Page 21 of Heartbreaker
My system has been on edge since Talent Relations and Creative pulled me into a meeting last month and disclosed the plan. I told myself not to get too excited because things change all the time around here. They could decide to postpone my debut at the very last minute and throw someone else out there to fightMoxie. I’ve seen matches change or get cut moments before they were supposed to take place on more than one occasion. The uncertainty of it all will keep you on your toes. But it’s still hard not to be excited, and a little nervous.
The only thing that has helped keep my nerves (somewhat) at bay is knowing Moxie would be by my side. She has become someone I look up to in the company, and besides Rae, who was called up two months ago, she’s the only other woman I’ve gotten close to backstage. Like so many of those in EWE, Moxie—known to the government as Cassandra Tate—has allowed her stage name to become her go-to identifier and thank the Lord for it. Can you imagine having to remember two different names for the number of people who work for this company?
Despite being backstage a handful of times at some of the bigger shows—like Wreck the Halls, Mayhem, Fall Brawl, and Beachbash—I haven’t seen John since he helped us work on promos. And why would I? From the momentBrooks Taylormade his grand return post-injury last year at theMonday Night Rageafter Wrestlefest, he’s been thrown to the wolves.
No, I take that back. I ran into him once.
It was Beachbash last year, the mini version of Wrestlefest held at the end of the summer every year. I was mid-conversation with Moxie and Jo Valence—one of the backstage interviewers—when I saw John and Brody approach from the corner of my eye. His eyes brightened when I met his gaze down the hall, and his hand swallowed mine, not letting go immediately like he had with my counterparts. A brief, fleeting moment, but it was enough to make the two women question how I knewtheBrooks Taylor.
“We met at the training center,” I said, a simple shrug paired with a nonchalant smile. I wanted to get off the topic as quickly as possible.
Raelynn is the only person I finally opened up to about John, not even Bennett knows, and she agrees it’s best to keep it quiet. Some people here, as nice as they seem, are plenty ready to stab you in the back if it means taking your place or gaining favor with the suits. They could take something as innocent as an accidental meeting in a bar and twist it into something much worse.
“You ready?” Juliet asks, leading me through the maze backstage. Over the past year, she has imparted a lot of knowledge about EWE and wrestling. She used to let me stay as late as I wanted, or come in early, and was always there to help guide me or answer questions. I don’t know how I would’ve made it without her.
Juliet’s arm comes to rest around my shoulders, giving me a comforting squeeze, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. Nausea builds in my throat, and my stomach has been in ever-growing knots from the moment I opened my eyes this morning, but I do my best to push it all down. I remind myself of the words I spoke to my reflection this morning:It’s no different than working a show at NextGen.
Except it is.
This is way different.
This is it. The main roster, and somehow, I was chosen to make my debut against the women’s fucking champion.
I don’t say any of that, simply mustering up the best smile I can, and nod at the woman who has become my mentor. “Sure, if you consider ‘being ready’ feeling like I can’t breathe and want to throw up all at the same time.”
“Sweetie, if that’s all, then you’re doing great.” Juliet laughs and guides me through the black drapes that lead into gorilla. This is where you’ll find the producers and writers during the show, alongside Amos Rafferty, the man behind the whole operation, and typically his children, who work in the company, Chelsea and Theo. Gorilla is the in-between of backstage and the talent entrance to the arena.
The lights are dimmed, but the room is lit up by the multitude of monitors that showcase different angles of the ring and arena. And in the corner: none other than Amos. A pair of black-rimmed glasses sits on the edge of his nose, a headset rests over his ears, and his intense stare is on the monitor in front of him. Chelsea, beside him, pushes long red hair off her shoulder and leans forward to whisper in her brother’s ear. They laugh to themselves before the Darling of Wrestling sits back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. Before I can look away, their father glances my way and offers a thumbs-up. The gesture only makes the nausea creep further up my throat.
“So, who is it going to be tonight?”Moxieasks, her voice echoing over the speakers on the other side of the wall. The screen hung in the corner shows her in the center of the ring, focused on the ramp. “Who thinks they can come out here and take this title from me?” She lifts the title high above her head.
Juliet takes hold of my wrist, dragging me further through the camp toward another set of drapes, leading to the timekeeper’s area. “Hoodie,” she says, motioning for me to hand over my jacket.
Unzipping the black jacket, I stare down at my ring gear made specifically for tonight. It’s a nicer version of what I’ve been wearing at NextGen, but still, it reminds me of a sexy cheerleader outfit, albeit less trashy than one you’d find at a Halloween store. Honestly, I could get behind the top. It reminds me of one of my old cheer uniforms, sporting a keyhole cut in the center of a warm pink-and-white checkered pattern with solid baby pink on the sides. However, it’s the rhinestones scattered throughout the pink sections and the shorter-than-short, hot-pink pleated mini skirt that drives me crazy. I get it, they want us to look sexy, but do I have to be one step away from fulfilling some weird fetish?
Despite my hard work to get away from the nicknames I was given on the first day I walked in—Barbie and Pom-Poms ring a bell?—I haven’t been able to shake them. The brilliant idea Creative had when the discussion of my advance began was to continue the cheerleader gimmick.Very original, but as a rookie, I don’t have much room for argument. I’m just happy they think I’m ready. They could’ve told me I’d be dressing up like a clown, and I would’ve asked,Rainbow hair or burnt orange?
At least I have a lot of experience with the type of character they want me to play: the bubbly airhead with lots of energy and pep in her step. And just like Crew said when I told him about it, if I do what they want for now, I can show them why it needs to change.
Juliet offers me one final smile before she disappears back through the curtains. The production aide hands me a microphone, and I swallow down the bile coating the back of my throat. My stomach twists even tighter when the older man gives me a subtle nod.
“I guess nobody thinks they can beat—”Moxie’s words are cut short by a catchy, upbeat, pulsing opening to a pop song. Again, not my first choice, but it matches the character.
Air rushes through my lungs, filling every nook and cranny it can find as my chest expands, until I release it and take my first step over the threshold. I swear I feel the physical transformation from Savannah Williams to “The Hellcat”Savvy Skyeoccur. It’s a strange sensation, almost like walking through a thin veil between backstage and the crowd-filled arena where we are meant to be these larger-than-life characters.
The roar of the crowd is louder than anything I’ve ever experienced at NextGen. Our showroom holds two hundred people max, and this is at least one hundred times that. It takes my breath away and allows the nerves to dig through my mental block, but I shut them out. The response surprises me. I expected a quiet welcome; instead, the fans dance and sing along to my music, and most of those sitting along the ramp barricade reach out toward me. It’s a surreal feeling, one that will be embedded in my brain for the rest of my life. It’s a high that I never want to come down from.
Moxiestands in the center of the ring with a cocked brow, the EWE Women’s title slung over her shoulder now. She watches every step I take down the ramp, looking me up and down when I finally step through the ropes.
“This is the best they could do?” she asks and circles me. When she stops, her face contorts in a dubious frown. She looks back at Jude Paul and Scott Harrington, the show’s commentators. “Really, Theo? Thisis the best you can do?” She asks, looking past me up the ramp. Her words were meant for Theo, who plays the “General Manager” of bothMonday Night RageandThursday Night Commotion. “Wannabe-Barbie?Come on, man.You gotta do better than this!”
Moxieglances back at me with a sweet smile. She wraps a delicate, yet firm arm around my shoulders and guides me back to the ropes, a small nudge in the direction she wants me to go.
“Listen, Spirit Squad, I wouldn’t want you to break a nail or bruise your fresh blowout.So, why don’t you go back to where you came from and send someone out here who knows what they’re doing?”
I take hold of the top rope to steady myself when she shoves me forward, and for a brief moment, my character considers it. But only for a split second before I turn back around to face her again.
“Y’know something, Mox?” I chuckle. “I appreciate your concern, but you can keep it. You see, while the rest of the women around here seem to bow down and take your shit, I’m not going to do that. I’m the one who’s going to take that title off your shoulder and walk not only in, but out, of Wrestlefest as the women’s champion.”
