Post by Blair Buchannan-Stylez on Apr 26, 2020 23:20:13 GMT -5
". . . Baby, this is what you came for . . ."
-Rihanna
OPW SOUTHERN HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
Blair Buchannan-Stylez
In
You're Welcome!
After meeting with Johnny for what Blair felt was a much needed discussion after everything that had gone down between her and Sam Laramie Jr prior to InJu$tice For All, Blair felt even more uneasy than she did before. To her, the conversation went a little too well. She laid out exactly what had transpired, explaining that the kiss was all a misunderstanding and that she firmly put Sam Jr in his place, and that was that. She had prepared herself for Johnny to lose his shit. That, she was used to and knew how to process. What she didn’t expect, however, was how calm he was after everything was said and done. Chaos, she could deal with. Hell, she thrived in chaos. As sick as it sounds, Johnny’s chaotic temper was part of what attracted her to him in the first place. It was thrilling to Blair.
But this...this was something different. The way that he just calmly sat back as she explained to him what happened, and then was quiet and even almost understanding was something foreign to Blair...and she didn’t know why, but it was unsettling. It’s not like she expected him to retaliate against her or anything...but for him to show practically no emotion and go the complete opposite was in a way even scarier than if he had. Something definitely didn’t feel right, but Blair figured that with all she’d been through in life, she was probably so used to chaos that she wouldn’t know harmony if it had fallen into her lap. So, she chalked it up to a win and continued on with her day.
The remainder of Blair’s “day” consisted of dropping in to see a therapist at the mandate of HBO Executives by way of OPW Commissioner Ariel Shadows, in between shopping trips of course. She was also supposed to do some damage control too, seeing as how apparently Johnny’s visit was less than stellar. Blair was not exactly thrilled about being psycho-analized. She feared going to see a shrink the way most people feared going to the dentist. Still, she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter...and if she wanted to compete, she had to get the therapist to sign off on her and the rest of the Syndicate so that they could be cleared for their match at the Showcase.
Blair made her way into the waiting room of the therapist’s office. She had been previously preparing for the match by doing her favorite form of cardio, shopping. As such, there were a few large shopping bags dangling from her fingers as she made her way inside. With her custom made OPW Southern Heavyweight Championship title belt by gucci peeing out from one of the shopping bags, Blair confidently strolled up to the front desk where she saw a very young, attractive woman sitting behind the desk.
Receptionist: “May I help you?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Yes, my name is Blair...I’m here to see a Doctor Kurt Simon? We had an appointment but I heard he had a little accident so I totally understand if he needs to reschedule or something.”
Receptionist: “...i’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “......Fabulous!” She said with a grin, but was visibly uncomfortable. “...and would you be a lifesaver and fetch me a white chocolate mocha latte please? With almond milk.”
Receptionist: “Um...there's a coffee machine right behind you.”
The receptionist pointed and Blair followed her gaze over to a sad looking little coffee pot sitting on a small end table next to a pile of Home & Garden magazines. Blair turned back to the receptionist with her brows a bit furrowed.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I’m sorry, I don’t think you understood me. I asked for a LAAAAAH-TAAAAAAAAY..”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “ Mrs.Stylez! Please, come in..”
Seconds away from going full Naomi Campbell on the receptionist, Blair was suddenly interrupted by a man at the far end of the room, standing in the doorway of his office. His arm was in a cast, signs from his ‘interaction’ with Johnny earlier. Amazingly enough, he seemed to be doing alright all things considered.
Blair made her way into his office with her shopping bags in tow. It was a struggle, but she managed to fit them all into one chair in front of the therapist’s desk, before pulling down the hem of her form fitting one shoulder bandage dress in soft pink, before gracefully sitting down in the chair next to it and crossing one leg behind the other at the ankles.
Dr. Kurt Simon: “Well...I’m sure you know why you’re here.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I do.”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “Fantastic….and….you’re willing to comply with this session?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Absolutely.”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “...Well...okay then! Why don’t we get started? Can you tell me-...”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “WELL, it all started when I was about six or seven and mama entered me into my first Beauty Pageant…”
As stated earlier, Blair had a deep fear of being psycho-analyzed. So, she decided that her best bet would be to go into this thing with a fully realized strategy. She has not actually ever sought professional help before, but she figured it was a lot like going to confession. The idea being that she would purge all of her sins, be absolved, and on her merry way. About an hour later, Blair had gone through a litany of her past traumatic and not so traumatic experiences, rattling one right after the other without giving the therapist much time to speak. She figured, the less time she gave him to ask questions, the better. If she could run out the clock on the session, then she would be home free.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “So you see, by the time I was sexually assaulted by the cameraman who shot my first big magazine cover, I had become so used to smiling through the pain that it just became second nature. I reconciled it by saying the end justifies the means since that cover did make me pretty famous...but now I know better. SO...that’s pretty much it...I guess I should be going. Would you mind letting HBO know that me, Tyler, and Johnny are all good to go for the match?”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “......yyyeahh….that was all very interesting, Blair, and deeply troubling to hear..but...I don’t think you quite understand the point of this session.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Um, yes I do!”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “No...no, I don’t think you do….You just spent the past forty minutes talking about yourself...and only yourself. The point of this session is to air our your issues with the other competitors in this match so that there isn’t any residual anger that could put you or any of them at any more risk than is necessary.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “That’s so silly...iiiiii’m not the one with the problem. They are.”
Dr Kurt Simon: “Interesting...care to explain?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What’s there to explain?! If anything, The Syndicate are the victims in this scenario. Clearly, they’re all OBSESSED with us! I mean...Roger Wright has had it out for my husband since like, forever, and now he won’t stop talking about me every chance he gets. EVEN THOUGH we haven’t been together in YEARS!..I’ve literally done everything I can do to distance myself from him, but he won’t shut up. Like, for crying out loud...I even gave up my parental rights so that we never had to interact. Yet every time my name gets brought up it’s the same old...poor me, Blair is a meanie, i’ve moved on!...But like, have you really bruh? Because apparently he’s still talking about me…”
Dr Kurt Simon: “I can see how that would be frustrating.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “It’s not even frustrating at this point, it’s just sad...and his girlfriend is no better! Every single time this woman brings my name up, it’s like she’s trying to get under my skin by flaunting a life she has that i DONATED TO CHARITY like last season’s Prada!..Oh, and on top of that, she like totally wants to fuck my husband. Which is fine, like, I get it...he’s a fuckable guy. But I mean, maybe i’m old fashioned...but if you’re secure and happy within your current relationship, doesn’t it seem weird that she’d be constantly throwing herself another man? Take me out of the equation, and it’s still weird. You would think Roger would feel some type of way, but he’s a cuck so I guess it doesn’t phase him. He’s very submissive...feminine even, which is why I kicked him to the curb to begin with. Oh, and did you know she grabbed my husband’s genitals the other day on national television? Like GIRL! It’s so pitiful...I could never imagine being that thirsty for validation. Publicity, yes. Validation? No. I just think it’s comical how she can pretend to have this superiority complex over me, yet she’s afraid to challenge me for the OPW Heavyweight Title, so she goes and names challengers she knows she can beat. Scurry ass bitch!”
Dr Kurt Simon: “...and what about your other opponent? Allison Riggs-Preston?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I’m sorry, WHO?!”
Dr Kurt Simon: “It says here that you beat her for that Southern Championship that you have in that shopping bag…Do you have any pent up frustrations toward her?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh HER!...Yeah, negative on that one. To be honest, I totally forgot I even faced her...I thought I beat Jesse Styles for the strap but you’re right...I did beat her for it....it was Jesse Styles who I DEFENDED it against. No, I don’t really have much to say about her...I mean, I think she needs to get her roots done if she wants to be taken seriously as a blonde, but that’s none of my business…”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “I, see....well, Honestly Blair…”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “WAIT! Before you say anything else…I just want you to know that, I know what a man like you really wants. You don’t care about any of this drivel...and I have it on good authority that you’ve got a thing for your receptionist out there...so why don’t we make a deal?”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “What did you have in mind?”
Blair looked from side to side, as if checking to make sure that nobody could hear them inside of a room with a door that was clearly closed. She lowered her voice then, looking back at the therapist.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “....well...my tits may not be porn star quality….but i’ve got a phone full of fresh ass shots with your name written all ov-...”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “THAT really won’t be necessary, Mrs. Stylez! While I’m flattered by the offer, and if you weren’t the wife of someone who I believe is genuinely insane I might take you up on it….what I was GOING to say is...off the record, I think every last one of you in this match are clearly unstable...but I also believe there isn’t anything I can do to stop you from doing what you want in that ring. SO, depending on whether or not your friend Tyler Knowles shows up for his appointment... i’m going to sign off to clear your team to compete!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Really?! Oh..Yay! You’re a peach, you know that?”
She said, standing up and smoothing her dress. Blair began to gather up her shopping bags and title before heading to the door.
Dr. Kurt Simon: “Mrs.Stylez...I do want to add….I think you’re a very troubled young woman, and could definitely benefit from a few more sessions. Think about it!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “You’re the sweetest! Exactly how young do I look to you? Like...if you had to guess a number?”
Dr. Kurt Simon: “.....Have a nice day, Blair.”
The Wright Farm
Webberville, Texas
Photographer: “Yes! Beautiful!! Gorgeous!!! Stunning!!! Give us some over the shoulder...YES!! Okay hold that pose...lift the belt a little higher...PERFECT!!!”
As was customary with all of the OPW Shows, Blair had arrived a day early to ensure that her trailer/dressing room had been properly secured and set-up to her liking. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back on The Wright Farm. In fact, it felt almost eerie to be there at all. After all, in an alternate universe, this place would very likely have been her home. But in this life, it was just another venue for Monday Night Showcase which just happened to be held at a pretty awkward location as far as Blair wasn’t concerned.
It wasn’t just the fact that it was Roger Wright’s farm which made things uncomfortable. Let’s face it, Blair Buchannan-Stylez was not the rustic type; she was partial to more glamorous and exquisite settings. Regardless, there was nothing she could really do about it given the current state of affairs revolving around her husband’s lack of power while Roger acclimated to his new position as Co-Owner, unchecked. So, Blair did what she always does and chose to turn lemons into lemon drop martinis. If she had to be here, she might as well get something out of it.
So, after some deliberation, Blair decided that this was a great opportunity to stage a photo shoot. There was nothing in Blair’s wardrobe that paired well with bales of hay, of course. But she was, once again, the OPW Southern Heavyweight Champion and she had gotten there on her terms just like everything else in her career. The HBO, Netflix, and OPW camera crews surrounded Blair as she was having her picture taken by a photographer outside of a barn.
Dressed in an elegant white Tom Ford dress that cut off above the knee and had gold chained shoulder straps, falling off of her shoulders of course, Blair went through her arsenal of poses with the OPW Southern Heavyweight Championship title belt slung over her forearm like a designer handbag. With each click of the camera, Blair switched to a different pose. Finally, she tossed her mane of caramel and auburn hair over to one side before hoisting the belt onto her shoulder and glaring into the lens of the camera defiantly, with a sexy smirk dancing across her lips.
Photographer: “MONEY!!! That’s it Blair, give me more of that raw, sexy energy!!!”
This had already been going on for quite some time as Zuma, Blair’s younger brother, stood on the sidelines seemingly uninterested. He sighed, and checked the invisible watch on his wrist before tilting his head back on his shoulders and letting out a groan.
Zuma Rockwell: “How much longer is this going to take?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “You can’t rush perfection, sweetie!” She said, not breaking eye contact with the camera.
Zuma Rockwell: “Okay well...I’m going to take a look around. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “..Does it..”
She fluffed up her hair a little bit, still looking into the camera.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “...Look like..”
Switching her weight to one leg, she placed a hand on her hip.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “...I give….”
Pouting her lips, Blair turned her face to the side to give the camera a view of her looking down, while showcasing the large and very expensive gold & diamond hoop earrings she was wearing.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “...a fuck?”
Zuma Rockwell: “Yeah, okay...whatever ho. That angle makes you look like you have a double chin anyway…”
He said loud enough for Blair to hear, even though she pretended not to and instead just widened her grin to keep from showing that she was annoyed.
Photographer: “Oooh...honey...soften that face a little. I can see a vein in your forehead.”
Zuma laughed to himself, shaking his eyes as he began to wander off around the farm with his eye glued to his phone which he was currently using to scroll through TikTok. So many challenges...so little time…
Eventually Zuma’s aimless wandering led him to a horse stable, and his focus shifted from his phone to the infectious laughter of a little blonde girl feeding a carrot to one of the horses. His head tilted to the side as he watched her, feeding and petting the horse without a care in the world. The sun hitting his skin made her look like she was lit from within. Slowly, Zuma approached the little girl as not to startle her before speaking.
Zuma Rockwell: “Hi...Can I try to feed him?”
The little girl stopped what she was doing and turned to Zuma, appraising him cautiously. After a moment of seemingly assessing his character, as children are somehow able to do better than most adults, she decided that she’d allow it and offered her bucket of carrots toward him.
Zuma Rockwell: “Thanks…” He said, taking one of the carrots and holding it up to the horse’s mouth who began to eagerly chomp away at it short of missing Zuma’s hand, which he swiftly pulled away in the knick of time. “Geez! He almost took my arm off!”
“Careful!” the little girl said with a giggle.
Zuma then squatted down so that he was at eye level with the girl, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old.
Zuma Rockwell: “Is your name Marie?” He asked. The little girl looked surprised.
Marie: “How did you know that?”
Zuma Rockwell: “My name is Zuma...I’m your mother’s…” At once he could instantly see a glimmer of confusion in the little girl’s face which nearly made Zuma’s heart break. “I mean...i’m Blair’s brother.”
Marie: “...Oh.” She said, softly. “My daddy said she would be around ‘cus of the show...He said I didn’t have to talk to her if I didn’t want to.”
Zuma Rockwell: “Lucky you!” He said, giving Marie a knowing smile. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
Marie: “I’m not by myself.” She said, matter of factly while proceeding to feed the horse another carrot.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zuma noticed a man that he did not immediately recognize standing only a few feet behind watching over their interaction intently. Zuma held his hand up discreetly toward the man, to signal that he didn’t mean any harm. The man, though not completely letting his guard fall down, did somewhat relax a bit while continuing to watch the two.
Zuma Rockwell: “It seems you’re right. My mistake…”
Marie: “...So if you’re Blair’s brother….does that make you my uncle?”
He didn’t know why, but it caught him off guard. It was a perfectly reasonable question, even for a child of Marie’s age. Still, it was something he hadn’t considered until this moment.
Zuma Rockwell: “I suppose so...is that okay with you?”
Marie: “Sure.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I gots a lot of aunties and uncles now. They’re Wollllllves!”
For a brief moment, Zuma thought she was just playing around. Especially with the way she emphasized the word ‘Wolves’ with a playful growl. Then, the reality of the situation donned on him as he realized who she was referring to and remembered who her father was currently seeing all at once.
Zuma Rockwell: “You’re a very lucky little girl. I don’t have very much family...really any family at all, except for Blair.”
Marie: “Does she make you eat yucky veggies and do chores all the time too?”
Zuma Rockwell: “...Sometimes.” He said with a laugh.
“Marie!...Time to get cleaned up for supper!” The man who was watching their interaction called out. Zuma understood what the man really meant was ‘that’s enough chit chat.’ So he stood back up.
Zuma Rockwell: “Well..it was lovely to meet you, Marie. Your horse is beautiful.”
Marie: “Thanks! It was nice meeting you too, Mr.Zuma! Take care!”
...and just like that, she was off. Zuma smiled to himself as he watched the little girl bounce off toward the man, and up to the large house at the head of the farm. He sighed, shaking his head, before turning and walking back in the direction of the barn.
Upon reaching it, he realized that the photographer and all of the camera crews were gone. Walking around the barn, he made his way inside of it. It was empty, except for Blair, who had just finished changing out of her white dress and into something more comfortable, which, for Blair meant another almost identical dress in an earth tone...perhaps it was her attempt at blending in with the scenery as she was meticulously sealing the white dress she had on earlier in a plastic garment bag.
Zuma Rockwell: “Another successful shoot in the can?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Perfect, as always!” She said with a sigh, inspecting the dress inside the garment bag for any flaws. “...and where did you run off to?”
Zuma Rockwell: “I took a walk around the property…..I ran into Marie.”
As he said this, he searched Blair’s face for any sort of emotion. Instead, she simply scoffed while checking her makeup in the reflection of her custom made Gucci OPW Southern Heavyweight Championship title belt.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Did you?...and how was that?” She asked, pouting her lips out and blowing a kiss into the plate of the belt.
Zuma Rockwell: “It was nice...She asked me if I was her uncle...I told her that I would be, if she was okay with that...and she said she was.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “How fabulous for you both.” She says, sarcastically.
Zuma Rockwell: “Do you regret giving her up?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Not for one second.”
Zuma Rockwell: “How can you say that?”
Closing her eyes, Blair took in a deep breath before setting the OPW Southern Heavyweight Championship Belt on the plastic garment bag she layed out across a stack of hay. Then, quite seriously, Blair turned to face Zuma dead on and clasped her hands together at her chest, lacing her fingers together as she spoke.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Zuma...It’s like this. I may not be a lot of things, but one thing I am is self aware. I know myself, and I know the damage my mother’s did to me is to some degree irreparable...You would be surprised at the amount of crazy shit that goes on inside my head as a result...and I did not want to continue that cycle, or subject another human being to that.”
Zuma Rockwell: “Okay, but you know all of this about yourself so you could have made the choice to break the cycle and do better!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “You didn’t let me finish. As I was saying, I know myself well enough to know that no matter how much I may have liked to admit I was different...i’m not. The fact is, I wouldn’t love my child if they didn’t turn out to be cool, or popular. It’s fucked up, but that’s just the way it is. I could see very early on in Marie’s development that she was more like Roger than I cared for...granted, she has my bone structure so if she ever does manage to lose the weight her father’s genes have cursed her with, then maybe she’ll have a chance in this world since she’s going to grow up rich anyway.”
Zuma Rockwell: “That’s...a horrible thing to say!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I KNOW IT IS!...But i’m sorry, that’s just the way I feel and I’m not going to change my mind about it. Severing all ties with that girl is the single most selfless and generous thing I’ve done in my entire life...but also, I did it for myself too! I mean look where we are right now…”
Zuma took a look around the well kept barn on the expansive property.
Zuma Rockwell: “...and to think...it could have all been yours. Be honest...you don’t miss living here at all? I know Roger happened to mention something about you not being welcome back anytime soon.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “What?...When did he say that?”
Zuma Rockwell: “He held a press conference or something. Saying how he’s moved on.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I thought he been already moved on! Oh wait he must have all this spare time because he’s playing the fourth wheel in his own relationship. I must say, the mind reels.”
Zuma Rockwell: “So that’s a no on missing the farm then.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “...Oh get real, Zuma, honestly...Imagine me giving tours to the local townsfolk while wearing some sort of house dress….” Blair began to gesture around the barn, as if speaking to imaginary visitors. “...and over here you’ll see our cows...this is where we get our milk from and I churn all of our own butter!...and if you look up toward the ceiling, you’ll see that the beams are expertly crafted from the Oak Trees out back...they’re nice and sturdy, perfect for when I decide to hang myself!....and scene.”
Zuma Rockwell: “...Okay, I get the point. Jesus. Dramatic much?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “It had to be said. So to answer your question...do I miss the smell of cow shit and faking orgasms for Roger Wright’s benefit? No. I would have been fucking miserable here and it would have made everyone else miserable too. So I ask you, what is the point? But nobody wants to see it that way, because that would be too convenient. Instead, I get demonized for being the only non-selfish person in this scenario if you ask me. The alternative would have been me putting on a show for somebody to make them happy. Even I know i’m not that good of an actress, sooner or later, it would have gotten ugly. I just made the decision not to delay the inevitable. I’m genuinely overjoyed that Anicka came in when she did, solely for the fact that she was able to get Roger off of my back!”
Not completely convinced that Zuma was realizing the full scope of what she was trying to say, she decided to drive her point home even further.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Follow me. I want you to see something.”
With that, Blair lifted the Southern Championship from the bale of hay and walked over to the opening of the barn to look out at something in the distance. Zuma joined shortly after, and followed her line of sight to see the OPW Crew constructing the set for Monday Night Showcase. The sun was beginning to set and just as the sky started to darken, flood lights illuminated the farm giving it an entirely different feel. Zuma noticed that Blair’s eyes lit up as well.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Do you really think that I would be here if I weren’t contractually obligated to do so? I mean look at that ring...look at those stands who, in less than twenty four hours, will be packed to the brim with screaming fans. I’m here for this…” She says, pointing down the property at the construction.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “This…” She says, holding up her Southern Heavyweight Title right her right hand. “....and this!”
Blair raises her left hand so that Zuma can get a good look at the very large, very beautiful, and disgustingly expensive diamond ring given to her by her husband and Co-Owner of OPW, LA Johnny Stylez.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “All that other superfluous shit doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is going down to that ring tomorrow night with Johnny and Tyler so that we can wipe the fucking floor with three misfits who are what? Honorary Wolves? I mean, how ridiculously and utterly hilarious is that? Johnny and Tyler have their own axes to grind with Roger..as far as i’m concerned, I’m just along for the ride but i’ll smack the shit out of him just for shits and giggles since he wants my attention so badly...Anicka Swan, yeah I guess she’s talented sometimes but the ho ain’t all that...she certainly isn’t worthy of being the OPW Heavyweight Champion since she’s obviously scared to challenge me for it, and everybody knows...and Allison Riggs-Preston? Chiiiiiiiild don’t make me laugh. I honestly forgot she was still around. I damn sure I forgot I beat her to win this title the first time. I swear to God, it just feels so at home with me, I just felt like I woke up one day and it materialized in my arms. For the Syndicate, this will be a continuance of what happened last week at Inju$tice for All. At the very least, it will give Allison, Roger, and Anicka something else to talk about for the next few weeks since they obviously don’t have shit else interesting going on in their lives...so once again not only can they thank us for the dinner table conversation, but they can also thank us for reminding everyone else who they are in the first place.”
You're Welcome!
...Bitches...
...Bitches...
Zuma Rockwell: “....wait...who are you talking to?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I was having a moment, Zuma!”
Zuma: “Oh….um….okay.”
XOXO