+ The Epiphany : What About? +
Jun 21, 2021 22:50:56 GMT -5
somethingwicked, Miss Michelle, and 1 more like this
Post by codeapathy on Jun 21, 2021 22:50:56 GMT -5
What about the times you hit my face
What about the times you kept on when I said "no more please"
What about those things
What about that, what about that
What about the times you shamed me
What about the times you said you didn't fuck her
She only gave you head
What about that, what about that
Janet Jackson - What About
Janet Jackson - What About
++Atypical. Tiring all the same. The same worn out rhetoric. The same battles of egoism and self-appreciation. I had so much to do this week alone. I never asked for a title shot. I just earned it and whatever form of management OPW had left after Johnny’s timely departure felt it would be a nice big fireworks show to throw me and the power bottom Ramsey to PMont. A test of Austin’s mettle and honestly just a thorn in my side. I was beyond over PMont. Listening to his drivel had the same effect as forcing a terrorist at Gitmo to watch American propaganda films. Inhumane and just plain abuse. Actually if I were being honest I would prefer that than have to listen to PMont fellatio himself every other sentence. While I’m sure Ramsey doesn’t mind watching a good old fashioned self-cock sucking, I would rather...not. Especially when you have had tickets to the show before. The novelty of the act wears off fast when it isn’t something you haven’t already seen, since the day you set foot into the business. They weren’t important right now. No. What was important was that the wheels of the private jet had just hit the pavement and from the window next to my seat, I could see a blacked out escalade already waiting for me. I shifted in my seat and waited for the all clear from the pilot. As we came to a stop, I unbuckled my lap belt and slipped my feet back into my custom made dragon heels. Slathered from one end to the other in iridescent jewels, rose gold spikes and large chunks of crystal. Anyone could throw on some Versace and look like a Kardashian, it took a true maven to push the boundaries of what style and fashion was, with a viper like attitude to match. As the fishnet slid into the curve of the heels I extended my hand, double checking my manicure. Sleek black varnish? Check. Holographic dragon scales? Check. Mini metal studs for accents? Check. The pilot emerged from the cockpit to give the all clear and I stood as the hatch to the plane was opened. Down the ramp and to the Escalade. I could vaguely make out the figure of someone else in the backseat. Smaller. Feminine. Aria. As the driver opened the door I slide inside, turning my head to greet her++
Elizabeth: Aria.
Aria: Elizabeth: How was your flight? Uneventful?
Elizabeth: Just as I like them. Quiet, no turbulence and short. You have news for me, don’t you?
Aria: The target is still in play. Codename Fury has abandoned his orders. He had a clear opening to take all targets out cleanly, and we were at the ready to make it look like a tragic accident but Code Fury abandoned the objective and fled. May I speak frankly?
Elizabeth: You may. Proceed.
Aria: Your man lost his nerve at the sight of the kids. Doing the wife in was of no consequence, but seeing the kids triggered his memories of his time with Miss. Ophelia and her child. He’s fled Australia. Intel says he is headed back to stateside. Are there...new objectives?
Elizabeth: Contact Koresh. Let him know the situation. It will remain business as usual on this end so that it appears welcoming and non-threatening. He will crawl back to us. We will hear his reasoning and then...proceed from there. Do you have news for me about Eoin?
Aria: In Ireland, as he said he would be. He accessed his dead mothers records. It would seem as though he’s giving his pitiful little brother a history lesson in how destructive their father was.
Elizabeth: Good. Good. Let him be for now. Just keep close tabs in case his pal from the orphanage or one of his plants show up because I know it’s coming. Their hooks aren’t in and they need to sweeten the pot. For now we observe. Is Annika already at the cemetery?
Aria: Yes. I’m still perplexed as to why she would request this meeting, on today of all days.
Elizabeth: I’m not. I have been waiting for this. It’s a funny thing Aria, you can bury a corpse but not their sins or secrets. Those linger. Occasionally they see the light of day and today is that day. Oh! I see you actually took my craving seriously….
++I reached to the cup holder, slipping my fingers around a very large, very sweet, iced tea from McDonalds. It was a guilty pleasure. Sweet tea had grown on me from living in the southern states for so long. In fact a lot of things grew on me from my time living in the south. I pursed my lips around the big red straw and sucked down a gulp. Heaven. I rested my head back, sloshing the ice in the drink back and forth as the Escalade made its way to Fairmount. Aria relaxed her stance, becoming more sociable and turned, partly facing me++
Aria: The sweet tea wasn’t the only thing acquired. We happened to break out the diplomatic flags for the SUV, and took a pit stop at Starbucks. One strawberry funnel cake frapp and one vanilla chai frapp. Just how you like them. They are in reusable cups in a small cooler. We weren’t sure how long you would be with Annika so we wanted to make sure you were well hydrated.
Elizabeth: Oh you naughty woman. Making those poor schlubs at Starbucks think they were making drinks for a diplomat. At least say you tipped them handsomely.
Aria: I’m a shadow employee of the government, not a heartless bitch, of course they were tipped individually for their services. Ah! We’re here. This is your insertion point, we will be nearby at all times. You know the protocol. Yancy up front will be your obligatory mule. He will carry your drinks and other such things. He’s being punished.
Elizabeth: I’ll keep that in mind in the event he steps out of line. Thank you for the updates Aria. I know you won’t be here when I return. That’s the life of a ghost, eh?
Aria: We go where we are needed, and never linger. Goddess smile upon you Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: Providentia guide you.
++As I slid out of the now opened door I turned my head to see poor, pathetic, Yancy standing there, cooler in hand, cross body bag slung wide across his burly chest. He looked like a dad at Disneyworld, forced to carry the diapers, bottles, wet naps and binkys, while lugging the red flyer wagon while his wife is too busy instagramming kiddos first “magical trip” to notice her husband now resembles a pack mule more than a guy spending thousands on a trip to the hap hap happiest God damn place on earth. So I laughed. I looked at him standing there, absolutely emasculated, tail tucked between his legs and laughed. I wagged my finger, beckoning him to follow as I made my way up a gravel path. It was lined with english roses and gas light posts. Ahead I could see Annika. She was sitting on a marble bench, her hair slicked to the side. I couldn’t help but notice the absence of flowers or memorials at the foot of the obelisk. As poor downtrodden Yancy and I walked closer to her, she lifted her head and acknowledged me. No smile. No happiness. Yes. The time had come. I held out my hand silently demanding a drink from Yancy and never turned around as I heard him struggling to set things aside and fetch my drink. I heard him huff and puff, grunt and become completely exasperated by the idea of being a glorified ball boy, until the drink slid into my hand. I held up my other, making him stop and wait as I continued on, stepping in front of Annika. I took a sip of the frapp that Yancy had fumbled his way to give me, then tapped the tip of my pointed nail against the straw. There was no easy way to even begin this conversation but the time had come. I tried to remember my own disdain for my father. I had to tap into that if I would be of any use to her now. One more small sip and I hunched down in front of her++
Elizabeth: You hate him and that is okay. I hated my own father and with so much good reason. I knew eventually we would come to this, you and I. I know you have pent up years of feelings, questions and hatred, it’s okay now though Ani. You can finally let it go. Say what you need to say because I want to hear it.
Annika: Why...why was I never good enough? All he cared about was Jake. Yeah Jake went real fucking far didn’t he? Washed out of the business before his first year was up. Fired from his lush coaching position because he tested positive for roids. I never asked for anything. I just wanted him to love me but that was my fucking fault, he couldn’t even love you. He used you and he manipulated you and then threw you away like you were garbage. But he always knew where you were when he was looking for that sex he got used too. Always came around when you were vulnerable. Always tried to use your low periods as a means to make himself look like the solution to all your problems, then after he was done with you he would just shove you away like some Tijuana whore he bought and paid for. Always strutting around like some Mexican adonis when he was so full of the juice and stimulants that he was more chemical compound than man. I didn’t have to be his favorite, I just wanted him to accept me but he never could. What did I do wrong? What did I do that was so bad that he would just reject me like that?
++I was prepared for the worst but hearing those words leave her mouth cut quick like a knife. My heart ached. I felt guilt and remorse washing over me because I put her in that position. Nobody else but me. Just like I did to Fionn. She was paying for MY mistakes and that pill never became easier to swallow. I exhaled hard, then sat on the ground in front of her. I removed my heels, set them to the side and rolled up the legs to my sequin tuxedo stripe leggings and sat criss cross applesauce, taking a few more sips. I could see her eyes were puffy. She never did feel comfortable crying in front of me. I guess that comes with the territory of having a woman such as myself as a mother. Strong, independent, fierce and at times, brutal. Now that she had entered the business she approached me as less of my daughter and more of a colleague. I had to break her of that. Our ties as a mother and daughter would ALWAYS take precedence over our professional relationship. I knew she felt a burden to live up to my reputation, but I didn’t want nor expect that. My only wish was for her to find her niche in the business and find her own voice. That was a conversation for another day, no today it was about brutal truths and very raw feelings. I rubbed my toes against the granite that surrounded his grave and hung my head, ashamed++
Elizabeth: You did nothing wrong Ani. It was never you If you are looking for the reason why he treated you so poorly, just lay your gaze on me and you will find the culprit. The fault is mine. I brought you into this world. I chose to keep you when I knew he had no interest. I mean he released me from my contract when he found out I was pregnant with you. I was a side piece of ass Annika. Nothing more. I was stuck in a loveless miserable marriage with Quake and George got his hooks into me. I was working thousands of miles away from Jon, was lonely and thristy for attention and affection and George provided that. There was no “love” in that equation. It was about sex, partying and no strings attached. I was okay with that. I was the one who made the slip that allowed me to become pregnant. I got cocky. I was foolish. He knew you didn’t belong to Jon because he had heard through the vine that Jon had a vasectomy. He wanted no children. Especially after what happened with Fionn. He played the “loose whore” card on my way out insinuating that I was sleeping with multiple men in the company and it could have been ANYONE’S. He pointed the finger of blame at everyone, except himself. Indignant and pius on his pedestal even then. When you were born, only two people were there. Josiah and Frank. They were the only two who never turned their back on me in that whole mess. Do you know how you got your name??
Annika: No. You never told me and dad avoided the subject of me being a baby, because of course he fucking did.
++I stretched out my legs and let the muscles uncramp as I finished my frapp. I motioned for poor Yancy to join us, cooler and various items of life sustenance in hand. I motioned for him to sit down next to me as there was a decent amount of shade overhead. While I understood he was being administered discipline for an infraction, that was not truly my business and it WAS hot. The man was carrying my array of beverages, my vapes, my cigs the least I could do was grant him a temporary reprieve from his disciplinary action. He plopped down with an audible oof and set his burdens aside, handing me another drink. I noticed one extra sweet tea in the cooler, kept frosty in a Yeti tumbler and motioned to it and then to him, offering him some hydration. Sometimes the smallest acts of mercy and humanity, begets the most fierce loyalty. He was reluctant but took the tea and sat content nearby as I continued++
Elizabeth: Well I wanted a unique name, just as I did for Fionn. I wanted something that really encapsulated the situation surrounding you coming into this world and my defiant decision to bring you into this world. Josiah had a big Germanic culture in his life growing up. They were proud of their Germanic ancestry so he proposed the name Annika. In German it means gracious and merciful. When you were first born you were so very quiet. I feared you may have been deaf or mute, thanks to my history with drugs, but as it turns out you were just a very peaceful baby. He said your face was serene and calm when they handed you to him. You just eminanted such warmth and peace. Frank suggested your middle name, Liese. It means “God’s Promise”. It is a Hebrew and Germanic form of my name, Elizabeth. So you became Annika Liese Devereaux. In a way you were a promise as I was told, after being diagnosed with PCOS and endometriosis that the likelihood of me ever having another child was pretty slim. I know I don’t need to rehash the fact that George was not involved at all when it came to you, until his paternity angle blew up in his face. He truly was arrogant and stupid. He really believed you belonged to someone else. The look on his face when I was brought back, under his nose. I was so fucking stupid. It should have never come as a surprise when he sprung his whole “who’s your daddy?” angle live on T.V. He used you and me as a ploy for ratings and cheap heat. Do you even remember him dangling you over the ring in a fucking cage? He used you as a god damn prop for his ego and ratings buy rates! Then it all backfired….
Annika: I don’t remember that. I’m glad I don’t. He tortured you. You were completely at his mercy then, weren’t you? Why was he such a fucking monster?! Why was he so awful towards you? I just don’t understand….
++That familiar feeling of regret and shame shivered down my spine. This was deja-vu. My mind rolled back to those final hours in the hospital with Fionn. I sat desperately trying to get Cage on the phone. Eventually it was obvious he turned it off as the calls went straight to voicemail. I sat there watching her frail, weak, tired body in the bed. She knew. I knew. He wasn’t coming. All she ever was to him was a selling point, a bargaining chip. She was a photo op. Marketing material. All this time he was traveling and in every interview he mentioned his “poor, dying daughter” back home. Yet here she was, in the throes of death, he was holding her hand for her final journey and he was nowhere to be seen. Her dying now was an inconvenience as his new bimbo had just announced she was pregnant. He no longer needed Fionn. He had a new baby on the way. Forget the dying one. Fuck her. All she was worth now was sympathy blow jobs and pity fucks. It was all crystal clear in my mind, even down to the sound of her voice when she looked at me, hooked up to the machines and getting painkillers to help ease her on her way out and she reached that small, fragile arm out towards me and said “Mama, it’s okay if Daddy doesn’t make it. You’re here. You’re the best”. BUT GOD DAMNIT I WASN’T THE BEST!!!!! I was a piece of shit mother who was no better than Cage. I abandoned her and put my career first. I let the drugs take precedence over me being a mother to her. I let the sex, the money, the power and the fame FUCK IT ALL UP!!! I let it tear me away from her. I wasn’t even THERE when she got the diagnosis. A fucking CARETAKER was. A hired hand. Not her mom. Not her dad. A FUCKING GLORIFIED BABYSITTER!!! Yet there she was, in her final hours trying to reassure ME. Six god damn years old and she was reassuring her MOM that everything was okay. I never deserved her. She deserved a REAL mother. One who wasn’t a coke head. I let her down and failed her. My body jerked as I snapped back to reality. Fionn was innocent, just like Annika was. The fault was mine. I looked up to her from my seated position by the grave and let the sadness and guilt creep across my face. She tilted her head, confused++
Elizabeth: He could never accept you because he hated me. He loved me and he hated me. I was the one who took the actual DNA test. He didn’t think I had the balls. He thought he could bully me and after he took you from me, hung you over a cage for ratings, something inside me snapped. His cousin knew you were his kid. You have his eyes. You share similar facial features with Jake. He KNEW yet he was so arrogant and petty he refused to claim you. So I MADE HIM. I took the DNA test, all the “proposed” fathers took it too. It was how we found out my own Father had hid that Regehr was my half brother. All the while trying to get us to form an emotional bond and become intimate “for the sake of an heir”. That’s a whole other saga that I honestly don’t feel like divulging into right now. I digress, back to the current point, I had the DNA test preformed. Behind his back. He never knew. Not until my own Father announced it. Ani your father did polls on the website, asking FANS who they thought the real father was. There was a 24 hour pole asking FANS how many people they thought I had FUCKED in the company. He crucified me live in the court of public opinion. “Fans” would wait in the parking lot after the shows and throw dirty, filthy panties and thongs at me. They would offer me money to service them. He was the one who made me the whore to the masses. The originator. He billed me as a cumguzzling, dick thirsty slutmonger. He was never going to accept you. Out of spite. It was NEVER you. It was me, always me. He could never embrace you as his own because I made him look like a fool and as such you had to be punished because of his pride. He only signed your birthcertificate AFTER an independent lawyer and research team confirmed for him that the results were irrefutable. He WAS the father. That was the turning point for my career but also put his stake in the company at risk. My Father threatened to buy out his shares if he did not do the right thing. He only signed it because he had too. Not doing so would have meant financial ruin and more bad PR he couldn’t handle. There was legitimate outrage against him once the truth came out. The man tried to shove the responsibility off on his own cousin. He had no shame.
Annika YOU did nothing wrong. The only reason you even stayed with him sometimes was because we tried to do the co-parenting thing. Not to mention Jose and Joe basically sat him down and told him that his mom would be ashamed of the way he was acting. Once he slowed down, or more so he was forced to retire after that whole stabbing incident, he decided to play dad but you would always play second fiddle to Jake. I mean the fact alone that Jake’s mom blew the fuck out of town leaving both the kid AND him says a lot. Jake was a spoiled little cry baby bitch that his dad put on a pedestal and expected a pile of shit like that to turn into a fucking gold brick. What’s the phrase...ah yes, he didn’t know shit from shineola. Now I want you to be honest with me Annika. This meeting was not spare of the moment. The day you chose was deliberate and the place was important. There is something deep down feeding this and I feel like there was more to this than just a Sylvia Plath “fuck you daddy” situation. So, is there something more you are trying to tell me? Did he hurt you?
++The worst question any mother ever wants to ask their child, even if that child is 18. This is the world we live in. It is an everyday occurrence. Child abuse of every type happens every hour on the hour. Every ten seconds in the US a child abuse report is made. It is a very real situation. For the most part Annika was well adjusted, but even the most strong and adjusted victims of abuse has a breaking point. I just needed to know if I fucked up more. I needed to know if I made more of the same mistakes. She was visibly uncomfortable and my stomach started to sink. She looked away, running her fingers through her hair, rubbing the shaved sides of her head. Refusing to make eye contact. I wasn’t going to force her. I was just about to change the subject when she turned to me, tears in her eyes, wringing her pale hands and blurted out++
Annika: Uncle Joe...he…..
++I held up my hand and stopped her right there. She didn’t need to say anything more. As a mother you just know. I could see the shame in her eyes. I knew Joe. I knew him too well. Big bad macho man. The quintessential self proclaimed ladies man. It was no surprise that his daughter Sarah got as far away from him as she could. Last I heard she had finally moved to Canada to be with Jason. There was a silence between us. Not awkward or deafening, just a silence between two women who understood. I got to my knees and used his obelisk to pull myself up. Poor Yancy took the cue to gather his things and get his own self up. I knew all I needed to know. There was nothing more than could be achieved here. I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around my daughter and held her tightly, rubbing the side of her head++
Elizabeth: You owe him nothing. You have no need to ever come here again. He never earned the right to have you keep his memory alive or to even acknowledge he ever existed. Some men are better off dead and forgotten and I feel that, for both of us, it’s best to just let him fucking rot. We’ve both wasted too much time on him. I want you to go home, back to Fa Ying, and I want to see the two of you build a beautiful life together. Free from the weight of unhappiness that your father put on you. And while you are back home with Fa, I want you to consider the idea of starting your career here in the states. Not in my shadow, not expected to live up to MY legacy but to build your own. Can you do this for me?
Annika: I can. You have no idea how happy it makes me to know you care for Fa Ying as much as I do and that you are so supportive. Coming out was so hard, yet you didn’t bat an eyelash mom. You were just so cool about it. It made things so much easier. When I said I wanted to follow in your footsteps, you didn’t helicopter over me. You were proud and thrilled and told me to “find my niche”. I’m still working on that. The South Korean and Thai death matches kind of help me gauge who I am. There’s just one thing mom, you need to stop beating yourself up over what happened with my sister. You did the best you could. You were sick. Mental illness is no joke and you were fighting battles in your own head. It sounds like Fionn understood. She was too good for this world, too wise beyond her years. You were there when it mattered most. Remember that.
++We split the embrace and the mood was very different. Once where there was awkward anticipation and anger, was replaced by a certain sense of serenity and closure and that was what she deserved to have. She was too young and had too much ahead of her in life to...end up like me. That was truly the most important thing to me, that she lived a happy, healthy, stable life. She walked away down the pathways. I urged Yancy to get himself up, hand me one more drink and then make the trip back to the SUV. After slipping my shoes back on, carefully treading the gravel pathway the SUV pulled up.Yancy did his thing, back to the position of being disciplined. I slid back into the backseat as the door closed behind me. Joe. I’ll keep what I now know in my back pocket. It will be dealt with in due time. As we began pulling away, once again to the air strip, I synched my iPhone up to the smart screen on the back of the driver side seat, initiating a Facetime call as the screen loaded up my Father answered++
Elizabeth: Bonjour papa. I’m not calling at a bad time am I?
Alphonse: No, no. I’m just in the smoking room, watching a rainstorm. You don’t seem happy my child, is something amiss?
Elizabeth: I met with Annika, at George’s grave. She wanted to get her hurt and disdain for him out of her system, just as we expected but...she confirmed something for me that I have long suspected.
Alphonse: This sounds quite serious. You have my full attention, go on please.
Elizabeth: Joe violated her. No doubt George knew it was going on but turned a blind eye. It makes total sense why she started having so many behavior problems and started struggling. I recognize it because it happened to me. I always suspected it, feared it but I couldn’t force her to open up about it and accusing him without proof would have been a waste of time. He’ll have to be dealt with but I have an idea on how to do it. Jayson failed his task. That pathetic bitch and her kids are still alive. The biggest loose end and he just laid his goddamn gun down and walked away all because of nostalgia about his time with Ophelia. How hypocritical. He posed zero resistance when I asked him to prove his loyalty to The Cure by ending her career, a vertebrae lower and she would have been paralyzed. He brutalized her without even thinking about the consequences of her kid. His attack was precise and ruthless. NOW he decides to get a conscious? Who is Scotty’s wife and kids to him? He isn’t close to them, he doesn’t know them personally, she is just a sorry grieving wife who needs to be removed from the equation. I can’t have her living and breathing when the grief wears off and she starts getting suspicious that maybe Scotty’s death wasn’t as above board as she thought it was. As it stands, she blames me as I was the one who put him in that god damn coma. He’s going to come crawling back. It is in his nature. I think when I meet with Koresh we will talk strategy. Caleb, as it stands right now, is my enforcer. We’ll sort it.
Alphonse: He was always a vile man, Joe. His antics got to the point where the company had a “Joe Fund” to cover his assault allegations, amongst other things. I just never thought he would be a predator like that. He has many unflattering qualities but assaulting young girls? It truly never crossed my mind. Hearing this now I am appalled. It makes me physically ill…
Elizabeth: Yet you and George both bailed him out with accusations of assault and stalking, thus reinforcing the idea that what he was doing was fine, you’ll just cut a check. He figured he was untouchable and above approach and everytime you two covered up for him, he just became bolder. Him being a top star was more important to you at the time than holding him accountable, and now here we are facing the realization that he assaulted my daughter, your grandchild. You know I won’t mince words when it comes to situations like this. It is no different than when you covered for Thomas, after he raped me. He was the son you wish you had. You put him on a pedestal and he could do no wrong. How does the view in hindsight look for you, from your position Father?
Alphonse: I’m not the type of man ever willingly admit when I have to eat crow but nothing you have said is a lie. In hindsight I did excuse his behavior all for the sake of money and power. I know I don’t need to dare try and excuse my actions by saying that it was a different time and use the trope of it being a male dominated business because I’m talking to you who experienced first hand the travesty of injustice that men like me delved out. I victimized you too. It makes me no better than them or any different. It is all truth you speak. I guess in my old age I wanted to pretend I didn’t make those decisions or was unwilling to acknowledge that I perpetrated a toxic environment but one cannot escape their sins. I know I can’t take it back or change it. What is it then you would ask of me to make amends?
Elizabeth: Be better. Become aware. We are not the weaker sex. We carry burdens, baggae and fears that would bring even the strongest men to their knees and yet we continue to trudge through, because we have too. Because taking a knee mid-march is a weakness and not acceptable. Constantly scrutinized and our male colleagues always looking for a crack or flaw to use to their advantage and cut us down. I’m not angry dad I just wanted you to hear first hand how the foolish decision to not hold Joe accountable, has now personally affected you. I will make sure Ani gets in with a good therapist and begins tackling this privately, for her well being. I don’t want her to turn out like I did. I also don’t want her to have to endure what I did. We’re almost to the airport and then I have to take a charter to Washington DC for the last OPW show. Give Keiko my best and papa? Happy Fathers Day. I love you.
++We ended the call just as the Escalade pulled into the private area. I had to repress the bitterness that was lumping in my throat. I couldn’t let it consume me. Things happened. Mistakes were made. Dwelling on it would only further hinder me. I imagined by now he was breaking open the vintage scotch and slumping into his smoking chair, feeling like filth. That would suffice++
Washington D.C - Ritz Carlton Georgetown - Private Suite
++I hated D.C. The traffic, the politicians, the proud capital of AMERICAN CONSUMERISM AND CAPITALIST RELIGION. Ahem. Still it was nice they had a Ritz in the area. I didn’t bust my ass on the road for as long as I have to stay in a fucking Budget Inn or share a room with three other people because we couldn’t afford more than one room. While those days made me who I was, they were long over and I had earned some luxury. It’s hard to become mentally prepared for a match when you’re in some ratty roadside motel and there’s prostitutes servicing their Johns in the rooms on either side of you. How can you mentally prepare when all you are hearing is fake orgasms, two minute fuck fests and then the girls laughing their tits off about how small the last client’s dick was. Speaking of small dicks, PMont. Here we go again. One more round under the OPW banner. Dollface and I had done our best to secure whatever information we could out of that whole array of scum. Dollface. There were a lot of unanswered questions about her, but she was a like minded ally and I could not turn her down. In private we had many talks about the direction we are going vs. the direction we should be going. It was clear to me that she knew more than she let on. She was intentionally vague and I respected that. While her presence left certain members of the group questioning if they were next because all targets were male, or becoming distrustful, those were growing pains. One alpha female was enough to deal with, two? Downright intimidating. I decided that if I were going to address PMont and this fresh fish one last time in the name of OPW I would make it their god damn wile. Give them the version of me they think I am. I had already showered and was standing in front of a full length mirror, contemplating. A lightbulb went off in my head as I opened my vintage louis vuitton steamer trunk, shifted through the menagerie of products, clothes and personal belongings and finally a beam came upon my face as I found what I was looking for. I delicately slipped into the black corset slip dress, the garter clips hanging freely. I sat on the edge of the california king sized bed and slid the thigh high cuban heel silk stockings, attaching them to the clips. I dusted myself with honey scented body powder and returned to the mirror, expertly applying my lippy. Hair up or down? Up. A quick hair clip and some volumizing spray and I was ready. I fell back into the tufted softness of the bed, propped myself up on the stately collection of throw pillows and regular, firm sleeping pillows, sprayed myself with some mist and pulled up instagram. The days of camera crews and staging promos was dead. We lived in the new age. The whole world was a stage to be used. Social media was just the tool to use. And we went live++
Apathy: Is this to your liking? Do I look like the slut and whore you constantly declare me to be? Do I look cheap enough? I wanted to make the extra effort to make myself look just as you see me. Both of you. PMont, I’ll get to you but first I want to take the time to address Austin. Austin, darling, what was that you threw at me? I was a slut from the 90’s? That I’m used to being on my back so this match should be familiar territory for me? Let’s have a Kiki shall we doll?
First of all, let me correctly introduce myself to you. I’m Apathy, or as those who are close to me call me, Liz. Let’s move on shall we? You are Austin Ramsey, and you are only here because you rode in, quite literally, on your boyfriend's dick. No shame in that it just means you are a nobody. Not to me. Not to our illustrious champion PMont, not to anyone, except your boo. Your career is non-existant outside of OPW and to be quite frank honey, that leads me to ask just who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think because your boyfriend is managing you that it somehow makes you elite? Truth be told I don’t even know how you came to BE in this match because from where I am sitting I have seen you do fuck alll to earn it, but who am I to question the astute leadership of the rats in the back, twittering amongst themselves privately and preparing to jump the sinking ship? Far be it from me to try and figure out what half assed attempt they are trying for. Unless it involves them or someone they like there is no consistency. I know you got a big stiffy from the idea that you’re in a championship match but let me be the first to tell you darling, you’re a gold fish in a sea of fucking piranahs.
You caught the hot shit fever seeing you were in this match. Let me come at you straight, Ive been doing this gig longer then you. You are a nobody riding your power tops coat tails and you have no standing. I held the top belt in this company. While PMont likes to talk about how many times he’s beat me, how many times we’ve faced, all his success and accolades, you don’t get that benefit because you ain’t done shit. You’re a cocky little cunt that thinks he’s the next best thing and that people like me and PMont should gall to our knees and bask in your self-imposed glory. I don’t have to look you up. I can read you like a book. You’re so elementary that a first grader could read you. Become something in this company besides whatever it is you are now, and then you can step to me. I may be a slut from the 90’s but I have achieved more in this business than you have. Now sit down, shut the fuck up and sip on that humble tea, bitch.
++What an ass. And part of the problem. Just one more name to throw on the list of people who are the future of ruining this business. Then there was PMont. The novelty had worn off. It was just exasperating at this point to even see his name on the program next to mine. Migraine inducing. Not for the reasons you might think though. There WAS still some other unfinished business. Devin Stone. I felt a reason was required to explain why I did him dirty. I shifted on the bed, sat up straight and made absolutely sure my milky supple orbs were accented++
Apathy: Devin. You mad bro? How did you think things were going to go Devin? You walk into this company, full of your own brand of shit and proclaim yourself to be some god damn legend? Strut around like as if the past few years you weren’t persona non grata? Nobody even fucking remembered you existed man. You are great and an invaluable asset ONLY in your own god damn head. You were the perfect example. You want to know how we did it? How we got one up on the great and legendary DEVIN FUCKING STONE? It was easy. You hype yourself up so much that you are ignorant of your surroundings. You truly believe NOBODY has the balls to step to you. The thing is, when you are too busy strutting forward like a fucking rickety ass peacock, you never see the predator behind you. Caleb slipped you the chloroform. He drug you into an unused room, Eoin painted your face with great precision. He did a great job I must say. Then they paraded you down to that ring like a goddamn puppet. You were a fucking blow hard tool and were treated as such. You’re mad now? We ALL heard your little hissy backstage. I was worried you were going to give yourself a fucking stroke. It was embarrassing, laughable and even after you walked away they asked themselves who you were. They didn’t know man. Read the fucking room. Maybe that’s why I ended up in this match. A reward for the top tier entertainment provided by turning you into a fucking sad sorry clown.
I guess I can’t blow it off anymore. PMont. Let’s just get it over with. I know what you think of me and how you see me. I know how important it is to you that you have faced me and beaten me so many times. You have gone on and on about it so many fucking times. Maybe you and Devin need to strike up a conversation because while Austin over there is thinking about a future that ain’t going to happen, you and Devin are both stuck in the fucking past. What is it that you want PMont? Do you want me to personally shake your hand and say “good job, you beat me again”? Do you want the fact that you HAVE beaten me so many times, to affect me in a certain way? Is it because I’m not upset about it? Is it because it matters more to you than me? The truth is PMont, all the material you have when it comes to me is undercutting whatever I have achieved in this company, shitting on The Cure, talking about me as if I am just some whore and bragging again, for the unteenth time that you have beaten me before.
I don’t hate you, mind you, I just hate records stuck on repeat and when it comes to me that is exactly what you are. I get it Monty, you think you are god incarnate. That you are untouchable, so far superior to those around you because of who you associate with, the titles you have held, the power you wield. To me? I see a man. I see a man who is no different than just about any other man I have ever met. Egotistical, prideful, shameless. I’m not slighting you, as you would say as you insinuate I’m a whore, I’m speaking honestly. Do I look the part for you PMont? Would it work better for you if I were on my knees, my lipstick smudged and my hair a mess? I want to ensure as you see this you can connect to it and it resonates for you. Let me bring myself down to your level Paul. After all, who am I? I’m just a woman. An object of lust. My sexual freedom is clearly a sign of my weakness. How could I ever hope to understand how men use sexual advances as power moves? I’m a dumb slut. I just spread my legs and let guys run me down like an interstate route, right?
You are SO far superior to the likes of me. I’m nothing to you. I am little more than SCUM. How foolish of me to continue to push forward, take the losses, turn the set backs into my own favor and keep up the fight. How fucking DARE I. I just can’t seem to remember my place in OPW Paul. No matter how hard you try to remind me but god damnit I’m a woman with an attention span of a gnat and I just don’t get it. I’m fucking stupid! I’m sorry! I’m sorry that you don’t see the bigger picture. That you fail to see the storm growing right in front of your eyes because you can’t see past yourself. You know what kills the momentum of a match? Guys like you. Guys who have to shill their own self-praise as gospel. It sucks the air out of the match. If I told you what you want to hear, that Jesus Christ wishes he could be you, would you finally shut the fuck up? Is that all it is? You just want a pat on the back a good tug and suck and a hearty “Good job, kiddo” every week? Because that’s what it looks like on this side. You know what that is a sign of? A fragile existence. You need the applause and the ass kissing to feel whole. You have a weak personality type. Overcompensating for a fragile ego and the fact that mommy was a drinker and handed you a fork to put in a light socket, hoping you would follow through.
This match isn’t about your strap. It is about you being the monster that needs to be fed. It is about your bilge rat prick pals in the back, trying to make your last defense easy for you. Because Austin is a fucking wet beind the ears nobody and NOT ONE of you believe I am capable of actually winning and holding a title. That might bother someone else but me? I take your dismissiveness as a complement. I take your shitting on me as a badge of honor. You Paul can’t keep my name out of your fucking mother, you never could and you know what? I’m okay with that. You can say whatever you want about me sweetheart because win or lose I get paid either way.
It comes down to perspective Paul. You see yourself as a God amongst men. Me? That doesn’’t matter. I know you sleep better at night thinking I believe I am a filthy, cum sucking whore. In the spirit of OPW taking a shit, I’ll end this by letting you continue to think I’m garbage.