Post by Blair Buchannan-Stylez on Jun 12, 2020 20:21:56 GMT -5
The Road to Hell is Paved
With Good Intentions
BLAIR BUCHANNAN-STYLEZ
in
Gods & Monsters
With Good Intentions
BLAIR BUCHANNAN-STYLEZ
in
Gods & Monsters
In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an Angel.
Living in the Garden of Evil.
I was an Angel.
Living in the Garden of Evil.
New York City was not where she was born, but this place had a significant impact on shaping the woman who would become known as Blair Buchannan. Before wrestling...before everything, Blair began her career as a professional model in this city. She first arrived in the city when she was just 17, still wide eyed and very much naive. She had always been competitive of course. Years of climbing to the top of the extremely disciplined and cut throat pageant circuit instilled that into her very core. Yet after making the leap from Miss Louisiana to a virtual unknown, Blair went from being a big fish in a small pond to feeling like a guppy in the middle of an ocean. An ocean she would soon learn was full of sharks.
Of course, by now we all know the story. The girl next door turned overnight sensation after landing her first major magazine cover all thanks to the famous photographer who ‘discovered’ her. Then there were the rumors and whispers of what people believed really happened: That Blair, like so many young aspiring women at the time, simply sold a piece of her soul and slept with the photographer in exchange for favoritism. What was not widely discussed was the fact that the photographer had forced himself on the underage model and used the magazine cover as a way to justify his actions...a way to buy her silence. Even less people knew that the entire exchange had been orchestrated by Denise Buchannan, Blair’s own mother, who had been managing her budding career since she was in single digits.
None of that mattered, though, even though Blair herself tried to defend her name by explaining the true nature of what had happened to people she thought were her friends--other models who were gunning for her same position, and booking agents who only saw her as a means to make a few buckets. They always preferred to believe the more sordid gossip over the truth which only served to nurture a deep-seated resentment in Blair that flowered into an anger which manifested itself in the form of petulance. This behavior only flourished and bloomed as Blair’s notoriety and fame grew, further perpetuating the idea that she was a ‘diva.’ In all honesty, she was, but only incidentally. Knowing that she had been robbed, misunderstood, and labeled as something she wasn’t just made her more entitled. She believed that she deserved better, and so she started demanding better. She started demanding to be treated better, to be given better, and when she was presented with the absolute best...she was left wanting more.
...and she never stopped.
One might assert that it was Blair’s insatiable appetite that ultimately led her back here. Highway to Hell taking place in The Big Apple had so much poetic symmetry that it felt like destiny. What other explanation could there be? It was something of a homecoming, only when Blair Buchannan left New York it was because she’d practically been run out of town by the titans who ruled over this mecca. Her reputation of being impossible to work with spread like wildfire in the fashion industry and eventually got the better of her, with every opportunity going up in flames. Now, as Blair Buchannan-Stylez, she had returned to settle the score and scorch the earth in her wake.
True, she was there on official OPW business. Blair was to defend her Southern Heavyweight Championship in Central Park against Tommy Kain and King Quari in what was sure to be the highlight of the evening. However, she had some old loose ends that needed tying up. It had only been a day since her husband proposed again, in an effort to ‘do it right’ this time. His speech about marking the final things off of his bucket list and wanting to forge ahead inspired her to also lay her old demons to rest once and for all. Only after she grappled with those little fuckers and cinched the noose around their throats would she be able to tie the knot and truly get a fresh start. To Blair, life had always been a game and this last obstacle was the only thing from keeping her from ascending to the next level.
...Fuck yeah, give it to me...
this is heaven
...what I truly want...
Is innocence lost!
this is heaven
...what I truly want...
Is innocence lost!
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Patrick!...I’m so happy you agreed to meet me!”
Her voice rang out as she entered the office at Condė Nast, the publishing magnate that produced magazines such as Wired, GQ, and of course...Vogue. During her time as a supermodel, Blair had managed to land every international cover except of course the U.S version. In fact, her very first cover was on Teen Vogue. The instant Johnny had proposed, Blair’s mind instantly envisioned finally being on the U.S cover in the best Bridal Couture money could buy. Luckily her return to prominence opened doors that had been previously shut to her and she was able to set up a meeting with their editors, but first...she needed to secure the perfect photographer.
With the theme of the week being full-circle moments, she couldn’t think of a more appropriate person to capture her at her best for the cover of the magazine that eluded her throughout her entire career than the man responsible for her ‘overnight success.’ That’s right...it was the same man who, over a decade plus some years ago, had defiled Blair at the start of her career and was equally responsible in her eyes for her downfall in the fashion industry. Blair’s tone was an unusually sweet shift from the usual condescending monotone that normally flowed from her lips, like a honey coated venom.
Patrick: “Blair Buchannan...how long has it been?” The man asked as he stood up to greet her. It was amazing. Not a hint of regret in his voice. He seemed genuinely happy to see her. Funny how time...and money...can cause selective amnesia.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Too long.” She said, giving him the European style kiss on the right and then left cheek.
The office, which was more of a boardroom, had a minimalist vibe that was almost sterile with white marble floors, all white marble walls, and only one white rectangular table in the center with a few glossy white porcelain chairs on each side. Except for the glass door that Blair entered through, there was only one other outlet: a door on the opposite end of the room that blended in with the walls. The room had no windows, only the chill of central air conditioning lightly humming in the background.
Blair was dressed in an equally minimalist fashion, albeit slightly more edgy. The oversized black long sleeved sweater with distressed holes strategically cut into it to reveal glimpses of her tanned, toned midsection underneath served more as a mini dress since it ended dangerously high on her thighs to reveal those signature long legs of her punctuated by a pair of clear peeptoe stilettos that made her legs look even longer. The diamond studded choker around her neck added a touch of her signature glam, while her long wavy black hair and fresh face of barely there makeup gave her a more effortlessly sexy appearance.
She was more stunning than ever, but it wasn’t just because of the way she looked. There was something about the easy way she carried herself now...more confident and more self assured. Certainly the man in front of her took notice. She was a far cry from the insecure girl he had taken advantage of so many years ago. With a stealth glance, never giving way to her cheery demeanor, Blair appraised the aging photographer. He was in his late fifties now, but still dressed the same. Jeans and a t-shirt over a long sleeved thermal. His face still held some resemblance to the man she met before..the same steely eyes and crooked smile, but with more wrinkles around his eyes and white in his hair. Blair secretly delighted in the fact that the world around her seemed to be aging, painfully, while life had seemingly had the opposite effect on her...at least on the outside.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Please, sit!” She says, gesturing toward one of the porcelain chairs before pulling one out and sliding into it herself. Patrick followed suit.
Patrick: “I have to admit...I was a little surprised to be summoned by one of your assistants.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh?” She asked, feigning a look of surprise. “...and why is that?”
Patrick: “Well...you know...things between us didn’t exactly end well. I wasn’t sure you ever wanted to see me again.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “On the contrary, Patrick. I’ve been waiting twenty years for the moment.”
...that alligator grin creeps across her lips as she bares her teeth. Then, just as quickly, it’s replaced with a sweet smile while she tucks a few rogue strands of hair behind one ear, revealing a large platinum and diamond encrusted hoop earring.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “You see...my husband and I are renewing our vows soon. We eloped late last summer and everything happened so fast...we didn’t really get to have that fairy tale moment every girl dreams about. I was hoping that Vogue might consider putting me on the U.S cover...and I figured if they knew you were shooting said cover, that might give me a little more leverage.”
Patrick, for all his irredeemable traits, did have the distinction of shooting every supermodel on the cover of Vogue since the early 80’s so his name did have a certain amount of pull in the industry despite everyone knowing and turning a blind eye to the fact that he was a predatory piece of shit.
Patrick: “I see…” He said, ruminating over her words as he leaned back in his chair a bit more comfortable. “So...I guess this means you aren’t mad at me anymore?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “That was a long time ago, Patrick. I’m sure you’ve changed since then. Lord knows I have...besides...everybody makes mistakes. I guess you could say I’m at a point in my life where I’m trying not to hold grudges anymore. It takes too much energy. This cover would be a way to not only signal a new era in my life...but also close a chapter in a story that needed to be put to bed long ago. For both of us.”
Patrick: “I couldn’t agree more..” He started, excitedly, before Blair suddenly cut him off.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “BUT!” She said, holding her index finger in the air for emphasis. “There is something else I need from you first.”
Patrick: “Of course...an apology I assume.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “...of sorts...You see...what you did to me all those years ago...it affected me more than you’ll ever know. It poisoned my view of the world, not only because of what you did...but because of the way I was treated by everyone in the industry after that moment. It was as if I had somehow asked for it...to be raped.”
Patrick: “Wait a minute, Blair...that’s a pretty strong thing to say.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Is it?..and what, pray tell, would you call it?”
Patrick: “I mean come on...we were both young…”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I was a lot younger than you were, Patrick. A lot more impressionable.”
Patrick: “Yeah but I didn’t realize just HOW young you were.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “It was a cover shoot for TEEN VOGUE, for Christ’s sake. Surely you had an idea.”
Patrick: “It was so long ago! Besides, the way your mother set things up, she made it seem like you knew what you were getting yourself into. That’s just how things were back then.”
Blair’s jaw tightened at the mention of her mother, now deceased.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Believe me...I hold Denise just as accountable for what happened as I do you...but unfortunately, she’s no longer around for me to vilify. I believe she is paying the ultimate price in hell for eternity because of the things she put me through. I’m trying to spare you the same consequence.”
Silence permeated the air so much so that it was nearly deafening. Blair stared at Patrick, whose gaze was directed at the floor as he let her words sink in. Finally, he sighed before holding his palms out and speaking.
Patrick: “Okay...you’re right. I am sorry.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Sorry for what, exactly?”
Patrick: “Ugggh Blair come on…” He groaned. “Are you really going to make me say it?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Yes. I want to hear the words. I think you’d agree that you owe me at least that much.”
Patrick: “Fine. I’m sorry for...for taking advantage of you all those years ago. I guess I figured like all the other girls you were just wanting to pay for the price of fame...doing what you had to do to get ahead. I should have known better...No...I did know better...and I did it anyway.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Did what, Patrick?”
He sighed...before swallowing down the knot in his throat before speaking.
Patrick: “...I raped you.”
After hearing the words escape his mouth, Blair leaned back in her chair. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but not in the way one might think. A look of sick satisfaction creeps across her face as she stares down at the middle aged man...who simply looks defeated.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh Patrick, thank you...truly...you honestly don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Patrick looks up then, trying to gauge Blair’s expression but her face is suddenly unreadable.
Patrick: “So...does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh absolutely not!”
Patrick: “....what?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “.......you’re truly pathetic, you know that?” She says, the low condescending monotone that she’s known for returning in an instant.
Patrick: “I know...but I promise you, i’ve changed since then. I’ve got a wife and a little girl of my own now...I would never want her to go through what you went through...and I never want her to know the kind of monster I used to be. Promise me Blair, that this stays between us. If this got out...I don’t know what I would do. I couldn’t take it if my wife and daughter looked at me the way you’re looking at me now.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh Patrick...you poor fool...i’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
“....daddy?”
A thin voice calls out from the now opened door on the opposite end of the room that once blended in with the walls around it. Blair, looking triumphantly smug, takes in the look of shock and horror that flashes across Patrick’s face as he recognizes the voice instantly.
Patrick: “...Lilly…” He says, turning toward the door and seeing the confused look on his young daughter’s face. She’s accompanied by an older woman, presumably the mother.
Patrick’s Wife: “We were told they were filming some sort of documentary...that you’d be getting a lifetime achievement award for your work or something and we were supposed to come out here and surprise you.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh, i’d say he’s pretty surprised.”
She says, seemingly to herself as Patrick’s wife does not acknowledge Blair. She only looks at her husband with disgust and dread, holding her arm around their young daughter as if shielding her from this man she no longer recognizes.
Patrick’s Wife: “Oh Patrick...how could you?”
Patrick: “Wait...I can explain.”
“...That won’t be necessary.” Another voice calls out from behind Patrick’s wife and daughter coming from the adjoining room. Three more people make their way into the conference room followed by a camera crew. One of them is legendary Vogue Editor and Chief Anna Wintour, along with two other senior magazine editors, a man and a woman dressed in chic stylish ensembles, who all have disappointed looks on their face.
Patrick: “What is this?!”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “It’s a setup, dummy. Did you really think I was going to actually forgive you? I just wanted to get your confession and make you...what’s the term you used before? Oh right..pay the price of fame. What goes around comes around, you spineless piece of shit.”
Patrick’s wife covers their daughters' ears before walking her out of the conference room through the door Blair entered from earlier, avoiding eye contact with her husband on the way out. All of this seemingly hits Patrick like a whirlwind. His remorseful eyes follow his family as they make their exit, before his head snaps in the direction of the Vogue editors and the cameras.
Patrick: “...and this?! What the fuck are these cameras doing here?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Oh, it’s for my Netflix show: Breakin All The Rulez....I normally do fun silly things like makeovers but I decided to make a special exception for you and do a little career makeunder.”
Anna Wintour: “Based off of what we just saw and heard…”
Patrick: “What do you mean, saw?”
Blair clears her throat in an effort to get Patrick’s attention before pointing up at each corner of the room where glossy white security cameras were set up to blend in with the rest of the room while capturing everything that just went down. It was in that very moment that Patrick realized...he was fucked.
Anna Wintour: “Basically...you’re fucked, Patrick. This behavior you admitted to participating in the past...well...the magazine cannot afford the backlash if this were to go public which Blair has graciously assured us that it wouldn’t as long as we agreed to permanently terminate all of your contracts and give her the July cover.”
Patrick: “Seriously, Blair? All of this...for a magazine cover?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I just like...really want my wedding to be special, y’know?” She says with a shrug. “Oh, looks like that’s your cue…”
As soon as she says this, two burly security guards enter the conference room to escort Patrick out of the room. He holds his hands up as to signal that he’s willing to go peacefully before the three of them make their exit.
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Byyyyyyyeeeeeee!” Blair calls out teasingly, doing a little pageant wave as Patrick is escorted out. She then turns to Anna Wintour and the other editors
Anna Wintour: “Blair, on behalf of Vogue and all of Conde Nast we’d like to extend our deepest regrets...we had no-..”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Save it!” She interjects, holding her hand up to cut Anna off. “So this is what’s going to happen. Not only are you giving me the July cover for my wedding...but you’ll also be featuring my clothing line in the September Issue which of course will get rave reviews. Otherwise, not only will this footage go public...but I will make sure that you and the entire company will be held accountable as well for being complicit all these years by allowing one of your top photographers to accost underage models for years and turning a blind eye. Do we have an understanding?”
The two editors behind Anna exchange worried glances. Anna however, simply clenches her jaw for a moment before offering a warm smile.
Anna Wintour: “...of course. We’ll have all the paperwork drawn up and finalized before the end of the day.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Fabulous...that’s all.”
She says, waving Anna and the other two editors away as if dismissing them from their own office. Anna sigh deeply before signalling for the editors to follow her out of the room. Moments later, Blair is left alone with the camera crew. She smiles then, standing from her seat before circling the table and looking into the camera as she begins to speak.
“ . . . If you don’t know who I am by now . . . ”
...then you should learn it.
...then you should learn it.
“...If you do know who I am…”
then don’t forget it!
then don’t forget it!
" I have spent my entire life surrounded by actual monsters. People who are willing to do the unspeakable to another human being simply for their own personal gain. Those types have zero concern with the consequences of their actions...of the chaos they set into place on a whim. Those are the real bad guys. I was raised by one of them. I married one of them. Hell, I AM one of them. There’s nothing I won’t do to get what I want. My ambition is my weapon and, baby, i’m really good at using it. As I’ve just demonstrated, my willingness to burn everything in my way on the path to absolute goddess-like exaltation extends far outside of the ring, and for that my opponents should be afraid."
" Of course, they’re too ignorant to understand this concept. Tommy Kain and King Quari are just simple pawns in this game of chess, but it doesn't surprise me. People with limited exposure to the world can only aspire toward the highest thing they know. Their minds simply aren’t equipped to envision anything beyond what’s in their direct line of sight. In this instance, currently their sights just happen to be my Southern Heavyweight Championship."
" Tommy Kain is a mental midget trapped in the body of a snuffaluffagus. He is a troglodyte. A Cave-man, who looks like the type of dude that pulls his pants all the way down when he pisses in public urinals. You know...the way little kids do! He’s apparently legitimately retarded and wouldn’t know how to wipe his ass if it weren’t for his handler Pierre and their pet goat...but i’m not interested in them because believe it or not, Tommy Kain seems to somehow always defy the odds and get where he needs to go almost as if it were by accident."
But i’m not fooled
...he knows exactly what he’s doing…
...he knows exactly what he’s doing…
You’re the joke!
...and the punchline...
was your YoungBlood Title reign.
...and the punchline...
was your YoungBlood Title reign.
AHAHAHAHAHA
hahahahahaha
Aha-..haha…ha
*wipes a tear.*
Oh I needed that laugh!
hahahahahaha
Aha-..haha…ha
*wipes a tear.*
Oh I needed that laugh!
" I mean I guess I can’t blame you, Tommy, for wanting to distance yourself from the stench of the now TWICE defunct YoungBlood Division, so for that I guess you deserve SOME respect. I mean, it’s not gonna come from ME but i’m sure someone out there will give you props. At the very least, you actually earned your spot as the number one contender to my title which is more than I can say for King Quari. By the way...has anyone actually figured out exactly what Quari is the King of? ....the King of Failing Upwards, I guess? Quari, I have to admit was the biggest disappointment of all. He came in, claiming to have all this Big Dick Energy when really he’s just a premature ejaculator in the sense that he peaked too quickly. So quickly, in fact, that none of us who actually matter seemed to notice it."
" Quari has ambition, i’ll give him that, but there isn’t any follow through. Anyone can talk a little shit and claim to be the best there ever was. Hell, that’s rookie 101. I want so badly to be able to say that I see him as a formidable threat...but he just hasn’t given me a reason to. Where Tommy Kain has the mind of an infant, King Quari actually is a toddler and his little stunt a few weeks back...you know, where he sexually assaulted me on live television?...well, it proved just that. Actually, no. He’s more like a horny teenager. I imagine he’s the type that fucks like a jackrabbit, and not in a good way. You know...pow pow pow pow pow which is basically just masturbating using a person instead of your hand. Sixty seconds later and it’s over, and all the other person is left with is zero orgasms and one huge headache. No bueno! He just pops off without any clear regard for the consequences of his actions."
" Now I know I said before that there are certain people, myself included, who do whatever they want without regard to the chaos they leave in their wake. That aint the same thing i’m talking about with Quari and Tommy Kain. As I said before, they’re too short sighted to be taken seriously as a threat. Where, when it comes to me, I’m always playing the long game. I very much intend on remaining the OPW Southern Heavyweight Champion long after Highway to Hell. Just like I know that you, Tommy...and you, Quari...intend to dethrone me...but ask yourselves…"
Is it worth it?
No, seriously!
No, seriously!
" Tommy, I know you’re so very carefree and laid back. There’s nothing I could threaten you with that would scare you off...but what about the innocent bystanders that surround you? Think of Pierre...one call to immigration and an investigation would be launched into his background and something tells me that wouldn’t end well for him. All i’d really need is enough dirt on him to get him deported...and in these trying times, I doubt he’d be allowed back in the country anytime soon. Then, of course, there’s GOAT. Is he a service animal? Does he have all his shots and vaccinations? I bet animal control would be very interested to know the answer to these questions and more. Sure, you could probably survive anything...but can you really live with yourself knowing that you’re responsible for sending the closest thing you’ve got to a best friend to live in exile in another country while he awaits his appeal...or knowing that somewhere, GOAT is being served up with a side of curry all because you selfishly wanted to win my title?"
" Quari, you’ve got a son, right? What is he..a year, maybe two years old? If that? These are formative years for a child...the ones where a strong male presence is definitely crucial to their development. I know for a fact that you and your child’s mother aren’t together anymore. That your baby’s mother, Ariana, is volatile and unpredictable. I remember the way she was bitching at you backstage at Showcase a few weeks ago about wanting more money. Do you think she could be bought? I do. If you aren’t already embroiled in a difficult custody battle, i’m sure all it would take is one push from me in that direction and Ariana would be demanding full custody of your son. Especially if she no longer needed you to provide for them. I could easily write a check with enough zeros that would allow Ariana to raise your son by himself...or perhaps, with another male figure around. Imagine your son growing up and calling somebody else ‘daddy’ because you weren’t around enough. Think about it, Quari...courts rarely separate a mother from their child...all she would need is something solid to use against you in court. It would be a shame if something happened that might jeopardize your ability to at least share custody...especially if, say, you had a sexual assault allegation against you made by a co-worker for that little kiss you forced on me with all the cameras watching. It wouldn’t even matter if the allegation stuck. You’re in the public eye now...It would be all over the news...and in the court of public opinion, especially during these times, you’d be found guilty just like that!”
“...Of course...there’s always the chance that i’m bluffing. Surely, I wouldn’t do something so heinous simply to hold onto a title. Would I really try and ruin someone’s life just to extend my reign a little longer? Tear a child away from their parent? Who Knows? I mean...This is the same woman who gave away her own child in exchange for a modeling agency...a woman whose mother died under mysterious circumstances that still have yet to be reconciled. A woman who is known for shamelessly putting herself, her name, her brand, among anything else and by any means necessary…”
...As I said before...
...It’s always the ones...
...who have nothing to lose...
...that prove to be...
...the biggest threat...
...It’s always the ones...
...who have nothing to lose...
...that prove to be...
...the biggest threat...
" So before you decide
if the Southern Championship
is really what you want, ask yourselves."
What have you got to lose?
...I hope for your sake…
it’s worth it!
...I hope for your sake…
it’s worth it!
Later that evening…
Their New York condo at The Plaza Hotel was immaculate and dimly lit. Blair, feeling a sense of accomplishment after her little exploits earlier in the day knew that she just had one more thing to cross off of her bucket list...and that was telling Johnny the truth about what Sam Laramie had shared with her weeks ago. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was going to happen, so after a few glasses of liquid courage, Blair broke out her deck of tarot cards and began to flip through them as if trying to calm herself down. Moments later, the door to the condo opens and in walks her husband.
LA Johnny Stylez: “Honeyyyy I’m hommme!” He exclaims, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way into the condo. His jovial expression changes instantly when he sees Blair peering over her tarot cards. He knew her well enough to know that when she broke out the deck it was never a good sign. “What happened?”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this for weeks now, but it never seemed like the right time…”
LA Johnny Stylez: “Listen BaBe if you’re pregnant or something it’s not that big of a deal. Your body will snap back and if not you know i’ll get you the best plastic surgeons in the world to put you back together again...I mean i’m not totally sure you’ve created the best environment to grow a person inside of you considering how hard you’ve been hitting the bottle lately but…”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “No...it’s not that.” She stands and turns to face him. “It’s about Sam Laramie...I know where he is...I know where he’s been for quite some time now...and i’ve been visiting him behind your back but only because I didn’t want you to do something stupid that could cost us everything.”
Johnny stands there for a moment, taking Blair’s words in. He processes them for a moment, before a half cocked grin spreads across his face.
LA Johnny Stylez: “Is that all? Yeah...I kinda already figured something like that was going on. I trust you had your reasons..i’m not thrilled about you lying to me...but I get it.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “That’s just it...I don’t want to lie to you anymore...I hate it. It makes me feel disgusted...and the other night when you proposed again...and started talking about moving forward...I just couldn't shake this horrible feeling because….well...you’re gonna want to sit down for this.”
Blair Buchannan-Stylez: “Yes...that’s everything he told me. Are you pissed off at me?”
Sure, it was the right thing to do...but was this the right moment? She grappled with the fact that she could have told him sooner, but she selfishly needed for things to run smoothly specifically while OPW transitioned onto HBO and especially while Roger Wright was in power. Now that Johnny was getting his power back, though...Blair wondered if her actions would set into place an even more disturbing chain of events. The Pay Per View theme couldn’t have been more perfect because at that moment, Blair really did feel as if she were on the Highway to Hell.
XOXO