CJ Wylde
Antonio Ricci
Isaiah Luck
Ken Davison
Kyra Johnson
Lucy Wylde
Magdalena Lockheart
Sam Action
You always call me
And ask me how I make it through the day
I’m always fallin’
I guess it’s just god’s way of making me pay
Date September 11th 2017 / Time Unknown / Status Not Recording
Location Chicago, Illinois – Post Synergy
“Lucy!”
If there ever were a moment that I wished I could change my name… that moment would be now. Maybe if I just keep walking, ignore him then maybe he’ll get the hint.
I hear his footsteps getting closer as I pull a small bottle from the front pocket of my jeans.
“Lucy! A word, please?”
Stopping in the hall, I rip the lid off and down the contents of the bottle as Grey Coppi catches up, his face lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. He starts speaking again, but I put my hand up, stopping him momentarily as I focus on the burn of the whiskey as it slides down my throat.
I close my eyes as a wave of warmth crawls over my skin, embracing me with comfort and well being. Funny how I can only find that feeling from Mr. Daniels, isn’t it?
Finally I open my eyes to see Coppi staring at me.
“What do you want?”
I ask, point blank. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and stiffens his demeanor.
“I wanted to speak to you about your win tonight, and your choices at the draft.”
“Damn. And here I thought my actions here tonight were pretty self explanatory.”
I mean, I did go out there and win tonight – exactly like I said I would. Not only that, but I went out and I drafted an A+ team. How much more is there to explain?
I shrug my shoulders and look around Coppi’s head at the workers cleaning everything up here tonight. If I stay silent and look uninterested enough, perhaps he’ll leave with what little information he got out of me. Which really wasn’t anything at all – but a girl can hope, right?
I should know better though, especially as I watch him pull a notepad and pen from his pocket. Here we go…
He clears his throat, his eyes telling me that he’s not about to give up on a great story just because I don’t want to fuck around with this interview right now. I watch his eyes flicker down at the bottle in my hand, it’s like I can feel the judgments shooting from his eyes as he looks back up into mine.
“How did it feel to beat the five other captains here tonight to attain that coveted first draft pick?”
A worker moves past us, rolling a trashcan in front of him. I toss the bottle I’m holding into it, and proceed to pull another from my pocket. Judgments be damned. Can’t he see that I’m obviously not fit to be doing this right now?
Or does he just not care?
Wait, I know that answer. But really, without what’s in this bottle right now, I’d of probably have already ripped his God damned head off of his body and rolled it down the hall like a bowling ball. To say I’m stressed is an understatement. To say…
Motherfucker… It’s rum. I hate rum.
“How do you think I feel?”
I ask, staring distastefully down at the bottle of rum. Right now I feel like I might have a problem if I can’t distinguish between whiskey and rum anymore. But that’s not the point, is it?
I open the bottle and down the contents as Coppi watches me intently. No doubt will this be included with his next story. That is, if he can get that look of disgust off of his face. As if he’s never needed a little ‘help’ to relax.
“Once again, I told everyone exactly what I was going to do and I did it. Besides, I’ve already beaten all of those people at least once… except Hastings… He got lucky because Lacklan was his partner in that one match… But I ended up beating her too, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes.”
“So tell me, what the fuck else can I say?”
I cross my arms over my chest. There’s only one reason that he’s wanting to interview me. There’s only one thing that’s on everyone’s minds after what happened tonight… so why doesn’t he just get to the point? Why doesn’t he cut through the bullshit so that we both can move on with our nights. He – onto his lonely life with his lotion and his hand and me- onto the bar to finish off this buzz I’ve got going.
“Tell me, why’d you use your first pick to take the young upstart, Magdalena Lockheart?”
My eyeballs roll into the back of my head as I lean on the wall behind me and let out a groan.
“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Grey….”
I growl as I let my legs come out from under me, and I slide down the wall until my ass comes in contact with the cold tile floor. I shiver a bit as I cross my legs and let them stick out into the hall.
“Are you okay, Lucy?”
He asks, moving towards me.
I’m just a little dizzy. You don’t need to know that. I let the rum bottle fall out of my hand and listen to the dull thud as the plastic hits the floor and bounces away.
I look up and nod my head giving Coppi an overly enthusiastic thumbs up.
“I’m fucking wonderful, just wanted to take a seat since I’m not getting away from you anytime soon. You’re pretty annoying, you know that?”
He shakes his head and I smile.
“Anyway, why’d I pick Maggie? That’s a great question, that I answered earlier when I fucking picked her.”
“I was hoping you could expand on your reasoning.”
I roll my eyes and put my head back against the wall with dull crack.
Ouch.
“I bet you are. I picked her because she’s young. I picked her because she’s got something to prove. But most of all I picked her because she can.”
“She can.. what?”
“Do I have to explain everything to you? Good God you’re an idiot. Magdalena Lockheart can do anything she puts her mind to. She can prove anything she feels she needs to. The girl is a prodigy and I wanted her on my team because I can see it in her. The greatness, I mean.”
He nods his head and opens his mouth, but I’m not done yet.
“She might not look like much to all of you, but to me – she’s the one that could take us all out. I’m sure a lot of people are betting on Lacklan to come out of Outlast smelling like a rose, and the rest of you can keep betting the fucking farm on her – but I’ll put all my chips on Maggie. She really is the future and that’s why I want her on my team. That’s why I won tonight and that’s why I’m going to the finals in a few weeks. I made the right choices here tonight. Can’t say as much about everyone else.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I hate defending my decisions. I hate being questioned for the shit I do. There’s always a reason. I don’t do anything without a reason, I hoped that people would have figured that out about me by now.
I open my eyes to see him nodding, contemplating my latest statement as he jots a few notes down on his pad.
“I see. So you don’t think your fellow captains made good choices? Which choices in particular did you think weren’t to the benefit of the other captains?”
“What the hell am I a color commentator? Go ask fucking Jay or–“
“What about Killian’s second round pick in particular? How do you feel about him selecting your husband, CJ Wylde?”
Coppi couldn’t have done a better job of gutting me if he’d of ripped my stomach open with a butter knife. The corners of my eyes start stinging so I squeeze them shut. Hearing his name just brings the worst out in me.. not to mention it makes me really, really need another drink.
I reach down and shove my hands into my pockets, praying that somewhere in the deep recesses of my jeans is another bottle of something… anything to help me forget that CJ’s going to be sticking around once again.
“If I would have wanted him on my team, don’t you think I’d of picked him with my first round pick? Good for King though, grasping at those straws. I just hope CJ passes his drug test before Outlast.”
If sarcasm were a woman, she’d be blonde. Platinum blonde with long, flowing locks that could turn even the manliest of men into squirming boys. Voluptuous curves, eyes that could freeze even the warmest blood, and a mouth that could rival a sailor.
Yeah, I’m talking about myself… all except the voluptuous part.
“But you did pick your best friend, JC in the second round.”
I pull my head away from the wall and nod.
“I trust him. There’s a reason he’s my best friend. Can’t have a team around me that I can’t trust.”
“Like last year?”
“Exactly.”
How much more can I say? I couldn’t trust Redemption as far as I could throw him and Lorenzo was still sore about losing the Network title to me… what kind of team is that? And CJ?
Don’t even want to think about him right now.
“Besides… picking between Joe and him, that’s a no brainer. I’m not here to give myself a worse chance of winning, after all. I can’t trust that he’d keep himself healthy enough to actually fight.”
I shrug my shoulders. What Eden did to CJ was wrong, getting UGWC to drug test him before every match, but I get it now. I get why she did it. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer asshole.
I’m sure if anyone could hear this inner dialog, they’d say ‘lucy, you’re so bitter.’
Yeah. I’m bitter.
I’m bitter that he hasn’t tried to contact me. I’m bitter that he gives more of a shit about this business than he does about me. But that’s fine because it’s never been more obvious that I don’t know him anymore.
“I believe all the captains are trying to put together the best team in order to make it to the finals. Speaking of…”
Here it comes.
Told you there was one thing that everyone wants to know.
I sigh as he continues, running my hands along the cold floor as the pit of my stomach turns into what feels like a solid rock. I only wish that it would weigh me down enough to make me sink through this floor and away from anymore of Coppi’s questions.
“Why did you pick the UGWC World Champion, Gabriel Baal as your third and final teammate?”
I knew it was coming, yet I still feel like all the air has has been forced from my lungs. I pull in a deep breath, trying not to let him hear my breath shake as it comes out.
“He makes my team better.”
“Is that all it is?”
My jaw drops and I turn my head up to look into his eyes.
“The point is to win, am I right?”
“Well, yes.. but some might think that you’re trying to tire the champ out before the finals in order to-”
“In order to what exactly? Take his title?”
His eyes widen and he nods his head, but only slightly. I start laughing as I pull myself back up to my feet.
“Did I pick Gabriel to fuck him over? Absolutely fucking not. Did I pick him to give me and my team an advantage in the qualifying round? Hell yes I did. Who doesn’t want the best of the fucking best on their team?”
“Well–”
“Everyone else, that’s who! They were all too fucking scared to do what I did. They were too scared to put the world champion in this position. If anything, Grey.. I gave Gabriel the perfect opportunity to fuck me over. If anything I put this entire team at risk by picking the only person in this entire thing that could ‘phone it in’ and still make it to the finals.”
He steps back as I raise my voice.
“He could say ‘fuck Lucy’ and not even show up until the main event. Did you happen to think of that? You and everyone else, assuming the worst of me just because everyone else in this place is more concerned about title belts than relationships. I don’t want his belt. Not in the fucking slightest. I picked him because I trust him. I picked Gabriel because he is the best around here and if I want to make it to the finals, then I need to have him by my side.”
“And what happens if you do make it?”
I close my mouth for a few seconds, my eyes boring a hole through his head – at least I wish I would.
“Then… Mr. Baal is just going to have to trust me.”
And yeah, I’m purposefully leaving out one of my teammates from last year… Probably because he’s teamed up with his own set of colorful characters again this year.
Sorry, not sorry hun. Such is the life of a captain. And of someone who can pick her own team, which I’m sorry to say that I didn’t want you on. No offense but why would I want someone on my team who can’t be there for me otherwise?
I know, I know… What about Gabriel?
Aren’t I being just a little conceited by saying that I didn’t want CJ on my team, yet I have the World Champ who doesn’t trust me as my ‘ace in the hole’?
Frankly, I didn’t expect Gabriel to react the way he did. I guess I should have. I mean I did make it so that he’s not the only fresh person going into the main event at Outlast. The rest of you should be thanking me – even though helping the rest of you certainly wasn’t my goal.
No, everyone thinks my goal was to screw over one of the only friends that I’ve got in this place.
Because everyone in this world seems to think that championships mean more than relationships.
At the end of the day though, these title belts, this prestige… Does it really mean anything when it’s all said and done? When we’re approaching the swan songs of our respective careers… what are we going to take with us? It sure as hell isn’t the belts and the bragging rights. Nope. It’s the people, it’s the meaning in the relationships that you create in the process.
And believe it or not, I treasure the friendship that Gabriel has given me. Yeah, he doesn’t think so. He thinks I’m out to take what he cherishes so much. But hey, I guess I see what Gabriel treasures so, so much… Right? I guess that’s the lesson I take out of this entire thing…
That world titles conquer all.
Should have already learned that lesson from my husband… but I guess I’m a slow learner, huh?
Whatever. Let me make one thing clear right now… Outlast to me only means one thing; and that is to put Sarah Grey-Lacklan in her place one more time. It isn’t to win Gabriels most coveted item. It’s not to watch my husband go down into the depths of hell, surprisingly enough. I’m here to beat team ‘I haven’t learned my lesson yet’ and make it to the finals where I can say that I’ve made it to the Outlast finals two years in a row.
Date September 14th 2017 / Time 9:15AM / Status Not Recording
Location Hagerstown, Maryland – Unknown Location
My ass hurts, sitting in this chair – I move around, trying to find a more comfortable position but that’s difficult when the entirety of the chair is apparently made out of the hardest substance known to man… wood. I lean to the right and cross my legs, staring around the nearly empty room; well aside from the secretary typing away on her computer.
Click. Click. Click.
Fucking annoying. I uncross my legs and lean towards the left. How is it possible for one ass cheek to hurt worse than the other? I sigh and cross my legs again, wishing I’d of had a few drinks before coming here – God knows I could have used it.
God also knows how badly I don’t want to be here right now. At least I hope he does. After the last few days.. after dealing with everyone and their brother questioning me and my motives. I really shouldn’t give a flying fuck about any of it. I know why I did what I did, and I know why I’m doing what I’m doing… But I’m still hurt by it all.
Not one of these people realize how much I watch everything. None of them know the shit I see. And Not one god damned person realizes that no one… No one questions me more than me. But not about my choices for Outlast. No, I’m questioning myself about why I’m sitting in this shitty waiting room, running my shoes along this sandpaper carpet, staring at Ugly painting number three while I wait for–
“Mrs. Wylde?”
I look up to see Mr. Reed standing in front of me.
“Good morning, James.”
I say, standing up and smoothing skirt back down over my knees. It’s honestly hard to look at the man; not only because of what he stands for but because of the ugly suit he’s wearing today. Must have picked it from the ‘Douchebag’ rack in the store. But really, it’s the smug look on his face that makes me really question my choice in lawyers. That look of ‘My shit don’t stink’.
Sure it does motherfucker.
“How are you doing today?”
I shrug, taking a step towards him to shake his outstretched hand.
“Well I’ve been better.. Wouldn’t be here if things were better, now would I?”
He purses his lips together and gives a sideways glance to the secretary before motioning towards the doorway in which he just emerged.
“Shall we?”
I sigh and move past him, entering his office.
“Would you like something to drink? Water?”
Everytime I come in here, my eyes fall instantly on the plentiful pictures of his family scattered all over his desk. Beautiful wife, two gorgeous children… One with blonde hair, like his mother and one with chestnut hair… I’m assuming like her father.
Family vacations, school events, plays, and everything in between. It’s like he puts these pictures here to remind people like me… that I don’t have anything like this.
“Mrs. Wylde?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you like something to drink?”
I nod my head, turning my focus from the pictures back to him as he stands beside his desk.
“Water?”
“Whiskey would be preferable.”
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t have any of that here.”
He replies as he leaves the room for a few minutes and returns holding a glass of water. I take it from him and nod again as thanks. Fucking water. Who the hell wants water when there are bottles upon bottles of liquor that need to be consumed? Further more, who in the hell wants to be sober through shit like this?
My mouth has gotten so used to the taste and the burn of liquor lately that I don’t even know how my body will react to water. Water doesn’t ease my mind. It doesn’t calm my nerves and it sure as hell doesn’t help me forget.
“I’m sure this hasn’t been easy for you, Lucille. But drinking certainly isn’t the answer for the pain you’re feeling.”
I place the glass on his desk, forcing a smile on my lips.
“You sure about that? Pretty sure it’s been helping a great fucking deal.”
He doesn’t bother answering, but I can tell by the way his lips practically disappear that he’s not exactly pleased to hear me say that. So what? I’m paying him to do a job, and that job isn’t to judge me or to question my choices.
That’s what I have ‘friends’ for.
“How about we stay on subject. What do you have for me? Good news I hope.”
I’m not here for a counseling session.
Besides, this man doesn’t need to know the true depth of the pain I’m feeling right now. He doesn’t have the right to know that the depth of the deepest ocean doesn’t compare to how I feel right now.
I put my hands down on my lap and interlace my fingers together. There’s so much going through my mind; so many times over the last few days that I might have actually cried if I didn’t have a shred of self control. Had to reel myself back in like a fisherman reeling in a big shark. Riding the waves, reeling on the downswing and pulling back when I felt myself getting weak.
“Well…”
My heart drops in my chest, hearing the tone of his voice – and I can feel my blood rushing through my veins.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Law states that you and Mr. Wylde have to be separated for at least a year before you can file for-”
I sit up in the chair, abruptly crossing my legs.
“No. I won’t have it.”
“Mrs. Wylde. There’s nothing I can do, you-”
“No!”
I slam my hand down on the desk, the reverberation hurting my hand as I stare across the desk. I feel the heat in my cheeks as I pull my hand back into my lap.
“There is something you can do. Get this done. Get the paperwork sent to him and get this finalized. Do your fucking job.”
I make sure to enunciate that last sentence, sounding out each syllable to let him know that I mean business. His eyes widen and he raises his eyebrows. I know he doesn’t like being spoken to like that, I can tell by the expression on his face. But I’m not good people, and frankly, I don’t give a shit how he feels.
“Oh… kay…”
He replies softly, looking down at the paperwork on his desk.
“I’m assuming that you’re claiming that Mr. Wylde is at fault for the dissolution of your marriage?”
Yes.
Of course he is. I wouldn’t be here right now if he would have made some kind of effort. I’d be at home, literally twenty minutes from here.. I’d be on the couch with him, laying on him.. or we’d be working out in the gym together, sparring in the ring like old times. We might even be in the bedroom… you know, sleeping. Or other things.
Of course he’s at fault for this. He pushed me away repeatedly. He showed me that his dead wife and kid are and always will be more important than the ‘second chance’ that I was supposed to be. To hell with him, and to hell with them all.
I open my mouth, garnering Mr. Reeds attention. My mind wants to say yes… It’s begging me to say yes. Blame him. Blame him for everything. He deserves it. But my heart…. I blink a few times, feeling my eyes beginning to water.
“No. No one is at fault.”
Again, his eyebrows raise as his dark brown eyes glance back up at me as I casually wipe my eyes and run my hand through my hair.
“So you want-”
“Are you deaf?”
He’s taken aback by tone and the venom dripping from my words.
“Well, no.. But I was under the impression that–”
“I just want this to be over, James. How much plainer do I have to say it? I only want what’s mine.”
“Which is?”
“My salary from UGWC. Everything else is his. The house, the cars… Everything.”
My guess is that he doesn’t hear those words very often, because the look on his face is priceless. I just want to be done. This can’t be done if I spend the next century arguing with CJ over who gets the dining room table or who gets the fucking gym equipment. I don’t have the time for this petty bullshit, and I’m not going to be one of those bitches who wants to take the husband for everything he’s worth.
It’s just not worth it anymore. He’s sapped what want I ever had out of me. The want to work it out, the want to be a better wife, the want to keep this marriage going… All of it.
“At this point, I just don’t care James. I just want to expedite this. Get it over with. Move on with my life.”
“Well since no fault is assigned, I think we can do that, Lucille. Just need to get Mr. Wylde to fill out his half of these and sign them.”
What will CJ do when these are delivered? Will he be angry? Will he rip them up and throw them back in the couriers face? Will he cry? Or will he read them and sign them because it doesn’t matter to him anymore either?
I sigh and thumb through the papers that he just slid across the desk to me.
I’m not happy and he doesn’t care. So what’s the problem?
“Looks good.”
I slide the papers back.
“Get this done as soon as possible.”
“Absolutely. I’ll have the forms delivered tomorrow.”
Date September 15th 2017 / Time 2:05AM / Status Not Recording
Location Jersey City, New Jersey – The Lee Residence
“Oh, hey Joe… Guess what? I’m divorcing CJ!”
I smile and laugh, holding a nearly half empty bottle of whiskey up – pretending to clank it against the imaginary Joe’s glass of imaginary… whatever it is he drinks. I take a swig from the bottle as I come to sit down in Joe’s front yard, leaning against a tree.
“I know, I know… It’s about damn time, right?! Hah!”
I take another drink and laugh out.
In reality I’m not telling Joe. I’m not telling anyone about this.. this divorce. Does it really help to pretend that I’m telling him? Maybe a little… or it’s the alcohol. I mean I did drink half the bottle as I walked back here earlier. It’s really not as funny as I’m making it seem, though.
It’s actually kind of sad.
I got a call earlier, telling me that ‘Mr. Wylde was served with the papers’ and I’d half expected to get a phone call from him… asking me what drugs I was on…asking me if I honestly expected him to sign those papers… that he loved me and he wanted to work it out. No matter what. You know, that kind of shit.
The kind of shit that makes a girl feel loved and cared for.
But I shouldn’t have expected anything.
I’m alone.
CJ wants nothing to do with me.
Gabriel hates me.
My marriage is over.
I mean things are just going fucking wonderful lately. Right?
I open my mouth to say something else to invisible JC, but when I do, it’s like every negative thing that’s been on my mind lately catches in my chest, making my heart skip a beat and a lump form in my throat. I cough, trying to clear my throat as my eyes start welling up.
I’m alone.
Dinner is beginning re-approach its entry point and I cant breathe. My vision gets blurry as my eyes fill up with tears that are just begging to be shed. The corners of my eyes sting as I hold back, my chest tightening as I bring the bottle to my mouth once again – gulping its contents down as fast as I can.
Not now. Not for him. Not for anyone.
I can just hear everyone now… Everything they’ve said about me and my issues, casting their judgments on me, barraging me with their hatred and their scornful glances.
Lucys got so many problems, yet she does nothing about them… she’s a glutton for punishment. She’s second fiddle to everyone. Why doesn’t she just fix her life?
I chuckle out loud as a single tear pushes its way past my defenses and slides casually down my cheek. Rolling down my face like it’s no big deal, like this is just an everyday thing. I stop, close my eyes and just feel that tear rolling down my face… over the peak of my cheek and down into the valley of my jaw… until I feel it drip down onto my shirt.
I’m a fucking loser. I am. I’m sitting in my best friends front yard at ‘whatever it is’ O’clock in the morning, drunk and crying. About CJ. About Gabriel. About everything.
More tears begin flooding my cheeks as I take another pull from the bottle. I don’t get it. Not one bit. I don’t know what I have to do to prove myself anymore… but I’m tired of trying.
I’m tired of caring.
“Luce?”
I whip around at the sound of his voice, immediately moving my hands up to my face, letting the bottle drop into the grass in front of me.
“Jesus, Joe.. You scared the shit out of me.”
I try to wipe my face off as non-nonchalantly as I can while trying to get the lid from my pocket to place back on the bottle.
I feel like I was just caught drinking by my father. Ugh.
“What are you doing out here so late?”
Finally I find the lid in my pocket and attempt to place it back on the bottle.
“I just needed some air.”
“Everything okay?”
He asks, motioning to bottle in my hand. I scoff and screw the cap back on, nodding my head.
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine.”
I look away and up into the night. It might not be as dark as it was at home, err.. at CJs house.. but the view is still beautiful, despite the light pollution. Even though I didn’t notice it at all, until now. Until I’m trying to hide my face from JC in plain view.
“Okay, well as long as you’re good I’m going to head back in. Lizzy will probably be up soon anyway.”
I can sense the strain in his voice and I almost want to tell him whats going on. I don’t want him to think that I’m hiding anything from him.
I’m just hiding it from everyone.
I know that he’s got a lot on his mind as well, and it makes me feel selfish to have asked him to be on my team for Outlast… knowing that he’s got Redemption on deck and he’s prepping for that match like his life depends on it. Can’t possibly blame him for that, not after what Redemption did to GI.
“Yeah. Babies. What’s their problem anyway?”
I reply with a shit eating grin, trying to lighten the mood just a little.
“Yeah.”
He says, looking back towards the house. I can easily tell he didn’t really hear a word of what I said,because knowing JC.. he’d of said something smart or he’d of totally missed the sarcasm in my voice.
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Probably not, Joe.”
He turns back and eyes me up as I pull myself to my feet and wipe the grass clippings off of my pants.
“What?”
“I’m probably just going to head out.”
I can see the befuddled look in his eyes, and I can also tell he’s analyzing. I hate it when he analyzes.
“You’re going to head out. At two in the morning. Drunk.”
I look away. The tone of his voice tells me he disapproves, it’s either that or he can’t believe I’m that stupid.
“Get some rest. Stacy would be pissed if you left without saying goodbye.”
He turns away and heads back into the house as I watch him. After he closes the front door, I finally turn my attention out to the road; wondering if I should just leave anyway – save myself from the embarrassment of being questioned tomorrow about what I was doing out here so late at night and what I was doing walking the streets… and God forbid if he saw me crying.
He’ll probably tell Stacy and then she’ll be wondering if everything is okay.
I don’t know. Maybe I should confide in them… they do care. At least I hope so. I start dragging myself back towards the house, trying to stop the world from spinning as I do.
“Coming… Joe…”
Date September 20th 2017 / Time 3:30PM / Status Not Recording
Location New York City, New York – Holiday Inn NY JFK Airport
Knock Knock!
I barely raise my head up off of the pillow to turn my head towards the door. This bed right now is like a mothers womb – warm and comfortable, safe and quiet… I pull the blanket up over my head, and let my head fall back into the softness of the pillow; encapsulating myself once again to try and sleep the rest of this day away.
It’s not the headache that’s bothering me. Nope. Unfortunately enough, I’ve gotten used to waking up each day with a splitting headache – no doubt from the shenanigans from the night before. No, it’s waking up each day sober… remembering everything that’s happening. Lucky for me though, I keep a supply of memory suppressor with me nearly all the time.
Hair of the dog, some might call it.
Knock Knock!
“Seriously… It’s like eight in the–”
I grumble to myself, bringing my head once again out from under the blanket to look at the clock. I can’t believe someone is bothering me this early in the….
Oh…
It’s three in the afternoon. Where did today go?
“Hold on….”
I pull the blanket from my body, and grimace as the cold air lashes over my bare skin. Fuck it’s cold in here. Bringing my feet to the floor, I stand up and move across the room toward the mirror. My eyes widen at the sight of me.
“Jesus Christ Luce…”
Smeared eyeliner, smeared lipstick up the side of my face, dark circles under my eyes… It looks like I either had one hell of a party last night… or I binged hard and humiliated myself. I turn on the faucet and try to wash as much of the makeup off my face as I can before another knock comes to the door.
Knock Knock!
“Fuck! I’m coming!”
I throw the washcloth down into the sink and make my way towards the door, staggering a few times as I do. I don’t even bother looking through the peephole as I grab the doorknob and throw the door open, ready to lay into whoever is behind the door until I lay my eyes upon a mane of cyan hair and a pair of hazel eyes smiling at me.
“Oh hey Lucy- ooooh. Damn. I didn’t know… is uhh- now a bad time?”
My mouth drops open at the sight of her, and the heat rushes to my cheeks instantly when I see the look of horror on her face. Okay, maybe horror is too strong a word, but I must be one hell of a sight right now, even after cleaning up a little bit.
“Maggie…”
I swallow hard, trying to make the words come out. Cottonmouth is a bitch.
“W-What are you doing here?”
“I just thought that I… uhm… perhaps should stop by and see what’s up maybe? I don’t really mean to intrude. I kinda figured that you’d be up by now but I wasn’t sure…”
I smooth my hands over my hair, realizing that it too is more of a mess than I realized.
“No, no.. you’re not intruding. I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all.”
I move to the side and motion for her to come in as I turn my head and realize that the hotel room is even more of a mess than my face. Clothes everywhere, bottles strewn about in various states of emptiness… I turn my attention back to Maggie and smile.
“I know it’s a mess, but.. I’m in transition right now.”
“What are you transitioning into, a zombie?”
She giggles at me. That little bitch.
“Just kidding. Girl, you look like you could use a cup of coffee or something. I can make you one if you want?”
I groan, closing the door behind her.
“Coffee.. God no. This is nothing that a little hair of the dog can’t fix.”
“Hair of the what now?”
I stop in my tracks, staring at this girl in awe.
“You don’t know what hair of the dog is?”
“No… I’m sorry… should I?”
I chuckle as she looks at me questioningly. Once again I look at her, and I see a younger me. It’s absolutely baffling sometimes to know someone who embodies what I used to be.
“I.. Uh.. Don’t know if you should know. I mean, it’s not vital to know…”
I move to the fridge and grab a half emptied glass of whiskey from the top, taking a quick sip.
“This.. is hair of the dog.”
“Oh. Well, that kinda looks like vodka to me.”
My eyes widen again.
“…and here I was thinking that you were actually talking about dogs hair or something. Like, what in the hell is dog hair going to do for you not sleeping well, right? I’m such an idiot!”
I finish the glass and put the glass back down on the fridge.
“At least now I know that the damage is self-inflicted. Really, if I came at a bad time, I can leave. We can just meet up in Newark a couple hours before the match and go over strategy then or whatevs. I am really sorry for intruding…”
She might as well of punched me in the gut just now.
“Hey, no.. you don’t have to leave.”
I bring myself to the bed and sit down, trying to brush my hands through my hair to straighten it out. I’m a fucking mess, there’s no doubt about it. I haven’t left this room in days, except to go down to the hotel bar and drown myself in whatever expensive liquor they had that night.
“I’ve.. I’ve uh…”
“Hey, we’ve all been through some rough patches and shit. I’m kinda goin’ through one myself right now, you know? What you do really ain’t any of my business. I know that you’re going to be ready to rumble at Outlast… and as long as you are okay, I’m okay.”
I know that she’s going through something similar to what I’m dealing with right now. But staring at her through the silence that’s settled between us, I see something I haven’t really seen in awhile. Concern. Caring. Things that I was when I was that young. Things that I no longer see in myself.
“Hell… I’ll be fine. I always am. You’re right. All of this is self inflicted in the name of living my life. What a life, right?”
I chuckle half-heartedly while pulling my hair back into a messy bun.
“Don’t get old. Don’t give your life to just anyone, trust me.. It sucks.”
The words come out of my mouth before I realize it, my eyes closing as I put my hand up to my head. Fuck. Luckily the smirk on her face says that she took what I said as more of a joke than anything serious.
“Luckily I wasn’t planning on it… I’m not exactly the type to be owned anyway.”
I nod my head. I knew that. An idiot could see that she’s not exactly the ‘submissive’ type, so to say. What a stupid thing for me to say. I disguise my disgust with a coy smile as I reply.
“Then I guess you have nothing to worry about, hmm?”
I look at the bag she’s got perched on her shoulder with curiosity. I point to it, making her turn her head.
“So what’s that? Taking a trip?”
“Uhh… that’s my ring gear.”
“Your ring gear? In that?”
“Yeah, I’ve only got one set. Why?”
I get up from the bed and walk across the room grabbing my own gear bag from the floor and throwing it up onto the bed. I can’t help but to smile, thinking about my own lack of.. Well, anything when I started out.
“This… is why. Dear lord girl, we have to fix the hot mess you’ve got going on here. I’m assuming you brought your gear because you.. Wanted to train?”
“Well… yeah… among other things.”
She stammers.
“I was going to ask what you had planned on doing later this evening-”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Oh no! Jesus… no, I didn’t- I didn’t even say that at all! I wanted to know if we could go over some match film tonight! God Lucy, do I even want to know what you really think of me?”
I laugh out loud at her reaction, I can’t help it.
“Relax.. I’m kidding. Besides, what I think of you… I don’t even think you could handle that truth bomb, sweetie.”
I let my face relax into a grin.
“But, I’d love to go over films with you… beats laying in bed all day, right? Before we do that though… I’m taking you to my gear guy, and we’re setting you up with some gear… and a bag. Definitely a bag.”
I grab my hairbrush and actually begin brushing my hair, motivated to do so for the first time in I don’t know how many days.
“Oh god, I’ve never owned a bag before.”
“Seriously?”
“Nah. I’m just teasing ya.”
“You little-”
“Hey… I get to go over match films with the Lucy Wylde. I’d gladly go out to the ring in street clothes if I get to get inside of your mind for just one day.”
I scoff and move towards the sink, picking up the washcloth from earlier and removing the rest of the smudged makeup from my face.
“Trust me, my mind isn’t anywhere you want to be Maggie.”
Date Unknown 2017 / Time Unknown / Status Not Recording
Location Unknown
”Hello, Love.”
I walk through the doorway of my hotel room and my heart skips a beat the moment I hear the soft, sultry growl in his voice. I close the door behind me, moving backwards to lean against it as I see him sitting in a chair by the window; the skyline of New York City in the background behind him.
“Gabriel…”
I whisper softly, my eyes taking in every soft detail of his face.
“W-What are you doing here?”
I manage to stammer out, keeping my body practically glued to the door of my room. How he got in here, I have no clue. Why he is in here… that’s the real question I need answered. The past few weeks have been tense – and even that’s an understatement. To say he was upset that I picked him for my Outlast team, that’s another – even bigger understatement.
“I wanted to see you, dear. Is that a problem?”
My eyes widen as I finally peel myself from the door and approach him.
“No.. No. Not at all. I just, I didn’t expect to see you – you know, considering…”
“Water under the bridge, Love.”
I move around the bed, coming to sit just in front of him.
“Do you really feel that way?”
I ask, not really believing that he’s just let it go. Not after all the disdain he’s thrown in my direction lately. Not after the distrust and the insults. I can’t even bring myself to look up into his eyes right now. He just doesn’t even understand that there’s absolutely no way that I’d have picked him just to screw him over.
No way that I’d do that to someone that I’ve said over and over how much I care about him.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.
“I mean come on, you’ve been pretty cold lately. I’m beginning to think that Jet was right about you and Eden.”
I look up just as he looks away and out the window.
A pang of guilt stabs into my stomach as I stare at the side of his head, and a tense silence takes over what used to be a kind of pleasant conversation. I have felt kind of jealous of the ‘friendship’ that he and Eden have formed… Friendship… Yeah. Right.
“I suppose I deserve that.”
I can’t believe he’s saying that. Who is this and where did he put the real Gabriel Baal?
“You think so?”
He nods his head and finally turns back towards me so that I can finally see his eyes.
“I haven’t been fair to you, my darling.”
I don’t really know how to respond because I’m totally engrossed in his eyes. They’re not his eyes. But.. But how can they not be his eyes? He’s sitting right here in front of me, I can see his face – his nose, his mouth, his hands… they’re all his.
Not those eyes.
He smirks and brings himself up to his feet, allowing me a view of the rest of him and yep.. the rest of him is him too. The eyes, they look familiar – I just can’t place them. I just know they aren’t those of my friend… Those auburn hues are not nearly the same shade as Gabriels.
But before I’m given a chance to think about it any further, he’s standing directly in front of me – his hand extended to me. I hesitate for a few seconds, still trying to analyze his eyes. I just can’t place those light brown eyes.
Finally though, I place my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet; his hands coming to rest on my hips.
“This can’t be happening…”
“Is it that unbelievable that I desire you?”
I swallow hard and move my sweaty, shaky hands to his chest – running them over his muscles, and up to his neck – feeling his skin… the warmth of it. His warmth.
“Actually… yes.”
He chuckles, squeezing my hips firmly.
“Believe it, Lucy…”
He leans in closer to me and I can feel his hot breath on my lips. Jesus God, this has got to be too good to be true. As long as I’ve been thinking about this moment, or a moment very similar to this one – as long as I’ve wanted… needed this… and he’s finally here. He’s not mad and he wants me just as much as I’ve wanted him.
His lips brush mine lightly, and a wave of euphoria rushes over my body as I wrap my arms around his neck – pulling myself closer, pressing my body against his.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted–”
Before I can finish the sentence, I start hearing a faint ringing off in the distance. I try to ignore it, try to focus on the man in my arms – the man who’s lips are mere centimeters from crashing into mine.
“How long I’ve wanted this…”
I whisper before crushing my lips against his, the ringing getting louder in my ears. Does he hear it too? I push the incessant sound out of my brain, there are things happening that are much more interesting than some stupid ringing. It must be coming from one of the other rooms.
Yeah. Gotta be.
His arms lock around my back, pressing my chest into his as our tongues intertwine in what I can only describe as the most… liberating or perhaps mind-blowing moment of my life.
But that ringing…
That God damned ringing….
It’s getting louder. After a few moments of painfully loud ringing, I have to pull away.
“Do you hear that?”
“—- —- – —-?”
“WHAT?”
I’m looking right at him, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. His lips start moving again, but I can’t focus on them. I can’t try to read them for the pain in my head, practically splitting my skull open.
“Gabriel! Gabriel I lo–”
My eyes fly open and I look around the room frantically, still hearing the ringing and noticing very obviously that Gabriel is no where in sight. My eyes settle on my phone, the screen lit up and the intensely annoying ringing screaming from the speakers. I reach out and grab the phone.
Date September 23rd 2017 / Time Unknown / Status Not Recording
Location New York City, New York – Holiday Inn NY JFK Airport
“Hello?”
I growl into the receiver, my brain having not fully woken up nor has it fully realized that all of that was just a dream. I keep looking around the room, expecting to see Gabriel.
It felt so real.
“Mrs. Wylde?”
“Yes? Who is this?”
Honestly I’m not truly interested in whoever this is. I pull my hair out of my face and get up from the sofa in the room, trying to get the visual and the feelings out of my head. Good God.. Gabriel and I…
“Uh, this is Mr. Reed…”
I open my mouth to ask who in the fuck Mr. Reed is, and then it hits me.
“Oh.. Mr. Reed.”
That Mr. Reed. A lump rises to the back of my throat as I wonder what he wants.
“Yes, hi. I just wanted to call you and let you know that Mr. Wylde submitted his signed forms.”
“Oh.. oh really… Th-That’s great. Wow.”
I can’t believe it. I should be jumping for joy, especially since I thought that CJ would have put up so much more of a fight… But I’m not. Instead I feel like someone just let all the air out of my lungs, like someone just punched me in the stomach, like I could really, really use a drink right now.
“So… W-what’s the next step?”
“Well, I can go ahead and schedule the hearing and then this will all be over.”
“You mean, it’s not over?”
I ask as I stand back up and move across the room to the fridge.
“No, no. It’s as good as over though. Just have to go in front of a judge, you and Mr. Wylde do to officially dissolve your marriage.”
Dissolve my marriage.
Wow.
I can’t even find the words right now. I did this. I knew what I was doing when I did it, and I wanted this. I wanted this. I wanted him to sign the papers and give me what I wanted.. he did.
CJ fucking did. He didn’t fight me. But is that a good thing, or is that even more proof that he doesn’t care? I don’t know.
I can’t help but to think about seeing him again, in the courtroom… Looking into those auburn…
Oh my God… Gabriel had his eyes…
I feel like I’m going to get sick as I realize that I was looking at Gabriel with CJ’s eyes. I was kissing Gabriel… With CJ’s eyes. Oh my God. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Lucille?”
“Oh, yeah… yeah. Well, lets get it scheduled as soon as possible, James.”
Do I want to compete for the world title?
Sure. Why wouldn’t I? I am a wrestler at heart. I’ve been doing this a long time and in that time, I’ve only had one world title around my waist. It would be nice to have another.
Do I want to compete for the world title at the expense of my friendship with Gabriel?
No. Like I said before, there are things that are more important than this business. Gabriel is just that.
Will I?
Yep. Because it’s what I’m supposed to do. Come hell or high water, I’m supposed to compete for the world title and I’m supposed to take my friend to his limit. And I will.
But I hate to neglect the rest of my team just because everyone is up in arms about my choosing our esteemed champion for my third member.
So let’s talk about them.
What do I see in them? Well, I see two people who get it. They get what this business is, and what it’s becoming… even though one of them is relatively new in this world and the other has been doing this for even longer than I have.
You see, I’ve got the perfect combination of youth and experience on my team. I’ve got people who are willing to see beyond the numbers and the belts and are here to do exactly what I’m here to do.
Fucking wrestle.
Put on the best damn show possible.
And at the end of the night, if any of us four walk out the world champion, I’ll count it as a success… because it’s bigger than me. It’s so much bigger than me and I know that. I just want to have fun and these last few weeks have not been much fun.
But going out there with Maggie and Joe and doing what we do best – that’s going to be fun.
Joe is the embodiment of what I wish to be in this career. He’s the physical manifestation of what I can only hope to be by the time I retire for good from this. He’s a good man, he may have lost his way a few times during the journey… but at the end of the day, he’s always done what he needed to do and he’s never needed to apologize for any of it because he knows that this is what this world requires of all of us.
Maggie, she’s what I used to be. When I look at her, when I watch her fight… I see a younger Lucy Wylde. I see the naive young woman that I used to see when I looked in the mirror… except she’s better than I used to be. She’s got the talent to be a Gabriel Baal level superstar in her career, and no one will ever tell me any different. She’s got a long journey ahead of her and I sincerely hope that she continues to be herself, because her unbending will is what will take her to the heights that I’ve achieved… and further.
Everyone has their opinions, and I’m sure everyone has analyzed my choices over and over, thinking that I’ve done lost my mind… but my mind is perfectly clear. I’ve never thought more clearly in my life about anything… well, that’s not exactly true.
Anyway.
Gabriel, Maggie, Joe and I… we’re going to rock your world at Outlast.
More specifically, we’re gonna rock your world; Sarah, Jet, Jason and Kenzie. We’re going to let you flirt with making it to the finals, we’re going to wave it in front of your face like a piece of meat in front of a hungry crocodile. We’re going to let you get close enough to taste it, going to tease you…
And then we’re going to rip it away and end you once and for all.
Outlast isn’t your night, guys. Sorry. It’s my night. It’s our night. It’s my night to show everyone… especially you, Gabriel… that I’m not as untrustworthy as the other losers who betrayed you in your life.
But something tells me that you’re not going to see it anyway.
Oh well.
Put on some fucking glasses and see the truth.
If you don’t… This night just might not go your way… Love.
JC & Maggie Lockheart used with permission
