Post by Blair Buchannan-Stylez on Apr 13, 2020 23:34:55 GMT -5
"I'm gonna avoid the cliche."
-Madonna
Blair Buchannan-Stylez
In
A Picture's Worth
Four Seasons Hotel
Washington D.CIt had been days since the last Showcase, and in those few days Blair had been on a rollercoaster of emotions. Losing the Southern Championship to Al Envy was a huge blow to her ego. She didn’t like to lose, and she didn’t like to be made a fool of. Blair didn’t handle disappointments very well. Such is the case that she spent the majority of the week the only way she knew how. Shopping and drinking.
Currently, she was in the process of curing one of the worst hangovers in recent years the only way she knew hair--with more alcohol. Planted in front of the large vanity mirror inside of their huge suite, Blair sipped on a mimosa as she appraised herself in the mirror. All things considered, she didn’t take a terrible beating. Certainly not one that would warrant an emergency trip to her plastic surgeon. A couple of minor bruises here and there, but it was nothing a little concealer couldn’t fix.
...and so there she was, putting herself back together again. She sat there on the quilted bench in front of the vanity, dressed in a cream floor length silk robe that hung off of her shoulders, using the extensive array of cosmetics in front of her to paint on the face she had come to perfect over years and years of putting it on. Blair was in the middle of applying mascara to her long, curled eyelashes when her husband LA Johnny Stylez made his way back into their room from the balcony outside. He had just wrapped up a phone call and was on his way out, but went to say goodbye to Blair before he left. Coming up behind Blair, Johnny wrapped his arms around her and went to plant a kiss on her lips before Blair slightly moved her head so that he missed and got her cheek instead. Confused, Johnny stood up straight and sighed as Blair continued on with applying her makeup.
LA Johnny Stylez: "Please tell me you're JoKin....? Blair neither of us have time for this...So instead of doing the whole thing where I ask you what's wrong and we get to the bottom of it 3-5 hours and two bottles of Grey Goose later and we just skip to the part where you tell me what the phuck is wrong today? What, do you only have three credit cards again?"
Blair Buchannan-Stylez:“why don’t you go ask your little friend Madisin Ivy?” Blair doesn’t make eye contact with Johnny, and instead applies mascara nonchalantly while looking in the mirror.
LA Johnny Stylez: "Madison Ivy? Blair you can't be serious? Blair Babe she fucks doods on camera for money! Do you really think I would trade you in for a FUCK SOCK? Blair a little more credit please...Or maybe the benefit of the doubt...I ain't sittin up here grilling you about Prince Whatever His name is Q-Tip is it?"
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “fuck if I know....but I’m busy right now, as you can see, so i’ll talk to you later...”
LA Johnny Stylez: “HA! Alright your highness enjoy your phuckin temper tantrum! Don't you dare call me when you're drunk in an hour!”
With that, Johnny threw his hands up and made his exit from the hotel suite brushing by Zuma, Blair’s younger brother, who was on his way in.
Zuma Rockwell: “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping but, did I hear something about you being pissed off at Johnny because of that Madisin Ivy chick?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “For somebody who ‘swears they weren’t eavesdropping’ you sure heard a lot of my conversation.”
Zuma Rockwell: “I’m a journalist. It’s my job to get the deets. But seriously...Madisin Ivy? You can’t seriously be threatened by someone like her. She oozes low self-esteem.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “hahahahahaNO….it has nothing to do with being threatened. Johnny is around porn stars and even regular women all day who throw themselves at him. I’m just annoyed that he would put himself in a position..on camera..to where it would even look like something possibly shady could go down with that woman. It makes ME look like a fool..”
Zuma Rockwell: “Who cares?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I do! If a picture is worth a thousand words...than imagine what the image of my husband standing in front of a woman who practically had her pussy on the floor is worth. By the way, make a note to make sure that the rented sofa she uses for her tacky ass setup is properly steam cleaned. I don’t want OPW getting billed for whatever stains she’s left on it. It’s bad enough there’s a coronavirus outbreak...we don’t need our talent contracting the mutant strain of herpes that’s undoubtedly incubating inside of her as we speak.”
Blair glides a wand of sheer pink gloss across her lips before pressing them together and blowing a kiss into the mirror.
Zuma Rockwell: “Are you sure this isn’t just displaced anger because you’re mad about losing the Southern Championship to Al Envy last week?”
The mere mention of Envy’s name jars Blair to the point where she drops her tube of lipgloss. She glares at Zuma through the reflection of the mirror, clenching her jaw. Zuma holds his hands up defensively.
Zuma Rockwell: “I’m just saying it would be totally understandable if that were the case. You’re human, after all! Losing your title is a big deal.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I don’t know what’s worse...you having the audacity to bring up that man’s name, or the fact that you compared me to an average, every day human. Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of being normal, or having regular emotions. Don’t you think I would love to do the bare minimum like you...walking around in hoodies and sweatpants without a purpose in life?!”
Zuma Rockwell: “the fuck?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I’m an icon, honey. I have to be perfect all the time, every time! If I so much as show a flaw, the many MANY haters I have in this business would smell weakness like a shark smells blood in the water and would attack. So now...losing my title to Al Envy isn’t a ‘big deal.’ ...Hurricane Katrina was a ‘big deal.’ Cardi B winning a Grammy is a ‘Big Deal.’....The California Wildfires were a ‘Big Deal.’.....losing my Southern Heavyweight Championship to Alan Envy was a TRAVESTY...a mistake of colossal proportions, that I intend to correct at Injustice.”
Zuma Rockwell: “...I feel like you’re about to start one of your rants so i’m just gonna go order room ser-...”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “ALAN ENVY IS A FUCKING HACK!!!!”
Zuma Rockwell: “Here we go…”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I meant it when I said last week that he was a relic, and I stand by it. In fact, i’m doubling down on it! The fact that Alan Envy is walking around with MY custom made GUCCI CHAMPIONSHIP BELT is not only a crime against fashion, but a crime against humanity as we know it! His very existence in OPW could cause everything we’ve worked so hard for to crumble..and nobody seems to notice it but me! I mean, when people think of the top competitors in OPW they think of ME, Anicka Swan, Roger Wright, Johnny Stylez, Tyler Knowles, shit…”
HUNTER FUCKING VALENTYNE
Is more relevant in OPW than Alan Envy
...and he hasn’t been here for like a fucking month!...
Is more relevant in OPW than Alan Envy
...and he hasn’t been here for like a fucking month!...
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “When I saw the piece of shit traitors on our roster that were raising up Alan at the end of our match like he was some sort of hero...I wanted to vomit! It was disgusting! Alan Envy is not worthy of being celebrated. I said it last week, and I’ll say it again! He’s a fraud who wants everybody to feel sorry for him, so they’ll root for him. They should be rooting for me! I was NOMINATED FOR A PRIME-TIME EMMY AWARD for goodness sake!”
Zuma Rockwell: “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “EVERYTHING! People know i’m a horrible person and yet, they still regard me as one of the best who’s ever done it. Alan Envy is nothing but a washed up has been who has no right to still be in this business, let alone this company. His time is O-V-E-R! It’s time for him to make way for other people to have their shot. For others to have their time to shine!”
Zuma Rockwell: “Other people like Parody?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “WHO?! No, you moron! ME!”
Zuma Rockwell: “But haven’t you been in this business for like...ten years!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What’s your point? I’m still only...twenty something…”
Zuma Rockwell: “No you’re not.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Excuse me?”
Zuma Rockwell: “You’re not in your twenties...i’ve seen your Driver’s License..”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “IRREGARDLESS!!!! Having someone like Al Envy holding one of the top titles...MY title..is just ….it’s just bad for business. He doesn’t deserve it!”
Zuma Rockwell: “Okay but...you need to calm down...he kinda does deserve it. He beat you fair and square...actually, even after Johnny tried to cheat on your behalf..”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Do you want me to kill you?...I’ve done it before, i’ll do it again.”
Zuma Rockwell: “Yeah right, who could you have possibly killed?”
Blair, suddenly aware of who she was talking to, shuts the fuck up and takes a sip of her champagne.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Nobody...i’m just drunk, don’t listen to me.”
Bzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzz
The sound of one of Blair’s many cell phones vibrating against the surface of her vanity couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Be a doll and tell me who that is.”
She says, gesturing toward the phone that is literally inches from her, while she dusts a little gold shimmer across her collarbone with a makeup brush. Zuma rolls his eyes and walks over to the vanity, grabbing the phone to take a look at the name on the display.
Zuma Rockwell: “It’s a text...scratch that...its like twenty texts from Johnny.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Hmph...what’s it say?”
Zuma Rockwell: “Mannnn I ain’t readin all this shit!” He groans, tossing the phone back onto the vanity.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “It doesn’t matter. I’m NOT talking to him. Not only did he embarrass me on television by cavorting with that human Bratz doll, but he couldn’t even manage to secure a simple win for me! He KNOWS how much I loved that belt...it was custom made by GUCCI! GUCCI I tell you! ….and now it’s in the hands of a man who probably thinks Eddie Bauer is couture. I tell you, the sooner I can get in the ring at InJustice and take my baby home where she belongs, the better...and I swear to God if there is ONE DRIP OF ARBY’S SAUCE on my fucking BELT when I get it back, there will be Hell to pay. I mean it! I hope I don’t even see the belt before our match starts because if I spot one grease stain and i’m going to completely lose my shit and slap the Just For Men drug store hair dye he uses to cover up the greys out of his fucking beard!”
Bzzzz Bzzzzz Bzzzzzzzzz
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Is that Johnny again?”
Zuma Rockwell: “Do I look like Miss Cleo? Answer your own fucking phone!”
Blair shot Zuma another look, which he shot right back to her. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, before grabbing her phone and answering without checking to see who was calling first.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What do you want?”
Sam Laramie Jr: “........bad time?”
Hearing that the voice on the other phone was not, in fact, her husband’s, Blair flips the phone in front of her face to get a view at the caller ID. Tossing her head back dramatically, she groans before tapping the little ‘speaker’ icon so that she could speak while applying her makeup.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Junior….how can I help you?”
Sam Laramie Jr: “Listen, Blair...we got off on the wrong foot. I was hoping maybe we could start over.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “POOF! We’ve started over. Is that all?”
Sam Laramie Jr: “No...that’s not all...I’m in D.C...I was thinking we could have dinner and discuss business in person. How does an hour sound?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Listen, I’m super busy right now and…”
Sam Laramie Jr: “I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise. I just really want the chance to make things right...I don’t wanna have to worry about you and your little friend covering me in any more condiments every time I come to the show.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Orrrr you could just stop coming to the shows.”
Sam Laramie Jr: “Alright, smarty pants…” He says with a laugh.
Blair looks at Zuma, with her eyes wide. Zuma has a frown on his face and mouths the words ‘smarty pants???’ Blair just shrugs and and shakes her head ‘no.’
Sam Laramie Jr: “Blair...you there?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I’m here.”
Sam Laramie Jr: “So i’m gonna text you an address...meet me there in about an hour.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Alright, junior. As you wish.” She says, sarcastically, while putting in a pair of platinum and diamond gold hook earrings.
Sam Laramie Jr: “...and Blair?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Yes Junior?”
Sam Laramie Jr: “Don’t be late.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “........ew.”
Click!
About two hours later
A black SUV pulls up to the address provided by Sam Laramie Jr. It’s a dock near the marina in D.C...boats and luxury yachts were anchored near the boardwalk but there wasn’t much else around aside from Sam Jr himself who was dressed to the nines in a crisp 3 piece suit. He approached the back of the vehicle and opened the door for Blair, like a gentleman.
Blair stepped out onto the pavement, her body looking like it was poured into a little black body-con dress with diamond straps that were meant to hold the dress up, but ultimately fell off of both shoulders. Large platinum diamond embellished hoop earrings dangled from her lobes. The dress was low cut to reveal a tasteful amount of cleavage, while the hem of the dress ended dangerously high on her waist to reveal those signature long legs of her punctuated by a pair of black strappy stilettos with crystals going across the toe and ankle straps.
Sam Jr: “Thank you for agreeing to meet me. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “There’s this new technology called GPS, you know. Makes finding the directions to almost anything easy as one two three!...even abandoned shipyards like this...which reminds me...why exactly did you ask me to come here? I don’t see any restaurants. Are you planning on murdering me because of the little prank Apathy and I pulled on you at the Showcase last week?”
Sam Jr: “No, no, that’s not my style” He says, laughing. “...although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little sore over you ladies ruining one of my favorite suits.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Be sure to send me the dry cleaning bill, would you?”
Sam Jr: “You can count on it. But back to your question. Yes, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. There is no five star restaurant nearby.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Aight, i’m out…” She says before turning to walk away.
Sam Jr: “Wait!” He calls out, laughing again. “You didn’t let me finish. We’re still having dinner...Just, not where you think.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What? You want to have some kind of picnic or something? Honey, I don’t know what you’ve heard...but i’m not that kind of girl.”
Sam Jr: “Well...not a picnic exactly..”
With that, Sam Laramie Jr motions toward the marina where a very large luxury yacht was anchored near the docks. It was impressive, even by Blair’s standards. For a moment, her facade gave way to the beauty of it. Being that she had taken a step back from the rather glamorous lifestyle that being a part of the fashion industry had afforded her in place of focusing most of her attention on the wrestling world, the part of Blair that craved opulence was instinctively drawn to the idea of being waited on by people who were paid to do so.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “....That’s yours? It’s so….big….I don’t think i’ve ever seen one that big before!”
Sam Jr: “I’ll be a gentleman and not go for the obvious joke there, even though you’ve set yourself up for it. Now, as I was saying...it may not be a five star restaurant but i’ve got one of the best chefs in the country preparing a meal for us that will rival any establishment with Michelin Star Status. But, if you’re not interested…”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Well….it would be a shame for something so beautiful to go to waste.”
Sam Jr: “My thoughts exactly.”
As Sam said this, his eyes were focused on Blair who had began walking down toward the marina. It was obvious he wasn’t talking about the yacht, but Blair pretended to ignore his comment and before long the two of them made their way to the bottom of the ramp leading up to the vessel.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “So...why exactly do you have a yacht in D.C?”
Sam Jr: “Well, like yourself, I have many different business ventures. One of those ventures demands that I spend some time in our Nation’s capital...so I figured I might as well enjoy myself while i’m here. Plus, I just love bein’ on the water. Have since I was a kid.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Do any of your ‘business ventures’ involve paying dirty politicians to be in your pocket or something?”
Sam Jr: “...Let’s just say the secret ingredient that makes Big Daddy’s Chicken taste so good needed a little push to get through the FDA.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I don’t know whether to be horrified, or impressed.”
Sam Jr: “Shall we?”
He says, motioning up toward the yacht. Blair carefully plants one of her stilettos on it’s surface before making her ascent up the ramp and onto the ship, with Sam Jr in tow. A little while later, Blair and Sam are seated in the above deck dining area near the front of the yacht, which was gently coasting on the water outside of the D.C marina. Sam was enjoying his perfectly cut steak, while Blair mostly just pushed her food around with a fork. Sam took note of this and raised a brow before speaking.
Sam Jr: “Something wrong with your food?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Not at all, it’s delicious.”
Sam Jr: “How on earth could you possibly know that? You haven’t taken one bite.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Watching people eat is creepy, Junior.”
Sam Jr: “...Fair enough. Well, i’ll just have to find comfort in knowing you at least like the champagne I ordered.” He said, motioning to the crystal champagne flute that Blair was sipping out of. She was well into her fourth glass by now.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Listen…” She said after taking another sip of champagne, before setting the glass back on the table. “I don’t mean to be rude…”
Sam Jr: “Yes you do.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Touche....Anyway, why don’t we just skip to the part where we discuss whatever it is you summoned me here to discuss?”
Sam Jr: “To the point...I can respect that. Alright, then. Blair..what are you doing with Big Daddy’s Chicken?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I’m-...”
Sam Jr: “Wait, let me finish. Be honest. Do you really want anything to do with a chicken company? What are you even doing in the wrestlin’ business? I have to admit, I do find it fascinating that you managed to make such a name for yourself in the industry, but why? You don’t peg me as somebody who loves wrestling...yet here you are...even going as far to be the former and possibly future Southern Champion. Now, don’t take this the wrong way..but it seems to me that you don’t think very highly of people from the South, regardless of you being one of those people. I highly doubt you have any interest in fried chicken...hell...at this point, i’m not even convinced that you actually eat! So i’ll ask you again...what are you doing with Big Daddy’s Chicken?”
Silence permeated the air around them as Blair took in Sam’s words. She was calm, eerily so, and still. For a moment, Sam wasn’t totally sure that Blair had heard the question. It wasn’t until he was about to speak up to repeat it that he was swiftly cut off by Blair who, after taking a long sip of her champagne, finally began to speak.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Do you know why I got into wrestling?”
Sam Jr: “I’m aware of your biography, yes. You were a model turned actress who decided to get into the business after seeing the success your now husband was having in it.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “No...that’s how I entered into wrestling. I asked if you knew why I entered into wrestling.”
Sam Jr: “Is there a difference?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Yes. It’s for the same reason that I have done everything else in my life. When I was growing up, I never fit in anywhere. I’m the mixed race daughter of a woman who was known as the town tramp who came from nothing. I was constantly reminded that I would never be good enough, black enough, white enough, to fit in anywhere. Even the outcasts like the goth kids had a clique they could identify with. I learned very early on that I would never belong with anyone...so I became determined to outshine everyone. It’s what led me to beauty pageants...and then modeling...and then eventually acting until something very...unfortunate happened.”
Sam Jr: “What, you didn’t get any auditions?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh, I got auditions. I had plenty. Even booked a few jobs. To this day, they still run my toothpaste commercials in Japan. One particularly dark evening I had a late night ‘audition’ with a high level movie studio executive. Being the stupid, naive girl I was back then...I actually thought the guy wanted me to read a script. It wasn’t until he exposed himself to me that I figured out what was really happening.”
Sam Jr: “...oh….wait….you’re not talking about.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “It’s not even worth bringing up his name. He’s getting his comeuppance. Either way, he didn’t do anything to me. I high tailed it out of there so fast, I think his dick was still in his hand when the door to his hotel room shut behind me. But that didn’t stop him from tanking any prospects I had in the pipeline and, just like that, my short lived little acting career was over before it could even begin.”
Sam Jr: “So you turned to wrestling?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “The world of wrestling was a source of entertainment that was far enough out of that Weinstein guy’s reach...Oops, I promise I wouldn’t say his name...anyway....It was a sanctuary for me. It became a place where, if I worked hard enough and learned fast enough, I could make just as big a name for myself if not bigger than the one I would have made as just a plain old model turned actress.”
Sam Jr: “...and you did...but that still doesn’t answer my question about why you want anything to do with owning my father’s company.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Then you aren’t listening. My entire life, I have thrived off of doing things that others said I can’t. Proving people wrong is more than just a thrill for me...it’s an addiction. They said I’d never work in Hollywood, and that i’d never become a star...cool, i’ll become a fucking celebrity on my own terms. People didn’t believe that I could make it as a serious wrestler? Okay, perfect, not only will I become one of the best they’ve ever seen but i’ll snatch every single one of their championships in the process. In high heels, no less! Just like in OPW...some people didn’t believe I was Southern enough for the Southern Division? I became the Southern Champion, and I plan on doing it again...you don’t think I have what i’m the right choice to be the face of Big Daddy’s Chicken? Okay then, i’ll just have to take over the company and run it myself. Get the picture, junior?”
Sam Jr: “Alright...I see your point. Listen...I think we got off on the wrong foot, and perhaps i’m guilty of judging you before I got to know you. You clearly have a sense of how to navigate your way in business. Your career shows that.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I know, right?”
Sam Jr: “...all I’m saying is, there has to be a way for us to be able to work together. Big Daddy’s Chicken is my family business. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t just some pet project for you, which I can see now is far from the case.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “..and i’m more than happy to work with you...as long as you understand that within that process, i’m ultimately the boss and so you’re going to have to realize that sooner or later. Or...we can continue playing tug o’ war until you eventually give up, because I promise you, I won’t. It’s not in my nature.”
Sam takes in a deep breath before wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin in his lap and then placing it on the plate in front of him.
Sam Jr: “Alright, I can see that, for now, we’re going to have to agree to disagree. What do you say we table this conversation for another time and have a little fun?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What did you have in mind?”
With that, Sam backs up in his chair a bit before standing up. He walks over to Blair’s side of the table and extends his hand.
Sam Jr: “May I have this dance?” He says, motioning to a nearby speaker which is playing some upbeat rock music. “You do dance, don’t you?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What do I look like, a robot?”
Sam Jr: “Well...you don’t eat so..I don’t know..”
Rolling her eyes, Blair slowly rises to a stance and smooths the wrinkles out of her dress. She uses her hands to ‘shoo’ Sam Jr back a few steps to give her some room, and he obliges.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Watch and learn, sweetie!”
With that, Blair begins to confidently strut from their table toward the end of the yacht that overlooked the harbor. One long, tanned leg after the other in perfect timing with the music brought her to the ships end where she struck a couple of poses, the calling card of her modeling days, before turning around on her toes and continuing to strut back over to Sam Jr who had a wide grin on his face. Once Blair made her way back over to him, Sam Jr couldn’t help but burst out into a fit of raucous laughter, his voice bouncing off of the sleek wood lined panels of the yacht’s interior. Blair stood there for a moment, genuinely confused and somewhat embarrassed.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What the hell are you laughing at?!”
Sam Jr: “Bahahahahaha!!!! I’m sorry!!!...ahahahaha….”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What’s so fucking funny?!”
Sam Jr: “Ahaha..ahaha...hmm...ohhh sweet jesus I needed that laugh. No, forgive me Miss Buchannan...but….is that what you call dancing!?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What do you mean?!”
Sam Jr: “THAT….that ain’t dancin! It looked very pretty, don’t get me wrong...but that was some kind of catwalkin’ nonsense...maybe I’m just a simple country boy and my tastes aren’t as refined as I thought they were. I’m sure on the runways of Paris those moves are second to none but...bahahahaha!!!!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Alright, wise ass. I get your point. Well if you’re such a professional why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
Sam Jr: “....alright.” He said, catching his breath and laying his hand out in front of him. “Give me your hand.”
Blair Buchanan-Stylez: “What? You’re kidding.”
Sam Jr: “Come on, Princess, just give me your hand! Loosen up for once.”
Against her better judgement, Blair delicately placed her well manicured hand in his, which Sam quickly clasped with his own. Raising their arms into the air, Sam Jr twirled Blair around smoothly before catching her on the rebound with his arm wrapped around her lower back. Blair, stunned, stared at Sam Jr with those wide, beautiful brown eyes of hers.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “........what……..the fuck?”
Sam Jr: “Ah, come on now Miss Buchannan. Every respectable Southern gentleman knows his way around a dance floor. How else do you think we learn how to sweep those sweet little debutantes like yourself off their feet?”
DEEPLY rolling her eyes, Blair was about to respond no doubt with some snarky remark when suddenly the both of them were jolted by the sensation of the yacht bucking against the dock. It seemed as though their little cruise had come to an end, which was all it took for Blair to snap back to reality.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Thank you for dinner, Junior...i’ll think about what you said in regards to trying to work together...but, I should get going. I’ve got a Championship to win back.”
Maneuvering her way out from between Sam Jr’s arms, Blair gathered her things before making her way back toward the ramp leading down to the dock.
Sam Jr: “Blair...wait!”
Before Blair could begin her descent, Sam caught up with her and grabbed her by the wrist. Whipping Blair around, Sam takes a deep breath as if mustering the courage to do what he’s about to do...and then, he does it. Leaning forward, Sam plants a passionate kiss on Blair’s lips. Blair’s eyes go wide and she almost immediately pushes away from him to Sam Jr’s surprise.
Sam Jr: “I’m sorr-...” *WHAM*
Before he could even get the words out, Blair swiftly decks Sam Jr in the jaw.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What the FUCK is wrong with you?!”
Holding his jaw with one hand, Sam Jr begins to plead with the furious woman.
Sam Jr: “I apologize...I must have misread the signals or something...I thought-..”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “You THOUGHT WRONG, asshole! Jeeeeeesus fucking CHRIST! You know, I allllllllmost fell for your little good guy act. I should have known you were just another piece of shit...oh, and by the way, I wasn’t eating because the food sucked and had no seasoning! You bland, flat ass having, wannabe Brad Pitt looking mother-...UGGGH!”
Even more irritated than she was before she had arrived, Blair turns around so quickly that she whips Sam Jr in the face with her hair before doing this ridiculous little tiptoe run down the ramp and back over to the car service that had brought her to the marina. Once inside the car, Blair rolls the window down and all that can be seen is her well manicured hand flipping Sam Jr the bird before the luxury vehicle drives her away.
Back on the yacht, Sam checks his lip for blood with an odd smirk across his face. He watched as the car carrying Blair made it’s escape. Blair was, no doubt, eager to put this entire situation behind her. Little did she know it was about to get a little worse...because unbeknownst to her, the man that her husband had hired to follow she and Apathy had been tailing her this entire time...and while nothing necessarily happened, the wrestler turned private investigator known as Eoin O’Rourke was able to get a picture of what had transpired between Sam Laramie Jr and Blair Buchannan-Stylez...and as everybody knows…
A picture’s worth a thousand words.
XOXO