[ VM ] Mama Said Knock You Out
Jan 11, 2021 11:12:59 GMT -5
Roger Wright, lajohnnystylez, and 5 more like this
Post by Vhodka Marie on Jan 11, 2021 11:12:59 GMT -5
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
I’m gonna be honest with you here, I’m not entirely sure how long we’ve been having this argument, for someone so smart and well read Vincent Black sure could be stupid sometimes. Times like when he obviously and regrettably downgraded by marrying the Wendy’s girl over me. Can you imagine? The real Wendy’s girl maybe, I mean, she has Frosty’s. But the broke down busted face WIC version he called a soon to be ex-wife? No way. VD, that’s what I exclusively call her now on account of it’s a diminutive of her name but also a description of what she has, was like when Dave Thomas died and the big wigs at corporate headquarters started fuckin’ around with the menu and changed to the terrible fries and got rid of the little round barbecue sauces. No one asked for it and no one is exactly happy about it, kind of like most people feel about Michelle Moore. But this is a man who doesn’t know the first thing about fast food so I guess I eventually have to work past it. Whatever.
The current argument was not related to VD - the person or the affliction - but was vaguely related to food. Leave it to mister fancy pants over here to take offense to a thoughtful gift like an air fryer.
« Vhodka Marie »
It fries with just air! What is better for you than air? Literally nothing.
« Vin Black »
Listen to yourself right now, you don’t even know what you’re saying. If it were possible to fry things with air then you could make tater tots with a hand dryer.
« Vhodka Marie »
So you want to buy a hand dryer instead?
« Vin Black »
You’re not understanding what I’m saying.
« Vhodka Marie »
I don’t think YOU understand. I understand perfectly fine that everything that comes out of that egg shaped appliance is fucking delicious.
« Vin Black »
It’s literally just a cleverly marketed convection oven.
« Vhodka Marie »
You’re a cleverly marketed convection oven.
« Vin Black »
We’ve been down this road, you’re the oven and I am oven mitt that gets stuck inside when things get hot.
« Vhodka Marie »
Or I am the air fryer and you are the crispy french fries inside my piping hot basket.
« Vin Black »
The edges are only crispy because they got dehydrated. It’s just basically blow drying your food until it’s hot.
« Vhodka Marie »
Did an airfryer hurt you once?
« Vin Black »
I know that you’re being sarcastic but I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I couldn’t win a fight with an air fryer.
« Vhodka Marie »
If the fight was making delicious food you’d lose hands down.
« Vin Black »
I’m an excellent cook.
« Vhodka Marie »
You literally blended up grass and pencil shavings and tried to feed it to me. You should be allowed in a kitchen even less than I am.
« Vin Black »
For the last time that was a kale and quinoa smoothie and it’s good for you.
« Vhodka Marie »
It’s poison. You tried to poison me.
« Vin Black »
If I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t do it with a smoothie.
« Vhodka Marie »
Wait, what?
« Vin Black »
If I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t do it with a smoothie, you’d expect that and it’d never work anyway. I’d have to do something like cut the breaks on your big wheel or lace your Cheetos with arsenic. Though there is some merit to waiting until you’re asleep then slicing one of your main arteries and letting you bleed out.
« Vhodka Marie »
Wait, what?
« Vin Black »
Don’t worry, I’d never kill you. Probably.
He patted my leg with an entirely way too straight face for my comfort level given the subject of my impending murder. I should have known the boy assassin learned it from somewhere, I just assumed it was his mother Clifford the Big Red Dog. Looking at Vincent’s somber face I knew it was the man in front of me all along and kicked myself for not putting it together sooner. Despite the fact that he may or may not eventually kill me in my sleep I liked having him here in Bent Fork with me, it felt strangely... right. My mother had been all set to move the Christmas celebration to the weekend before the holiday to accommodate Vincent being home with his children on the actual day but he’d surprised us all by telling us not to move it and then surprised us again when he told us his son had asked if he could come along. It might come as a surprise to you but kids are not entirely my thing. Which is ironic because I kind of am a kid myself. As best I can figure they fall in the same category for me as leprechauns and pint-sized circus clowns: small and untrustworthy. That untrustworthiness might have been the catalyst to my theory that Callan Wolf was using this trip as an execution mission, just biding his time and waiting for the perfect moment to lay waste to my life and leave me bleeding and clinging to life in a ditch somewhere in the backwoods of Tennessee. I mean, why else would an over privileged nine-year-old want to spend Christmas in a trailer park with his father and the mistress he left his mother for? Yeah, child assassins not as far fetched as it sounds, is it now?
Currently, the boy was situated in a random lawn chair being either entertained or emotionally scarred by my father’s war stories as my idiot Uncle’s Eddie, Wayne and Knock-Knock watched on while lazily sipping Pabst Blue Ribbon now that the Coors Lite well had run dry. The women folk were still hurriedly scurrying around between trailers with covered dishes and ancient tupperware, each one fretting over her “signature dish” and whether or not it would “hold” in the chilly December air. I’m not exactly sure what a signature dish is or why it wouldn’t be any good cause it sat outside but I’ve never been the prime example of Bent Fork womanhood, no matter how hard my poor mother tried to train me. As if the very thought of her conjured her from thin air she appeared in front of us, plates in each hand which were promptly thrust forward with the expectation we would take them.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Charlene brought her Dorito casserole again, I swear, the dogs won’t even touch it.
« Vin Black »
…Dorito?
His eyes glazed over staring down at the orange blob on the plate in front of him. I could see the wheels turning, trying to make some sort of sense of the variety of shapes and colors, desperate to identify even one ingredient.
« Vhodka Marie »
Why are you giving it to us? We don’t want it either.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Excuse me? Did I ask for back sass?
« Vhodka Marie »
No ma’am.
« Vin Black »
Is this... a meat?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Her husband died and now she lives all alone, not a soul in the world to call her family. Isn't that just the saddest thing you ever heard? Poor thing’ll be crushed if her dish is the only one that doesn’t get eaten.
« Vhodka Marie »
Bill died?! When did that happen?
« Vin Black »
Did he eat the casserole before his demise?
Beulah narrowed her eyes at Vincent, delicate doll-like hands on her hips as she raised her chin a fraction of an inch and stared him down with the same heat one might find in the molten center of an overcooked pizza roll.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Now her -
She pointed a finger at me for emphasis, eyes never leaving the man in front of her as a sort of battle of wills played out in front of me. Twenty bucks on my mom. Vin has the size advantage and the training but my Mom is scrappy and mean as hell.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Her I expect this kind of behavior from. But you, you I expect better. You’re supposed to be setting a good example for her.
« Vin Black »
I feel like you’ve grossly misunderstood who I am as a person.
He paused and then smiled slyly.
« Vin Black »
Besides, she’s an animal. Not even Steve Guttenberg himself could get this one to toe the line.
« Vhodka Marie »
How dare you bring The Gute into this. That man is a national treasure!
« Vin Black »
You’d ruin him.
« Vhodka Marie »
Would not!
« Vin Black »
He’d be Mickey Rourke by the time he got away from you.
« Vhodka Marie »
Nick Nolte, maybe. But Mickey Rourke? That’s hurtful.
My arms instinctually folded across my chest as a form of self-protection as I looked away from them and to the woods beyond. Some might say I was sulking, but some was an idiot and didn’t know anything about nothing! Though when I spoke again even I had to admit there was a certain sullenness to it.
« Vhodka Marie »
I’m not that bad.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Oh, don’t get a burr in your britches. He was just foolin’. Weren’t you, Vincent?
« Vin Black »
Yes. I am fooling.
« Vhodka Marie »
I don’t believe you.
« Vin Black »
I would never jeopardize your britches.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Lord help me! It was bad enough with you and your Daddy, now there’s three of you. If I didn’t know any better I’d say this is my penance for talking about Mrs. Crowley’s hair lip at book club.
« Vhodka Marie »
God can’t punish you for that, everyone talks about Mrs. Crowley’s hair lip. Even the preacher talks about Mrs. Crowley’s hair lip.
« Beulah May Bickett »
You bite your tongue, he’d never. Certain things you just don’t say about your wife.
« Vin Black »
Did she help make this casserole?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Not that I know of. Why do you ask?
« Vin Black »
Because I was hoping this short curly hair might have come from her lip and not any of the other places now flashing before my eyes.
My mother and I both leaned in at the same time to peer at the dish he held in his hands. Sure enough, there was a short curly black hair sticking up from the right side of the gelatinous blob like a little flag planted by tiny casserole people certifying this casserole as their discovery. My mother puckered her lips in thought before leaning back and looking casually away from us.
« Beulah May Bickett »
That’s a sprinkle.
« Vhodka Marie »
You liar!
« Beulah May Bickett »
No one will believe you. I’m an institution in this town. Revered.
« Vin Black »
This sprinkle looks like it belongs stuck to a bar of soap.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Eat around it.
« Vin Black »
I will do no such thing.
« Beulah May Bickett »
If you don’t eat it I’ll tell Buck where to find the bullets I hid from him.
« Vin Black »
I’d rather take my chances with his shotgun over this woman's casserole.
Beulah and Vincent stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before finally she threw her hands in the air and heaved an irritated sigh. He’d won, I was impressed.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Fine! Throw it in the woods when no one is looking. Maybe one of the raccoons will eat it, they eat everything.
« Vhodka Marie »
Not even a Hoover would consent to this being inside of it.
My mother went to speak in what I am sure would have been defense of the devil casserole but before she could get a word out we were joined by Vincent’s son Callan who was looking leerily at the plates of food in our hands, seemingly weighing whether or not he too would be forced to ingest the mystery concoction by joining the conversation. Beulah softened instantly, the hard woman from before melting away into the perfect picture of grandmotherly warmth as she wrapped an arm around Call’s shoulders. Call Wolf, can you believe his parents call him that? Poor kid, never had a chance.
« Callan Wolf »
PePaw Buck says that he’ll take me out hunting tomorrow with him and some other people.
« Vhodka Marie »
Oh great, arm him.
« Vin Black »
He’s already armed.
Vincent said quietly to no one in particular as I turned to the nine-year-old in horror. Callan ignored me, staring at his father with a look I couldn’t quite decipher before bristling like a bird settling its feathers as he turned to face me, eyes deader than the pig the hot dogs in this casserole came from.
« Callan Wolf »
Could have had you earlier in the truck when he got out to get gas.
Oh my god, how careless had I been? All along I thought I was one step ahead of him but in actuality he was just biding his time, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. My throat was closing up, I couldn’t breathe, I just didn—hold up, why is he laughing. This kid is a psycho, I tell you!
« Vin Black »
Good, but next time keep it going longer.
« Callan Wolf »
I thought she might have a heart attack.
« Vhodka Marie »
What are you talking about?! He’s going to kill me!
« Vin Black »
He’s not going to kill you.
« Vhodka Marie »
Yes he is, look at him! He’s a lunatic!
« Vin Black »
He is. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to kill you.
« Vhodka Marie »
You’re sure about that?
« Vin Black »
Yes. I’m going to kill you in your sleep, we talked about this.
« Vhodka Marie »
YOU SAID THAT YOU WOULD NEVER DO THAT!
« Vin Black »
I did, didn’t I? Okay, I’m not going to kill you in your sleep.
Beulah tsked at us to draw everyone's attention. She didn’t cotton to this sort of talk and she made it known with the steely disapproving gaze only a mother can give.
« Beulah May Bickett »
That’s enough of that talk. Come inside and help me find the boy Little Chop’s old hunting gear to wear out. Buck likes to get an early start and I don’t want to be digging through trailers at four in the morning looking for the right color mossy oak.
She turned, taking Call’s hand in her own as they strode toward one of the smaller sub trailer's that split time between guest rooms and extra storage. Vincent looked at me waiting for the signal, after a quick nod of the head the plates were tossed over our shoulders towards the woods. He spoke as he trailed behind my mother and his son.
« Vin Black »
Little Chop?
« Vhodka Marie »
Son of Pork Chop.
« Vin Black »
Pork Chop?
« Vhodka Marie »
That’s his dad’s name, yeah.
« Vin Black »
Explain.
« Vhodka Marie »
It’s not his real name but it’s what he’s been called since he was a kid. Story goes, he was so ugly they had to tie a pork chop around his neck to get the dog to play with him.
« Vin Black »
When Ally was little Damon had to hide her face in a bag so kids would play with her. He had to keep the bag full of oats so she wouldn’t remove it.
« Vhodka Marie »
Also, he just eats a shit ton. Dude is huge.
« Vin Black »
They should require a passport for this place.
The small trailer felt like a sardine can by the time Vincent, Call, my mother and myself all managed to squeeze inside. Due to his abnormal size that was likely the result of living next to some gnarly powerlines or something, Vincent was made to sit at the small table in the back of the trailer as my mother methodically tore through hidden storage area’s in the trailer looking for anything that vaguely resembled hunting gear. Call was by her side, following direction without comment as she directed him where to place items that she had forgotten she owned and now suddenly had a use for. At last, she pulled a duffle bag from the hidden storage compartment underneath the bench seat of what I assume was intended to function as a couch. From the bag several items of clothing were pulled and held up for inspection before being handed to Call. The boy stopped when he received the shirt, staring at it in silence for a moment.
« Callan Wolf »
This is blood.
« Beulah May Bickett »
A small stain.
« Callan Wolf »
There is a hole in the center of the stain.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Don’t worry, he made a full recovery.
Before he could respond a knock sounded from the other side of the trailer door. The knocker did not wait to be called in but rather flung the door open with probably a bit more gusto than he had originally intended. My father was shitfaced, a lazy smile permanently at home on his face as he stepped in enough to make room for whoever was behind him, leaning against the counter across from the door next to where Vincent sat.
« Buck Bickett »
Look who I found wanderin’ round outside.
From the open door emerged a rather tanned brunette, tall for a woman but still a few inches shorter than my father. Well, she would have been if it wasn’t for the three-inch heel on the riding boots her feet were shoved into. She was Alexis Austin: former World Champion wrestler of the early aughts, currently retired lesbian of the roaring twenties and the closest thing I had to a sister. She also was NOT supposed to be here. My father stood there smiling in his inebriated haze while my mother suddenly made herself very busy, looking anywhere but any of the people currently standing in the trailer. Alexis registered my presence with vague confusion that settled into absolute panic the moment she took stock of the people in the room and realized that Vincent was sitting beside where my father stood. She widened her eyes at me, willing me to understand.
« Alexis Austin »
Chicken pot pie.
The words meant nothing to the others standing there and they stared at her silently trying to work out the meaning. It was a code, one that only Alexis and I knew, and by her saying it at this moment it meant that my world was about to go up in flames. Before Alexis and I recovered enough to do anything a girl of no more than twelve stepped inside the trailer and everything suddenly started moving in slow motion as she took an empty space between Alexis in the doorway and Vincent and my father on the other side of the trailer. Even my mother, my guilty dirty dog of a mother, stopped and looked at her. The girl smiled suddenly and the world moved back to its original pace as she moved to hug Beulah in a way that suggested much more familiarity than they should have.
« Ripley Austin »
Merry Christmas, Grammy B.
My mother hugged her tightly, placing a kiss on the top of her head before releasing her so that she stood back in her original spot between Alexis and Vincent. The room was silence, heavy weighted silence that you could practically cut with a knife. My father looked between us smiling at first too drunk to understand what was occurring around him before he finally looked at Vincent and the lightbulb went on. The drunken smile disappeared as he looked between Vincent and the girl, thoughts flowing across his face like clouds passing by the sun. Vincent’s eyes were steadily on the girl, as unwavering as they were unreadable. My mother’s voice startled me so much that I flinched.
« Beulah May Bickett »
My goodness it’s crowded in here. Call why don’t you and Ripley come with me and we’ll go put these things in your trailer so they don’t get misplaced.
She moved quickly, ushering the two children out of the trailer and into the night beyond before anyone could protest. Alexis took a heavy breath, shoving her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she stared down at the floor wishing she was anywhere but here in this moment. My father shifted in place, running a hand through his hair and looking like he’d aged ten years in the past sixty seconds. I don’t remember standing but before I knew it I was at the door with my hand wrapped tightly around Alexis’ bicep, pulling her out the door behind me and abandoning the two most important men in my life. My body was on autopilot operating without my brain as I led Alexis up the stairs and into the guest trailer where Vincent and I were supposed to be staying for this trip. I collapsed on the bed, head in my hands while Alexis paced the tiny space like some caged animal anxious to be outside in the December night.
« Vhodka Marie »
Jesus Christ.
« Alexis Austin »
This is bad. This is so bad.
« Vhodka Marie »
Tell me something I don’t know.
« Alexis Austin »
Your father knows, he knows, man. I saw his face.
« Vhodka Marie »
Can you stop panicking for a moment so I can have a turn?
She stopped and looked at me, realizing for the first time that she wasn’t the only one with something on the line tonight. The bed shifted as she sat beside me, elbows on her knees and hands clasped in front of her.
« Alexis Austin »
You’re right. Sorry.
« Vhodka Marie »
Alex. What the fuck, man?
« Alexis Austin »
I would have never brought her here if I would have known that he was here. You know that.
« Vhodka Marie »
Why did you bring her here in the first place? Why are either of you here?
She started to speak but didn’t get very far before the door opened and my mother stepped inside the trailer looking not half as guilty as she should have looked at this very moment.
« Vhodka Marie »
You.
« Beulah May Bickett »
I beg your pardon?
« Vhodka Marie »
Don’t you give me that shit. You know exactly what I’m talking about, mother.
Beulah May was a tough woman and not used to being the person in the hot seat, usually she was the one giving the third degree, not receiving it. She shifted uncomfortably in place, hands mottled together as she searched for the thing to say that would get her in the least about of trouble. My, how the tides have turned.
« Alexis Austin »
Alright, come on now, it’s not all on her.
My eyebrows flew up about four inches off my face, at least that’s what it felt like as I stared at the woman beside me. You give someone ONE JOB..
« Alexis Austin »
Don’t give me that look, I’m not scared of your scrawny ass.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Now is not the time for fighting, girls.
« Vhodka Marie »
Someone better start giving me some answers or I’m going to start bashing heads until I get them.
« Beulah May Bickett »
You wouldn’t dare!
« Vhodka Marie »
Try me. I don’t have anything to lose at this point.
« Alexis Austin »
Calm down, alright, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.
« Vhodka Marie »
Where is Vin?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Your father seemed to sense the urgency and is currently pouring a bottle of bourbon down his throat. God bless him, he finally proves useful for something.
« Vhodka Marie »
Gonna take more than a bottle for this.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Wayne and Eddie went to get the ‘shine. By the time you come out of this trailer he won’t even know what a child is.
« Vhodka Marie »
Okay. Okay, I’m gonna be calm but someone for the love of god please start talking.
« Alexis Austin »
B, you take this one.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Well, you know Alexis and I have kept in touch. She’s like a daughter to me.
« Vhodka Marie »
Mhm.
« Beulah May Bickett »
About a year after you fell off the face of the earth I ended up in her neck of the woods on a girl's trip to the casino and thought I would stop by and surprise her. You know, check in and make sure that she was doing okay and see if maybe she had heard from you. We didn’t know where you had gone and we were all just so worried... I just wanted to talk to someone.
« Alexis Austin »
I was having a rough day and must have looked like hell when I opened the door, she knew immediately that something was wrong.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Then I heard the baby crying in the house.
« Alexis Austin »
You know how your mother is, the minute she saw me and heard the baby crying she just sort of muscled her way inside before I could stop her. I told her that I had a one-night thing with someone at work and gotten pregnant and that’s why I had to retire from the business so suddenly. I remember, she patted my knee and told me not to worry and that I didn’t have to do it alone anymore.
Alexis smiled up at my mother who sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they bumped their heads together. It was very sweet, but it also did nothing to explain why they had ruined my life.
« Beulah May Bickett »
From that day on, I started making regular trips up to help Alex out with the baby and check in on them. Sometimes it was just a quick visit to make sure everything was alright, sometimes your daddy and I would go up and babysit so she could take a day off to relax. As the years went on and the baby got older... well, one day the baby was in my lap and we were reading a book. All of a sudden, the baby looked up at me and smiled and when I looked down it was your face staring back at me.
« Alexis Austin »
I tried to throw her off the trail but she wouldn’t have it. She threatened to put me over her knee if I didn’t come clean.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Your father wouldn’t have been able to handle it and he didn’t need to know so we never told him that the baby was yours. Crickett, why didn’t you tell me?
« Vhodka Marie »
Nope, not there yet. Get to the part that caused THIS to happen.
« Alexis Austin »
I’ve been bringing her for all the major holidays since then. She told me that you weren’t going to be here on Christmas because you were spending it in Parts with the Pack.
« Vhodka Marie »
I was but Vin changed his mind. But we TOLD her weeks ago.
Alexis and I both turned to look at Beulah who had the grace to look embarrassed.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Help me understand. You two are together now, he already has children from his previous marriage. Why keep it a secret anymore?
« Vhodka Marie »
You... did this. On purpose?
In that moment I would have been less shocked if she suddenly pulled her face off and revealed herself as Barbara Walters like some Scooby Doo villain. This wasn’t an accident. This was planned, premeditated and organized by my mother. Shock didn’t even begin to cover it. Alexis stood and backed slowly towards the door, not wanting to be in the middle of what was to come.
« Alexis Austin »
I’m going to go make sure Vincent is drunk enough. Then I think I’ll follow his lead. Hey uh, merry Christmas?
We hardly noticed her leave as we stared at each other, my mother blushing in the face of my astonishment of her actions. She knew she had done a bad thing yet it was like she didn’t really feel all that bad about it. Her own daughter. Why?
« Vhodka Marie »
Mama. Mother. Why?
« Beulah May Bickett »
It’s time, Crickett.
« Vhodka Marie »
You don’t get to decide that! This is not your child.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Well, when was it going to be time? You would have taken this to your grave and made Alex follow suit. I know you, Jo.
« Vhodka Marie »
And what's so wrong with that?
« Beulah May Bickett »
You aren’t God! You don’t get to fool around with people's lives like this and pretend reality is whatever the hell you want it to be. I’ve babied you for far too long, it’s time to step up and be an adult.
« Vhodka Marie »
I can’t believe you’re doing this. My own mother. You’re supposed to have my back! In everything!
« Beulah May Bickett »
No. Not this time.
« Vhodka Marie »
Why? Everything was fine! Everyone was happy!
« Beulah May Bickett »
That girl deserves to know her father AND her mother. She doesn’t deserve to go through her entire life thinking that the man who fathered her abandoned her. Besides that, Vincent deserves to know that he has another child out there in the world. He’s a good man, a good father, she deserves him.
« Vhodka Marie »
That’s bullshit and you know it. You did this for yourself, not for anyone else.
« Beulah May Bickett »
You’re upset right now. After some time you’ll realize this was the right decision.
« Vhodka Marie »
Have you even stopped to logistically consider what this means for all of us?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Don’t be ridiculous, of course I have. You’ll tell Vincent and the girl and then you three can start making up for lost time.
« Vhodka Marie »
You think that’s how it’s going to go? Okay, so I sit down and tell this kid what exactly? That her father and I were married to other people and he knocked me up? That he told me to get rid of it rather than his wife find out he’d been having an affair? Do I tell her how he never wanted children? Should I go tell his children that too while I’m at it? Do I tell her I made the appointment and drove all the way to the clinic with every intention of aborting her? That I didn’t want her any more than he did?
Her face crumbled then, unshed tears making her eyes shine like Christmas lights reflecting off rain puddles. My mother was a good woman, a saint actually, and I knew somewhere in me that her intentions had been pure. She was raised that women grew up, got married and had babies. That was the way of the world in Bent Fork. In her mind, everything else in my life had just been a mere detour on my way to the pinnacle of Bent Forkian womanhood. God help her, I think she truly believed that by doing this we’d end up married and raising babies in a trailer next door just like she’d always hoped for. There was a part of me that wished I could give that dream to her, that I could make her proud in all the ways she had hoped. But an even bigger part of me knew what a disaster that life would have been for me. Maybe once upon a time I had seriously thought of that life, tended the idea of it like a sole seed in an overcast garden, just hoping for the day it would sprout through the soil. But the rain had never come and the winter was harsh and that seed, for whatever reason, had never sprouted. I’d made amends with that sometime ago but my mother was still out there, watering soil that would never produce a crop. It didn’t make me feel good to watch her hunch in on herself with the realization that her daughter was not the person she wanted her to be. I knew that she was disappointed in me and in herself. Because to my mother, it had to have been her fault in some way that I was so defective. Just like that, the winds of anger that had been propelling my sails died and all that was left was me, hopeless and small sitting beside my crying mother who was grieving the daughter she would never have. As my hand found her back and made small soothing circles, I quietly hoped that one day she would learn to love the daughter she had.
« Vhodka Marie »
I’m sorry.
« Beulah May Bickett »
No, no. You’re right. I made a mess of things for you.
« Vhodka Marie »
You didn’t mean to. You thought you were helping.
« Beulah May Bickett »
I’m a stupid woman.
« Vhodka Marie »
That’s where I get it from?
Beulah snorted, wiping at her eyes as she lifted her head to look at me. I smiled, not because I felt like it but because more than anything, I wanted her to smile. Just when my life was finally starting to turn around in all the ways I had always wanted she had come and set a match to it. I wanted to rage and break things and scream and cry, but instead, I sat and I tried to make my mother laugh. Because in some small way, watching her cry was even worse than my world crumbling down around me.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Don’t be silly. You get that from your Father’s side.
She elbowed me, staring shell shocked at my face as she searched for the words that would fix it all.
« Vhodka Marie »
I’ll figure it out.
« Beulah May Bickett »
What can I do to help?
« Vhodka Marie »
I have to defend my title at the PPV against Michelle Moore. You go do the match; I’ll call Maury Povich and get Vin and I booked on the show.
« Beulah May Bickett »
The way I’m feeling right now I’m not sure if I could fight my way out of a soggy paper bag.
« Vhodka Marie »
Then at least you and Michelle will be at the same skill level.
« Beulah May Bickett »
I’ve made a mess of your focus, haven’t I?
« Vhodka Marie »
Little bit, yeah.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Well, I may not be able to fix this business here but the least I can do is give you a pep talk.
« Vhodka Marie »
Oh goody.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Nevermind.
Her voice was hurt, and her body language closed up. My head instantly sagged as I sighed, doing a mental ten count. Man, you’d think someone had just ruined her life and not the other way around.
« Vhodka Marie »
Don’t be like that. Give me your pep talk, I need it. I don’t know how I can go out there and defend a title knowing that when I get out of the ring my entire world could be in shambles.
« Beulah May Bickett »
You go out there and you focus on business. You take care of what needs doing, the way we raised you to be. If you lose your title because someone else was just a little bit better than you that day then that’s one thing but you are not going to go out there and lose just because your head isn’t in the game. This other stuff will work itself out, you just have to go out there and do what I know you can do.
« Vhodka Marie »
Win?
« Beulah May Bickett »
I was going to say knock that girls' teeth in but yes, win would work too.
« Vhodka Marie »
Knock her teeth in? Really, Mama?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Don’t give me that tone. Just cause I’m your mother doesn’t mean I haven’t been in a few scraps back in my day.
« Vhodka Marie »
I’d pay money to see you in a fight.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Tell you what, you go out there and handle business and I’ll tell you some stories that’ll make you proud.
« Vhodka Marie »
I’m always proud of you.
« Beulah May Bickett »
And I’m always proud of you.
She hugged me to her and kissed my head the way she had done thousands of times in my life though I’m not sure that I ever needed it more than I did in that moment. I almost wanted to call her back as she stepped out of the trailer door leaving me alone for the first time in days, but before I could open my mouth and get the words out she was gone and the door was shut quietly behind her. What the hell was I going to do now? How did I begin to explain this to Vincent? To our daughter? To everyone else? As if the affair becoming public wasn’t bad enough now this would go public too. I couldn’t do this right now. I needed to focus on business, distract myself from the messy secrets I had spent the last decade trying to keep hidden. I may not have known what I needed to do about my personal life but I damn sure knew what I needed to do about Michelle.
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
« Vhodka Marie »
I have to admit, it has surprised even me how earth shattering my return has been to this business. I can be out of the game for so long, barely an afterthought in anyone's mind and then as if out of nowhere I show up here and suddenly I’m The Belle of the Brawl, the most popular girl in school, literally stamping out the spotlight from all the rest of you. Everyone loves me! And I for one am absolutely loving the attention you all are so selflessly devoting to me. You’re making my comeback the stuff of legends. Take a look around and see who doesn’t have my name on the tip of their tongues. Hell, I even have my own official fan club they call FoCuS but what we all really know is short for “focused on Vhodka”. They court me, they try to bribe me, hell, one of them even proposed marriage. They just want the Phoebe Cates of OPW to climb out of their swimming pool so bad it’s almost a little pathetic. They should be focused on their takeover of the company, their ascent to the top, but instead they’re too busy trying to figure out the best ways to get even just a dollop of my attention every single week. Not very smart, kids, not very smart at all. See, while you’re all turned around and watching me like the fans you are, you're missing the things happening behind you. Goodness gracious, you would think they’re all jilted ex-lovers with how frequently they bleat on about me to literally anyone who will listen. Ironically, the real problem is that aside from Stephen Stratford and Brandon Moore, all the rest of FoCuS has come down with a serious schoolyard crush on yours truly. Paul, Joe, Cam and even Michelle are out here simping for Vhodka Marie on the daily just beside themselves that cannot seem to gain my favor. Hell, I guess the fact that I broke up the most sacred unbreakable marriage in the business has made everyone a little curious about how I’m putting it down behind closed doors.
Unfortunately, for the boys and girl of FoCuS, they’ll never get to know what it’s like. See, people like Michelle like to sit around making up revisionist history, so to speak. They’ll talk about me being easy and prattle on and on about how I’ve slept my way to the top but when you look at the actual facts, they’ve nothing to back it up. The thing about me is that I can own my shit, for better or for worse. I can sit here and tell you all that yes, I was a mistress and yes, I did help to destroy a marriage. We can talk about the fact that I married Bryan Dyamond, a man who is not only an embarrassment to me but to this business entirely. But I can stand up, hold my head high and take accountability of the less than stellar choices I’ve sometimes made in my life. Had I been driven through more times than an automated car wash like Michelle I would stand up and own that too, but alas, just because Michelle was easy doesn’t mean that everyone else is too. But no matter how many times little Michelle wants to call me a ring rat the fact of the matter is there are only two men in my entire career that Michelle or anyone else can factually link me to. And very unlike Michelle, when I talk I can actually back it up. So, when I tell you that Michelle’s been scratched more than a cotton candy scented sticker in a kindergarten class you can believe it. Here’s another difference between Michelle and myself though, even though I and everyone else knows these things I’m not going to sit here and shame her for them or try to use them to somehow position myself as superior just because my bedpost has a few less notches in it than her own. I may not like Michelle, we may never find ourselves as friends, but what she does with her body is her own business. Would it be easy to sit here and compare her to a glazed donut someone rammed a 2x4 through? Yes, yes it would. But it’s high time for women in this line of work to get some new material and like usual, I’ll be the woman leading the pack to the forefront of a new era starting with this match at Drugs, Sex and Rock N Roll.
I’m sure it comes as a surprise to no one that Michelle doesn’t really seem to like me. Which is weird cause I mean, what’s not to like? But never the less, I just continue to be a thorn in that woman’s side and after spending some time thinking it over trying to figure out where all this friction between us came from it dawned on me. Jealousy. Michelle Moore is flat out beside herself with jealousy every single time my name comes up in conversation. Does it bother you that I eclipsed your little comeback, Michelle? How about the fact that I walk into our match the champion while you walk in as a piece of nostalgia, maybe that’s what's got you all hot and bothered. Maybe... or is it all the attention I’m getting while you sit on the bleachers at the school dance hoping one of the nerds will finally work up the courage to ask you to slow dance? There was a time when you were in demand, a real hot commodity as they say but those days are long gone now. Now all you do is sit around and tell me how I need to stop trying to be relevant to “these boys” as if I care at all what “these boys” think of me. And let's dive into that a bit. What exactly am I doing that makes you think I am trying to be witty and relevant to “these boys” you talk about? Do you even know what you’re talking about or do you just want me to stop diverting all the attention away from you and you can’t figure out how to say that without sounding as desperate and pathetic as you truly are. But while I may not care about what “these boys” think of me you care what they think of you, don’t ya Michelle? They used to put you on a pedestal and now...nothing. You’re like the aging film star whose phone only rings when they need to cast someone in the role of a mother and that is a far cry away from your days as a hot young ingenue. It’s almost as tragic as your present-day career. For all your bravado and big talk you couldn’t even beat your little niece Allison Riggs Preston. Geez, that’s got to be pretty embarrassing, right? Here you are in the back talking this great big game about how absolutely terrible little Allie is and then she goes and straight up embarrasses you at Showcase. Are you even going to be able to show your face for our match? I’d be embarrassed as hell if I lost to Damon Rigg’s little Pokeball. You know, it almost makes me feel bad for you. You could have chosen to go out on “top” with what little reputation you had built for yourself but instead you let someone who didn’t have your best interest at heart talk you in to coming back and now you’re going to end your career as a joke. The legendary Miss Michelle reduced to nothing more than a mid-card jobber. But hey, mid-card is where you’ve made your whole career so you should at least feel right at home.
It’s a shame you’ve spent your time so worried about what everyone else is doing and not worried enough about what you’re doing. Had you had even just the tiniest bit of self-reflection maybe you could have seen the writing on the wall before it was too late. But now you are stuck waist deep in the quicksand and sinking faster every single week. It won’t be long now before FoCuS starts to realize that unless you’re facing no talent new comers you aren’t anything to them but a liability. I wonder what FoCuS does to liabilities? How long until FoCuS gets tired of watching you lose? Call me crazy, but none of them seem like particularly patient men. You do have one thing going for you though and that’s the fact you’re married to one half of the OPW Tag Team Champions – the only people in FoCuS who actually have any gold. Your big brother may disagree with me but I feel like this is one time where your marriage is actually a good thing. Sleeping with one of the champs offers you a certain level of protection, keeps the rest of the boys from kicking you to the curb. If I were you, which thank God I'm not, but if I were, I would hope and pray that Brandon continues to see success not just because he’s your husband but because he’s the only thing standing between you and shit creek sans paddle.
What else is there really to say about Michelle Moore? The woman who likes to talk about how many times she beat me.... twenty years ago. Sure, Michelle, if that’s all you have to cling to while you sit there with your... oh wait, you don’t have a title because OPW doesn’t have a Diva’s title. God, sucks when the world changes around you and you forget to keep up. You have to admire her though, I mean, not a lot of people can remain stagnant for such an impressive amount of time. Most people would have had some personal growth, maybe learned a few things, nope, not Michelle! She’s still just sitting around regurgitating old quips about all the women in the company being easy because back in her day that’s all it took to earn a paycheck and a joke title you could pretend meant something. Here’s a question for you, what of any importance has she done lately? Let me know when you think of something. I mean, seriously, has she done anything relevant in the last year? Two years? Five years? Hell, has she done ANYTHING in the last decade? Michelle, honey, baby, sweetie, just call a spade a spade and be a valet. We all know that’s really all you are anyway.
I know that you find yourself surrounded by people like Joe Montuori that like to whisper in your ear how amazing you are and how it’s only a matter of time before you’re holding gold here in OPW and while you may eventually rise to the level of the X-Tradition or Prestige titles I can tell you that so long as I am holding the number two belt in this company, you will never ever be the OPW Southern Heavyweight Champion. It’s very simple really, there is a reason that you’re a glorified valet for FoCuS meanwhile I am standing shoulder to shoulder with the Immortal Champion and competing at the top of the show every week. And while I already know what reason you’ll spout off for it the real reason comes down to a little something called talent. No, not the talent you like to talk about me having, though thanks for the compliment. I mean actual wrestling talent, something I have and you lack. Let's look at you as a whole, shall we? And that’s whole with a W not with an H. What does Miss Michelle have going on in her life? Well, she’s in FoCuS along with like six other people. Ummm... she was held hostage by Blair and Johnny for a time, that is a thing that happened. I feel like she might have some sort of staff position in OPW though I couldn’t tell you the last time she used it to actually do anything of meaning. Am I missing anything? Is that it? I would say walking around her house drinking coffee but that really seems more of like a personal hobby than anything of substance. Michelle, what do you actually do? What are you bringing to the table here at OPW? Hell, what are you bringing to the table for FoCuS? Did they just let you join because hubby did and it was a package deal? I mean, if you weren’t his wife would they have even wanted you in their group in the first place when you really offer nothing at all to strengthen their mission? Maybe that’s why the boys in FoCuS are so obsessed with me, maybe they just want an actual useful woman around for a change. One that wins matches, wins titles, one that commands attention from every single person in this company. You might have been a household name at one time Michelle but those days are long gone and with them so are the days when you could coast by on the merits of what you did a million years ago. Did you beat me back in the day? Honestly, I can’t remember but we’ll say sure, yeah, you beat me back in the day. But the real question is, can you beat me now? Spoiler alert for you babe, the answer is no. Not on your best day, not on my worst.
Where does that leave us, Miss Michelle? We’ve got this match coming up and I know as well as you know that if it’s a clean fight I’ll be walking out the same way that I walked in and that’s as the champ. Knowing that no doubt you’ll have the goon squad come on down to try to spin the wheel and help you win fabulous prizes, right? Well, that’s just fine Michelle, just fine and dandy. While you have FoCuS in your corner, I have Syndicate in mine and pound for pound Syndicate is the big dog in this company whether your associates like to admit it or not. You bring Brandon Moore, I’ll bring Vincent Black. You bring Joe Montuori then I’m calling down Johnny Stylez. Paul Montuori? Here comes Xavier Wolf. You want to make it a Family Feud because you can’t stand on your own two feet well then, by God bring’em all down girl. We’ll embarrass your whole crew. Talent isn’t on your side; the numbers aren’t on your side either. There is only one way our match is ending and that’s with you flat on your back and me standing over you. My only hope is that maybe this loss to me will finally be the thing that lights a fire under your ass. Maybe this will be the moment of realization for you that it’s time to either get your shit together, woman up and take your career seriously or go home and play Suzy Homemaker to Brandon. Are you an accessory, Michelle? Are you the Skipper to Brandon’s Barbie? The Booster to Turbo Man? The David Spade to Chris Farley? You and David Spade actually have a lot in common now that I think about it. He too was semi successful twenty years ago, hell, there was a time when David Spade was considered A-List just like you. You know what David Spade is up to these days? He’s doing bit parts and taking pity paychecks from Adam Sandler every few years just to keep himself afloat.
Take a look around you and you’ll soon see that it’s a new age, Michelle. Diva’s divisions have long been gone, there are no bleached blonde bimbos here for you to trade witty repertoire with every week. The women that are in this company now are here because they have something to prove, something to offer. Do you have anything left to offer me? Do you have anything left to offer anyone else? Most importantly, do you have anything left to offer yourself? I know you Michelle, I’ve known you almost my entire career. I know that you have an ego, I know that you have pride and vanity and a mean streak bigger than JMont’s forehead. Where is it? Is it sitting at home on your pretty white couch with its hair in a bun sucking down Starbucks like it’s last call at 2am? Let me say it loud and clear for you: wake it the fuck up or quit wasting everyone's time.
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
Sometimes life throws you a fuckin’ curveball. I’d had enough of them lately that I wasn’t willing to let Michelle Moore be another one of them. I didn’t know what to do about my personal life and couldn’t even begin to formulate a plan to tackle it. But I could fight. I could go out to that ring at Drugs, Sex and Rock N Roll and stand there across from Michelle and put every single fucking curveball life had throw my way right overtop of her face like a cheap dollar store Halloween mask. Then I could pound the fuck out of it until it was nothing more than pulp that vaguely resembled something humanoid. After I had metaphorically pulverized all the shitty fucking things that had been put in my path and led to me having to leave the business I love for so many years... THEN just maybe, I could finally move forward.