Retribution 2022 #1
Tommy and I spent the week after London in New York, getting Micah Hart set up and trained at Ante Up NYC. The first day we were both certain I'd made the right choice, he really knew his shit. All he really had to learn was our systems on the computer, and remembering people's names. Staying in NYC for the week was also good for me in that it kept me away from Coral for a while. I was still getting used to the idea of her being at the gym, and debating with myself if I believed she was really apologetic and trying to be better. Tommy had said the only way to really know for sure is to give her a chance and see what happened. I had also spoken to Tish, since allowing Coral to stay to train had been her idea... she thought I was more mad at her than I was. I assumed Coral had just tricked her, too. But we cleared things up and Tish promised to keep an eye on Coral, make sure she didn't try to start any shit. One thing I got done at the NYC gym that I was really happy about, was I got rid of the giant “ICON” on the back wall. It had been pained in large black block letters, in what looked like Impact font. I tried to paint over it at first but ended up having to strip the paint off the wall and then paint over it again. It's now a blank canvas, ready for me to work my magic. I planned to go back after Retribution when I would have more time, and paint something better suited to Ante Up in that space. My time before Retribution would be busy, I had to make sure I kept up my training, now that I had been placed into the Double Jeopardy match for the World Championship.
Yeah, I said World Championship.
It's about fucking time I got recognition for how dominant I can be, and you can best believe I will take every advantage I can to get that gold.
February 24
Boston
After Breakdown
-----------------------
I slammed the hotel room door as I walked into it after Tommy. He was carrying our take out dinner, I had our bags. It might sound backwards, some of you misogynistic fucks might think he should have had the heavier load, but in the state I was in, it was much safer that he had the food, trust me. Tommy set the bag of two orders of pork lo mein on the table, while I chucked both bags in the general direction of the dresser. Tommy's skidded across the floor, while mine hit the wall with a thud. I then got some beers out of the fridge while Tommy unpacked our dinner. Along with the lo mein we had spring rolls. I set the beer down and sat, and Tommy slid my containers to me. I opened the beer and stared at the food in front of me as he sat.
“Fuck... I might be too pissed to eat.”
“Well, eat anyway, you'll regret it in the morning.”
“Dammit.”
“What?”
“I hate it when you're right.” I picked up a spring roll and stuffed it into my mouth.
“I know this wasn't the best night for either of us, but in the long run, it's not gonna matter.”
“How can you say that? Holly Adams is never going to let this go, and Cid-”
Tommy stabbed the air with chopsticks as he cut me off. “All Cid did, was exactly what I knew he was gonna do when he asked for the added stip. He took the first chance he could to be a coward and escape instead of fighting me like a man, or a champion should. He might have the W on record but I still exposed him.”
I sucked down some beer as I considered that. “Okay. That's a fair point, but he also made you hurt yourself-” Tommy had hit the ropes instead of Cid's head with a Knee Deep, and limped away from the ring.
“It's already fine, he didn't do shit.”
“Oh. Okay, good. But-”
“Look, I would have loved to keep kicking his ass and pin him, but the way he ended that? He pinned his own reputation. He ran.” Tommy shrugged as if that was that.
“I'm glad you're not super pissed, I really am. But me? I'm livid. My match was bullshit from the start, Cruze is just trying to stir drama and-”
“You know damn well if you had won, you'd be holding it over their heads.”
“Who's side are you on?” I glared over a bite of noodles.
“Yours. Always. But I'm not gonna let you be a hypocrite. As annoying as it's gonna be to hear incessantly, Holly has every right to brag.”
“She shouldn't even be involved in this in the first place! Selena already beat her twice, why is her bitching being given any credence at all?”
“That... I agree with. But I think you need to look at all of this differently.”
“Is there another way? One of the people going into this clusterfuck title match with me just caught me and now she's gonna make a case that I don't belong-”
“And everyone listening is gonna blow her off. Holly is the one that doesn't belong, and everyone knows it, including Holly. You've proven yourself to come up big when it counts. Owen Cruze came back here trying to use us to catapult himself back to the top and you stopped him in his tracks. Glory Braddock has been begging for a World Title shot since she held it in name only for five minutes in February, and you exposed her so hard that she actually let emotion show for once in her life.”
“Glory still got the fucking match.”
“And she lost. Which means that more than likely, she isn't going to be in your Retribution clusterfuck.”
“I don't know, Holly keeps getting chance. And she just-”
“She got lucky tonight, that's what happened. And no matter what she's gonna say, it doesn't mean you don't belong in your spot, or that she should be champion. I know you hate getting pinned, but in the long run? Tonight doesn't matter. It was a lucky win in a meaningless triple threat that means jack shit. Holly can't win when it counts, she cracks under pressure. You? You thrive on it. You can.” I didn't reply, I just raised an eyebrow as I took another bite. “I'm serious babe. Study the match back and learn from it. Find whatever weakness she exploited, work on fixing that. Then once Selena decides who starts with her... you find their weakness, and do what you do best. Pick everyone apart until you're the one left standing.”
I washed my noodles down with the last of my beer. “You really think I can do it? No blowing smoke up my ass, either. Don't talk to your girlfriend. Talk to me like someone you're training. Can I really do this?”
Tommy sat back, had some beer, and looked at me seriously. “Alright. Can you? Yes. Will it be easy? No. Everyone has weaknesses, including you. The trick is to compensate for yours as best you can, while finding a way to use theirs against them. But I shouldn't have to tell you that, its the same concept in any combat sport, and you teach this weekly in your classes.”
“Yeah, I understand the concept. I'm asking you if you think that I can do that and come out as the champion. What do you think is my biggest weakness? Be honest.”
“In the ring, that's easy. Grappling, but you already knew that. You make up for it with your power and speed striking. But in complete honesty? Your biggest weakness is your own head. You've made the world think you have confidence to the point of arrogance and that you believe you can do anything and beat anyone. But I know you, and you don't really believe that. The fact you're asking me this proves that, and that's the biggest thing you have to overcome. You can't just think you belong and that you have a chance. You have to walk in there and know you can walk out with that belt. Me? I know you can. But what I think doesn't matter. It has to be in your head.”
I sat back, spring rolls gone and just a little left over of my lo mein. I ate more than I thought I would but I was full. “I don't know how to do that.”
“Unfortunately that's the one thing I can't teach. Everyone has to figure that part out for themselves, find their trigger or motivation, fire, whatever you want to call it.” I nodded, he had a point. Again. I've always gone back and forth in my head from 'I'm a worthless human, I was always treated like trash' to 'fuck everyone, Ima do the thing just to piss you off cause you think I can't.'
“I just don't want you to let tonight bring you down, babe. It's one match, and it's not the one that counts.”
“Yeah. I'll try to keep that in mind.”
I got up, leaving my dinner remnants on the table, and stripped, to get ready for bed. No, I don't always sleep nude, and that night I put on a tank top and booty shorts. It was my wordless statement that all I wanted to do in bed tonight was sleep.
February 28
Los Angeles
SRS Studios
-----------------
SRS Studios, the studio that held the movie prop contest I won, with my handcuffs piece, had invited me to the set during filming this week. They were shooting a few scenes where my piece was heavily featured, and offered me the opportunity to watch. Tommy and I arrived mid-morning and were met by the director, Keith Werner. He shook our hands and led us to an indoor set, labeled Studio 4. The door had a sign with the movie name on it, “Art Wreck.”
“Alright guys, here we are. Not all the magic happens here, but a lot of it will. We have a few on location scenes to do, but we're doing all the set scenes first.”
I looked around at the set. There were partitions and each one was a different setting. An office building, a home living room, a bedroom, and an art gallery. I couldn't see the others from where we stood. “This looks really good. Who did your set work?”
Keith gave me a somewhat sideways look. “You're familiar with that side of the business?”
“My dad and brother both do set construction and props. My dad retired but has been consulting for SRS for the last year or so. It's how I knew about the contest.”
“Oh oh, right. I remember now, Ray Williamson, right?” I nodded. “Great guy, I've met him a few times. His company didn't do the work though, we went with a newer one, trying to get them some exposure, you know?”
“Kinda like your prop contest was for artist exposure. Great idea.”
“Exactly.” Keith smiled. “Now, let me take you to the gallery set, where your piece is located for the moment. We're doing those scenes first. You can meet the lead.”
We followed Keith down the aisle between the different sets and past the living room and bedroom ones, to the gallery one. It had three walls, all with paintings hung up. There were display pedestals spaced around the floor, with different statues and sculptures set under glass. In the middle, on the tallest pedestal, was my handcuff sculpture. Keith led us to it.
“This looks amazing.”
“Thanks. We had a consult from an art director in LA, and some of these pieces are on loan from his gallery. Some were made by our prop people. And, well... here you are.” He gestured to my piece. The glass case was lit up, like it was some priceless piece in the Louvre or something. There was a placard on the pedestal. I read it:
“Unlocked – sculpture by Jesse Browne”
Keith saw me reading. “That's our main character's name. You'll be listed in the credits.”
“I was just thinking about how I never named it, I like what you called it.”
“Oh good, I was wondering about that. We could have changed it if you like, those placards are cheap as dirt to print.”
“No, it's great, keep it.”
Keith smiled. Two men then approached, one in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, obviously a crew member. The other, dressed in black slacks and a marroon and gray striped button up shirt, the top two buttons undone. He had long way black hair that was loose, just barely touching his shoulders. Keith waved them over.
“Come here, come here. Kandis, Tommy... let me introduce you to my art director, Mitch Keller, and our lead actor, Elias Brewer.”
The two men put their hands out. We traded shakes.
“Nice to meet you, it's good to see the face and hands that made the piece I get to pretend to have made.”
Elias had a very smooth voice, made for phone sex. I gave him my best smile. “Thank you. It looks to be in good hands.”
“I'll try not to drop it on the occasions I have to move it in the film.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Er, don't worry too much, we made some copies for those shots. The real one is being moved by a team.” Mitch chimed in. Elias faked a frown.
“You're killing my vibe here, Mitch.”
“Just reassuring the lady her work is safe.”
After some more small talk, Keith cleared the set as they were going to shoot a scene in the gallery. Extras appeared out of nowhere, and Elias and an older lady in a tight red dress stood near my piece. Keith spoke to them, and then to the extras. Me and Tommy were watching from behind a line, behind the two cameras. I always thought movied were filmed with more than two cameras, for different angles, but then I remembered this was independent, not a major studio. Keith then came back to me.
“If you'd like to be in the scene as an extra, we can do that.”
I looked down at myself, I was in black leggings and a purple halter top. “I don't think my outfit matches your scene.”
“Oh, we have wardrobe. Or, we can put you in a different scene, not the gallery. Up to you.”
I looked at Tommy. “You should do it.”
I grinned, and turned back to Keith. “Alright. Just not this one. The stuff they're wearing? That's not me.”
“As I said, we have wardrobe. You could choose something to your liking. I think it would be fitting to have you in a scene where your piece is. But if you insist....”
“Well... let me at least see what you have.”
Fifteen minutes later, I had changed into a short blue dress, with silver glittery strands woven in. It was fancy enough for the scene but short enough for my style. Keith had me placed in a corner, near one of the other statues on display, close to the edge of the set, where the proverbial fourth wall would be. I then heard a crew member speaking.
“Alright, before we get started, edit the credits for this scene, we're gonna list the artist as a special appearance, Kandis Park.”
I saw Tommy flinch. I left my spot and walked up to the woman.
“Hi, excuse me. I'm Kandis... and-”
“Oh, nice to meet you. What can I-”
“You can remove my last name from that list of yours. I don't use it professionally.”
“Oh, yes ma'am. We're aware. This isn't the credit list that goes into the film. It's for legal purposes, stating who was on the set for these takes, just in case anything happens.”
“Legal purposes?”
“Yes ma'am. Like... a freak accident and someone gets hurt. Red tape, basically, just BS they make us do and file to cover our asses.”
“And you're sure this isn't being released anywhere? I keep my full name well protected.”
“Absolutely. Many actors use stage or film names instead of their legal ones in credits. It's not an unusual request. Don't worry about it.”
Keith saw me speaking to the woman and walked over. “Is everything alright here?”
“She's just making sure her name is protected. She heard me mention the set credit.”
“Oh... yes, that's an internal thing. You'll be credited as you requested, I give you my word on that. Furthermore, its in the contract you signed after winning the contest.”
I felt myself relax. “Okay. I was just making sure. I can't... I mean, it's just part of my TV persona to only be Kandis.”
“Like Madonna?” The woman smiled, like she made a clever remark. I smiled back as if I hadn't heard it six dozen times in my life.
“Exactly.”
I glanced over at Tommy after the exchange, and he had that strange look on his face again that I couldn't place. I think he just knows the reason I don't want to use my name – because I fucking hate it – and it upsets him when I'm upset.
The scenes filmed with no issues. Elias is actually a really good actor and I hoped doing this small movie would lead to something bigger for him. My part as an extra was easy. Elias walked through the gallery greeting people, and I was one of the people he shook hands with. The whole thing only took about an hour. I changed back into my own clothes, and Keith asked an assistant to show us the rest of the set, while he continued working on scenes. It was a great experience and I'm glad we went.
After leaving SRS Studios, Tommy and me stopped to get sushi for lunch, then headed home. Tommy went straight outside, out back near the pool. I saw him on the phone and he looked a little agitated. I thought nothing of it though, assuming it was some business thing. I sat on the couch and put the TV on, looking at the DVR to rewatch Breakdown. Might as well start researching for Retribution. When Tommy came back in, I had just got to the start of my triple threat. He sat down next to me and grabbed the remote from my hand, turning the TV off.
“Hey! I was-”
“I know what you were doing. But that can wait... I want to talk to you.”
He looked serious, or even nervous. “Okay... should I be worried?”
“Uh, I hope not.” That wasn't very reassuring. “At the studio, when the woman called out your name.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yeah. I saw you get riled up immediately. It's the second time in a few weeks someone called you it and you got upset to the point of calling them out.”
“They should be called out, the movie people knew I didn't want it used, and the backstage girl at SCW really should know better. I still need to find out why it's on the call sheet at all.”
“They should know better, and most of them do. The SCW girl likely just wasn't told, it's not her fault. But my point isn't the fact that people keep using it, its that I know that you hate it, and you always have. I was thinking, that the most logical solution is for you to change it.”
“Tommy, we already talked about this. I told you why I never did, my family couldn't afford to adopt me, and I can't change it now. There's like a dozen forms to fill out, you need to list a good reason for the court to approve the petition, and I'm not sure “I hate it” is a valid reason.”
“Most of those forms are formalities, you know. They just-”
“Besides, the whole process takes weeks. And! Did you know that I have to publish in the newspaper, for four weeks in a row, my intention to change my name, including my current one and the one I want to change it to? That defeats the entire purpose of keeping it out of the public all this time! You know everyone in SCW would eat me alive, cause they know I hate it, thanks to what I said to Owen.”
Tommy looked at me in shock. “The newspaper?” I nodded. I had looked into it a long time ago. “That's ridiculous.”
“See? It wouldn't make any sense for me to do it.”
“Well, there is an easier way. You could use mine....”
Tommy seemed hesitant of his suggestion, and in a second or two it clicked why. “Um.. wouldn't I have to marry you for that to be easy?”
“Yeah... that's the idea.” He grabbed my hand. “Marry me.”
My eyes went wide. “Are you serious?” He should know better than that. Right?
“Yes, I'm serious. I wouldn't say that flippantly.”
I pulled my hand out of his. “You want to lock the handcuffs....”
“No, I-”
“And you're using my name as an excuse...”
“That's not what-”
“Do you know how fucked up that sounds?”
He grabbed my hand again, I let him. “Just listen. No, I'm not trying to lock anything, least of all you. Nothing about the way we are has to change. I'm not asking you to do that. All I want, is for you to be comfortable with who you are, and for you and the world to understand that regardless what else we do, at the end of the day nothing and no one comes between us.” I couldn't say a word, I was in shock that he was actually serious about this. It sounded so thought out, too. How long had this been on his mind? “I know that we put a stop to that woman putting out bullshit articles, but the fact of the matter is, she did put it out there. The idea that we're not really serious because we happen to play around, or the concept that we actually split up but stay together on TV for professional reasons. It's-”
“Do you really care what other people think? Isn't it enough that you and I and our friends know better?”
“Yes, I do care. Because I love you, and I don't want anyone, not one person, to think that I don't. I'll confess, I almost asked you this at the height of those articles. I thought it would put a stop to the bullshit once we made it public. But I held off, I didn't want you think it was just a publicity stunt. It's not that at all, I'm just tired of hearing the same shit about us not being serious when that's not true at all. Everything about this is the real deal.”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I couldn't help but be reminded of Jackson telling me I belonged to him and no one else, and even the few weeks when me and Tommy had that weird dynamic, because my head had relapsed into the mode I was in when I was with Jackson. I looked down and realized Tommy was still holding my hand. I didn't pull it back this time, though.
“Okay... then why did you bring this up as a way to “fix” my name?”
“Part of my job is making anything that bothers you go away, or at least make it better. I know that your name is the one thing that bothers you more than anything else in the world, and giving you mine is the only way I know how to fix that.”
Maybe if I was a normal person, I would have said yes right there on the spot, because that was probably the most loving thing anyone had ever said to me. But.. I'm not normal. I'm me.
“But... this is everything I've always been against...” It was a lock, whether he meant it that way or not.
“I know... the fact I'm asking you anyway should show you what it means to me. I have zero idea what you're gonna say and that's terrifying, but... I'm still asking.” He squeezed my hand.
“Tommy.... I... I don't know...” I didn't want to say no, I didn't want to hurt him... but all I heard in my head was the sound of a jail door clanging shut. Tommy admitted he knew it was a big ask, the biggest, but I don't think he really understood. I couldn't say anything else.
“Listen, you don't have to answer me right now. Take all the time you need. I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore, I had to put it out there.”
“Okay. I'll think about it.” Tommy smiled, he looked relieved, probably because I didn't say no right away. I finally pulled my hand away from his. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I need to go out for a while. Alone.”
“Of course... um, you are coming back tonight, though?”
“I'm not gonna go on a bender and end up on Ashley's couch, if that's what you mean.” I smirked, and he laughed a little. “I just need to be by myself to process. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“Thanks. I will come home tonight. I promise.” I leaned over and kissed him, then got up. I could feel him watching me as I grabbed my keys and wallet and walked out.
What the actual fuck?
I drove almost mindlessly, with no real destination in mind, a thousand thoughts running through my head. Next thing I knew, I was parked in West Hollywood at Plummer Park. My park. Because of course I did. When I was a kid and teenager, any time something had me fucked up, I came here. So why wouldn't I have instinctively driven here when Tommy just turned my insides upside down and shook me, letting all my insecurities and fears fall out, visible on his living room floor? He knew it too, he admitted he terrified himself, cause he didn't know what I would say. Thing was... I had no idea what to say, either.
I got out of the car and walked over to the bench that faced my tree. The one I was found under. Part of me wanted to go sit against it, but there were too many people there and I didn't want attention. I wanted to blend in with the scenery while I contemplated what Tommy asked me would really mean. He wanted to marry me. He wanted a legal status. He wanted to give me his name because he knows I hate my own. He said nothing about our relationship would have to change, the way we agreed that hooking up with other people was okay. That was crucial to me, Tommy had brought it up months ago just as I was about to ask for it myself. But the two ideas didn't mesh in my head.... be a wife, but not be locked down? It just didn't compute. Marriage wasn't freedom to me, and I needed my freedom more than anything else.
My thoughts drifted to the week we were in New York, getting Micah trained at Ante Up NYC...
* * * * * = February 9 – Ante Up NYC = * * * * *
I had tried to just paint over the “ICON” wall, but nothing was covering the black letters. I knew a different tactic was needed, that involved paint thinner and a scraper. I spoke to Micah about it, he was the General Manager now, and we agreed to shut the gym down for a few hours one evening to strip the paint from the wall. Paint thinner gives off wicked fumes and it's not really anything you want to be breathing in while working out. So, we made an announcement, asked everyone to finish up by six PM, then locked the doors. Halfway through, he had his shirt off, just in his track pants he worked in. I'd taken my shirt off too, I was in gray leggings and a pink sports bra. We'd make small talk while we worked, and took a break around 8, to order dinner delivered. He chose pizza, and I didn't object. We sat in the managers office to eat.
“You know, I kinda expected Tommy to come by and help out.”
“Oh, he wanted to, but he had to go back to LA for a day or two. Some business came up. Besides, he isn't really the paint type, that's my domain.”
“Fair enough. He clearly trusts you with the décor.”
“You should see the wall I painted at home in my studio.”
“You have a studio?”
“Well, it's one of the spare bedrooms, but he gave it to me to use as a studio when I moved in. I painted a mural on the biggest wall, it's a sort of abstract of us in our wrestling gear. Here, I have a picture.”
I pulled out my phone and showed him. “That's fucking amazing. Do you have plans for what you'll put up in here?”
“A few ides. I made some sketches but I haven't settled on one solid idea yet. Maybe a stylized logo, that looks like street graffiti. Or silhouettes of wrestlers in a ring. Or the NYC skyline, but that might be cliché.”
“The graffiti idea sounds fun.”
I grinned. “Maybe I'll go with that, then. We could add the staff names to the design.”
“Now you're speaking my language. Make sure you add yourself and Tommy, too.”
“Obviously.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Rumor around the wrestling business is that you and Tommy... you sort of play loose with your relationship. But when I spoke with Tommy, I referred to you as his wife, and he didn't correct me.”
I smirked. “That's not a question.”
“I guess I'm asking what your actual relationship is.”
“We're not married, I guess he just didn't want to get into all the details at the time. But don't believe the internet bullshit, either. We are together.”
“So, the reports of you playing around are wrong, too?”
“No, they got that right. They just took it too far. We just don't believe that being committed means limiting ourselves. It doesn't mean we're not a real couple.”
“I didn't mean it that way... I was just trying to subtly find out if I had a chance.” He smirked. He had confidence, in most other situations a comment like that would get a man fired on the spot. But he'd clearly done his research.
“Let me tell you something about me that you should keep in mind. I don't do subtle. If you want to know something, just ask me.”
“Alright. What are my chances?”
I gave him one of my best sultry smiles. “Fairly good.”
“Is that why you hired me?”
“Not completely. But I admit it helped.” I was a little surprised this conversation was happening in the first week, I thought it would take me longer to figure out if he was interested. I was as soon as he walked in for his interview. The fact he turned out to be the perfect man for the job was a plus. It meat I had a chance. And he was calling his shot first. “Am I why you applied when you saw the ad?” I wasn't listed but anyone who knew Ante Up, knew that I was involved. Micah smirked.
“Not completely. But it helped.” He smirked.
I laughed. “Touche. You know... Tommy isn't town, the doors are locked. No one else is gonna be here all night.”
“Yeah, that's true.”
“You've been helping me strip the paint off the wall, and doing a great job. Maybe we can see how well you can strip me, next?”
The answer to that was... very well. In fact, that was determined before we got back to the wall. I definitely made the right choice in hiring him.
* * * * * = Plummer Park = * * * * *
Grinning to myself at the memory of fucking Micah in the Ante Up NYC managers office, on the desk no less, I looked up at my tree. I had told Tommy about it the next day, he was amused that it didn't take long for that to happen. I couldn't imagine not having the freedom to do that, or with anyone I wanted. I couldn't go back to that, I tried it and it fucked with my head. I know Tommy said it wouldn't change, and I believed he meant it now, but what if he changed his mind after the papers were signed, and I was stuck?
Deciding I needed outside, more sane advice than the thoughts in my head, I called Nate. He was home, no work today, and yes I could go over. I told him I wanted to run something by him, but I didn't say what. He was used to me using him as a sounding board, but I had a feeling this was something he'd never expect.
Turned out, I was wrong.