

I knocked.

“Yeah? Come in.”

I slowly entered the room, somewhat nervous as this was essentially an on the spot job interview.

Barry looked confused as I stood before him, saying nothing as he shrugged and shook his head, eyes widened, non-verbally asking who I was.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, um… I was hoping that maybe I could work here?”

Barry stood up and walked over to me, giving me another once over up and down. He circled me and then once in front of me again, leaned against his desk, hand rubbing his chin in thought.

“How old are you, babycakes?”

“19.”

“Well, some of our guests like them young. But… I gotta tell ya, you got a nice set of tits but no ass.”

I looked behind myself and, I mean… it wasn’t the big butt that was all the rage or whatever.

“It gets the job done.” I replied.

He seemed to like my feistiness and willingness to spar with him verbally. He nodded and held his hands up.

“Well… let me see”

I wasn’t quite sure what he was asking right away, and then it dawned on me. I took my shirt and bra off and dropped my pants. He didn’t say anything right away, He inspected my body, looking at me like I was a piece of meat. Once satisfied, he gestured for me to put my clothes back on.

“Okay, fine. Can you dance?”

“Yes.” I lied.

“Really?” He asked, not quite believing me.

“I may not have a lot of ass to shake, but I can shake it and make it work.” I was getting a bit more confident in my voice and actions.

“Okay, a little spitfire. You know what? I’ll give you a shot. When can you start?”

“Today.” I said almost immediately.

“Okay, look, I need to get you on the schedule, so I need you to fill out some information first, considering I don’t even know your name.”

“Franchesca.”

“That’s… that’s a lot, don’t you think? We have to get you a new name.”

“Most… Most people call me “Frankie.” I said with a shrug

He still shook his head.

“We’ll figure that out. Just, go out this door and turn left, my secretary Lindsey will take care of you.”

He gestured for me to leave and I spent the rest of the night filling out application forms and giving my home address felt a little weird. Because I didn’t live there, I wasn’t going to live there anymore so, what was the point? Whatever the information had to go out and so I filled it out. I told Lindsey to just call me on my cell phone when she needed me.

I spent a couple of days in the motel, and I realized I needed to learn how to lap dance and pole dance because I didn’t know how to do either of them. I spent the nights watching twerking videos and other presumably sexy moves to use when I danced. The thing was I was doing this to no music or anything. So I was missing a part. But after about 3 days, I figured I could make it look like I knew what I was doing.

Finally, Lindsey called me and requested I show up the next day early for some training and to get to know everyone. It was a good thing too, because I was running out of money. You’d be surprised how quickly 4 thousand disappears when you need to buy everything, and you have no way of getting a large amount of stuff anywhere.

I showed up in regular clothes with my backpack now housing skimpy bikinis, stiletto heels, and lingerie. I met most of the girls working there and they seemed nice enough. I was asked what music I wanted to dance to and with only really a limited knowledge of music given I really relied on Mark and Eddie, I didn’t really know what worked.

The house music was grating and I didn’t like it. My white girl rhythm really kept me from vibing with most of the rap and pop music, but the videos I watched led me to a few selections, from the ‘80’s as it were. I re-watched the videos and realized I needed to hear the music in order to really get the vibe of everything. So, I chose some Prince songs and tried to lose myself in the music.

Turns out, I was a natural at sensual dancing and shaking my ass non-stop wasn’t really required. I practiced with a few of the girls, but I could not do pole dancing. Doing my best to avoid the pole as much as possible, but I understood the physics of it, and I was able to use the pole like it was a person, so I sort of bullshitted my way through.

I was officially on the team.

And so I began working at Fantasy Girls, and the money wasn’t bad. When you dance topless and eye fuck the customers, it becomes easy. They called me “Destiny” for whatever reason, but I felt like it fit. It sounded sexy enough, I suppose.

I made some good money, and it kept me at the motel a while longer. I usually didn’t speak to the girls much, but one of them, her stage name was “Luna” struck up multiple conversations with me. She was from out of town too. She moved from a town in Kansas. Her real name was Heather Miller. She was very kind and seemed like a genuine person.

I really didn’t say much to her most of the time as I wasn’t really into sharing a lot of information. But I did tell her I moved from Wisconsin and I didn’t know where I was going to end up. She was… being friendly to me and seemingly didn’t want anything. It was still strange to me.


One day, Heather sat next to me and shrugged before finally asking a question.

“So… where are you staying?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question, telling her a motel felt like she was going to think less of me. I didn’t really care if she did, but the initial thought was not to tell her that.

“Oh, right outside downtown.” I said.

“Yeah, but like… where?” 

“Not far from here.” I was hoping my two vague answers would suffice but they did not. Heather pressed me until I finally said I was living in a motel.

“Oh, baby, do you need a place to stay?”

“No. I’m good.”  I lied again.

Heather pressed me repeatedly to stay with her and stop paying money to a motel and save it. While she made a valid point, I didn’t want to be a burden. I was fully capable of doing this on my own. I rejected her time and time again, but it was adding off, I wasn’t always making great money, but the price of the motel kept the same. 

It was time to find somewhere else to go.

Heather let me stay with her and her boyfriend Ryan for a little while. It was nice to stay somewhere and not have to worry about paying for it, at least not financially right away. I cleaned and did laundry most times. I paid her gas money for rides to work. It was convenient and useful.

There were some days where Heather would work and I wouldn’t, so I would be home alone if Ryan went out, or sometimes he would stay and we’d be alone together. I never really saw Ryan in that light and he never really said much to me outside of a few conversations when Heather was around.

But, as the weeks went by, Ryan and I warmed up to each other, and… and then it happened.

We fucked. It was good.

Ryan was seemingly upset about this for a while, his conscience eating at him. But I never said anything to Heather and neither did he. It was a one time thing and these things happen. I mean, it wasn’t like Heather was better than me. She was fucking stripper too so… what was he going to say?

And for that matter, what was she going to say?
“You fucked a stripper?”
“Yeah. Two of them.”

And more and more when Heather was gone, Ryan and I hooked up. I could carry on without really feeling bad about it, and I could look Heather in her eye and stay her friend. She never knew about it.

Eventually, Ryan called it off and that was that. He realized he loved Heather, and she was a good person.

I was fine with it, since I had made some pretty good money at the strip club. I also made some on the side fucking the customers off the clock. I never did it while I was working, but if guys wanted to pay extra, why the fuck not?

But I still didn’t have a lot of money to really do much with, but I announced to Heather I was leaving as I was going to find a place to stay. I told her I had a lot of work to do and stuff to buy, so I would be busy, but as soon as I was set up, I’d invite her over.

Now I had to actually go through with that…


There are just parts of this game that I don’t enjoy Kayla.

You know, you had all these things you could say. You have options, you’re in control of this situation, right? So many things you could do, but instead you chose to do this nonsense. You chose to just tell me what I said and tell me that I’m wrong.

Let me ask you a question, Kayla. If I sat here and said your mother was a whore, would you come out and say “Um, actually, my mom is NOT a whore!” and think it really showed me up?

That’s what you chose to do. I asked you to give me zingers, and you gave me a book report.
On me.

You could have chosen to talk about yourself, your reign, what you have done to actually lead this division except that just have the title. And you didn’t. But I mean, I understand why that is. You haven’t done anything worth mentioning. I know, because I’ve combed through the past few months of history and found all of nothing pertaining to you doing anything noteworthy. Wait, no, you have said “I’m the champion and the leader” a bunch. But that’s lame, because you are lame. You’re fucking white bread. I used to think that you knew how this all worked and whatnot, but now I see the truth.

You are so flustered you can’t think of anything else.

I am deep inside you, Kayla. So deep. Making a nice home under your skin. You know how I know this? Because you hang on my every word. You are trying so hard to find some kind of flaw, when there’s plenty in front of you. I’m a fucked up person, Kayla. But I’ve got your panties in such a bunch you don’t even know what’s happening. So, I’ll make it really simple for you.

I don’t even want to do this, but I need to get it through your thick skull.

After all this, and everything you want to argue and debate about, you chose the title belt.

You are a bigger buffoon than I gave you credit for.

It’s not about the title itself. The gold and jewels on a leather strap is just a trinket. The title belt is nice to put in a trophy case so that when I’m old and grey, I can think about how it was a catalyst for what I’m truly after.

Because I’m not after the title belt.

I am after your title.

Do you get it?

I’m after your position. I am after your spot at the top of the roster. You can keep the spot below me. You can even carry your own replica title if you want. I’ve said it multiple times now, and you keep digging at this like I’m obsessed with the title belt itself. I am not. I said to you and everyone else, it’s a trinket, and a symbol of power. That’s the way I plan on using it. Nothing more. You can go back and watch, and maybe upon a second or third viewing you may actually understand it.

As I have already said, at the end of the day, you can win a million titles, but eventually you won’t have them anymore. Winning a bunch of titles is great, but does it mean you are the best? Because by that logic, you cannot call yourself the best. You haven’t won that title the most times, nor have you won the most titles. So how does that work?

You are making my point for me that you are defined by titles by being extra about cheating and doing everything to hold onto it. You’re putting everything on you having won titles. You think winning titles is everything there is in wrestling. You do not see the forest for the trees, Kayla. It’s not about beating you for the championship belt. It’s about beating you. That’s worth way more than anything else. The only reason you are saying these things, is because you know what I said about you is true:

Without that title, nobody cares about Kayla Richards.

Your name doesn’t have the value you think it does. Without a title, you would just be… really good wrestler Kayla Richards. You have zero defining traits.

You can sit here and lie to yourself and say your career is defined by wins, so go ahead and tell me the last significant, career-making win you had that wasn’t a title win. While we’re at it, go ahead and tell me the last significant non-title feud you’ve had. Who is the person you’ve had the most intense rivalry with and what was it over? If the answer is a championship, then it does not count. I have plenty of time for this, Kayla. I can wait all day for you to spew out a bullshit answer that you’ll have to dig deep in your archives for, and it will be something nobody remembers or cares about.

I don’t want to, but I can play that game all day Kayla. Your argument is flawed at best, and outright nonsense at worst. There I am done addressing that and I don’t care enough about whatever other key points you may have made in your presentation. The cliff notes version is you think I’m not as good as you.

I’m close, right?
Thought so.

Meanwhile, I made people give a shit about Seleana again for a couple of weeks. Do you know how hard that is? Was that over a championship? No. I raised her almost non-existent stock by being who I am. You couldn’t do that on your best day. I said things about Mikah that drove her up a wall and that wasn’t over a title. I’m making everyone remember my name, while you sit there and just hold a championship belt and think it makes you something special.

It just means you’re in the way of true progress.

I have sunk my claws into this company and division and I will change things for the betterment of… who I see fit. I came here to inject a little chaos and it has worked wonders, people are changing. You see them, sitting up a little straighter, trying a little harder. I have affected this company right under your nose. Because as far as you are concerned, you have that title belt, so it’s all good.

If you cared that much about being a leader or the figurehead of this division, you would have spoken up months ago.

I’ve done this in a little under 5 months, Kayla. You’ve been here for years, you’ve had your chance to make it better, and you have failed. Miserably.

And I have pointed this out to you and that makes you angry and upset. You are simply in denial about it, so much so that you are going out of your way to tell me how much you don’t care because you beat me already. That’s how much I have infected you. I have burrowed deep in your psyche and that’s why you want to beat me up so badly.

And that’s why I welcome it. Because I’ve mentally beaten you. After all the manipulation and poking and prodding at what you thought was an impenetrable aura, I have gotten so upset you want to tear me apart. And you will have your chance at Violent Conduct. I know you think hurting me physically will deter me, but it won’t. I welcome your abuse. I’m comfortable with it.

Are you?

Are you willing to do what needs to be done? I know that I’m willing, Kayla. I am more than happy to smash you with chairs, put you through tables and do whatever else it takes, because I’ve been doing shit like this my whole life. Learning to survive and thrive by any means necessary. Understanding what I need to do, and whom I need to step on to get where I need to go. Carrying the scars of life with me wherever I go. This is why you cannot and will not break me, and why I will beat you.

I will be the leader you could only dream of being. Your title belt will serve its purpose and it will be better used by me. There is a new order coming and I am destined to take my place as the leader of that order. The change is coming and there is nothing you can do to stop it, Kayla. You had your opportunity at Summer XXXtreme and you didn’t get the job done, because you didn’t see the bigger picture.

For you, it was about a title defense and nothing more. I told you, practically begged you to do something, anything to stop it, you were the last line of defense, and you held your ground, but you just cared about the title belt itself. Clinging to it like a security blanket. It becomes more enticing to have that title belt, just so you don’t. That becomes an additional perk to winning.

The bottom line is this, after all that’s been said and done. We meet again, and you will have those same advantages. But they mean even less now. I don’t have to be the best wrestler in the world to beat you, just willing to go further than you. Do more than you. Sacrifice more than you. And I’ve sacrificed a lot in my life to get where I need to go, and I will have no problem putting my entire body at risk to do so. I will fight you to the bitter end, Kayla. I will not hesitate to put you down for good.

I am willing to do whatever it takes to win.

So when you try to tear me apart, when you make me bleed and open me up, just know that you will have to deal with what’s inside, and what’s inside is all your failures and shortcomings. What’s inside is all your transgressions. You will come face to face with the monster you helped create.

And for those of you who are cheering me, hoping I win and see me as an underdog or some kind of role model. Trust me, I am not. When I defeat Kayla Richards, I plan on putting far more controlled chaos into this company, and many of you will not like the way it looks. I will alter this company and shape it as I see fit. Your cheers have fallen on deaf ears. I do not need them, I do not want them. In fact, save them for someone else. At the beginning of this change, many of you will hate it, and you will long for the days of free-wheeling champions who only care to help themselves.

I will help you, whether you want me to or not.

And by the time I am finished, you will thank me for it.

Trust me.